Alexander Stefan Davis

8 days after he was due and 22 hours after Mom started the process in the hospital Alexander Stefan Davis was born April 19th @ 10:57pm. Weighing in at 8 lbs, 11oz and 22.5in high he's a TALL drink of water. He doesn't quite have Kai's head size but you can tell he's a Davis. Mom, Dad & Alex are all happy, healthy and looking forward to heading home soon.

More pics & info to follow as we get some rest and get settled into life playing man to man with two kids!

B&B (&K&A)

RIP Subaru

RIP Brian's Subaru. 2004-2010. Rear ended and totaled by some old man tonight. I'm ok but will have one hell of a headache in the morning. Good news is neither Becca nor Kai were with me (though amazingly Kai's car seat was unscathed. Yes, I know I need to replace it). First, some food and a scotch.

Wicked Pissah Fast - Brian's 2010 Boston Marathon Epic

The bucket list. Not just a sappy movie, people definitely have them. The things they want to do and goals they want to accomplish before they leave the earth. Qualifying for and racing Boston was very high up on my list. So after qualifying in December of 2008, I knew that the next 16 months of running were all leading up to the 2010 Boston Marathon. This training cycle was my hardest on record. Running 6 days/week for 18 weeks was a level of training I'd never seen before, even in high school. But I knew deep down that I wanted to put an effort level into this race that I'd never done before. It meant a lot to me to do well in Boston. So... here's the story broken into three parts: Pre-race, the race itself and my post-race thoughts. Enjoy one part or the whole thing. I know I did!

Brian

Before the story starts though I have one thing to add. Becca and Kai are the most amazing family I could ever hope for. Their support and Becca's understanding and sacrifice over the past 18 weeks were THE reason I had such a great race and Boston experience. Having someone who understands or at the very least supports my long distance running habit is immeasurable.

Pre-Race

5am Friday comes awfully early. Why are we up this early again? Oh right, it’s either this or a ticket that costs us another $300/each. Hmm. Becca's brother picks us up and off we head to the airport. Jon half-jokes that he refuses to touch my race bag (which I was taking as a carry on like any good paranoid athlete would do) for fear of one of my shoes randomly flying out and making a break for it. A relatively painless flight to Long Beach (the only downfall of taking Jet Blue is having to route about 1500 miles out of the way) delivers us into a sea of what Becca describes as "really fit looking people." Jet Blue was nice enough to have a 90 minute delay, ensuring that we had plenty of time to discuss the question of the day: is it bad karma to be wearing a 2010 Boston jacket before the race? There were plenty of runners already sporting them in the airport. While I appreciated people's pre-race enthusiasm I'm definitely in the "bad karma" camp. No need to temp fate three days before the race.

Our delay got us into Boston about 8pm local time. My college friend Lara picked us up and showed off the awesome Boston driving skills she's picked up over the last 12 years. We settled into her place in Newton, ordered Chinese takeout (including the awesomely named Mystery Sauce Chicken) and made it a short night. After dinner I got the following fortune: "Even the toughest of days have bright spots, just do your best". What does that mean? Is this a good sign or a prophecy of things to come?

Saturday brings the Marathon Expo. We quickly picked up my race number and moved to the more important stuff: the adidas schwag area. Using Kai's stroller as a battering ram within the crowds (without Kai in it of course) I ended up picking one of the previously mentioned jackets, a sweatshirt and a running shirt before the crowds became too much and Becca got me to checkout before I could do any more damage. The rest of the expo was pretty low key for me as I'm a running luddite and don't get too excited about the latest energy bars, drinks, horse tranquilizers, blood doping etc. The two expo highlights though were a Bill Rodgers sighting (he was signing autographs for Runner’s World) and getting to watch the video of the last half of the course. As I soaked in Newton Hills and the last five miles, it really hit me that I was here and ready for this. I have to admit the room might have gotten a little dusty for me as it moved towards Boylston Street and the finish. Definitely time to exit stage right.

The rest of the pre-race weekend was pretty low key. Due to wet weather, instead of hiking around Boston on Saturday we drove up to Marblehead and enjoyed the shore. In the end this was likely the best strategy as I still got some tourist activities in without being on my feet too much. Sunday meant sleeping in, picking up some sweet sweats at the second hand shop for race day, hitting the grocery store to get my pre-race meal of peanut butter and matzoh and driving part of the course. Starting at Wellesley we drove miles 12-23, including Cleveland Circle from where you see the famous CITGO sign for the first time. Since my original understanding was that you could see it 4 miles away on Heartbreak my thought was "that's not TOO bad!" I guess it’s all about perspective and expectations.

Race Day

For many, Boston is the culmination of years of hard work and putting everything together for a great qualifying time. This combined with the timing of the race (training during winter can be hard depending on locale) and the hard course can lead to many people just running the race for the experience. When I got into Boston, my original goal was to requalify. Then as I rounded into shape to start training, the target moved to running under 3 hours. As training went progressively better and better, I set myself one final summa cum laude from Harvard goal: 2:55. Becca and a few other people were the only ones who knew about this and for good reason. To meet it I’d need to run 6:40/mile for 26.2 miles. A tall order.

These goals and expectations were the last thing I was thinking of with the alarm went off at 5am. 5am is WAY too early for this reformed night owl though I did take a moment to appreciate Boston’s later than usual 10am start time. At CIM in 2008 I was already on a bus to Folsom by 5am. After a good luck kiss from Becca, Lara drove me down to Cambridge to pick up Duke’s Bus. During this time I soaked in the beautiful morning and watched the crew teams work their way up and down the Charles. For anyone who has the chance to run Boston, Duke’s Bus is an awesome bus service provided by the Cambridge Sports Union. They deliver you to Hopkinton and stick around until race time ensuring you of two very important things: cover from the elements and a bathroom.

I ran into fellow Portland and Red Lizard Louis at the bus drop off and we hopped on and headed towards Hopkinton. It was really cool to see the wall of buses on the interstate, all delivering a group of very focused runners towards the beginning of something bigger than all of them. The pre-race time ended up being pretty low key. I left the bus once to check out the athlete’s village. I got as far as the entrance, saw that it looked like a cross between a refugee camp and a outdoor concert and decided to retreat to the bus to relax. Of course, the one drawback of having the bathroom on the bus is that there is only one of them. So with 30 minutes before the race and at least ¾ of a mile between me and the start, I found myself using the “I’m in Wave 1!” card to sneak to the front of the line for one final pit stop. I tried to run from there to the start but the masses were just too much. It was really impressive to see approx. 25,000 runners walk through this little town of 15,000 towards whatever fate had in store.

With a bib number in the 3000s, I was guaranteed a corral fairly close to the start (close enough to hear the starter’s pistol but not close enough to see the elites. It was a very cool moment to hear them list the vets that live in Hopkinton followed my two jets doing a flyby of the start. With that and a shot of the starter’s pistol, we were off!

5k: 0:20:58

Everyone I’d talked to warned me to take it easy for the first mile as it includes the steepest downhill of the course. In fact most people had told me to really stay reserved for the first 16 miles and start cranking up the effort level in the hills. It was not hard to take it easy; there was way too much people watching to be had over the first 5k as I settled into a solid effort without going out control. There was my favorite sign on the course: “Real Gingers run Marathons.” There was the Boy Scoutmaster running in full uniform (though thankfully for him in running shoes and not boots). As a former Eagle Scout myself I came up, introduced myself gave him a quick fist bump and headed off. Then there were the “Beer Me” guys. Wearing matching shirts, I watched them stay true to their word when the motorcycle posse @ mile two offered them beers. I’m assuming they made it to the finish but would have love to seen their BAC at Boylston.

10k: 0:20:49
15k: 0:20:46

Miles 3-9 just seemed to be a blur. Ashland, Framingham and Natick all passed by with nothing terribly of note. I chuck my favorite running gloves @ mile 6 because it's already getting warmer than I like it. At that point, I wonder how much money gets burned in clothing chucked at the start line and throughout the course. On a positive note some little kid in Framingham just scored some sweet Asics gloves.

During this time, I’m also starting to notice that there are really no flat areas on this course. It’s all up or down and actually many more uphills than advertised. The good news is my body still feels good and relaxed as I start to get closer and closer to Wellesley and the half way mark.

20k: 0:20:48
Half (21.1k): 1:27:50

As I mentioned previously, I’ve been warned that it's all about the 2nd half of the race. As a result, I’m just trying to enjoy the festive atmosphere of the race in the first half as much as possible. This cumulates in my visit to Wellesley. The women of Wellesley are known for two things on marathon day: the scream tunnel they create that you can either on either side for a long ways and their signs that say “kiss me.” As I approach Wellesley I decide I can use all the good luck I can get on the day, run up along the fence and plant a quick peck on the cheek to one of the ladies. This leads to a huge uproar in my immediate area and sends me off like a rocket towards the halfway mark. I hit the half feeling strong and within 20 seconds of the summa cum laude goal.

25k: 0:20:48

I spend the next three miles just preparing for the start of the famed Newton hills. These four hills come in miles 16-21. Each one on it’s face isn’t a killer but put the four together and they’re famous for a reason. For me, I think the first one might be the worst because you've just come off the second steepest downhill of the course and it's so friggin' long. It was at this point that I realized that my hill work might not have been the most appropriate for the course.

But before the gory part of the course, two funny barefoot stories. The first was about 4-5 miles in when as a barefoot runner was passing by, a young spectator suddenly blurts, "he's running and he doesn't have any shoes on! Did he forget his shoes?" This led to laughter by everyone in our little running blob of 20 at that point. The second was at the mile 16 or 17 aid station. Another barefoot runner was coming through the aid station at the same time as some of us and one of the volunteers, in her best Bahston accent yelled at us "watch out for him, he doesn't have any shoes on!" Can't decide if she thought his feet were WMDs or whether she was keeping us mean, shoe wearing runners from doing any damage on him.

30k: 0:21:22

At about mile 18, with two of the Newton hills behind me, my quads have joined the party. They start to feel like ground beef put into a blender. I think to myself “I could have sworn I took it easy on the first half of the course. What the hell?” I start channeling Ryan Hall and glance at my watch occasionally to make sure I'm still close to being on pace. At mile 18, I also start trending heavily left to make sure I don't miss my posse and aid station (my friend Erin from NY had done up signs and balloons and Becca, Kai and Lara were planning on seeing me there and handing some extra supplies to me). While I'm doing that, I have a long legged man name Ron come up to me and start quizzing me about the Lizards (turns out he's from CA and had met a few @ the CIM race I qualified at). We then have the following conversation:

Ron: "Do you know Louis?"
Me (huffing and puffing): "Yes"
Ron: "Just passed him walking about a mile back. Said he was cramping."
Me: “Really? Crap!”

At this point I A) Feel horrible for Louis and hope he's putting it back together on the course (I eventually found out he had Achilles problems and had to drop out) and B) suddenly get very worried about my own survival skills as Louis is in a LOT better shape than me...

Mile 19: After much meandering along the left side of the course I finally hit “Davis Square” @ the famed Johnny Kelly statue. I see Becca with Kai strapped in and make a beeline for her. With my “business face” on, I proceed to do the following:

1) Chuck the Gu I’d picked up at mile 17 (why did I carry this thing for two miles when I had no intention of actually consuming it? Damn it!) into the crowd. Evidently though I chucked it right at Lara’s friends. Oops!

2) Grabbing the Gatorade and Mojo Bar from Becca without so much as eye contact. I disputed this later on but the photographic evidence was damming. This on its face wasn’t horrible but when coupled with my later story of giving the Wellesley girls a kiss? Well, let’s just say I’m lucky I have a very understanding wife ☺

3) Becca had been nice enough to hand me a banana as well for fear of me cramping late in the race. What was my reaction? A look of utter confusion followed by me chucking the banana onto the road about 20m down the road.

So despite all that drama, it was really nice to see familiar faces even if just for a few seconds. I was really starting to hurt going into the last two Newton hills and it showed. I really didn’t have any extra drive at this point. Despite grabbing fluids at every water stop during the race, I was still starting to feel a little off. As a result I held onto my bottle for most of the next two miles, despite my hatred for carrying things while I run, eventually finishing it off. While my watch showed that I was starting to slip off my overall goal pace it did end up feeling like I was gaining ground on people but also having people pass me as well. Suddenly my hill training seems inconsequential as I'm just slogging up the third of the Newton Hills at whatever pace my body is willing to do.

35k: 0:21:19

As I hit the top of the famed Heartbreak Hill I catch a break of sorts. I am suddenly by myself with a short stocky runner in front of me. As we reach BC, I quickly figure out he's got a Boston College singlet on leading to an insane level of cheers by the drunken BC faithful. I somehow gain strength not from the crowds cheering, but from imagining myself as being the "heel" whose job is to ruin the hometown boy's day by defeating him on the homestretch of Boston. I’d like to say that the shift to downhill running was a welcome respite but at that point my legs just wanted a flat piece of land. And my mind wanted a good stiff drink.

Miles 22-24 become very interesting. I stop looking at my watch so much I realize I’m going as fast as my body will let me. I feel like I'm making up ground but also feel my quads punish my on every foot strike. At this point I hit the mental wall: I'm no longer caring about what pace I'm running or who I'm keeping up with/passing/getting passed by. A large chunk of the course at this point turns into a blur only brought into clarity by mile markers and aid stations. I remember crossing the tracks near Cleveland Circle only because my friend Lara had warned me the day before that many a person had been their victim during the race. I then see the Citgo sign and in a complete turnaround from Sunday, I look at it thinking, "I still have THAT far to go?" I hit Kenmore Square remembering my friend Lincoln’s advice to soak in the crowd but not remembering a damn thing other than finally passing the taunting piece of Boston skyline that is the Citgo sign.

40k: 0:21:05
42.2k: 2:57:26

Everything is anything at this point (ok, I have no idea what I meant when I wrote this originally but for some reason it works). I'm focusing on putting one foot in front of the other and hoping I don't randomly cramp up or crash or do something equally idiotic. The dip under Mass Ave feels like climbing Everest. Once I turn onto Boylston, I actually hit my watch @ 26.2 so see how close I really was to my original pace goal (2:55:33 so just over a second a mile off) My official marathon ends up being 26.5 miles, most of which I tacked on in the last 10 miles of the race. After hitting my watch I look up for the first time to see the finish. It's strangely soothing to see it so close yet still a ways away. It's then that the whole thing has hit me; I'm finishing the race I've always wanted to run and I'm doing it in record (for me at least) time. I take off my hat (which I never do while running), start pumping my arms and have this idiot grin on my face as I cross the finish line. I've done it. I've finished Boston. Hell, I’ve PR’d at Boston.

Finish area:

The finish area is so damn long. I guess it's a good way to keep people on their feet and moving. About 50m after the finish I help a volunteer get someone to the medical tent as I guess with two semi-functional legs I qualify as extra help. I watch another person go down ahead of me like they've been shot and be immediately taken care of by the crack medical staff. Get the mylar blanket (btw, a nice touch having the people tape it together), get the medal, get the lunch and go to get my bag. During this process I continue to move along though I stop every 50m as well. No physical problems, just overcome by the emotion of the moment. I keep starting to cry, then hold it back, compose myself and move ahead.

After it taking 10-15 minutes for the volunteer to find my bag, I take advantage of the awesome Boston infrastructure to get a massage. I somehow enjoy the cruel irony of having to walk down two flights of stairs to get into the massage/chiro area. From there I head to the University Club (many thanks to Len!), catch up with Len/Dan/Sarah/Clover and then head to the Gardens to meet Becca & Kai, where we find out Kai is scared of metal ducks... After a little bit of touristing around the Gardens, we hit the Green Dragon bar for Guinness & fried food. Seems like a fitting start to the post-race recovery process!

Final Results

2:57:26
6:46/mile
PR of 7:28

1021/22645 Overall
957/13112 Men's
737/4656 18-39 AG
16th ranked Oregonian
Half Splits: 1:27:50/1:29:36

Post Race Thoughts

Boston is quite simply an amazing race. I'm not quite sure how quickly I'm going to be able to get back but I'm hell bent on doing so. The crowds just fire you up, even if your brain can't process them the last few miles. They are 4-5 people deep in the early miles, ebb and flow for a while, get loud again @ Wellesley and then after that it's just a solid wall of people topped off with the chaos from Kenmore Square to the finish. To run a personal best on one of the most famous marathon courses in the world surpassed any performance goal I had. However, if the day had gone less well time wise I still would have been happy having the experience of running that course with that crowd.

The most deceptive part of the course itself is the lack of any consistent flat parts in the race. I trained for the hills but I don't think I realized that you spend almost the entire time moving up or down (or at least that's how it felt to me). This led to...

My hitting the wall psychologically for the first time in a race. Any time I had struggles in previous races, it was always physical and I usually got through it with my stubborn demeanor. However Boston, whether it was the course, the crowds or the occasion took more out of me mentally than any other race. I really didn't realize how much so until I hit those last few miles and stopped looking at my watch, had my game plan mentally float out of my head and contemplated walking at one point. Over the last three miles I just have these brief memories of the race and most of that has to do with the course itself, not the crowds at Kenmore or along Boylston. Regrettable in some ways but also tells me I pushed myself to another level and points to things to work on in future Boston races.

It was awesome to see the blue jackets swarm the town after the race. And even those who weren't wearing jackets wore their badge of honor (the non-functioning quads) with pride. Though I did feel bad for the guy on our Fenway tour the day after who at 6'4" realized he was going to try to be wedging himself into the old school seats at that night's game.

A post race recovery snack of Dunkin Donuts has never tasted so good. :-)

I tend to be a fairly self-critical person. Becca and I were talking on our flight back to Portland and given her knowledge of summa cum laude goal of 2:55, she asked "are you proud of your performance? Because you should be..." And for the first time since the birth of Kai, with no reservations the answer was yes. I was happy with my experience with no reservations. The way it should be I know but for me that short conversation really drove the whole experience home for me.

A final note: I was really amazed by the pride the city's citizens take in the event. I have had friends who have lived in Boston and watched the marathon and heard their stories but I lost count the number of times I had a random Bostonian stop me on Monday/Tuesday to either congratulate me or ask me how I did. This also included this awesome exchange at one of the downtown T stations:

T ticket guy: "So what did you run?"
Me: "2:57"
Random disheveled older man who scared the crap out of the family by appearing out of nowhere: "Do you know that's four times the normal speed of humans? You're wicked pissah fast!"
Me: "Thanks?"

On that note, thank you Boston. I’ll be back.

Our Gangster Baby

"Whassup??"

9 Months Old!

Yes, we realize that means it's been 3 months since our last post. Yikes. Not good. But as we got more active on Facebook, we've ended up posting our updates and pictures there, and not getting around to putting them up here too. We've realized though that a) some of you aren't on FB and b) this is a better way for us to look back and remember what's been going on in our lives. So one of our new year's resolution was to become much more disciplined and regular about posting here.

That means we've got a backlog of pics and stories. But for now, enjoy a couple of pics of the 9 months old. We can't believe how quickly time has flown!

(thanks to our friend Marlynn for the amazing pics she took during lunch this weekend)

Daddy's little girl...sportin' the colors early on

Still a little rosy cheeked/glassy-eyed from her cold/croup

yeah, she's going to be trouble. :-)

Kai's Bathing Adventure

A little video from Kai's first bath w/o her sling. Needless to say she's taking to the bath like a Duck to water.



Of course, this means that all future baths are going likely be located in the bathroom. Gone are the days of multitasking by cooking dinner and cleaning Kai! :-)

Brian

PS Hopefully more posts soon. So far our travel this summer has included the Oregon Coast, Corvallis, California and by October will include Minnesota and Europe. Needless to say we're not giving Kai a taste of travel; we're forcing it down her throat!

Daddy time pics

while I work on a non-baby entry.

"now Kai....the double play is a moment of pure beauty...."

Barnyard Dance is a real page turner

an avid reader, just like her parents

Daddy's little girl....

Getting to know each other right after birth

There is little that makes me melt so much as watching Brian and Kai together...

Enjoying one of her favorite places

Getting in some tummy time with Daddy

Sharing secrets

Heading out for her first walk

Who's my little girl?

Growing like a sprout...

Kai continues to do well. She's a growing baby (last week's doctor's appointment had her in the 50th percentile for weight, 95th for head size and 100th percentile for height) and amazingly awake, aware and agile. As I described her after our last appointment, she's a "tall drink of water."

Unfortunately, to be a tall drink you have to be full. A lot. Becca's feeling a bit tethered as Kai is embracing the breastfeeding thing and eating like a champ. Seemingly all of the time. The offshoot of this is that when Kai wakes up from sleeping, she usually wants to eat. Now. Like NOW!!!

(Feed Me Woman!)

So the cute pics of Kai are fewer and far between for now. This is more of what we see when she's awake. That's not a bad thing; she's continuing to grow and is just getting used to pesky things like a digestive track. It is good practice though for having to understand the various screams and determining which you can do anything about. I've been fortunate; in an effort to give Becca some more sleep, I've been taking Kai for some bonding time in the mornings. I can't even begin to describe the feelings around having this thing that you helped create curled up on you. Plus it's nice to have some time with Kai early on since most of her time is spent within a 5-10 foot radius of mom. Someone has to teach her the finer points of baseball :-)

Brian

Happy Opening Day!

For most folks, March 20th was the start of spring. For me, as a lifelong baseball fan spring doesn't start until Opening Day. While I was a bit bummed that the Red Sox were rained out of their opener, that doesn't mean Kai and I weren't ready for the occasion.

How do we say "Youk!" again daddy?

To answer the obvious questions:

1) No, I don't care that she's a girl. She's going to learn to love baseball (despite her mom's eventual efforts to the contrary).
2) Yes, I'm starting her VERY young on the path towards Sox fandom. However, no pink hats allowed :-)
3) Yes, the onesie is a bit large; the only ones I could find were 3-6 months so Kai is wearing it more as a nightshirt/dress look for now.

Kai says go Sox!

Brian

Kai's First Day

We're thrilled to announce the arrival of our daughter Kai Nida Davis to the world. Born March 31, 2009 @ 10:58pm, weighing 8 lbs and 21 3/4 inches in length, Kai is a baby ready to tackle the world. Kai and Becca are resting and doing well. Dad on the other hand is a nervy mess :-)

For the record, Kai got Becca's hair, her good looks and her propensity to talk. She got my head and shoe size. If she gets Becca's brains we're all doomed!

We'll let people know once we're home and settled in enough to start having visitors. In the meantime, keep positive healthy, sleep filled thoughts heading our way!

B&B

Brian's Crazy Emails #1

Being fortunate enough to be an early adopter to gmail, I had my choice of email addresses. Despite the obvious move of just using my first and last name (it was available), I chose to use my first initial and last name. I think this was mainly because it was what my work email was at the time but in retrospect, not the best move. Having a generic email address has led to me being signed up for all sorts of newsletters and offers as well as being the recipient of well... let's just say emails that aren't meant for me. On the suggestion of my friend wadE, I've chosen to start posting some of these for the entertainment value of all. All names have been deleted to protect the innocent, innoculous and idiotic.

So with that overly explanative introduction, here's the first Brian's Crazy Emails. It's no This Is Why You're Fat, but hopefully it will add some humor to your day.

Crazy Email #1:

I am freakin almost 12 & I still don’t have my ears pierced!!!!!!!!!!! Ugh the unfairness is unbelievable!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Uhuhuhuhuuuh! Cant breathe!!

I'm not quite sure where to start here. My friend wadE pointed out that she must not be Italian; evidently it's commonplace for Italian girls to get their ears pierced at 6 months (or so says his Italian-American wife). I just enjoyed the quality teen angst. She does get credit for not using texting English in the email though. Nice to have it completely devoid of OMGs and LOLs. However, the angry Pac-Man? I did a cursory glance of Google image but didn't have any luck finding the equivalent. Perhaps an original creation? Either way it seems to be speaking in Pac-ese. Perhaps "Let teen angst free?"

BD

Getting Prepped for Baby

I'm writing this from the lovely Oregon coast, where Becca and I are taking the time to load up on some R&R in preparation of the impending addition to the Davis family. We're inside of four weeks and as of Friday, Becca will officially be term. There are plenty of other things going on in our life (the biggest being battling parental health issues on both sides) but the baby is taking full focus.

As a friend of ours pointed out, we're never going to be truly prepared but we have what we need to come home from the hospital: A car seat (legally obligated in Oregon), diapers and well... boobs :-)

More once we're back in Portland.

Brian

The Yin & Yang of Politics

With today being inauguration day for our 44th president, a lot of friends and family are excited about President Obama officially taking office. With his campaign based on hope and change and the electorate choosing this message, one could hope that politics is headed in the right direction.

However, with one positive thing come news to balance it out. Portland's new mayor Sam Adams, has admitted to having a relationship with a legislative intern named Beau Breedlove when he was 18. Adams, who was 42 at the time lied about the relationship when asked about it in October 2007 as part of a Willamette Week investigation in the heart of the mayoral race. Additionally, Adams convinced Breedlove to stay quiet and lie about their relationship at the time. Despite Adams and Breedlove both stating he was of legal age at the time of their relationship, there are some questions as to whether Breedlove was 18 when their relationship started, thus bringing into question whether Adams could be criminally prosecuted for the relationship.

This sort of relationship and the lying behind it is wrong no matter who does it and what their orientation is. For someone who stands for all Portlanders, it is inexcusable. On a day of hope and change on a national level, we Portlanders got a local reminder of the lies and deceit that come hand in hand with politics on any level. Personally, as someone who voted for Adams I get another reminder why my political science degree continues to garner dust and another layer of "scar tissue" that has be hopeful but doubtful about the true change any politician can bring.

Brian

Original Willamette Week Article

California International Recap

My marathon experience is coming in two parts: the first is race day itself and the second is the long and winding road I took to get there. CIM Pictures for those interested.

Part I now; Part II hopefully sometime around the New Year.
BD

Part I

Through 18 weeks of training, I was very regimented in my miles, how I ran them, when I ran them etc. Structure was my middle name. However leading up to race day, I had what could best be charitably described as a "framework" of a strategy going into the race. My training left me confident that I could qualify for Boston but with no idea as to how fast I could go without crashing late in the race. As a result, I came up with the following plan:

1. Take the first 10 comfortably, preferably between 7-7:15/mi (thereby "banking time" towards a BQ).
2. Keep a strong tempo throughout the next 10, hopefully right around the pace established in the first 10 miles.
3. Empty the tank in the last 10k.

I wasn't completely sure what these parts would consist of time-wise but knew it would likely land somewhere between 7-7:15 pace. At least that was the hope going into race day itself.

Before that, I had to get to lovely California. I flew down Friday night and stayed with a friend of mine from college, her boyfriend and their two year old daughter. They always tell you to get the best night sleep two nights before the race. I decided to put that to the test via a two year old, a brand new aero bed and three cats. Saturday brought a few realizations: their daughter sleeps really well, cats can be fended off via squirt gun and I'm a bit neurotic in the days leading up to a race. After a leisurely morning and a great Mexican lunch, they took me to my hotel. I hit the lottery of hotel rooms; evidently I'd been upgraded to a suite, complete with HD TV, fridge, etc. Perfect for my plan on laying low and getting a good final night's sleep. The 4:15 wakeup call was going to come way too soon.

My only trip out on the town was to swing by the race expo, confirm my transportation options and grab a bite to eat for dinner. Since I was flying solo at this point, I really didn't feel like waiting for a table and eating a meal out with crowds of people. As a result, I stopped into a local deli and picked up a turkey sandwich for dinner. Not quite a bowl of pre-race pasta but I was fairly harmless and would do. As I made my way back to my room I had the following exchange in the elevator:

Very Fast looking Female Marathoner (VFFM): Is that your pre-race meal?
Me: Yep.
VFFM: What are you having?
Me: Turkey Sandwich.
VFFM: (incredulous look) Is that your normal pre-race meal?
Me: I don't really have a NORMAL meal per se. How about you?
VFFM: Pasta feed with my team. Gotta carb up you know!

Yes, that was the extent of the conversation. But nothing like having someone question your culinary choices 12 hours before you're running a race. Thanks for the support! :)

After a restless night, race day was here. A 4:15 wakeup call was met with me awaking at 4:14 and quickly answering the phone. I got dressed, had my peanut butter and matzoh (pre race meals of HMOTs everywhere) bundled up and headed downstairs. I must have been one of the last people to show up downstairs; that didn't stop me from running into the lady from the night before who asked "how's the turkey sandwich treating you?" Just fine thank you! With that bit of inspiration I was on the bus and headed towards Folsom and the starting line.

The weather on race morning was pretty ideal. Overcast skies and cooler temps made body temperature regulation a given. As a Johnny Cash fan, it was a nice bonus to be standing in the line at the port-a-potties, look up and realize I was looking at Folsom Prison. I got warmed up, had a last bit of gatorade, stretched and was ready to go. However, with this only being my second marathon (the other being 2004 Twin Cities), I once again made the mistake of waiting too late to ditch my clothes and get into the crowd. Subsequently I was stuck around the 3:50 pace group; an improvement of being back with the 4:30 group 4 years ago but still not ideal.

From there though things went surprisingly to plan. I ran comfortably, taking the uphills with equal effort over the first 10 and came through at a 7:04 pace. At about 3 miles I'd caught up to and passed the 3:10 pace group. For a split second I thought about just running with them and then decided that I felt comfortable at my current pace and was better suited to just keep the rhythm I had going. With that feeling pretty good I just kept trucking around that pace for the next 10 (I was only 14 seconds slower over the 2nd 10 miles).

Unlike my training runs (where I was notorious for not carrying water and scrambling for it whenever I could) I took on quite a bit of fluid; in fact for the majority of the race I felt a bit bloated as I'd drank a decent amount before the race itself. (the 19 water stops were definitely helpful as I could just take a cup a stop and not have to power walk/slow down to grab water knowing the next one was just around the corner) However by 20 I was starting to feel a bit "normal" again physically. The most notable part of the race through 20 was the man in his 50s who was doing what could only be charitably described as a "white man dance" to "Whoomp, There It Is" right at Mile 20. Disturbing and not what one needs when one might be trying to confirm the lack of hallucinations to that point!

The last 10k was a great challenge. In large part due to the one 24 mile run I'd done with a local group of runners who were shooting for sub 3:00, I wasn't worried about the mental aspects of the distance, I was more worried about whether I'd physically hold up. Instead I was able to ratchet up my pace 5-10 sec a mile over the last 10k. This included a final burst in the last mile created by someone walking across the street in front of me with their Schitzu, causing me to swerve, let off an internal wtf! and run just that little bit harder. It was a great feeling though in the last 10k to keep doing the math as I got closer and closer as to what the slowest time I could run to still get in under 3:10. When I hit 24 or 25 (can't remember which) and realized I could walk in, it really started to feel real. Finally, with the 0.2 to go I looked at my watch and realized I had a chance to break 3:05 so let it fly down the homestretch @6:19 pace to get in 6 seconds under the wire. I was able to negative split the race (in large part due to the advice gained from the Louis, Bill, Tim & Steve, the sub 3:00 guys I ran with) by almost 2 minutes (1:33:25-1:31:29).

Qualifying for Boston has been one of those life goals of mine so to achieve it feels really, really good. I can't wait to run Boston in 2010 and fulfill the other half of that goal. I told Becca that I split my motivations for the race into three parts: I spent the first 10 thinking about the baby to be, the next 10 thinking about her and the final 10k was a challenge/gift to myself for the ups and downs for the past two years. However at the end of the day, Becca was at the top of my mind the entire race. She has given me the support I needed to make this happen. I'm sure she's looking forward to having me back around the house a little more and to finally get working on that nursery that we're going to need by late March.

For the race geeks, below are my splits. As Becca said, I could always audition to be a metronome at some point :)

Brian

My splits:

Here's the short version:

Final Chip Time: 3:04:54
1st Half: 1:33:25
2nd Half: 1:31:29

Place: 321/5189

The down and dirty data:

1-7:23
2-7:04
3-6:56
4-6:53
5-6:59
6-6:57
7-7:04
8-7:02
9-7:10
10-7:01
11-7:04
12-7:07
13-7:03
14-7:00
15-7:04
16-7:08
17-6:57
18-7:08
19-7:04
20-7:08
21-6:59
22-6:59
23-6:52
24-6:56
25-6:58
26-6:57
0.2-6:19 pace for last 0.2 (or by garmin's estimation 0.33... doh!)

Ode to Brouwer's

Becca and I took advantage of a work trip last week to go up to Seattle, visit friends and hang out downtown. It was a great opportunity for both of us to decompress and celebrate a good 2008 and hope for a fantastic 2009. As part of the fun, Sunday we took the bus and headed up into the artistic Fremont neighborhood. We'd been given a recommendation to visit Brouwer's. It's a Flemish-inspired cafe that promoted its wide selection of Belgian beers and tasty food.


Needless to say from the picture above, it did not disappoint. The leather bound bottled beer list included SIX pages of Belgian beers. With these many choices, paralysis was bound to take hold so I left the choice in the hands of my handy waiter. A St. Bernardus Abt 12 and St. Bernardus Christmas Ale, coupled with a Croque Monsieur and Belgian frites (with mayo, naturally) left me very happy. The third seasonal ale I had though left me ruing the 10.5% alcohol content of all three beers. Dude. However nothing a few more frites couldn't take care of.

In short it was a fantastic place to enjoy top notch beer and frites and heaven for someone like me currently taking a break from the training bandwagon. The added bonus is that I found out it is located less than a mile from my friend Mark's place.

With that, I'd like to honor Brouwer's with a Davis Haiku:

Seattle's Fremont
Brings Belgian Beers and Pommes Frites
Too Much Temptation

Brian

Becca found her Seattle nirvana via a slightly different indulgence:




I actually considered getting the 5 kg(!) jar of Nutella for her (look at those puppy dog eyes) but in the end was too afraid of emerging one morning to find her passed out in chocolate-hazelnut coma, spoon still in her hand....

Good God

And here I thought Portland was beyond hokey people in horrible holiday sweaters telling me the weather.

Monday's weather forecast

I stand corrected. Thankfully the Storm of the Century (i.e. a normal Minnesota winter day) is coming by Wednesday to increase the entertainment level.

Brian

Peaking at just the right time

Back to writing. Hoping to have a lot more time to write as a lot of things in my life reach a peak.

First and foremost, my MBA education is two classes and one final away from its conclusion. This past Monday I (hopefully) successfully presented and defended my final project. As Becca can attest, this project took up an inordinate amount of time over the past 14 weeks but 41 pages, 20 PowerPoint slides and a 15 minute presentation later, my primary research on customer satisfaction for a local Portland firm is complete and if do say so myself, not half bad. I'm not the greatest public speaker by any stretch of the imagination but my final presentation was one of the first times I've felt truly comfortable up speaking in front of a group. Heck, I even transitioned to the wrong slide and was comfortable enough to quickly shift the topic, address the "new" slide and continue to move right along (the issue with shifting the order the day before the final presentation). I can definitely point towards this as one of the things that my MBA program has helped me the most with. Doing group projects and having to get up in front of people to present findings has definitely helped me become more comfortable with speaking outside of my more comfortable areas of 1-1 or small groups.

I'll likely have more to reflect on once I'm done with the program but getting my MBA has been a bit of a mixed bag. My classmates have been great; while some have put a greater effort than others into the program everyone is there to learn and when push comes to shove are willing to put in the time and effort to be successful. Now the amount of time or effort largely depends on how challenging our professors are. With Willamette's Portland program being a relatively new program, teaching quality has been a bit of a mixed bag. As a result, unless properly challenged the class as a whole tended to step up (or down) to the quality of professor. Additionally, with the program being new our class have had to deal with the program not always being well organized from certain perspectives. For example, as a student I should not have to be proactively asking for information regarding our final project in the weeks before we're supposed to start.

There's a part of me that wishes I'd tried to apply to the upper echelon business schools. But life is about choices; Becca and I had made ours to live in Portland and haven't regretted it one bit. With a new nephew here, another on the way plus our own baby 16 weeks away from joining us we're very happy to be here and within spitting distance of the family. And the program has allowed me to learn quite a bit, challenge myself in places, learn across a number of fields what constitutes good customer service, meet some very great people who I plan on staying in touch with and potentially even help me come up with a business idea or two. So with a slight tinge of what could have been, I finish my MBA program this Tuesday. Exciting stuff.

With one major mental milestone comes an accompanying physical one. I leave in about 7 hours to fly down to Sacramento and run the California International Marathon. Late in the summer during my effort to get in shape for Hood to Coast, I decided that now was as good a time as any to train for a marathon. Unlike my effort in the 2004 Twin Cities Marathon, my goal this time is not simply to finish. My primary goal is to qualify for the Boston Marathon (since I'd be running it in 2010, my qualifying time is 3:15). My 20 mile training runs have been around this pace so I feel good about my chances of hitting this number. However, come race day it can be a completely different story. With a net downhill course however, I wouldn't be surprised if I make it well under the 3:15 number. For now I get to settle for being edgy physically due my tapering my mileage, neurotically mentally as i check and recheck my packing list and just generally ready to be done so I can start drinking beer and eating fried foods again.

The one constant through all of this? The support of Becca. She's been my absolute rock providing me everything from in depth counsel on my MBA work to chocolate milk and bagels after my Sunday long runs. Come Wednesday morning, I'm all hers again. And sweetie? I promise to start working on the nursery on Wednesday :)

Off to go catch a flight and run fast. More from the other side.

BD

A look back: Taishan, China

We told this anecdote a couple years ago as part of a longer story about a whirlwind trip from Beijing to Taishan that provided us with several "cultural moments." You can check out the longer story in context here. Meanwhile, Brian had captured the moment from his perspective for a class assignment last night and we figured we'd share it again.

Life teaches many lessons. 10 minutes in a Chinese train station taught me that sometimes, you have to embrace the local culture and dive in headfirst.

My wife and I had arrived at Taishan station after a long 24 hours; a night train followed by a nine-mile hike that had a 9000-foot total altitude change. Our reward? Dead legs, and another night train complete with rice bags in the aisle, unfiltered cigarettes in the air and about 100 of our closest Chinese friends to every side.

We stood in a line at the departure gate, waiting to board. Yes, a line. My personal need for order was fulfilled for the first time during our Chinese travels. I was skeptical but feeling positive that for the first time in our time there, I might be rewarded with an American sense of order.

A second later… it was gone. So was anybody whose ticket had been checked, sprinting down the platform. With legs like jello and resigned to our fate, we limped to the platform. Amoebas were forming on the platform, waiting for the train.

Bam. The train is here. The amoebas turn to anarchy as 50+ people frantically try to push and shove their way onto our train car. We suddenly were worried about not being able to get on the train at all. Becca noticed the opposite side of the carriage opening up and ran down to tackle the smaller crowd. I saw her disappear at the door and with the hope she was on the train, I went to work.

Now I consider myself a gentleman. I may not always have the most refined of tastes but I was raised in a midwestern family. I still hold the door for women, say please and thank you and in general behave like the Boy Scout I used to be.

It was tough being in China to that point. Cultural difference in behavior had left me with an opinion of people as rude. However, as I looked up at the crowd in front of me, I knew I had to get on that train.

I tightened my pack straps, and charged into the crowd. I started plowing through people and was towards the front of the line when I got knocked off balance. I look to my left and there is an 80-year-old grandmother blowing by me.

My first thought? It’s go time. I got right behind her and grabbed the rails on both sides of the train. I lifted myself up and over the grandmother, and onto the top step of the train.

You know what? No one even flinched. I may be a Boy Scout but sometimes it’s more important to be a local.

Brian

Our Turn

After many years of being the cool friends who enjoy everybody else’s kids (and after a couple of months of practice being the new aunt and uncle) it’s really nice to be able to share the news that it’s our turn now.

The little bundle of chaos arrives the end of March, 2009.

We’re happy.

B&B

Brian hopes the little one will hang around long enough to be an April Fool’s baby, thereby fulfilling the prophecy (which led to much back pedaling and apologizing and subsequent exile)