Three Things Thursday … the easiest blog to write. I don’t even have to write it the night before. I just need to be able to count to three while I eat my oatmeal. I can do this. Here we go.

1. I’m Mr. Mom This Weekend

Tiff is going to California for a milestone birthday for one of her best friends. So for 2 1/2 days, it’s just me and the kids. I’ve taken care of them before, but not for this long without any help. Normally, there would be grandparents to help out and stuff like that, but we’re in Colorado now and the family is in California.

So, if you follow me on Twitter or if you’re friends with me on Facebook and you notice inactivity and wonder if I’m dead … I probably am.

2. We’re Still Fighting To Get Jack In School

We have a situation going on right now where we’re really struggling to get Jack in school. He’s home all day with Tiff while we get this sorted out, but at this point, we don’t have a school to put him in that’s safe and he’s sitting at home regressing. His self-injurious behaviors are increasing. And we have nowhere to take him. They’re both going stir-crazy. It’s really making them both pretty miserable and that has a trickle-down effect on the rest of us. We’re not on the outs or anything like that, but it’s really wrecking us from the inside out. This autism thing has an impact waaaaaaay beyond the kid that gets the life sentence. One of these days I might spill all the details about what’s going on with the school. But right now isn’t that day. I don’t know who’s reading this. Ya know?

3. I’m A Jerk

On Tuesday I was arguing with Tiff about all of this school stuff. It’s been tough on us and I told her some pretty harsh things about her and Jack. I didn’t mean what I said, but I did say some pretty nasty things out of frustration. And she told me, although not seriously, that I should tell everybody on my blog what a jerk I was and that I’m not as great as some people think I am. Well now you know. I’m not Superman. I’m a hothead when I get mad.

Anyways, I’m throwing in a song video. I like this one and it’s growing on me.

OK, that’s all. Who dies first, me or the kids? What do you think should be the minimum qualifications to work with kids with autism in a public school? Do you hate me now that you know I’m a jerk? I hope not! Have a good weekend![subscribe2]

This past weekend, I went from Colorado down to California for the Long Beach Marathon. It’s a huge event for Train 4 Autism, which I’m proud to be a part of. And while I have your attention, if you don’t know what Operation Jack is, CLICK HERE! Please!

Anyways, I flew out Friday after work, worked the expo all day Saturday recruiting for Train 4 Autism and the Operation Jack Marathon. It was amazing to see T4A’s growth and presence. It’s just awesome to be on a team that’s winning, especially when the prize is a better life for kids with autism. We had 266 people out there in T4A blue on Sunday. I have my own individual role, and I actually don’t really even know what that is, but I know I’ve worked really hard over the past 3+ years to do what I can and it’s awesome to see things growing.

We all have a dream that we’re going to grow and help people and help people help people (kind of confusing to write it that way, but that’s accurate) and we’re getting there. The dream is starting to come true. So the whole experience was pretty awesome. I love feeling like my running and my hobby has some purpose.

I ran the Long Beach Marathon on Sunday, lifetime marathon #103. I’m going to be real brief. I wanted to run somewhere around a 3:05, maybe a bit quicker. I felt sluggish all week — I still haven’t recovered from the marathon I ran on September 1. I went out, pushed it, knew I didn’t have it and still tried to force it. I knew it was a stupid idea, but I did it anyways, and as I suspected, I fell apart by mile 14. The 3:05 I wanted probably could have been a 3:12, but it ended up being a 3:26. It was a long, miserable day in the sun. And then life went on.

Ok, so the headline for this is worst post-run run ever, and I’m going to get to that in just a second. But first, pictures make everything more interesting. And they’re easier to read. So here’s one from last night. I was growing a beard for the heck of it, but I was messing around last night when I was shaving.

All right, the worst post-run run ever. I took a bus out to the airport in Denver on Friday and I was taking it back. I was at dinner in California on Sunday night and for whatever reason, I wanted to check the time of the bus back to where I was going. They go about every hour and I was hoping I wouldn’t have to wait for an hour. When I saw the schedule, I saw that the last bus was at 11:25. I went to see what time my flight landed, because I had no idea, and it was 11:10.

If you’ve ever been to the airport in Denver, it’s a long way from the gates to ground transportation. You have to go down those electric sidewalks (whatever they’re called, then down two escalators, then you have to take a tram in. I would have 15 minutes and at that point, about 5 hours to dwell on it. The first bus out in the morning is at 6:25 a.m. and I parked at Park-N-Ride about 35 miles from the airport. Easily a $100 cab fare. I don’t have $100 to burn like that, so I would have just slept in the terminal and taken the bus out. And hated Monday. No way in the world would I even think about asking Tiff to load the three kids into the car at 11:30 and drive down to the airport. I had to make this bus!

When I got to the airport in Orange County, I checked with the Frontier folks at the gate about buying up to row closer to the front so I could get off the plane quicker — I knew every minute would matter. But the flight was completely full. Row 20. Then I heard announcements about checking carry-ons because there wasn’t going to be enough room. If I couldn’t bring my bag on, there was no way I would get to the bus on time.

While they were going through the boarding, they announced that once they hit 40 more bags, they were going to have to force everything else to be checked. I looked around and knew it was going to be close. About five people before I got on, they made the announcement that they were full and everything had to be checked. This was a death sentence as far as making that bus was concerned, so I went and begged and explained my situation and they allowed me to try to find space on the plane.

I did, so that was one crisis averted. I sat in my seat hoping we’d leave on time because every minute on the flip side would make a difference. We pushed back pretty quick and were up in the air without much delay. The pilot even told us we might be on the ground a few minutes early! Yes!

And then I sat there on the flight in anxiety for two hours. Oh, and I was in pain, too. My right leg was killing me, primarily from the marathon that day but also from some lingering pain I have that makes it difficult to sit still for more than 20 minutes or so. Unfortunately, I was on the window seat on the left, so I just had to deal with it.

We landed at about 11 p.m., which gave me a little tiny bit of hope that we’d make it. I was estimating 10-15 minutes to where I needed to get from the time I got off the plane and if we could be at the gate in 5 minutes, I thought 20 minutes would make me safe.

We pulled in and I saw gate A29. That’s a big plus, because there’s also a B and C terminal and by being in the A terminal, there was a much shorter tram ride to get to where I was needing to get. But we just sat there waiting for them to open the door. After about two minutes of waiting, the power went off inside the plane. I was starting to think my chances were slipping away.

It seemed like an eternity, but it was probably about 4 or 5 minutes that everybody stood there waiting for them to let us out. They opened the door at 11:09 and I knew it was going to be a tight race to the finish. My achy legs were going to have to run through the terminal. I was getting really antsy, knowing every second would count. People who were taking their good, sweet time pulling down their luggage from the overhead were annoying me, although I knew the problem was me, not them.

Finally, at 11:14 I was off the plane and I started running through the terminal. That was the worst post-run run EVER. It hurt and I know I looked ridiculous. But I needed to catch that bus. I was running down the left side of those stand-on-the-right, walk-on-the-left moving sidewalks (note: DON’T STAND ON THE LEFT NEXT TO SOMEBODY STANDING ON THE RIGHT! NOT COOL!). I ran down escalators to get to the tram and saw the doors close to one. I just missed it.

I got this sinking feeling I wasn’t going to catch the bus. It was 11:18 and the next tram didn’t come until 11:21. Four minutes left. I knew I was going to need the bus to be about a minute or two late getting out. I had to stand in a sea of people waiting to get up an escalator. Those 30 seconds seemed like 30 hours.

I continued running on my beat-up legs when I got to the top, got out to where the bus was and there was no bus. But there were people waiting! Ahhh, I made it and the bus was late! I was so relieved! Just to make sure, I asked to confirm that they were waiting for the AB heading towards Boulder.

No, that just left a couple of minutes ago.

I missed it. I missed my bus. Next bus out in seven hours. Work two hours after that. Awesome. I stood there for a couple of minutes because, well, I wasn’t in any hurry to go anywhere at that point. I had all night in front of me in an airport terminal.

Then a young woman, maybe 22 or so, ran up looking for the bus. She was pretty upset to find out it was gone. She was a student at CU-Boulder. Then another guy came by and found out he missed it, too. He was pretty laid back, though. He was also a student. Boulder is a long ways from the airport. Probably close to an hour, definitely at least 45 minutes. But he just called his girlfriend up and she was on the way. He offered rides to me and the other woman.

I don’t think I’ve ever taken a ride on a moment’s notice from a complete random stranger, but I didn’t really care. We waited in the terminal for a while and she finally got there. We loaded up and hit the road. They dropped me off in my town, which was on the way. There’s a bus stop on the highway so they didn’t event need to go out of the way. They just stopped, let me out, I thanked them for the ride and gave them some gas money and walked to my car. At about 1:15 a.m., 18 hours after I woke up before running a miserable marathon in the sun in California, I walked into my home in Broomfield, Colo.

Long day. Memorable day. Long day. Long day. And then a short night. Five hours later, the kids were up and it was time to get ready for work.

So there you have it. Definitely the worst post-run run ever.

Have you ever been stranded overnight? Have you ever had to run with a suitcase? Should I have kept the facial hair?

Have a great Tuesday!

Ahhh, my first blog of the week. It’s been one of those weeks, I guess. Gonna go with Three Things Thursday, and in my first item, I’ll explain why I haven’t blogged much this week.

If you’ve never been to this site, or don’t know what Operation Jack is, please click here!

OK, here we go, time to count to 3.

1. We’re having a ridiculous fight getting Jack into school right now. It’s totally consumed every waking second of the past 10 or so of our days. Jack, in case you don’t know, is our 9-year-old son who is severely autistic. Well, we’re having major problems getting him out of a school that’s unsafe for him and we’re floored by the requirements for he people who will be teaching him. I saw an ad yesterday for a position they’re filling for the type of person who would be working with him and the requirements are high school diploma and speaks English.

It’s like they cast off my son as worthless. Well, I don’t. I know his potential. And I’ll fight to death for him. That’s probably why I feel like I’m dying right now. I’m not going to get too political, but I will say that right about now, I’d be a big proponent of a voucher system and then maybe somebody would treat him with some dignity. That’s probably more than I should say right now since this is unsettled and I have no clue who reads my blog. But I don’t care.

2. I’m running the Long Beach Marathon on Sunday. I made a last-minute decision to go out to California for the race. The main reason is to try to help recruit for the Operation Jack Marathon and Train 4 Autism at the Train 4 Autism booth at the expo. So if you’re running the race and going to the expo on Saturday, stop by and say hi. Anyways, I’m gonna run the race on Sunday since I’ll be there anyways. Gonna try to BQ and get my 2014 Boston qualifier out of the way. It’s a realistic goal so I’ll try to run the best race I can. Whatever the case, it’s the last marathon I’m running hard until next April, so it will be nice to break from training and just enjoy my running again.

3. I had two triumphant running moments last night. First, I burned out another treadmill at the gym on a progressive run. That’s always a fun win. Then, I went and played softball and tagged and scored on a sacrifice fly to second. This wasn’t the second baseman running and diving backwards and me taking advantage of them being on the ground. This was the second baseman backpedaling just a little bit and me deciding I was going to tag and see what kind of wheels I had. I had enough to score. Felt kind of fun to do something ridiculous. I’ll be signing autographs at the Train 4 Autism booth on Saturday.

OK, that’s it. Do you play softball? Have you ever had problems with a school district? Will I see you at Long Beach? Have a great weekend![subscribe2]

I got up at 4:45 a.m. to run this morning. I’ve run 102 marathons in the past 6 1/2 years, and I’ve run them fairly well — I have 27 Boston qualifiers and was recently accepted to run in my 6th consecutive Boston Marathon. But there’s one thing I don’t want to be called: a runner.

As weird as that sounds, I don’t view myself as a runner. The reason for that is pretty simple. I don’t want that to define me. It’s just something I do. I’m not a runner. I’m a guy who likes to run. I like to eat oatmeal, but I’m not an oatmealer. I was thinking about this (on my run) yesterday morning, because I always wonder what I should blog about. And running just doesn’t feel that important to me.

My favorite thing about running is that it gives me my quiet time that I need in the morning and it gives me a way to push myself and stay in shape. But it’s my hobby. It’s not who I am, and the day I let it define me is the day I’ve neglected what really matters.

I’m a father of three. I’m a husband. I’m pretty flawed at both, but that’s to be expected — I’m human, so I’m definitely imperfect. I have some good days and some bad days. I pray every day for the strength and wisdom to do a better job at both and I certainly have room for improvement. But that’s what I am.

I also think I’m an autism fighter — not by my choosing, but it’s a role I’ve been thrust into. My middle child, 9-year-old Jack, is severely autistic. If you’ve ever ben to this site, you’re well aware of that. If not, click here and see what I do and what I’ve done and what Operation Jack is.

I feel like I don’t really know much about autism — my wife Tiffany is the expert in our household — but I still have an obligation to talk about it and fight it. Our lives start as blank canvases and we all follow different paths. We’re all unique and we all have different purposes. It definitely feels like these are mine.

I have three kids with different needs and personalities and nothing I ever do will be more important than raising them. I’m married to my best friend and the quality of her stay here in this world will be hugely impacted by what kind of husband I am.

And then there’s fighting autism, which starts with Jack. I know it’s my responsibility to go to the ends of the earth for him. We lose a lot of sleep over the battles we go through for him and there’s no end in sight. On top of that, I find myself in the middle of the autism community. People need advice, charities need help. I make a habit out of biting off more than I can chew, but I always try my best.

When it comes to any of this vs. running, I always try to make sure running loses. If Jack wakes up early, I skip my morning run and stay with him because he needs to be tended to and I’d rather let Tiffany sleep. When Tiffany wants to get out of the house in the morning to go to the gym and pound out her frustrations, I sacrifice my time slot for her. Life has to come first.

So father, husband, autism fighter. That’s what I am. That’s what I hope I always will be. I’m not a runner. If this ever changes, I’m doing something wrong.[subscribe2]