Connor's a writer!

In Church on Sunday, Connor's Sunbeam class wrote their own little books. Connor wrote about an alligator that was very hungry but ate a pear and felt much better. Does that sound familiar to anyone? It's adapted from one of his favorite books, The Very Hungry Caterpillar by Eric Carle. I think it was clever of him to change the main character. He wrote the story phonetically spelling alligator "aliglr" and hungry "hugre." He drew pictures and everything.

Here's a video clip of him reading me the book. I still can't believe he wrote it all by himself! So adorable!

Bath Paints

Connor loves to paint and do anything artsy fartsy so, it was natural to apply this to the bath tub. A safe medium, you might think, for expressing one's creative yet messy side. Here he is painting cute stuff like this nice cat (in red).

Here's more of his artwork- the sun (yellow), "the outside" or "the earth" (in blue).
Now he's starting to make himself a work of art.

I'm so silly!

Oh man! Now it's gettin' messy. He totally looks like an army guy complete with hat and camouflage!

Have any of you ever heard of the 'blue man group'? Well, here's our version, the 'green boy soloist' (?). Maybe we should just call him the 'Hulk'.

Boy did he have fun. He's been asking to do this again everyday this week. I bought him some other paints because the ones used in the pictures stained my grout, arrrgggghhh!

Table fort

Connor discovered that he could stack up the couch cushions around our coffee table and make a cozy little fort. So cute!

Here he is coming out the "door" of his little house.

Peek-a-boo, I see you!

Daddy's invading his house!

Ahh! There he is.

Now connor looks scared..

Water fun

We had the Shafer kids over yesterday while the parents packed for their move to West Virginia. Connor loved having lots of kids here and I did too. It's usually too quiet here; I'd love to have a houseful of kids and yesterday, I did!

It was a hot day so we turned on our misters and the hose sprinkler. The kids had a blast filling up the trucks, wagons, little wheelbarrow and watering can with water.

Refreshing popsicles hit the spot after all of the water play.

It was fun to have you kids here! We'll really miss your family when you move. We'll have to visit you the next time we're in Maryland.

Tubing on the Salt River

For a fun summer activity, we leaders took all of the young women tubing on the Salt River. This is the week before Girl's Camp so we figured this would be a great pre-camp bonding experience. It was a 4 hour trip out in the hot sun but it definitely didn't disappoint-- the water was cool and refreshing and the views were just gorgeous. The girls did get a little tired and bored near the end but all in all, we had a great time!

I didn't bring my camera with me on the water but here are a few pictures of us after we returned- sunburned and all! Here's most of our group with our tubes.

Carrying our tubes back to the rental shop.

Fountain play

Connor just loves our fountain. Here he is playing with his boat. He loves to steer it around and around. Great summer fun.

A little butterfly

Here's a great new use we've found for these versatile screens. You might recognize these "wings" as sun visors for your car. They're just the perfect fit for our little disguisee. Connor was so cute when he slipped them on and started to "fly" around with them. He said he was a butterfly. I think he looks more like a fly. Especially since earlier he put two red plastic cups up to his eyes. Wouldn't that be a perfect costume?

Doing a little "manuel" labor

When Ammon put this hat on to go outside and dig in the yard today, I couldn't help myself, I said he looked like a Mexican. Mainly because he bought this hat in Mexico 2 years ago when we were there and has rarely worn it since! Good naturedly, though, he responded "si seniorita" and made some comment about his hard work out in the hot sun. It was hot out there today so I'm especially glad I can count on my Ammon to be my laborer whenever I need him.

Mommy's little helper

Here is Connor "helping" mommy make cookies. What this kid really likes to do is eat the dough as soon as it's mixed. We always have fun doing this together, though.



Here's the final product. They're way yummy.
Here's the recipe for anyone that wants to make them:

Excellent fluffy chocolate chip cookies
1 lb butter (4 sticks)
2 c brown sugar
1 1/2 c sugar
2 T vanilla
3 large eggs
6 c flour
1 1/2 tsp salt
1 1/2 tsp baking soda
4 c chocolate chips

Cream butter and sugars then add vanilla and eggs. Beat mixture for 4 minutes (this is key to making them fluffy). Mix dry ingredients and beat into egg mixture. Bake at 350F for 8-10 minutes. The lighter the better so they're still doughy inside. Yum!

Ammon's first MARATHON (and last?)

What on earth goes through someone’s head when they run a marathon?

I’ve often wondered just that. For those of you that dare, please read on.

I warn you this post is long… although mercifully it won’t take you nearly as long as the actual marathon. (Melanie posted a couple of other related tidbits (with pics) that I’ve linked to at the bottom of this post so you don’t have to search them out.)

Race Day!

Point Fermin Park, site of the start and finish. The Marathon runs along the coast most of the course.
http://www.palosverdes.com/Kiwanis/PV%20Course%20map.pdf (follow along if you’d like)

Knowing how my body digests food (ie slowly) I get up at 2am to eat a bowl of cereal and then go back to bed. Thankfully I’m able to sleep again without any problems. I had always had weird runner dreams about marathons like the one where nature called and the lines at the Port-O-Jon were too long (or worse yet, not to be found anywhere…) then there’s that dream I had long ago of starting the marathon and then getting sidetracked and realize later in the dream that I hadn’t finished the race yet… My dream between 2 and 5 that morning was of missing my alarm and waking up too late to run. Thankfully, the morning routine goes off without a hitch. I wake my cousin, Danny, up at 5:30 (his alarm did fail to go off) and we’re off to the starting line by about 6am for the 7am race (Melanie insists on driving so she could get pictures, awww).

Before the race I had fully expected to be in about 25-50th place by the end of the first mile planning to hold a good slow 6:50 pace for the first mile or so. Finally I’m standing on the starting line… I weigh my options, do I risk taking one more trip to the Port-O-Jon (waiting out the hundreds of overhydrated half-marathoners), do I throw all modesty to the wind and try to find a tree, do I risk carrying a bladder full of urine the entire marathon, or do I try the “pee while running” trick I’ve heard about (and practiced once or twice in years past with mixed results)? Decisions, decisions…

I look around for a guy with a racing bib #1 knowing that would be James Maynard the man who had won the marathon 6 of the previous 7 times he’s ran it. I don’t see him. I express to my cousin Danny my best wishes and take my place in the front of the line.

We’re off! The wide road is filled with runners and I hear the stampede of feet all around me but mostly right behind me. I see an oriental guy in a red jersey who takes the lead early and takes it hard; he pounds out the first mile several paces ahead of guys in blue and yellow respectively.

I’m running 5th place at this point about a mile into the marathon

Streaming down the middle of the road which at one point has perfectly spaced palm trees on either side I find myself in about 4th or 5th through much of the first mile. I can tell that this feels a lot faster than my goal and I know all too well that many a race have been ruined in the first mile. I check in with myself, is this too fast am I holding a pace that is going to be impossible to hold? I felt comfortable and kept reminding myself, now don’t get excited, Ammon, treat this just like a training run… I keep pace with a shirtless guy who looks much more relaxed than the yellow T-shirt guy who, although he looks like he means business, he also looks tight as if he’s taking an awkward underhand punch at an invisible punching bag with each pump of his arms.

Mile 1: 6:09
I approach the first mile my watch beeps as it records the split I look at my watch and say aloud “well, so much for a 6:50 pace” I take a couple of strides to pull alongside the shirtless guy. “What kind of pace are you shooting for?” I ask. “About 2:50,” he responds. He and I exchange names and I learn that Kevin has run many marathons but this is his first time running in Palos Verdes. He’s surprised to hear that this is my first marathon and is even more surprised to hear that I’ve made the trip from Tucson . We approach the first water stop (“stop” is a misnomer as I don’t know of many people who actually “stop”). He politely says “I’ll grab this first one” the cup spills to the ground. I take a couple of gulps from mine and offer him the rest.

Courtesy of fotojack.com I bring you a couple of pretty cool shots in the second half of the first mile.
(The shirtless guy in front of me is Kevin with “goo” in hand.)

Here’s my cousin Danny at about the same point about 30 seconds later.
(No, the old guy doesn’t stay ahead of him the whole race, silly…)

Kevin and I suddenly find ourselves surrounded by a massive sound of pounding feet. Blue and red are together stride for stride. Kevin informs me that the blue runner is James Maynard and I remark that he’s looking like he wants to win it this year also; I recall that last year his time of 2:41 beat the 2nd place runner by over 11 minutes. We come closer to yellow who’s still swinging vigorously at his invisible punching bag as we approach the first real turn and the big hill that will follow immediately. Kevin and I pass yellow leading a mass of about 8 runners well behind James who’s pulling away from red. As we round the corner and start up the hill someone says, “well, about here is where people start sprinting.” I reply that that sounds like a very bad idea not sure if he’s joking or not. I move into a comfortable “hill” stride making sure not to overextend myself I’m anticipating the long gradual downhill run that follows.

I try to say something encouraging to red as I pass him and move into 2nd place, he’s taking labored breaths and doesn’t respond; I never expect anyone to respond in a race; some respond, some don’t, no one does when they need every breath. I feel a touch of sadness as I reflect on the times I’ve done too much too early and can relate to the misery that follows. I’m just glad I don’t still have over 24.5 miles to go when running becomes difficult. It feels weird to be in second place, James is now about 60-80 yds. ahead of me. I hear nothing but the sound of my own breath and the pat of distant feet behind me I’m surprised no one tried to stay with me.

Mile 2: 6:26 (12:34 cumulative)
I grab two cups I drink the Gatorade, I pour the water over my head. I round the corner at the top of the hill I just climbed to head out of the only part of the run surrounded by businesses. I notice that the run now runs slightly downhill and I remembered several such inclines and declines when Danny and I drove the course the night before (“remembered” is the key word here, things look very different now that I’m running it).

Mile 3: 7:06 (19:41 cumulative)
I’m still running alone and in a distant second place. James is a good quarter mile ahead and looks like he means business. I let him go convinced that this is now a race for second place… I keep telling myself stay relaxed, run your own race not somebody else’s.

Mile 4: 6:25 (26:05 cumulative)
I try to pick up everything that is handed to me at the water stops. I’m cautious not to eat so much that my digestive system can’t keep up (vomit or diarrhea would really pose some unpleasant and unnecessary setbacks). At one stop they hand me a packet of “goo” a highly sugary energy food common in endurance events like these. I’d never tried the stuff and peal open the top while being mindful of my tempo. I cautiously taste it, it is so sugary that I know I’ll need to have some water to wash it down. I try to tuck the goo into my shorts but only end up squeezing some out all over my hand and clothing it’s sticky, hard to carry and I wonder if it’s worth the bother…

Mile 5: 6:04 (32:10 cumulative)
I consume the goo as I approach the next water stop while wondering about the organizational intelligence at work lacking the insight of putting the goo before the fluids. No room for negativity… I’m surprised to be handed half a banana also; I eat half of it and toss the rest.

James is now completely out of sight and about a half mile ahead; only occasionally do I hear the distant whoop of the police motorcycle who is leading the way. The downhill run continues. As this is largely an “out and back” (with a little loop through rich neighborhoods in the middle) I know that what goes down must go up. I’m getting nervous and hoping that I’m not going too fast. I’m also getting a tad lonely this is too much what my regular training runs are like, alone.

Mile 6: 6:15 (38:24 cumulative)
My hopes for companionship are fulfilled around the 6th mile marker as a guy in a gold singlet comes up to me. He asks me if I finished 2nd place in this marathon last year. I find that he was the third place finisher and remember seeing on the website that he lost 2nd place by only 3 seconds (tough break! Race 26 miles only to get out sprinted by 3 seconds.) We talk for about a minute before he drops back, when I reminded him that it’s easier together he said he was running as fast as he could. Again, I’m running alone…

A couple of minutes later a Hispanic middle-aged fellow strides by me, I learn he is Hector and quite talkative. When he tells me that he’s shooting for a 2:50 I find that I’ve unnecessarily informed him that he is well under that pace when he tells me that he has run between 30 and 40 marathons. Hector strides out several meters ahead of me and I’m now joined by what turns out to be one of Hector’s training partners, José. We chat off and on throughout this mile.

The run is now repetitive rolling hills as we go along the coast. The sun feels warm on my back and I sacrifice some water consumption by pouring it over my head at the next stop in attempts to keep my core temperature low.

Mile 7: 6:38 (45:02 cumulative)

This is a view of what has been on my left throughout the marathon thus far. On my right the traffic is blocked off and police only allow one direction to go at a time. At one point around here I think there must have been 40 cars lined up.

I feel good. I’m keeping a good pace. I’m chatting some Spanish lingo with a couple of brothers. The regular water stops keep me refreshed as the sun heats up.

I’m also feeling something not so pleasant. Apparently the Vaseline I put in my crotch at about 5:30am was insufficient because I can feel the chaffing start. I’m starting to get very nervous. There are few things as bad as chaffing (I’d rather have a pebble in my shoe) much less when there are still just under 19 miles to go. I’ve been on long runs where I’ve chaffed so bad that there are literal abrasions on the skin by the time I’m done. I ask for Vaseline at the next water stop, no luck. In futility I try the ridiculous, I try water, then spit. The stinging only gets worse. My nervousness turns to mild panic…

Mile 8: 6:08 (51:10 cumulative)
I try adjusting my stride a bit so that my legs aren’t rubbing directly on each other. This helps; also, for some reason the chaffing seems to hurt the worst only when I’m going downhill. Incidentally, I guess this is why the area is called “Rolling Hills Estates” because there are, of course, lots of, you know, rolling hills…

José, Hector and I are running within conversation distance of each other and this is helpful. I like their spirit and their sense of humor. Whenever we pass one another we say, “Ándale” (Keep going). The rolling hills continue and I’m wondering if there are any flat parts to this marathon…

Mile 9: 6:24 (57:34 cumulative)
The camaraderie continues, José and I pass Hector for this mile.

Still no Vaseline.

Mile 10: 6:12 (1.03.47 cumulative)
My watch beeps the tenth mile. I’m now at the distance of my regular training run that I would typically do Monday through Friday in Tucson before work. I’m amazed at the time as this is a good 3 minutes faster than any of my recent training runs, and I feel great. “Ten more miles,” José says. “That’s when the real race starts.” Between the two of them they have over 70 marathons and this is the phrase that I keep hearing over and over: You can divide the marathon into two roughly equal halves, the first 20 miles and the last 6.2. I think back on my training run of two weeks prior (where I ran 21.2, see blog post and pictures) it was quite a bit slower than the pace we are now going and it was a tough run… I pray silently that I’m in tune well enough with my body to not completely slow down at the end when I’m facing hills, exhaustion, depletion, likely wind, and possibly unbearable chaffing during the “second half.”

Hector Lopez later on in the race keeping his same relaxed enviable stride…

José Ortiz running relaxed and ahead of me at this point.

(I spent most of the race looking at the back of his head).

Mile 11: 5:52 (1:09:38 cumulative)
Sub 6 minutes?!? Unreal! This was not a downhill stretch either. The slow gradual hills have continued throughout the last couple of miles as the three of us round the corner into the many turns of the neighborhoods. Hector and José are behind me.

Still no Vaseline. I’m beginning to give up hope. I’ve asked at every water stop over the last 4 miles and some of them respond as if to say “what on earth would you need that for?”

Mile 12: 5:51 (1:15:30 cumulative)
Hector and José gradually pass me as we proceed down one long neighborhood drive. I stay right with them.

At the next water stop I ask once again for Vaseline and a woman tells me she’ll have “ointment” for me when we’re on the way back. Finally!

As we approach the thirteenth mile I see something familiar up ahead. James Maynard’s blue tanktop that I lost sight of almost an hour before is now slowly creeping back to Hector, José, and me.

Mile 13: 6:03 (1:21:33 cumulative) Half-marathon time 1:22:11 (plus or minus 10 seconds)
I try to watch for my half-marathon time exactly the above time is my best guess. I feel satisfied regardless as this time is only about 2 minutes off the time I wanted to shoot for in my first real half-marathon.

Seeing James slowly creep back towards us leads me to wonder whether we are going too fast or not. After all, neither Hector nor José have run this course before, I tell myself and begin to doubt whether their vast cumulative marathon experience is sufficient to anticipate what lies ahead.

Mile 14: 6:22 (1:27:55 cumulative)
As we approach the turnaround point and look forward to a rather steep downhill .5 mile or so Hector takes the lead, then José passes James. As I approach James Maynard I ask him “so is this about normal for you?” “No,” he responds, “I’m having a terrible day; this is the most I’ve run in about a year.” Then he said, “it looks like you guys are on pace for about a 2:48.” I encourage him to do his best and catch up to José just before the turnaround.

Mile 15: 5:50 (1:33:45 cumulative)
Enjoying the downhill stretch after the turnaround I’m able to see that the three of us have opened up a sizable lead over the other runners. It’s almost a full minute before we pass any runners (except James). I see Kevin (who I ran the first couple of miles with) in the distance just as we turn into a neighborhood side street and proceed with yet another steeper-than-comfortable uphill climb.

I pass José and am now running close enough to the motorcycle to smell its exhaust for the first time all race (I guess that’s one key drawback for running in first place). Maybe that’s what got to James, I wonder, 13 miles of huffing exhaust can’t be that healthy.

As we approach the 16th mile 3 things happen all within a couple of minutes of each other that give me added encouragement. (1) As we pass one house on that uphill climb I distinctly hear the “Rocky” theme song blaring from speakers. Great music! (Even for the 7.5 seconds that I was able to hear it). (2) Danny shouts, “go, Ammon” just as I approach the water stop where (3) the woman slaps some Vaseline into my hand. I sheepishly say “I need more” she compassionately runs after me saying “I think I can catch you” and catches up to me within about 10 seconds squeezing more than enough Vaseline onto my hand. I thank her and jokingly say, “now I need water” both she and José laugh as he says “oh, me too.”

Mile 16: 6:11 (1:39:56 cumulative)
José and I stride together throughout the mile in virtual silence. Hector pulls ahead. I ask José if he’s going to stay up with him. “Not yet, it’s still too early to push,” he replies. Throughout the race José would periodically praise Hector’s strong mind, I could also see that he had the type of relaxation in his upper body that I’ve always envied.

Mile 17: 6:09 (1:46:04 cumulative)
Hector increases his lead. José pulls ahead about 20 meters.

Mile 18: 5:58 (1:52:02)
This is my 4th sub 6 minute mile and much of it was uphill, I feel very grateful that at very least I’ve made it this far feeling this good. At one point I look behind me to see nobody at all…

Mile 19: 6:26 (1:58:28)
Hector now has a very sizable lead and I again feel like this is a race for second place, though very different from what I had previously anticipated. I pass José and he passes me right back within moments. “!Ándale!”

Up ahead I see a mass of people jogging and walking. Oh this must be the half-marathon crowd. Although they started their race half an hour later, and only covered half the distance, there were some who were only approaching the halfway point.

I ask for Gatorade at the next water stop. Out. Nothing but water. I’m beginning to get a bad feeling about what this might mean… The sun is hot, I’m grateful there is water.

Mile 20: 5:57 (2:04:25)
No more conversation; my communication with José is reduced to “Ándale, José/Ammon.” We dodge half-marathoners left and right.

Mile 21: 6:41 (2:11:06)
I hold José steady between 15 and 25 meters ahead of me. We’re starting into the uphill stretch. I try to follow him wherever he goes so as to stay focused.

Mile 22: 7:09 (2:18:15)
I’m now in completely uncharted territory. I’m now running farther than I ever have in my entire life in one continuous stretch. I’m glad the “second half” of the marathon goes quicker than the first. I see signs of exhaustion in José, although he is holding a consistent tempo his cadence seems much more labored. I feel similarly.

The wind is blowing in my face, but the temperature still feels very hot. It’s a rather uncomfortable uphill climb, I want to stop. No Gatorade, only water. My following distance behind José holds steady. The encouragement of the half-marathoners is nice, many of them clap and cheer (mostly the ones that are walking).

Mile 23: 7:01 (2:25:16)
I have never wanted to stop running more than I do at this very moment. I am breathing very hard. I find it difficult to do simple math in my head. Let’s see, 26.2 miles in a marathon, I’ve just completed 23 miles so just over 2 to go… Oops! I realize my arithmetical error as I approach the next mile mark. I remember the steep uphill part that would be up ahead (which is now the steep downhill part just over a mile from the finish). The promise of that downhill is tantalizing and adds to the agony.

Mile 24: 7:08 (2:32:24)
Please, God, let there be some end to this hill. I hurt, I hurt, I hurt. I round the corner, and look ahead in hopes of seeing the end, only to see more uphill slope to the road riddled with half-marathoners and without the promise of Gatorade. I want to cry.

My breaths become ragged as I see I’m clearly in oxygen debt. There is a very brief downhill jut to the road and I catch José in a few long strides. I manage an “ándale, José” he returns the encouragement. Hector is nowhere in sight. I expect José to pass me again, he doesn’t. I make one mathematical mash-up after another never getting it right the first time. It’s as if all higher functioning of my brain has been reduced to “Forrest Gump-like” intellect, or worse, at least he knew when to stop…

I make it back to the commercial part of the run, finish off the last of the hill of my nightmares, and begin sailing down the steep slope in a strident “heaven” although the finish is still about 2 miles away it feels like it’s right around the corner.

I hear my watch beep that there is a “weak GPS signal” I know that with the change in pace and with the downhill slope it will possibly lead to an inaccurate reading at the mile mark…

Mile 25: 5:15 inaccurate? (2:37:44 cumulative)
I don’t care much about the likely inaccurate reading of the watch. I make one more mathematical error thinking I have just over 1 mile left when I really have just over 2 miles remaining… Oops, how embarrassing…

I have 2 things on my mind: (1) try to stay ahead of José; I know that if he passes me now I won’t have anything left with which to catch him; (2) just finish the darn thing doing my absolute best wherever I finish up place-wise…

I finish the downhill run and notice for the first time that there is a slight uphill slope to the road that approaches the finish.

My breathing turns from labored to haggard. With less than a mile to go and pushing it as hard as I dare my breathing all comes out in a weird wild animal sound. It’s kind of like, “Whoo, Hee, Hee, Whoo, Hee, Hee, Hee, Whoo, Whoo…” Sometimes there’s more whooing and less heeing, but you get the idea that I probably sounded about like a monkey practicing Lamaze breathing.

I am apparently slowing somewhat. I look more like a speed walker in this picture.

Here’s a picture of Danny at about the same point forty minutes later.

Mile 26: 6:56 (2:44:40)
One thought at this point… Where on earth is the finish line? I begin to wonder where they might have moved it to… I fully expect to see José blow by me at any second. All of a sudden I see the finish. I try to sprint towards knowing the sooner I cross it the sooner I can end this madness. I think my body calls it quits at this point, this is my slowest moving point of the race…

Mile 26.2:* 4:00 (2:48:41) I’m done! The agony is over!!

Check out the results here! http://results.active.com/pages/displayNonGru.jsp?pubID=3&rsID=63374
(You’ll notice they had me at 2:48:39 but what are 2 seconds across 26 miles, anyway, right? When I tell people I ran a marathon in 2:48 not one person has asked me “and how many seconds?”)

*(What should have been the last .2 ended up being .5 according to my GPS watch, Danny’s watch also had it at least .1 mile long, that’s probably more accurate).

After the finish
I was escorted to a medical tent where I spent the next hour or so under their supervision for not getting enough electrolytes in me. I’ve “crashed” (sometimes literally “crashing” with the ground) before in shorter races in college. I couldn’t see straight or walk straight. This time I was hooked up to machines as I drank and drank. Since I was the first to cross the finish line in this condition they really gave me the king’s treatment. I really felt so grateful as they poured water over me to get my core temperature down, monitored my heartrate (still in the 160s 10 minutes after the race – really high), oxygen levels, blood pressure (80/40 – really low), and at one point also my blood sugar levels (I don’t know what these measured out to be but they kept giving me Gatorade after this—and none beforehand, so I guess blood sugar was low too).

I spent some time chatting with Hector after he was more or less recovered. As it turned out, Hector finished almost 5 minutes ahead of me and his obvious stamina for these things inspired me that I too might be able to walk a few minutes following a marathon if I ran 40 or more of them… We’ll see if that ever happens, this HURT pretty bad and I think my body rebelled on me.

Danny finished first in his age group doing at age 18 what I would put off until age 30. That kid's got guts (incidentally he just got his mission call to Ventura California just a few dozen miles north of this marathon). Danny was obviously hurting but still on his feet the picture above says it all...

As I sat in the medical tent chating and recovering I also wanted to talk to talk to Jose, reconnect following the race, and find out how he had held up during (and following) the marathon. Hector later informed me, “he’s mad at you that you were joking around the whole way and then finish almost a minute ahead of him. He didn’t think you had your head enough in the race to do that.” Regardless we eventually spoke at length about it and we all exchanged contact information so that I have some running partners whenever I’m in L.A. again.

MORE CRAZINESS

1) Pictures and Melanie’s view of my post marathon blues can be found here (the title says it all):

http://larsenmomentsthattakeyourbreathaway.blogspot.com/2008/05/running-out-of-gatorade-causes-problems.html

2) Click here to see me walk with a cane, awards, etc:

http://larsenmomentsthattakeyourbreathaway.blogspot.com/2008/05/post-race-recovery-and-awards.html

3) In case you missed it, here’s a post of the 21-mile run I did 2 weeks before the marathon:

http://larsenmomentsthattakeyourbreathaway.blogspot.com/2008/05/ammons-training-for-his-first-marathon.html