motivation | The Penguin Chronicles

Looking for Adventure

Posted on June 12, 2013 by John J Bingham

I should mention this at the very beginning. This edition of the Penguin Chronicles has little to do with running – in an absolute sense. It has to do with looking for, and finding, a means of expressing one’s self, one’s joy, one’s desire for some unique experience that defines a moment in one’s life. Come to think of it, maybe it does have something to do with running.

For the past week, Jenny and I have been exploring the Great Smokey Mountains on dual-purpose motorcycles. When my son, Terry, was young he and I did a lot of this kind of riding. The bikes are smallish, the challenges different than those that you find on the roads, and the satisfaction is immense. While Jenny is an accomplished road motorcyclist, this was her first real exposure to dual purpose riding

The plan was simple. Jenny contacted Dan and Debbie of GSM Motorent , arranged to rent a cabin and get some advice on places to ride in the area. What we got was much more than we could have expected. Dan was an old-school motorcyclist that I felt like I had known my entire life, and Debbie made us feel like friends who had stopped by for a visit. It was perfect.

The first afternoon we did a combination of on and off road riding to get a feel for the bikes and the area. The next morning, armed with one of Dan’s route lists we took off to find the checkpoints on the 185 mile route. Our first mistake was forgetting the very detailed maps that Dan had suggested we get. Undaunted, we took on the challenge with nothing but the checkpoints, dead reckoning, a GPS, and our own skills.

Everything went well until we missed a checkpoint and followed a trail that led deeper and deeper into to woods. After about an hour of searching out every Jeep trail and deer path in the area we did what every experienced navigator does; we went back to the last place where we knew were were right.

We found ourselves back on the course and after a quick lunch we headed back into to mountain. Our navigation was dead on and we were having a great time finding the marked and unmarked trails. And then we came to the creek. Or at least it was supposed to be a creek. It was a raging river. Too deep to cross on foot let alone with motorcycles.

By then is was late afternoon and we knew that we’d be losing the light soon. Under the heavy canopy it was already getting dark. We couldn’t go on. We didn’t have a map to figure out another way around the obstacle. And we were running out of daylight. We had no choice but to backtrack for nearly two hours.

Jenny went in to full “adventure racer” mode and flogged her Yamaha. She rode fast and well. She led with complete confidence. I was hanging on for dear life. After a couple of serious “seat puckering moments” we made it back to the gravel roads and eventually to the pavement, and ultimately to the cabin 12 hours and 225 miles after we had started.

We spent the next two days riding around and through the park, on and off road, experiencing great roads, beautiful scenery, and wonderful people.

In the end I learned a very important lesson. At 64 years-old, I’m too young to not be adventurous. But, at 64, I’m too old to be foolish. That’s not always an easy line to find and too often an easy line to cross. Kind of like a mountain trail in the middle of the Smokies.

Waddle on, friends.

John

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What others are saying: Looking for some motivation to start running and improve your fitness? You’re sure to find some inspiration from John Bingham’s new memoir, “An Accidental Athlete.” As an overweight, uninspired pack-and-a-half-a-day smoker, Bingham realized that he had to make some changes in his life and began running at the age of 43. With wit and humor, Bingham recounts his journey from couch potato to self-proclaimed “adult on-set athlete.”– ESPN Gear Guide

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A Champion: By Definition

Posted on June 5, 2013 by John J Bingham

The Rock ‘n’ Roll Marathon and Half Marathon in San Diego is the original, and in many ways is still the signature event of the RnR Series. I’ve been there every year it’s been held so my history and the event’s history run in parallel.

Since it’s in San Diego the stars of the running community tend to come out. This weekend I was on stage with Jim Ryun, Rod Dixon, Steve Scott, Meb Keflezighi, Josh Cox, and Deena Kastor. Talk about an all-star line up.

The Sub-4 Seminar with Jim Ryun, first high-schooler to run a sub-4 marathon and STILL the only high school junior to ever run under 4 minutes, Steve Scott, who has run more sub-4 minute miles [136] than anyone in history, and Rod Dixon, who has run 53 sub-4 minute miles and – oh by the way – later won the New York City Marathon was fascinating.

I asked the each to describe how they would have raced – and beaten – the others if they could have raced at the height of their careers. It turns out that Dixon was a strength runner and would have pushed the pace early to gain an advantage, Ryun had an amazing 400 meter kick and felt that if he was close he could go by on the last lap, and Scott was just really, REALLY good at racing the mile.

Meb is moving back to San Diego, from Mammoth, to be closer to family and to co-own running specialty stores in the city. He also didn’t competely dismiss the idea of another shot at an Olympic team.

Josh is – well – Josh. He is one of the brightest, most affable athletes I have even known. He gives great information in a way that easily understood by the average athlete. It’s always fun to sit on stage with him.

deena_kastor_london

But it was Deena that left me with a thought that will haunt and inspire me for some time. She told the story of her coach telling her before a big race to simply “define yourself.” Define yourself. What a formidable task, for a runner and for an individual.

How do we define ourselves in small and large ways every day? Are we impatient with people? Are we impatient with ourselves. Are we forgiving? Do we ask more of ourselves than is necessary. Do we care, love, cherish the people who care for, love, and cherish us.

I know that the original context for Deena was that particular race. In talking to her, though, it became obvious that she has reflected on the question on her life as a woman, a wife, a mother, and an athlete.

Too often, I think, we tend to see great athletes like Deena as being only that; an athlete. What I learned from Deena is that whether we are at a starting line, deep into a difficult race, or standing in line at the grocery store, we have the opportunity all day, every day, to define ourselves.

And that knowledge, more than talent and dedication and speed, is what makes Deena Kastor a champion.

Waddle on, friends.

John

UPDATE: I should have known. As I said, it’s like the first microwave. Now that I have books to listen to, guess what? I listen to them every chance I get. I listened on the plane flying to San Diego – and back. I listen while I was relaxing after the race. I even listened while I was falling asleep – which – is VERY cool to have someone read you a bedtime story when you’re 64 years old.

You can get more information at: Audible.com

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Old Dog, New Tricks

Posted on May 29, 2013 by John J Bingham

I’ve never thought of myself as an old-school runner. I’m certainly not as hide-bound as the nylon shorts guys who either run bare chested or wear their washed out club singlet. I haven’t always embraced the newest technology. I didn’t like knowing how far I’d run, or how fast [or slow] so wearing a GPS took some convincing. I never wanted to know my heart-rate because I didn’t have any idea what the numbers meant. And, since listening to my heart for signs of trouble was a full-time task I wasn’t keen to listening to music while I ran.

All of that has changed. Now, twenty years into my running life I find that the act of running – and now walking a fair amount – has become such a natural part of who I am that I’m willing to relax and enjoy the experience in new ways.

I like wearing a GPS watch. The nice folks are Garmin were kind enough to give me an XT310. It’s got a big enough screen for me to see and enough bells and whistles to keep me informed and entertained. It’s also been great for running in strange cities. The ability to find my way back to the hotel has saved me more than once.

Like so many people, my iPhone has become a constant companion. It’s been a little like my first microwave. I didn’t think I’d use it until I started to use it. Now, on my phone, I have access to email and social media and music and a flashlight and alarm clock. If you’ve got one, you know what I mean.

I am a voracious reader. Unfortunately I’ve never figured out a way to read while running. Until now. Last week I was introduced the Audible.com. And I’m hooked.

With my travel schedule – and living in Chicago – it’s not unusual for me to be doing half of my weekly workouts on a treadmill. You can only watch so many reruns of “The Andy Griffith Show” or listen to your favorite Paul Simon songs before you’re ready for something else. That something else, for me, has been listening to books on Audible.com

Without sounding too 60’s transcendental, there has been an interesting mind/body connection while listening to books. I’m engaged mindfully by listening and engaged physically by walking or running. It’s not that the two are completely separate, but I do find that as I get more deeply involved in the book I am less focused – in a positive way – to the time I’m exercising.

So, I guess it is possible to teach an old dog new tricks. Who knew??

Waddle on, friends.

John

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The Perfect Run

Posted on May 22, 2013 by John J Bingham

Yes folks, that’s me. Check the date. May 21, 1995. Nearly exactly 18 years ago today. The race was the Memphis in May Triathlon, and I was “getting it done”. I was also, just for the record, nearly dead last.

I wasn’t much of a swimmer. The swim course was a giant triangle marked by buoys. The buoys were connected by rope. I was such a lousy swimmer that I was actually faster by pulling myself along on the rope than trying to swim. This did not prevent me from being swatted and kicked and nearly drowned by other competitors.

I was a pretty fair bicyclist. That is to say I didn’t suck as badly on the bike as I did on the swim. Once I was on the bike I was able to have fun. I didn’t have a very fancy bike, but I could ride with, and sometime pass, other competitors. To be fair, I wasn’t passing anyone in my age or gender category. No. Most of them were much older.

Then there was the run. Being nearly last at the beginning of the run did not bode well for my finishing position. Despite the look of effort, the flash frozen form, and the very cool sunglasses, in the photo I am probably running flat out at about a 10:30 pace.

Given all that, you’d think that I would have been discouraged. As always, most everyone else had gone home by the time I finished. As always, there was a very small group of friends waiting for me at the finish line. And they were only there because I had the keys to the van.

And, like always, I was as happy as I could be. I had done it. I had finished an Olympic distance triathlon all by myself and was still upright and didn’t need medical attention. No gold medal could have made me feel better.

When people approach me now – I am older, heavier, slower – they incorrectly assume that I have no memories to look back on. I do. I have many. Memphis is May is only one. I have memories of great days, of pure effort, of good planning and execution, and unadulterated satisfaction. I have it all.

The difference for me is that all of those moments, all of those moments are solely and uniquely mine. I didn’t have to share them with anyone else because, in truth, a middle-aged man finishing nearly last in a triathlon isn’t very interesting. Unless, of course, you’re that midde-aged man.

Waddle on, friends.

John

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The Soul of the Planet

Posted on April 11, 2013 by John J Bingham

I suppose all of us have a place where we feel most at peace. I know I spent a lot of years looking for that one spot on earth where my rhythms and the rhythms of the universe were in synch.

I found moments when there was harmony; literally and figuratively. Once, while performing the Berlioz Requiem with the National Symphony, as part of the antiphonal brass choir, I felt as though I had been transported to some magical place. The music around me combined with my own music, was transcendent. They were also ephemeral. When the final chord faded, so did the feeling.

Once, on a deserted two-lane road late on a pitch-black night, I felt as though the motorcycle that I was riding had become an extension of my being. I was traveling much faster that should have, I was focused on nothing else but the outer edge of the beam from the headlight, and the deadly silence was disturbed only by sound of the engine. Slowing down as I approached the next town, though, the moment ended.

Then, there’s Antarctica. And, in my case, the Antarctica Marathon and Half Marathon. If I posted 100 photos of Antarctica I could never capture the vastness. I couldn’t capture it even knowing that I’ve only seen a tiny fraction of that vastness. Antarctica is, without question, the most humbling place on earth. In 7 trips to the lost continent I’ve never known anyone to come away untouched.

For some it’s the stark and endless beauty. For others it’s the wildlife. It’s being followed by the legendary Wandering Albatross, or watching hundreds of penguins being – well – penguins, or having a giant Humpback whale stick his head out of the water just feet in front of your kayak. None of it, not one minute of it, is normal. Every second is extraordinary.

I’ve never been to Mount Everest. Never will. But, I understand the draw to the highest place on earth. Standing on the summit you are as close to the heavens as you can get. In Antarctica, for me at least, you are standing at the center of the soul of the planet. For all the danger, for all the unforgiving elements, there is – for me – an eerie sense of being absolutely safe.

When I am there I am connected to something much greater than I can comprehend. It is a higher power beyond my understanding. And the message I hear is that despite all my worrying and fretting and planning and disappointment, everything is OK.

Waddle on, friends.

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Facebook Friend-see

Posted on March 10, 2013 by John J Bingham

When Facebook first come into the national consciousness I had no idea what it was or what it could do. I couldn’t even figure out how to get an account so I hired a recent college graduate, a 20-something computer whiz, to establish my Facebook presence. He created two pages; a John Bingham page [Facebook/jjbingham] and a “Penguin” page [Facebook/john the penguin bingham] What I didn’t know then was that the personal page, John Bingham, allowed people to “friend” you. The “penguin” page only allowed people to “like” you. And, as you know, you are limited to 5,000 Facebook friends, a threshold I hit pretty early on.

Not, I must confess, because I actually have 5,000 friends. I just didn’t understand how it all worked; when someone send a friend request I eagerly accepted it.

This morning when I opened my Facebook page and saw the collection of “friends” photos I was astonished at what an elegant, if somewhat bizarre, snapshot it was of my life. So, for those of you who are curious, this is who they are: From the top, left to right.

Linda Raymond: My son’s mother and my first wife. I met her when I was 17.
Nancy Stutsman, AKA “theQueen”: An old motorcycling musician friend. We’ve been friends since I was in my 20’s.
Martha Raymond: My son’s stepfather’s sister. We met when I was in my 30’s.
Peter Jacob: The service manager at my local BMW dealership. We’ve argued a bunch but share a passion for motorcycles and good Scotch.
Pat Raymond: My son’s stepfather and one of my oldest friends. We share a long-standing love of motorcycles and a new-found love of our grandchildren.
Jan Loichle: My high-school girlfriend that I haven’t seen or talked to in 45 years. She was the first, and only, girlfriend that convinced me to wear a “steady” sweater.
Evan Wert. A newer friend in the running industry. We discovered early on that we’d rather talk about fast cars then about pronation.
Howard Gould. My son’s mother’s younger brother. I met him when he was 8 or 9 years old.
Michael Sardo: My cousin/nephew. I’ve known him his entire life, through the awkward transition from child to Marine to Chicago Police officer to father. VERY proud of him.

What do all these people in common? Me, I guess. I’m sure, though, that if each of them were to describe the “me” that they knew they would be very different “me’s”. Jan would remember the high school John the drove his sports car inside the school. [that’s not Jan in the photo]

The “Queen” would remember a pretty decent bass trombone player who could “wheelie” any motorcycle ever made including a full-dress Yamaha XS1100.

Howard would remember a Steve McQueen wannabe who showed up at his parent’s home on a Honda 305 Scrambler. I don’t know how cool he thought I was, but I know how cool I THOUGHT I was.

Michael would remember an uncle that took him camping for the first time and explained that the bathroom was a stand of trees. Years later as a young Marine in Desert Shield, I’m sure a nice tree would have been welcomed.

Pat Raymond would remember working together at Cycles Incorporated and a time when riding was as important as breathing. He might remember 3 guys sleeping in a two-man tent in the rain. [that’s Pat with our oldest grandson at the MotoGP race at Indianapolis. In the backround is my son and younger grandson with our buddy John]

In the end, though, this snapshot brings more memories to me than to any of them. It is a reminder of how far I’ve come, how difficult that path has been at times, how important certain people have been in my life whether they were there for a few months or 40 years, and of how fortunate I’ve been to have ever been able to call each of them “friend.”

It may be my age speaking, because the theme song from Golden Girls is ringing in my ears. I’d to say to every one of them: “Thank you for being a friend.”

John

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The Chicken and the Pig

Posted on February 6, 2013 by John J Bingham

My old buddy Coach Roy Benson had a simple way of explaining the difference between involvement and commitment. He would say that when you think of a breakfast of bacon and eggs, the chicken is involved, the pig is committed. With apologies to my Vegan friends, it certainly sums it up.

I hear lots of talk about how today’s runners aren’t as committed to the sport as were the runners in the 70’s or 80’s. Today’s runners are criticized for not being willing to put in the time and miles.

I hear that they’re only involved in the events and the travel and the social aspects, that they just want to have fun, to enjoy a healthy active lifestyle without paying their dues. Really?

I have exercised in some fashion for over 20 years. I’ve been a runner, a walker, a duathlete, a triathlete, an adventure racer, kayaker, swimmer, and cyclist. And I haven’t been very good at any of them. And – I’ve enjoyed every minute of every day that I’ve been active. To say that I’m not committed, that I’m just involved, is pure poppycock.

Now, it’s true that there were years in my life where I was able to be more committed to competing. Especially in the early years when every race distance and every race experience was new I spent more time planning, training, and racing. I’d spend hours creating elaborate training schedules based on what I viewed as the best of what was available, and I’d commit to getting in the training no matter what.

That “no matter what” often included an ache or a pain or an injury. I was committed. I couldn’t miss a workout or my whole training strategy would fall apart. Or so I thought. In my commitment I was stressed out and often disappointed that I wasn’t improving more quickly.

At some point I began to worry less about my level of commitment and more about my level of joy. It occurred to me that I wouldn’t keep doing the things that I enjoyed if I took all the joy out of the activities.

My commitment never changed. What changed was how I expressed that commitment. What also changed was that I remembered what I got started with all this in the first place; to have fun.

Waddle on, friends.

You can follow me on Twitter: @jjbingham

and on Facebook: @john thepenguin bingham

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The Well Lubricated Runner

Posted on January 31, 2013 by John J Bingham

Years ago I worked with a crusty, old [like maybe 40!] Scottish motorcycle mechanic named Stewart. His brogue and the fact that he had lost one leg below the knee in a motorcycle accident made him seem more like a pirate than a master mechanic.

He used to fill the junior mechanics, me among them, with his hard-earned words of wisdom. The one that remains with me all these years later was: “If it CAN be lubricated it NEEDS to be lubricated and if it CAN be adjusted it NEEDS to be adjusted.”

He had one other simple explanation for the mysteries of the mechanical world. “If it moves and shouldn’t, use duct tape [DUCT, not duck]. If it doesn’t move and it should, use WD-40.” You’d be amazed at how often that’s all you need to know.

In some ways life as a runner – or walker or cyclist or any of 100’s of other activities – is almost that simple. If it hurts you’re doing too much. If it doesn’t hurt, you’re not doing enough. If you think about it, it’s pretty much all you need to know about training. Too much, something hurts. Too little, it doesn’t feel like you’re doing anything at all.

Unlike the mechanic’s dilemma, the athlete’s dilemma is much more nuanced. If a little training feels good then most of us believe that more training will feel even better. If we start seeing progress in our training by doing speed work one day a week then we’re sure we’ll progress twice as fast if we do two sessions a week.

On the other hand, if we’re feeling achy and sore and know we need to take time off we’re never sure exactly how much rest is enough and how much is too much. And nothing that we experienced previously can help us decide. As George Sheehan wrote, “We are all an experiment of one.”

The best we can do is use the time-honored method of trial and error. We’ll get it right sometimes. We’ll get it wrong sometimes. All that matters is that we keep trying to figure it out.

Even Stewart couldn’t argue with that.

Waddle on, friends.

John

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For the Love of Running

Posted on January 24, 2013 by John J Bingham

I suppose a little context for this photo would help. On the left, as you look at the photo, is Frank Shorter. In the center is Steve Scott and on the right – waving his hands – is Rod Dixon. They are all legends in their own right if for no other reason than that they are Olympians. But they are so much more than that. And what they’ve been able to accomplish as athletes is no less astonishing now than it was when they were at the peak of their careers.

Rod, the flying Kiwi, a New Zealander, has been called by some the most complete and versatile runner of all time. He had world records, or competed at the world-class level, at every distance from 800 meters to winning the 1983 New York City Marathon. Steve Scott has run more sub-4 minute miles [136] than anyone in history has – or will. And Frank Shorter is known mostly for his 1972 Gold Medal victory in the Olympic Marathon and bringing long-distance running into the mainstream.

For each of them what they would consider their glory years are far behind. That’s not to take anything away from their great careers and accomplishments, only to suggest that for them – for me – and for most of us it isn’t just about the glory. It’s about the activity. It’s about running and walking. The joy is in the movement, in the finding out, in the surprises that are always lurking in the shadows.

Frank Shorter summed it up. He contends that there is an activity that suits each of us. It could be running, walking, swimming, biking, or any of a hundred other activities. Our challenge is to find that activity that feels best, the one that makes our bodies and our souls feel connected, the one that frees our minds from the constraints of mental aspects of the activity and frees us to simply move.

Even though I started moving later in life, I discovered almost immediately that I liked walking, and running, and cycling. When I was participating in triathlons I tried to like swimming but it never worked. I understand why people like it. I just don’t.

I feel very lucky to have discovered an activity that I can do for the rest of my life. Frank and Rod won’t win any more Olympic medals. Steve will never run another sub-4 minute mile. For them, for me, for you – I hope – it doesn’t matter. We can move.

Waddle on, friends.

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I’m not ignorning you. I just don’t know where your message is.

Posted on January 14, 2013 by John J Bingham

I was a very early adopter to email. In 1984, when I was an administrator at School of Music at The University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign, I had an email address. The only other person I knew that had an email address was the Director of Graduate Admissions. His office was one floor above mine. Since we only had each other to email it wasn’t hard to keep up with my messages.

I was also an early adopter to AOL. Yes, I heard it thousands of times: “You’ve got mail.” I thought I was just about the coolest guy on the planet. I had a modem and I could dial in from anywhere. I could even set the modem to automatically pull mail in the middle of the night so that I could sit in front of the computer with my first cup of coffee.

By the early 2000’s I was getting email messages all day every day. And because the internet was global, so were the emails. I remember my mom being surprised that I got emails “over night.” She didn’t grasp that on the internet there is no night and day, just a continuous stream of data.

Then came domain names and email boxes. Then came email services. Suddenly I had messages scattered across several email addresses [thepenguin@johnbingham.com, john@johnbingham.com, jjbingham@earthlink.net to name just three that are still active] In addition to my AOL account [anyone remember RWPenguin@AOL.com?] I had a Yahoo account and others that I can’t even remember. I had Yahoo groups and the Penguin Brigade listserv. And that was before Google, Facebook, and Twitter.

Now, I have messages coming at me from all directions. There are 3 Facebook accounts [jjbingham, johnthepenguinbingham, and 100dayschallenge] that I personally monitor. There are all the event Facebook accounts. There’s the Twitter account. And, of course, the routine emails.

So, if you’ve emailed me, or messaged me, or IM’ed me, or Tweeted me, or anything else I you haven’t heard back from me, please don’t take it personally. I’m not ignoring you. I just don’t know where your message is.

Waddle on, friends.

You can follow me on Twitter: @jjbingham and on Facebook: @johnthepenguinbingham

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A Champion: By Definition

Old Dog, New Tricks

The Perfect Run

The Soul of the Planet

Facebook Friend-see

The Chicken and the Pig

The Well Lubricated Runner

For the Love of Running

I’m not ignorning you. I just don’t know where your message is.

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