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The Broken are the More Evolved

Starting with 2014s BostonStrong, I’ve chosen a word to define my year, every year. It has always been spot on, and there has always been an unanticipated (but perfectly) fitting twist. Live (’15), Alive (’16), Survive (’17), Thrive (’18), Epic (’19), Renew (’20), Serenity (’21), Empower (’22) and Blossom (’23) all very well defined my growth that year.

Last year I set a second half intention as well: Blend. Last years second half theme, and some of the inspiration for this years specific choice unintentionally mesh in ways I’d not initially realized, and I can’t wait to see the growth that transpires within this trajectory as the year progresses.

This years theme is decidedly darker. And very deliberately so. This year, I am BROKEN!

I first watched M. Night Shyamalan’s thriller “Split” in October of 2016. The timing of that, and the strength I harnessed within myself immediately following that is another story for another time. But there is good reason my old steel roadie 🚲 is named The Beast, and I cannot thank him enough for this supervillain origin story from which I’ve since cherry-picked aspects to bring to light in my own personality and journey.

(SPOILER ALERT) – Diving into the darkness of this years theme necessitates an understanding of Split plot lines and character development. Linked below, is the most crucial five minutes… which left me walking out of the theater, my head throbbing with concussion headaches, but extremely fired up.

“We are glorious. We will no longer be afraid. Only through pain can you achieve your greatness.”

Indeed it has thus far been predominantly through pain I have found MY greatness. Only, and the implied correlation to trauma, is something The Beast and I disagree on. Trauma is not the ONLY way. Just because it has been mine since I was a child does not mean everyone must suffer. This is one of the reasons I love pacing marathons. Though we could have discussions on whether running your first, fastest, or any marathon constitutes ‘pain’… the growth through running is very real. I’ve seen so many people blossom, both within and beyond the sport, as a result of those efforts. Physically, emotionally, spiritually this sport lifts us. I love being a part of that… Of seeing people awaken their own greatness without the traumas so many of us endure.

“Those who have not been torn (often) have no value in themselves…. They are asleep.”

Here again The Beast and I mostly agree. There are many who have found self worth and value without being torn asunder. I was NOT one of them. I accept that. Traumas have repeatedly jarred me from sleepwalking blindly through life. And I will use the awakening I found through that suffering to lift me further yet. That will always be PART of who I am.

“Your ____ cannot hurt me… Kevin is a man. I am much more!”

Bullies, bombs, betrayal. It’s all the same. These have tried, and failed, to destroy me. They DID hurt me once (ehh many times actually), but I am resilient. I emerged stronger every time. I will continue to do so.

“You are different from the rest. Your heart is pure. Rejoice. The Broken are the more evolved. Rejoice!”

THIS will be my 2024. In the movie, only the Broken survive. I was Broken many times. I remain Broken now. In some ways I will always be Broken. Yet in the darkness of those traumas, I have always found the Light. I have learned to harness it, focus it, and magnify it. I am NOT split, Ken holds the Light, and choses to blend all the best together. Inhuman strength and agility. That sounds pretty sweet to me!

This past year broke me in ways I’d not thought possible. Blossom was not meant to be the year in which I buried my best friend 🐕, and along with him my 💔. But flowers are seasonal… perhaps what blossomed last year was necessary to awaken the potential for a far more bountiful and longer lasting harvest. Those bulbs lay just below the surface at this very moment, waiting for the right time. When they emerge, it will be more glorious than before. Seriously… The best fertilizer is 💩. And you do realize the utter darkness in which 💎 form, right?

In 2023, my running was at its best when I was MOST broken. While some may wallow in self pity, I see it as a trampoline. The deeper, the darker I go… the more I rebound into pure Light. Mere days after the lowest point of the year I set a huge marathon PR – despite the fact that I’d done ZERO proper training or speedwork in half a decade. Rejoice indeed!

Perhaps this year is just a sacrifice:

  • An opportunity to wrestle my demons. In high school, I may not have known how to push my own buttons. Now I do. There will be no mercy on this mat.
  • It is a chance to tame some more dragons.
    Zaldrīzes buzdari iksos daor. No, but they will purr curled up at my feet. And will scorch the earth at my bidding, by choice.
  • Now is the time I slay the giant. Goliath was always doomed. That which has enslaved me, held me back or otherwise impaired my growth has no place anymore.

Things will be very different this year. Honestly, a lot of it doesn’t thrill me. I’m going to miss pacing. I’m going to miss frequent race events. I’ll be spending a lot of time holed up here at the Hobo Hideout getting my life in order.

But I’m excited. That time will allow me to focus entirely on my health and wellness. I’m not afraid of the dark. I’ve faced it many times before. And the wisdom I bring into the pain cave with me this year? I can’t imagine the transformation my high school self would have gone through if he’d had even a fraction of the understanding I do now!

The Beast chose to remain Broken, to remain in the darkness. I chose otherwise. Inevitably parts of self will break again. But I have a firm grip on the Light. The darkness I face will do my bidding. It has before, and it will sleep far, far away when I so require. Now I am battered and Broken, but this is merely the starting line to an Unbreakable future. I couldn’t quite bench 350lb in 2000 either, but there’s time yet. 2025 spoiler alert perhaps? 😼 14 year old me feels like I’ve been here before. 16 year old me smirks knowing what comes next…

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From the Ashes • Marathon Maniacs guest blog

It’s been over a year since my last post.  My latest is now live over at Marathon Maniacs.  Click through and let me know what you think.  I’ll write more if that’s what folks want, otherwise I’ll stick to the running!

From the Ashes…

Where do I even begin? This past several years has been nothing short of epic! Although I’ve had every reason to be miserable and depressed, pining away the days crying in a bed somewhere… instead I’ve been happier than I ever thought possible. Some fundamental life choices have made all the difference in that outcome.

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HoboRunner

It’s been a long time since I’ve enjoyed celebrating my birthday.  It’s just another day… except now I’m 86400 seconds older than I was yesterday.  Which is exactly the same thing I could say yesterday, and if I’m lucky will be able to say tomorrow.  I’m not a year older today.  Just a day older.  Yes, now I can say I’m 38.  But I’m also a year closer to death.

You see I don’t celebrate birthdays… I celebrate *everyday*.  I don’t know which will be my last, so I live each moment with no regrets.  In many ways I’m living on borrowed time right now.  Between the marathon bombing shattering my psyche and that hit and run devastating my body two and a half years ago… perhaps I should be dead already.

Yet I’m still here.  Sort of.

It’s been a rough month.  I lost my home.  The condo in South Beach that I thought would be my home base until old age or sea level rise washed it away – I was given the boot and no place to go.  I’d lived there for longer than anywhere else in my life, and it was the first place that I actually considered my long term home.  And just like that it was gone.

Losing that home set off a chain reaction… since my brain still doesn’t function right, I still can’t manage a regular job.  Miami isn’t exactly a cheap place to live, so there was no way I could get by anymore in the 305.  Good-bye Miami!  I don’t have any other choice.  Of course that meant I couldn’t get to my few remaining clients anymore – the few that had held on through my injuries, and were understanding enough to wait months or years for appointments, let my errors slide, deal with last minute health issues, and still stick with me.  SoBeMac had survived so many things.  I’d poured my heart and sole into that business, and with great sacrifice kept it on life support these past few years.  Just like that… it was over.  RIP SoBeMac.

The worst part was that this move-out has been the absolute worst thing for my health.  Doctors told me to rest my brain until 7 days after the last headache.  It’s been years since the last time I didn’t have a headache… so I’m supposed to be avoiding stress and loud environments.   Yeah right…

I feel like I’ve regressed back to where I was the moment I was hit.  I can barely stay upright at times, sometimes wearing a bicycle helmet walking around to protect me from my inevitable falls.  Back, leg and neck pain levels are through the roof and whats left of my brain feels like its going to explode.  I still can’t get healthcare and I’m legally barred from seeking compensation for my injuries.   It’s going to be a long road to recovery.

Somehow I’m still not worried!  I’m an endurance athlete, a distance runner.  I’ll find my way to the finish.  I don’t know where I’m going to end up.  I don’t know how I’m going to get there.  But I do know that I will persevere.  I do know that I will get through this, and somehow end up on my feet at the other side.  Left foot, right foot, face plant is still forward progress.  As long as I keep getting back up and keep trudging forward, I will be OK.

Over these past few years, my running, and my running family have been pretty much all I’ve had.   These are the things that have kept me going, and will continue to do so.  So as I search for a place to rest my weary head, pardon the meager updates.  Whether it is through this blog or in other ways, wherever I end up I will continue to be a part of the running community.  You’ve all been my family, and I can’t imagine how things would have ended up without you.  I’ll still post on social media when I can get online, and will try my best to respond to those who reach out.  I’m not sure what the future of this blog will be, but I know I will keep running

Yes, I am now officially #HoboRunner

 

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Keep Pushing Forward • Hotlanta Half Marathon, Atlanta, GA, USA

There are days when I wake up and feel great.  The pain is still there, my brain is still off… but relatively speaking I feel like I’m on top of the world.  There are also days like today.  From early on I often know its going to be a rough one.  When I got moving first thing this morning, I felt way off.  I hoped it would be something I could shrug off.  I was wrong.

I’d already adjusted my expectations.  Most days, 1:30ish is my general target.  It’s a solid workout, but not a backbreaker.  If the circumstances are right, I’ll adjust to a quicker target pace.  When its bad weather, a hilly course or I’m just not feeling it I have to adapt in the other direction.  The weather was nice this morning, and I’ve crushed worse hills.  On the other hand, I just wasn’t feeling it.  I lined up near the front, just ahead of the 1:45 pace group.  I figured I’d go for a 1:40, and if I really struggled could just fall back and run with them.  This wasn’t going to be the moderately fast race I’d hoped when the weekend started.  

As the hot summer sun started to beat down, the Hotlanta Half Marathon took off from the Coca-Cola museum.  Almost immediately we started to climb.  Of course, that meant I slowed substantially.  I was sure I’d recover after the climb, but today it just wasn’t happening.  Between the frequent ups and downs on the course and my general health this morning… yeah… I just needed to finish.  Right from the beginning I sensed how off my brain was.  Yes, my back was killing me.  Yes, my legs were killing me.  But that’s only pain.  I can handle that.  It won’t kill me.  The problem today was that my brain was off.  As soon as I increased my exertion level, I noticed it: my balance was off.  This was a problem.  I tuned into it… I wasn’t exactly running easily today.  There was a bit of a stumble in my steps.  I’m pretty sure I would have failed the ‘walk the line’ DUI test.  This did not bode well for the next 12 plus miles.  Now, I just hoped I could stay with the 1:45 pace team.   That would be acceptable.  If not, just finish…

Normally, I pay more attention to the race course.  Normally I immerse myself in the run, in the race environment.  Today, it took everything I had just to keep myself upright and moving forward.  We raced past some downtown Atlanta landmarks, Olympic stadiums and along the beltway trail.  For the first half and change, I stayed in proximity of the pace team.  At mile 6.5, they break out singing “Whoaaaa we’re half way there! Whoaaaa! Living on a prayer!”  Normally I’d be all about that.  Today, I just focused on my steps.  We hit mile 8 – time for my strong MR8K finish.  I picked it up a bit, and quickly regretted it.  I’m certainly healthier now than I was two years ago.  Although I almost did (multiple times), this time I did not fall.  I stumbled, I slowed, but I did not stop.  These last four miles were going to be quite rough.

The pace team now well ahead of me, we raced through the most shaded portion of the course: Piedmont Park.  I couldn’t exactly enjoy it though.  I was battling some serious physical demons.  Each mile seemed to take forever.  Some days the miles flow by.  The race starts and it seems like only five minutes later I’m already at mile ten.  Today it seemed like I’d been running for an hour before I hit the next mile marker.  Then two more before I hit the next.  This sucked.

Now I’m worrying about if the 2:00 pace team will catch me.  I didn’t want another 2+ half.  It’s frustrating knowing that I’m so much better than this, yet that someone else’s sins are still forcing me to suffer.  But damn it!  I will not let that negativity define my life.  I will defy the odds, and I will live the life I choose to live.  Pain won’t stop that.  Suffering is a blessing: I’m still alive to experience it!  So I keep trudging along.  Honestly… I worry that I will fall, that I won’t be able to catch myself with my next stumble.  So I run slowly, carefully, focusing solely on that slow forward progress.  I see a familiar sight ahead – we run past Georgia Tech’s football stadium.  I’d been here for a BC game years back.  Despite everything that has happened since then: I’m still alive to make this return trip.  I continue plodding forward.  It feels like I’ve been running forever, and I’ve still got a bit left to go.

Finally, cresting the top of a hill, I see the finish arch ahead!  Finally!  But I don’t dare try to kick; I’d probably fall if I did.  So I coast through the finish.  Yes, todays run had been hell.  But I’ve been through hell before and hell ain’t got nothin’ on me!  It wasn’t pretty, and my beloved running… well today it wasn’t fun.  But I did what I needed to.  I’ve said for the past two years that this ordeal will teach me to be perfectly in tune with my body.  Today was just another tuneup.  If I can get it done when things are tough, I’ll be that much stronger on the brighter days.

I’d looked forward to exploring this course. I’d looked forward to relaxing at the afterparty.   Not today… I’ll need to come back for this race again, on a day when my brain is a bit more functional.  For today, I spent nearly two hours focusing entirely on self.  I made sure every step I took continued my momentum.  Little things we take for granted – today they needed all my attention.  Now that the run was done, it was time for my most critical activity these past two years.  I found a quiet corner of the park and took a nap.

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Where It All Began • Fairfield Half Marathon, Fairfield, CT, USA

After a long day of celebrating with my classmates, I woke with my brain throbbing.  I knew this would likely be an issue.  As usual, I’d avoided alcohol completely, but even so the audible stimulation of the evening had wiped me out.  I’d spend a good chunk of the evening sitting quietly in the parking lot to escape the noise and decompress but even that wasn’t enough.  It had been yet another case of balancing physical health with mental health.  No regrets though: I refuse to allow my injuries to define my life.

On top of that, the weather had done a complete 180°!  Yesterday was hot and humid, like I’m used to in Miami.  Today was chilly and windy.  Suffice it to say that I wasn’t ready for that.  Regardless, for the first time in 20 years (I think) I donned my Prep Cross Country uniform shorts and began to prepare myself for the mental and physical battle ahead.  I have to admit:  I was pretty pumped that I still fit into those bright red running shorts from yesteryear!  To celebrate our 20 years, I’d rock them for another thirteen miles.  While I knew this wasn’t going to be a PR performance today, I did expect to put in a decent time – one at least worthy of a Prep runner!

The Fairfield Half will always have significant meaning for me.  Back in 1995, this had been my first ever half marathon.  That year, I’d gone from unable to complete more than two miles even with a break every half, to feeling confident enough to test myself with 13.1.  I’d went from a sedentary lifestyle, to that of a runner.  Although running had been painful (for as yet unknown reasons), I’d managed pretty well.  I was by no means elite as a freshman, but I was moderately competitive.  So I kept at it.  That June, I ran my heart out at the Fairfield Half.

I’ll never forget that race.  I ran strong.  I ran fast.  I crushed the hills.  I even got my first runners high.  I pushed myself harder than I’d though possible, even vomiting with less than a mile left to go.  But I didn’t stop.  I was on top of the world.  As I hit the gravel running back into the Jennings Beach parking lot, I gave it everything I had… and I got smoked by an old guy.  I finished with a solid 1:47:37, but was frustrated I’d been shown up by ‘grandpa’.  Invincible, untouchable, smart ass teenager… I’d just been put in my place.  I decided that one day *I* would be that grandpa!  In 50 years, I’d be the one sprinting past some too cool for school kid.  Yes… during that one race, running became central to my life.  There’ve been some detours, but that race was a defining moment.

I ran the Fairfield Half every summer while I was in CT, improving every year through my graduation.  In the summer of ’98, I ran the best race of my life:  1:25:34, good enough for the win in the 19 and under age group.  I’d just graduated Prep, was in the best shape of my life, and was ready to take on college.  For the first time in my four year running career, I’d won an individual accolade.  As a team, ƒpXc had been on another level.  Individually, I’d been just OK.  For the first time, I’d excelled!  I was proud of that trophy, even if it was broken within the hour.  That PR would stand until I was nearly twice that age, when I finally beat it in Tartu, Estonia!

This morning, I was simply shooting for a solid 1:35, a pace I should be able to comfortably run.  It didn’t start out well though.  With the ‘cold’ I wasn’t feeling it.  My first couple miles were slow and painful.  I was struggling and wasn’t even running a 7:30 pace.  It was going to be a lonnnnnnnng day.  I had started the race with Vin, and ran those first few miles with him.  Gradually I warmed up and began to feel at least a little bit better.  Just past mile two, we saw the first of our bomb squad (thats what Prep calls its cheering section).  There on the side of the road our buddy Kevin’s wife and baby were cheering us on.  As we ran past, I decided it was time to step it up!  I stripped off my shirt (I hadn’t earned the nickname Naked Boy in high school for nothing) and picked up the pace.  Slight problem:  my old Prep shorts waistband couldn’t hold the shirt.  I turned back, and left my gear with our crew!  And then immediately took on the first hill.

It was like an instant transformation.   Suddenly I was alive.  The pain was still there, but my body flowed smoothly.  My mental game was where it needed to be.  There would be no slowing down from here.  Originally I’d planned to go out moderately strong, survive the early hills, crush the middle miles, survive the back hills and finish strong.  Ohh yeah… and I wanted to make sure I beat all my old teammates!  The new plan involved continuous improvement:  Negative splits – despite the hills.  I caught up with Vin again.   His race strategy had been to take the first half easy, so after a short time running with him, I picked up the pace.  Still no sign of Matt and Kevin, we’d lost them somewhere before the start.

Halfway through the run, channeling his inner Coach Ford Sr., JT was out there on the bike to cheer us along.  HEY NOW PREP!!!!  Dahhhhh!  John, check the shorts!  I got the boost I needed, and picked it up a little more.  A little later on I see him again: how far ahead are the other guys?  Turns out, they’re not.  I’m into the last 5 miles – MR8K to go.  This is where I am strongest.  I just have to hold on through the hills.  I didn’t realize it, but Matt was just a tiny bit behind.  As we approach the toughest hills, Matt and I are side by side, the infamous Torpedo is just ahead.  I know I’m going to falter on the hills, so I accelerate into them.   I’ve got a slight lead as we hit the incline.  I’m left in the dust as we climb.  We hit the peak, and I immediately accelerate, closing the gap that had opened on the hill.  No sooner do I catch up, but the road slopes upward again.  Time for the worst hill of the race.  I take the hill hard, but I suck at the climb… I’m still losing ground.  I maintain that effort level.  When the climbing stops, I start moving.  I’m actually feeling fairly good, and my goal time of 1:35 is in reach if I work these last few miles.  I continue to accelerate.  I hear two random guys saying to each other they aren’t going to let me beat them as I pass.  I laugh to myself.  I’m on fire right now.  The hills are done, I’m feeling strong.  Nobody is passing me these last few miles.  I pick up the pace even more.  We run by Kevin’s family, but I’m so in the zone I don’t notice it until after passing them.  Shortly down the road, we turn left and approach Jennings Beach.  HEY NOW PREP!  A nice strong finish, and right on schedule with 1:35, my tenth Fairfield Half Marathon is in the books.

I’d won the Prep Millennium Division – a solid accomplishment.  Once upon a time, those guys were so far ahead of me, but now it’s my time.  Despite all the drama, now I’m in the best running shape of my life.  I feast on the post race fruit and pizza.  Unfortunately with the weather, it was not a good beach day… still we hung on the beach for a while, new friends and old, to celebrate another great run.  Some things never change.

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20 Years Now • Fairfield Road Races 5K & Fairfield Prep 5K, Fairfield, CT, USA

This weekend trip had a dual purpose:  not only was I here to run another few races, but it was also my 20 year high school reunion.  Man, just saying that makes me sound old!  It was over half my life ago that I roamed the halls of Fairfield Prep,  It has been decades since my teammates blazed through that Wickham Park 5K course to a dominating victory in the CIAC State Open Championship.  My four years at Prep, running for our cross country and track teams, are largely responsible for the man I am today.  It was there that I developed from a depressed and miserable child, gaining the confidence, courage and strength that have carried me so far since.   It was there that I found my faith, my foundation and myself.  I entered those double doors for the first time empty and lonely.  I walked out of them four years later a new man: a ‘man for others’ molded by the values of our Jesuit education.

So much has changed since then, yet so much remains the same.  Gone is my childish innocence:  I’d lived a fairly sheltered life.  Much of the turmoil and strife I’d learned about were only in textbooks; conflicts that seemed only academic… not real.  Now it’s different.  I’ve survived terrorism, battled corruption, and faced some of humanities darkest manifestations.  Yet those four years taught me the most important lesson of all: there is more that unites us, than that divides us.  Although the most powerful displays of that lesson were years in my future, it was here that I first discovered hope for humanity and our future.

In those days, running was central to my life.  Although I didn’t exactly enjoy it for the first ten months, during the summer between my freshman and sophomore year I fell in love.  The freedom of self-propulsion, the physical and psychological benefits of the sport, and the human bonds that it formed… running defined my life and my growth.  I’d lost that passion for a while… but in recent years I’ve picked up where I left off.  Running is once again central to my life.  In some ways, right now, it’s almost all I have left.  So, yes, I was excited to be back.  I was excited to reconnect with old faces and places.  I’m not sure what life will bring in the years that come, but I know the strength and values that my time at Prep developed will guide me through it.  This weekend, I’d celebrate the 20 year roller coaster ride that my life has been in the best way possible: running with some of the best friends I’ve ever had.

A few years back, the folks at JB Sports split the half marathon and 5K to different days.  Soon after the Lucas Challenge was born: Lucas being the Fairfield University mascot.  This year, to increase the chances of ideal racing weather, the race was moved forward two weeks from late June.  I was fired up when I heard that… although not because I cared about the race weather.  More importantly, now race weekend was reunion weekend.  I wasn’t going to be able to fly back to CT twice in June, now I didn’t need to.  Lucas Challenge here I come!  But wait… there’s more.   For the first time this year, Prep decided to host a 5K fun run as part of reunion weekend.  Would it be possible to do both?  The Fairfield Road Races 5K was at Jennings Beach at 8am.  One hour later on campus the Prep run would begin.  Since it was only two miles away… it was possible!  So I challenged my cross country teammates to the first annual “Jesuit Challenge”: dual 5Ks on Saturday and half marathon on Sunday.

Out of my group, Vin was the only other one crazy enough to accept that challenge.  Another younger Prep alum and cross country superstar also joined the fun.  On a very hot and humid Saturday morning, the three of us lined up with the crowd by Jennings Beach ready to take on the first 5K.  This was a good sized race with some solid runners: there was prize money on the line.  I knew I wasn’t going to be running a super fast time in the half (too many hills), so I decided to make this first 5K my hardest push for the weekend.  I’ve been hurting recently, so I knew that a PR wasn’t likely… but I’ll be damned if I wasn’t going to give it a go.  I started off strong.  My first half mile was right on schedule at about 5:40 pace, but I struggled a bit from there, slowing to just over 6 minute pace for the remainder.  With the heat today, I used the water stops to dump some cold water on my head.  It was a short race, so I wasn’t worried about hydration.  As I knew I was running slower than I’d hoped, the time clocks at the mile markers were a bit disheartening but definitely convenient and helped keep me from getting lazy.  20 years ago, my track PR at Prep was 18:15.  In cross country, my best performance was a 19:07.  Today, I’d come in at right around that mark with a 19:04, good enough for second in my age group.

With one down and one to go, Vin and I hopped in the car and drove to Prep (time was a little too tight to jog there).  Here there was a decidedly more relaxed vibe, and a much smaller crowd of about 100 runners and walkers, including a handful of mid 90’s cross country guys and a lot of the current runners.  No bells and whistles, no pressure… just a fun run.  Ready, set… the megaphone horn failed.  OK, let’s try that again.  Ready, set, go!  We were off, immediately starting with a nice uphill.  Did I mention how much I hate hills?  It took me a while to get in my groove, and even when I did I wasn’t going all out for this run.  I’d enjoy it.  This was a nice little tour of campus, allowing me to see just how much had changed in the 20 years I’d been gone.  Some things, like the universities crumby gravel track still remained.  2.9 miles later, ending with another uphill, I hit the finish.  Now the fun part: reconnecting with fellow Prep runners over a nicely catered breakfast.  I’d be spending a lot of time in the quad today: Tonight I’d be back for the 20 year reunion dinner!  Much has has changed since then.  My love of alma mater and running never will!

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So Alive • Cleveland Marathon, Cleveland, OH

I’ve found that life has a way of giving me exactly what I need, even though I often don’t even know it at the time.  Thats why I always treat obstacles and challenges as experiences.  Just like the ups, the downs are a critical part of the adventure called life.  So even though things have been really rough recently, I came to Cleveland confident of one thing: this trip was somehow going to exactly what I needed.

So I arrived in Cleveland and went straight to the expo.  This was race weekend!  Time to feed off that vibe.  Cleveland had a challenge series with races on Saturday and Sunday.  I had my own challenge.  I had hoped to run a small half marathon on Saturday morning a bit south of Cleveland, but for better or worse, it was a bit too far to work out.  On one hand, I was disappointed… but this did mean my legs would be fresher for the main event.  Exactly what I need right?  My real challenge was the marathon.  It was time to focus on that.  I could get another half in next weekend.

When I decided to run Cleveland, I had three basic choices: I could run the half and keep building my numbers for this years half marathon quest.  Or I could step up the mileage and go for the BQ – 3:05 would comfortably get me in, and there was a pace group to guide me.  Finally, I could all out race it, and most likely blow away my full marathon PR.  I know I’m in shape to hit 2:50-2:55.  On a perfect day (course, weather, injuries and so on), I might even be able to pull off the 2:45 GFA time I need to qualify for Berlin and Tokyo.

In Boston, the marathon has always been about the experience.  I’ve never really cared about my time.  Yelling to the crowd, weaving around to high five as many people as possible, plus my attire… these things are not exactly the recipe for a PR.  Cleveland would be a first for me.  It would be my first time racing the marathon.  If all went well, it would earn me that all important BQ.  Prior to being hit two years ago, I had been 100% confident that I could go out and qualify for Boston on any given day.  I didn’t get that chance.  My injuries sidelined that, and it’s only been recently that I’ve been functional enough again to move forward with that.  Still, there was a maybe.  I don’t know what my lingering injuries effects will be on any given day.  And they’ve been bad recently.  So I made the logical choice: I would stick with the 3:05 pace group.  I wouldn’t risk going out too hard, and if all went well I’d even run negative splits.  Worst case, I’d still have time to get in a BQ for 2019

Race morning I woke up to wind and rain.  Great.  Just what I needed!  Well, at least it wasn’t too cold!  I reminded myself that it was less rainy, less windy and less cold than Boston had been a month earlier and jogged down to the start.  Outside the arena, the Cavaliers playoff mantra: “Whatever it takes”… just like my original late 90’s Boston College SuperFan shirt.  Also, exactly what I was going to do today.  I was hurting, but I was confident: I would qualify for Boston on my first attempt.

Before I knew it, we were off!  There were two pacers leading a good dozen of us unicorn chasers.  With a group of this size, and two pacers who could run it comfortably, this was going to be a social run.  I liked that.  For the most part it worked out well.  I just struggled with the climbs.  Four or five miles in, I joked with one of the guys that every time I’d catch back up we’d start climbing again.  I can’t hold a pace uphill.  Definitely something I need to work on.

One things for sure: I was glad to have this group to run with.  I really was hurting, but keeping that 3:05 sign on my radar was the primary goal for the day.  As they ran each mile consistently just a tad over seven minute pace, I always knew exactly how I was doing and where I needed to be.  Other than those early hills, I was staying right on track.  Everything was falling perfectly into place.  The rain had eased up enough that it was barely a mist before stopping completely.  It was actually nice to run through that.  Just like a sprinkler.  The temperature was great for peak bodily performance.  And between the pace group, crowd and on course entertainment, there was just enough energy to keep me moving despite the pain.  While the rock band playing under a bridge was probably great for most of the runners, with my brain state it almost made me melt down.  I can’t control that, but I can accelerate a bit to get out from under that bridge.  Today I was going to accomplish my goal.

Everything flowed perfectly.  The miles passed quickly and somewhat easily.  The conversation saw to that.  Before I knew it, the half marathon course split off.  We were fully committed now!  A few more miles raced by.  The pain started to intensify.  I tried to ignore it at first.  I kept up the conversation and stayed with the group.  The pain stayed with me, and further intensified.   I knew what I had to do: I needed to circle back within myself.  This was an internal battle, and one I’d have to fight myself.  I deliberately dropped back from the group.  Just a bit…

That’s one of the beautiful things about having pacers.  Not only are they guiding and inspiring those running with them to hit their goal, the simple act of holding that sign up provides a perfect moving goal line for runners behind the group.  I had dropped back from the group, but that sign still kept me on pace.  I didn’t need to pay any attention to how fast I was running or anything else.  I could focus all of my energies inwards, and beat that pain.  It didn’t matter how much it hurt.  I knew exactly what I needed to do, and exactly how to compel my mind and body to respond.  There would be no more conversation and high-fiving the crowd.  At least not for a while.  Some of the others in the group periodically looked back “You got this Ken!”.  This is why I love this sport.  We are all in this together!

Externally, and internally…Exactly what I need.  That’s what was going to happen today.  I suffered through the miles.  My brain game carried me, and the sign ahead kept me on pace. I focused within.  That strength would carry me.  This was the longest distance I’d ever raced!  I was ready for it though.  Another energy gel.   Mile 20: forget the wall.  My magic miles are just ahead.  I passed the 21 mile marker and started to pick up the pace.  Physically I was far from depleted and now that I’d started the last MR8K… the pain meant nothing.  I had all the reason I needed to rock those last miles.  Today I was earning my bib for Boston 2019!  Despite the pain, the miles began to flow again.  I caught back up to the group.  It had fragmented.  I tried to inspire the few who’d fallen back to catch the group again with me.   One of the guys still carried the sign, and stayed on pace.  Several of the group stayed with him.  Right at 3:05 was where most of them would finish.  A few who had been running strong picked up the pace a little bit for the last few miles.  I closed the gap with them as well.  As we raced through the city, I hear a radio blaring: Love and Rockets.   “I’m alive, huh, huh, so alive”

Running to earn my BQ… running for Boston… I’d saved some of my best miles for last.  My legs were strong, and I was running for my town.  I’ll carry my cross, I’m on top again.  Yes… despite it all… I’m alive!  So, so alive!  Sprinting across that line, my first 26.2 mile race is in the books. Even though I hadn’t been feeling it today, I’d done exactly what I needed to.  Powered by my own inner strength, and some solid miles this year, with the assist going to a couple great pacers and a handful of my incredible running family… yes… it was a good day!

3:03:33.  An incredible race, a comfortable BQ, and a celebration of that fundamental fact:  I’m alive

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My Team • Sandbar Half Marathon, Englewood, FL, USA

Racing season is pretty much over here in Florida. Summer is rapidly approaching, and with that our temperatures are rising. It’s starting to get HOT! I don’t mind running in the heat though… I actually quite enjoy it. Racing is another matter! The hotter it gets, the slower those times end up being. With that in mind, the inaugural Sandbar Half Marathon, benefitting the local YMCA, was the perfect ‘end of season’ race for Southwest Florida.

The course, an out and back on scenic Manasota Key, is flat and large portions of it are shaded. This makes for a great chance to PR and see just how much you’ve improved over the season. Word to the wise though: if you are planning on chasing down that PR, watch your tangents. Although almost the entire course is on the same street, there are lots of gentle curves in the road. While my GPS put the course right at 13.1, the course was not certified this year. Race organizers, however, did indicate that was something they’d be looking at for next year.  With this being an out and back, you pass each aid station twice, so there was plenty of on course support.

This wasn’t just a fast course though! It was beautiful. Around half the race is run down a beautifully landscaped road with a great tree canopy, while the entire thing is surrounded by spectacular ocean and bay-front homes. You pass directly alongside the beach for a bit on the way out, and again on the way back. Finally, after an almost two mile loop at the south end of the key, you take a quick right and almost immediately are across the line. Then it’s time for relaxation, and celebration at the title sponsor: Sandbar Tiki and Grille. The beer flowed freely, and there was a delicious hot meal waiting, all to the backdrop of beautiful Manasota Key and live music. It was truly an awesome vibe. Even if you aren’t chasing down a PR, this is still a great event!

Yet despite the potential for a fast time, the beauty of the course and the afterparty… none of those were what struck me the most about this race. Instead it was the community. With around 600 athletes racing in both distances, this was quite a crowd for an inaugural event. And those athletes, the organizers, sponsors and local community were all super friendly and supportive of each other. I’ve said a million times that running, and races, bring out all that is good in humanity. This was a perfect example of that.

As I raced down the course, I was pleasantly surprised by how many of the local residents were out on lawn chairs cheering us on. Manasota Key is a very small community, so while there weren’t masses of spectators, the percentage of community engagement was impressive! Rather than get all up in arms about runners bogging down the only road, they embraced this event. The race course was not closed to traffic, yet this small community’s support made that a moot point. I probably only saw a dozen cars during the entire time I was running. Although runners were racing across both sides of the roads, drivers were patient and respectful… clearly this isn’t Miami! It was incredible to see this handful of drivers keeping a significant distance behind runners, inching along at times under 5mph, and waiting patiently until there was wide open road to pass. I never thought I’d say I felt comfortable running a race while sharing the lane with traffic, but thats exactly what happened here. It’s amazing what can be accomplished with mutual respect! While this may not be possible as the race grows (and I suspect it will) for now everything is perfectly balanced.

It wasn’t just the support of the locals that made this a spectacular day though. The entire community here was awesome. On out and backs, I always make it a point to cheer on the runners across the road from me, and I’m never the only one that does. Here it seemed like everybody was doing it! Mutual support of one another as we each pushed to run our own race… together! Then during the awards ceremony, race staff indicated they were short some medals. Last minute signups blew past expectations for total participants (which I think was reasonable considering this was the first year of the race). To make the situation right, they promised runners they’d be ordering and sending out medals to those who didn’t get them. Since there were still a few people out on the course at this point, I knew exactly what I had to do. I went back to the finish line: the last person on the course was just as deserving of getting a medal as I was. I’ve got plenty, waiting a bit for my next wasn’t going to hurt me! As if on cue, she finished a minute later and I handed her her medal! “Congratulations on a job well done!” You know how I said the running community rocks? Well I wasn’t even the only runner who went back to the finish ready to give up my medal. This community of runners, my team, is one I’m quite proud of! The Sandbar Half Marathon was a great event to celebrate a season of successes and support! Congrats to all who were involved this year, and looking forward another great run next year!

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Pure Bliss • USA Beach Running Championship, Cocoa Beach, FL, USA

I absolutely love running barefoot on the beach, so the USA Beach Running Championship has been on my radar for several years. Today it served as the perfect capstone to a month of meaningful races – Boston, OKC Memorial and now this! It has certainly been a fantastic month, and I’m more than happy with my overall performances.

Today I intended to win. When I first heard that there was a barefoot beach half marathon division a few years back, I knew I had to go there and win it! That had my name written all over it. So this morning, when I unsurprisingly woke just a few minutes before my alarm… I was ready! I jogged the three miles to the start of the race, checked in quickly and immediately slipped off my shoes and went out to the beach. It was beautiful! The sun was about to rise, and the dawn glow lit the horizon. Runners were milling about, and volunteers and race staff were scuffling with last minute preparations: You can’t exactly leave the timing mat out on the sand overnight, especially with the race designed to be at the lowest tide! That low tide meant the sand was hard packed, making it much more suitable for fast times, but the wind over the past few days had washed in lots of seaweed and shells. As we prepared for the start, barefoot runners were advised to tread carefully lest we step on something we’d regret. I wasn’t too worried as I’m used to running barefoot.

We lined up to start the race. My friend David, who dominated last year, wasn’t here this year. Maybe, just maybe, I could win the barefoot division and be the first overall finisher. That would be pretty sweet. From previous race results, I knew it was a possibility. But the stars would have to be perfectly aligned. I’d need to run one of my best races ever. Unlikely, but certainly possible. You know I don’t mind the long odds!

I toed the line right near the front and took off. The competition quickly spread out. Running on the sand is a very different workout than road racing, so I wasn’t at all surprised. Two young guys immediately took a comfortable lead, and I was not too far behind in third. There was a bit of a gap behind me. “Not too bad” I thought… 3rd overall and first barefoot. I could live with that! And if I got lucky, as the pain hopefully dulled a few miles in, I could try to work my way up and catch the leaders. Unlikely, but still possible. All the more fun!

We raced down the sand as the sun rose to the east. Those with shoes tended to stay a little further west. I welcomed the water splashing against my feet! The sand here was a bit more challenging than what I’m used to at home, but what I was most concerned with was those shells. As I ran, I tried to avoid them a bit. But I had no concerns about stepping on them when I needed to. With all my beach miles, I’ve toughened up my soles quite a bit! It was worth it to feel the sand between my toes.

The first two miles I was right where I wanted to be, and I felt good. Far from pain free, but I was moving well and definitely enjoying the moment. As I approached the third mile I got a side stitch on my right. Bummer! I tried the breathe out when that foot lands trick, but it wouldn’t go away. I’d have to run through it. I kept breathing out on the right hand side, but that cramp just got worse and I slowed considerably. I heard the crunch of shells as a runner gradually approached. There goes my overall podium, but whew… he had shoes! At this point, I knew I wasn’t going to catch the first two runners unless they completely burnt out. But I WOULD still win the barefoot division!

As he passed me, I tried to hang behind him for a bit but that cramp was too much. My feet were mostly OK, but those shells made things a bit rougher. I knew I’d likely have a blister or two to show for this effort… but not on the main running surfaces. Instead, it was the joints of the toes I worried about. They weren’t used to racing through slightly protruding hard objects.

I had to be careful running at the water line, as every once in a while I was running through ankle deep water as a wave came in.  I had also missed an aid station earlier because the table couldn’t be set up that close to the waterline. It was hot, hydration was necessary. I moved a tad inland as I approached the third water station, grabbed a cup, took it down quickly and attempted to throw the empty in the nearby trash can. Littering a beautiful beach is a very bad thing! Not sure if I made that basket, but at least I was close enough to make the volunteers job easier. Shortly after another runner passed me: I was hurting.

But the pain was meaningless. It was discomfort. It would pass: I would make it! I passed mile six. The halfway turn-around wasn’t too far off. The lead runner, now on his way back flew by! He was a mile ahead, and we were only halfway in. I needed to up my game! The runner up had fallen back a bit, but still seemed out of reach. As I approached the turn, the two who had passed me looped back. Both were in striking distance. I took the turn myself, and made a conscious effort to push the pace. Another barefoot runner was only a couple minutes behind me: If I faltered, I would fail. That barefoot division was mine to lose.

So I stepped it up. I pulled myself back to seven minute range. I knew I could hold that pace. Yes… I’d never raced this distance on the sand or barefoot before, but barefoot beach running and the positive energy of a foot race… how could I not celebrate this fusion of two of my favorite things?! On the bright side, the stitch made it a lot easier not to notice the normal back and leg pain. Left foot, right foot, breathe in, breathe out. Simple. The stitch subsided a bit. My pace increased proportionately. I’m at a solid pace again for a bit and then… revenge of the stitch! My right side was in agony! Left foot, right foot, breathe in, breathe out. I reminded myself that the barefoot division was still mine to lose. Left foot, right foot, breathe in, breathe out. Left foot, right foot, breathe in, breathe out. The stitch subsided just enough… one of the runners who had passed me was in sight.

Now I had a target. I’d catch the two who passed me, and minimize the gap between number two as much as possible. I ran through another patch of shells… so be it. I was gonna have a few blisters anyway. Now I was doing a little bit of weaving as well… the 10K runners had started a bit after the half, and many of them were still out on the course. For the most part it was easy to move around them, but it did make it hard to see how far ahead runner number three was. I caught up to number four. I knew I’d catch that other guy: I still had a few miles to go, and despite the pain I was on a roll. I skipped the last few water stops. Too many people around, and it would have slowed me too much. Gradually my next target came into view. No hesitation! I raced right on by. I hugged the water line, just running right over the shells at this point (I knew I’d have a few blisters either way).

Finally the finish was in sight, with a chute lined with beautiful conch shells. I moved up from the water line just a bit and sprinted through! Mission accomplished: First barefoot AND third overall! Now time for the afterparty! Chilling on the beach, with a backdrop of a Hawaiian band and even some hula dancing… now this is my kind of party. Plenty of food, and some creative drinks. I’m used to seeing post race beer, but mimosas and screwdrivers? Now thats a party!

Now the dilemma for the day: third overall, or first barefoot? Since the results are treated as different races, it had to be one or the other. On international barefoot running day, it was an easy choice for me: Barefoot Beach Running Champion! I even got a bottle of bubbly to celebrate, along with my seahorse finishers medal and conch shell trophy! Next year, perhaps I can earn a tougher choice: first overall, or first barefoot…

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Stronger Together • Oklahoma City Memorial Half Marathon, Oklahoma City, OK, USA

I’ve been running anywhere and everywhere I could this year.  For the most part, it didn’t matter as long as I was running.  Whenever possible I’ve been racing so I could be surrounded by more of the running community I’m proud to call my family.  But only one date was circled on my calendar: that of the Boston Marathon.  That much was non-negotiable.  Come hell or high water, I’d be there.

As April approached, another date got circled: April 29.  I stumbled upon the Oklahoma City Memorial Marathon, and knew immediately this was somewhere I had to be.  Around the five year anniversary of the tragedy that changed me, and the 23 year anniversary of the tragedy there… I would definitely Run to Remember!  Every step I take, every race I run…I have five reasons that I cannot stop:  For Dennis, For Sean, For Krystle, For Lu, For Martin.  Five souls who were taken too soon.  Well that weekend, I’d have 168 more reasons.  That weekend I would honor the 168 lost in the 1995 bombing in Oklahoma City, and the 5 lost nearly 20 years later in Boston.  173 powerful reasons why this would be a most memorable race.

Originally, I’d hoped to run another half the day before in nearby Tulsa.  That one wasn’t meant to be.  Perhaps that was a good thing, as now my focus for the weekend was 100% in OKC.  I wouldn’t just “Run to Remember”… I’d race!  I’d run like the wind to honor their memories!  This one event would exhibit all that is good in humanity:  

The resilience and strength of the individual spirit as athletes of all abilities pushed themselves to their limits

The communal spirit as all came together to honor and remember those lost over 20 years ago

The camaraderie of competitors, volunteers and the greater community who’d come out in support of the athletes and cause

The Oklahoma Standard that drove their healing then, and still caries forward to this day, much like Boston Strong drives my own journey

Everyone of us has strength untold, and together that power only magnifies.  Here it would be on display at both the individual and community levels.  This is the kind of thing we need more of in our world!

So, Saturday around noon I showed up at the Cox Convention Center.  I was pumped.  This was going to be an amazing weekend!  I picked up my bib and ventured into the expo.  I stopped by the National Parks Service booth for a bit, as the great outdoors has been my medication and physical healing these past few years.  Across the way I met some great folks from Willow Brain Harmony and Monk Chiropractic.  I ended up spending over a half hour there for a brain training session.  Like Boston a few weeks ago, I knew I’d be pushing my neurological capacity – my brain is still far from fully healed.  Also like Boston a few weeks ago, this cause it was worth it.  The emotional, spiritual and mental health benefits of this exertion far outweighed the negative physical effects I knew would follow.  This NeurOptimal session seemed like exactly what I needed.  Incredibly, despite the busy external environment, I was able to get some much needed relaxation.  Unsurprisingly I was even more pumped for the race to follow.

I spent the entire afternoon at the expo.  Stopped by to visit with my friends at Roo Sport, and made new friends elsewhere.  Normally, one of the first things I do when I go a new place is type in “Running store” on Google Maps.  It’s an easy way meet some great people who share my passion for running.   With a race expo of this size, it was even easier – everyone was right on site!  Local running stores also tend to be model members of the community – often hosting free or cheap group runs, workouts and coaching and other social and fitness events.  At home in Miami, it’s the iRun Army for me.  Here in Oklahoma City, OK Runner made me feel right at home, a feeling that was reinforced on race day seeing team members celebrate their accomplishments on the course.  I hadn’t planned on it, but I ended up bringing home a new pair of Brooks shoes, as my current ones had covered way too many miles.

I stopped by the “Why We Run” booth and prepared myself an “In Honor of…” bib to wear during the race.  No hesitation: 168 + 5!  I would run for them all!  I was humbled to be featured by the races social media and expo teams!  As the hall closed, I was mentally exhausted… but oh so motivated!  Tomorrow would be an amazing race.  I called it an early night – my brain was fried.

The following morning, two minutes before my alarm, my body woke on its own.  I was ready for this!  As I ran down to the starting line at the Memorial, I knew my injuries were going to be bothering me all day… but I didn’t care.  This was worth it!  I would push myself to the brink for 173 great reasons!  Once there…surrounded by 25,000 others… I could feel the blood coursing through my veins… I could feel the energy.  This was the kind of environment I thrive in.  I feed off that energy, and then reflect it back stronger than before.  This was going to be a great race!

We paused in remembrance for 168 seconds.  In front of the Memorial, nearly three minutes of powerful silence passed for those whom I’d be running for momentarily.  25,000 strong we honored their passing, we honored our flag, and in their memory we began our race!  Despite the pain, I started out exactly where I wanted to be for the first mile or so.  Unfortunately it got much tougher from there.  At the first real hill, my legs went tingly (but not quite numb).  My back flared up… this was going to be a painful run.  Even so, I would not stop.  I had 173 reasons to keep on moving, 173 reasons that were more powerful than any pain!

I had to be smart though: no one race is worth sacrificing a lifetime of running!  I’d balance exactly on that discomfort/destructive line like I’ve done many times before.  I’d still thrive off of the crowd energy and put in a solid performance, but it didn’t look like a PR was going to happen today!  The crowd was impressive.  It was still dark when we started, but they were there cheering us on.  As the sun rose, we raced by the state capitol and a field of flags, through parks and beautiful neighborhoods.  And the city was out there supporting us the whole way.  There were plenty of aid stations stocked with electrolytes, water and gels, and they were teeming with energy!  All the support you could need!  As the forecast had predicted it was warming up fast.  That part didn’t bother me much though.  The hills were what got to me.  I’m used to flat, so although these hills weren’t monstrous, I definitely felt them.  Despite the pain, for 173 reasons I powered up the hills.  The crowd roared.  The support out here was great!  Plenty of high fives and cheering spectators.  Thousands of extremely enthusiastic water station volunteers.  Even a giant blue gorilla and lots of bananas supported us along the way.

As the miles wound down the banners came into sight:  running by 168 of them, each bearing the name of someone who was killed in the bombing.  168 names I didn’t recognize, but all the same… today I ran for them!  I was just a high school kid when it happened.  I remember bits and pieces of it on the news, but over time the world moved on.  Oklahoma City moved forward as well, but would never be the same.  While I will never fully understand their journey (as I wasn’t there), my own experience in Boston many years later gave me a much deeper respect and understanding.  I’ve called it Boston Strong… years earlier they called it the Oklahoma Standard.  You never fully heal from something like this.  Life is forever changed.  But as they did over 20 years ago, I have also chosen: it is not the darkness that will define me, but rather the light.  We are stronger together, and it is in those periods of darkness that we discover the inner strength that often lies dormant within ourselves and our community.  Today, again, that strength was on display.  25,000 of us ran in their memory, and thousands more embraced their role in this event, and the ongoing healing of the community.  Today we were all here helping and healing one another, in remembrance of 168 souls I never had the privilege of meeting, but whose memories I would honor on this day.  For them, and the five we lost in Boston… I powered through.  Down the Oklahoma Standard Stretch, around a few more corners and the finish was in sight.  I gave a bit of a kick, and powered through that finish as Bart Yasso commented about my “man shirt” (AKA no shirt).  For Boston, for OKC, and for the goodness inherent to our human race – today was a beautiful day!

Much like I do in Boston, I stayed in that finish chute for a bit, basking in the energy!  Munched on the type of post race chow I’m used to, and then some… cheeseburgers definitely hit the spot after those miles!  I made sure to collect my finishers shirt, as this will be one that gets a lot of wear.  Next up, a nice relaxing massage!  Yes this was a good day.  My race was done, but the day had just began.  I found my way to the grandstands, it was time to cheer on the thousands still on the course!  I would stay there as long as I could:  My brain felt like it was going to explode, I still struggle with these loud environments.  But sometimes its worth it.  I would spend some time this afternoon reflecting at the memorial and museum, but first I would celebrate the healing, the strength and the love here at the finish line.  I’ve always admired the stories you hear when you ask a runner “why?”.  Today I knew 168 answers to that question, and it was my privilege to cheer on some of those runners as they honored loved ones they lost 23 years ago.  The finish line is such a powerful place.  Seeing the facial expressions as first timers cross that line never gets old.  Cheering as athletes finish their race, relays teams cross together, and sideline support crews go crazy for their loved ones makes my day.  Parents carry their excited children across that line, celebrating the behind the scene sacrifices they’ve made for each other.  A few runners took a fall as they approached… the heat got pretty intense as the afternoon wore on.  But just as the city did 23 years ago, they got back up.  A struggle though it may be, they got to that finish line, on their own strength and surrounded by the strength, support and compassion of their community.  For it is when we struggle most that we learn a very important lesson:  Within all of us lies a hero.  Within all of us lies a strength beyond our wildest dreams.  And while our inner strength is powerful beyond belief… our strength together is immeasurable.