Operation Jack

Fighting autism, one mile at a time.

We Just Got Exactly What We Wanted!

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Who hasn’t had the What’s-The-First-Thing-You’d-Do-If-You-Won-The-Lottery discussion? Tiff and I have, and there’s something we’d do before buying a new car or taking a trip. Lucky for us, we just got it on Saturday.

For us, that lottery splurge would be sessions in hyperbaric chambers for Jack. Just in case you’re new here, I’m a marathon runner and father of three. My middle child, 6-year-old Jack, is severely autistic, and next year I’m planning on running 60 marathons to raise money and nationwide awareness for a charity called Train 4 Autism. I named the endeavor Operation Jack after him, hence the name of this site.

Anyways, back to the hyperbaric chamber. We’ve heard lots of success stories of children with autism who have delayed speech showing rapid improvement in that area after treatments. Jack’s speech is very limited. He can do some counting and some repeating, but not a whole lot beyond that. We’ve wanted to get him sessions, but it’s not something that’s in our budget right now. So, I’ll rewind to August 15.

I was at a resource fair trying to spread the word about Operation Jack. At the table next to me was Mark Westaway of Advanced Hyperbarics. Mark is a really nice guy and we spent the evening talking about all sorts of things. He works a lot with special-needs children, but he also works with athletes. The sessions help athletes recover and are pretty popular amongst professionals.

Jack, with his autism, and me, with my high-mileage running, are both logical prospects to use Mark’s services. The hyperbaric chambers at Advanced Hyperbarics are big enough for multiple people to use at the same time, so Jack and I participating in joint sessions makes total sense. On August 15, I think we won the lottery without even plunking down $1, because Mark offered complimentary services between now and the end of Operation Jack next year for me and Jack.

When I got home that night and told Tiff, she was speechless. It was like a dream come true. This was something we’ve talked about for a while. I really hope that Operation Jack does lots of great things, from raising money for autism-related charities to raising awareness for Train 4 Autism to encouraging people to live a healthier lifestyle. I’m excited to have an opportunity to make a difference. But beyond all of that, from a selfish standpoint, if these sessions get Jack rolling with the speech, then running myself into the ground next year will be totally worth it as a dad. I’m pretty sure any other dad would feel the same way.

Anyways, Saturday was our first session. It was really sad — Jack was TOTALLY freaked out when he saw it. He tried to run out of the building. He was terrified and crying hysterically. I hate seeing him struggle, but this was truly heartbreaking. Words can’t really explain what it was like. I never want to see him like that again.

Mark deals with a lot of special-needs children and is very good with them. He was very patient and we worked together to try to get Jack to calm down. He wasn’t 100% calm, but I carried him in for our first session and within a few minutes, he was OK. We sat there for an hour, watching his Baby Einstein DVDs, hanging out and checking out our surroundings. By the time we were done, everything was fine. Jack actually wanted to keep playing in the chamber. I tried to pull him away, but Mark suggested I let him have fun with it for a few minutes, so that next weekend, he’ll looking forward to climbing in when we get there.

It’s not realistic to determine what kind of a difference it made with him after one session. I’m not sure how it impacted me, although I went on a 30-mile run yesterday and felt stronger than I have lately. I plan on running long next Saturday before I go in, so I’ll be curious to see how I feel next Sunday and Monday.

So for us, we got to cash in the first of our residual lottery checks on Saturday. I’ll definitely keep you posted and let you know how the continued treatments go! Thank you, Mark!

Tiff's First Marathon: He Said/She Said!

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Any of you who have been following my blog at Operation Jack know my wife, Tiffany, ran her first marathon Sunday and that I ran it with her. I was going to write a race report about the race as my blog for today, but my friend Erin Ruff suggested Tiff write the race report. I’m going to get the best of both worlds with a he said/she said take on the race.

Sam Says:
Long Beach has always been a pretty good course for me. I ran a 17-minute PR my first time there, I ran my first Boston qualifier the next year, and ran a 3:06 last year with a bad hamstring. Three races, all were great. I was hopeful that Tiff could have a good experience out there, too.

She really wanted to run a 3:40 and qualify for Boston. That’s kind of an ambitious goal for a marathon debut, but I thought it was on the edge of what was possible. She ran a 1:45 half marathon in January, and has battled injuries since then, but I think she’s a little bit faster than she was back then. Tiff’s spring was filled with great long runs. She ramped up the distance and held sub-9 paces on long, hilly runs stretching to 20 miles — a great job for somebody looking for a 3:40.

But she got hurt, battled issues with inflammation in her right leg and missed her first shot at a marathon — San Diego Rock N Roll on May 31. The inflammation was off and on over the summer, but the speed was there. She ran a hilly 17-miler in late July at an 8:42 pace, a decent run.

Heading into Sunday’s race, I was concerned about her inflammation and her endurance. Her longest run was 20, which she had done only once, and that was six months ago. We went out for a 20 two weeks ago, but we cut it short to 10 because her inflammation was bothering her. She told me it was something she thought she could run through, but she didn’t think it was worth aggravating. I thought we’d go in, I’d keep her in range for 16-18 miles, and then we’d see how her cardio held up. I planned on monitoring her effort and heart rate, doing the math on the time in my head, and making a decision somewhere after 20 on when to turn it up.

When the race started, she seemed right on the edge of her 3:40 goal, but once we settled in, I knew by about 5 or 6 miles in that she was going to probably on the outside looking in. Still, I thought she would probably have a good chance at running a 3:45, which would a) be one heck of a marathon debut, and b) qualify her for Boston 2011 (she’ll be 35 for that one). Maybe not the time she was looking for, but she’d be flat-out in for the Boston Marathon in 2011. Can’t argue with that.

She was complaining that I was running her too slow, but I tried over and over to explain that if 3:45 was the best she could do and she tried to run a 3:40, she’d blow up, fatigue early and run 30 minutes slow. I’ve run 26 marathons now, so I’ve made plenty of mistakes that she doesn’t need to repeat! She kept ticking the miles off perfectly. She wasn’t too talkative, but that was OK. We weren’t out there for conversation — we were out there to rip through a marathon.

And then, it started. The inflammation flared up, somewhere in the neighborhood of 15 or so. I thought she’d fight through it, and she told me a few minutes later that it was starting to feel better. But then about a mile or two later, the inflammation kicked in for good, and the downhill spiral began. I didn’t let her worry about her time — I just tried to keep her rolling. I know how important her time was to her, so I was just trying to push her in any way possible.

She slowed down a little, but then she slowed down a lot. Her slow run turned into a shuffle, then some walking and it was obvious she was in a lot of pain. I didn’t know what to say or do to try to motivate her. I ran out of buttons to push, and I was wondering if she was in pain or if she was going soft. I don’t care what time she runs, but I want her to look back on her effort fondly. Only she would know if she was really going all-out, and I thought she probably was. But I just wasn’t sure, and I’ve never been involved a breakdown this epic or a race this slow. I really didn’t know what to do out there, so I just stayed with her and tried to keep her rolling. I’ll be honest — I got a little frustrated with her and I let her know that. I just wanted her to give it her all. In hindsight, I hope I wasn’t being too much of a jerk.

She picked it up a little bit over the last 1.25 miles, but despite having a reasonable chance at 3:45 at around 17 or 18, she finished in 4:22:41. At least she beat my time on Sunday by one second! Apparently, I ran a 4:22:42! The way she struggled yesterday, I don’t think she’ll ever run another marathon. But I know she toughed it out through a lot of pain. I’m proud of her effort. Her training was tough and her race was tough. I just hope she realizes what she did is incredibly difficult. Even though they look like they come pretty easy to me, every time I run them, I think to myself about how difficult they really are. They’re hard. They’re challenging. And really, out of my 26, I’d say that maybe three have gone the way I want them to.

So yeah, I’m proud of her. That’s my take.


Before.

During.

After.

Tiff Says:
On the morning of the marathon I was more excited than nervous because I felt so blessed that I even was able to make it to the starting line! Honestly, I thought that I would have a fair crack at the 3:40 goal. I told myself I wouldn’t be surprised if I didn’t get that time but I’d still be happy if I finished sub-4. At the starting line, I was a little nervous, but not that much. Still, I was just happy to be standing there. I told myself that if I just stayed calm and relaxed, that would help me during my run. I guess some of it’s psychological. I told myself that I was just gonna go out there and run two half-marathons … that made me feel better than thinking it was a full!

As soon as the gun went off, me, Sam and our friend Ben were fired up to go. Sam told me to tell him every few minutes or so what my heart rate was and that if it went above 175, to let him know so we could slow down. He didn’t want me to overdo my cardio early into the race because then I’d burn out fast. My heart rate stayed a touch higher than I wanted it to. For about 16 miles it ranged mostly around the 173-177 area. At around 12 miles I was starting to think that my chances of my 3:40 were slim-to-none. Once I saw the 3:40 pace drift out of sight at around mile 15, I knew that I needed to shoot for a sub 4 goal.

At around mile 17, my inflammation started hurting a lot. I felt a lot of sharp shooting pains in my ankle, achilles and right off my shin. Sam warned me not to stop and walk even for a few steps because if I did, my legs would stiffen up and it would be hard to start running after that. Well, that’s easier said than done. The pain was unbearable in my ankle and I had to walk. What a huge mistake that was! Right after the first walk is when I spiraled downhill. My whole body was in pain. I could barely lift my feet up off the ground to run again. My jogging turned into a shuffle that turned into a walk again. From that point on, it was shuffling, walking, shuffling, walking (with some whimpering as well).

I couldn’t believe that I was in the same body I had started the race in. I felt like I was in a body that had never run before. Everything for about eight miles was a complete blur/nightmare. I wanted to practice mind-over-matter but was unsuccessful. All I wanted to do was get to the finish line, then go home and lay down.

Once I crossed the finish line, I thought to myself, NEVER AGAIN! From now on, I’ll just work on half marathons. I was disappointed in myself as well. I thought, “how did this happen when my training runs were so promising?” I realized then that maybe, probably, I would’ve run a better race if not for the inflammation. I know it sounds like I’m making excuses, but I think that had something to do with it. And I should’ve never started walking!

After swearing to never doing it again, the next morning I woke up thinking to myself that I should train for another one next year … probably the Long Beach one since I really enjoyed the course. Surprisingly enough, it’s not my time that upset me the most. What upset me the most is the fact that after putting in so much time and effort in training, it wasn’t fair that I was left with such a miserable memory of my marathon. Next year, I’m going to make sure I go into the race completely healthy. I know marathons aren’t supposed to be easy, but they should at least be fun, in a weird sort of way.

That’s It!
Thanks for reading!

What A First-Time Race In Long Beach Yesterday!

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If you’ve read my blog, you know my wife made her marathon debut yesterday in Long Beach. I’ve talked about it a lot, I’ve been excited about running with her, and we finally got to tackle a marathon together yesterday. But I’ll talk about her another day. Today, I’m going to talk about my brother Josh, who completed the Long Beach Half Marathon yesterday. It’s flat-out amazing that he was able to do what he did.

I’m going to rewind to February 28, 1993. That’s the day that my little brother got in a car wreck so bad that the coroner came to the accident scene. It happened about 250 yards from the house in the morning, so a neighbor let me know while I was eating my breakfast and I was on the scene immediately. It’s something I’ll never forget. It was horrific seeing my little brother, only 16, getting cut out of a car with the jaws of life. My dad thought his left leg looked so bad when they pulled him out that it would end up being amputated.

He ended up having his shattered hip operated on that day, he spent about a month in traction, missed a semester of school, he had to use a walker for a while, he wore ankle-to hip braces, he’s had countless knee surgeries over the past 16 years … basically, he has horrible legs — his left leg and right leg are both thrashed. He saw me at the end of the Pacific Shoreline Marathon (now Surf City) in 2007 and got inspired to run a marathon. One treadmill workout later, he tore up his knee (again) and went under the knife (again).

On top of it all, he’s never really been athletic or taken good care of himself. He has gotten into a gym routine over the past year or so, but all-in-all, he’s probably about the last person you’d expect to run a half marathon.

In the spring, he started talking about running a half marathon. I didn’t necessarily doubt him, but I didn’t have 100% confidence. His injury risk, the chance that maybe he’d get sidetracked and fall off of a training plan … in hindsight, I’d say I probably would have given him a 60% chance of going through with it. That’s not an insult — just an honest guess.

I gave him a training plan, and when I told him about Operation Jack while I was planning it, I think he really locked in on this. He can have a very tough exterior at times, but he has a softer spot for Jack than probably anybody on this planet. Well, maybe Tiff has him beat, but maybe not. Josh is proud that he has the same initials as Jack (JAF) and he probably wouldn’t admit that he had a favorite out of my three kids, but if he took a truth serum, I know he’d say Jack.


Josh is the good-looking guy on the right with “Josh” on his bib. I’m the better-looking guy on the left.

Anyways, he stuck with it, did his long runs and got himself ready for the race. I saw him at the expo on Saturday and I could tell he was excited. He asked me a few questions about race day when I saw him, then texted me with some more on Saturday night. I thought it was going to be pretty cool that I’d see him as a fellow participant after a race, not just as the president of my fan club (I swear, I think he’s been to more of my race finishes than my wife!). I glanced around in the starting area but didn’t see him. But the race started and I got rolling.

During the race, I focused on Tiff, but I thought about him, doing the math at times and wondering where he was. At one point, me and Tiff were talking about how he was doing and where he probably was. I thought he would run a 1:55, and I knew he started about five minutes after us, so I figured when we hit the two-hour mark, he was done.

He ended up with a 2:05, but there’s nothing wrong with that. As I pointed out to him when I saw him in the finishers area, he beat my debut half-marathon time by 24 minutes! And while I came from being overweight, he has Evil Knievel’s legs! That’s a really bad thing for a distance runner. It was really cool seeing him standing there with a medal around his neck. It was something I’d never expected to see and I was really proud of him.

So, good job, dude! Yet set out to get this done, and you took care of business. I hope you always look back on yesterday with fondness!

Making The Comparison Between Ice Cream And A National-Champion Runner

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Comparing ice cream and a national-champion runner is kind of a stretch, but I have a way to do it, and I needed something for a headline. Yesterday, I had frozen yogurt and ice cream to stretch my streak of eating ice cream or frozen yogurt to 106 days. I decided I’d write about some other streaks I’ve had in my life. But before I get to those, I want to talk about the success streak of one of Operation Jack’s amazing coaches — one of the nicest, fastest guys you’ll ever meet.

John Loftus, a great guy, a friend of mine and an RRCA-certified long-distance running coach, graciously volunteered to help Operation Jack with our Ask The Coaches feature. On Sunday, the Marathon Gods were good to him for his service, rewarding him with a healthy PR at the Medtronic Twin Cities Marathon in the USA Men’s Masters National Championships.

John turned in a 2:41:19, an amazing time for a 21-year-old. Of course, John is 51. The run was good for second in his age group, amazing for a national-championship event. He went up there aiming for a sub-2:40, and he was on track late. He was also just 16 seconds shy of winning his age group. So, he didn’t hit those two goals. But to him, I say the same thing he tells me when I run well despite not hitting pretty time barriers (for me, a sub-3) — he ran an amazing time and has nothing to be ashamed of.

Sunday continued an amazing run he’s had over the past year. He won his age group in this race to capture a national championship last year. This April, he won his age group in the Carlsbad 5000, the nation’s most competitive 5K. Three weeks later, he won his age group in the Boston Marathon, the nation’s most competitive race at that distance. And Sunday, a PR and a second-place finish in a national-championship event.

How fast is John? Well, for comparison’s sake, I’m not the fastest guy in the world, but I’ve won age group awards in distances from 5K up to the marathon, I have 12 Boston qualifiers in my 25 marathons and I have a marathon PR of 3:00:05. And John’s 5K split on Sunday (yes, during the marathon, so it was a conservative pace) was 37 seconds faster than my 5K PR. Mind boggling. Nice job, John … proud of ya!

Sam’s Streaks
I’ve got the ice cream streak going. 106 days now. It’s not something I really planned on, but it just kind of happened and the longer it goes, the tougher it’s going to be to snap it. Here are some other streaks I’ve had in my life:

– My dad used to buy season tickets to the Angels in the 1990s. In 1991, I went to 60 consecutive home games without a miss. My mom wrecked it, though. She was living in North Carolina and bought plane tickets for me and my brother to go visit her and she didn’t even look at the baseball schedule first. Totally inconsiderate. She reads my blog, and she’s probably saying, “Bite your tongue!” Heck no. It’s my blog. Thanks for nothing.

– In 2000 and 2001, I worked as sports information director at Orange Coast College out here in California. Spring is busy for college athletics and in 2001, I went 78 consecutive days (including weekends) without a day off. That was kind of a bummer. That’s also why I didn’t work there in 2002!

– I’ve never really been a running streaker (for those of you non-runners, that means somebody who runs every day). I never really intend to take days off, but the longest running streak I think I’ve ever been on was about 55 or so days in August and September of 2007. Now that I think about it, I think I had a stretch of eight or nine straight days with a run of at least 16 miles earlier this year. I thought that was pretty cool at the time.

– In the Fall 1995 semester at K-State, in the ultimate anti-streak, I didn’t have a single week where I didn’t miss a class. Every Monday, I told myself, “this will be the week.” Never was it the week, though. Amazingly, I went on academic probation and was kindly asked by my dad to find a different hobby and stop wasting his money. I went back to school in the spring of 1997 and didn’t miss a class the entire semester. A funny thing happened when I went to class: I doubled my GPA!

– I wasn’t the greatest student in high school. I’m a pretty sharp guy, but I certainly didn’t work hard until I got to college (and even there, I had that bad semester at KSU!). Due to an absolute lack of effort, I went 24 consecutive report cards (progress reports, quarter grades, semester grades) with at least one D or F. The first report card I had without a D or an F during my entire high school career was the first semester of summer school after my junior year, when I got a C in my only class, English.

– During that year off from college when I was on academic probation, I lived in Las Vegas. One day, I went to the Gold Coast to play 25-cent roulette. I played with a method called “negative progressive” betting, where you double your bet each time you lose. The theory is that once you finally win, you recoup your losses. If you’re betting black, how many times in a row could it possibly come up red? And how much money could you possibly lose?

I played for hours. I’d lose 2, 3, 4 times in a row, but then it would come up black, and I had all my money back. My betting pattern was $0.25, $0.50, $1, $2, $5, $10 and so on. My incredible streak that day was nine consecutive reds. NINE. Too bad I was betting black. A quarter, a half-dollar, $1, $2, $5, $10, $20, $40, $80. Gone x 9. I was only winning a quarter or a dollar with every win, so I’d only earned about $25 through all those hours of playing. All of a sudden, I had $160 as my bet.

I had originally bought in for $20. I lost an additional $140. And I had an additional $160 down now, wondering if my streak would hit 10. This was my last chance, and once the dealer locked in the bets, my stomach sank, because I realized I’d have problems explaining to Tiff how I lost $300 or so on 25-cent roulette. But it came up black. I tipped the dealer $5, left the table with what ended up being about a $20 net profit, and I never played roulette again!

Bad Joke Of The Day
Back when I was in college, I used to drink a lot of beer. I’d get drunk, take my clothes off and run through campus. It was a big problem. I nearly got arrested a few times. I loved the rush though, and I just couldn’t quit. But finally, I stopped drinking beer and started drinking Windex. That stopped the streaking.

Three More Days Until I Run A Marathon With My Wife!
I’m going to blog about the race through her persepctive as much as I can next Monday. If you have any questions you want me to ask her, let me know! Have a great Thursday, everybody. I’m planning on In-N-Out for lunch. I hope you enjoy your mid-day meal as much as I will!

Why I'm Grateful To Live In California

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Even with the housing crisis and lousy economy, it’s expensive to live in California. Housing prices are ridiculous, and they have been for years and years. Most people think the reason so many people want to live here is because it’s at least 70 degrees for about 362 days a year. Lots of people think it’s because you can ski in the mountains in the morning, then surf in the ocean in the afternoon. But really, who does that? And how often? The true reason that everybody wants to live in California can be summed up in three words: In-N-Out.

For those of you who don’t know what In-N-Out is, I offer my condolences. In-N-Out is, dollar-for-dollar, the best food on the planet. Here’s what $6 got me for lunch yesterday:


Yeah, this was good.

I’m a clydesdale, which for you non-runners out there means I’m a heavyweight. I weigh about 202 right now, which is off the charts for a marathoner who runs races at the paces I do. With the number of miles I run and the calories I burn, it takes a lot of work (read: eating) to stay heavy. So, you know that when I say something tastes good, it tastes good. When I took that picture yesterday at lunch, I knew I had to blog about In-N-Out today just so I could post that picture. So, here’s five In-N-Out stories I’ll share because, well, why not? I don’t even know what I’m going to write, but I know I’ll come up with five.

1. In 2001, I spent four weeks on a jury trial at the courthouse in Santa Ana, Calif. There is an In-N-Out walking distance from there and I ate there 15 times over a 23-day span. Boring, boring, boring trial, but totally worth it.

2. In 1995, while I was a student at Kansas State University, I was home at the end of summer to visit. I knew I wouldn’t be coming back until Thanksgiving, so I had my dad run me through the drive-thru on the way (well, out of the way) to the airport. I ended up having to do a mad dash to catch my flight and he was NOT very happy. Never again would he do that, he told me. Fine, whatever. It was worth it.

3. In 2003, I found out my cholesterol was 306 or 307. My doctor told me I needed to lay off the red meat and the dairy. “Basically, stay away from cheeseburgers,” he told me. I told him that was a major problem. I go to In-N-Out every week with two of my best friends, and it would be a crushing blow to have to miss that. I asked him if it would be OK if I eliminated all red meat and dairy from my diet, aside from one double-double per week. He laughed and asked me if I was serious. I was dead serious. And he told me that if I ate no red meat or dairy aside from one double-double per week, that would be a great improvement. Side note to this: During that phone call, my doctor told me I also needed to exercise, but I was afraid I was a walking heart attack. I asked him if I would drop dead. So, he told me, “Well, I wouldn’t go out and run a marathon tomorrow. But you’d be fine if you walked around the block.” I started walking 18 months later.

4. I started a new job in January 2002. The office wanted to take me out to lunch. They asked me where I wanted to go. That was easy. In-N-Out. But they wanted to go to a sit-down place. So I let them pick the spot, because I didn’t really care where we went if I wasn’t getting a double-double. They picked Islands. Oh well.

5. There’s a restaurant in a nearby town named Laguna Hills. I used to go there so often and chit-chat with the restaurant’s manager, Chad, that he would always come over and talk when I came in (I think I originally got his attention with the In-N-Out Hawaiian shirt I used to wear). One time, I walked in, and there was a long line and and one of the four or so registers was closed. Chad saw me from way back in the kitchen, then ran up, opened a register and waved me over and served me. No waiting! You know how Norm walks into Cheers and everybody knows who he is? That was me with Chad.

Oh, and here’s the Halloween costume I’ve worn for the past two years:


Employee of the month!

Last year, I went in to the In-N-Out in Tustin wearing this, because I’m a clown and that’s how clowns operate. Apparently, the red apron is something that folks from the corporate office wear when they visit stores. So, when I walked in, a few employees rushed out to greet me, thinking I was from headquarters. Patrons were laughing and I could tell that all employees were getting a kick out of my outfit. I was hoping I’d score a free milkshake or something, but no such luck. No worries, though. I had a delicious lunch.

Anyways, that’s all I’ve got for today. Four more days until I get to run a marathon with my bride! Have a great Wednesday everybody!