What a great race! I did the final Race for the Taste 10K this morning and it was purely sensational. Loved every step of the way.

The race began in typical Disney fashion. Purple and gold fireworks splashed across the sky, just before the sun woke from his slumber, letting the 5000 runner know it is time to do the dance.  The first 2 miles are always a little tight moving. You definitely get to know each other in ways you really don’t want to know each other but once cleared, a steady rhythm evolves. Everyone runs according to a different heart beat, a different desire.

I had the pleasure of speaking with a gentleman from Kenya as we entered Hollywood Studios, the half way mark. People who have grown up in abject poverty truly love America. Not that I needed one but reminders are always welcome. Wonderful guy.

In every race, there are moments that transcend the race. For me, they ARE the race, the reasons for racing. After snaking through Hollywood Studios and down the Boardwalk (my new favorite place for midnight runs), we were just about to enter EPCOT when the “it” moment happened.

A family of 4 was walking in the opposite direction when I heard the father grumble, “Why would anyone want to do that kind of thing (referring to this event)?!” No less than 3 seconds later, one of the volunteers unknowingly answered. In a booming voice reminiscent of a football coach yelling out a play, he shouted encouragingly, “Keep going guys. You are living the dream!” Two people. Same world. Completely different realities.

“You are living the dream!” What a powerful statement. I brought that statement with me for the rest of the way and it really impacted me. It was truth or at least my truth. Some time ago, Mother Life in her usual soft fashion asked a couple of questions. Do you want to watch or do you want to participate with me? Do you want to drift or have a direction? Do you want comfort or do you want to live the dream?

As I ran past the countries, my answers have always been clear and consistent – Yes, Hai, Da, Oui, Si. In any language, my answer is yes. These events serve as a reminder that I am participating and by participating,  I am living the dream. Gratitude, effort and surrounding myself with like-minded people such as Lisa make it possible. Mother Life could not be happier.

Nor could I.

Today was the last Race for the Taste that Disney will offer. C’est la Vie.

You have brought a lot of happiness to a lot of people my friend.

Lisa posted her picture drawn from her first art class in Mt. Dora a couple of days ago. Virtually everyone who saw the picture was incredibly impressed and expressed this to her. She asked me what I thought and I answered bluntly and honestly, “It is amazing! The details, the creativity and all involved are very impressive. And this is your first effort?!”

Today, during my 7 mile run, the picture, topic and question she posed to me,  popped into my consciousness and my reply was much different this time. Now I realized that I did not have the right to answer the question. Actually, I did not earn the right to answer the question of what I thought of it.

I did not take the class. I have never taken an art class as it is not an area of interest. If I was somehow coerced into taking one, I would not have the courage to post my picture for sure. This I am positive. My artistic skill piqued around the age of 5 and my ego, or what would be left of it, would be shredded like confetti.

I see this so often. People who won’t step up to the plate are often the first to provide opinions, critiques and criticism. I have noted this in Systema. Those who have never taken a class providing a 7 minute dissertation on the subject of striking or kick defense. Those who make grandiose claims of how far, how fast and how often they run, never actually prove it at a race, with others around. Writers who don’t write. Film makers who have produced zero clips. The list goes on and on.

To me, the marathon is the perfect metaphor for this situation.

I refer to the marathon as the great truth detector. The marathon tells no stories. It only asks 2 question:

1. Do you have the courage to get to the starting line?

2. Were you truthful in your training as to get the the finish line?

In between these is where the magic happens. It happens because a few thousand people have the courage to do. Just the way Lisa did.

She is my continual reminder that living our life to its fullest is our responsibility as well as a  gift. Diane Ackerman, the American naturalist said it best. I don’t want to get to the end of my life and find that I have just lived the length of it. I want to have lived the width of it as well.

“It was the best of times.

. . .and it seems to just get better.”

Lisa and I often joke about being dropped into our family by aliens or perhaps switched at birth. We share little to nothing in common with our families, immediate and distant and everywhere in between.

They call it is crazy to run 10 miles. We call it Saturday. Phrases like “working toward retirement” or loving the “benefits” from a given job are common with them,  while “maximizing our life” or “living in abundance” are phrases we live by. They read the newspaper and talk about school and church. We read Thict Nat Han and talk about quantum physics and ultramarathoning. One is not better or worse. Each has its specific rewards and challenges. Apples and oranges. Yin and Yang. What ever term works for you. “Different” is as good as any.

The 2 family members that do share more in common than any would be our fathers. I have never met two individuals who epitomized the definition of integrity, honor and love of family than our dads. They also shared skills that were eerily similar.  Give then a box of toothpicks, some duct tape and 3 days and they would have built a mall, complete with fountains and waterfalls. Granted, there were some differences as one would expect, but I could have very easily seen them as somewhere between great and best of friends.

Though there were many factors, the common thread that drew me close to my dad and to Lisa’s dad was sports. Neither were big into talking about it but doing or being involved in my (and Lisa’s) doing was another story.

With Lisa’s Dad, it was running. With a little prodding and encouragement, her Dad and Mom jumped into the world of running. One of my fondest memories was their post-Watermelon 5K reaction. While yours truly was in the front of the car with tongue hanging out, doing my best St. Bernard imitation, her parents were in the back seats laughing like 2 high schoolers on their first date. They were the poster children for what events are all about — a celebration of running. A celebration of living. Their joy and experience from the event could not be contained. Nor should it have been.  It was a huge lesson. If you are not having fun, go do something else. From this day forward, my joy for running dramatically increased.

On the somber side, I could still recall the conversation Lisa’s dad, David, had with one of his relatives. It was during his last 3 months of his life, what would be his last Thanksgiving. During the conversation, he expressed his deep disappointment in not being able to attempt (and undoubtedly complete) a half marathon. For the passive observer, this may not sound like a lot but for him, I think it meant a great deal.  It was also the most important gift he ever gave me — a reminder that when you want to do something, Now is the only time.

He also taught a valuable lesson, a lesson my dad taught so many times. It took me 45 years to finally fully understand.

For me and my father, our point of connection  were  baseball and karate. These were my passions, my games and ones that absorbed my time and consciousness for countless hours. They were the topic of conversations that were some of the happiest I ever had.

When you play a sport long enough, you will experience the Mt. Everest peaks and the below sea level valleys. When I would hit a home run or a game winning double, or come home with one my 1st place trophies for winning the karate tourney, he would be elated. Happier for me that I was for me.

On the others side, when the strike outs or errors would pile up, or the only thing I would bring home from a karate tournament was a broken nose or swollen eye, he never react judgmentally. He understood.  He would allow some time — a brief time – for me to wallow in my self pity and then we would evaluate. What went wrong? How will you correct it next time?

I had the best run today that I have had in 3 years. When things like this happen, I think, feel and am inspired. For unknown reasons, both dads were on my mind. And then it clicked. . . . I understood the lessons both taught, albeit it in  different ways.

For most of my life, the Finish Line was the focus. It was my target, my attention point, my obsession. It meant something big to cross this. It may not have been as good as the journey itself, but make no mistake, it was a great feeling to have it at my back. It was the cherry on top of the cake.

Today, I realized, the Finish Line is great. But it is the Starting Line that really matters. I don’t think my father really cared in one sense, if I hit a 380 ft home run or struck out with the bases loaded (though both of us would have certainly preferred the former). It only mattered that I stood at the plate. In fact, it matter more that I stood at the plate after the prior strike out more than the prior home run.

Whether I came home with the winning trophy or my opponent wiped the floors with me, it only mattered that I got back on the mats and stood toe to toe. There were times I was downright afraid. Other times, my confidence was the size of Saturn. None of that was really important. Only standing up, participating and being a part of life mattered. That was the lesson.

I don’t think Lisa’s dad was upset about not getting the Mickey medal or having us crew him, cheer him or be his bookends during the race. I do not think he cared whether he finished or not (he would have). I think he missed not getting to the Start Line.

I have this fantasy that someday, we all will get to run that race in heaven when we all have crossed over the great river.

I better start getting much, much better if I want to keep up with them.

Plus I need to train for that race.

This weekend’s Systema training was an eye opener. We had people from Ft. Myers, W. Palm Beach and even Georgia, drive several hours to train for 6 hours in the heat and humidity. The training itself was very physical to boot from taking hard strikes to vigorous take downs to grinding ground work. Afterward, they drove the 4 or 5 hours back home, a little bruised, a lot tired and very happy.

My friend Dan from S. Florida confirmed that he would come. Many times, he has expressed his desire to train in this art.  He once again, did not come. He lives less than an hour from where THE country’s foremost masters teach and yet never makes class. Too tired. Too far. Too . . . fill-in-the-blank. In nearly 2 years, I have never missed my scheduled class, despite the 7 hours of driving to and fro.

It is a pattern, one that I have seen for many years and I wondered why.

After the training, I came home to shower and relax. A strange and valuable thing happens when you are both relaxed, tired and inspired after doing something you love — there is a keen sense of observation. It is as if a 6th sense kicks in and in the moments of silence caused by the fatigue, answers bubble to the surface.

People like my friend Dan live in the mind. They think about the proposed scenario, briefly feel inspired by it and then immediately default back to thinking mode. For completing calculus computations, this is ideal. For living a happy life, it is a hindrance. The problem with thinking is that the best you can do is rehash your own thoughts. Living in the mind is living in the past. The mind only has access to recalling, reliving and reverting to prior behavior. Like a trained puppy, all the mind can do is perform habitual patterns of behavior.

After I came home and settled in, I listened to Lisa speak about her early morning run, plans for upcoming events and dreams about major challenges along the not too distant future road. And there it was. . . .clear as day. The difference that makes the difference.

Lisa is one of those individuals who, though possessive of a keep intellect, lives her life through her Heart and that is the difference. Her mind is the temporary consultant she “hires” for various tasks but it is her employee. Not the boss.

When you live through your Heart, Passion, Dreams and Inspiration are your constant companions. The Heart is the translator for the language spoken by the Spirit and the ceremonial grace that blesses the targets of Joy. The Heart provides the tools that take away the grays and adds vivid colors to our lives. When one dream is completed, it gives birth to something new and the perpetual cycle continues for those willing to live through their Heart.

It is not surprising that no family member or relatives and only a few friends have logged the kind of miles and done the types of events that Lisa regularly does. It is not genetics. Nor it is luck, good fortunate or anything else along this vein. Rather, it is a daily choice. A way of life.

I know of no one else who consistently takes on ventures like a 7 hour trip to train in Kyudo, song writing (and soon to be released CD), ultra marathons, summer dance class,  art class in Mt. Dora etc. etc. etc. Nor do I know of anyone as happy as she. Predictable correlation.

The French philosopher and writer Denis Diderot said it best:

“Only passions, great passions can elevate the soul to great things…”

One of my favorite movies ever is called “Stranger than Fiction.” It is a somewhat odd movie about a character named Harold Crick who hears a narrator’s voice, commenting on his life. There are so many messages and teaching in this movie that I consider it one of the most entertaining and inspirational ones I have ever seen.

One of the phrases used in the movie is “Little did I know. . . .” Dustin Hoffman’s character uses this small phrase as a launching pad for. . . . well. . . .rent the movie. It is worth it.

Sometimes, it is the small phrases that have the biggest impact. I heard one this morning. Lisa was telling me a story of an acquaintance and despite their desires to improve their status, continues to do everything the same. It was not a particularly surprising theme by any means. We have heard, read or done this before. Just when the wheels started turning, searching for a reason, Lisa added the tag line, the Cliff Notes solution to this common problem. “When I was singing or doing commercial work, I went out of my way. . . . . . “ 6 monosyllabic words that provide the blueprint to succeeding.

“I went out of my way.”

Many times, we have grandiose dreams, desires and goals and get incredibly excited about them. This is the one – this is the job or relationship or class that will change my life, improve my status and give me the keys to the kingdom. Yes, the juices are flowing and excitement is in the air; that is, until we realize it is $100 more than expected or 25 miles out of our way. The self-imposed stop signs go up and the dreams are popped like a helium balloon stuck with a needle.

Yes, we want it but we all too often want it in a convenient fashion. Here in lies a huge difference between those who do and those who want to do. The former is aware of obstacles but sees them as a part of the process of going for something important. They usually don’t want to drive 3 hours or have to take 4 classes instead of the anticipated 1 but the dream is that important, that vivid and if it takes doing this, so be it.

The latter group lives in a much different world. If it is not convenient, it does not get done. If it is not close, inexpensive and not requiring excessive effort then perhaps it is doable. Can you see the problem here? How many things fit these criterion?

I listen to others explain why that one or this one succeeded.  They were “lucky” or “talented” or “fortunate to have been born in that family.” The rationale list is seemingly endless. Each is  accepted as truth and used quite often. Not accurately, but often. Success is usually simpler. Is is basic, direct and easy to understand. It offers no excuses or “back door” escapes. It presents itself open to the public, in plain view to anyone. No secret handshakes or mystical chanting. It is so simple, perhaps that is why few do it.

Just go out of your way.

I rather not think of all the classes I have taken over the years. From standards like Organic chemistry, trigonometry and biophysics to the odd ones like radionics, feng shui and auriculomedicine. It has been a privledge  to learn about information, about others and about self.

Of all the classes I have taken, I have learned most from 1 “class” — marathons. The Marathon is a continual lesson which never grade on a curve. It expects more from you that you think you are capable of giving. Some are not ready for these demands. Others prosper. Still others will not sign up for the class. Too intimidated by the teacher.

The marathon has taught me so much. One lesson is that I can exercise my Spirit as well as my body. At around the 18-20 mile mark, the body has had enough. Glucose reserves are drained and it simply cannot replenish the nutrition it so desperately needs. It is at this moment the Spirit takes the helm. It provides the nameless source of energy that propels one toward the promise land — the finish line.

The marathon has taught me a deep sense of appreciation. I am grateful for all the support and encouragement from my family and friends both in training and in the events. Their faith in me is a treasured gift to be opened at times when fatigue is high and confidence is low.  Nothing is better than having people I care about being there at the finish line. I am sure the last thing they want to do is get up early, drive to the event and wait. Yet, they set an example of putting self aside for another.

I am grateful for my health. Though I do not have anything close to the classic marathoner’s physique, I always manage to have a celebration in front of me and the finish line at my back.

I am also grateful for the gifts I have been given. The one that I treasure the most is Fire — the relentless motivation to explore and live my life with passion. Fire adds the brilliant colors, crisp melodic sounds and mouth watering tastes that Mother Life has to offer.

The marathon has taught me to become keenly aware of Time. The irony is that finishing time means next to nothing to me, a unique trait among runners. What I am aware of relating to time is my mortality. When I was 20, I was quite certain that I would live forever. Now the awareness of being past the half way mark has become acutely disturbing. My friend Patrick provided the the solution from his IBM days: “If you can’t fix it, feature it.” Via the marathon, I have taken these lessons and experiences and gone full throttle forward.

Since I started marathoning, I have accumulated an exact total of zero regrets. What I want to do, I do. Failure be damned. The Code of David is simple and clear: “Chance favors the bold.”

Why take on this code at 45? An infinite list of reasons but at the top of the list is this — I believe regret is the primary cause of death. When there is no carrot to chase or rainbow to find, people quit. The light goes out and then it is only a matter of time before the Reaper comes knocking on the door. Or worse yet are the individuals who are part of the living dead. Their zest for life is gone but there is still a decade or 2 left on the clock.

Because of the marathon, I have become even more aware of the inherent goodness in people. Driving brings out the worst in people. Marathons bring out the best. I have witnessed some of the kindness, most caring acts I have ever seen from the runners, volunteers and spectators. I see this and want to become a better person. In fact, after seeing this, I have no excuse not to become one.

Following this, the marathon has helped me find and create a better version of myself. How? The examples are all around me. The longer I go, the more I see. Fatigue has a huge positive side-effect. It brings out the best in others, making one keenly aware that there are bigger things in life than self.

Humility is something I have also learned. In baseball and martial arts to a fair extent, I became accustomed to excelling. Marathons have forced me to explore the other side of the spectrum. Words like compassion and understanding begin to mean something deeper in marathons and in life. The absurdity of arrogance and ego emerge. Such frail little creatures.

I also learned that Reincarnation is a fact. No, not that reincarnation. That one is too complicated for one mind. The one is refer to is the act of creating or re-creating a new you. Feel angry? Depressed? Self pity sticking like glue? Do a marathon and watch the butterfly leave the cocoon.

I also know that everyone matters. The winner. The nameless people who cross the finish line last. The poor souls who could not make it that day. Everyone matters. Everyone is a some one and when this is recognized, only good follows. Your heart smiles when this lesson is finally understood. I get the feeling Someone else does too.

Celebrations matter. You only have so many of them. They bookend daily routines and stand out forever in the mind.

Blisters are temporary. Soreness will disapate. Memories will go on through eternity.

It is also therapy. I have learned more about myself, particularly during the last 8 miles or so that if I had done 10 years of psycho-analysis.

Finally, there is something about accomplishing something challenging. Something that makes the energy surge inside like nothing else. Something that makes the soul soar like a hawk. The marathon is fun at times, running and seeing  magnificent sights and creatures along the way. It is great great to meet people from around the globe and learn of other cultures.

The gifts the marathon provides are priceless. Life is never the same.

All for in only 26.2 miles.

This rather ominous sounding event was in fact, a very pleasant way to begin the season of exciting events. The distances were modest — 4 miles on Friday night, 5K on Saturday morning and a 1 mile sprint on Saturday at 4:30. Despite the relatively short distances, it was a little more challenging than I expected. Running in the sand, dodging the waves on Friday night was little quad burning. I felt like a really big hamster at times, churning my legs but not moving very far. Fortunately most of the sand was relatively solid.

Saturday’s 5K reminded me of the Watermelon run on the 4th of July. Flat course through a nice neighborhood with friendly people. . .at about a thousand degrees.

The afternoon 1 mile sprint was in the downtown area at a place called the Landing. The Landing is similar to Bayshore in N. Miami but not nearly as popular, colorful or filled with finer stores. It seems to have had its day and is in dire need of a face lift and shot of new blood.

The event was a 2 loop run, featuring an uphill near the beginning.  It was flat and fast but the heat radiating off the black top presented a smothering challenge.

Overall, it was a fine event. Well organized. Exceptionally friendly people — both participants and residents.

Beneath the surface, this event was an amalgamation of coincidences and reminders. Friday night, there was of all things, a small booth promoting for the first time, a 5K. . . for pancreatic cancer awareness. Saturday morning, a Sheltie (our first dog) named Max came to visit me.

The former struck a chord because of Lisa’s father having bravely battled and finally succumbing to this disease. Last week, I found out my friend Mel passed away. He had a great dog. . . named Max. The dog’s owner was originally from Ohio and now lives in Boynton Beach. Mel made Boynton Beach his home, having moved here from Ohio.

Strange coincidences? Maybe. I prefer to interpret them as messages or perhaps reminders. It felt like a pat on the back from my dear friends who are happy that I am doing what I love. It was a reminder that this is what life is about — living with passion, interacting with others and expanding your world.

Prior to leaving, I was worried and  anxious about something I cannot even remember now. Coming home, I was filled with happiness and inspiration, ready to take on newness and co-create my world.

I was waiting for the last leg of the Tour de Pain and picked up the newspaper. Scanning through, I read my horoscope which stated: “The Slovenian adventurer Martin Strel swam the length of Brazil’s Amazon River (aboput 3000 miles). He breast-stroked the entire Yangtze River (in China, 2500 miles). Next up was the Nile. That’s the spirit I hope you’ll summon during this next period. Drop the customary comforts and commonness and live a life of adventure.” I could not have hand written a better message.

I think my dear friends agreed.

My friend of about 13 years, Mel Kociubes passed away recently. I spoke with his brother Joe who informed me that he had cross over on May 23rd of this year. It was a very sad occasion.

Mel was a great person. I met him as a patient at the Institute of Natural Medicine and we became friends over time. He was one of the kindest, most generous, likable people I have ever come across. There is a book which asks the question, “Who are the 5 People You Want to Meet in Heaven?” Most people pick individuals like Plato, George Washington, Mother Theresa etc. Mel would be in my top 5. Though I am in no hurry, I would take the time to give him a hug and let him know how much he meant to me.

When I first was in practice, like most new graduates, I had a small mountain of debt (student loans). Things were as promising as they were lean. Mel would often take opportunities to write contracts or other legal work pro bono. Even when things greatly improved, he would often charge a fraction of the true cost. When you have a big heart, things like this come naturally to you. Mel had a huge heart.

More than that, Mel was a friend in the truest sense of the word. He was one of the brightest guys I ever came across and would blend this with a sense of humor and genuine caring for people. The world was better when Mel was here.

The greatest compliment one person could give another is this: “My life is better because you are/were  in it.”  This is true of Mel.

My friend is gone and my heart is very heavy. I suspect this is true for all who new him. Some people have that effect on others.  To say I am most grateful for Mel in my life is an understatement. I am extremely sad is see him cross over.

It is moments like this where life is rather confusing. Why would someone like Mel live less than 6 decades? Where is he now? Does he know how much he meant to us? More questions than answers.

I find myself reflecting on my own life at moments like this. If the show ended today, would I have lived the life I wanted? Would I have left a favorable impact on others like Mel? When people like Mel cross, I think the last gift they give us is the opportunity to review these types of question. Perhaps they remind us that nothing is certain and time is precious. Are we expanding our world or hiding from it? Are we making the most of it or just wasting time? Do we treat each other as our brothers and sisters or not? And so much more. . .

If you are reading this Mel, I thank you so much for your kindness and generosity. Thank you for your examples of what it is like to be a genuine, kind person. Most of all I thank you for being a friend.  I miss you.