Nugget #37

So last weeks blog was about the joys of training for the Boston Marathon here in Buffalo, NY during a typicaal winter.  That happened to be written just before the 2004 Boston, and what transpired at that year's Boston sometimes just seems so normal for us long suffering Buffalonians.  Read on:

That summer feeling!

By Bill Donnelly

When first we met, I was writing about the joys of training through a particularly cold Buffalo Winter with friends who were planning to run a spring marathon. Most were preparing for the Boston Marathon, which was held on Monday, April 19.

Wouldn’t you know it, after training in all that miserable freezing weather, the officials in charge of the Boston Marathon apparently struck a deal with the Devil himself, and imported excess heat from the nether regions of Hades. Just for good measure, old Lucifer threw in strong winds that came straight out of all the pizza ovens in Buffalo. Wow, what a scorcher that Monday turned into!

Fortunately for me, I wasn’t running in this year’s race, but I was there to cheer on my friends, and to share with them in their success. I also wanted to enjoy a few barely-malt beverages while all of them were hydrating on water and Gatorade.

At the 1976 Boston Marathon the temperature was 96 degrees at the start, and that race was called “the run for the hoses” for obvious reasons. There was a sea breeze that year, so the last few miles were run in much cooler 60 degree temperatures, but of course the damage was already done. About 40% of those runners did not finish. This year it was 83 at the beginning, got as high as 87, and was still 85 degrees at the finish line. The strong hot tail wind just made things worse.

As I waited at the 25 mile mark by Fenway Park, I quickly realized I wouldn’t see any of my friends come by in the times they had hoped to run. What, you ask, tipped me off besides the heat and my amazing powers of reasoning? The Kenyans, those bird-like creatures from the hot continent who had dominated Boston for fifteen years, were struggling mightily. What chance did the penguin-like creatures from the cold planet of Buffalo have? As most people know, the city of Buffalo was not named after the beasts of the plains, but rather it was the Seneca Indians who named the area with the word that meant to them “Gosh, I wish we could move to Miami for the winter!”

When the crowds began to pass me, I had trouble picking everyone out. I finally spotted Tom Appenheimer at 3:40 into the race with a mile to go. He is much faster than that. Dan Loncto, a potential three hour marathoner came by at 3:50, and Diane McGuire came by with Bob Honan on pace for a 4:23 marathon, over 40 minutes behind what they were capable of. Rhea Tard’s time of 4:28 was just behind her sister-in-law Leah, and they were both behind Leah’s brother and Rhea’s Husband, Must (a Scandinavian name, I believe).

A few runners such as Fred Lew, Jennifer Hulme, Heather Patterson, Maureen LaChiusa, and Pattie Paul could feel good about their run as they were all within a half hour of what they had hoped to do. Then there were those such as Heather’s husband, Kevin, who finished, but ended up in the medical tent with an IV in his arm for two hours. The thing all these runners had in common was that they were all victorious just for finishing.

Perhaps the best performance of the day belonged to Dick Sullivan, the 75 year old Founder of the Belle Watling AC, and who was running his 29^th Boston Marathon. It is said that when he ran his first, the official starter was Paul Revere. I’m not sure that this is true, but it was away back in 1973 that he first toed the starting line for Boston. Having run 28 straight Bostons, he had run his last in 2000. 

He qualified for this year’s race with a 4:45 last May. I must say I was a bit worried about him as the other runners staggered past me. I shouldn’t have worried. I didn’t see him go by, but when next I saw him, he was smiling to beat the band. He broke five hours by a few seconds and he was feeling pretty darn good. With Sully, it was the old Irish saying: “May the road rise up to meet your feet, and may you reach the finish line before the Devil knows you ran.” Well, it’s something like that.

Nugget #36

I wrote the following back in 2004 just before the Boston Marathon, which I did not run, but which my wife, Diane, did.  Next nugget will be the results of that race.  Nothing like winter marathon training in Buffalo.

The Joys of Winter Marathon Training

By Bill Donnelly

            Spring is in the air and runners by the boatload are out enjoying the warm breeze and sunshine upon their faces.  If you happen to be out and about in the city of Buffalo on Sunday, May 30, you may see hundreds of runners challenging themselves as they try to finish all 26.2 miles of the Buffalo Marathon.  As I write this, many of my friends are poised to run the same distance in Boston on Monday, April 19 in the world famous Boston Marathon.  And many of you may think to yourself, what crazy people, running that far at once, what an accomplishment!  You don’t know the half of it.

            Just to get to the point of being able to complete a spring marathon such as these two, one has to put in many months and many more miles of training just to reach that goal.  Tough for anyone, but I think even tougher for Buffalonians than for most other runners.  As I have been training with many friends for these races, and as a matter of fact, I may run the Buffalo Marathon, I know the hardships they all faced to get there.  Now I’m going to try to convey to you what it takes to run a springtime marathon, just in case you ever might think of doing one, or at least to give you a better understanding as to what these amazing, courageous, and idiotic people go through. 

            Training through a Buffalo winter?  Running most every day, going out in sub-zero weather at eight o’clock in the morning (which means getting up by six) to run sixteen or more miles into the wind and snow, with poor footing because it snowed six inches the night before, and gee whiz, the Buffalo snowplows haven’t quite gotten around to clearing the streets this Sunday morning when most people are sleeping in!  But let me tell you about the joys of running, as there must be some, for most of these runners have done it many times before, and will assuredly continue to train for spring marathons.

            Dick Sullivan, the 75 year old Founder of the Belle Watling A.C. running club, will be running his 29^th Boston Marathon this year.  His teammate Jack Meegan will be doing his 25^th Boston.  The list goes on.  I’ve run seven Bostons, starting back in 1974, taking a break after 1979, but for some reason getting back into it so that I ran Boston the last three years.  I’m not running this year, but I’ve been training with many friends who are.  What makes us do it?  Surely not Buffalo’s winter wonderland.  Or is it?

            Let me explain a bit about the running boom before I go on.  Back in the Day, or during the first running boom during the 1970s, most runners were marathoners, and we were extremely competitive, running 100 mile weeks even during the winter.  My first Boston in 1974 had 1700 runners, which was considered a lot then. My best time of 2:34 in Boston in 1975 placed me 181st out of 2000 runners.  Last year there were 17,000 runners, and a time of 2:34 would have been in the top 100, and that is true of the last five Boston Marathons.  There are way more people running marathons now, and plenty are darned competitive, but more are in it for a healthier lifestyle kind of thing.  If training in a Buffalo winter can be called healthy.

            Back in the 1970s, we pretty much just ran the miles, getting in speed when a group of us got together, and the testosterone took over and we were soon flying.  This was pretty much every day.  I can say testosterone because there were very few women running back then, locally you could count them on one hand.  Now the figures are pretty even, and I say, viva la figures.  Now every one runs more like 40 to 50 mile weeks, but usually using a training method much smarter then we used to use.  Testosterone just aint all that great!

            So let’s finally get to the winter training that we do today.  I’m just talking marathons since I’m still crazy enough to keep running them.  Today there are so many more runners who go in for the shorter distances, and I say more power to them.  And yes, they too train through the Buffalo winter, just not as many miles.  Now a few people do some of there training on a treadmill, but for a imagination-impaired klutz like me, it’s just too boring, and being a klutz, I’m deathly afraid of a misstep, which often results in one flying off the back of said treadmill and landing face-first into the back wall.  Happened to me the second time (and last time) I used this terrible invention. 

            Others like to run indoors on tracks like the one at the Flickinger Center at ECC downtown.  Now this provides a nice warm place to run if you don’t mind keeping track of the laps, which are nine per mile.  Not bad if running only two or three miles, but try getting up in the miles, you will get dizzy, confused, and nauseous.  Take the case of the two runners who last winter ran 21 miles together up there.  I won’t name names, but when my brother Tom and his girlfriend Julie Doell ran those 189 laps, they were not right in the head for months.  Now that I think of it, they’re still not!

            So anyway, nowadays I train with a group through Fleet Feet, the running store on

Elmwood Ave.

  It’s owned by my old friend from days of running together for Buffalo State, Dan Loncto, and he’s been putting on this training program for about three years.  He uses University of Buffalo track coach Vicki Mitchell, who is an excellent runner in her own right.  She puts together an amazingly comprehensive program, taking into account a person’s ability, experience, and the marathon they are training for.  The program has grown each half year (they do it for fall marathons too, and training through a Buffalo summer is a whole different article) and the crowd she has to work with this time around is 110 nuts, er, runners.  Quite a task for the coach, but we have to do the workouts.

            We get together each Sunday at eight in the morning for the long runs, and many get together mid-week for the speed work.  According to the Buffalo News Runner of the Year race schedule, the racing season ends with the Turkey Trot on Thanksgiving Day (the oldest continuously run race in North America) and starts with the Shamrock run in early March.  We marathoners must keep up our mileage throughout this period.  Through December we try to keep running between 35 and 45 miles, not tough through that warm month of December.  But then comes January and the training program starts, and this winter, as you Buffalonians know, was very cold.  Yow!

            Again, I won’t name names, so I will give my running partners fictitious names, ones that fit their personality and mentality.  I ran with my posse of one guy, Rufus Leaking, and the sisters Leah and Rhea Tard., and newcomer Warren Pease.  That first Sunday, January 4th, we ran 8.3 miles, giving me 42 miles for the week.  We built from there, hitting ten miles in zero degrees wind-chill the next week, and 10.5 in snow and cold the next.  On January 25th, the sun was out and there was little wind, as we ran 12 miles on the hills of Chestnut Ridge.  Oh, did I mention it was -8 degrees when we started.  But that sun was wonderful.

            Now it’s getting colder and I ran 52 miles for the next week, and our Wed. speed workouts are ten miles or more in horrific conditions.  On February 8th we ran 14 miles in 10 degree weather, and then came our first race of the year, a Boston tune-up out in Lockport.  It is a ten mile race in the area the Seneca Indians used to call Na-ga-winda-inna-facea-alla-wayga, which simply translated means “one heck of a cold and windy day if it’s early February.”  It was chilly, with a good deal of wind, but the worst part is the finish.  Whoever planned this course thought it would be funny to have a long, steep hill right before the finish!  Ha Ha guys, we get the joke, now could you please get rid of the hill!   Now we are building up the mileage, as the next week the Fleet Feet group ran 17 miles in the cold and snowy wind.  The next Sunday, which happened to be February 29, it was sunny and warm, which meant it was above 32 degrees, and we ran another 17 miles, getting 45 for the week.  Now we get to the Shamrock Run, an 8 K, or basically 5 mile race with one heck of a party afterwards.  For those who could, it was on to Chestnut Ridge for 18 the next day.  I must say, the Irish in me got the better of me, and I couldn’t quite make it to the Ridge.  Eight o’clock came too early that day!

            Now we are getting serious, running sixteen the next weekend, but mostly at marathon pace, which in laymen’s terms means fast.  Then the crew decided to run at Chestnut Ridge on March 21st at noon, to get used to hills, since Boston has many hills, at noon since the Boston Marathon starts at noon.  Since it was late March, the weather should be ok for running 20 miles.  Not!  It was 20 degrees and almost a blizzard out there, one of the toughest runs any of them ever did.  Unfortunately, I was stuck out in San Diego, Calf. that day, running in shorts and a tee-shirt.  Darn it to Heck!  I should have sent them a post card.

            Finally getting there, the last tune-up for some of the runners, the Around the Bay race in Hamilton, Ontario.  Just 30 K, or 18.6 miles, with one hell of a hill right near the end.  Must have been designed by those same witty people who planned the Lockport ten miler.  So after three months of running 40 or 50 plus miles a week in horrendously tough, freezing conditions, it’s time to start winding down for the Boston Marathon.  Now to cut back the miles and rest up to get mentally ready to run the 26.2 miles, which is all most spectators will see you do.  But we know better.           

           

           

              

               

Nugget # 35

Ah, it's good to be done with traveling for a good long time.  Two short (short in days away, not distance) trips on airlines with stops in Chicago, and three out of four travel days involved long delays.  Here in Buffalo we expect delays when we travel in the winter, but not in May and June.  Yet the delays were weather related, so who says climate change isn't happening.  Anyway, here's a short piece I wrote back in 2004 about a friend of mine who was doing a few pieces for the local NPR station.  Oh yeah, Rich did finish the marathon, and many races since.

When the “FOG” rolled in

By Bill Donnelly

Anytime you see an ad for a fitness center, all they show you are people working out who have bodies to die for. Go to see a movie or watch a television show, and it’s likely to be more of the same. Magazines usually only make matters worse, more pictures of people who look absolutely like no one any of us have ever known.

I hang out with runners who put in 40 plus miles a week, and I know no one who has a perfect body, at least the type of body the media bombards us with constantly. That is, no one other than my girlfriend, Diane. Figured I better slip that in just in case she reads this article.

It is no wonder this country spends so much money on losing weight through diet programs and diet pills and diet whatever. But let’s face it; few people will ever reach the “Ideal” body, and how many have tried losing weight just to gain it all back, and then some. It takes exercise also to keep that weight off! It’s just that a lot of people are too intimidated to get out there to start a workout program when so many around them who are working out are already fit. And it takes a lot of effort to stick with it to reach your goal.

Back on a Wednesday evening in the early spring, or as it can be around here, the late winter, I started to run with the Fleet Feet training group. We get together on these evenings just to share in the misery of the cold snowy run, or help to each other through a speed workout. One guy really stood out before the run, because he was big. I don’t mean tall, or big boned, or famous, or important, or, well, he was fat!

The guy just didn’t fit in, but I gave him credit for trying, and I gave him a couple weeks, maybe three of showing up. Well, he kept showing up, and if I missed a run or two, he’d ask me where I had been. Heck, I hadn’t even asked his name for a while, figuring I wouldn’t know him long.

My bad! Finally, after a couple months, as we were finishing a run, I asked him his name, and how much he was running besides on Wednesdays. First off, he was running a lot more than I expected. Second, his name was Rich Hubbard. The guy was hanging in, and I could see he was getting into it.

Rich is still running, and as I write this, he has gone from 260 pounds (see, I said he was big) to under 230. Still large, but he’s working on it, and now he is training to run the Casino Niagara Marathon on October 24 of this year. And he is doing it wisely, running with the Fleet Feet marathon training group, and not over training too quickly.

Turns out Rich has been doing a series of commentaries on WBFO, 88.7 on your dial, and explaining his motivation. He has done two of them, and he plans a final one after he runs the marathon. He calls them the FOG Chronicles.

Let me explain. Rich is a husband, father, self-described computer geek who teaches computers at ITT. He is also all of 44 years old. Oh yeah, did I mention that he is (or was) big. Being the geek, he needed a three letter acronym for his title. Thus FOG, for “Fat, Old Guy.” Being 56 myself, and since I do not think of myself as being old, I think he should have gone with “Young And Big And-Definitely A Bodacious And-Delightful Orator.” Yeah, the YABA-DABA-DO Chronicles would be better, but that’s just me.

I have become quite impressed with Rich Hubbard. He is always there, grinding out the miles, and getting faster. He has run some races, and he keeps showing improvement. He has come to enjoy running, and the friends he has made. He has come to enjoy how much better he feels.

Come the Casino Niagara Marathon, which I plan on running also, I truly expect Rich to finish. Whatever the results of it for either of us, I do expect to see Rich soon after at another Wednesday Fleet Feet workout. And I look forward to listening to his next installment of the FOG Chronicles. 

He shows what one can do when one sets goals that are reasonable. He may never look like any of the people we see in the ads for fitness centers, but he will look and FEEL a whole lot better!

Nugget #34

Been away for a bit, and will be gone again next week, so here's a tasty nugget for you for now.  This is just a short piece I wrote about a Belle Watling road trip to Utica for their 15K a few years ago.  This was when we ran the Boilermaker in 2004, and the article was written for a local sports paper called "Sports and Leisure Magazine".  It was therefore written tongue in cheek, and everything had a double meaning as to what happened.  Lets just say, without giving everything away, our behavior at the meal the night before really ticked off the people next to us, and they refussed to leave a tip (not the waiters fault, so we provided the tip, plus the staff and other patrons were on our side), and the person removing a barricade the next morning was one of ours.  I haven't been able to run the Boilermaker in a few years, but I am looking forward to doing this wonderful race once again next month.

A Belle Watling road trip

By Bill Donnelly

One of the best things about running is all the new friends you make, and the adventures you can have with them. I am a member of the Belle Watling AC, one of the oldest running clubs in Buffalo. Due to the many characters in this running club, we tend to have had many wonderful adventures over the years.

The road trips are often the best. We find a race we want to do that is far enough away we must spend a night or two in a motel. Look out world! Such a road trip took place this past July 10^th when we traveled to Utica, NY to run in the 27^th running of the Boilermaker.

A little background on the Boilermaker might be in order. First run in 1978, this 15K race starts at a factory that used to make boilers, and winds up and down and through Utica and finishes at the Saranac Brewery (originally the Utica Club Brewery). The first race had a few hundred runners, but now it gets in excess of 10,000, and most are running for the free beer one gets at the finish.

The Belle Watlings, some who have done almost all 27 Boilermakers, met at ten the morning of July 10, a Saturday. Ten of us caravanned straight towards Utica, stopping for a picnic lunch. Once we checked in, it was on to the expo to get our numbers and meet with old friends from past races.

Now it was time to start hydrating. It was on to the old watering hole, McGill’s, where we loaded up on barley-malt beverages, the hydrating drink of choice for the Watlings. Then it was on to Grimaldi’s, for carbo-loading and much more hydrating. This is where the adventure really gets fun, as we were seeing many old friends, but making so many new ones.

We were having one of our typical dinners with Richard Sullivan, the Founder, at the head of the table, presiding over the eleven other diners. His brother Ted entertained with a welcoming speech and the Bennett High School cheer. Jack O’Sullivan and Sandy Bueme made sure the whole table got liquid refreshment, while everyone enjoyed the great food.

Then, just as we were about to leave, The group at the table next to us let us know in no uncertain terms just how much they enjoyed sharing the evening with us. There was talk of the next days race, finger-pointing as to who was looking good, and we even got to the point where we came close to kissing each other on the cheeks. Fortunately it didn’t go there, but the father of their clan was never at a loss for words in describing the time we shared. He may have been from the old country, for I did not understand all the words he used.

Before we parted ways in the parking lot, we found our new friends were short of money, and had but $5 extra to leave as a tip on a $300 bill. We could not let them leave looking like such cheapskates, so we chipped in $30 so they would feel better, and their waitress would be able to pay her rent. Then it was back to the motel, for the race was starting at 8AM, so to bed we made haste.

The morning of the race was uneventful, other than a woman we spotted who was protesting the way President Bush had given up running for mountain biking. Crazy, but that seemed to be her cause, and she showed her contempt for Bush by moving and destroying Police barricades set up to protect the runners. This proved to be our good fortune, as we were able to go through a newly destroyed barricade and find excellent parking.

That Sunday was hot and sunny, as it usually is in Utica in July, but everyone had a good race. We hung around at the party hoping to see our new friends, but we missed them in the crowd. We did partake of a Saranac brew or two, got tingles as the F16 fighter jets flew overhead, danced to the live music, and just had a most wonderful time.

Finally it was time to pack up and head home. We all had good races and memories to carry with us. Most of all we had new friends we hope to see again in Utica next year.

Nugget #33

And now the rest of the Dribble Kabibbles

                                                                          

More Running Dribble Kabibbles

By Bill Donnelly

Running with the Dogs

            I have to admit, I was pretty pleased with my Boston Marathon this year.  My chip time of 3:34:51 was almost exactly one hour slower that my PR, run almost exactly 30 years before at the 1975 Boston Marathon.  As someone at work told me, I had aged two minutes per year.  I’ll take it, especially after the dismal times I ran at my last three Bostons.  I’m here to tell you, my secret was in the training, which is similar to Jeff Galloway’s method in that it involves a lot of walking.  Different from Galloway in that it involves very little running.

            My special training started when I began working for the company that provides Natural Gas for the area.  It shall remain nameless, but its name rhymes with Irrational Fool.  Anyway, I began reading meters for them last year in April, and I usually walk anywhere from ten to fifteen miles a day.  I do my regular running workouts, but my main training is the walking.  Now, walking by itself will not get you in top racing shape, you must also work on getting your heart rate up, and a lot of bursts of speed.  And that’s where the dogs come in.

            You see, I meet so many dogs all day long.  All kinds of dogs, big ones, small ones, friendly ones, mean ones, cute ones, and ugly ones (I once met one so ugly I thought it was a donkey, but I found out it was a monkey working for FEMA).  Most times I know they are there because the hand-held computers we carry to punch in the numbers on warn us if the next stop has a dog.  Problem is, it beeps at us when we are halfway across the lawn of the next stop, and the beeping is a very high pitch that humans can hardly hear, but which seems to do a good job of irritating the heck out of the dog sleeping under the bush.  The hand-held will usually say something like “mean dog – inside invisible fence so it’s ok” but meanwhile, I’m inside the invisible fence too, with an irritated “mean dog” coming at me. 

            This is the sudden burst of speed part of my training method.  Many of these each day.  Often the dog is inside a fence of the next house after the one where you are bending down at to read the meter, so you haven’t been warned of a dog yet.  Just as you are calmly punching in the reading, a seemingly rabid dog is leaping the height of the fence right next to you with blood-curdling growls that would scare the ugly off the director of FEMA.  This is the part where the heart rate gets going.  I’m here to tell you my training method works.  Of course all the weight I lost walking helped me too.

            The big downsize to my training method would be dog bites.  If you do not like dog bites, this method would not be for you.  I have been through two episodes of bites.  The first was more annoying than anything.  Away back last year, a little old lady couldn’t catch her two little yappers, so she said to come on in, they would be fine.  By the time I got to the basement door, I was wearing one on my calf like some strange piercing, and I’m shaking my leg and the thing is still yapping while hanging on for dear life.  Not much of a bite, but I don’t even like needles, and I had to go get a tetanus shot, since I had carefully avoided getting one for, oh, 25 years.  Did I mention I don’t like needles?

            My next K-9 biting episode happened about a month ago.  On a steamy hot morning, I entered a yard to head for the back door of the house.  My hand-held did not warn me of a dog, nor did the wooden fence say anything about a dog, and the hand-held indicated I should go to the back door to gain access to the house.  Just as I reached the back door, a huge set of teeth attached to a blood-curdling growl latched onto my arm before I could react.  I started swinging my hand-held at the teeth (I really have no Idea what kind of dog it was, all I saw was snarling teeth) and used a chair to keep the teeth at bay until I could get out of the yard.  It wasn’t till I got out that I realized the teeth had gotten me pretty good, and blood was gushing out of my arm.

            I wrapped it and headed for the medical center.  Being a dog bite, they were reluctant to put stitches in, but the wound was deep enough they put in a few loose stitches.  NOT NEEDLES!  Yeah, they numbed it first, but that took a bigger needle than the one they put the stitches in with.  So there you have the downsize of my training method.  It’s a method that works better than Galloway’s, just skip the dog bites.  Oh yeah, try to stay away from monkeys and donkeys also.

Pet Peeves

            Speaking of Jeff Galloway, just a short Dribble Kabbible to tell of one of my pet peeves.  Not the Peeve I had as a kid.  That Peeve was a type of monkey (actually called Peeves because they peed a lot) that had a bad disposition, was constipated, and looked like a donkey, but I managed to sell it to some unsuspecting sucker.  No, this pet peeve concerns Jeff Galloway and part of his running advice.

            Galloway used to coach pretty good runners.  My brother Tom, better known as “Bill Donnelly’s slow little brother”, was training directly under Galloway back in 1989.  He had Tom and a couple other runners actually training quite hard.  They built up to doing 13 one mile repeats at about a 5:30 pace, and their long runs got to be up to 30 miles, while going through 26 at a 2:56 pace.  If Tom was ever set to break 2:30 for a marathon, this was his time.

            I came to Buffalo to watch him attempt it at the Buffalo Marathon help the first weekend in May of that year.  Unfortunately for Tom and the others, Buffalo woke up to about six inches of wet, sloppy snow.  Starting off in that, the runners kicked up that snow onto their legs, and very few were happy with their times.  Tom’s legs tightened up so much he dropped out shortly after the halfway mark. 

            Since then, Galloway has dumbed-down his training method.  Now he aims at the greater masses of runners by preaching a method of running where you run ten minutes and then walk one minute.  You do this all the way, for long training runs and long races.  In marathons he suggests you do your walking at the water stops, and this is where I get annoyed with his method.

            I do not care if people use his method or not.  It works for some, and not for others.  What Galloway apparently didn’t think to tell the runners is to use common sense and common courtesy when stopping for water.  In any of the big marathons like Boston, Chicago, New York, or whatever, it’s a madhouse at the water stops anyway.  To have many of the people stopping right in front of you as you are reaching for water is so annoying and dangerous.  I grab water and then get behind those giving it out so I can stop to quickly drink it without choking on it.  You have to keep moving or get out of the way, and so many Peeves do not seem to understand this.  There, it’s off my chest, and now I feel better, until it happens to me again.  Then I will politely say to whoever stops in front of me “You are such a Donkey!”  But I won’t mean it as a term of endearment like some would.  

                      

Nugget # 32

Here we go again with those Running Dribble Kabibbles.

More Running Dribble Kabibbles

By Bill Donnelly

            Wow, I can hardly believe how many people told me they loved my last article entitled “Running Dribble Kabibbles”.  I hate to brag, but I would put the number of people gushing about it at somewhere less than 10,000 people, yet definitely more than two people.  Therefore I decided to do a sequel to that article, and write more Running Dribble Kabibbles.  Now comes the one slight problem; many readers, and I would have to guess this number at somewhere less than 10,000 people, yet definitely more than two people, do not know what a Dribble Kabibble is, even though I told you all to check out the July, 2004 issue of the Checkers Chatter.  My article in that issue, called “Straight Eye for the Running Guy” clearly defines the term.

            Well, it seems that the issues of the newsletter that you can read online at the Checkers website do not go back to last year.  This creates quite a problem for many of the readers since we have so many new members that do not have an extensive collection of past issues as do all the older members.  You old-timers save each issue, don’t you?  Anyway, with so many people joining Checkers each month, and I put that number at somewhere less than 10,000 people, yet definitely more than two people, I decided to reprint that passage which describes the Dribble Kabibble.  So without any further ado, oh wait, a brief explanation.  The article describes what I wore in my first-ever road race, which was the 1973 New York City Marathon, and the Dribble Kabibble is just one item I wore.  So now, without any further ado,

            Now, I want to keep this article serious, as always, while not offending any delicate souls out there.  Therefore, I will use code words for the piece of sports equipment I’m talking about.  So for this article only, if I write the word dribble, I mean jock, and if I write kabibble, I mean strap.  Is that clear?  So anyway, the first thing I put on was my dribble kabibble.  Oh yeah, if I write wibble, I mean cup, and if I write jibble, it means size.  So anyway – wait- if I write zibble, it means big.  So I put on my dribble kabibble whose wibble jibble was of course quite zibble. 

I’m here to tell you that a dribble kabibble, while perhaps fine for most sports, was never meant for long distance running.  The material it is made of is some sort of indestructible elastic stuff that, and I have this on good authority, was originally created as a covering for the heat shield for the Project Mercury Space Capsules, sort of an extra protection for our astronauts.  Unfortunately, the material proved too abrasive and was destroying the heat shields, so the makers of this evil stuff had too find a new use for it.  You guessed it, dribble kabibbles.  And, just for good measure, they added ribs, which I’ll code name nibbles, to the wibble. 

            So now I’m wearing a dribble kabibble whose nibbles on the wibble will rub my inner thighs raw, especially because my wibble jibble is so zibble, there are more nibbles on my dribble kabibble than there are nibbles on the wibble of the average guy’s dribble kabibble.  Needless to say, but I’ll say it anyway, this marathon was the last time I wore a dribble kabibble, since my thighs were rubbed raw practically down to my knees, thanks to my zibble wibble jibble.  There, I hope I was able to handle this delicate topic without offending anyone, yet still being able to keep to the serious nature of the article, as I always try to do.

 

            So now you know, all somewhere less than 10,000 people, yet definitely more than two people who are new members, what I’m talking about.  And so now, without any further ado, this month’s Running Dribble Kabibbles.

Terms of Endearment

            Often we runners know each other fairly well, but do we really get to know each other?  Yes, we get to know which runners are always positive, which are extremely competitive, and which to avoid while running because they continuously pass gas at the drop of a shoe (or the beeping of their stop watch).  Maybe that is why Patty Webb is always running alone during track.  I mean she is just so darn positive.  You don’t think I meant she was, you know, too competitive?

            Anyway, do we really get to know each other?  I came to this realization at a recent party when I got to really get to know a lot about another runner, something that I never would have guessed about her.  The runner to be roasted here, err, I mean described, is Anne Reif.  Anne is the always positive, competitive, and flatulating woman who works for the YMCA.  Anne is the Go To Girl of the Turkey Trot who put the Y in the Village People.  Anne is the one who takes troubled behavior problem kids from Buffalo on trips to Greece in order to try to leave them there. 

            What I didn’t know about Anne, and I’m sure most of you did not know, is that underneath her outgoing and apparent self-assuredness is a little girl who craves attention of any sort, which makes her feel so alive and worthwhile.  And I mean any kind of attention; she especially likes it when people point out her flaws so that she can work on improving herself.  She even loves insults of any kind, for in her mind, what says “I care” more than a good zinger.  Weird?  Yes, but this is Anne Reif’s way.

            Anne even has developed a term of endearment she uses for people that she feels have complimented her in such ways.  If you should be so lucky as to touch Anne with a really good putdown, or point out one of many flaws, she thanks you in her own special way.  She will look you straight in the eye and lovingly say “You are such a Donkey!”  Well, she doesn’t use the word “donkey”, it is the word that stands for a donkey, starts with the letter a, and rhymes with class.  But she means donkey.

            How does this phrase come to be a term of endearment?  Good question.  It seems that when Anne was but a tot of three, she had a pet monkey that meant the world to her.  An exotic pet, but her folks could only afford it because it was on special.  It had a lot wrong with it, including a bad disposition, constipation that resulted in much flatulence (this didn’t bother little Anne, although the monkey was bothered by her similar problem), constant drooling, and a face that looked more like a donkey’s face, or was it that word that rhymes with class.  Anyway, the little creature was Anne’s pride and joy, and when people pointed out the monkey’s flaws to tiny Anne, in her child’s pea-brain, she felt they must love it too.  Thus, her love of being insulted to this day, and also why she will say “You are such a Donkey!” to show her pleasure.

            The best example of this strange behavior was recently reported to me by my brother Tom, better known to you all as “Bill Donnelly’s slow little brother”.  Tom Donnelly’s new little wife, Mrs. Tom Donnelly, or better known to you all as “Did you know Julie Doell married Bill Donnelly’s slow little brother”, sadly lost her father last year.  Julie and her Step-mom, and many of her father’s best friends, had a very moving ceremony for John, Julie’s father, in August.  You may know the date, because it was the same day as the Checkers’ picnic, thus explaining why Tom, Julie, and I were not at the picnic, and why the picnic was so dull.  The constant rain did not help either.

            Anyway, we were in Rochester, NY for the Memorial Service, and Anne Reif joined us, as she and the Donnelly’s have become fast friends since Tom became race director of the Turkey Trot.  As I have said, it was a very moving ceremony at the golf course where Julie’s dad and step-mom were married, and as a bag-piper played, John’s ashes were spread over the area he was married.  Of course it was raining constantly, yet tears were running down the faces of the many people who loved John, and of those of us who didn’t even know him.  We knew Julie, and that was enough.

            Anne too had tears as she huddled under an umbrella to stay dry from the crying heavens, and with good reason.  You see, she wore a very nice white outfit for the occasion, but one that was practically see-through as it was.  She dared not get wet or it was wet-tee shirt (and pants) day at the old golf course.  The ceremony ended, and the golfing friends of John prepared to tee-off for a memorial round of golf, John’s favorite sport.  I left, because I had to attend a surprise 75^th birthday party for Jesse Kregal, the other Grand Old Man of Running here in Buffalo, and founder of the Buffalo Philharmonic A.C.  The rest of the story was told to me by Tom.

            You see, since Tom, Julie and Anne did not play golf, they took it upon themselves to ride around together on a golf cart providing barley-malt beverage sustenance for the golfers braving the rain.  The three of them were mighty popular with the golfers, and all was going well with Tom driving, Julie huddled tightly next to him, and Anne riding shotgun.  Going well until the narrow path Tom had to traverse.

            You see, the path ran through a whole mess of dripping wet bushes, and I’m not talking about the President’s daughters’ gone wild while on Spring Break.  No, these were super-soakers, and Tom was heading right for the path only wide enough to get a bike through without getting wet.  Well, Tom WAS driving, and of course, his instinct for self survival was to veer right.  Thirty yards worth of veering right!

            Now, who was it I said was riding shot-gun?  Oh yeah, that would be Anne Reif, wearing her almost see-through white outfit.  Well, looking like one who had just gone through a car wash, you would think Anne would have been upset.  But NOOOOO!  You see Anne had been feeling left out a bit, and no one was paying her much attention.  Now she knew people would be paying her attention!  (Tom did tell me her purple thong and purple with pink hearts-bra stood out quite well).  I believe Anne knew Tom had done her a favor, and that is why she turned to him and said: “You are such a Donkey!”  And she meant it!

            Tom immediately hit another narrow path, and veering hard-right, now knowing Anne appreciated it, really let her have it.  Once again, “You are such a Donkey!”  Julie didn’t quite get it, but she was just happy Anne kept her dry.  Another “You are such a Donkey!!!!” followed, and Tom knew he had made Anne’s day.

            And right he was.  At the party after the golfing, Tom, and Julie could hardly buy a drink, because the happy golfers were so thankful for them providing the suds while they played kept them in whatever they wanted.  Anne, on the other hand, was the center of attention she wanted to be, and truly enjoyed it every time one of the golfers would playfully throw her out into the rain if she happened to be drying off.  It was a good day for everyone, and all the way back to Buffalo, she kept letting Tom know how thankful she was for his golf cart driving skills.     

            Thus it is that Anne shows her pleasure, and it all goes back to her pet monkey of sooo many years ago.  The monkey is gone now.  It was hired by Dubya to head FEMA, and it is now relaxing in the Bahamas.  But next time you see Anne Reif, make her feel good and loved.  Point out one of her major flaws, or better yet, just insult the heck out of her.  If you do, you will probably be rewarded with a “You are such a Donkey!”  Try it; it will make you feel better.  But remember, you won’t hear her say donkey, but rather the word that rhymes with class.

Nugget # 31

And now for Running Dribble-Kabibbles

Running Dribble Kabibbles

By Bill Donnelly

            Just recently I was at the awards ceremony for the Ronald McDonald House 5K.  No, I hadn’t run, but I thought they might give me some sort of award or recognition for all the “Super-Size Me” I have taken part in over the years.  No such luck, but still, there were many friends for me to cheer as they received their awards for a race well run, so I stayed.  Did I mention there was free beer and food there?  Not that that mattered to me. 

            Anyway, a couple times my good friend Kieran O’Loughlin was involved in embarrassing situations through no fault of his own, and more than a couple times, after each episode, different people came up to me immediately and told me I should include the incidents in my next article because they were so funny.  Kieran, isn’t it nice to know your running buddies from Checkers think so highly of you, they are so quick to sacrifice your good name on the Altar of Bad Taste, with me being the High Priest of said Altar?  Do they really think I would sink so low as to endanger our friendship just to get a laugh?  Think again old pal.

            Actually, at first I thought “No Way!”, since it has nothing to do with “Back in The Day!”  But the more I thought of it, and thought of a couple other incidents I always wanted to write about, but were too short for a whole article and were not about the way-back, I decided to do a bunch of short observations, or running stories if you will.

            Now, what to call these “short” musings?  I couldn’t call them “Running Shorts”, because Beebe Bailey already has that one locked up for The Buffalo News articles.  “Running Socks” stinks, “Running Spanks” just doesn’t cover it enough, and “Running Deer” was the name of a Native American girl I once dated.  Then it hit me, “Running Dribble Kabibbles”, just because it sounds good.  Remember, if you do not know what a Dribble Kabibble is, check out the July, 2004 issue of Checkers Chatter.

            And so without any further ado, here are my “Running Dribble Kabibbles”:

A Boy Named Sue (or Kieran)

          Back to the Ronald McSupersizeme awards.  There was a crowd of us yapping away while the presenter of cheesy awards, and a very effeminate looking Ronald McDonald, tried to announce the winners over a sound system taken directly from a drive-up window of McDonalds.  Not being able to hear well (I thought I heard him ask if I wanted fries with that) we were all excited to hear Kieran O’Loughlin’s name being called.  He’s excited, his time of 19 Minutes and change usually not good enough to win something in his tough age group, but here he was getting an award.

            Hold on there Mr. Kieran.  That award was for third place overall for women.  The scorers had just probably never seen the good old Irish name of Kieran, so they assumed it was a woman’s name.  So already a couple people are telling me I should write this up.  But wait, there’s more!

            That’s right, ten minutes later as they are going through the age groups, whose name comes up again.  You guessed it, they clearly said “Do you want fries with that Kieran O’Loughlin” and up he went once more.  And once again, you guessed it, they were calling for first place, 45-49, Women.  I just don’t get it, didn’t the scorer notice the first time Kieran went up, or is it that the scorer’s wife also has a beard and just wouldn’t look good in spanks.  That’s a low blow Kieran; you would look just fine in spanks. 

            By now Kieran is walking back very embarrassed and dejected, and at least three people are tugging at my sleeve telling me I have to write about this now!  So now I have.  We finally checked the results and found Kieran did come in fourth in his age, but no cigar.  And that’s that.

            Oh, wait, I just have to add my Two cents worth, you see, this wouldn’t have happened Back in The Day.  Here I go again, but back then we runners knew to have Manly names that everyone understood to be Manly.  Names like Bill, Tom, Jack, or Dick.  OK, so there was Kim Wettlaufer, who was one of the top runners back then, but his last name was very Manly sounding, and in fact his last name was German for “Wet Manly Thing!”  Even our nick-names were Manly.  Names like Richard “The Founder” Sullivan.  Or Tom “Bill Donnelly’s slow little brother” Donnelly.  There was even a pretty good runner back then, who you still might see running around Delaware Park, named Tony Anthony.  I mean, Tony’s a Manly name, but what a cruel sense of humor his parents had.  His name was Anthony Anthony.  Wonder what his middle name was?  BoBanthony?

            I mean, there is nothing wrong with the name Kieran, although when in America, do as we do, and learn English for cripes sake.  Oh wait, that’s part of my diatribe for my article for the White People who Show their Intelligence by Shaving their Heads and Carving Swastikas into their Arms with Safety Pins Party Paper.  But come on.  Do you know what Kieran means in Gaelic?  Well, let me tell you, it is actually the Celtic word used in the movie “Million Dollar Baby”.   You know, the nick-name Clint Eastwood gives Hillary Swank to use when she fights.  A Manly thing to do, fisticuffs and all, but he finally tells her that it means “Little Darling” right before he pulls the plug on her.  Nice of him, huh?  Gee, I hope this doesn’t ruin the movie for those of you who haven’t seen it yet.

            Anyway, that said, it wasn’t a good night for the O’Loughlins at all, as far as the awards went.  Kieran’s lovely wife Joann won her age group, but somehow the people in charge missed her finishing completely.  I know she finished well, because I saw her come in as I was waiting for my Super-Sized-Me-Meal to arrive.  Boy, did they screw up.  Never got my meal either!

            But speaking of Joann, now there is a Manly-FeManly name, and is she running great.  Think of all the Manly Joes out there.  Joe Jordan, Joe DiMaggio, Joe Camel, Joe Momma, and Mighty Joe Young.  I guess it just goes to prove my point, we knew how to do things right Back in The Day.

My Bad

          A very brief “Running Dribble Kabibble”.  In the last issue, when comparing the 1977 Fredonia 10K to the 2005 Lancaster 10K, I said Ralph (a Manly name) Zimmerman came in fifth with a time of 32:32.  My bad, his time was actually 31:32.  This was almost exactly eight months before Ralph would run a 2:18:55 in the Boston Marathon of 1978, a Manly time.  And that was not a PR for Ralph.

            In fact, I ran that same Boston in 2:36 even, and that was not a PR for me.  I only bring this up because in the previous “Kabibble”, I did not mention my nick-name from Back in The Day.  I kind of hate to say it, but my many female admirers referred to me as Bill “Kieran” Donnelly, and they did so for obvious reasons, since you now know what “Kieran” means in Celtic.  But I always had the announcers use Bill when presenting me with the many awards I should have won.  Maybe Kieran should change his name to a really Manly name, like Bill, or William, or Liam.  Just thought I’d throw that in.

Captain Freddy “Long John” Lew

And The Quivering Lip

            Now here’s a story about our dear friend Fred Lew and the 2004 Boston Marathon.  The title of this “Running Dribble Kabibble” may throw you, but let me clear that up right away.  I’m not implying that Fred is some sort of Buccaneer captain, and his Pirate ship is the Quivering Lip.  Actually, Fred’s nick-name “Long John” (and a Manly nick-name it is) comes from the fact that when Fred was a young lad, each November, his loving mother would sew him into a pair of long-johns that he would have to wear until April.  Remember, we did have colder winters back then, and by April, he emitted a very Manly smell, and without having to eat burritos.

            I didn’t run this particular Boston, but I was there to cheer on many friends, one of them being Jennifer Hulme.  It was her first Boston, and she was understandably very nervous.  My good friend Dr. Dave Walborn was able to calm her down the night before the race, and to this day I do not know what prescribed medication he used.  The next morning, I saw all my friends off to Hopkinton, went for a run myself, and then settled into my hotel room at the Howard Johnson (Manly) Fenway (Manly) with a few beers (Manly) to watch the run on TV (Manly), until I would go to the one-mile-to-go mark and cheer everybody in (Manly).

            The rest of this story I got second hand, since I wasn’t in Hopkinton.  Seems everyone was doing OK, despite the fact that the temperature was approaching 87 degrees, a bit too hot for most marathoner’s liking.  Finally it was time to head to the start, and Jennifer joined Fred and many others on their trek.  As they went along, runners were dropping off their bags at the designated busses, which of course, went by their number.  With 17,000 runners, this is a very complicated procedure. 

            Fred handed his bag to the appropriate bus, as did others, and race time was drawing nigh.  Jennifer’s number was something like 10,001, and they came to the last bus, whose last number they would take was 9,999!  Turns out, Jennifer should have turned left a half mile back, and found her bus a half mile up the street.  “Ladies and Gentlemen, the race will start in 15 minutes!”

            Yow!  Jennifer quickly realized her predicament, and being her first Boston, she felt lost.  She did a very FeManly thing, her eyes welled up with just a touch of tears, and her lower lip began to quiver.  See, it’s not a Pirate ship.  Turns out, when Fred was a lad of eight, he got a new puppy.  It was March, and when the puppy smelled Fred in his long johns, it’s eyes welled up with just a touch of tears, and it’s lips began to quiver.  Fred never forgot the feeling of helplessness he felt then (he could have cut off the dang long johns), and when he woke up the next morning, little “Kieran” had run away, never to be seen again.

            Ever since, Fred was a soft touch for the “Quivering Lips”.  He quickly took control, and gently said “Follow me Kieran (for he knew what the word meant in Celtic, and knew it’s soothing qualities), and we shall be fine.”  Freddy “Long John” Lew did the Manly thing that day, and got Jennifer’s bag stowed, and made sure she made it to the starting line just before the gun went off.  I’d like to say everything turned out great for everyone involved, but remember, this turned into one of the hottest Bostons ever.  At least 87 degrees with a wicked hot wind that could cook pizzas; not many had a great day. 

            I watched as good friends of mine struggled past, and just to finish on this day was an amazing accomplishment.  Some, like Richard “The Founder” (Manly) Sullivan and Diane “Mangoes” (FeManly) McGuire did well to finish in decent times.  I never saw Fred or Jennifer go by, but Boston is so packed with runners, I missed many, plus those one or two or three beers back in the hotel didn’t help.  But I heard what happened.

            Jennifer had a great time, considering the conditions, just a few minutes off her PR.  Fred did OK, and finished, but no where near what he wanted.  It seems that when Jennifer passed him, she thanked him profusely, but then said: “Please don’t ever call me Kieran again.  I Know Celtic and it is not FeManly enough for me.  But thanks again for your help, and I’ll see you at the finish.” 

            Now I swear this is how I heard it from those involved.  If you don’t believe me, just ask one of those involved.  But that would not be the Manly thing to do.  Seeing you with my next “Running Dribble Kabibble” articles, this is Mike, err, Bud, err, I mean Bill “Kieran” Donnelly signing off.