Operation Jack

Fighting autism, one mile at a time.

What Should I Do?

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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!

Looking Back While I'm Still Finishing The Race

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As the year winds down, I’m sure I’m going to start writing retrospective blogs. This has been a big year for me, one I’ll never forget, and it will be impossible for me not to reflect on everything. I always say that the purpose of this blog is for you to be able to see this journey from my perspective. So here goes, retrospective blog No. 1!

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 and I’m attempting to run 61 marathons this year to raise money and awareness for a charity called Train 4 Autism. So far, I’m through 48. Sunday, I ran Chicago and you can read why Neil Diamond made me cry in my recap.

Anyways, I dream of leaving a mark on the world. I want to make it a better place. I want to make a difference. I have to think that everybody feels that way, although that takes work and you have to pick and choose the right time and method. There’s no handbook for something like this, but I truly felt like I was being called to attempt to do something.

My son has autism for a reason. As part of what I go through emotionally, I’ve tried to figure out what that reason is. I’m pretty inward with my emotions, but as you can imagine, that’s something that has always been on my mind. Also, as I’ve mentioned quite a bit around here, I broke my neck when I was 16 and was fortunate to escape paralysis. I’m not athletic and I’ve never been able to run, so to have legs that work so well now is a total blessing.

Those two things are always on my mind, and always will be. I have a lot of time to think when I run, and I was constantly thinking of ways to use my running to make something good happen in the autism world. I came up with this Operation Jack idea, but I never really had a plan, and that proved to be my biggest mistake.

I launched my site six months in advance. I started writing blogs and pushing on Twitter and Facebook. Several times, I wanted to quit before I even started because I felt like I couldn’t get through to people. I didn’t know what I expected from anybody, and I didn’t tell anybody what I expected from them, but for whatever reason, I felt like I wasn’t getting what I expected — whatever that imaginary concept was. Twice, I pulled my site down, only to put it back up at my wife’s urging.

The word eventually kind of got out there, and more and more people started finding out about my plans for this year. The schedule was up, with a system that would allow people to join teams and become team leaders. People joined teams, but I had no plan for them. I still don’t.

I had this idea, that I would run 61 marathons this year to raise money and awareness for Train 4 Autism. I never connected the dots to try to figure out how running 61 marathons would accomplish my goals. I jokingly told people that I had no clue what I was doing. My standard line was, “I’m learning every day, and that will be the case until December 31, 2010.” That’s all still true. I have no clue what I’m doing and I’m still learning every day.

I’ve had all sorts of people offer free help and I don’t know how to put them to work. I have shirts for people, but I can’t find the time to do something so simple as tell ask my wife (the designated t-shirt sender) to send them out. Shoot, I have a list of people who made pledges based on a race five weeks ago that I still need to contact.

I’ve tried to cram 28 hours into 24 hour days, and I’ve tried to do that without knowing what I want to do. I take each day as it comes, a blurry series of repeating weeks. Decompress and mentally check out from Operation Jack on Mondays, week is in full swing Tuesday and Wednesday (that includes my full-time job, being a dad, being a husband, exercising to take care of myself, occasionally sleeping, writing blogs, etc.) and by Thursday, it’s time to be making final arrangements for the upcoming weekend. If I’m not traveling on Friday, I’m packing. Every weekend is shot. And then all of a sudden it’s Monday again, time to decompress. What is this, the 42nd or so week of the year? 43rd?

We’re already closing in on halfway through October. I’m getting excited about finishing this, but I know I’m going to be sad when it’s all done. I’ll miss the routine in a way. I’ll go through the weekend of January 1 and 2 without running a race and even though it will be awesome to be home with the family, I’ll miss it.

I’ve thought about how I’m going to look back on this. All in all, Operation Jack will be a net gain. There are new people involved with Train 4 Autism and a lot of people all over the country now know to contact me any time they come across somebody who wants to combine running with fighting autism. Then there’s the money, of course.

But a big part of me will feel like I blew it. I feel like I had a really good opportunity that I just couldn’t take advantage of. If I had organized and planned better, I could have made so much more out of it. I left so much on the table and I know I’ll always shake my head about that. I had a window and didn’t know what to do with it. I never told anybody what to do and unfortunately, this isn’t something I’ll get a second crack at. There’s no way I’ll do this again. Well, I take that back. If some company wanted to donate $1 million to Train 4 Autism, I’d run 62 next year.

From an individual standpoint, I’ll know I set out to do something difficult and I got it done. I downplay the impressiveness of the 61 marathons, because since it’s within the limits of what I can do physically, it’s not a big deal. I have to work hard and fight through a lot of pain, though, and the effort I’ve put forth is what I’m the happiest about. I went all-out. I was never tough as a kid, but I feel like I was pretty tough this year.

I’ll probably hold grudges against some people who have said I shouldn’t have done this. I’m not naming names, but I have a good memory. I didn’t make this into everything I wanted to, but I at least tried. I put myself out there and gave it my all. This was a tough year on my family. We knew that going in, but that was a decision my wife and I made together. Things don’t happen unless people step up and I decided to step up and at least take a chance. This is America, land of opportunity. I tried, and had lots of failures, but at least I tried. I’m not a professional athlete, but I can imagine how much they hate armchair quarterbacks who like to second guess.

I’ve been struggling mentally since last weekend when I had a disaster of an event in St. Louis. After I posted a couple of grumpy blogs last week, Train 4 Autism Founder Ben Fesagaiga sent me a quote from Theodore Roosevelt that I really liked.

“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly; who errs and comes short again and again; because there is not effort without error and shortcomings; but who does actually strive to do the deed; who knows the great enthusiasm, the great devotion, who spends himself in a worthy cause, who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement and who at the worst, if he fails, at least he fails while daring greatly. So that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat.

That mentality hit me at mile 19 of Chicago on Sunday. I tried this year. I tried hard.

At this point, I have 11 weeks and 13 races left to go, only 10 trips and only eight trips without Tiff. I’m past a point where I can really push the fundraising or recruiting. The Runner’s World inclusion is coming, I have some other publicity coming, and I’ll let those things take care of themselves. The best I can really do at this point is to go out and give it my all 13 times. I’m still chasing that sub-3 and even though my legs are dead, I’m still going to sink myself into it for Tucson on December 12. That’s where my PR is from and Tiff will be there. It’s been a long journey towards that individual goal, and it’s been a long year. I want to bring it when she’s there.

The point of all this? I don’t know. This is what’s on my mind so I felt like throwing it out there. Have a great Tuesday, y’all. 76 more days — not that I’m counting!

Race Report: Chicago Marathon

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Before running the Chicago Marathon, I suspected I’d run somewhere between a 3:05 and a 3:25. The course is flat and fast and I felt fairly decent. The night before, I called 3:14 as my best guess. I ended up crossing the finish line 3:29:27 after I went through the start, and for once, I’m not disappointed with the result.

I’ve been struggling mentally a little bit lately, but when I got to the race, I got pretty excited seeing all the charity runners. I’ve obviously become a charity runner this year and I really dig seeing others run marathons for a cause. There must have been 10,000 charity runners and I got pretty excited to run well when I saw them all.

Before the start, my legs felt a little bit tired because I was on my feet too much the day before, but they didn’t feel all that bad. At the start, I still had confidence I could push for a sub-3:15, and I thought I might be able to lock into a good groove and maybe even go for sub-3:10. We got rolling and I felt pretty good. The tall buildings were making the pace on my Garmin go a little wonky, and my heart rate monitor wasn’t working well between miles 6 and 16, so I went by feel for the most part.

Just to sum up the course, it’s a nice tour through lots of Chicago. Tall buildings everywhere. It enjoyed it as a run through a major city, but I found out afterwards that I missed a lot. I was paying attention to what I was running by, but I realized I spent more time looking at the spectators than the sights. There were loud fans covering about 90 percent of the course. But I missed a lot of the different parts of the city and I’m not sure how. Whatever the case, it’s a great course, and it’s definitely fast and flat.

Back to the running, I felt pretty consistent early and not too bad. I didn’t feel like I had any zip in my step, but I felt pretty good. I thought that since I’m two weeks removed from the Tahoe Triple, my legs would start recharging and get closer to where I want them to be. Last week was a difficult 3:28 for me — surely this would be a better day.

I slowed a touch, but nothing that concerned me. I went through the half at about 1:38 flat, which isn’t great, but still about halfway to a Boston qualifier — just one second off. I was faster through the half than I was in St. Charles last week. Plus, the second half of Chicago is easier than the second half of St. Charles. I had no concerns, but all of a sudden at about mile 16, my legs just quit on me. I could tell I was falling off in a hurry. I had been running in the 7:20 to 7:30 range without much problem, but all of a sudden I couldn’t get the pace down below 8:00.

I’ve been having this shutdown effect a lot lately. Mile 16, mile 18, whenever. My legs just quit on me. It’s not a problem with my training or my nutrition. It’s just an issue with fatigue. Imagine that — 48 marathons into the year and I’m getting fatigue! I saw some things along the course that inspired me, mainly religious signs and enthusiastic spectators. But I just couldn’t pick it up. I knew by mile 18 that it was going to be a progressive slowdown to the finish.

At around that point, there was an Elvis impersonator singing “My Way” and I instantly started thinking about this year as a whole. I’ve done this my way, the ways I thought would work best. Regrets, I’ve had a few. But then again, too few to mention. I haven’t always been right, but I’m pretty proud of how hard I’ve tried. About a mile later, there was a DJ blasting “Coming to America” by Neil Diamond. I’m probably the first person to have an emotional reaction to that song. I’ll admit it.

I don’t even really know the words to the song or what it’s about. But it made me think about something I’ve thought about all year. This is America, land of opportunity. Take a chance, take a risk, reap the rewards. Or fail, but at least fail trying. When I heard that song, it made me think about how I took a chance this year and risked failure. The chance I took was that I would willingly run my body into the ground, and the reward I sought was to raise money and awareness for Train 4 Autism.

Note: If you’ve never been here before, my 7-year-old son Jack is severely autistic and I’m trying to run 61 full marathons this year to raise money and awareness for Train 4 Autism. This was marathon No. 48 of the year.

I’ve raised the money and awareness, which was my goal. Have I been perfect? Of course not. But Train 4 Autism is in a better place because of what I’ve done. That’s what I set out to do. I vowed at the beginning of the year that as my part of the deal, I would run myself into the ground to get this done. At that moment, when I heard that song, if finally hit me. I have succeeded in running myself into the ground over the course of this long, tough year. In a weird way that only I can really understand, I’m really happy that I have nothing left.

I wanted to do this for Jack. I want to make the world a better place for kids with autism so he will have an impact on others. It took 47 marathons, two ultramarathons and 19 miles of marathon No. 48 for me to finally come to the conclusion that I have physically torn myself up as my way of fighting autism, the neurological disorder that has wrecked my 7-year-old’s childhood.

I started getting tears in my eyes as I thought about my cute little curly-haired boy, who might not have even known that I was out of town and who certainly doesn’t know that I run or that I’m doing Operation Jack. I set myself up with what I consider to be a pretty daunting task as one way of coping with Jack’s struggles, and I got it done, save the 13 marathons on the schedule the rest of the year.

I kept the tears from really flowing, but I started having breathing problems and was struggling for air. I was having a full-fledged emotional breakdown in the middle of a marathon. I was bound to have a moment like this. Thank you, Neil Diamond.

About a mile later, I saw Operation Jack supporters Adair, Jerry and Asia Renning. Asia is an adult and has autism and is also a distance runner. In fact, she ran her 100th distance race this year! She was excited to see me and I was looking forward to seeing them along the course. I’ve communicated a lot with Adair and Jerry over the past year and it was great to finally see them (even though it was kind of from a distance and I could barely see without my glasses).

Two miles past them, I saw Operation Jack supporter Jen Morgan, who has been super supportive of me since last year. I met her in Tampa and saw her again in Boston. It was great to see her once again. She was out there in her tutu and her Operation Jack shirt and I got a big grin out of that. It’s a pretty special feeling when people back you the way she has. I got a little teary-eyed again when I passed her. I guess I’m just an emotional train wreck over all of this right now.

Anyways, I struggled and struggled, trying to salvage my time, but failing miserably. With a mile to go, I needed to run a little better than 9:00 to stay under 3:30. I tried my best and pulled it off, going 3:29:27. Two months ago, I would have been pretty bummed. Today, I just don’t care. Like I’ve done all year, I went out, gave it my best, didn’t get all I’d hoped for, but finished what I started without any regrets about my effort.

I caught up with Adair, Jerry and Asia after the race and as I was telling them, I’m not proud about the number of marathons I’ve completed. My ability to run and recover is a gift from God. He gives the strength and ability to do everything I do. But I have the choice to use my gifts and work as hard as I can, and I’ve done that. That’s what I’m truly happy about. 48 marathons is trivial in my book.

So there you have it, my take on the Chicago Marathon. 48 marathons and a couple of ultras down. 13 victory laps to go!


I stayed with the family of an Operation Jack follower named Dave Pittman. Super nice people, no question. This is me and Dave before the start of the race.

Me and Dave after the race. I went 3:29:27 and he went 3:29:40, so of course I teased him that I beat him by 13 seconds!

Me with Adair, Jerry and Asia after the race. I am so fortunate that I’ve been able to meet so many good people this year.

Weekend Preview: Chicago Marathon

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Well, it’s Thursday, time for a weekend forecast. I don’t have a ton to talk about, but I am running a marathon (I know, shocker, huh?) so I might as well write a preview. This time, it’s a big race — the Chicago Marathon.

Just in case this is your first time here, I’m a father of three and a marathon runner. My middle child, 7-year-old Jack, is severely autistic. To try to make a difference in his honor, 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 through 47 and a couple of ultras. No. 48 is coming on Sunday.

Chicago Marathon Preview
Well, this preview is for my running at the Chicago Marathon. They have world-class elites who run sub-2:10 there. I have no idea about the competition or the field. I just know what to expect out of myself. Or, should I say, what not to expect out of myself.

Chicago has a reputation for being fast and flat and I doubt I’ll even look at a course profile. It’s Chicago. From what I’ve seen, the wearer is going to be decent. You never know about the wind in Chicago, but I’m expecting good running conditions on a PR-friendly course with tons of spectators, great support, and plenty of fast runners to help keep me moving.

That being said, though. I have zero confidence in myself. I haven’t been running much in training over the past five weeks, opting for the bike at the gym instead. I beat the heck out of myself in September with five marathons at considerable elevation (including three in three days two weeks ago) and two timed ultras.

Last weekend, I realized how much I’ve wrecked myself when all I could muster was a 3:28. I’m also in a mental funk right now and not very motivated.

When I saw this race on the schedule, I originally eyed it as a sub-3 possibility. A month from now, I think maybe I could. But I have two chances at pulling it off on Sunday. Slim and none! I’ll still go my hardest, though. I’ll try to run smart and get back on the right track. I’m going to start off trying to run between 7:10 and 7:15 miles, roughly a 3:10 pace, and adjust from there. If I slip, I slip. If I hang on consistently, I might try to step it up in the second half.

If I was betting, I’d suspect I’m going 3:18 this weekend. But I wouldn’t be surprised to range eight minutes in either direction. I really don’t know where I stand right now.

Weekly Contest
I’m not doing my weekly contest until I meet my goal for the St. Jude’s Marathon in Memphis. Click here to see my page for that event. It’s for a great cause, pediatric cancer treatment and research. If you like what I’m doing, head over there and drop a buck or three or five. I’m running my body into the ground to try to help make things better for kids in need. Sunday is going to be my 48th marathon of the year. It’s a whole lot easier to click that link and donate the cost of a cup of coffee!

That’s All For Today
I’m tired and done writing for now. I’m mentally and physically beat and just need to sign off for the week. Have a great Thursday, Friday and Saturday, y’all. I’ll see you back here Sunday with a race recap.

12 Random K-State Stories

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I had no idea what to write about for today, so I sent out a request for topic suggestions on Twitter, and a good friend of mine from college suggested I keep it K-State themed. As you probably know if you’ve been here, I’m a K-Stater, and right now, it’s Nebraska week. We’re playing them tomorrow night on national TV. So, I’m gonna go with 12 random K-State college stories.

Real quick, just in case you’ve never been here, I’m a father of three and a marathon runner. Click here to see why I’m running 61 marathons this year for Train 4 Autism.

The Good
1. A lot of people ask me how I chose K-State, because I was born and raised in Southern California. Spent my entire pre-Kansas life there. Well, I was a journalism student at my local community college and I narrowed it down to five colleges I wanted to go to based on the quality of the journalism department and the student newspaper.

My list included USC, Missouri (Columbia), North Carolina (Chapel Hill), the University of Kansas and K-State. USC was too expensive for a journalism degree, North Carolina was farther away than I wanted to go and I probably wasn’t going to get into Mizzou, because they have an incredible (and incredibly competitive) journalism department and they had very tough standards for junior-college transfers (I was about a 3.0 student, which is OK, but not good enough to go there).

So, all of a sudden, I was down to KU and KSU. My neighbor in California was from Topeka and I asked her about the in-state reputation of the two schools. She told me the people that are better than KSU go to KU. And the people who don’t care about the people who are better than them go to KSU. I figured KSU was my place, so I applied, got accepted, and flew out to see the campus and register without ever looking at KU. And in case you couldn’t tell, I’m thrilled with the decision I made. I loved it there.

2. Since we’re talking K-State today, it was a lot of fun going to a college that was (at the time) a major football factory. The program was top 10 for most of the time I was there and even No. 1 in the nation during a chunk of my last semester. The biggest win while I was there was against Nebraska in 1998. We hadn’t beaten Nebraska in 30 years until that night. It was fun being in the press box for the AP for that one. With the team doing so well, there were about 300 media credentials issued weekly. For that game, the national media converged and there were more than 600 members of the media there. ESPN did their College Gameday broadcast there. While I was writing in the press box after the game, I was talking with folks from the New York Times, Sports Illustrated, The Sporting News, the Los Angeles Times, the Boston Globe … the list went on and on. It was certainly a memorable experience.

3. My buddy who told me to write this column told me to include the play that one of my stories got that week. I was writing for the AP, and since the game was the national game of the week, my stories would go out on the wire and get picked up by everybody. There was one I wrote about our quarterback, Michael Bishop, that spent 24 hours as the lead story on every major sports website — espn.com, cnnsi.com, thesportingnews.com, usatoday.com. It was pretty cool, still being in my final months as a student, to see something like that.

The college football reporter from the L.A. Times did a huge story on K-State football that took up half of the front page back home in the paper, and he talked to me and my buddy and quoted us in the story. They took a pull quote (when they make it bigger so you see the quote before you read the story) from me and it was above the fold on the front page of the sports section of the Times. I had a TON of people back home calling me up about that.

4. My last semester, I had a sweet 800-square foot studio apartment. It was in a great part of town, Aggieville, and it had thick green shag carpeting that killed a bag every time I vacuumed. There were flowers on the wallpaper, wood paneling from the ’70s, it came fully furnished (including an olive green refrigerator), it had off-street parking, was a three-minute walk to campus and two-minute walk to the bars, there was bright red carpeting in the bathroom, sweet formica countertops and my kitchen was about eight feet away from the country bar next door, so I could always hear the music. The price tag? $350/month. That’s living large, my friends. It was awesome.

5. I just did my thing at the time, but I got to talk to a bunch of people who’d end up having pretty good NFL careers. I had a 15-minute phone interview with Donovan McNabb when he was a junior at Syracuse. I spent 5 or 10 minutes doing a 1-on-1 with Drew Brees in San Antonio when he was a sophomore at Purdue. Most of the guys who were in college back in 1998 are out of the league now, but for several years, I couldn’t turn on a game without seeing multiple players I had interviewed.

The Bad
6. I used to drink a lot in college. One day, we had our daily newspaper budget meeting at a bar. It was St. Patrick’s Day and half-yards were $1. I spent $4 and then we went back to campus. Good thing I wasn’t driving. Somebody brought in a tray of Jell-o and for whatever reason, I thought it would be a good idea to stick a square on the ceiling in the newsroom. It stuck! We put a table beneath it for when it fell, but it didn’t fall that night! Nor did it fall the next week! Nor has it fallen over the past 12 1/2 years! The water evaporated and it basically turned to a rock. It’s still there, and there are all sorts of urban legends about the Jell-o now, but I’m the one who put it there. Yes, that’s my legacy at Kansas State University.


This picture was taken in 2009, I believe. They re-did the ceiling, but preserved that tile.

7. 776-5577, call us now, Pizza Shuttle. I still remember the number, 15+ years after I first arrived on campus. Is it bad if you turn a pizza upside down in the box for 10 minutes to let all the grease soak out? Not if that pizza only costs $3.50! Best 2 a.m. food ever.

8. We had a football player named Frank Murphy who was a highly-touted recruit with blazing speed, but he had to miss the first four games of the season for accepting improper benefits (a deal on a $3,000 used car) from a booster. He was not made available to the media before his first game of the season, at Colorado, so I asked Michael Bishop, our quarterback, about how excited Murphy was. Bishop told me that he was talking to Murphy, who said he wanted to score a touchdown on his first play. Bishop asked him, “What if we’re only on the 20?” Murphy told him, “Then I want to go 80!”

Well, I put that in my story, and I didn’t take it out of context at all. But my story ran on the wire and Woody Paige, who’s a big-time columnist in Denver, wrote a column about how Murphy bragged he was going to go 80 yards against CU’s defense the first time he touched the ball. That went over well.

It turned into a war of words, Murphy didn’t play much in the game, and afterwards, at the press conference, KSU coach Bill Snyder dragged Murphy into the press conference to apologize to CU coach Rick Neuheisel. It was extremely awkward, because Neuheisel didn’t seem to think it was any big deal. But then when Neuheisel and Murphy left, Snyder went off, yelling at all of us media gathered there. The press conference was broadcast live. I was about three feet from him when he was yelling and he was looking right at me about half the time. I really, really, really didn’t want to be there at that point.

The Ugly
9. My fraternity went on probation for hazing at one point when I was there. One of the things that got us in trouble was an active cracking a whip and threatening a pledge in the middle of a large lecture class with about 300 people in it. Seemed bad at the time, but it sure is a fun story to tell. I mean, who can say that their fraternity went on probation for that? Oh yeah, I can.

10. Two times, I played drunk football in college. The only problem is, one time was in the hallway of a hotel, and I outweighed my opponent (who was sober) by more than 100 pounds He wasn’t a willing participant and there wasn’t a ball. The second time was in the hallways of Kedzie Hall, the journalism building, and my two opponents each weighed about 80 pounds less than me. And again, they were sober, there was no ball, and they didn’t want to play.

11. Have you ever been on a teleconference for a men’s basketball postseason announcement, and thought your line was muted, and then made a phone call from your cell to talk to a friend and used too much profanity to tell her about how bad the men’s basketball team was going to get beat in its postseason game, only to find out your line wasn’t really muted? Yeah, I have.

12. I spent 6 1/2 years getting a mass communications degree. I had fun, went on academic probation, and did a million memorable things to have the “college experience” everybody should have. When push came to shove, though, I got it done and was set to graduate in December 1998. A funny thing happened, though. Somehow, I was failing a one-hour freshman geology lab class I was taking that semester. I found that out about three or four days before graduation and didn’t know what to do. Apparently, I’d missed one too many labs. So, I begged the instructor, a GTA, to let me make up the work, and she was cool with that. I got to go out by a lake in the freezing December weather and dig around for fossils. I must have spent an hour or two out there. It was miserable. But it was better than explaining to my dad how after all the money he spent, and 6 1/2 years chasing a journalism degree, I couldn’t graduate because of a one-hour freshman geology lab.

So that’s it. My 12 random things about K-State, since it’s Nebraska week. We get them tomorrow night. They’ll probably beat us, but even if they do, I’m still proud of where I went to school and I always will be!