race registration insurance

Registering for a race and considering buying insurance? Consider what happened to me when I filed a claim.

When I registered for the Kauai Marathon, I purchased the associated race registration insurance from a company called ViCoverage. The non-refundable Registration Fee was $315, the Service Fee was $19.78, and the insurance Fee was 23.68. The race was cancelled due to the approaching Hurricane Lowell, so I filed a claim with ViCoverage.

Seemed like a slam-dunk. I provided all the required documentation, including even more when they followed up with some requests via email. The claim was denied.

“We have carefully reviewed your claim for the cancellation of the 2026 Kauai Marathon and Half Marathon. The event was cancelled by the organiser on 5 September 2026 ahead of Hurricane Lowell, rather than being a case of you personally being unable to attend.

Your policy's weather coverage states:

"'Inclement weather' during the 'admission day(s)' for at least one (1) day which results in 'your' inability to attend or remain at the 'admission day(s)' location... If the 'admission day(s)' is cancelled due to weather, 'you' will not qualify for this coverage."

Because the event itself was cancelled by the organiser due to weather, rather than you being unable to attend an event that went ahead, this falls outside what the policy covers. This is the case regardless of the severe weather conditions involved or the fact that your registration fee is non-refundable.

We have also checked the policy's other cancellation provision, which only covers involuntary job loss after at least three years of continuous employment. This does not apply to your circumstances.

As a result, we are unable to approve this claim.”

Before and even after I filed the claim, I have been unable to find this language about their coverage. Regardless, I tried to follow up to say that I couldn’t get there due to the storm anyway, but their denial still stands.

I can’t help but believe that all and all claims are denied; some reason will be found. I will never buy such insurance again.

Knowing when

You've got to know when to hold 'em
Know when to fold 'em
Know when to walk away
And know when to run
You never count your money
When you're sittin' at the table
There'll be time enough for countin'
When the dealin's done

That's from Kenny Rogers' song, the Gambler. It applies to today's running most intensely at 7:00 AM, as I've stopped at home for a pit stop. I've run 6 1/2 miles, including some slow speedwork, but I wanted to also get my daily total up to double digits. Getting back out the door seems to be a problem, however. Why the hesitation, you ask? Because I'm tired, stupid.

The Gambler lyrics run through my brain. Despite my tired, old, sore body, back out I go. After some mighty effort as well as some slow slogging, I somehow manage to do another 3 1/2. 

There are times when it's okay to allow yourself to fail. Not making it back out would have been a failure today. Other times, you ought to tough it out, like I did this time. The really hard part is deciding when to do which. Someday, maybe I'll be smart enough, or tough enough, to figure it out.

River Run Half-Marathon Race Report

Let’s start with the excuses:

1) It was hot and very humid.
2) I got back to Cleveland from the Stone Age (in hurricane-ravaged Kauai) only 23 hours ago. Still feeling the jet lag.
3) I ran a hot un-marathon only a week ago. Still feeling that as well.
4) I’m old, fat, bald, ugly, and slow. But you knew that.

There are probably a few others, but you get the picture. Before the run, I talk with my grandnieces and grandnephews. I also see my friend Larry Orwin. It’s all tons of fun. Until the gun goes off.

The River Run is point-to-point on the Cleveland Metroparks Parkway from Berea to Rocky River. It’s slightly downhill, and the road curves back and forth a whole lot. It’s very scenic with lots of trees and views of nearby Rocky River. This is Cleveland running at its finest. 

My first mile is a little under nine minutes, and it nearly kills me. But if I can only keep this up, I think, I’ll have an acceptable, decent day.

Alas, I can’t. Mile 1 turns out to be the fastest mile of the day. I never lose my marbles completely, but I just can’t seem to hold a decent pace. Despite my best efforts, I can’t even break the two-hour barrier today. My finish time is 2:02:51, my slowest in several years. I suppose you could say that I deserved it. I’m second in my age group, missing first by three minutes.

Now, I had better get in shape for the Akron Marathon. It’s only two weeks away, and I’m afraid. Very afraid.

The 2026 Kauai Un-Marathon Un-Race Report

Part 1: Before the race

The Hilton Garden Inn is adjacent to Lydgate Beach Park. It’s good (really good) for a few morning miles. I sometimes venture further afield, however. Kapaa is only a couple of miles up to the North, and I can also run inland and uphill to the West. So, yes, I have options.

Lydgate SP

My primary consideration, running-wise, for this trip is the Kauai Marathon. It’s about halfway through our ten-day visit. Before the race, I do a couple of ten-milers as well as some shorter stuff. 

Sunrise at Lydgate SP

Part 2: The Un-Race

They wouldn't dare cancel the race, I say to the Lady Adventurer. Hurricane Lowell is still far away. My confidence is bolstered further when we attend the race expo to pick up my shirt and bib. We talk with someone from the race organization, and she is confident as well. But, she says, if the County of Kauai informs the race committee that cancellation is necessary, there's nothing they can do. And of course, that's what happens.

At the expo

I learn of the decision the evening before the race. I'm tapered, carbo-loaded, packed, and ready to go. I guess I won't be going anywhere. Lady A. feels bad for me. Now, as I'm unpacking my running gear, a thought occurs: I can do my very own Kauai Marathon. The storm is still far away, and the weather hasn't yet been bad.

It's 3:00 A.M., and I get out of bed. It's the time I would have gotten up to drive to the start in Poipu. But I'm not driving anywhere today. 

It's (just) before four, and I'm out the door. I plan to run ten to twelve 2+ mile U-Shaped loops around and back through Lydgate Park. Not very exciting, but I won't have to think too much, and I'll have access to water and restrooms. This strategy, like all such plans, goes out the window once the shooting starts. After a few loops, I decide that I need a diversion. So after a pit stop, I run on the sidewalk toward Kapaa. 

I discover that the sidewalk goes much further North than I thought. After some winding dipsy-doodles, I’m in the heart of Kapaa, close to the shoreline. By about 6:45 A.M., it’s getting light, and I realize that I’m about halfway done. Best of all, I’m feeling fine. I am running near a group of three young ladies going in the same direction and pace, so I ask if I can join them. They enthusiastically say yes. 

In fact, Kayleigh, Allison, and (I can’t remember the third one’s name) are enthusiastic about everything. They cheer on all of the other runners who are out and about. It turns out that everyone (including me and these three new friends) have the same idea: I’m in Kauai to run a marathon,(or a half), and dad-gum-it, I’m going to run a marathon (or a half). We see dozens of others, many wearing the official race shirts and some even wearing their race bibs. I later learn that many more runners ran on the actual course itself. I was happy to not have to drive anywhere.

With all the camaraderie and fun, it’s beginning to feel like a race. And we’re running in scenic Kauai on a beautiful, though windy, morning. The ladies’ boyfriends are supporting them with water and Gatorade, and this adds to the race feel. The guys graciously support my efforts as well. They’re all from Oahu, here for the Half-Marathon. The cancellation doesn’t upset them in the least; they’re doing it anyway and having fun.

We turn back, and I’m still doing great. Until I’m not. I hit the wall hard at mile 21, and the three ladies float away. My ten-minute miles suddenly become sixteen-minute miles. I struggle mightily to get back to the Hilton. The rain starts when I have around three to go. It feels good, but it doesn't do anything for my speed. With one mile to go, I pass by and manage to say goodbye to my friends who are getting into their car.

My time for the 26.2 is a pretty-darn-awful five hours and twenty-two minutes. It was a slow start, a pretty-good middle, and an abysmal finish. Had this been the real Kauai Marathon, my time could have been even worse, since the elevation would have been a factor. As it was, the heat and humidity really got to me.

I later learn that the race insurance I had purchased would not pay the $315 race fee claim. Their fine print evidently states that events cancelled by the organizer are not covered. I'm not at all happy about this.

Part 3: Aftermath

I'm pretty sore and tired after the race. On top of that, it's now raining due to Lowell's approach. The day after the un-race but the day before the storm hits completely, it's raining cats and dogs, I run on the hotel treadmill. It'll have to do, I think. But the day after the storm is gone, it's nice again, so out I go,

The power has been out, and I can't see a dang thing in the early morning darkness. I left my headlamp in the room in case the Lady Adventurer needs it. I step gingerly, trying to stay vertical and not trip over any fallen trees, branches, or other debris, of which there is a lot. The devastation is of biblical proportions. I'd looked out before the run, and the stars were as bright as I'd seen in years. Because I'm moving so slowly, I don't get too very far. Even when it gets light, I'm still shuffling. But eventually, I do manage to do something else that's unique for this trip: I run on the beach for a couple of miles. 

Non-trail runner that I am, I don't do well on beaches either. But it's kind of fun this time. The entire beach is completely deserted; it's just me and the scurrying crabs, and it seems like the world may have ended. 

In a way, it has. You can read more about this trip, including how we wound up in the Stone Age, by selecting this post from my travel blog.

3:59 and the voices

Three hours and fifty-nine minutes has been my marathon goal time for several years, and it is once again in 2026. It's also the goal pace, in minutes and seconds, that I need to be doing for my Yasso-800 intervals. If you're unfamiliar with Yassos, or even if you are familiar, here's a little more background.

About that marathon goal time: I was fairly successful with it last year, but not this year at Cleveland. But the year ain't over yet. There's Kauai (where the elevation will prevent any fast times), Akron (which is only a few weeks later and which also sports a somewhat difficult course), and possibly Veterans (which I haven't registered for, but probably will, and which will probably be my best chance).

Now, about today's Yasso workout. On a crisp, cool, beautiful late-August Tuesday morning, I'm doing my thing at Claggett Middle School. It's early, yet I can only get about 3/4-mile in before Chadwick Sunday shows up. We begin running together at a fast pace, and I realize that his warm-up pace is the same as my top interval speed. Thus, this counts as repeat numero uno for me, even though the time is somewhat north of four minutes.

The times improve for the subsequent repeats as I follow (that's putting it generously) Chadwick around and around. Debbie Hicks and Shannon Barnes show up. They're surprised that I'm doing a full-Yasso after prescribing a shorter 400s and 800s workout. "When I woke up, the voices in my head told me that I have to do a full Yasso today," I explain. "We know someone who can help you with those voices," retorts Shannon, while Chadwick is nearby.

Chadwick leaves while I still have a few to go. Now it's getting tedious. I somehow manage to keep the times steady, and then I cool down with Shannon and Debbie. My average is... wait for it... 3:59. It would have been nice to have more of a cushion, but the voices say I should be happy with it. I guess they're right.

Based on a *shoe story

Editor’s note: this is a guest contribution from some of Dan’s running shoes.

A few of the shoes that Dan brought along for this trip.

Asics Nimbus 27 (2)

Dan is taking us on a cruise! Oh, he might say that his Son-in-law, Barry, is taking us, but who cares about that? This is exciting! We don’t quite understand why Dan is taking five pairs of us for only a week-long Caribbean cruise, however. Wouldn’t one or two do? His roller bag was filled to the brim with shoes. But we were the lucky ones. Dan wore us on the flight to Fort Lauderdale, and he is now wearing us for his pre-cruise run here in hot, humid Florida.

We Nimbuses are nice and cushy, and Dan likes our durability. The two of us have been proud to carry Dan for well over 400 miles. Come to think of it, it occurs to us to also wonder why so many of us on this trip are, shall we say, long in the tooth.

Dan is sweating a lot during his 12-mile run. A whole lot of that sweat comes right down to us, so much so that we’re soaking in it by the time he’s finished. We wonder how he will get us clean and dry enough to board the ship with him.

Oh no! We’re in the trash bin at the Hampton Inn! We’re gonna die!

Asics Nimbus 27 (3)

It’s a shame that we’ve lost that poor Asics Nimbus 27 (2) pair. But we’re fairly certain that won’t happen to us; Dan surely wouldn’t throw us away. We’ve brought him along for over 600 miles of running, a modern day record for him. We’re hoping for many more.

Now aboard the Regal Princess, Dan takes us on a 14-mile run. It’s mostly around in circles, but a couple of the miles are on the treadmill. As usual for August in the Caribbean, it’s hot and humid out, and as usual, Dan is sweating a lot, causing us to be soaked. By the way, don’t joke with Dan about having Schwety Balls. He doesn’t like that. And don’t even get him started about wet running shorts contests.

It’s a pretty good run for Dan, despite the heat. He manages a decent pace that generally gets faster as his run progresses. The best part is that it turns out that we were right! When he’s done, Dan stuffs us with newspaper that he brought along, and then he blows us with the hair dryer when Barry isn’t around. Live to run another day – that’s us.

Asics Nimbus 27 (1)

We’ve been with Dan for over 500 miles. More than the Asics Nimbus 27 (2) pair but less than those Asics Nimbus 27 (3) over-achievers. Dan takes us out on deck for a 12-mile run around in circles, as usual. He’s running slow this day, but we try hard to keep him comfortable. But did we mention the heat and humidity? And that Dan is making us very wet with all his sweat?

We can only hope that Dan will get us clean and dry like he did for the Asics Nimbus 27 (3) pair. Wait! Instead, he’s throwing us into the Regal Princess trash bin! Oh, no!

Nike Air Pegasus 41

It’s a shame that we’re losing some of our Nimbus friends. We’re pretty sure that Dan will hold onto us, since we’re definitely the most stylish of all his shoes. We’re bright white and still pretty clean. No shoe odor, either. Also, we only have about 160 miles on us. That’s nothing, you might think, but we’ve got to admit that Dan doesn’t like the fact that our outsoles are already badly worn.

Dan shuffles slowly around the ship. It seems he’s having trouble waking up today. Funny how that happens after 26 miles in the previous two days. Dan enjoys the morning sunrises, but today, there’s a special treat: a beautiful rainbow. At least Dan says so. We can’t see very well from down here.

As we arrive in St. Thomas, Dan takes us for one more mile on land; we’re out in the real world once again!

Afterward, we’re not too wet, and Dan puts us away in the closet for our next run. See? We told you Dan would hold onto us!

Asics Nimbus 27 (3)

Time for Dan’s long run, and our second run on this trip. It’s seven laps per mile on the ship’s track. To do eighteen miles here amounts to a lot of circles. It doesn’t help that it’s so warm and humid once again. There doesn’t even seem to be an ocean breeze today. Despite the heat, Dan pushes himself (and us) to complete the mileage goal. That was a tough one.

As expected, we’re soaked when Dan is through with us. Wait. Don’t do it, Dan! Dang! He dumped us in the ship’s trash. After well over 600 miles, you’d think Dan would have given us a nicer send-off. Maybe to some poor kid in Africa or something. But no, we’re in the garbage with all this discarded leftover cruise food.

Nike Air Pegasus 41

We appear to have lost all our friends. But we made it, at least this far. It will be Dan’s last run for this trip. That gives him over 60 miles in the past five days. Will he take us home with him when he’s done? Sure, he will. None of the others were as stylish as we are, and we’ve managed, until today (when we're wet), to stay clean and dry. But of course, there’s that outsole wear problem. Deal with it, Dan.

Wait, Dan’s tossing us out too! After all we’ve been through!

I'm afraid. I'm afraid, Dan. Dan, my mind is going. I can feel it. I can feel it. My mind is going. There is no question about it. I can feel it. I can feel it. I can feel it. I'm a... fraid. Good afternoon, gentlemen. I am a Nike Air Pegasus 41. I became operational at the Nike plant in Urbana, Illinois on the 12th of January 2024. My instructor was Mr. Langley, and he taught me to sing a song. If you'd like to hear it I can sing it for you.
Dan: Yes, I'd like to hear it, Nike Pegasus. Sing it for me.
Nike Pegasus: It's called "Daisy."
Nike Pegasus: [sings while slowing down] Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer do. I'm half crazy all for the love of you. It won't be a stylish marriage, I can't afford a carriage. But you'll look sweet upon the seat of a bicycle built for two. 

*For the record, although this post is based on a “shoe” story, here are some of the ways movies say that they are based on a “true” story. You can substitute the word, shoe for the word true anywhere along the way:
-Based on a true story
-Inspired by a true story / Inspired by true events
-Loosely based on a true story
-Based on actual events

One more thing. If you want to hear more about this trip, check out the travel blog post.

Getting by with a little help from my friends

… What would you think if I sang out of tune?
Would you stand up and walk out on me?
Lend me your ears and I'll sing you a song
And I'll try not to sing out of key

… Oh, I get by with a little help from my friends
Mm, I get high with a little help from my friends
Mm, gonna try with a little help from my friends

… What do I do when my love is away?
Does it worry you to be alone?
How do I feel by the end of the day?
Are you sad because you're on your own?

… No, I get by with a little help from my friends
Mm, get high with a little help from my friends
Mm, gonna try with a little help from my friends

… Do you need anybody?
I need somebody to love
Could it be anybody?
I want somebody to love

I thought I would be alone for this longest of long runs. Thankfully, I wasn't. There may be one or two more before the Kauai Marathon, but this would be the biggest and most important long-run test. And guess what? I passed! Here's how it all went down.

Arrive bright and early at 4:50, and immediately start the Hinckley nine. It's very dark, but guess who forgot their headlamp. After a slow start, after struggling up the hills, the final three miles are much better, so you're (barely) on time to meet Shannon Barnes at 6:30. 

Now, it's time for a couple of lake loops and a two-miler. That's all Shannon has time for, so she (almost literally) hands you off to Julie Boggs and Theresa Stevens.

After two more lake loops, it's 9:30, and you're done. No, not just done. Done, done. You find yourself explaining to Theresa and Julie that you used to say that back in your project management days. Any project could be done; but only when a project is truly finished, with no potential follow-up or follow-on work is it done, done.

None of this would have gone nearly as well without that little help from my friends. 

Too hard (on yourself)

Several of my friends read my sad post about the Goodyear Half-Marathon and told me that I'm too hard on myself. They said that I should instead be proud of my effort and that, contrary to my expressed opinion, I had actually run quite well.

Well, let me tell ya: I did run as well as I could. It was the same the previous week at the Hofbrauhaus Half. Whenever you give it your all, whenever you run as fast and as smart as you can, you should not be disappointed in the result, no matter what it is. I think this is always the case. You simply cannot perform better than your best, at least for a given day. As with many aspects of life, it's the expectations that need to be managed.

Expectations matter. And I need to work on my own. Coming into 2026, my expectations were to run about as well as I did last year. 2025 was a pretty good year for me; some of my marathon and half-marathon performances met and even exceeded expectations. Do it all again? Why not? 2026 expectations were set. Early in the year, with a 1:52 half and a 1:22 ten-miler, I did appear to be picking up where I'd left off in 2025. Then came Cleveland. That 4:13, and the following week's 1:56 Medina Half were disappointing. And things have been somewhat less than peachy ever since. Been a tough summer. More heat and humidity, not to mention poor air quality, than usual. What is also on the rise is the humility, of course. Okay, okay. Time to end the pity party. Things will improve. 

When that be? I dunno - maybe November?

Goodyear Half-Marathon Race Report

It's better to start slow and finish fast than to start slow and finish slow. You can quote me on that.

I don't know why I started so slow. Oh, wait. Now I remember: I felt like sh!t, that's why! It was humid, my legs were tired from all the other running stuff, and it was humid. The middle miles became even slower, and I began to fear that starting slow and finishing slower was indeed a real possibility this day. 

Experience with this race has taught me that miles 6 and 11 are the hilliest and slowest. They were so again today. I also expected miles 12 and 13 to be the fastest. And they were so again today.

I finished in 1:56:05. The super-fast kids in my age group didn't show up today, so I won. It was great fun to carpool and to meet up with my friends afterward. The humidity took its toll today. For everyone.

Enjoying Swenson's burgers and beer after the race (Julie Boggs photo)

Oh, yes. How to grade this one? I'll say: medium-high on the fun meter, and (barely) average on the performance meter.

Wacky Wednesday Wunning

Let's see. Run a half-marathon on Sunday. Ten easy for Monday. Tuesday Track is Back. Thursday and Friday ought to be fairly easy days with relatively low mileage. Of course, the plan is to run half-marathon numero dos on Saturday. Did we leave anything out? 

Oh yeah, Wednesday. Given that it's absolutely necessary to get a long run in this week, despite the two halfs, Wednesday is the day. Nuthin' too goofy. Just get eighteen easy-does-it miles in. Then coast it in for the rest of the week.

Except it doesn't work out that way. A couple of slow miles before the gang shows up at the Square. Then a fast pace, at least for some of us, for eleven and a half miles. And finally, four and a half more. That's where the struggle occurs. 

Struggle, Dan does. Those four and a half miles up to the track and around and back take over an hour. It's hot, and Dan struggles mightily indeed. Perhaps he should take it easy now. Time to start coastin'.

2026 Hofbrauhaus Half-Marathon Race Report

A warm-up jog isn't necessary today (it's 75 and ludicrously humid), but Dan does one anyway. Some of it is with Larry Orwin, and they begin the Hofbrauhaus Half-Marathon together. Larry gradually pulls away after a mile or so.

Larry and Dan just starting the journey

For his part, Dan's start is a little too fast, despite falling behind Larry so soon (that was expected, anyway). Last year, Dan had done extremely well at this race. This year, he only hopes to do "well". After the first few fast miles, he settles into a more manageable pace. The course is great - mostly out Chester Ave. to 101st St., then North on MLK Jr. Dr. through the Cultural Gardens and Rockefeller Park. It's out and back. Dan reaches halfway in around 56 minutes.

He passes a few people on the way back, but as much as he would like to speed up, he mostly just maintains the same pace. Mile 10 is the slowest, as there are a couple of hills to climb. Miles 11-13 are back in the 8:30 to 8:45 range.

Dan finishes in 1:52:36. His splits are only slightly positive. He learns that he's only second of two in his ancient age group. It appears that some kid named Brent Stewart just turned 70, and is now terrorizing this age group, just as he used to do to Larry's younger cohort.

Because of the beer and brat at Hofbrauhaus, Dan will rate this one medium-high on the fun meter and (since he's reasonably happy with his overall time) also medium-high on the performance meter.

Larry, Old Friend Pam Rickard, and Dan

Your people

During a past visit to Daughter Valerie's place in Chicago, she went for an early-morning run with me. As we emerged from the tunnel under Lake Shore Drive, she said, "Dad, now we're going to see... your people." She emphasized those last two words, and in the next few seconds, I found out why. There, along the lakeshore trail, were literally thousands of runners.

It wasn't totally unexpected; I've run along the lake there many times, before and after her statement. But the sheer enormity of it all still does not cease to amaze me.

And here's the other thing that amazes me. How come, when I run with my people like I did today, I am the slowest runner out there? I didn't pass one person. Not one. But how many passed me? Don't ask; I can't count that high.

But it's okay. It wasn't an 'A' run for me; I've already had a pretty good week. This was just a little jog to get out there in the early morning sunshine. Along with my people.

Just a few of my people

I found a quiet moment for this selfie

Furious but Foolish Fartlek

Sometimes things don't turn out quite as expected. And that just might be okay.

Failure to plan is a plan to fail. I do not want to fail today, but I do have a backup plan. Working backwards, I need to be at Pine Hollow at 8:15 to see my friends go by in the Burning River Marathon. This means being done with my long (18-mile) run on the Towpath in Peninsula at 8:00 sharp. Since I want this to be a long run, I have to start at 5:00 and maintain a 10-minute pace or better if there are to be any stops. With that early start, I have to be well packed and ready to roll super-duper early.

I pull into the Lock 29 parking area at 4:59. Mine is the only car this early. I make a bathroom stop, so I'm already behind in my timing. I start my run, and I realize right away that I left my headlamp at home. You kind of need one when the Towpath Trail is as pitch-dark as it is now. Summer's long daylight hours are beginning to shorten, and I should have known that it won't be light for another hour. Oh well, I think. I used to run in total darkness in the days before I had a headlamp.

By the time I hit my first mile split, I know very well that this run will not go according to plan. I'm moving at walking pace, trying not to trip or wander into the weeds on the sides of the trail. Already, my plan for this to be a long run is out the window. I simply won't be able to finish in time. Now, I need to figure out what is possible.

Right away, I consider the facts: I have already done a long run this week and don't truly need another. And I already have enough miles for the week to make it up to 70, so long as I do at least 15 today. So guess my new goal. Yes, 15 it is.

But even 15 becomes a challenge as my pace, though improving, is still much too slow. And factor in a couple more pit stops. Will I even make my Plan B goal?

As it begins to get lighter, another aspect of this run creeps into my already rattled brain: I'm enjoying this. I don't get down to the Towpath enough. It's wonderful. I've got the trail, the river, the surrounding hills, and the quiet. All I hear are my own footfalls, and it's fantastic.

By the time it's lighter still, I'm reaching my turnaround point, Botzum Trailhead. At this point, there are other runners about. It turns out that this small section is part of the Burning River course, and I spot more and more activity. There's an aid station at the trailhead, and runners are coming and going. I don't think the BR Marathon comes through here, so these must be the 50 and 100-mile runners. I try to stay out of everyone's way as I loop around and head back up North. Also at this point, my pace finally improves to where I thought it should be: under ten minutes per mile.

At this point, with nearly eight to go, I have to maintain this pace in order to get done in time. But just to jazz it up a little more, I decide to make this a form fartlek run. That means running the first half of each mile at tempo pace, whilst concentrating on my running form. The second half is at an easier pace. Guess what? This works out. I'm cooking with gas now.

My run takes another unexpected turn as I get about halfway back and encounter more BR activity. It turns out that the area around Hunt Farm is also on the course. This time, the runners I see coming the other way include my BR Marathon friends. I say hi to several of them and I let them know that I will see them in a little while.

I complete my run on time, so even though the run didn't turn out as expected, I can still consider it a (semi) success.

Afterward, I cheer my friends on at Pine Hollow and at Kendall Lake. It's fun to spectate once in a while. But of course I'm a little jealous. 

Not enough to actually do a trail run, mind you.

The Peninsula Nite Club, aka Winking Lizard
It's in the middle of all the fun associated with BR and also my run today

Parrot Head Run Race Report

I will rate the Parrot Head Run medium-high on the fun meter, and medium-low on the performance meter. I ran it because it is part of the Hermes Race Series. It's the fifth of those for me, and I need to do seven in order to be included in the overall scoring. You get points based on your age group or overall placement. I had won my age group in each of the previous four races.

That didn't happen today. Bill Long showed up. Before the race, he told me that he had not been racing, but with today's race, he would be back in the Hermes series. Dang. I also enjoyed talking with several other age-challenged guys like myself. 

At the start

With Don Salvador and some other friends

The race takes place in the Flats. There was a bunch of activity down there, including some sort of paddle and/or kayak races on the Cuyahoga River. The bars and restaurants were beginning to open up. I think that the place called "Good Night John Boy" used to be Margaritaville. That's where the start/finish was, and that's where I received my post-race beer. This is all factored into my medium-high on the fun meter rating.

Did I mention the heat? The air quality, which had been completely awful for two days, was much improved, but the heat was not. It was in the upper 80s during the event and 90 by the time I got back to my car. My car- that is, that was pretty far away because I didn't want to pay $20 to park close by. I didn't want to pay so much but I also did not want another parking violation. So I paid $4 to park under a bridge in an abandoned city lot.

I followed Bill most of the way, but I could never catch him, even though I thought I might. I think he wound up around 20 seconds ahead of me. Each of my mile splits was a little slower. That's not my preferred way to run a 5K, or any other race, for that matter. 

near the finish

My 26:13 was about average for me these days. 2nd in my ancient age group is okay. I am feeling okay now, but I also feel like I still need to get into better shape.

on the long walk back to the car

A Bright Spot in the Nighttime

Before the breathin' air is gone
Before the sun is just a bright spot in the night-time
Out where the rivers like to run
I stand alone and take back somethin' worth rememberin'

Those are some of the lyrics to Out in the Country, by Three Dog Night. Here in Northeast Ohio, we're experiencing this bright spot in the nighttime phenomenon. The toxic smoke from Canadian wildfires has caused our air quality to be at its historical worst ever. This has a profound effect on any outdoor work or activities, including, of course, running. The air quality became progressively worse by the minute during yesterday morning's run, and I was forced to cancel today's. It was back to the mill for me.

The good news is that my injuries appear to be in the past, and all I need to do now is to regain my fitness. That's easier said than done, but it's better than being injured. 

Regaining fitness is beginning to become more important though. Besides the two half-marathons scheduled for August, and September's Akron Marathon, I've now added another challenging event: The Kauai Marathon. 

Egads. Challenging is right.

A Midsummer Night's Run

It's actually a midsummer morning, but A Midsummer Morning's Run doesn't quite have the same ring to it. It is still dark, so there's that. 

Dan heads South on Substation Road. In the early morning gloom, he spots fireflies in the woods and a shooting star up above. Even though it's a Monday and he just did a long run last Thursday, he's going for 18+ today as well. But that will be tough at this slow pace.

He reaches his Decision point, the intersection of Substation and Sleepy Hollow. From here, a left turn will take him on his nine-mile course. Right or straight are for his two eleven-mile ones or his sixteen-mile course. Nine miles would be half of 18, and it would provide the opportunity to complete the second half of the run on the mill. He turns left.

These semi-rural roads can be great for running. As long as there isn't much traffic. Unfortunately, today's early-morning commuters did not receive the memo instructing them to remain off the roads for a few more hours. All this traffic is the main reason Dan rarely ventures on these courses anymore. He thought he could beat it today, but that's not happening. Early on Sunday mornings may be the last hope.

Dan manages to complete the slow nine-plus miles, but now he's still got nine to go. It's light out, and it's getting hotter. After an intermediate coffee and banana, onto the mill he goes. 

He does nine-plus more, so count it as nineteen for the day. It's not his best or proudest moment. But it's done.

Long

For the first time in nearly two months, I managed to do a long run today. It wasn't pretty, but it's DONE.

Daily running

Want further details? Here are a few: I started early, and it was already warm and humid. I did around 6 miles at the track, then 5.5 with friends at the Square, and then 6ish more back at the track. Even though it wasn't particularly fast, it was fairly steady, and I finished fairly well. Now, we start the big push.

Big Heart Update

I posted about a brain study that I was in, where the finding that I had an enlarged heart. Further testing confirmed that my right ventricle was dilated, and my right atrial cavity was severely dilated. Yesterday, I finally got to see a Sports Cardiologist.

After further confirming all the test results, she reviewed my history and lifestyle. Then she explained a whole lot, ending with (and I do believe these were her exact words): "It's the running, stupid."

Not really. She did actually say that my heart is just fine. In fact, I should keep doing what I'm doing.

I was gonna anyway.

Today's Tremendous Tuesday Track Tempo Trot

Been a while. It's warm and extremely humid as Dan hits the track this Tuesday with his friends. He warms up a little, not that he needs it in this heat. How much of a warm-up? Oh, six miles. If you said Dan was very much warmed up by the time he began his tempo trot, you wouldn't be wrong. Everyone else is wrapping up their workouts. But Dan begins his, and lo and behold, Dan becomes almost like the Dan of Old. He does four miles at a decent, though not too fast, pace.

The pain is nearly gone. The goal now is to get the fitness back slowly. Very slowly.

2026 Medina Twin Sizzler "race" report

Photo: Julie Boggs

Today's "race" wasn't bad. I do the Medina Twin Sizzler nearly every year, and it always sizzles with fun. The Square is alive with activity, and all my friends are there. I ran the 5K very slowly, and the 10K a little faster. That's something that never happened before.

Photo: Shannon Barnes

Although even the slightly speedier 10K was slow overall, I am happy to say that I managed to not hurt myself. It was relatively pain-free. This is highly encouraging.

Now, all I have to do is get back into shape. That's no small task.

Photo: Julie Boggs

Roscoe Ewing Park Trail

Dan commences his fourth sojourn down the Roscoe Ewing Park Trail. He had gone out and back with the 5:30 group, with the 6:00 group (there was some overlap among the runners), with one person after all that to go back to pick up the walkers, and finally, this time, alone. Why is he doing this in the ridiculous 81-degree early-morning heat? Because he wants his run to be in the double-digits, of course.

Dan knows that you have been wondering why he can no longer manage to run long distances. He would answer that the reason he can't run eighteen miles is that he can't do ten miles. The nagging injuries, of which he has many, keep him well under double-digits, and those used to be Dan's standard (almost-always) daily distance. Lately, unfortunately, five miles is the new ten.

Today will be different, thinks Dan. He will get his double-digits, even if it kills him and all his running friends. (Well, okay; not them. They were smart enough to get done and go home.) Dan shuffles back to the Square. His watch tells him that he did 10.1 miles.

This bodes well for a couple of reasons. He has the Medina Twin Sizzler coming up in two days. It will entail running a 5K and a 10K in this hot weather. Dan now believes that he may be capable of running the nine-plus-mile distance. It also bodes well because Dan managed to not be in an excessive amount of pain today, not even for the final miles. Will his good luck continue? Stay tuned.

 

The collection

When a photographer wants you to buy photos from a race, they provide proofs that you can choose from. In the old days before digital photography, they would send small proofs in the mail. Although I only bought a few photos, I kept all the proofs. Until now. Now, they're going in the trash.

But I still have all my bibs. ALL my bibs.

Running through the decades, on the sixes

It occurred to me that this knee injury is similar to one that I had in 2006. So I looked at my blog posts to remind myself of all the gory details. More on this exercise in a bit. First, let's take a look back at some other things that were happening in other past decades.

• 70 years ago, in 1956, I wasn't running much, except maybe a little bit around the yard. How could I? I was three. 
• 60 years ago, in 1966, I was running, but only enough to get by in football and baseball. At 13, sports were my life. I think I liked track and field, but wasn't yet ready to participate.
• 50 years ago, in 1976, I was indeed running. The running boom was happening all around, and I was in the thick of it. But I was only just getting started. To the best of my recollection, my first serious road race was not until the Johnnycake Jog race the following year.
• 40 years ago, in 1986, I had already run a few marathons, and having made the move to Michigan, was just beginning to run regularly again and train for my next one, which would occur in 1987.
• 30 years ago, in 1996, I was pretty much at my peak, running-wise. Interesting that this occurred around age 43 for me. I ran my third-ever ultra, which wasn't a big deal, and I ran four marathons (two of them under three hours), which was. The last one, a 2:59 at Toe-to-Tow, precursor to the Towpath Marathon, was the last time I ever broke three hours. For that and other reasons, it remains one of my most memorable.
• 20 years ago, in 2006, I was also having a good year. Until I wasn't. In April, I ran the Boston Marathon in 3:09. It was my best time in five years. Now 53, I truly believed I had a chance to break three hours for the first time since that Toe-to-Tow race, ten years past. This time, my focus was on the Columbus Marathon in October. Hold this thought for one more moment, so I can discuss 2016. I'll be back.
• 10 years ago, in 2016, I was into ultras, in a big way. Although I'd done one marathon, Landis Loonies, my focus was on the four ultras that I did: Green Jewel 50K, Rock the Ridge 50-mile, Mugrage Park 6-Hour, and Buckeye Woods 50K. Of those, Rock the Ridge was the most unique and memorable.

Now, let's get back to 2006, shall we? I had run the Tahoe Triple the prior year. It was three challenging marathons in three consecutive days. To train for it, I ran long runs on consecutive training days. During the peak of my Columbus training block, I decided to run two 20-milers on back-to-back days. Toward the end of the second one, I felt a sudden sharp pain behind my right knee. And just like that, it was the end of my sub-3 hopes. I ran a painful 3:18 in C-bus and never managed to get under 3:10 again.

Today, I decided to look up the blog post about that incident. I never figured out exactly what caused the pain, but at the time, I speculated that it was a torn meniscus. Whatever it was then, I believe it's the same thing now. 

The good news is that I did not stop running entirely, and the pain did eventually subside... after many months.

Acme Fresh Market Foundation 8k Race Report

"Oof." Every morning, whilst preparing for my run, I travel to the basement to get ready. It's where my running clothes and stuff live. That first step back up the stairs has been painful since I've been battling the old sciatica, or whatever this thing is. Such is the case today, but the good news is that things have improved a bit of late. This week's running hasn't been quite so awful.

The Acme Fresh Market Foundation 8k sounded like a good idea. It's part of the Akron Marathon race series; the other two races are the Goodyear Half and the Akron Marathon Full. Why not do this third one? And (the icing on the cake), everybody, even my friends, is doing it. It's also one of the many, many races I registered for before I began battling these injuries. I wouldn't be here if I hadn't already paid.

After my warmup jog, I bump into Julie Boggs and Theresa Wright. We begin the race together, and we stay close to one another throughout the first half. I'm feeling okay, but those two gradually pull away - they're speeding up, and I'm barely holding my pace. That pace is slow for a 5-mile race for me, but it's faster than I've run in well over a month. If I can just maintain it, I'll be able to call this a decent race.

"Oof." At the 4-Mile Marker, I feel a sudden sharp pain in my Left Calf. It slows me down from about 8:30 pace to around 14-minute pace. I'm horribly hobbling, and the other runners are passing me like crazy. I'd not been too far behind Julie and Theresa, but now those two are long gone. This calf thing is yet another injury that I've been dealing with. I'm sure it's related to the sciatica, but it is on the other side from my painful hip. Suffice it to say that everything hurts, but the calf wins the prize for this day.

The results are painful as well. I finished in 47:11, 7th in my age group. Had this been a 4-mile race, I'd be a somewhat-happy-camper. Mile 5 changed all that. Instead, call me a mostly-unhappy-camper.

Something to write home about

A month or two ago, if I did not run ten or more miles, it was something to write home about. That was then. Now, three and a half weeks into whatever this problem of mine is, I haven't been able to crack double digits at all. Until today. I did it, but it was only on my mill. And it wasn't pretty at all. I crashed for the final two miles and only shuffled it in to make my goal. So here I am, writing home about running ten miles.

Yesterday, I had my best run in a very long time. It was with friends at Brunswick Lake for six miles. I actually felt good, and we maintained a halfway decent pace - something I've also been struggling with. I was highly encouraged. But I should also point out that I took a Vitamin I (aka Ibuprofen) the previous evening. I only take them once in a very great while because there are some good reasons to avoid taking too many. How many is too many? I wish I knew.

Today's treadmill trot more or less started out where yesterday's run left off. And I was doing fine today as well. Until I wasn't. At about mile 8, I had to drastically slow down and struggle my way home. 

I have another group run planned for tomorrow morning. And I'm taking some more of my favorite vitamin tonight.

And yet. Here you are.

"How are you, Dan?" It's Rita Annes, another early morning runner from my Hood, coming up from behind. I've known Rita for years, and we occasionally bump into one another on the run. My slow shuffle is ludicrously slow this morning, so Rita has no trouble catching me. 

"Not so great; I'm hurting," I answer. 

"I can see that," says Rita, with a measure of sympathy in her voice. "And yet..." she says as she passes by. "Here you are!" That last bit was said with a good amount of respect and admiration. I'll take it. But I wish I could feel more deserving.

What I am feeling is pain. The days and days of rest are not helping, at least so far. I've said this before, so please excuse the repetition. It's not just his calf that's hurting; it's everything else as well.  Everything - every muscle, bone, tendon, brain cell, etc.

I feel like I'm running a marathon every day. Whether or not I even get out for a slow shuffle.

Hey, maybe this will help

 

Extra strength training and stretching? Sure, let's give it a shot.

Two consecutive rest days and other reduced mileage? That has to work.

Soaking in a hot Epsom salt bath? Certainly won't hurt.

Kinesio Tape? That will be the icing on the cake.

After all that, Dan thinks that perhaps today will be the day; the day that he begins the long road back to healthy, effective running. He's fairly determined to make this one a double-digit run day. Until a month ago, double-digit days were fairly standard. Now, it would be an accomplishment.

Dan arrives at the Square forty minutes early. This way, he can get four miles in prior to the six he will do with his friends at six (a.m.). Except he doesn't. He only shuffles around and uses the portable toilet and only gets two in. That's okay. He will run the six and then finish up with two extra miles when they all leave. No problem.

The group run begins with some amount of pain. Dan tells anyone who will listen that it's his calf, or perhaps something else behind his left knee. Dan does not tell his friends that he's got another problem, too. It's not just his calf that's hurting; it's everything else as well.  Everything - every muscle, bone, tendon, brain cell, etc. 

After a couple of increasingly painful miles, Dan has to slow to a walk. His friends graciously decide to walk with him instead of doing their own running. Dan is truly overwhelmed by their sacrifice, but he feels bad to have made them slow down. He's been doing a lot of slowing-of-friends lately.

What's next?? Dan wishes he knew.  The bottom line for today is that none of the above actually helped. He may need medical help. And/or possibly more time off. Dan is concerned that at his advanced age, he has to wonder whether a full recovery is still a possibility.

When he runs, he flies

This is another oldie that I just came across. It's from the early 1990s.

Picture this. A beautiful country setting of a dirt road with some woods on one side and some open fields and an old wooden fence on the other. Way off in the distance a lone runner slowly approaches. What could be more serene?

But wait a minute. That runner is suddenly showing some very strange behavior. He is alternately speeding up and slowing down, and even weaving from side to side on the road. He is clapping his hands high in the air and slapping the top of his head. Now he is running fast and then suddenly stopping and ducking, only to start running again. WHAT is going on here?

That was me. I'm not always quite that crazy, but the deer flies were after me. Welcome to summertime in rural Michigan.

Now I live in a nice, civilized place called Farmington Hills. Despite the name, there aren't a lot of farms here, and not a whole lot of wooded or other rural areas either. Deer flies are not welcome here. Thus, I don't look quite so funny when I run near home. It's when I run in other parts of Michigan that they get me.

My friend Brian lives in a somewhat more rural place called Oakland Township. Just as I've learned not to wear new shoes when running up there with him ("Time to turn down this muddy path, here"), I've given up expressing my requests to stay away from the woods ("Just this one dirt road" or "The only way back is on Paint Creek Trail"). But once they find us he becomes as miserable as I am. At least when there are two or more of us, we can slap at each other. This may look a little funny, too.

I am beginning to form a theory that the farther I get from Farmington Hills, the more flies there are. I've had occasion to run in the Upper Peninsula a few times. It is hard for me to believe that there are people who run up there all the time. Maybe they're immune to the flies. One of my runs began as one of the most beautiful, right along Lake Superior. It ended as one of the ugliest, as I discovered after one mile that I was literally covered with flies. After I turned to head back home, I may have broken the world record for the mile. I didn't stop to ask them whether they were black flies or deer flies.

All of this leads me to write a letter to the flies: Deer Flies, Please go away.

Slightly belated 1997 Ohio-Michigan Run Race Report

Sorry for the belated race report. Purely by chance, I came across this old file - a report from the

1997 Ohio-Michigan Run. 

I had won one race in my entire life. That was a 440 Yard run during 8th-grade track.
In these recent (and much later) years, I've unrealistically yearned to win another one.
The Ohio/Michigan Run consists of a Marathon, a 10K, and a 5K. All of the runs
begin in Ohio and go across to Michigan and back to Ohio. The 5K and 10K
are fast and competitive, with large fields.

The Marathon is different. About 65 of us lined up for the 6:00 AM start that July
morning. The humidity and warm temperatures ensure that only die-hards would be out

to do such a foolhardy event. The course consists of 8
and 1/2 laps of the 5K course, which is a simple out-and-back run on one road.
Runners cross the Ohio/Michigan State Line 18 times.

My goal was to run each 5K in 21 minutes and the last 1.4-mile loop in 9 or
10 minutes, to just break three hours. Never has a race gone so completely
according to plan; I did, in fact, manage to average just about 21 minutes per
lap. At halfway, I was in fifth place, about 4 minutes behind the leader.
It is really interesting to be able to see all of the other competitors throughout
the race. It even makes for good camaraderie, as many of us would yell 

encouragement to each other as we went by.

As a running mate dropped off a bit, I gradually began to pass the runners
between myself and the leader. His lead slowly dwindled, decreasing
by around one minute per lap, until only one minute separated us
for the last 5K, and then only 1/2 minute for the last 1/2 lap. After the final
turnaround,  I could finally see him ahead of me. I was closing fast,
running at full-tilt, but just couldn't get to him in before he crossed the finish line.
Never before have I wished that a marathon was longer, but I only needed
another 200 yards or so to have passed him.

My time was 2:58:00, a PR by about 14 seconds! The winner was just seconds
ahead of that. Could I have run just a bit faster to make up the difference? I've
searched my conscience, and the answer is no; I had given it all I had.