March 31, 2018: Lustgarten Foundation Walk for Pancreatic Cancer Research

Today's post is not about a run.  This is a memorial to a friend who recently passed away, Han Chun Choi.  Han and Bonnie have been friends for more than 20 years, going back to their first years in Atlanta as young attorneys.  They were among the first members of the Georgia chapter of the National Asian Pacific American Bar Association (NAPABA, the state chapter being GAPABA).  I first met Han and his wife Catherine 8 or 9 years ago when Bonnie and I were dating.  Han was managing partner at the Ballard Spahr law firm, a loving husband to Catherine, and proud father to three teen-age children Christopher, David, and Hannah, with the brightest of futures ahead of them.  Han was a pillar in the community, not only with service and leadership with many organizations in the legal community, but also serving on the board of the Decatur Education Foundation and the Georgia Center for Nonprofits, and providing pro bono work for the International Women's House.  Most recently he was the president of the Georgia chapter of the Korean American Bar Association (KABA-GA).  In his last year, Han and his family partnered with the NAPABA Law Foundation to establish the Han C. Choi Scholarship Fund to support first- or second-year law students.

Han and his children serving on Martin Luther King Day 

Leadership by doing, stuffing envelopes for KABA even while battling cancer

In October 2016, Bonnie and I were invited to Han and Catherine's home to celebrate their dual 50th birthdays, what they titled the "100/2" celebration.  This was a wonderful party, with several dozen friends and members of their families gathering to celebrate.  I remember Han and Catherine speaking of the happiness of their lives and expressing so much optimism for the future.  

Love and joy 

and all the hope in the world.

And then in April 2017, we learned the terrible news that Han was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer.  None of us had any idea that cancer cells were lurking in Han's body in the months before his first symptom of jaundice.  Han immediately began a regimen of chemotherapy to try to shrink the tumor enough to attempt surgical removal, which in itself would have been a high-risk procedure.  But despite everyone's best efforts, the cancer only continued to grow and spread, preventing any hope for a surgical treatment.  Shortly after the New Year, Han celebrated his 52nd birthday.  He continued working on good days and traveling with his family through mid-February, when his illness finally sapped too much of his energy.  At that time, Han asked his friends to come to visit.  Catherine generously welcomed the many friends and family that streamed through their home to share a few minutes with Han.  I was grateful for the opportunity to thank Han in person for his great support when Bonnie struggled professionally, and to share with him the news that I had just been selected in the lottery to run the New York City Marathon in November, a race that he completed in 2014.  Han shared some advice for the start, which I will endeavor to follow, in his memory. 

Han in the Atlanta Falcons' locker room on a tour of Mercedes-Benz Stadium,
in advance of the fall 2017 season

Han is wearing the poncho
immediately after finishing the
2014 New York City marathon

Han was the paragon of health: no unhealthy habits or behavior as far as I know.  He was a golfer, ran the Georgia Marathon twice, regularly competed in the Tour deCatur 5K (with the Decatur Education Foundation), and even completed a triathlon in 2011, back when I was still an overweight out-of-shape couch potato.  Han was a joyful person with a genuine smile and a positive demeanor.  He did "everything right".  Yet cancer still came after him, and in one of its most aggressive forms.  Han shed a few tears during our visit, as I did as well, knowing as I hugged him that it was really goodbye forever.  Han passed away on Monday evening March 26, exactly four weeks to the last evening that we visited him.  

This morning a large group of Han's friends in GAPABA and KABA completed the Lustgarten Run/Walk for Pancreatic Cancer Research, a 3-mile route on the Eastside Beltline.  A few people asked me if I was going to run.  But for me, today's event was not about getting to the finish line as quickly as possible.  Instead it was an opportunity to share our thoughts and memories of Han, and to strengthen bonds with friends.  (And I was still recovering from the marathon, not yet in shape to run, but glad that I could comfortably walk the route.)  It was a beautiful cool morning, without a cloud in the sky.  Before we began the walk, a young woman who had lost her grandmother and then her mother to pancreatic cancer cut a purple ribbon at the start-finish line.  This was a sobering moment for us: the plan was for pancreatic cancer survivors, including Han, to cut the ribbon.  But there were no survivors among us today.  Not only did Han leave us five days before our walk, another survivor who was planning to join us also recently passed away, two days before Han.  

Before the start of this morning's walk

Ribbon-cutting to start the walk.
When this was first planned, we had hoped that Han could join the ribbon cutting ceremony,
but it was not to be. 

It was wonderful to see our large group of purple-clad walkers on the Beltline.  I spent most of my time walking with Michele Hoover and Michael Ray, part of the larger circle of friends that Han had touched during his life in Atlanta.  As the walk progressed, my mood began to improve, from mourning to celebrating life and enjoying the beauty of the day.  

Bonnie with a few other GAPABA participants

Han will be missed by the large number of people that he influenced and inspired, but his legacy will live on, in his friends and family and children, in those continuing his professional and service work.  And even when we're all long gone, perhaps even when his name is no longer remembered, all of the good that he gave the world in 52 short years will grow and propagate forever into the future.  Rest in peace, Han Chun Choi. 

March 18, 2018: Publix Georgia Marathon

Today I finished my fourth marathon.  But, it wasn't pretty.  I was nervous going into the race due to the nagging injury from the Southside 12K four weeks ago.  My last run on Tuesday evening (4-1/2 days earlier) went OK as I was able to run a couple of sub-9 minute miles on the track, but pain in my left hip, left Achilles, and right shin never went away.  At packet pickup, I learned that a friend had changed her registration from the marathon to the 5K after suffering an injury.  I just couldn't imagine giving up on all of my training to this point, the massive investment of hours over the past four months, including three good runs >20 miles.  And so while resting my legs during the taper, keeping the exercise to a long walk each day, I hoped that I would be ready to complete the course. 

The weather today was spectacularly good: 55 deg F at the start, with a few clouds but promising to be mostly sunny, so that I liberally applied sunscreen in the hour before the race began.  I jogged a few steps here and there and was relieved that I could run, although not pain-free.  Nonetheless I was prepared with three mantras, in increasing order of intensity: 

1) SMILE!   Because I'm grateful that I can do this.  And Eliud Kipchoge smiles in his tough miles. 

And when things got tougher, I could fall back on the Weight Watchers mantra:

2) QUITTING IS NOT AN OPTION!  

And if my race began to completely fall apart, Running Rogue provided me with:

3) I'M A ******* BADASS!!

Completed lots of Saturday long runs with this great group!  And we're all smiling at 6:55 am. 

I began the race in wave C behind the 4:30 pacer, mostly to join a few friends from the Atlanta Track Club training group.  I set my watch to 4:30 run, 0:30 walk intervals.  My plan was to let them go ahead while I aimed for a 10:30 min / mile pace in the first four miles, and I would gradually work to catch back up, hopefully by the half-marathon split.  Crossing the starting mat at 7:09 am, as one of the last runners in wave C, I deployed mantra #1, SMILE!  I was able to run, not too fast, but easily managed a 10:30 min / mile pace.  I took the first walk break after 4-1/2 minutes, and shortly after resuming running, the first of the wave D runners caught up to me!  Nonetheless I was moving along fairly well, although on the high-end of 10 min / mile pace.  I was a little disappointed to cross the 5K mat at 35:22 (11:23 min / mile pace), probably right after a walk break, but at least I had not started out too fast!  My legs started to warm up and weren't too painful at this point, so I was able to speed up a bit, running closer to 10 min / mile pace for the next few miles. 

After the mile 5 marker, I saw Coach Carl Leivers and his family in front of the Variety Playhouse, as promised.  SMILE!  This was probably where I was feeling the best for the entire morning, and was pleased to be able to run relaxed past the Coach.  I reached the 10K sensor at 1:07:35 (10:53 min / mile pace) and was speeding up a bit.  I began to calculate, 40K would be 4:30, + 2 more km at 12 - 14 minutes, which meant I better run faster in the second half!  At the split after mile 7 where we left the half marathon runners, I felt like we had a larger group going for the marathon than last year.  I knew that this section would be hilly, but didn't really have much trouble going up hills at the easy pace.

After mile 12, approaching Decatur, the pain in my left hip started to get pretty bad.  This was disappointing: the first half of the marathon was supposed to be the easy part, and yet I was already having trouble.  I had improved my overall pace to 10:32 min / mile by mile 12, so until that point, a 4:30 finish was possible if I could speed up a little more in the second half.  But this was where I began to slow down.  By the time that I crossed the 13.1 timing mat in downtown Decatur, at 2:20, my overall pace was 10:43 min / mile.  SMILE!  QUITTING IS NOT AN OPTION!  The next few miles from Decatur to the Emory campus were net downhill.  Last year I easily sped up in this section.  Not today.  I was now definitely limping, not a good look, especially not this early in the race.

It took forever to get to the Emory campus, what a shame on these familiar streets.  I was now running between 11 and 12 min / mile pace.  Near the mile 16 marker, Bill and Liesl Wuest from the chemistry department were there to cheer me.  Their son, Max, paced me down the hill.  I asked "Max, can you run the next 10 miles for me?"  Miles 17 - 20 wound through the Druid Hills neighborhood.  It wasn't the hills that were getting to me, it was the distance and the time.  I now needed more than 13 minutes to complete a mile.  If there was any consolation, many of the other runners around me were also having trouble.  SMILE!  QUITTING IS NOT AN OPTION!  and now it was time for the nuclear option:  I'M A ******* BADASS!!   as I limped past a man wearing a Rock 'n' Roll marathon shirt.  

When I crossed the mile 20 sensor at 3:48 (11:24 min / mile), all of my time goals for the race were now out of reach.  It was just about finishing.  I walked most of miles 21 and 22, through the hills of Virginia-Highland.  My friend from Tucker Running Club, Linda Bode Phinney, was a 5:00 pacer.  She called my name as she approached, saying "C'mon Frank, we'll get up this hill together!"  I shook my head no.  Linda asked "Are you injured?"  "Yes, I'll be OK, but I need to walk right now."  She and her group went on.  I was so disappointed to realize that I was going to record my slowest marathon time, but now it was just about getting to the finish line, without cheating.  Yes, I was thinking about where I might cut the course, but stayed honest, repeating  SMILE!  QUITTING IS NOT AN OPTION!  I'M A ******* BADASS!!  SMILE!  QUITTING IS NOT AN OPTION!  I'M A ******* BADASS!!  SMILE!  QUITTING IS NOT AN OPTION!  I'M A ******* BADASS!!  until the feeling had passed.  

There were quite a few people cheering in the final miles today.  If any of you are reading this, your encouragement was really appreciated!  I was trying to limp-run more than limp-walk.  Remarkably, the downhill sections were more painful on the hip than the uphill sections, which led me to think that the injury occurred running downhill as fast as possible in the Southside 12K.  Finally we made it into the Georgia Tech campus, at the mile 24 marker.  2.2 miles to go.  In the original plan, this is where I was going to try to gun into the finish with a couple of 9 minute miles.  Today I managed to speed up to 16 minutes.  SMILE!  QUITTING IS NOT AN OPTION!  I'M A ******* BADASS!!  OH THE PAIN! 

The last part of the course changed this year due to some construction at Centennial Olympic Park, so at the mile 25 marker, instead of turning onto Marietta Street, we made a U-turn to run back through Georgia Tech to Luckie Street.  And I saw Harley and Jessica, two run leads from Track Club training, with the 5:30 pace group sign.  OK, I have a new time goal: DO NOT LET HARLEY AND JESSICA CATCH UP!  SMILE!  QUITTING IS NOT AN OPTION!  I'M A ******* BADASS!!  Yet it took FOREVER to get to the Aquarium at the intersection with Ivan Allen Blvd.  As we crossed the street, I could see the 26 mile sign, and a volunteer called out, "400 meters to go!"  

I couldn't manage a SMILE at this point.  I was barely willing myself to finish.  QUITTING IS NOT AN OPTION.  Limping slowly down the street, the last turn took its sweet time coming up to me, even though I had now "sped up" to a 14 min / mile pace.  Several run leads in the Atlanta Track Club were cheering me by name.  Tears were coming to my eyes from the pain and the emotion.  I'm glad that I was wearing sunglasses.  I'M A ******* BADASS.  And then, there was the finish line, in the same place as the Hotlanta Half and Atlanta's Finest 5K finish lines.  An announcer was handing out high fives, I tapped his hand as I pushed to the finish line.  Unfortunately I had completely run out of SMILE.  There was Bonnie on the left side, taking my photo as I crossed the finish line.  She looked concerned, and relieved to see me.  I accepted my medal, a bottle of water, and a banana.  I began looking for the entrance to the medical tent. 

Finally!  

Or is it the second timing mat? 

OK, now it's official. 

"Where's the medical tent?!"

Never too injured to stop the watch

Didn't quit. 

I remembered a spoof video on what NOT to do in a race:  "I don't think you've tried unless you've gone to the medical tent."  Well, I tried, that's for sure.  And I finished.  That is what mattered today.  And the guys in the medical tent were great.  They packed my left thigh with a couple of bags of ice, which felt so good.  I lay down on a cot for a few minutes, assured Bonnie that while my leg was killing me, the most important organs (heart, lungs, brain) were fine.  And after about 15 minutes, I took off the ice, was able to stand, and walk slowly but successfully. 

I am really disappointed that I didn't have a good race, after all of the training, but it's 100% my fault.  Five weeks ago, I was in shape to run a sub 4:30 marathon.  I'm confident that I could have done it if I hadn't made a big mistake one week later.  I ignored Coach Amy's advice to run the 12K race at marathon pace (10 min / mile).  Instead I let testosterone take over and ran at my 10K PR pace (8 min / mile).  I've been paying for it, and probably will continue to hurt for a few more weeks.  The first order of business for the next several weeks is rest and recovery.  I'm glad that I've resisted the temptation to register for any other paid races prior to the Hotlanta Half in mid-June.  I hope that I will be fully recovered by then. 

My next marathon will be the New York City Marathon on November 4 - yes, I won a lottery entry!  And now I realize that preparing for that marathon must be my total running commitment.  There's no point in going after new PRs in the 5K, 10K, half marathon, etc. for this year, as I've mastered those races well enough.  Because after four marathons, I've only had one decent finish.  And the last thing I want is a bad experience in front of a million spectators and millions more watching on television or internet feeds.  

This tells the entire story in a nutshell. 

March 10, 2018: The Charles Harris Run for Leukemia (10K)

Bonnie snapped this photo at bib pickup before the race,
making it look like I was about to be devoured
by the Tucker Tiger, while I was attaching my race bib.  

The training cycle for next weekend's Publix Georgia Marathon has gone very well for me, knocking out the long runs with the 10 min / mile pace group.  After completing a 22.5 mile run four weeks ago, I declared myself ready to run the marathon, with considerable confidence that I would break the 4:30 mark.  And then, three weeks ago:

I ran the Southside 12K.

Coach Amy Begley had advised us to run the race at marathon pace, which for me would have been a 10 min / mile pace, finishing just under 75 minutes.  But I had realized, if I could maintain my 10K personal record 8 min / mile pace for two more kilometers, I would finish in less than 60 minutes.  And I did just that, recording a time of 59:36 for my first 12K race.  I deployed a new mantra that pushed me up the last tough hill going into the finish line.  

But I paid dearly for that effort.  I didn't think that I was injured at first, but as the general soreness faded in the next day or two, I was left with a sore Achilles on the left ankle, weakness in the right ankle, and a painful left hip, which was either an IT band or a quadriceps strain, maybe both.  I've struggled with several runs since then.  Two weeks ago, I did finish a 20.5-mile run at a 12 min / mile pace to complete my third 20+ long run of the cycle.  But the injuries are still bothering me, despite spending considerable time on the foam roller and less time actually running.  Certainly I haven't been overdoing it during the taper period.  I just hope that I can run without too much pain next weekend.

Good turnout by the Tucker Running Club!

For the fifth consecutive year, I registered for the Charles Harris Run for Leukemia.  This is a fast net downhill course, typically held in the weeks before Peachtree Road Race registration closes.  If I hadn't injured myself a few weeks ago, I probably would have raced hard today to see if I could trim a few seconds off my previous personal record of 49:28.  But I was in no shape to do that today.  In fact I deliberately made sure that I registered a week ago for the Peachtree Road Race, to remove one major reason to try too hard today. 

Part of the Ben's Wizards team, before the race:
(l-to-r) Richard Wilson, me, Teresa Ducuara, Michele Richard 

The main motivation for continuing with the race was to join the Ben's Wizards team.  A few years ago, one of my running buddies Richard Wilson lost a friend and co-worker to leukemia.  Ben Newman was only in his 40's when he passed away.  Richard had told me a little about Ben in the past, and when Richard and his fiancé invited me to join Ben's Wizards, I was happy to join.  They created purple shirts for the team, purple being the color adopted by the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society.  

I warmed up with about a quarter mile walk inside the Tucker High School gym and then began to run slowly, feeling considerable pain in my left hip.  After less than a half-mile, I stopped for the Tucker Running Club photo, then resumed with two laps on the track outside, barely at a 10 min / mile pace.  With some trepidation, I headed for the start, taking a position near the back of the pack.  

With Donna Roberts, who worked the water station at the Southside 12K

My main running goal for today was to try out a new mantra.  Turns out, the mantra that I used in the Southside 12K was "too strong," pushing me so hard that I injured myself!  So I needed a more appropriate mantra.  

At the 40 km water station in last month's Tokyo Marathon, Yuta Shitara picked up a badge
with his mantra, driving him to a second-place finish and a new marathon record for a Japanese runner.

While that might have worked for Yuta Shitara in the Tokyo Marathon, in which he won a 100 million yen award for setting a new marathon record for a Japanese runner, that would be too mild for me.  And then I realized that I've been carrying the perfect mantra on my wrist ID: "Quitting is not an option."  That comes from our Weight Watchers leader, encouraging healthy eating in moderation, while in the midst of a largely sedentary society with abundant and inexpensive fast food options.

Mantra slightly modified due to Road ID character limit

The race started shortly before 8 am.  Some of my friends in the Tucker Running Club were a little surprised to see me starting behind them, but I needed to start slowly and carefully.  I had set my watch to a 4:30 run, 0:30 walk, and took the first walk break midway through the first mile.  Getting back to a run was a little difficult for the first few steps, but as my legs warmed up, I was able to stride a bit better.  Intending to run the race at a 10 min / mile pace, I was a little surprised to complete the first mile in 9:40.  I decided that if I could stick with the 9:40 min / mile pace, I would finish in a respectable time of 60 minutes.  But in mile 2, I slowed to 9:57, and needed 10:04 for mile 3.  I passed the 5K marker at 31 minutes even, on pace for a 62 minute finish. 

It's amazing how an injury can plant so many negative thoughts in my mind.  I started to wonder, in next week's race, should I drop from the marathon to the half-marathon? or the 5K? That would really be a shame after all of the effort that I've made to prepare for 26.2 miles.  "Quitting is not an option!"  And that's when I decided that I would try to push myself a little harder.  For mile 4, I was back to a 9:43 pace.  I also realized that the transition from walking to running was part of my problem, so decided to skip some of the walk breaks for the rest of the race.  I certainly wasn't winded, as my voice was strong as I thanked the volunteers at the water station.  I was beginning to pass other runners, and hadn't been passed by anyone since I had stopped taking walk breaks.  My attitude began to improve as I just focused on running.  "Quitting is not an option!"  Finishing mile 5 in 9:21, and less than 49 minutes elapsed, I realized that I could run the last 1.22 miles in 11 minutes if I managed a 9 min / mile pace for the rest of the race.  The great thing about the Charles Harris Run is that the mile 5 marker is at the top of a hill, with a 100-foot drop over the next half-mile or so.  I started to accelerate, passing more runners heading downhill.  The pain was still there but wasn't any worse, so I just focused on setting a faster pace, enjoying the easiest part of the course.  At the bottom of the hill, we turned onto North Druid Hills Road, with a slight uphill. "QUITTING IS NOT AN OPTION!"  Since I wasn't winded, I ran strongly uphill, passing more and more and more people as I drew closer to the finish line.  As I reached the 6 mile marker (8:42 for mile 6, 57:30 elapsed, I could see the top of the finish line banner in the distance, and I realized that I would definitely complete the race in less than an hour.  I passed a few more runners, which encouraged them to run faster trying to stay ahead of me.  I wasn't really racing them, I just wanted a good finish for myself.  As I drew near the finish line, I could see Bonnie ahead, ready to capture my photo.  At the start of the race, I hadn't expected to celebrate at the end, but as I crossed the timing mat, I flashed a big smile and raised both hands, pleased that I had run better than I had expected. 

59:50 gun time thanks to a strong finish!

I forgot to stop my watch until I had pulled off to the side to chat with Richard and Bonnie, but I estimate that my official time was between 59:30 and 59:40.  Although my legs were sore, I didn't feel any worse for the effort.  In fact the race has improved my confidence that I may continue to recover in the week remaining before the marathon. 

With Richard after the race - mission accomplished,
paying our respects to Ben's memory.
Ben's Wizards will run the Winship Cancer Institute 5K in the fall.