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    He's been called the Pied Piper of the Second Running Boom. Once an overweight couch potato with a glut of bad habits, including smoking and drinking, at the age of 43 Bingham looked mid-life in the face—and started running.

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Anzio

The father of a very good friend of mine, let’s call him Bob, was a great guy, and a World War II Army veteran. We joked that he lived his life just 3 beers from Anzio. Anzio was the site of an Allied forces landing (Operation Shingle) and ensuing battle (known as the Battle of Anzio) during World War II. American forces (5th Army) were surrounded by Germans in the caves of Pozzoli in February 1944 for a week, suffering heavy casualties. We knew that when he popped the top off the fourth Pabst Blue Ribbon we were going to start hearing war stories.

I don’t know how old he was then. I was 18 or 19. My guess is, though, that he was then a lot younger than I am now. And I’m beginning to understand. Although I don’t drink Pabst Blue Ribbon [I did drink more than my share] I’ve become aware now that I’m well into my 60’s that I am often tempted to start telling personal war stories or stories about the good old days.

It starts innocently enough. Someone mentions a place, or an event, or a situation and it triggers some memory. I do my best to quietly listen while my mind races around my own experience. I doesn’t matter if it was a pleasant or unpleasant experience. Once my mind goes into that cave there’s no getting it back.

I see this most often around my grandchildren. Even though they are only 5 and 6 years old I somehow believe that I need to bring them up-to-date on the historical nuances of my life. Sentences that begin with “Did grandpa ever tell you about” are already met with rolling eyes. It’s only going to get worse as they, and I, get older.

There’s a t-shirt that reads “The older I get, the better I used to be”. For runners it should read “The older I get, the faster I used to be”. For the most part, it’s true. For most of us the fastest years of our running lives were the youngest years. Even if, like me, you didn’t start until you were a bit older you were still younger than you are now.

And maybe it’s OK. Maybe as we get older the stories that stay in the front of our minds are the ones we want to remember that most and the ones that we want to tell most often.

So the next time you start telling a story that no one seems to want to hear, think about Bob. In the end he wasn’t telling us about Anzio, he was telling us about himself.

Waddle on,

John

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What others are saying: Read your book, loved it, it was wonderful. It made me laugh, it made me cry. In it I saw glimpses of myself. I may be old  and I may be slow, but I am an Athlete, I am a Competitor, I am a Runner! Wow, thanks John, for enabling me to see that! D W, Senior-Onset Athlete

John “the Penguin” Bingham, Competitor Magazine columnist
Author, The Courage to Start,No Need for Speed, Marathoning for Mortals and Running for Mortals.

Order your copy of John’s NEW book An Accidental Athlete today.

Have a question for John? Write him.

A Historic Ride

There’s an old adage that says “You can’t step in the same river twice.” The philosophical position is that a river is always changing. As a life-long motorcyclist I would add that you can’t ride the same road twice. Neither you nor the road are the same.

This is certainly been the case for me. US Rt. 50 runs East-West across the center of the United States from Annapolis to Sacramento. I’ve ridden every mile of it East to West once, and have ridden bits and pieces of it many times over the past 40 years. One of my favorite stretches is from Clarksburg, West Virginia through Romney, West Virginia, on to Winchester, Virginia. Riding that road on a new bike is a form of initiation. If a motorcycles handles well and makes me smile on that part of Rt. 50 then I know the bike’s a keeper.

Before the Interstate Highway System made traveling long distances by car accessible to almost everyone, it was only the brave and adventurous spirits who dared to take off from, say Chicago with the goal of getting to Los Angeles. That road, US Rt. 66 is probably the most famous U.S. highway, but it isn’t the most beautiful or most interesting. Nearly every highway that starts with a U.S. has got a history and nearly all of them are worth riding or driving.

This year Coach Jenny and I set off  headed East from Chicago to meet up with my son and grandchildren for some well-earned vacation time and the celebration of my son’s 40th birthday. Unlike most trips where the “getting there” was the least important element, this trip we made getting there, and getting back, one of the highlights. Heading East we traveled on US 35 and 50. Heading back West we traveled on US 30, known as the Lincoln Highway, US 40, known as the National Road, and US 6, known as  the Grand Army of the Republic Highway. We spent a little time on US 250 which, depending on where you are, is either a North-South highway or an East-West highway. Good luck with the GPS.

There is an entire country of small towns and of people out there living along those roads that you’ll never see from the Interstates. Some of these towns and people are flourishing. Most are not. A few have found ways to keep themselves viable. Most just seem to be waiting for the inevitable. You know the old joke: will the last person leaving town please turn out the lights.

In case you’re wondering, yes, I kept up my streak. I’m at 194 days of moving, intentionally, for 30 minutes or more. And yes, some days it was exactly 30 minutes.

But we moved, intentionally, for hundreds of miles every day for no particular reason except it was what we wanted to be doing. Sounds a lot like what  running and walking or any other activity should be.

Waddle on,

John
John “the Penguin” Bingham, Competitor Magazine columnist
Author, The Courage to Start,No Need for Speed, Marathoning for Mortals and Running for Mortals.

Order your EARLY copy of John’s NEW book An Accidental Athlete today.

Have a question for John? Write him.

White Line Fever

I’m taking a few days off to vacation with my family and to celebrate my son’s 40th birthday. I’ll be back next week with a brand new blog. In the meantime, please enjoy this classic.

http://www.teampenguin.com/chronicles_archive/20011029_white_line_fever.php

What to do now?

Ever notice how the simplest ideas can blow up in your face? You know, sometimes what seems like a quiet idea, something that will attract no attention and create no personal problems develops a life of its own and you find yourself hanging on to the tiger’s tail?

To review; I was injured for nearly the entire year of 2010. It started in January with a slipped sacroiliac joint. A failed injection then a SUPER injection and I was able to run and walk comfortably. Then came the cuboid subluxation syndrome, which I created on a motorcycle trip and then aggravated for months by running on it. By December I was ready to get back at it. I missed being active.

So, I challenged myself and my Facebook friends and fans to join me in committing to 30 minutes of intentional movement every day for 100 days. And, much to my surprise over 10,000 people joined up. Now we’re on to the 100 Days of Summer which is more about play than intentional movement. And here’s my problem.

I did the 100 days. I nailed it. Every day. 30 minutes at LEAST. For 100 days. Then, on day 101 I kept going. And on day 102 and 103 and 104. You get the idea. It’s now day 180 and, you guessed it, I’m still going. I’m just a couple of days short of being half-way through the year and I’m still on it. NOW WHAT?

OK, the WHOLE truth is that I’ve been walking, mostly, cycling every now and then, and mixing in some running when the mood hits me. But mostly I’ve been walking. And I have been enjoying it. More than that, I’ve found that I really look forward to it, the walking that is.

I’ve walked alone. I’ve walked with Jenny. I walked last Friday with fellow announcer Ian Brooks and I walked on  Sunday with my friend Indro. I walked with them. Nearly no one ever wanted to run with me. I was too slow. People said they wanted to. I got invited by clubs to go “run” with them, but it never worked. I always ended up running – in the back – by myself.

Something’s different about walking. It seems, almost by its nature, to be social. And the pace lends itself to conversation. Or, when I’m alone, to contemplation.

I tell myself at the beginning of each new month that I’m going to focus on running. One of these months I will. For now, though, I’m on a roll and I’m not going to do anything to risk getting banged up again.

Yep. You guessed it. I’m going to try to move every day for an entire year.

Waddle on, friends.

John “the Penguin” Bingham, Competitor Magazine columnist
Author, The Courage to Start,No Need for Speed, Marathoning for Mortals and Running for Mortals.

Order your EARLY copy of John’s NEW book An Accidental Athlete today.

Have a question for John? Write him.

Summer vacations | The Penguin Chronicles

Read about the joy of growing up in the 1950’s.

Summer vacations | The Penguin Chronicles.

Running in the Emerald City

I’ve got to admit I’ve got a soft spot for Seattle, for lots of reason. Seattle was the first place I ever ran outside of the country roads around my home in Oberlin, Ohio. I was there as a part of an admission/recruitment team for the Oberlin Conservatory, staying at a forgotten hotel, and committed to changing my life with my own two feet.

Walking out of the hotel for that first run – or to be honest walk with a little running – I had no idea what would happen that day or, as it turns out, with the rest of my life. All I knew for sure was that I was wearing running shoes, running shorts, and a running shirt. I was, to anyone watching, a runner.

Of course I wasn’t a runner. I wasn’t even a walker. I was a pretender. Sort of. I wasn’t going to pretend to run. You can’t pretend to run. You have to actually run. But on that first day I was pretending that I knew what I was doing. I didn’t. All I knew for sure was that I was standing on a street in Seattle dressed to go for a run.

So I did. I turned right out of the hotel and started running. Uphill. For those of you who don’t know Seattle, it’s hilly. I probably got about 100 yards, uphill, from the hotel before my running plan fell apart. I started walking. Slowly. Uphill.

Eventually the sidewalk did level out some, and then went downhill. It turns out that running downhill isn’t that much easier than running uphill. So I walked downhill. I ran a little on the rare level spots, but, up and down I walked.

When I turned around, knowing then that the road back would be the reverse of the road out, I had to remind myself that I wanted to be doing this. There was a small, quiet voice telling me that this running thing would work. There was a chorus of voices telling me to go back to the hotel, get a giant order of pancakes and eggs with about 8 cups of coffee and give it all up.

I didn’t. I ran every day that week, in Seattle, Los Angeles, La Jolla, and even in the snow in Denver. I didn’t know why. I didn’t know how. I did know that, for whatever reason, as wrong as it felt it felt right.

Funny thing, now nearly 20 years later, it still does.

Waddle on, friends.

John “the Penguin” Bingham, Competitor Magazine columnist
Author, The Courage to Start,No Need for Speed, Marathoning for Mortals and Running for Mortals.

Order your EARLY copy of John’s NEW book An Accidental Athlete today.

Have a question for John? Write him.

Wheels of Fortune

It’s an old story. Men do things. Women want to do things. Men make it seem too difficult. Women prove them wrong. Here’s the headline.

Harmon, Illinois, June 13, 2011

Jenny Hadfield set’s new Women’s One-Day ElliptiGO Distance Record

Jenny Hadfield, author, writer, and extreme athlete destroyed the current 111 mile record today by riding 152 miles in 15 hours on the Grand Illinois Trail and Parks (GITAP) bike tour Century course. Not content to simply complete the demanding course, Jenny decided to ride the first half of the course a second time.

It was an extraordinary effort, and as Jenny would be quick to tell you, it was a team effort. It was a team that Jenny put together, that supported her, and in the end got to experience something that few ever get to experience. Jenny, along with her team, did something that no other woman had ever done. Like Amelia Earhart, Jenny Hadfield has made a statement for herself and, by extension, for all women.

It was also the second time that Jenny had set the record. Last September as a part of her 500 mile ride from Chicago to Toronto she rode 141 miles in a single day. But, it wasn’t considered “official” because it wasn’t part of a cycling event on a prescribed and measured course. This time it was. This time it was a squeaky clean effort. Signed, sealed, and delivered.

My part? I was the “crew chief”. What does that mean? I helped prepare the ElliptiGOs for the ride. [Yes, I’m a motor sports guy. We had the primary ride AND a back-up, fully prepared second ElliptiGO] I prepped the lead vehicle and the chase vehicle. I studied the course, prepared the maps, plotted the route on the GPS’s, and drove the lead vehicle. Deb Dean drove the chase vehicle, prepared all the food for Jenny and the team and set up all the aid stations. Kathy O’Malley and her grandson Tris Bucaro drove the media car and were the official photographers and videographers. And, Harry and Karly Spell provided on-course support and – yes – aerial support. Harry took Tris up in an airplane to get overhead shots.

But the day belonged to Jenny. She was prepared. She was serious. And she was successful. Somewhere around mile 90 I looked in the mirror and saw her body position change subtly. She leaned into the bars a bit more. Her face was a little more set. She knew then that she would complete the Century ride. She knew then that she would break the 111 mile record. The only question was whether she wanted to beat the record or shatter it.

She shattered it. We pulled in to get verification of the Century and then Jenny looked at her crew and said: “Let’s just do it again”. We piled into the cars and headed out. It was like Deja Vu all over again. We were out on the course one more time.

In the end, over 152 miles and 15 hours after we started, at the Fire Department of Harmon, Illinois, it was over. There was no crowd. There were no photographers. Just Deb Dean, Jenny, and me. She’d done it. She’d done what no other woman had ever done.

That’s often the way it is. Most of our successes are private moments. And that’s fine. At the end of the day, wherever that is, it’s what we are to ourselves that matters most.

Waddle on, friends.

John “the Penguin” Bingham, Competitor Magazine columnist
Author, The Courage to Start,No Need for Speed, Marathoning for Mortals and Running for Mortals.

Order your EARLY copy of John’s NEW book An Accidental Athlete today.

Have a question for John? Write him.

The Art of Winning

In the Art of War, Sun Tzu emphasized the importance of positioning in military strategy, and that the decision to position an army must be based on both objective conditions in the physical environment and the subjective beliefs of other, competitive actors in that environment.

On the surface that might not seem to have anything to do with running. And, until last Friday afternoon I would have agreed with you. Sure, I understand that, to a certain extent, positioning in a general sense is important in road racing. If you want to run with the front pack you need to be IN the front pack. But I never thought about both the objective and subjective elements that Sun Tzu was talking about.

What changed? Last Friday, at the Legends Panel of the Dodge Rock ‘n’ Roll Marathon and Half Marathon, Meb Keflezighi, Rod Dixon, and Jim Ryrun were discussing their running and racing careers. To hear them tell it, the outcomes of road races and track races were very often determined as much by the winning strategy as by the winning talent.

It got REALLY interesting when I asked Meb and Rod, both winners of the New York City Marathon, how each of them, in their prime, would have beat the other. There was a little bit of good-natured chat, but when I pressed them their eyes narrowed and the warrior in both of them surfaced.

Meb, Olympic silver medalist in the marathon, is probably best known for his skill at distances of 10K and beyond. Rod, the Olympic bronze medalist at 1,500 meters is widely regarded as the most comprehensive  runner of all time having been world-class at every distance from 800 meters to the marathon. No one before or since has enjoyed the scope of success that Rod did. This conversation, though, was about the marathon.

Rod went first, explaining in great detail how he would insist that Meb run Rod’s race. He said he would set out to control Meb’s every move from the very start. He said he’d move around the road, surge and relax, and do everything he could to make Meb run the way he, Rod, wanted him to run. He said that if he could get inside of Meb’s head he could beat him. Most importantly, as an Olympic medalist in the 1,500, he knew that if they were together and mile 25 he could win.

Meb didn’t waste any time responding. No way Rod would get inside his head. Meb starts with a plan and stays with the plan. He isn’t influenced by what’s going on around him. Finally, with more that a little sparkle in his eye he said that if they were together at mile 20 that he, Meb, being a 10K guy, would put his head down and punish Rod.

At the end they were smiling, but you knew that BOTH thought they could have won. Both believed that they had what it takes to beat the other.

And that’s what made the both champions, not just of the New York City Marathon, but of life. It would have been one hell of a race.

Waddle on, friends.

John “the Penguin” Bingham, Competitor Magazine columnist
Author, The Courage to Start,No Need for Speed, Marathoning for Mortals and Running for Mortals.

Order your EARLY copy of John’s NEW book An Accidental Athlete today.

Have a question for John? Write him.

A Day of Our Own

June 1, 2011

HAPPY NATIONAL RUNNING DAY!
That’s right. In case you missed it this is National Running Day. I had no idea until I got a call from a journalist who wanted to know my thoughts on – well – National Running Day.

Before you get too excited about running having come into the national conscience, let me remind you of a few other days.

January 13 is … National Blame Someone Else Day
January 14 is … National Dress Up Your Pet Day
January 19 is … National Popcorn Day
January 20 is … National Buttercrunch Day
January 21 is … National Hugging Day
January 22 is … National Answer Your Cat’s Question Day
January 23 is … National Measure Your Feet Day
January 24 is … National Eskimo Pie Patent Day
January 25 is … National Opposite Day

And that’s just a few of the days in January!

But, it’s still cool that there is a National Running Day. I’m not sure I understand exactly what we’re supposed to do today. I mean, it seems pretty clear what you’re supposed to do on National Dress Up Your Pet Day. I guess we’re supposed to run. Or walk. Or walk-run. Or run-walk. And, I guess we’re supposed to do it in public and make a big deal of it. Well, I probably won’t be doing that. I don’t care if anyone else does, but I won’t.

Running has always been a deeply private part of my life. It’s not that I haven’t run with small groups and in large events. I have. But, for the most part running has been my time to be with myself, by myself. It’s my time to reflect, to remember, to forget, to figure out, to just plain wonder about things. Running also been my time to undo the damage – physical, emotional, and spiritual – that I’d done to myself.  Even now, with 20 years of running behind me, I still find scraps of memories – good and bad – stuck in corners of my mind that I thought I had cleaned out long ago.

So while I’m happy that there’s a National Running Day, for me every day is a running day. And some of the most important running days have been the very days when I haven’t run.

Waddle on, friends.

John “the Penguin” Bingham, Competitor Magazine columnist
Author, The Courage to Start,No Need for Speed, Marathoning for Mortals and Running for Mortals.

Order your EARLY copy of John’s NEW book  An Accidental Athlete  today.

Have a question for John? Write him.

Classic Chronicle: Of Penguins and Prefontaine

John “The Penguin” Bingham.