Weekend in St. Pete

Well, what would YOU do? Here were my choices. Stay at home, alone, in Chicago, in November, or go with Jenny to St. Petersburg, Florida where she was working at the Women's Half Marathon.

I chose to take a busman's holiday. For those of you who DON'T know what that means,  a busman's holiday is a holiday or vacation in which one does as recreation what one usually does as one's work. So, for me, going to a race on my HOLIDAY is an awful lot like what I do for a living.

And am I glad I did. First off, not having any real responsibilities meant that I could run when I wanted, and how far I wanted. The result was that I got in a 3 mile walk on Thursday, a 7 mile run on Friday, a 3 mile run on Saturday, and a 4 mile run on Monday. Every run was along the Tampa Bay filled with pelicans and cranes and boats and blue sky and ocean breezes. It was FANTASTIC.

The plan was to do the long run on Friday and back that up with a "tempo" run on Saturday. I just got one of the new Garmin 310XT GPS units and was eager to play - err - use it. It was perfect. I was able to see the pace so I could run slow enough on Friday and FAST enough on Saturday. I really don't know how I managed to run without the 310XT. It does EVERYTHING I need a wrist unit to do; mileage, time, distance, pace, average pace, intervals. It's perfect.

Because the race benefited the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society, I stopped by the inspiration dinner for a bit to give folks a few "penguin" tips. At least they got a good laugh out of it.

I did hang around the start/finish line on Sunday. Jenny was running the race so it made sense to head on down and see how things were going. A quick congratulations to Dawna Stone and her crew for putting on a very nice event.

So it ended up being a great holiday weekend.

Piaggio MP3 update: It's all set and ready to go. I am waiting for the first snowflake to fall so that I can get out and ride in real winter conditions for the first time EVER.

Snow Thrower, Leaf Blower, and a Three-Wheeled Scooter

Those of you who are old enough to remember Johnny Carson on the Tonight Show will remember the Carnac bit that he used to do. For you youngsters, Ed McMahon would read "answers" and Carnac [Johnny] would come up with the question. It was often quite funny.

Well, if the answer had been; "A snow thrower, a leaf blower, and a three-wheeled scooter", my question would have been: "Name three things that I never thought would be in my garage." And yet, they are.

Garages are sacred places to gear heads. They are the cathedrals in which we keep the icons of our beliefs. They are not simply places to park our cars at night. They are not the final resting place for no-longer-used sporting equipment. And they are certainly not place where all the fun things with motors are shoved into a corner to make room for large bags of Scott's Weed and Feed.

A two-car garage is a place where, maybe, you keep one car. Well, one car that you drive on a regular basis. It's a place where you keep things like tools and battery chargers and extra oil and a can of gas. It's a place where you make room for everything in your life that has an engine.

In the course of my life I've had many garages from a tiny dirt-floored building with no door to an oversized building built initially to keep snowmobiles. I've filled those buildings with the motorized objects of my affection. I've had motorcycles in every state of repair or disrepair. I've had complete bikes and pieces-parts of bikes. I've had bikes that ran and bikes that would never run again. That's what makes a garage such a special place.

Now my garage contains not only my toys but the implements of my life. We've been in the house nearly a year so we're seen 4 seasons. Each season has required new equipment. Each season has meant finding a place for the equipment required for home ownership among the motorcycles.

There's also a new kid in the garage, the Piaggio MP3. As the leaves fall and the seasons change the garage shuffle begins. Like an elaborate Rubik's Cube everything has to be in it's place. The big bikes are moved to the front of the garage, safe for the winter. The lawn mower goes along the wall, run dry of fuel.

But the Piaggio stays near the back ready to be ridden. For the first time in my life I'm actually hoping that we get an early snow. I am convinced that the MP3 is going to extend my riding season.

And if it can do that it will earn a place of honor in my garage.

Waddle on,

Long Runs and Sunday Rides

Sunday rides are, for motorcyclists, what the weekend long runs are for runners. They are both at once deeply personal and wildly social. They are both opportunities for quiet self reflection and rousing interaction. Having come to motorcycling as a young person but only come to running in my mid-life I have a lot more years of Sunday rides under my belt than long runs. But I understand and appreciate them both.

The traditional Sunday ride, for me, is a breakfast ride. The schedule was nearly always the same; get up, have a cup of coffee in the house while getting dressed to ride, have a second cup of coffee in the garage while getting the bike ready to go, ride for an hour or so to a favorite restaurant for a breakfast of pancakes and eggs, and then ride for the rest of the day. Over the years I've done Sunday rides alone or with a good friend. Rarely I would open the Sunday ride up to a small group.

This past Sunday was a bit different. Jenny had a kick-off for her CES Winter Warriors program and I needed to visit my mom, so breakfast was out of the question. Our Sunday ride would have to be sneaking a couple of hours off in the afternoon and getting out. It wasn't exactly a classic Sunday ride, but it was better than nothing.

Adding to the pressure of getting out is the fact that it was November 1. The perfect summer days are long behind us. Even the beautiful fall days of translucent trees are gone. Here in the mid-west we have moved into a pre-winter state of mind. I'm running in tights and a jacket most days. So, even if I couldn't get out for an all-day Sunday ride, I was going to fire up the Piaggio MP3 get out.

And I wasn't alone. It seemed like every motorcyclist in our area was out for a ride. Actually, by the time Jenny and I got out it seemed like every motorcyclist in our area was already finished with their ride. At every small restaurant and bar there were motorcycles out front. We got invited in to sit around and talk about the MP3 which I would have been happy to do most other times. But Sunday, I didn't want to talk. I wanted to ride. So that's exactly what we did. With what little time we had we covered as many miles as we could.

Pulling back into the garage I had the same feeling as I have at the end of a long run. I'm glad that I was able to do it, but sad that it's over. With my schedule, being at events so many weekends, I'm not sure how many more Sundays I'll have before I have to pack the bikes up for the winter. But, trust me, if the temperature is above freezing, I'll be hitting the road.

All In the Family

I mentioned earlier that the first motorized vehicle I ever operated, at 12 years-old, was a Sears Moped. From there I graduated to a Cushman Eagle, then a Honda 65 [which I crashed] and a 90cc Suzuki Step-Through, which I rented for a day [I was 16 at the time]. The first bike I owned was a Honda 305 Scrambler. Since then I've owned over 50 motorcycles and having worked at a motorcycle dealership for 10 years, probably ridden 1,000. It's safe to say that I've thrown a leg over nearly every imaginable configuration from old Harley Police trikes to full-on Choppers, to sport bikes, road bikes, dirt bikes, and cruisers. I love to ride. And I don't much care what it is that I'm riding.

Riding the Piaggio MP3 has been an education in both the tightness of the motorcycling/scootering communities and the wideness of the gap between the various elements of that same community. At some level I suppose I knew that, but riding the MP3 has really put it under a bright light.

Anyone who has ever ridden knows about the "Rider Wave". As long as I've ridden I've always made it a point to wave at other cyclist, irrespective of brand or style of bike. My wave was a raised left hand. At some point the wave became something like a "Low Five". I think it started with the Harley riders but has become pretty much universal.

So now I give the low wave to everyone. But not everyone waves back. And depending on what I'm riding I can almost predict who will wave. If I'm on my BMW R1150R, a big "naked" road bike, nearly everyone waves back. Even the Harley and Gold Wing riders give a - sometimes begrudging - wave.

If I'm riding the GS, with the high front fender and off-road look, then I'll nearly never get a wave from the Harley or Sport Bike riders. It's just too big a gap. If I'm on the BMW650CS, a somewhat odd looking street bike, only the BMW riders wave.

If I'm on the Piaggio MP3, though, I get near universal acknowledgment. I didn't expect that. I thought there'd be a sort of elitist attitude among the two-wheelers. Quite the contrary. Big Bike riders, sport bike guys in tight leather outfits, cruisers folks with fringe leather jackets, and the BMW crowd in their Aerostich Darien jackets wave. And they smile.

That's, maybe, the greatest part of riding the MP3. It makes me, and everyone I encounter, smile. What's better than that??

Frost on the Pumpkin

WOW. What happened to Summer? Heck, what happened to FALL? It feels a lot like Winter outside. Like the lyrics from the classic Guess Who song: Seasons change and so did I. You need not wonder why. So it's time to start thinking about running and riding into the new season.

I've ridden in some of the harshest conditions on the planet. I've been to Antarctica 6 times, 5 times as a part of the Race Operations Staff with Thom Gilligan's Antarctica Marathon and Half Marathon. Riding in the cold is nothing new. The truth is, if you're well prepared, riding - and running - when most people have decided to hibernate is both invigorating and satisfying. Knowing that you continue to push the envelop, to find that part of yourself that is willing and able to take on the extreme challenge, is a great feeling.

In Antarctica, on King George Island where the race is held, it isn't so often the cold as it is the wind. It's not that it's never cold, one year the temperature dropped 20 degrees fahrenheit in 10 minutes up on the Collin's Glacier, but generally it's the wildly unpredictable wind that creates the greatest challenge.

The key, and the aspect of  riding in the cold that many people miss, is that you can't get warm, you have to STAY warm. You've got to be prepared for whatever the temperature does and whichever way the weather goes. Once you GET cold, there's very little you can do to get warm.

In some ways it's the opposite with running. If you start your run warm you'll end your run STEAMY. Those first few steps should make you wonder what you're doing outside. By the time you get a mile behind you chances are you'll be warm and toasty.

Whether it's running or riding the key is having the right equipment. Over the years I've purchased thousands of dollars of riding gear that was, at the time, state of the art. 40 years ago, unfortunately, the state of the art cold weather gear was a newspaper stuffed in your jacket and your feet wrapped in plastic bags. Things have changed.

These days I've got a Gerbing electronic jacket liner, compete with an adjustable rheostat. One of the first things I did when I got the Piaggio MP3 was to install the battery connection for the Gerbing. I've also got an Aerostich Darien Goretex suit, lined gauntlet gloves, and waterproof boots. As long as the temperature is above freezing, I'll be riding.

With a good technical base layer, a pair of tights, and a good wind/water resistant jacket, hat and gloves, there's almost no lower temperature limit for running outdoors. I've run with Jenny when her ponytail has frozen! It's neat.

This is the week to make the change. There will be warm days again this season, but not hot days. For riding and running, this is the transition week. I'm looking forward to it.

Don't Ask For Ketchup

One of the best kept secrets in the running industry is that I have a doctorate and that I was a university administrator and professor before the "penguin" took over my life. My column, "The Penguin Chronicles" was replacing Dr. George Sheehan's in Runner's World and they didn't want to use Dr. John Bingham, so "the Penguin" was born.

I mention this because I used to teach a music history course and we talked about how all music is culturally specific. The reason that the music you listen to sounds better to you than the music I listen to is because we both listen to the music of our culture. As specific as music is to the culture, food is even more specific. Enter Gene and Jude's.

Gene and Jude's is a tiny hot-dog stand/building in River Grove, Illinois. It's been in the same location for 60 years and - with the exception of adding a double-dog - has served the same menu for all those years. You can get hot dogs, corn tamales, fresh cut french fries, and a drink. Period. And on the hot dogs you can get yellow mustard, chopped fresh onion, pickle relish, and sport peppers. That's it.

I ate there with my grandfather and father. I've taken my son there since he was old enough to eat solid food. And this summer we took my grandchildren there. 5 generations of Binghams have eaten at Gene and Jude's. And not one of them has EVER asked for ketchup. It's just not done.

What's any of this got to do with running, or scootering, or life? Maybe not much, but it seems ro me that we all live inside of a specific culture and one of the most difficult things to do is to break out of that culture and change your life, even if you know it's what's best for you.

When I first started running my family thought I was crazy. When I wouldn't overeat at every meal they thought that I was turning my nose up at our culture.

As a motorcyclist for over 40 years I'm finding that as much as I would like to I don't understand the scooter culture. I love to ride. I love to be riding. What I'm riding isn't nearly as important to me as THAT I'm riding. My love of riding transcends my love of any particular form of riding.

So, just like when I started running, my foray into the scootering culture hasn't been met with universal acceptance. I don't get the "wave" from fellow motorcyclists. I don't get the nod from the "cool" guys. I don't get the "look" from kids in the backseat. And that's a shame.

The MP3 has become my "go to" ride because it is everything I want a motorcycle to be. It's fun, it's fast, it demands very little and delivers a lot. And for me, that's what matters most.

The Road Not Taken

Robert Frost wrote: 
Two roads diverge in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth; Text 

It's always been a favorite of mine because I think it describes a way of life that I've at least aspired to. Now that I've turned 60 and recognized that I've traveled a lot more roads than I have left to travel the choices seem more and more important.

As a runner I've often been criticized because I don't feel the need to hurry through races. My philosophy is that the reason I train is so that I can be out on the race courses. Why, once I'm there, would I try to get through the experience as quickly as I can? It seems backwards. If you want to run fast, do that at home. If you travel to an event, take your time. 

Those same people probably would have criticized my old Army Band and fellow motorcycle traveler, Larry, and I for our approach to motorcycle touring. As I wrote in a recent column, we often had a a destination in mind, and had an itinerary marked clearly on a map, but we rarely followed the map and almost never got to where we were headed.

My fondest memories is of Larry and I relaxing in a field somewhere looking up at the clouds and saying "The is my kind of touring"

Over the years that changed some. As I started riding bigger bikes, as my destinations got farther and farther away, as I saw more of what I wanted to see I lost some of my core principles. I lost sight of the truth that it doesn't matter where I want to be, it's where I am is what's important.

The Piaggio MP3 400 has helped me remember why it was that I started riding in the first place. It's helped me remember that that act of riding is it's own reward. It has help me rediscover the joy of exploring the world closest to me. It's been a renaissance of riding. 

Jenny and I both have BMW R1150Rs. We rode 1,000 miles in 22 hours on those bike. We rode all the way around Lake Michigan in a single day. Why? Because we could.

I won't be doing that on the Piaggio MP3 400, although I think I could. I won't because there's no need to do that to enjoy the scooter. I'll be doing what I'm doing now, hopping on and riding because it just feels good.

People who know me understand that it's exactly what I do when I run. And when the roads of my life diverged, as the traveler in Frost's poem, "I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference."


Waddle on,