Finally, I know where Operation Jack is going to end. Right here:

This is where the start-finish line will be for the Operation Jack Marathon on December 26. 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’m trying to raise money and awareness for a charity I’m a part of called Train 4 Autism by running 61 marathons this year.

It’s been tough, because I still do everything I can to spend time with my family (I watched Happy Feet with Jack this morning, read Ava three books last night and lost three times, unintentionally, to Benjamin at Uno last night), I work full time, I handle all of the logistics, and then there’s that whole “running one or two or three marathons on the weekend” thing, too.

But I can see the finish line. Literally, now. I’ve completed 52 marathons and an ultramarathon. I have nine marathons to go, and that ninth and final race will be the Operation Jack Marathon on December 26. Well, unless any of you know a potential title sponsor. In that case, the name would change! You can view all the details of the race at operationjack.org/61 or by clicking the “Marathon No. 61” link at the top of any page on this site.

Anyways, I’ve had the “pleasure” of putting together this final race. I had to find a course and Operation Jack supporter Jake Rome was kind enough to help me with that. We have one along the coast and marina at Dockweiler State Beach in Manhattan Beach and Marina Del Ray, Calif.

It’s been quite the process to obtain a permit and insurance. I’ve been through close to a dozen people in various government offices, but we’re all set. It’s going to two scenic laps of a 13.1-mile out-and-back. Half marathoners will only run once. I’m working on the medals, we’ll have aid stations and shirts for participants. There’s also going to be refreshments at the finish line.

Online registration will be available starting tomorrow. The cost is going to be $45 for the half marathon, $55 for the marathon. Reasonable for a race that includes a medal, a t-shirt, aid stations and benefits a charity? I hope so! It should be a good time. I know I’m going to be celebrating when I finish!

Operation Jack started here in Kingwood, Texas, on January 1:

Now, I know where and how it’s going to end!

Over the past few days, a couple of folks have asked me questions about my speed, how long I’ve had it and how hard I’ve had to work to get it. So, I figured I’d write a blog to briefly go over that. I’ve covered this before, but not in a while, so I’ll write about it again.

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’m attempting to run 61 full marathons this year to raise money for a charity I’m a part of called Train 4 Autism.

So far, I’m through 51 of the 61. Getting pretty close!

Anyways, I think I’ve run 20-something Boston qualifiers, including maybe a dozen or so this year. My fastest so far this year is a 3:03, which came two days after a 3:21. I’m not going to win any races running a 3:03, but I know it’s better-than-average speed. I’m frequently asked if I’ve always run at this speed. Nope, not even close!

I was always slow growing up. I never ran a mile faster than 8:30 before my 31st birthday. Not once in my life. Well, I might have hit 8:28 or so in high school, but that’s it.

I started walking as a lose-weight thing when I was 30 and after working up to light jogging, I got dared into running a half marathon a couple of weeks after my 31st birthday. I trained for a bit, but it was still a miserable experience. I went 2:29:45. I’ll consider that my starting point.

From there, I had a simple mentality that I learned from my college days, when I was a student reporter at Kansas State University covering the football team. Head coach Bill Snyder used to say that his goal for the program was to get a little bit better every day. I wanted to get a little bit better every day.

If I ran 6 miles in training at a 10:30 pace, I wanted to run 6 miles at a 10:29 pace the next day. I didn’t’ always pull it off, but I tried hard every day. There was no coaching and no consulting with anybody on message boards or social media. I just went out, ran my best without caring who was watching, and tried to get a little bit better.

I learned pretty early that if I pushed myself, I’d improve. Pretty unsophisticated, huh? I worked hard and I noticed my times getting a little bit better in training. I ran a 2:11 a month later and a 2:08 a month after that. I started training for my first marathon at that point. I had no clue what I was doing. I just knew I needed to taper for the last three weeks.

I started my long runs at 14 miles and aimed for 10:00 a mile. Sometimes I hit it, sometimes I didn’t. But I sure did try hard. I added a mile a week and built it up. Nothing advanced about it. I didn’t run track workouts or tempo workouts or strides. I just tried my best every time out, doing everything I could to bring that average time down by a second.

I ran my first marathon six months after that first half marathon and went 4:06. I started my long runs over at 13 miles, but I worked to keep my average pace below 9:00 a mile. I was still running just 6 or 7 miles for my mid-week runs, maybe three times a week. But I was aiming for that 9:00 pace. I’m sure it wasn’t the smartest way to train, but the concept was simple. I kept pushing, I noticed small gains, and that kept me going. Each week, if I hit the goal in the long run, I added a mile.

18 weeks after that first marathon, I went 3:49 in my second marathon. For the next eight months, all I did was run hard and try to keep getting better. I never had a training plan or a coach and I never did a speed workout. Not one. I gradually increased my mileage, going from an average of 40 or so miles per week to 55 miles per week.

I used to thrive on the difficulties I’d face in training. I’d be running up a hill in the morning, looking into the sun, telling myself Boston was at the top of that hill. I’d be out there running in the dark and in the rain and my neighbors were all warm and comfy in their beds, so I’d tell myself that’s why I was going to go to Boston and they weren’t.

I know I have some natural ability I uncovered, but I had to work to do that. I wanted it, so I went after it, and I got it. On nothing but the “get a little bit better every day” plan, I worked my way up to a 3:21 a year after my first marathon, then I finally poured myself into an 18-week plan complete with all sorts of speedwork and strategic workouts. I ran a 3:07 victory lap at the end of that cycle, earning my way to Boston.

So, any time I ever hear a slower runner say they’ll never qualify for Boston, I just kind of roll my eyes. If you’re even saying that, then a Boston qualifier is something you want. If you want it, get it. Work hard and get a little bit better every day. That’s all I did.

I got a comment on my blog today and I wanted to clear some things up. If one person says it, I’m sure 20 people think it.

On Oct 19, 2010, at 4:45 PM, C Stroud wrote:

Sorry guys, I agree that charity runners are not THE problem at Boston, respectfully submit they don’t belong or at a minimum have outlived their purpose.. Charity running has become an industry unto itself.

And Sam, I don’t know you so this is by no means directed at you, but many people use charity running as merely a means to fund, indulge, or otherwise justify their pursuits. I know a gal who just did an endurance event in all 50 states under the guise of charity. Certainly she raised funds but had her goal been to benefit the charity of her choice, the amount of time spent in the pursuit could have been put to far better or more beneficial use than the funds raised.

And please, do not tell me it is about “awareness”. People are aware of these diseases or causes. Not a single person is now aware of breast cancer because the NFL is using pink shoes and gloves this month. But Campbells has sure sold a lot of pink cans of soup.

———————– My reply: ———————–

FYI, since you seem to be jumping to a few conclusions about me, I want to clear a couple of things up …

1. I agree with you that charity runners are not THE problem at Boston, but as long as they continue to raise money for great causes, they have not outlived their purpose. Charity running has absolutely become an industry. Team In Training (which I have never been a part of) has raised more than $1 billion over the past 20+ years and knowing the percentages of their expenses, they’ve probably spent $220M of that funding races. So, a good $800M or so has gone to fighting leukemia and lymphoma through TNT. That’s HARDLY outliving its purpose.

2. Read this: http://operationjack.org/blog/?m=b&i=48 I don’t know if you’re a spiritual person, but I truly believe God led me down the path I’m on. This year has been incredibly difficult on me and my family and we knew that going in. But I have an idealist’s dream of making the world a better place and with my ability to recover quickly from marathons, I thought this might be a way — especially in the autism world. My son is severely autistic, and as part of my inward way of dealing with knowing that his childhood is ruined, I want to make what he’s going through “worth it” … I want to make things better for other kids if I can. So this was my first attempt at that.

3. Re awareness, I don’t need to make anybody aware of autism, and that’s not what I’m doing. I’m making people aware of Train 4 Autism, a small charity based out here in Southern California that helps people raise money for local autism-related charities that they choose. I think it’s a great vehicle that needs a spark and that’s what I’m trying to do. I have new chapters in Maine, Utah, Kansas, etc., as a result of this and money will be raised for autism-related charities in those areas as a result of what I’ve done. So yes, it is about awareness.

And for what it’s worth, I’ll be 36 on race day next year, so my qualifying time is 3:15:59. I’m in with a 3:03, I have six sub-3:10s and I think 14 or so BQs that count towards that race (so far). So I’ve earned my way in. I understand both sides of the fence and really, it’s pretty disheartening to see such hateful comments come towards me from someone who really didn’t even take the time to find out what I’m all about. You say your comments are not directed at me, but we both know that’s a cop-out.

Take care,
Sam

I had a weekend recap almost completely worked up for today, but with the Boston Marathon opening and closing registration yesterday, I figured I’d address that because I’ve saw a lot of complaining about the way it all went down. Charity runners are getting a bad rap, and that’s just wrong.

Real quick, just in case you’ve never been here, I’m a marathon runner and a father of three. My middle child, 7-year-old Jack, is severely autistic. I decided I wanted to do something to try to make a difference in the autism community, so I’m attempting to run 61 marathons this year to raise money for a charity I’m a part of called Train 4 Autism. So far, I’m on track, through 50 of 61 with only 11 to go!

Anyways, registration for the 2011 Boston Marathon opened yesterday and I registered and got in. Registration was only open for eight hours or so and I’m glad I didn’t delay. Once it closed, though, I started seeing a lot of griping about charity runners on the Boston Marathon’s Facebook page, and that really annoyed me. So, I figured I’d address that today.

If you’re not familiar with the Boston Marathon and it’s qualifying standards, it’s fairly tough to get in. Men 18-34 need to run 3:10:59 or better (7:17 average pace per mile) and women 18-34 need to run 3:40:59 or better (8:23). Many marathon runners set qualifying for Boston as the ultimate goal and spend years getting there. I had to work extremely hard for about two years before I qualified for the first time. I went from a 2:29 in my first half marathon in December 2005 to a 3:07 full marathon in October 2007.

I went and ran Boston in 2008, and I consider it an annual reward for all the training I do. I train hard and really push myself. Boston is a race filled with great runners, great history and great support. I just love it.

In 2008, registration closed in about March. In 2009, it filled in either late January or early February — I don’t specifically remember, but it was around that time. Last year, the Boston Athletic Association made a gamble and sent off an email on October 29 stating that registration was almost full. I didn’t believe it, but I registered anyways, not knowing how many people would take the bait.

You get a number when you register, and fewer than 14,000 people had registered when that email went out. Shrewd move by the BAA — I was right! But within a week, registration was closed and I was in. I knew immediately that I would need to register on the first day this year. Boston had become a race with a reputation of closing early.

I registered yesterday morning, about five hours before registration closed. Then the next thing you know, I’m seeing all sorts of complains about charity runners on the Boston Marathon’s Facebook page, so I decided I’d write about that today. I wrote a quick post yesterday, but I’m following up with what I read about, because it really annoyed me

First of all, there are 26,700 runners in the race. There are 12 corrals and two waves. Each corral has 1,000 runners. 12,000 runners go in the first way and 14,700 go after that. From what I’ve read, there are 1,350 charity runners and about 3,900 entries that are somehow given out or sold through the Boston community to runners who haven’t qualified. So, you’re looking at approximately 5,250 runners out 26,700 who aren’t qualifiers.

Fewer than 5 percent of those are charity runners, and they START AT THE BACK! They’re not taking spots from anybody. They start behind all of the qualifiers, and based on the number of qualifiers, participants and wave one runners, I’m pretty convinced charity runners are add-ons, not spot stealers. Plus, since 1989, Boston Marathon charity runners have raised more than $100 million. Most charity runners are raising more than $3,000. And for that privilege, they get to sweep the course! I don’t know the exact number of entries sold yesterday, but it was probably somewhere in the neighborhood of 21,450.

Over the course of eight hours, that’s about 2,680 an hour. The registration rate probably accelerated during the day, because there were system issues early in the morning. So, take away those 1,350 charity entries and eliminate all the money they raise and give those entries to runners who achieve the qualifying times and you’re looking at registration closing a whopping 30 minutes later. Charity runners clearly did not cause yesterday’s problems.

Other folks are complaining about the entries given to the local community. Here’s something else I have a strong opinion about. The quality of the field and the history of the race are a big part of what makes Boston such a great race. But the local community does, too. They take the day off of work. They line the course and throw parties from start to finish. While residents of most cities complain about road closures, people in Boston treat you like royalty during race weekend.

People are excited to talk to you when they know you’re running the marathon. I had people applaud me when I walked into a bar after the 2008 race. The enthusiasm ranges from kids to college students to senior citizens. I gave hundreds of people high-fives during the race each of the three times I ran it because they come out and make the race what it is, so if they want a high-five, then I’ll give them one.

And along those lines, if the people of Boston want 3,900 entries, I don’t have any problem with the BAA giving those to them. It’s their race, not mine, and not some other fast guy’s, either.

It’s pretty simple, something we all learned in high school. Supply and demand. Entries are limited and there are a lot qualifiers out there. I expect the price to go up next year, and I wouldn’t be surprised to see the qualifying standards get tougher. In fact, I think they should. It’s pretty obvious that only a minority of the people who qualify and want to get in can actually get in the race.

The purpose of the qualifying times is to reward the best from each age group with a spot in the race, not to reward all people who can run a marathon in an arbitrary time. The qualifying levels need to be re-evaluated, because they’re not limiting the field. If that happens, I might not get in, and I’m fine with that. I’ll just work harder if I want to go back.

For now, I’m glad I’m in for 2011. And I’m bummed for people who qualified but didn’t register in time. But I’m really bummed hearing people try to lay the blame on charity runners and the Boston community. As individual runners, we don’t own the race and we don’t have a right to run in it.

Countless times this year I’ve said that running all these marathons for Operation Jack is the easiest part of the endeavor. And it’s so true. In my “real” life, I work full time, spend time with my family, try to find time to exercise occasionally and sometimes I even sleep. But then there’s this second-full time job, Operation Jack, I have on the plate.

I write four or five blogs a week, including my race report(s). I handle all sorts of email correspondence. I book all of my flights, spending a fair amount of time finding the best possible balance of keeping costs down, minimizing time away and maximizing time in the cities I go to. I research hotels, making sure the fleabags I stay in are at least somewhat safe. I contact media, trying to get coverage. I handle my Twitter account. I try to come up with fundraising ideas. I pre-book remote airport parking. I pack and unpack and pack again. I travel weekly, typically changing time zones, falling asleep too late and having to wake up too early.

And so yeah, those 26.2 miles don’t seem all that difficult when I finally have to run them. But sometimes, believe it or not, things can slip through the cracks. Like a month or so ago, when I found out I missed the boat and registration had sold out for the Memphis St. Jude’s Marathon. Now fortunately, I was able to purchase an entry with a $500 fundraising commitment. It’s such an amazing cause — pediatric cancer treatment and research — and I’m totally content taking a temporary detour from the fundraising I’ve been doing for Train 4 Autism.

But I really need to get my focus back where it needs to be. I need to raise only $37 more as of this morning. I want to get this done today and I know I can. I f you’ve got $1, or if you’ve got $5, click to operationjack.org/stjude and make a difference for less than the cost of a Big Mac meal.

I want to get this done today and I know we can come up with $37. I want to get this done for a couple of reasons. First, I want to fulfill this obligation to this cause. I mean, how could anybody not want to help a cause like this? The second reason I want to fulfill this Memphis obligation is to figure out what I should do about Philadelphia.

Like with Memphis, I missed the boat and attempted to register for Philadelphia after the race had sold out. I contacted the race to see if they held a few entries for sale for after-the-fact exemptions, like for people running 61 marathons in a single year for charity who get overwhelmed with logistics and occasionally drop the ball. I couldn’t get in, though, but there are a few charity options that seem pretty good.

One is Best Buddies, which creates opportunities for one-on-one friendships, integrated employment and leadership development for people with intellectual and developmental disabilities. Another is the Hearts and Smiles Foundation, which provides assistance to low-income families with special-needs children in special area. And there’s also the American Cancer Society. I stayed with Operation Jack supporter Dave Pittman and his family last weekend in Chicago, and he’s very involved with ACS and I’d love to support that organization. Not only for the Pittmans, but for everything the ACS does.

Those three charities have fundraising minimums of $750 to about $1,000. I need to see that I can hit $500 for St. Jude’s before I can even think about these, but I know we’re going to get that done today.

So, I need your help. First, I need $1. And I need your advice. Do I go after these goals for one of these charities? If so, which one? If not, I have Tulsa as my backup plan for November 21. But what should I do? Let me know!

And once you let me know, have a great Wednesday! I’ll see you back here tomorrow with a weekend preview!