Hey, Look! A Real-Life Cardboard Hero!

Well, I'm back to talk about my weekend and the details of the race I hoped to run followed by the more blog-related fodder of a chance encounter with a real life baseball hero of mine - back when baseball players were heroes to me.

I know you've been hitting refresh on your browser for the past 24 hours.

Let's recap Part 1.

Allow me, you rambled on and on and on - in a highly annoying voice, I'm sure - about your poor little heel and a bunch of loonies planning to run a bunch of miles without being chased. You pretended you had something about the hobby to reveal and then you went to bed without sharing. I'm guessing at least 27 followers and counting have dropped you in the past five hours.

OK, pardon the extended lead up to the blog relevant fodder but, well, there are some other things I wanted to get down on record. So, I'll continue just a bit more, if you'll indulge me.

Despite the pain in my heel, we decided to go ahead with our weekend plans. We had reservations at a nice hotel at the starting line and we planned some things with our daughter for Sunday. It was intended all along to be a little getaway.

But my wife knows me and knew I'd be moping around if I couldn't run the race or had to drop out with the heel issue.

She bought some heel padding for me and I decided to try running with it. It felt good but I was still convince the constant pounding of a half marathon would do me in.

Restless, I woke up at 4 a.m. and waited. From our hotel room, we had a straight show view of the seven to 10 city blocks where runners would be lining up. For the next 2.5 hours I peaked out every so often. The numbers went from zero to many, many thousands over that time.

My wife wished me the best and I headed downstairs to make my way to my designated corral. Me and 35,000 jammed together and I said a few words for my heel.

Do you see me? I'm right there

I told my wife there was a 90% chance I'd be back very soon. I figured I'd have severe pain 1/2 mile in and call it quits so as not to risk a bigger problem. It would be OK. Our hotel was immediately to the right in this picture, just a few feet from the shot here, so perhaps I wouldn't have far to hobble.

But, amazingly, a few steps into the run, I was OK. I still felt good at 1/2 mile and soon - slowly per my usual - began ticking off the miles. Just a dull pain but I was soon more concerned with the 90% humidity and blazing sun. The pain in my heel actually seemed to go away as the race went on. I didn't get cocky about it as I figured the next step easily could be my last.

When I hit the Indianapolis Motor Speedway at mile 6.5, I began to - if you will - tire. Runners get to lap the full track during this race. It was cool the first year. The heat from the sun on the track was brutal this year, and sapping my energy. Runners everywhere were already taking extended walking breaks.

I began seeing regular emergency vehicles and passed a half dozen (former) runners on stretchers or being attended to by medical personnel. I kept going. Conscious of the fact that I was doing this to stay healthy and not to end up on a stretcher, I slowed my pace and took water and/or gatorade at every station.

As I exited the 2.5 mile oval and hit the streets again, I realized my wife very well may have saved the day with the padding she purchased. But I tried not to think about that lest I jinx myself. I still had nearly five miles to go and so I focused on my own thoughts and the bands playing throughout the course.

At mile 11, I slowed to grab a water and my legs felt like noodles. I pounded two cups, walked through the water station and, eventually, kept going.

And, well, long story short ...

Uh, too late pal!

I made it!

My wife and daughter were there at the finish. My wife had received automated text messages as I crossed certain checkpoints and was equally stunned and excited that I could run on the heel. We all celebrated together at the post-race party (by resting in the grass, mostly). My daughter gave me a ribbon to pin on that she had my wife get for me.

Then, we headed back to the room and treated ourselves with room service to avoid the masses. I enjoyed a delicious big post-race cheat meal of a bacon cheeseburger and fries.

Afterwards, tired and full, I was ready for a rare mid-day nap and soon fell asleep. The ladies snuck out to go shopping. When they returned, I took my daughter swimming - the highlight of her weekend.

Finally, that night, we decided to go to the Indianapolis Indians vs. Louisville Bats AAA game. Victory Field is right across the street from our hotel. It took 90 seconds to walk from the hotel doors to the front gate - and that included waiting for the light to change and walking with a four-year-old.

Baseball, you say? Do I finally sense a blog-relevant point to this two-part blog entry?

Oh, yes. Indeed.

Third inning, the ladies get up to walk the concourse. Sixty seconds later my wife phones. "You might want to get up here. Right behind our section there's a guy wearing a Cincinnati Reds shirt signing autographs at a table. He might be somebody." I bounded out of my seat. Did I ever mention I'm a lifelong Reds fan?

Who could this be? But wait! I have nothing for this person to sign. ARGH! I have no cards! We had decided on a whim to go to the game because the runners' packet had a buy-one get-one free coupon?

I hit the concourse and see about six people in line. This signing was winding down. I get a closer look to see, sitting at the table - Big Red Machine alum ...

George Foster.

George "Friggin'" Foster, easily one of my favorite players ever, I tell my wife and daughter.

I fear he is about to leave so I buy a ball at a stand next to the table stamped with the Indianapolis Indians logo and we're quickly in front of him. Two minutes had passed from the time my wife called me at the seats.

My daughter hands him the ball.

He smiles, says hello and signs. And we move on.

I've mentioned before that I'm actually not an autograph kind of guy. I feel rather goofy as a grown man asking another grown man for his signature. That's just me. I'm particularly averse to the idea of paying for this. It's such a personal and impersonal experience all at once. It's a bit awkward.

But this was a no-brainer. Here was one of my heroes as a kid. Foster - known for the menacing stare, the black bat, the long sideburns - hit 52 home runs for the Big Red Machine in 1977, when I was nine. This was a very, very big deal. Leaders of the era routinely hit, I believe, in the 30s.

I first posted a picture of me holding this ball, immediately post autograph. I removed it. You're welcome.

Foster was a slugger I once thought would go down in history as the greatest home run hitter ever. To me, he is one of the greatest.

His baseball cards are legendary, to me. Next on my list will be to create my official Foster want list.

While I would have loved to have one of these signed, I now kind of like the fact he signed an Indianapolis Indians' ball. It's so random - but also preserves the memory of the evening and the weekend. That said, if anyone has an on-card Foster autograph for trade, please let me know.

So that was my big weekend - a personal milestone reached for the second time, great family time and a chance encounter with a cardboard hero come to life.

A May Day: On The Run

With a new week off and running, I thought I'd recap my eventful weekend. I certainly didn't expect any blog fodder to come from it, but something sure came out of left field.

Read on!

But first, Saturday was scheduled to be my second Indianapolis Half Marathon. I ran my first last year, and I eventually wrote about the experience. I run for weight maintenance, for general health (with a little one at 43 - that's on my mind a lot) and because I tend to love being alone with my thoughts.

There's no better place for that than on a run.

A half marathon is 13.1 miles. There was a time that I couldn't run .1 miles without getting winded. For a healthy stretch of my life, I hated running with a deep passion.

I was the kid who always finished last running the two laps around the gym in school. 

Crossing the finish line last year was extremely gratifying. But what about this year?

Training had been going well until the Sunday prior, when I hurt my heel during my final long-ish training run. I couldn't step on it without a fair amount of pain on Monday and Tuesday and at that point figured the gig was up. I self-diagnosed via Internet and guessed stress fracture - and reluctantly went to the doc.

She wasn't sure and we agreed to hold off on an X-Ray. She thought it could be heel spurs or some such. She prescribed some high dosage pain medicine. Reluctant again, I figured I'd do it and maybe it would get me through the race.

The doc, who also was set to run the same 13.1 miles, said:

"I think you could try running and if you experience excruciating pain then you should stop."

Ya think, I thought? Sound advice when experiencing excruciating pain in general, not just while running, I thought.

I took three of the pills over the next day and developed a constant headache and severe heartburn - and stopped the pills. Wednesday night I tried to run half a block - and the pain was still there.

I had trained for this. I was ready. To get hurt six days before the big day was rough.

At this point in the story, you're asking yourself. Should I keep reading. Is there really a baseball hook? Maybe I should move to the next blog. Why am I following this guy?

All valid questions.

Stay tuned for Part 2 to be published tomorrow at this time.

Wait a second. You're leaving!? What about the race? And what blog fodder came out of left field that you opened this drivel with? What kind of mind games are you playing here? And, can I have the 87 pain pills you've elected not to take?

Patience, gentlemen (and two ladies). The big reveal shall come.

I'm de-following you. You should know this.

For now, how about enjoying these cards I picked up at a AAA game this weekend at Victory Field in Indianapolis - where we watched the Indianapolis Indians (Pirates) blank the Louisville Bats (Reds) 4-0. Coincidentally, it was at this game where the cool thing out of left field happened to me.

This guy is up with the big club this year and doing all right.

They didn't have this year's Indianapolis team set so I snagged the 2011 set. Couldn't leave a baseball game without some cards. Enjoy, and see you tomorrow.

A few more of those I have heard of...including the head coach and former Red.

Hit The Road, Potch

Does anyone know of any decent baseball card shops or regular card shows in Louisville, Nashville, Birmingham, Hattiesburg, MS or, finally, New Orleans?

For that matter, does anyone know of any great flea markets/antique malls along this route known to have cards in stock? I realize I won't be hitting gem mint tobacco-era cards at these - but it might be fun to stop by one. Last year I popped into an antique mall in Georgia and was able to fill up a 500-count box with some cards that were new to me - albeit lots of '90s stuff - for $4.

Yep, I'm taking the Potch Wheeler show on the road very soon for a work trip and an extra day of R&R in the Big Easy. I'm a little burnt out on flying at the moment. Sadly, my family can't make this trip so who knows what kind of chaos will ensue down there.

Only kidding. We got engaged there eight years ago this month - down by the Mississippi River near the French Quarter. I'll probably just go down there to the spot and re-enact the awkwardness.


In other blog news, I'm convinced nobody cares about the Padres. Worst. Voting turnout. Ever. (so far...)

Site Blackout and The Time My Two Loves Collided: An Exercise In Overly Long and Somewhat Misleading Headline Writing

So, this Pippen Soap Bill sure is a load of poop, amiright? On the plus side, if somehow my blog gets a shut down, it would have zero impact on all of you and I'd get to read an extra book here and there with my extra time.

Speaking of which, wow, I love to read. Anyone ever read "A Prayer for Owen Meany"? You must. Great stuff. An all-time fave. Let me know if you've read it.

Speaking of which (part two), I met John Irving once. We were all set to go to a White Sox game after work when my wife (fiancee at the time) heard he was giving a speech at the Harold Washington Library in Chicago's Loop. We went to a lot of games so we skipped it and headed to the library. It was even my birthday. Bought his latest at the time "Until I Found You" and had him sign it. Cool guy.

I don't know what this is but it has "John Irving" and "baseball" in it so there ya go. Wrong John Irving? Whatevs.

Oh yeah, baseball. How about we talk about The Fun-Time Baseball Hall? Just a couple of days left to vote in the poll up top for the Detroit Tigers and then we'll turn our attention to the California/Anaheim/Los Angeles Angeles.

I wonder if Nolan Ryan will make the nomination cut, hmmm.

Spoiler: He will.

Life Happens

Just a quick update here for my blogger friends. If all goes well, we'll close on our new house on Friday and be moving Monday and Tuesday - and of course be preoccupied settling in (including getting a last-minute tree up for our daughter's sake) - and then immediately doing some light traveling around the holidays to visit family.

In other words, in another day or perhaps two I'll be closing up my card boxes to prep for the move. I wanted to apologize to anyone I'm talking trade with at the moment because if we don't wrap up those deals very soon, then they'll probably have to wait awhile.

It's been a scattered existence for awhile since we sold our home in June and have been in ohsocramped temporary quarters - and it's been more crazy as of late - so if anyone happens to be waiting on something from me, please let me know. I think I have all my bases (so to speak) covered but I just want to be sure.

In fact, even if we've just been talking trade, send me a reminder. I know I have a couple of pending deals and I do believe I have them properly logged, but it wouldn't hurt at this point to remind me just in case.

Meanwhile, my P.O. Box will be open and checked for another four months so if anyone is in the process of sending me cards, you're good. I'll get word out about the new address once we're officially in the place.

Enjoy the holidays.

When I Was 7 + 3, It Was A Very Good Year

When I get around to posting about my 100 favorite cards of all time - and make no mistake, it's. going. to. happen. - inevitably several cards from the first Topps set I collected will make the list.

1978 Topps takes me back to my childhood like no other set. This was the first set I actively collected. My parents got me started by bringing me home a stack of wax packs at the time.

One of the cards that will always mean the most to me is this very card - the '78 Johnny Bench. I treated this with such kid gloves even then, that it's still in fairly good shape. Johnny Bench wasn't my favorite member of the Big Red Machine at that time, it was Mr. Rose (although no longer), but I still thought a lot of Bench - whom I once met down by the dugout at Riverfront Stadium.

Years ago, as a kid, many of my '78s were destroyed when our basement flooded. When I returned to collecting earlier this year, I discovered I no longer had many cards from the set. One of my key collecting goals is to build it back up and eventually complete it.

Jeff - my new trading friend and proprietor of Cardboard Catastrophes - gave me a big assist in a trade we just completed. He just posted about it here. Jeff sent me a nice-sized stack of '78s as he ended up with quite a few dupes from a lot he had once purchased. He also shipped over some 2011 Series 2 and much-coveted Kimball Champions.

Desperate to keep organized in our current living arrangement, I filed everything away right away, so that's it for the images, but I truly greatly appreciate the help.

My Kimballs for the Update Series are coming along pretty nicely, with more promised to be on the way, but my '78s - well - it likely will be a few years before I complete this set but complete it I shall.

My Take On The CBA

Taking the cue from Mr. Play At The Plate, here are my thoughts on the CBA:

I understand why it folded, what with the NBA Developmental League in place, still with its long history - starting in 1946 - it's a shame.

Oh, wait, he's talking about baseball.

OK, here are some of the highlights of the new CBA:

1. Houston Astros move from the National League Central to the American League West in 2013. I know a lot of baseball fans are up in arms over this but it doesn't much matter to me. On one hand, I hate to see Houston's tradition in the NL shot; on the other hand, at least it should create a great in-state rivalry (which no doubt will be a lopsided affair for several seasons at least, but still...). I don't think it's a big deal to move the NL out of Texas given the fact interleague play will be prevalent now.

On a highly personal level, I see the point of the desire some had to move Milwaukee back to the AL and I wouldn't have minded that given four of my favorite six teams are in the NL Central. But, really, moving Milwaukee to the AL West makes no geographic sense.

2. Two more Wild Card teams will be added to the playoff mix as early as next season. The Wild Card teams in each league would most likely face each other in a one-game playoff to advance to the Division Series. MLB now has until March 1 to determine whether the playoffs will be expanded for the coming season. I love this plan. It restores value to actually winning the division - including by putting wild card teams at an added disadvantage of having their rotations screwed up. 

3. Blood testing for HGH with a 50-game suspension for a first failed test, 100 games for a second and lifetime ban with the right to seek reinstatement for the third. Highly in favor.

4. A raise in the minimum salary from $414,000 this year to $480,000 in 2012, and ultimately to more than $500,000. Meh.

5. A luxury tax on teams that spend above an aggregate figure for players signed through the annual First-Year Player Draft and the near elimination of Draft-pick compensation for the signing of free agents. I have zero cents to add here as well. Honestly, for better or worse, I purposefully try to ignore this stuff for the most part and focus on the game.

6. Subject to MLB discussions with the umpires' union, the expansion of instant replay to include fair and foul calls on balls hit down the line in addition to others trapped by fielders. Replay has been used only to review home runs -- fair or foul, in or out of the park. I'm not too concerned about this slowing down the game but I realize many won't like it. I just think it's important to get some of those tough calls right and worth the time.

7. Restrictions for the first time on the use of smokeless tobacco on the field or in dugouts. Players are still allowed to chew, but while they're in an area where they can be picked up by a television camera, the protocol now is for them not to have pouches or tins of tobacco visible in their uniform back pockets. Part of me wants to say "leave 'em alone" - and, really, "leave 'em alone" - but yet I'm in favor of this given the hero worship factor for little kids. 

In fact, I'm also in favor of banning open spitting of said chew. Or get the players to at least turn their back to the playing field when they spit. Yes, I realize this is ridiculous and won't happen but I had several family members and friends this year tell me that they can't actually stomach watching baseball games any more due to the incessant spitting. It got me to paying more attention to that aspect of the game and it seriously is a constant. Can't imagine it's drawing in fans.

Baseball Cards On Cake

I can't put into words just how much I love my daughter. I've tried, but it's pointless. There are no words. 

I tell her several times a day, of course, but I'm also letting her know in my writings to her that I plan to share with her when she's older. I want her to know what I was thinking before she arrived, when she was born and throughout her years.

She's the world to me. She's also a miracle child - the fact she's even here after many challenges. I'm very blessed to be a Dad.

She turned 4 in late July, followed by my birthday a few weeks later. Leading up to my day, my wife asked my daughter what kind of cake I should have.

She insisted on a baseball card cake for Daddy!

"How about that?" - to quote a legend.

She has no idea how happy that made me - that she pays attention to my hobby and wanted the theme for my cake. Very sweet. 

My wife asked if I could spare a few cards. Um, yeah, not much of a problem there. So I opened the junk box and snagged a few at random.

I plan to share who ended up on the cake in a later post but for now...

CONTEST TIME!

I've had a lot of fun since I started this blog. I haven't been as prolific as many bloggers, but I've been more prolific than I expected - given work, family time, a few other hobbies and a crazy year selling a house, moving to temporary digs and at least part of every weekend (and some week nights) home shopping.

Yeah, I'm here admitting that when I started the blog I kind of figured it would fizzle. But now, I'm fairly sure I'll be around for awhile. Sure there might be some extended breaks down the road but in general I hope to post every other or every third day or so.

The reality is that my return to collecting this year, and the blog, have been not just fun - but cathartic. Part of the fun? The many blog contests.

Now I'd like to try my hand at it. Nothing too fancy. Baby steps. (I'll announce full details in my next post - my 100th.)

If you haven't noticed, my blog has a new name. Well, actually, it's just a placeholder - the poll explains more. My contest will relate to my blog name, in part.

You're welcome to vote in the poll and you're also welcome to tell me (in the comments here or in my next post) to tell me why you voted the way you voted. Doing so will get you one entry.

I may or may not mention this in the official contest post - where other ways to get entries will be revealed. If not, a bonus to those of you who read to the end of this post.

So, thanks again to all of you for reading. And, maybe don't get too excited about the contest. I'm trying to finalize a couple of decent prizes and I'll probably offer a few choices to, say, the top three chosen via ye ol' randomizer. 

The Dirt On Wrigley

Late last month I posted a bit about a great return trade package sent by reader Ryan LaMonica - a frequent and awesome trade friend.

Among the included fun: an Aramis Ramirez jersey relic with a much-desired (for me, at least) stripe.

Here's the thing I somehow glossed over while admiring the card. Look closely at the bottom of the swatch. Do you see it? Strain your eyes more than, you're not that old!

Whatever, it's quite visible in hand.

Dirt! A smudge of dirt!

Now, I noticed the dirt before of course but somehow it didn't dawn on me that this is possibly Wrigley Field* dirt. Ryan wrote me yesterday and suggested it may very well be.

What do you think?

Very cool, if so. I just don't know. Do they truly not wash these unis before slicing and dicing?

* Speaking of Wrigley Field, my wife got tickets for us to enjoy a free evening at the game versus my Reds last night. This is an annual night, typically at White Sox park, bestowed to her and many others by the hospital where she once spent far too much time. Unfortunately, we weren't able to make it due to work and family commitments. Waaaaaah!

I Before E Except After P. Whaaa!?

Months ago, I asked if anyone could explain the card below, and ...

... crickets. 

Maybe it had something to do with the fact I had one follower at the time, myself.

So I ask once more, please. Does anyone know? I'm sure this has likely been discussed in the Wide World of Sports Blogs countless times, but I've missed it. For real, Google searches have revealed nothing.

Oh, and in case you have no idea what I'm talking about, Prince's last name is spelled wrong. Did Topps do this on purpose for some odd reason? Is this card worth $11,000!!!? Ebay says "no" but what the H does it know. I could be holding onto my child's college education - and I have more than one!

(OK, so I'm delusional. Insomnia does this to me.)

And while I'm here posting, if you happen to have GQ for trade, or Heritage ... well, I wrote all about my hopes and best-laid plans here.

Ginter Flu

I'm sick for Ginter. I want it. I've never joined the fray before - thanks to my relatively (early 2011) recent return to the hobby. You people are all getting me flustered about it, what with your pretty picture posts and so forth.

So, should I buy it? Is it worth it? Box? Packs? What not? I've heard some criticism. What's that all about?

Should I wait and pick it up at The National? (Speaking of which, who's going?) I don't want to put this all on you, dear reader, but I need your help.

I know this isn't 2011 A&G. SewingMachineGuy sent it to me a few months ago. What a guy!

Junk v. Junk

I really should rethink the headline here. Now that I'm looking at it again, I'm a little uncomfortable. Oh well, what's done is done.

So, with our house selling in Illinois and a quick exit needed, we're in temporary (4 months perhaps) quarters while we search for a new home. Me, my wife and my sweet little girl are essentially living in what amounts to a dorm. Did I mention my 88-year-old grandfather lives here too? It's actually his house we've invaded!

Before you ask, yes, we're crazy. We're in a small house with an 88-year-old and almost 4-year-old. And, we work from home on phones and computers. Technically, one of us works from home while the other trades off and works from a library, coffee shop and assorted WiFi hot spots.

What's the point of all of this?

This is an example of a card you would NOT get if you participate in the junk v. junk cardapalooza.

I still need room. You see, I still have an addiction to baseball cards. I pick them up fairly often. I even grab those re-packaged typically worthless packs at various outlets - such as Walgreens. Like all of us, I end up filing a good amount of cards in my teams-and/or-years-I-don't-collect boxes.

I'd like to free some room. Oh, who am I kidding. I'm mostly interested in sending away some cards in exchange for others. You know, the entire point of trading.

Bottom line:

If you have random Reds, Tigers, Cubs, White Sox, Steelers, Indy Colts (wait Steelers and Colts? Yep!) then I'd be happy to send along similar randomness from your preferred team(s). I'm somewhat light on a couple of teams, but generally have between 50 to 75 cards to send from any given team. Send me a note (dw.reds@gmail.com) or leave a comment if you have an interest.

Editor's Note: Yankees, Dodgers and Cardinals are now preciously thin due to claims or claims three months ago, so I probably can't help there at this time.

Contest! My Blog Name! Need Lady Cards! Exclamation Points!

Trading friend Ryan G. over at This Card Is Cool is running a cool contest. Take a look:

http://thiscardiscool.blogspot.com/2011/06/congratulations-you-may-already-be.html

I enjoy Ryan's blog a lot - so much so I "borrowed" his backdrop, I later realized. Speaking of my blog, I've given thought since I started it to changing the name entirely. The name I picked on a whim one night was suggested by my lovely wife - sort of an inside joke. She didn't think I was going with it but I typed it in there to crack her up and voila!

What do you think? Change it to something reflecting my collecting interests or Midwest location or something playing off my other interests (literature, running, history).

Speaking of history (wow, I'm really stream of conscious this morning) can anyone suggest a set that has a lot of history cards (presidential, perhaps) or where I could go to find cards depicting women who have achieved in some (any) field? The latter would be to set aside for my daughter for when she's a bit older. If anyone has such cards they don't want, let me know.

I grabbed these guys (below) at the LCS the other day and it got me thinking along these lines.

Running Without Being Chased

I was always a late bloomer when it came to athletic endeavors.

I couldn't hit or field much of anything in my Little League days - and a couple of black eyes proved my reflexes weren't much to write home about either; could shoot but not dribble; wasn't a fan of getting hit on the football field - so forget that; and I was winded after a lap or two around the basketball court in gym class.

I grew fairly discouraged and turned my attention to the numbers of the games. Hence my early love of tracking baseball and football stats and collecting sports cards. (I also turned my attention to band, theater, literature and other excellent nerd-like pursuits.)

I toyed around with sports in high school but with several thousand students at the school and some excellent top-in-the-state teams, I had no chance of making any of the various teams. To stay close to the action and to be able to scrimmage with friends on the team, I managed the basketball teams and kept stats.

In my 20s, I found my confidence. I ended up joining several pretty tough softball leagues and intramural basketball leagues and ended up being a go-to player - not a star, but clutch. 

But it still didn't take much for me to get winded after a few times up and down the court. You see, I worked in the newspaper business and dined on a steady diet of fast food eaten while driving to assignments or, later, editing at my desk at all hours - then late night/after work beers with my ragtag newspaper buds.

Ten years ago, at a highly HIGHLY stressful point in my life, I took up running. I took baby steps. Literally. I would run 1/4 of a mile, then gradually ramped it up until 1 mile became my own personal marathon. Eventually I ran my first 5K and I goofed around for many years with that distance. I tackled one 10K early on but I was a mess with it.

I never seemed to progress in my running. I never got too serious - even with Chicago's Lakefront a few hundred yards away.

But late last year I decided it was time to commit to something bigger. I have a child, finally. I'm 42 now. 42 with 43 staring me down! (Side note: When exactly did all of that aging happen? I feel like I'm 22 - well, 30 if I'm being honest - but still, not 42.)

Bottom line: Life is speeding up. It happens to the best of us.

So, on May 7, I checked off one of those - and I'm not particularly a fan of this term, but I'll say it anyways - "bucket list" items.

I ran a Half Marathon - 13.1 miles - with close to 35,000 other people - the country's largest half. Bands played, residents of the neighborhoods cheered along the route, my wife, mom and daughter were there. I got to run on the Indianapolis Motor Speedway. I didn't blaze trails but I beat my goal by 20 minutes.

And here's the thing - I want to do it again! 

Running before this had been something I had learned to enjoy - a way to cope with the stresses of life - but something I did in small doses simply to maintain a decent level of fitness. It made me feel better about my love of chocolate and pizza and the occasional bad food run.

But running became something different to me while I pounded the pavement of Indianapolis. With thousands around me, I felt alone. I loved that feeling.

It proved to be not only a physical challenge for me, but a great mental challenge. That was an awesome surprise.

I've written this as a record of my thoughts about the race but just maybe I'll inspire someone else to tackle something challenging for them - whether a run like this or anything else.