Week 8 Training Update

26 Oct

Due to fatigue, I was obliged to scale back the ambitious workout plan outlined below. I did a 1.5 mile time trial on Friday, finishing in 7:57 on close to max effort. The evening before I had aquajogged for thirty minutes, so I wasn't completely fresh. I suppose the performance is acceptable. It's my first time under 8:00 in three and a half years, and my fastest time ever since I ran 7:50 as a freshman in college. I came through 1600 in 5:14. It may be hard to believe, based on this 7:57, that I plan on running a 4:03 1500 in late spring. I've got a long ways to go, I know. However, I've only been training for two months. I have seven more months of training before peaking in early June (excluding a few weeks of rest), so I can still get there. This sport is all about patience. You can only build fitness with month upon month of consistent training. I cringe when I think that Deena Kastor can sustain my 1.5 mile pace for 26.2. However, as soon as this thought creeps up I remind myself of the cardinal rule of distance running: NEVER compare yourself to others. All that matters is self-improvement.
This afternoon I did a workout on the track. I had originally planned for a 2x15 minute tempo, but after running 400 meters I was forced to revise this plan. I came through the quarter in 80 seconds, too fast for a 15 minute effort. I quickly decided to do a 3200 meter repeat. I finished in in 10:55, running an even 5:27/5:28. I rested for 11 minutes, and then did another 3200, this time in 11:22 (5:41/5:41). Again, it's an acceptable performance. Nothing spectacular, but acceptable. The 10:55 hurt pretty bad in the second half; it was at about 90 percent effort. At max effort, I could probably run 10:40 right now, which is my sophomore high school PR. The second 3200 felt much more relaxed. I was thoroughly exhausted at the end, too tired to do a cool down (not good, I know). It was good to get in a workout with sustained aerobic exertion. I hadn't done anything like that yet. I will be able to do another 2-3 solid workouts prior to the Phoenix 5K. My goal is 16:45, or roughly 5:25 pace. With additional fitness and the thrill of competition, this goal is certainly within my reach.
I only did 18 miles this week. I was too exhausted to make the Saturday morning team run. My fatigue, I now realize, is the result of only 6 hours of sleep a night. I'm going to extend that to my usual 8 hours. That should fix the problem. With the intensity of my athletic pursuits, sufficient sleep is essential. 6 hours simply doesn't cut it.

22 Oct

Well, after a week of training in the pool, I'm back into the swing of things. I did a track workout on Tuesday, three sets of 4 x .236 miles; that's evidently the size of this undersized track. Coach Bill gave me 60 seconds of rest between the repeats, and 2 minutes between sets. Despite fears of being sluggish, I actually felt very strong. I did them all in 59-61 seconds (that's about 62-63 seconds for a full 400 meters), and finished with a 58. It's possible that I'm overestimating the size of the track, because if I was indeed running 62 second quarters with only 60 seconds of rest, that means I am in VERY good shape. Yeah, now that I think about it, I probably wasn't running that fast, especially given the fact that I aquajogged most of last week. Even so, I was running at least 65 second 400 meter pace. I actually accelerated in the second half of each repeat. The workout was hard, but not super painful. I remember my 400 meter repeat sessions in high school being much harder. My legs didn't start to feel heavy until the last set. Coach Bill and I really worked on my form. It turns out I'm swing my arms too much from side to side. I need to focus on keeping them close to my body. I also have a tendency to overstride, which causes a loss in efficiency. Finally, I've got to keep my body straight, straight enough to drop a plumb line from my head to my hips. That's how the Africans run. Coach Bill showed me a clip of Haile Gebreselassie from the movie Endurance. He keeps his torso perfectly straight. That's how I want to run.
Today I ran six miles on the treadmill, ending with 2.5 miles at 6:00 pace. My right calf is somewhat tight so I'm going to aquajog tomorrow. I've learned not to push through tightness. It's just not a good idea. Better to back off than get injured. Friday I've got two workouts planned: a 1.5 mile run in the morning (part of my Air Force PT test) and a 2 x 20 minute tempo run in the evening. Saturday I'm doing a long run of around 10 miles, and on Sunday I'll do my usual 5 mile "assessment" on the track. I should be able to hit 29:35 (5:55 pace) without working too hard.

Aquajogging

14 Oct

Good news. My calf muscle is making steady progress. I can now hop on one leg with minimal pain, and the rolling massage barely even hurts. As a precaution, I'm not going to run until at least Friday morning. There's no hurry to get back. In the meantime, I just finished my second aquajogging workout this evening. I'm fortunate enough to have a small pool in my apartment complex, and even more fortunate to have perennially suitable weather for this sort of thing. Anyway, I "ran" for thirty minutes. I have the Speedo aquajogger belt, which is the only one that was available at Big 5. The difficult part is trying to attach it to your body. Since I'm evidently too thin around the waist (size 32), the belt rides up to my chest, which constricts my breathing (I did my first workout like this). You also sink lower into the water when the device is higher on your body, which isn't good when your pool is only 5 feet deep like mine. At 6 feet, my feet were scraping the bottom. So I had to make some unorthodox adjustments. I eventually managed to hook the belt around one leg, which allowed me to float higher in the water and did not constrict my breathing. In this position, I was able to get very good leg turnover. I could move even faster if I tilted my body at an angle.
The quality of the workout improved greatly when I made the adjustment, and I was able to put in a good effort. One unavoidable disadvantage of pool training is that your heart rate will never get very high, even though the perceived rate of exertion may be the same as what you would experience on land. The highest I was able to get mine was about 135-140 after a good, hard sprint. My max on land is around 180. Apparently the pressure of the water aids circulation, meaning your heart does not have to work as hard. The aerobic benefits of water running are thus inferior to the real thing. But hey, it's a cross-training activity. It's certainly better than doing nothing. My legs were noticeably sore when I got out of the pool, and I expect to be a little sore tomorrow. So at the very least, my muscles are getting a workout. I don't expect to have lost any fitness at all when I get back to running. I'm definitely going to do water running once a week, maybe on Sundays.
As far as training as concerned, I have to recognize the fact that my body is not used to even low mileage, like 35. I haven't done that sort of thing in years. I have to gradually ease into higher mileage. I've also started to think that 40-50 miles per week in the winter may be a better idea than 50-60. I don't want to burn myself out before the spring and end up with a catastrophic injury. This is especially important if my season goes into June, which I suspect it will. Assuming I qualify for the USATF National Club Track and Field Championship (4:05 needed), that will push my season well into July. That would mean that my outdoor season will have lasted ten or eleven weeks, assuming I do my first race in early April. I've never trained that hard for that long. I've really got to be careful. A single injury will take all the fun out of running.

Week 6 Training Update

12 Oct

I've got some bad news. I have a micro-tear in my left calf muscle. I felt it happen on Monday while running on the treadmill. With about three minutes to go in my 7 mile workout (6:50-6:20 pace; I always crank it up at the end), my calf tightened up badly. Foolishly, I decided to finish instead of stopping immediately. The muscle soreness was immediate and it persisted into the next day. The next workout was on the track, and I had my best speed session so far. I did 7 x 3:30 at 4:45 to 5:00 minute mile pace, with "active rest" (waiting for my heart rate to get back to 140). Unfortunately, at the end of the workout my calf was hurting so bad that I couldn't even do a cool down jog. I took Wednesday and Thursday off completely, then did a 6 miler on the treadmill Friday evening as a tune-up for the Saturday morning long run. My calf didn't feel great on the treadmill, but the pain was tolerable. It was pretty much the same story on Saturday. I did 10 miles at 6:00-6:30 pace along the canal, and the pain was definitely noticeable but not unbearable. When I got back, Coaches Barb and Bill showed me how to use the foam roller, which hurt like hell on my calf. Apparently it's supposed to hurt. The idea is to put your whole body weight on the roller, making contact with the injured muscle, thus giving yourself a deep tissue massage and breaking up the knotting. I've created my own roller at home (glass jar wrapped in a towel) as a temporary measure until I can buy a good one. I've been told not to stretch my calf for a few days, as this will retard recovery. Anyway, it hurt pretty bad yesterday (after the run) and this morning. Whenever I take a step I feel it. This is kind of a bizarre experience because I've never had muscle pain persist for this long. It also happened so suddenly. I was just running on the treadmill; it's not like I stepped in a pothole or anything random like that. Coach Barb says that running on a treadmill isn't good because it throws your form off. I'm starting to believe her.
My training will be interrupted for about a week, maybe a little longer. The good news is, the New Times Phoenix 5K isn't for another four weeks. I purchased an aquajogging belt today and am eager to give it a try in the pool tomorrow. I've heard good things about aquajogging. Apparently, it's the best cross-training activity because it simulates running. I've even read that you can preserve your level of fitness for weeks, though I doubt this is the case with elite runners (not that I consider myself elite, mind you, but I'm definitely well above average fitness level). Coach Bill said that he can replicate any running workout, even intervals, in the pool with aqua-jogging. This is good news, because I absolutely hate missing training. I didn't expect to encounter my first injury this quickly. Maybe I increased my mileage too much (week 3 I did 28, and in week 5 I did 37), or maybe I'm doing too many treadmill runs. I need to start doing my medium runs on the grass athletic fields at the high school near my apartment. Once I get a measuring wheel I'll also be able to chart some distances. I'm obsessed with pacing; that's why I like the treadmill.
It sucks being injured. However, I will become a better educated and more well rounded athlete as a result of this setback. Without injury I would not have considered aqua-jogging. I recently watched a video on Flotrack in which Gabe Jennings talked about aqua-jogging for most of his secondary runs. This was in the run up to the 2008 Olympic Trials, where he was evidently having pain in his Achilles tendon. Maybe I should incorporate aqua-jogging into my normal routine. I'll provide an update tomorrow on how my first session went.

Why I Run: Part I

9 Oct

“Why do we run?”

Answering this question invariably offers a window into our myriad personalities. For many of us, running feeds the thirst for achievement and recognition. For others, running offers a comradeship forged in a shared struggle against adversity. Some pursue the sport because it provides a refuge from worldly chaos, a shelter in which the prize of introspection arises over many miles covered alone. Still others view running in spiritual terms: the union of humanity and nature, the transcendence of one’s corporeal limitations, the worship of God through divinely-bestowed talents.

“Why do I run?”

If I were to summarize my response, it would involve a combination of all the elements listed above and more. No thorough explanation is possible, however, unless I return to my origins, to the early days of my encounter with running. We must go back to the spring of 2002.

I was 15 then, a socially awkward home-schooler living in Spanaway, Washington, about forty-five minutes south of Seattle. My parents decided that I would benefit from some form of athletic participation. With absolutely no skill in any of the major team sports, running was essentially the only available option. They didn't cut people from the track team. As I later learned, it was precisely for this reason that all of the rejects from baseball and soccer flocked to track and field, a kind of catch-all club for all of the male athletes who possessed an abundance of ambition but an unfortunate deficiency of talent. In short, it was a community in which I would feel welcome. As I would soon learn, running had one singular advantage over all other sports, especially for an athletic novice such as me who couldn't even put a spiral on a football. Running demanded no prior skill, no technical foundation or knowledge of rules and strategy. Running demanded only one thing: the submission of the body to the mind, the furious and single-minded resolution to place one foot in front of the other for as long and as fast as one's will permitted. At the end of the day, running is simply the struggle against the tide of one's own weakness; no more, no less. Only much later would I fully understand the beauty in this, the raw purity of humanity's most basic expression of physical prowess. Back then, as a 15 year old kid, all I knew was that running would be a vessel into which I would channel my will, in spite of what I thought were quite pronounced physical limitations.

The decision to run was not my own. My parents more or less forced me into it, though I do not recall putting up any resistance. Once all the administrative issues had been dealt with and I was allowed onto the team, I came to view running as I viewed everything else: a challenge in which to test my mettle. I have always possessed an insatiable desire to prove myself, not for the glory of recognition – though I would later develop an appetite for that as well – but rather for the inner satisfaction of knowing that I explored the limits of my potential. I was born with a tendency towards stubborn persistence, a trait that has produced both good and ill fortune over the years. It was, however, my upbringing to which I owe my work ethic. Both of my parents pulled themselves up from poverty, and it is this gritty determination that has left its indelible print upon my personality. Right away, I viewed running as a proving ground. Again, my approach to the sport was perfectly tailored to the nature of the sport itself. Running offered an objective gauge of ability, an indisputable and universally accepted means with which to both measure self-improvement and compare one’s performance to that of others. The clock told all. I would not only know if I was improving, but by how much. It is this obsession with objectivity to which I trace my early gravitation towards track over cross-country. While people can argue over which running course is more difficult, the track never lies; period. My love affair with track began as soon as I realized that it would be the same task again and again. Run four laps as fast as possible, then repeat it again the next week. Though some people despise such monotony, the predictability of track fed my desire to know just how good I was.

I remember a conversation I had with the head track and field coach after the first information meeting, sometime in January or February. I asked him about the events. “Is there a 2 mile event?” I asked. “Yes,” he said. The next logical question: “What times do the best guys run in the 2 mile?” “Hmm, you’re looking at under ten minutes, as fast as 9:30.” My awe-stricken reaction to this revelation proceeded from the fact that I had never broken 6:00 in the mile. Averaging under 5:00 for two miles seemed superhuman, even freakish, especially to someone unaware that the 8:00 barrier had already been broken. I relate this tale because it helps to explain my position in the sport two years later, when my own abilities eventually reached the level of which the coach had spoken. I would not become an elite by national or even state standards, but in my own mind I would refer to myself as such. My origins in the sport were so humble and obscure that my 9:52 3200, run in May of 2004, was a tremendous triumph, the culmination of a rise that I had not thought possible two years earlier. As a gangly 15 year old, I started out with nothing: no background in running, no knowledge of training or competition. When told that there were some who could break 10:00 in the 3200, I put such thoughts far from my mind. I certainly would never be capable of such things. All I could hope for was steady improvement, a string of PRs week by week.

And so the tale begins. I initially tried the sprints, but after two days I was politely told that the distance group would be a better fit for me. Read: I sucked at sprinting. I was thus brought under the tutelage of Mrs. Beckman, a math teacher who coached both the female cross-country team and the distance track squad for both genders. Over the next two years she would play a formative role in my development as a student, as an athlete, and, most importantly, as a young adult working to reintegrate himself with his peers. My rise as a distance runner proved to be a phenomenon of far- reaching implications in my personal life, as the sport would eventually transform into something that transcended individual achievement alone. Though running is often described as the loneliest of all sports, runners were never meant to carry on alone. To this day, the desire for community remains a fundamental reason for my continuing involving in running.

In my first meet as a high school runner, I participated in the 1600m and 3200m races. The results? 5:43 and 12:22. I don’t recall much about either race, only that I wasn’t last in either of them. It was, as I said, a modest beginning. I had accumulated perhaps three weeks of practice. I didn’t even own a pair of racing spikes. My coach and my teammates, however, were invariably supportive. Acceptance was extended to everyone, regardless of ability. Though shy at first, I came to enjoy the company of my peers. We distance runners were always a tighter-knit group than the sprinters. We spent more time together, whether it was running side by side over miles of suburban road or converting our legs to Jell-O in the middle of an intense interval session. I soon became good friends with Robbie and Jessica, the two top runners on the male and female squads, respectively. It was due to the influence of the former, in particular, that I learned how to test my limits in the workouts. I admired Robbie’s physical and mental toughness, and tried as best I could to replicate them. Several weeks into the season, my increasing fitness, combined with some form corrections and a set of track spikes, led to a breakthrough at one of the dual meets. I ran 5:10 for the 1600, then came back with 11:30 for the 3200. Not long after that, I ran the 3200 fresh and managed a 10:57. I was now the second fastest runner on the team in both distance events, a rise that had occurred over a remarkably short period of time. At the Sentinel Classic, our school’s annual track and field invitational, I lowered my PR to 10:42. With only one dual meet remaining, I had one goal in mind: break 5:00 in the 1600. I succeeded, clocking 4:56 and finishing second, my first top 3 finish.

Meanwhile, Robbie and Jessica had both qualified for the sub-district meet. I traveled with the team to watch my first postseason meet, an event that I would not attend as a participant until the following year.

Stay tuned for Part II!

Shannon Rowbury is my inspiration!

5 Oct

So in addition to running, I also closely follow the international running scene, specifically track and field athletes. I draw tremendous inspiration from our home-grown American athletes. Alan Webb and Adam Goucher have always been my two greatest running heroes. In high school, I read both of Chris Lear's books profiling these athletes: Running with the Buffaloes (1998) and Sub 4:00 (2002). I remember watching Alan Webb run 3:50 at the Prefontaine Classic in 2004. I was running on the treadmill at the time, in the middle of a six or seven mile run. I remember shouting "Go! Go!" as Webb came into the homestretch. As a miler, I follow the middle-distance athletes the most. Webb has undoubtedly done more for US distance running than anyone else in the last seven years, ever since he ran that 3:53 as a high school senior in 2001. He's inspired countless high schoolers, myself included. I've continued to follow his career, even during the three years that I was out of the running loop (2005-2008). Last year, he set a new American record with 3:46.

Though I still have tremendous respect for Webb and his accomplishments, it was disappointing to see his fifth place finish at the Olympic Trials this year. He's had another mediocre year in a career that has ridden on the proverbial roller coaster: tremendous highs (high school and American records) followed by tremendous lows (finishing fourth at the 2002 Outdoor NCAAs and failing to get a ticket to Beijing). So until Webb returns to form, I'll be drawing inspiration from another US middle-distance star, lesser known but arguably just as accomplished: Shannon Rowbury.

Yeah, she's a girl, but why should that matter? Guys can be inspired by girls, especially when they're better. Let's do a quick comparison. Rowbury's PR in the 1500 is 4:00, and mine is 4:10, meaning she would absolutely destroy me on the track. She's run 4:20 for the mile, a high school goal that I never achieved (my best was a 4:28). So yeah, she's a hell of a lot faster than me. But that's not (the only) reason why she inspires me. In the course of one season, Rowbury brought her respectable 4:12 PR down to 4:00, catapulting her into the international rankings and elevating her to legendary status amongst American middle-distance athletes. She ended up getting seventh in the Beijing final, definitely in medal contention. A year earlier, in the summer of 2007, she was just coming off of a catastrophic stress fracture in her hip that had interrupted her final season at Duke University. So over the course of a year, she went from being sidelined due to injury to lowering her PR by 12 seconds and making the Olympic final. And a 12 second PR in the 1500 is HUGE, let me remind you. She also won the 3K at the USATF Indoor Track and Field Championship in February, running a huge PR of 8:55 after not racing for months.

In looking at Rowbury's career, I can see some parallels to my own experience. Like Rowbury, my collegiate career had to stop due to injury, though in my case this occurred my freshman year. My PR leaving college was basically the same as Rowbury's: 4:10 to 4:12. Like Rowbury, I now have a new coach who can turn me into a much better athlete. Like Rowbury, I'm working on building a strong aerobic base in preparation for the outdoor season (though I won't be able to get in 6 weeks of altitude training as she did). So I've got all of these things in common with Rowbury, and she lowered her PR by 12 seconds. If that's possible in the course of one year of training, then I can certainly PR by 7 seconds by early June and run 4:03.

Consistency and patience, as well as guidance from a great coach (John Cook, who also coaches the great Shalane Flanagan), have helped Rowbury to run faster than anyone had thought possible. With Webb absent from Beijing and Lagat reaching the twilight of his career, we middle-distance athletes need an American idol, someone with whom we can identify. Until Webb gets his act together, Rowbury is going to stay my inspiration through June of next year. Can my own achievements match hers? That question will be answered in nine months. Until then, I've got a photo of her winning the Trials posted on a cork board in front of my desk. When I consider Rowbury's success, I am reminded that good things can happen if you're willing to put in the work. I'll understand that fully once I scratch 4:03 on my bib number and post it next to Rowbury's picture sometime next spring.

Week 5 Training Update

5 Oct, 2008

Well, I have officially completed my fifth week of training. I did 37 miles this week, including an 11.3 mile canal run yesterday starting at Grenada Park. This morning I ran 5 miles on the track in 29:55, or about 6:00 mile pace. I ended with a 5:50. I wanted a steady, relaxed run at a decent clip. I think I'm going to do this kind of run every Sunday as a gauge of fitness. I'll gradually crank down the speed. Hopefully by December I'll be able to do 5:30-5:40 pace comfortably. Next week I'm aiming for 44 miles, including a Saturday 15-miler. I have four and a half weeks of good, hard training until my next race: the Phoenix 5K on 9 Nov. I'll be racing with my new team, Bill Strachan's AZTECH group. The goal there is 16:30. It's ambitious, considering the fact that I only ran 17:21 at the Moon Valley Grasshopper Bridge 5K on 27 Sept. But I've been in the mid 16:00 range before (albeit five years ago), so I think it's an achievable goal. I think I need some good race-pace type workouts. I just read an article in the October issue of Running Times ("Run Faster: 6 Adaptive Running Methods" by Brad Hudson) that race-pace training is essential in hitting your target time for a race.

My training is progressing well. After only 5 weeks of training (following three and a half years of running 1-3 times a week), I am back to 17:20 5K shape. I am much more well-informed about running now than I was in high school or college. With my own research, along with Coach Bill's guidance, I have added strength and flexibility exercises to my routine. I'm also doing Bikrim yoga twice a week, which is great for joint strength, flexibility, and overall injury prevention. Given my history of injury, I need to do everything possible to stay healthy. My frequent injuries have done more than anything else to limit my potential as a runner.

Another component I have added is higher mileage. The most I've ever done is 50-55 miles a week, and I got injured my freshman year of collegiate XC after five weeks of that. To get to where I want to go, I'll need to start doing 50-60 mile weeks consistently. The way I see it, I managed a 4:27 1600 in high school off of 25 miles a week. Running 60 miles a week should bring that time way down. Combined with speed work, my goal of a 4:03 1500 is certainly attainable. For those of you who aren't familiar with these events, a 4:03 1500 converts to a 4:20 1600, so I'm aiming for a 7 second PR by early June 2009. The key is building a huge aerobic base over the winter, with consistent high mileage. A slow build-up is key to doing this without getting injured. That's why I'm still at under 40 miles a week. I started at 20 mpw five weeks ago, so I've been building up gradually. I'll do a few 50+ weeks prior to my target race this winter (on 14 Dec). Then, after Christmas, it's going to be eight weeks of 55-60 in preparation for my spring campaign. I would like to keep it at 60+ through June. That's asking a lot of my body, but with my strength training program I should be able to take the punishment.

Why I'm Back

5 Oct

There was a time, not so long ago, when I had no desire to return to competitive running. I had a vague idea of perhaps doing road races, but I never seriously considered getting back into track and field. I often reminisced about what I had accomplished in high school: a 4:27.7 1600 and a 9:52.4 3200. Not elite marks, by any means, but certainly respectable, and enough to elicit awe from most people. I had put these performances on a pedestal in my mind, tacitly acknowledging that I would never again get back to that level. It would be to hard too return to form, too demanding on both my schedule and my body. I would end up injured again, which would interfere with my military duties (I commissioned as an Air Force officer in June). It was time to move on to other things.

My change of heart was the product of several events that occurred more or less simultaneously. First, at age 22, I seriously started to contemplate the reality of my own mortality. Old age and physical decline were no longer merely nebulous concepts. For the first time in my life, I realized that I would not live forever, and that my youth would someday depart. There is only a narrow window of time in which one can fully develop one's athletic abilities. That window starts to close at 30, and by 40 it's pretty much slammed shut, though this varies by the sport in question. In any event, I started to assess my life based on what I could do now, in my youth, that I would not be able to do in ten or twenty years. I acknowledged my passion for running and swore to myself that I would discover my true potential before it was too late. I had already lost three years of training; I couldn't afford to lose more.

Meanwhile, the Beijing Olympics had arrived, and I found myself glued to the TV at least three hours every evening. I watched everything: swimming, gymnastics, diving, basketball, rowing, volleyball, track and field, even table tennis and water polo. I marveled at the talent on display, at the supreme athletic achievement of people who had honed their skills in a single endeavor. I started to live through their performances vicariously, fantasizing about being able to perform such feats myself. My hunger for athletics started coming back, and with it a wave of memories and desires that I had long kept locked away: the masochistic consumption of pain as a long-term investment, the insatiable drive for self-improvement, the thrill of competition, and the glory of hard-fought victory against a worthy adversary. It was then that I realized how much I missed running, the only sport in which I have ever had any significant ability. All of my ambitions, hitherto unrealized and ostensibly abandoned, came roaring back with a vengeance. "I've got unfinished business," I thought to myself. I made a resolution to myself, then and there, to surpass my previous form and get down to a 4:20 mile within one year. Fortunately, this resolution coincided with my transition away from college and into the working world. I found myself with more time on my hands than I had ever had in the previous four years. I needed some form of recreation, some passion to lead my off-duty hours, and I could think of no better candidate than running.

That resolution I spoke of occurred in late August. So now I'm about six weeks into my return from retirement, hungrier and more driven than I ever have been. Against all odds, I'm back. Every day I can feel my aerobic engine, idle for over three years, roaring back to life.

This phoenix will rise from the ashes, and make it's voice heard in the Valley of the Sun.