50/50 (6 page)
Little Rock Marathon
Little Rock, Arkansas
Elevation: 260'
Weather: 81 degrees; sunny and dry
Time: 4:14:38
Net calories burned: 12,748
Number of runners: 10
B
y the time we arrived
in Little Rock, Arkansas, the site of our fourth marathon, dawn was fast approaching. Entering my hotel room only ninety minutes before I had to leave it again, I was faced with a simple choice: I could either catch a quick power nap or make some efforts to restore my personal hygiene, which was in a sorry state. There wasn’t enough time to do both. I chose to nap.
Upon waking, I had just enough time to quickly glance at my face in the bathroom mirror before dashing out the door. What I saw wasn’t pretty. I looked like the creature from the Black Lagoon. Maybe worse. Thick, dark stubble covered my chin, and hair was flying in every which direction. Oh, well. The North Face Endurance 50 wasn’t a beauty pageant, after all.
Fortunately, Hopps had told me that today would be mellow. The marketing folks at The North Face hadn’t been able to drum up much media interest, and only nine runners had signed up to traverse the Little Rock Marathon racecourse alongside me. I couldn’t have been happier. We needed a recovery day.
Sitting in a reflective trance as Koop drove the SAG wagon toward the downtown starting area, I relished a brief moment of peace. Very brief.
“What the #?%*!” Garrett suddenly exclaimed, jarring me back to reality.
The rest of us looked at him and then followed his gaze out the front window. Parked along one side of Capitol Avenue was a long column of television vans with satellite dishes perched on top. An intimidating procession of glossy black Suburbans encircled the starting area. Men wearing dark suits and dark glasses stood on each corner, slowly turning their heads from side to side like lawn sprinklers. A large crowd of people was gathered inside the circle of government vehicles, and the sidewalks were lined with passersby attracted by—and adding to—the hullabaloo.
I turned to Hopps, Garrett, and Koop, and asked, “Did anybody else not brush his teeth this morning?”
What we did not know, but would soon discover, was that the governor of Arkansas, Mike Huckabee, was waiting for us at the starting line, wearing running gear, no less.
Thanks to the many logos covering the vehicle, the SAG wagon was easily spotted by the sea of reporters, who immediately surrounded the car. Still cameras clicked, television cameras rolled, and microphones jostled for position in front of me as reporters shot rapid-fire questions in my direction.
A man dressed in running clothes now stepped forward, politely parting the huddle of reporters, and shook my hand.
“Hi, Dean,” he said. “I’m Mike Huckabee. Glad to meet you.” His calm, reassuring demeanor immediately put me at ease. He asked me how I was feeling after running three marathons in three days—surprising me with his intimate knowledge of the Endurance 50 agenda—and informed me with unfeigned disappointment that he only had time to run six or seven miles with the group this morning. He then gave the press a chance to ask each of us a few questions and snap photos of us shaking hands. It was an interesting way to warm up for a marathon.
Alexandria and Nicholas officially started the marathon by shouting, “On your mark. Get set. Go!” Amid flashing lights and wailing sirens, our small group shuffled down Capitol Avenue, flanked by a squadron of police escorts and Secret Service agents.
As natural as he now seemed gliding along next to me, Governor Huckabee—turned presidential hopeful Mike Huckabee as I write this—hadn’t always been a runner. In fact, he used to be 110 pounds heavier. During his first years in office, simply climbing the steps of the Capitol Building left him out of breath and sweating profusely. He secretly feared that he would be interviewed by the media at the top of the steps, and that he would be unable to respond appropriately due to his lack of breath. In 2003, his physician diagnosed the governor with adult-onset diabetes, informing him that he would not live more than ten years if he did not lose weight.
That was four marathons ago.
Mike Huckabee is living proof of the unique power of running to cure the most insidious health conditions afflicting our society today: obesity, heart disease, and a host of other weight-related maladies, including adult-onset diabetes. But while he may be the most prominent example of what I jokingly call “the amazing miracle marathon diet” at work, there are countless more examples among everyday folks. In fact, as I listened to Governor Huckabee recount his experience—not the least bit out of breath despite the fact that he was running nine-minute miles as he talked—I was reminded that I had already met several Endurance 50 participants, most of them men, who had lost large amounts of weight on the amazing miracle marathon diet.
Ease Into It
While running is one of the best means to lose weight, it’s important that you ease into it if you’re currently overweight and new to this form of exercise. Running puts a lot of stress on the lower extremities. If you don’t give your bones and joints a chance to adapt, you could get injured. Start by walking. Once a brisk walk has become fairly easy, insert brief segments of slow running into your walks (preferably on dirt or grass). Gradually increase the duration of these running segments until you’re able to comfortably run the full distance of your workout. Here’s a sample four-week progression:
The Dean’s List
Here are some of my current favorite quick race fuels that’ll surely give you a lift:
• Clif Shot Bloks
• Sports Beans Energizing Jelly Beans
• Ginger People Ginger Chews
• Peet’s Coffee Chocolate Covered Espresso Beans
• Sharkies Organic Energy Fruit Chews
There’s something about the goal of finishing a marathon, or even a half-marathon or 10k, that enables an individual to establish exercise as a daily habit and shed excess weight. Strangely enough, those who start running with no other goal than to lose weight often do not have the same level of success. For whatever reason, people find more motivation in looking months ahead to the dream of completing an event—which, for most, will be the hardest physical challenge they have ever faced—than they find in simply trying to run three or four miles a day to lose some fat.
Intrigued by the governor, I peppered him with questions as we ran. The other runners—most of them citizens of Arkansas—also seemed content to let Huckabee do most of the talking. I was particularly interested in hearing about his state’s widely celebrated recent initiative aimed at addressing childhood obesity by removing soda and unhealthy snacks from school vending machines, improving the nutritional value of school lunches, and so forth.
“Is it working?” I asked.
“The most recent data we have shows that childhood obesity levels in Arkansas have started to level off, after climbing for years,” he said. “It’s a start, but we have a long way to go.”
“That’s encouraging,” I said. Mike Huckabee and I share a cause. My Karno’s Kids foundation attacks the same problem his administration has chosen as a top priority by promoting physical activity and a good diet. Our mission is to inspire and motivate kids to get outside and become physically active. In fact, our official motto is “No Child Left Inside.” So the next words out of Huckabee’s mouth were heartening.
QUICK TAKE:
If you’re looking to shed a few pounds, try eating more protein in the morning. Studies show that consuming protein in the
AM
helps control appetite, preserve muscle, and increase fat loss.
“You know, Dean, we can’t legislate this country back into shape,” he said. “Mandating better school nutrition and stuff like that is a step in the right direction, but the key to truly solving the problem is efforts like yours.”
“Really?” I said reflexively.
“We need role models to inspire others,” he said. “That’s what motivates people to change their lifestyle. Kids have to want that for themselves. No law can make a kid want to eat right and exercise. But you do it every day by setting an example.”
I was so gratified by the governor’s compliment, I didn’t think to mention that he had become a pretty good role model himself. In fact, he was currently training for his fifth marathon—the New York City Marathon—which happened to be the final stop of the Endurance 50.
Before he peeled away from the group to take care of the day’s gubernatorial business, Huckabee gave me a valuable piece of advice. He had asked me what the hardest part of the Endurance 50 had been so far.
“Honestly, it’s dealing with the media,” I said. “I like running all night by myself; dealing with the press doesn’t come naturally to me.”
“Listen,” he said. “I know the press can sometimes be a distraction, but don’t think of it that way. Think of the media as a very powerful tool that you can leverage to help change the world in the ways I know you want to change it.”
He was right. I made a silent vow to do my best to be more comfortable with the press from that day forward.
“I’ll see you in the Big Apple” were Governor Mike Huckabee’s last words to me.
“You’ve got a deal,” I said, feeling that the New York City Marathon was still a lifetime away.
We were approaching the seven-mile mark when Huckabee left us, along with his security detail. The nine remaining runners now got the opportunity to share their stories. I learned that one of the two women in our group was a member of Huckabee’s staff. She had been so modest that I had no clue she knew him. Another runner told me he was a physician; this was his first marathon. He had left the emergency room at one o’clock this morning and driven through the night to get here. By the time we passed the halfway mark, he was already struggling.
“I’ll make it,” he said, “but I can’t keep up with you guys.” He gently faded behind us with a few of the other runners.
The rest of the group held together impressively. We crossed the finish line shortly after noon, by which time it had turned into one of those glorious afternoons when summer blends with a hint of fall. It was warm and dry with a gentle breeze and soft sunlight that was unobstructed except by a few wispy clouds.
The Finish Festival, which had been set up smack in front of the Capitol Building, was our best yet. Alexandria and Nicholas ran about and played excitedly with the crew. Six or seven members of the governor’s task force on childhood obesity were present and eagerly chatted with my kids, whom they seemed to view as models for the children of Arkansas. Nicholas asked them whether they had any soda pop or candy. Even at eight years old, he had a quick wit and mischievous sense of humor.
During the short ceremony that we performed daily during the Finish Festival on the little stage that traveled with us, a representative of the governor’s office presented my dad and me and with large framed certificates. She explained that they were decrees appointing us as Arkansas Travelers, or official ambassadors of the state. My dad asked if this meant we got a key to the city. He hoped so, because he’d heard there were some legendary rib joints nearby.
Follow the Losers
According to research data, these are the top three habits of men and women who lose significant amounts of weight and keep it off permanently:
1. Daily exercise
2. Portion control
3. Behavior modification
The crew put off dismantling the Finish Festival as long as they could, because none of us wanted this perfect afternoon to end. The sun was sinking toward the horizon when the last of the gear was being stowed back in the bus. Then our first-time marathoner, the physician who had driven all night, came into view, lumbering toward the finish line. I had just enough time to dash over and congratulate him before we drove away. It was the perfect finish to the perfect day. Little did I know what lay in store for tomorrow.
Day 5
September 21, 2006
Wichita Marathon
Wichita, Kansas
Elevation: 1,544'
Weather: 62 degrees; gale-force winds and driving rain
Time: 4:23:18
Net calories burned: 15,935
Number of runners: 22
During our long drive from Little Rock, Arkansas, to Wichita, Kansas, we heard that a major storm was in the forecast for our twenty-two-person re-creation of the Wichita Marathon the next morning. Sure enough, dawn brought rain, and wind—a Kansas specialty. By mile fourteen, a raging storm was upon us. The rain came down sideways, pelting our bodies and stinging our faces as it hit. To avoid being blinded by bullet-like liquid projectiles, we ran with our heads down, tracking off the lines in the road to keep our bearings.
The wind whipped across the open expanse of Kansas prairie land, making forward progress almost impossible for us when we ran into it and nearly blowing us off the road when we changed direction and exposed our flank to a crosswind. Pebbles from the roadway were lifted into the air and driven into our legs and lower bodies like pellets from an air gun.
