Meatballs and Memories

It's been a while and I apologize to my regular readers...all three of you. including my mother.

First, let's take care of business. I am running 100% again after a slight ankle injury and feel great. No discomfort or pain. I hope the ankle sprain was the last injury and stumbling block I have to face before the mini marathon.

I registered for the Louisville Triple Crown of racing today, finally. That means my first official race is March 3rd, the Anthem 5k. I eat 5ks for breakfast now, but if you asked me three months ago to run 5k, I would have laughed uncontrollably before becoming overcome with nausea. Now, 5k is just a regular weekly workout. I do; however, have a time goal in mind for the race. I would like to run it in 31'30" or less.

I had a great run today. The temperature is finally climbing out of the basement, making the workouts more enjoyable. Some of those days I recently ran, the temperature never topped 20 degrees. When I ran today, the temp outside was around 40 degrees which felt like a heat wave. All in all, it was a good relaxing run. My pace was good and finished strong. I stopped a bit shy of my 45 minute goal due to some wretched side splits that would not go away. I attribute them to my pasta and meatballs I had for lunch.

I made the meatballs on Sunday on a whim. Robin was upstairs taking a nap and the kids were off entertaining themselves. Out of boredom, I looked in the fridge to see what I could conjure. Ground beef, good. On the window seat in the kitchen lay a huge bundle of fresh garlic Robin bought to make garlic-rosemary mashed potatoes. What do you get when you mix garlic and meat? Garlic balls!

My father made the most famous (or infamous) meatballs in our entire family. Everyone agreed, they tasted the best. His secret was loads and loads of garlic. I can remember many a Saturday afternoon, my dad watching the tiny black and white TV tuned to channel 11. The Yankees would be playing a matinee and Dad would listen as he crafted a meal for us. He loved to cook, especially for the people he loved. It's a tradition I've tried to carry on in my family. Saturday and Sunday mornings are my time to feed everyone, just like my father.

So I made classic Don Hering garlic balls. I cooked some in the sauce, and left a handful out just like my Dad always did. My son, Jack, sat at the kitchen island as I stood by the stove, frying up my golf ball sized garlic bombs. As I put the finished meatballs on a paper towel to sop up the excess frying grease, Jack would pilfer a snack and scamper back to his seat. He reminds me of what I was like when I was his age.

You never realize how much influence your parents have on you until you really think. In every way that Sunday afternoon I emulated my father. Not consciously, mind you, but out of habit. I watched him do the very same thing hundreds of times. By the time I started cooking, it was rote. Despite being something of a slob, I also inherited my father's obsessive cleanliness in the kitchen. I never saw a kitchen so spotless as when my father cooked a meal. I try to do the same, although my wife may differ on that opinion.

I think on my father quite often. Many times, when I'm struggling during a run I imagine him encouraging me to continue. He always expressed such pride in his children, in everything we did. I'd like to think he's proud of me now. That on some strange plane of existence he can see what I'm doing and is glad. I hope.

On Saturday, I needed my father to finish a particularly brutal run. When I began my run, the snow just started to fall. I planned to run 10k up and down the rolling hills of Shelby County. Mid way through the run, the snow really started to coming down. But these weren't gentle fluffy snow-poofs falling from the sky. No, this was an angry snow, driven by the wind into my side. At one point I looked down at my pullover and saw the black fleece turned gray. My sweat froze on the outside of the fleece, changing the shade of my warm outer shell.

I finished the run, thanks in part to the imagery I conjured up. "Keep going, keep going", I would hear in my head, the soothing sound of my father's gentle voice.

I kept going.

Goals

In business school we studied goal-setting motivational theory. Sounds fancy, doesn't it? At work we had mandatory goal-setting training to attend. Every year, around January people ask about your New Year's resolutions. Are you sensing a theme here?

Setting goals is an important part of being an ambitious citizen of the world. If you have no goals, nothing to strive for, than you basically are taking up space and using up perfectly good oxygen. I refuse to do either.

So this year I set some goals for myself. The training I received at work articulated that my goals should be SMART. That is:

Specific
Measureable
Attainable
Relevant
Timely

For example, saying I want to climb Mt. Everest this year is not attainable or, arguably, not relevant. Saying I want to complete school is not timely, unless I specify when I plan on finishing. You get the drift.

With that in mind, I have the following goals for 2007:

• Complete my master's degree in June of 2007 - I'm so close I can feel it. I started this two years ago, attending class once a week for 4 hours on Tuesday night while doing lots of homework and reading. Now I'm almost done. What seemed like a major commitment actually passed quickly.
• Run the Derby Mini-Marathon on April 29, 2007 - Duh! Everyone that reads this blog should know this one.
• Run the NYC Marathon on November 4, 2007 - Please see above
• Start an online brokerage account by the end of January, 2007 - This is actually done. I wanted to use some of that financial knowledge I acquired while attaining my MBA. So far, my portfolio is up over 18%. I think I'm doing all right.
• Learn to speak basic Italian by the end of 2007 - Properly pronouncing menu items at Vincenzo's doesn't count. This has always been a goal of mine.
• Learn to fly fish by spring 2007 - I love to fish. It's, quite possible, my favorite hobby. Fly fishing has always held a special romance to me. The graceful casting loops and delicate presentations always looked more like art than science. I actually have a fly-fishing outfit now and am learning how to properly overhead cast and roll cast. Once the weather warms, I'll be on the water.

I think that's all, although more goals and opportunities will present themselves during the course of the year. I'll keep you posted on my progress.

On a different note, my ankle is feeling much better. This weekend, I plan on testing it out again, hopefully, with more encouraging results.

A Fresh Outlook

I ran yesterday and my ankle hurt...bad. I could only finish about 1.67 miles. My pace was good but the pain was too much and I feared further injuring my tender ankle so I stopped.

Downtrodden, I entered my house following the failed attempt. Disgusted, I ripped off my gloves and threw them on the table.

"How did you do?", Robin asked.
"Lousy".

I grabbed my Pepsi bottle filled with ice, sat at the kitchen island, untied my shoes and socks and began to put icy pressure on my left ankle. All the while, negative thoughts bounced in my brain. How could this be happening? I have to get over this injury. I rested an entire week and it feels worse than before.

before I could say anything, Robin entered the room and offered words of consolation.

"You'll complete the mini-marathon. Even of you fall behind in your training program. You may not run the entire distance. You may have to take walk breaks, but you WILL finish".

Just then, my solitary pity party ended. She was right and I knew it. I went upstairs. As I waited for the shower water to warm, I stared at myself in the mirror. Dad always accused me of looking at myself too much in the mirror. Only this time, I wasn't all that impressed.

I got angry, but not at my misfortune. I got angry that I almost allowed this injury to stop my forward progress. This isn't the end. Not unless I decide it is. I could be doing other things. Riding the stationary bike, lifting weights, or using the low-impact elliptical machine while my ankle fully heals. That way, when I return to the road I will be stronger and lighter than ever. With Robin's help, I regained my resolve.

I have several weeks before the mini-marathon and I may be forced to make adjustments to my goal. But one thing is for certain. This injury won't stop me.

Later that morning, in lieu of church, I sat down with my kids to do a bible study. I chose I Corinthians 9:24..."Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize? Run in such a way as to get the prize".

I will not run aimlessly, or fight like a man beating the air. I will beat my body and make it a slave to my will, so I will not be disqualified from the prize.