News: Your Stories

Leading up to the 2008 event:

First of all, I'm a cyclist, not a runner. Second, well, I'm a cyclist, not a runner.

My sister's the runner, and she asked ever so nicely if she could come out and stay at my house so she could run the Arizona Distance Classic in 2005. Oh, and would I run it with her? Right. I'm a cyclist...

I walked the half in 2005 and 2006. In 2007 a small miracle occurred and our father - who has been basically sedentary his whole life - read John's book and began to fail to fail. He came out and ran the 5K with my sister and me. I cherish the picture of us with our Penguin medals.

The 2008 Classic looms as another important milestone for me. I've signed up to run a full marathon (Right, right... I'm a cyclist, not a runner). I've been teaching cycling safety classes for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society's Team in Training century participants for several years. Having lost a friend many years ago to leukemia, I finally decided I needed to do my part to help eradicate this disease, however I didn't feel right about asking my friends and family to donate money so I could ride my umpteenth century ride. I figured if they were putting money out there, I ought to be putting something of myself out there, too - the possibility of failure. The classic is at just the right point in time to incorporate it into my marathon training schedule. So this year, for Scott, I run.

If only I were a runner, not a cyclist...

—Donna

The family that runs together, stays together

In my younger days I ran 35 miles per week, unless training for a marathon, then it went up to 60 miles. I ran alone, without family.

Last year, at age 72, I ran the 5K with my two sons. They each took a second place in their divisions, and I took first place in mine (there were only 5 crazy old men).

Our stories of the fun we had, the beauty of the course, and our joy in running, spread through the family. This year, there are 32 people coming to Tucson for the race and a reunion. Fifteen of us will be running in either the 5K or the Half Marathon.

Excitment is already building. Emails arrive daily with stories of encouragment, announcements of goals achieved, or new training PR's.

Maybe the family that runs together, stays together.

—David Jones

Leading up to the 2007 event:

Icarus on the Run

In Greek mythology, Daedalus and his son Icarus are imprisoned on the isle of Crete. With no prospects of rescue by sea, the father looks to the skies for a means of escape. Using beeswax and bird feathers, he crafts two pairs of wings. Before donning the wings and taking flight, Daedalus warns his son that if they fly too low, the sea's moisture will weigh them down and they'll be unable to hold themselves up. Yet, if they fly too high, the sun's heat will melt the wax, the feathers will fall off, and they'll fall to their deaths. At first Icarus heeds his father's advice; however, gradually his moves become more daring, and he begins to soar higher and higher, forgetting his father's words. Too late, he realizes that the wax is dripping from his wings, feathers are falling away, and he plummets to his death.

As a runner with significant health concerns, the story of Icarus is close to my heart. Rather than remaining imprisoned by asthma and an occasionally irregular heartbeat, my doctors and I have crafted a means of escape. Each time I run I push myself, therein growing stronger; yet, I must not come too close to the limits of my breathing or the triggers that cause attacks. Some days are better than others, so determining just how hard I can safely push is a challenge, and sometimes I get it right, but other times I don't.

I am frequently asked why I subject myself to the rigors of running; why don't I find a pursuit for which I'm better suited? And, when I'm tired, or when I start to sputter and cough, sometimes I ask myself that same question, but the answer is always the same.

The Reason I Run

Why do you do it, Sis? Why do you run?
It's hard on your body, and can't be much fun,

To get up on the weekends before the sun rises,
To race, though you'll never win valuable prizes.

Your asthma flares up and you cough and you sputter,
You sneeze and you wheeze, and your heart starts to flutter,

And pound out a jazz beat in three-quarter time,
While you're still on the flats; then the course starts to climb.

Then your quads, hips and hamstrings, they whimper and whine,
Yet you finish the course, then say, "Everything's fine!"

Tell me, why do you do it? Mary, why do you run?
I just can't believe that it's all that much fun.

The reason I do it, the reason I run?
It's the closest to flying that I'll ever come.

Since starting this journey my flights have grown longer,
My frailties weaker, my wings that much stronger.

I'm careful to soar not too close to the sun,
So my wings never melt, and the song that is sung,

By my soul is an aria, measured and true,
Rising high in the sky, praising God for the view,

And the chance to glide silently over the earth,
On my spirit's own current, the course set for rebirth.

Please don't clip my wings, nor deny me this run.
It's the race of all races; my freedom is won.

— Mary Longcore

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My oldest daughter is a runner. She had encouraged me to start running twenty years ago. I enjoyed the feeling running gave me immensely. Then ten years ago I pulled my groin so badly I couldn't walk without pain for almost 4 years. During that time I also had problems with blood clots in my leg from medication. I started developing fibromyalgia, slowly gained 50 pounds and became severely depressed. Running didn't seem to be an option. Even so, I continued my subscription to Runners World. Reading other people's experiences kept up my desire to run—no matter how hidden—alive.

Finally, that feeling I got when I ran was awoken from the recesses of my mind. I could imagine myself running again. Last year as I was approaching my 50th birthday—I made the goal to complete a marathon by my fiftieth birthday. So I started out on our treadmill. I was going along fine, getting my mileage up when I pulled my shoulder out (doing something unrelated) and then the treadmill broke a few days later. Finding an alternative running source was not a problem but I was in so much pain from my shoulder that it stopped me in my tracks. Once again depression set in—it hurt to move any part of my body almost to the point of passing out. That did it—I wasn't going anywhere for a while. I turned 50 in October and thought my dream of running a marathon was gone. Then a friend of mine who is a massage therapist came to my aid. She worked on my shoulder in tandem with getting chiropractic care. Their care literally got me up and running again and running actually helps with my pain. I may not be running through the entire half marathon in Oro Valley this year but I am going to complete the course in whatever time it takes. I am 50. I can stretch, I can kick and I can run. A full marathon is on the horizon and I can see it.

See you there!

Carrie Rockwell Amerind

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From the Inaugural Arizona Distance Classic, March 13, 2005

I started running in spring 2004 as a way to cope with my husband's pending deployment to Iraq. He'd be leaving me for a year with three small kids, a business, health problems, and the looming reality that a marine in dress blues could ring the door bell at any time.

I've never been an athlete—I'm a born penguin—and never thought I could run a block! John's books gave me faith in myself, and gave me the tools to stick to running well after the three week novelty wore off. I signed up for the AZDC half-marathon to have a goal, and to guarantee myself one small treat, without kids, during this deployment. I came to the start line on March 13 glad for the chance to run in the sun while Chicago remained a frozen wasteland. The race did not disappoint. The terrain was gorgeous, everyone was so friendly, and there were penguins galore!

Sure, there was a pack of 'real runners,' but there were more people like me than like them! I went into the race without an ideal time to beat, but as I neared the end it began to look like I'd make it in under the 3 hour mark. When I got within 50 yards of the finish line, I started to kick it up, and when the announcer announced my name and hometown, I went into a full sprint. The announcer had the crowd fired up, then got them *counting down* to the 3 hour mark. I floored it, and made it.

I felt like an Olympic athlete, complete with play-by-play and photo-finish. I went back to my car and cried with joy and pride and with whatever else breaks loose after a giant act of kindness is bestowed upon someone who has been waiting for another shoe to drop for nearly a year. Then, I found John Bingham to thank him. I intended to shake his hand, but ended up giving him a big hug instead. He was gracious—I'm guessing he gets that a lot from grimy, blotchy, inarticulate new runners who just made it over the finish line thanks to him.

My husband is scheduled to return from Iraq in a month, and I look forward to introducing him to the AZDC next spring. No doubt he will want to thank John too, for getting me through this deployment with body and soul stronger than they were before.

Thanks to all of you for such a wonderful race. My spirit is renewed, and I am now a runner!

Sincerely,
Lisa Stauff, bib #29

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Although I have taught fitness classes and have been a gym rat since the 1980's, I am a relatively new runner—I started my running 'career' in September 2003 on a dare from one of my students. I signed up for the Arizona Distance Classic hooked on the "have to run the first to run them all" thing. I felt really good and strong.

Dana the greyhound

Three weeks before the race, however, my beloved greyhound, Dana, became very ill very quickly. I was spending time at the vet with her and time at home with her trying to figure out if what she had was curable. Unfortunately, it was not and she quietly slipped away a week before the race. So I basically blew off the majority of the last 3 weeks of training for what I was figuring would be my hardest (due to the hill factor) race yet. I thought about not running, but something made me make the trip down to Tucson to do it.

When I lined up at the starting line, I had very low expectations—which got even lower as we hit the first uphill. I don't know how I did it, but armed with a small photo of my baby in my fanny pack, I ran a 2:15. No land speed record for many people, but for me it was an unbelievable PR 2:15, given the terrain, my lack of training, and the amount of stress I had recently experienced. I crossed the finish with a big smile of disbelief and relief on my face and Dana's photo in my hand.

I look forward to running the race next year and beyond as a tribute to my wonderful pup who I firmly believe was there with me to help get the job done, and I hope that time permits me to join you at the Chicago Distance Classic this August, as well.

— Paula

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I ran the race on Sunday, March 13, 2005 and this is my first race since having lower back surgery in June of last year. I have been changing the way I run, protecting my lower back where the surgery was performed and was up to about 8 miles without any kind of discomfort. I met a few of my neighbors who were amazed that I was doing the race and personally I did not know if I would do on a 13 mile race. However, as I consistantly met a 10 minute mile I focused on trying to increase the speed towards the end and making it in 2 hours. As I rounded the corner I knew that the medal that I would receive meant to me that I was still in great shape, I could run a half marathon, and that my back surgery was behind me and I could run races again!!

— Paul C.

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Our success story:

My daughter and I ran our first race ever and had a great experience! I first read about John "The Penguin" Bingham when I was sitting in the doctor's lounge last October waiting for my annual physical. I, like a lot of other people, could totally relate to John's story. I would have never got excited about the 5K, or thought I could have done it, unless I had initially read that article in Fitness Magazine. John's humble attitude and unique viewpoints made me laugh and want to participate.

On the eve of the race, I started getting nervous again and was glad I brought a copy of John's book, The Courage to Start. I recommend this book to anyone who is new to running. It made me not take myself so seriously and actually enjoy my first race. My daughter and I are planning on making the Arizona Distance Classic OUR annual event.

Thanks to all the smiling volunteers! And thanks John, for asking AT LEAST 15 people for a special pen to autograph my poster. Most people would have given up!

— Cindi and Theresa, Glendale AZ

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