Operation Jack

Fighting autism, one mile at a time.

Archives for 2010

Race Report: Las Vegas Rock 'N Roll Marathon

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No matter how many marathons you run, they’re never easy. They’re tough. They’re painful. For me, though, I think I took the tough and painful aspects to a new level in Sunday’s Las Vegas Rock ‘N Roll Marathon. In 85 previous lifetime marathons, I don’t think I ever felt as much physical pain as I did in this one.

Real quick, just in case you’ve never been here before, I’m a father of three and a marathon runner. My middle child, 7-year-old Jack, is severely autistic. I wanted to do something to try to make a difference and make sure he has an impact on the world, so I’m attempting to run 61 marathons this year to raise money and awareness for a charity I’m a part of called Train 4 Autism.

Las Vegas was my 58th of the year, my second of the weekend. I ran the Memphis St. Jude Marathon Saturday (recap here), so I knew it would be a tough run for me. I’ve run maybe a dozen or so doubles in my life, including seven (plus a triple) this year. I know the drill — I wake up, it hurts, I run through it and that’s pretty much it. They’re tough, but manageable.

I headed out for the race expecting a tough day and I got it. Like yesterday, I never felt good or locked in anything remotely close to a groove. It was a tough weekend, no question. The first half of the course was fun to run, up and down the Las Vegas Strip. Las Vegas isn’t my kind of place, but it was fun nonetheless.

The Downtown area was pretty fascinating to me. I love running through bad parts of town because I don’t really go to those areas in my normal, everyday life, so it’s eye-opening to see. I saw some motels and businesses in the area and couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that people actually go there. A lot of shady-looking stuff I typically stay away from.

Anyways, I felt terrible physically. I was in a ton of pain and my right foot and knee hurt pretty bad. Sometimes I’ll start a race and suffer through some pain before I get warm, but that pain feeling never went away today. And by about mile 8, I could tell my stride was shortening. That’s always the beginning of the end, and while I don’t normally get that way in a marathon until mile 23 or 24, it’s been happening around 17 or 18 lately.

It’s tough mentally to know you’re cooked with nothing but deterioration ahead with 18 miles left in the race. I tried to shuffle every here and there to see if I could resuscitate my legs, but that didn’t really help. Because of pain in my IT band in my right leg, I ran a good chunk of the second half of the race with a hop and a limp.

I tried to push, but I also threw myself a little bit of a pity party. It was absolutely miserable. The second half of the course was lousy, wrapping through industrial parks. It was boring and completely unremarkable. I guess I’m biased about Las Vegas — I lived there for a year and didn’t like it. But that second half reminded me of everything I didn’t like. Just not my kind of place.

It hurt, I struggled, I limped, I shuffled, and I just couldn’t wait to get to the finish. I’m not sure how to really use words to get this across, but this was the most physically painful and miserable marathon I’ve ever run. It was just another time for me to realize that I’ve really run myself into the ground this year.

I had no idea what time I was going to run, but I was behind the 3:30 pace group and in front of the 3:35, and it looked like it was going to be about a 3:33. With about a mile to go, there was a small hill on an overpass and I decided that’s where I would make my kick.

This might sound really odd, but while I’m doing everything this year so that Jack can have an impact on the world, I don’t really dedicate portions of my race to him. When I’m running, I’m going all-out, and I try to focus as well as I can on taking care of myself and managing my body. It’s a certain mindset I have when I’m locked in and I concentrate on pounding away. I have 165 hours a week to take care of everything else. I spend three hours concentrating on running my best.

Well today, at that overpass with a mile to go, I told myself I was going to kill it for Jack. I have no idea why got that into my mind — I don’t think I’ve done that all year. But for some reason, I did this time and I started flying. I found the gear I normally have and started passing everybody.

I took a quick glance at my Garmin and it looked like I was heading for a 3:33. I could tell that my form was good and I was moving well, but I didn’t know if I’d be able to hold until the finish. I must have have heard 20 people comment about how I was finishing strong. I’m faster than 3:33 runners, so I knew I had the ability to suck it up and go faster than those around me at that point. It’s just frustrating that I can’t suck it up and really go for 26.2 nowadays. Next year, next year.

Anyways, I saw the finish line with about 3/10 of a mile to go and looked at my time and saw I had a good chance at a 3:32. That’s nothing good for me, but it’s still better than a 3:33. I gave it all I had and made it across in 3:32:58.

So, I guess to sum it all up, it wasn’t a great run by any stretch of the imagination, but I know it was all I had, so I can’t really complain.

One more thing I want to add about this race is that my brother ran the half marathon for Operation Jack. He did a great job fundraising and was really excited about this and proud to be running in honor of his nephew. He has problems with his knees and hip because of a car accident he was in when he was 16 (he’s had six or seven surgeries), but he’s been training and wanted to go sub-2. I thought he was ready, and I still think he has the ability, but he battled with fueling issues and went 2:12.

It wasn’t everything he was capable of, but he gave it his all and I’m proud of him for the effort and passion he showed for this race.

And I guess that’s about it on this one. 58 down, three to go. We’re getting pretty close!


Me and my brother after the race. Since he did the half, he had time to go shower. He was bummed when we took the picture because he didn’t have his medal with him!

Race Report: Memphis St. Jude Marathon

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Saturday’s St. Jude Memphis Marathon was unlike any other marathon I’ve run this year, so my race report will be much unlike any other race report I’ve written. I had a tough day, but I’m really glad I ran this race. I have to break this one up into segments, because this isn’t really about the race.

Why I Ran Memphis
This is basically the 61st race of Operation Jack, even though it was only my 57th marathon of the year. I originally had 60 on the schedule, but Operation Jack supporter Lance Haney asked me to come run Memphis with him. I was already locked in for Las Vegas the next day, so adding the race forced me to bump my year from 60 to 61 marathons.

I was fine with that, because really, at that point, what’s the difference?

Why I Feel Like I Was Meant To Be There
I don’t talk about my faith all that much here, but I know that on multiple occasions, I’ve mentioned that I’m extremely grateful for how I’ve been blessed and I truly believe that God has led me down the path I’ve been on for a reason. When I talk about the path I’m on, I’m not talking about Operation Jack — I’m talking about everything since the day I was born. I’m part of His plan, and I’m grateful for that.

I missed registering before the race filled up, so the only way I was able to get in was to become a St. Jude’s Hero, which meant raising $500 for St. Jude. St. Jude is a hospital in Memphis that is a national leader in pediatric cancer treatment and research. My focus is on autism this year, but I didn’t mind switching gears to raise money for such a great cause.

I gave Lance my word that I’d run Memphis with him and this was my only way in. So I did it and raised the money pretty quickly. Even before I had to become a Hero, I was happy that my entry fee was going towards such a great cause. St. Jude sent me a special maroon Heroes singlet and I knew without a moment of hesitation that I’d wear that instead of my Operation Jack tank for the race. This would be a St. Jude race for me. It was obviously meant to be that way.

About three weeks ago, Lance got a stress fracture and had to drop out of the race. I was pretty bummed for a few reasons. Obviously, I don’t want anybody to get injured and not be able to participate in a goal race. But this also meant I wouldn’t get to meet him.

Both of my reasons for originally running the race changed. I have a lot of faith that everything worked out the way it was supposed to.

The Day Before
Since I was in Memphis, I got to meet up with Laura Sullivan, who I got to meet in Mississippi and Nashville earlier this year. She’s a big supporter of what I’m doing and has been there to kick my butt behind the scenes when I needed it, so it was good to spend some time visiting with her again. She was in town to run the half.

The night before the race, I went to the Heroes dinner with three people I’ve met through Operation Jack — Chris Humphries (who was with his wife), Jennifer Whitter and Ashley Schafer. Chris was also a Hero for the race, although he raised a lot more money than me. Jennifer is great and helped me out a lot when I was in St. Louis in October. Ashley cracks me up and ran Memphis as her first marathon. She digs what I’m doing and it was great to see her.

We all sat at the same table and were having a good time. Then the program began. The speaker was the mother of an 11-year-old girl who died last year of neuroblastoma, a cancer that develops in the nerve cells of children. Hearing her speak was the most heartbreaking thing I’ve heard in a long, long time. I think the part that got me the most was how she said her daughter told her within weeks of her death that she wouldn’t have changed her fate, because she thought God was saving her from something worse down the road.

I guess you had to be there, but it took every ounce of testosterone in my body not to sob uncontrollably. My eyes definitely welled up with tears and my chest was convulsing. To be there and to hear that was a a very real reminder to me of how fortunate I am. When she was talking about her daughter, I tried to imagine my Ava being in her daughter’s position and I couldn’t. What I raised is a drop in the bucket for St. Jude. But I was glad I did.

Without being a Hero, I wouldn’t have been at the dinner and heard that. Again, it was all meant to be.

The Race
So anyways, I ran the race. The course is moderately hilly. Not an easy course, but not an incredibly difficult course. Temps were fairly cool, in the mid-50s at the start and probably about 60 when it ended. Humidity was very high (84 percent) and it was windy, maybe 20-25 mph at several points in the race.

Walking around before the race, my right knee started to hurt the way it has been lately — flare-ups from tendinits and an inflamed IT band. Once I got going, I felt fine, though. Well, my knee did. My body never felt good. I knew from about the first mile that I didn’t have it and it was going to be a long day.

I started to feel sluggish at about mile 8 and I could feel my stride starting to shorten at about mile 12. That’s way too early for that. Things got progressively worse, although while the day seemed to drag on, the miles flew by. I guess I’m getting used to the routine.

I wasn’t crazy about the course. I enjoyed running down Beale, seeing the local culture. And at mile 2, I heard a house up on a hill blasting “Walking In Memphis,” which I guess I had to hear at least once. The highlight of the course was running through the St. Jude campus. There were a fair amount of people there. I don’t know if any of them were patients. I’d figure a lot of the adults were parents or relatives of patients.

Since I was wearing my Heroes singlet, I heard, “thank you hero!” a lot throughout the race from spectators. I heard it a lot at St. Jude, and I assumed that was coming from parents of patients. Again, my eyes started to well up. I was so glad to be a part of this and to have done a tiny part to help.

Throughout the race, it was constantly on my mind how much of a message I was getting. I knew I was meant to be there. I’m so grateful that while I have a son who has a permanent mental disability and will struggle with his autism forever, forever will be a long time. None of my kids have any life-threatening diseases.

So, I ran a marathon in 3:26, about 12 minutes slower than I’d hoped. Big deal. I get another try tomorrow. Life could be worse.

By the way, if you’d like to make a donation to St. Jude’s, click here to visit my donation page!


Me and Laura at the finish.

What's Up With OJ Friday

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Operation Jack supporter Sarah Emerson told me the other day she misses my WUWOJ blogs. So I said … what? What is woo-wojj? And then I realized she’s going back about six months, when I used to write a “What’s Up With Operation Jack Wednesday” blog. I told her I’d write one for her on Thursday. But I ran out of time. So I’m posting it for her today. And really, this begs the question: If a boring blog gets posted on a Friday, when social media is dead, does it really get posted?

I guess I’ll find out if anybody other than Sarah comments.

Real quick, just in case you’ve never been here before, welcome — we’re approaching last call! I’m a father of three and a marathon runner and my middle child, 7-year-old Jack, is severely autistic. He’s probably always going to struggle, but I still want him to make a difference in the world. To try to make some good out of what he goes through, I’m attempting to run 61 full marathons this year to raise money and awareness for a charity I’m a part of called Train 4 Autism.

So far, I’m through 56 of them. There’s five to go in Operation Jack, the name I gave this endeavor as a tribute to my little guy. Sarah wants to know what’s up with Operation Jack. So here goes!

Operation Jack Marathon
I guess the first thing I should do is plug the Operation Jack Marathon, which will be the 61st and final marathon I run this year. Actually, it’s the Operation Jack Marathon presented by Apriori Beauty, a company I work for that generously kicked in a very healthy donation to Operation Jack.

Registrations are moving along pretty well and I’m excited about the turnout it looks like we’re going to have. I’m actually kind of nervous, because I’m putting this race on with the help of Operation Jack supporter Jake Rome and the good folks from Train 4 Autism, and I don’t want to let anybody down. We have things under control, though. It should be a nice day running along the beach, celebrating with everybody and continuing to promote Train 4 Autism.

Operation Jack Satellite Runs
A lot of people want to participate in the finale to support what I’ve tried to do this year, but it’s unrealistic considering it’s the morning after Christmas and it’s in the Los Angeles area. So, we have a satellite run option. Run 6.1 miles, wherever you are, and we’ll send you a race t-shirt and a finisher’s medal.

I want to get participants in all 50 states and we’re getting there. I want to do this for a couple of reasons. First, obviously, it’s one last fundraiser. But also, it’s one last attempt to spread the word about Train 4 Autism. So, check out the states that we have don’t have people in and if you know anybody there, would you be so kind as to drop them a line? That’s easier than running 61 marathons in a year, right?

The cost for this is $25, which, like I said, includes a race t-shirt and a finisher’s medal. Or, if you want, set up a fundraising page at operationjack.kintera.org/61 and raise just $30 and I’ll waive the entry fee for you.

Running On Empty
Sarah already knew about the Operation Jack Marathon and the Operation Jack Satellite Runs. She’s participating in Maine and is rounding up a pretty good-sized team. So now I need to come up with something about Operation Jack that’s going on that she doesn’t know. But I don’t really know that there is much going on.

Right now, I can sense the finish line for this long, long year. I visualize it when I run. I visualize it when I walk. I visualize it when I sleep. I visualize it when I wake up in a panic in the middle of the night. I’m trying hard to promote the marathon and satellite run. But beyond that, I’m pretty much cooked.

I try not to look back at what coulda/shoulda/woulda, because while I’m confident I’ve accomplished some good, it’s easy to look back at a ton of missed opportunities and things that didn’t work out as well as I would have hoped. I kept telling myself I’d pick it up here or there later, but later is now, and I’m 23 days from wrapping this thing up. I don’t want to say I’ve stopped trying, but really, aside from making sure we put on a good event on the 26th, there’s not a lot I can do.

I don’t foresee any new promotions or campaigns because there’s no time, and it’s time for the holiday season slowdown. I have my last double of the year this weekend, with Memphis Saturday and Las Vegas on Sunday. Then it’s Tucson, Jacksonville and the Operation Jack Marathon. I got a taste of freedom last weekend because my race was on Friday, so I got to spend Saturday and Sunday at home with the family. It was just a normal family weekend, but it’s been a year since I’ve had one of those and I really can’t wait to get back into that routine.

I don’t want to say I’m just mailing it in, because I’m not. I still follow up every lead, I still train and I still do my absolute best in every race I run. But I think it’s fair to say I’m running on empty.

Please Accept My Apology!
I’ve gotten really good at dropping the ball this year. I’ve really struggled to keep up with responding to all the feedback that comes in and I know I’m not getting to a ton of things I need to do. I read every email and tweet that comes in, but I just run out of time to respond. If any of you are waiting on a response from me for something, just keep bugging me. I don’t ignore people. I just get overwhelmed and I don’t know what to attack first. If you follow up with me on something I’ve failed to respond to, you’re not bugging me. You’ll actually probably get an apology!

Along those lines, if we owe you any Operation Jack clothing, PLEASE let me know. We’re not the most well-oiled machine when it comes to getting those out and I really want to get you all everything you’re supposed to get.

If you’re not listed on the Satellite Runs page, I’m about a day behind right now. If it’s been longer than that and you need to be up there, let me know and I’ll get you listed.

One Simple Request
If I could ask for just one thing, it would be to help spread the word about Operation Jack. If you’re on Twitter, tell your followers. If you’re on Facebook, post a link to the site or the satellite run or the marathon on your wall. I know y’all come here because you believe in what I’m trying to accomplish. Getting people here doesn’t cost you anything and it’s what makes what I’m doing a success. You never know who that one extra person who will benefit from Train 4 Autism is. It might well be somebody one of your friends knows!

Do The Right Thing
On my flight from Atlanta to Memphis this morning, there was one seat available in first class and it went to … me! It was next to a teenager whose dad was back in coach. I gave the seat to the dad. I figure that someday, somebody will return the favor. And if not, I’ll still live happily ever after.

That’s Pretty Much It
I think I’ve rambled on enough. Plus, my layover here in Atlanta is just about over and I need to catch my flight. Have a great Friday, everybody (even you, Sarah). I’ll post a race report tomorrow after Memphis.

Guest Blog: Step Up For The Operation Jack Marathon!

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I love guest blogs for a couple of reasons. First, it’s interesting to get somebody else’s perspective on the same things I normally write about. And of course, it’s awesome because I don’t have to write anything and I still have a blog to post! Today, I have a guest blog from Jake Rome, who’s been super-excited about Operation Jack all year and is working very hard behind the scenes on the Operation Jack Marathon. He wrote this unsolicited. If anybody else wants a guest blog here, don’t be shy!

Real quick, if this is your first time here, click here to see why I’m trying to run 61 marathons this year for Train 4 Autism.

Now, some words from Jake:

We need to step up for Sam & Jack. It’s been a long year for Sam & his family as he has worked tirelessly to raise money for Train 4 Autism while helping to establish the organization across the country. The marathons are the easy part. The travel is tough, obviously. The time away from Sam’s family is a challenge for all. Yet there he is blogging, tweeting & generally promoting the effort to build support across a dozen distinct communities. While Operation Jack has certainly been a success and looks set to meet expectations with over $70,000 raised so far, there’s still one more chance to put the effort over the top. I want to double that number.

This last, best opportunity is the Operation Jack Marathon & Half Marathon on December 26 right along the beach in Los Angeles. As part of Sam’s support network, you’ve been amazing, and now’s the time to dig deep one last time to put the effort over the top. Along with Sam & other Train 4 Autism members, I’ve spent dozens of hours this month to organize, fund & promote the Operation Jack Marathon. Sam has been working twice as hard for over a year without a break. So I’m asking everyone, right now to help Sam in one or more of the following ways, right now:

– For those living in Southern California, sign up to run the half marathon or the marathon.
– If you’re outside of Southern California, sign up for a satellite run that you can complete from your own front doorstep.
– All in Southern California are welcome to volunteer then hang around for the post-party. Contact Molly Rearick (mollyrearick@train4autism.org) at Train 4 Autism to volunteer on race day.
– Heck, there’s an organized run in Portland!
– Set up a fund raising page and ask your friends & family to sponsor you.
– Or just donate. I’m personally matching the first $5 of every donation made through my fund raising page.
– If you’ve got a small business & want to be a race sponsor for $100 (web) or $500 (t-shirt), send me an email right now! (jake@core4you.org)

Then after you’ve signed up to run, volunteer, fundraise or donate, there’s one more step. Send out an email or a Tweet, update your Facebook status or make a few phone calls, write a blog post or post the race fliers. Whatever it takes to get the word out. Sam has certainly honored his son, and the world will be richer for Jack because of all the hard work he has inspired among this community. Sam’s and Jack’s story is amazing, and it should be heard not for Sam’s benefits; rather, the story needs to be told because everyone that hears their tale is uplifted by it and moved to action in their own lives. Act now, for yourself, for Sam, and for everyone else that has yet to be touched by Sam and Jack.

By A Fence? Really?

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Over the weekend, I had some friends over for a small get-together, and one of them asked me if I ever blogged about the fun I had after my first marathon. I’m pretty sure I haven’t, and I’m absolutely certain it would be WRONG for me go through this entire year without relaying the story, so today, you’re in for a treat.

Real quick, just in case you’ve never been here before, I’m a father of three and a marathon runner. My middle child, 7-year-old Jack, is severely autistic. I want to try to make a difference, and I want Jack to have an impact on the world, so I’m attempting to run 61 full marathons this year and raise money and awareness for a charity I’m a part of called Train 4 Autism. I named this endeavor Operation Jack after him, because I wouldn’t be doing this if not for him.

Last Friday, I ran marathon No. 56 of the year, the Wishbone Run in Gig Harbor, Wash. It was a pretty challenging run on trails covered by snow, ice and mud. You can read my recap here.

That was my 84th lifetime marathon. But I’m going to talk about the aftermath of my first full. How’s that for a pretty weak transition?

I was looking forward to my first marathon, and like most people attacking their first full, I planned on making a big weekend out of it. It was the 2006 San Diego Rock ‘N Roll Marathon. June 4, 2006. That was my day, my weekend. I owned it!

I stayed with friends the night before the race in a fifth wheel (kind of like an RV) about 10 miles from the start line. My brother was with us and he drove me to the start. I ran to the finish. Since it was my first marathon, it was a big deal to everybody.

My wife and kids were there at the end. My parents were there. My in-laws were there, too. Several friends were there. As a group, we had several cars, although, as I mentioned, I ran to the finish after getting dropped off at the start. I didn’t know where in the parking lot those cars were. I was limping around and feeling pretty miserable. I certainly wasn’t used to that kind of pounding on my legs.

I had the opportunity to leave the finish area with my brother and friends, but I gave that spot in the car to my dad, because I wanted to ride back to the campground with the fifth wheel with my wife and kids in her Suburban. So, I was with my wife and kids, my in-laws and my stepmom. The parking lot was a huge dirt parking lot. HUGE. You could get lost in there for hours (Hint: That was foreshadowing!).— It all looked the same and it seemed to go on forever.

We started walking to the car. Apparently, it was in the second row, all the way to the right. The group was certain of that. We kept walking and walking and walking. No Suburban. After a while, somebody I was with was convinced we had gone too far so we turned around because we must have walked right by it. I really wanted to find the car, sit down and go back to the fifth wheel to take a shower and eat. We had a barbecue planned.

After about 30 minutes of aimless wandering, I called up my dad, since he rode down in the Suburban. He was on speakerphone via bluetooth, so my friends got to hear the conversation. I was extremely frustrated.

“Hey, do you remember where the car is?”

He nonchalantly told me he didn’t remember. I decided to ask again.

“OK, let me rephrase the question,” I calmly said. I was extremely irritated by the situation at this point, and this is when I exploded. “ACT LIKE YOUR LIFE (expletive) DEPENDS ON IT. WHERE IN THE (expletive) IS THE (expletive) CAR?”

That rattled him, and I felt bad, but I wanted to find the car!

“Uhhhh,” he said, just about trembling, “by a fence?”

My friends were laughing hysterically. I was not. For starters, there was no fence! Plus, I wanted to sit down, but I knew I couldn’t, because if I did, I wouldn’t get back up. So we kept looking at every car, right along where my wife, in-laws and stepmom said it would be. They said second row, but I looked at every car from the front to the back, in every row from the first to the fourth.

After about an hour had passed, we were right by a big sign with a letter B. I was beyond angry. I couldn’t believe this was happening.

So, I questioned the group.

“Does anybody remember one of these big signs with a letter on it when you parked? You know, like B, for boy?”

No response. Just silence. I think they were scared to talk to me.

“C? Cat?” Still, no response.

“D? DUMMIES?” Definitely no response, and no anger back towards me and my frustration.

They kept offering to let me sit down, but I knew I wouldn’t get up. And something chivalrous about me didn’t feel right letting my wife and stepmom and mother-in-law search for the car while I sat. My father-in-law, different story.

I broke away from the group (but had my phone), and kept searching for the car. After about an hour and 15 minutes, my sister-in-law, who was 80 miles away but knew what was going on, tried calling OnStar to get them to honk our horn. We had let our service expire, though, plus in a lot that size, I don’t think it would have helped.

About 10 minutes later, my wife asked one of the lot attendants where they might have parked if they showed up somewhere around 9:15 or 9:30. I wouldn’t have known this, because I was at around mile 17. But apparently, they were likely either in lot 4 or lot 5. Tiff called me and told me this.

I walked to lot 4, which was in the middle of the parking lot, not all the way over to the right, where everybody was certain the car was. But you know what? Lot 4 was … surrounded by a fence. As soon as I saw it, I knew, based on the ridiculous clue from my dad, that the Suburban was in there. I also knew, since everybody was so adamant about it being in these second row all the way over to the right, that all I had to do was walk in on the right side of the lot, turn down the second aisle and I’d find it.

That’s what I did, and sure enough, about 20 cars down was the one we’d spent 90 minutes searching for. Yeah, I’m the one who found it in that massive parking lot, even though I was the only one who wasn’t there when it was originally parked. Thanks to my dad for the clue, huh?

I called Tiff and told here where it was and I didn’t move an inch. I just waited. Within 10 minutes, I finally got to sit down. I’d been on my feet for a good six hours at that point if you count the 20 minutes before the race.

I knew even before we found the car that I’d be telling the story for years. But now, I also make very certain to text myself where I parked the car before a race so I don’t have a repeat of this episode.

Ask Me Anything!
I don’t really remember how, but I came upon a site called Formspring earlier this year. I got a few questions over the weekend out of nowhere, so I answered them. It’s kind of fun (well, at least for me), and if you’ve had any questions you ever wanted to ask me, you can do so anonymously and get your answer. Ask away at www.formspring.me/operationjack!

Operation Jack Marathon
We’re less than four weeks away from the Operation Jack Marathon! If you haven’t registered, or even seen what it is, take a look! If you’re not going to be in the area, take a look at our Satellite Run option. I have some Satellite Run registrants I need to put on that list. Sorry about the delay — I’ll get you up today.

And I think that’s all for today. Have a great Tuesday … I’ll be back here with a guest blog for tomorrow!