This Is Why We Chose Education

Twenty years ago yesterday, Roland Ratzenberger was killed during the second qualifying session for the San Marino Grand Prix at the Imola raceway in Italy. Twenty years ago today, Ayrton Senna was killed on lap 7 of the same Grand Prix.

While Roland Ratzenberger was a relative newcomer to Formula 1, Ayrton Senna was anything but. Indeed, it is no understatement to claim that Ayrton Senna was one of the best, some argue the best, driver to ever race in Formula 1. He was three-times world champion and was renowned for his ability to turn in mythical performances in the most difficult of situations. His death sent shockwaves not just through Formula 1, but the world, particularly his home country of Brazil.

After his death, Formula 1 was never the same - from that dark weekend to the present, Formula 1 shifted its priorities from speed to safety. No longer would a car or racing circuit be optimized for speed, rather, everything would be built around safety. It is a fitting legacy that Ayrton Senna's death remains the last fatality Formula 1 has experienced.

But Ayrton's legacy is far more reaching than just improved safety. As his fame and wealth grew, Ayrton felt more and more unrest regarding the fiscal inequality found in his homeland. Two months before his death, he expressed feelings of angst being from a country where only the wealthy are given an opportunity to succeed. He wanted to do something, but was unsure of what.

Then the unimaginable happened.

As the world mourned, his family decided the only way to honor their fallen son was to address Ayrton's desire to ensure children of poor economic standing were presented opportunities to grow and nurture their talents. His sister Viviane Senna founded the Ayrton Senna Institute whose goal is to provide educational tools and approaches that can be used in the poorest sections of Brazil to offer the opportunity of education to the children there.

The rationale for this, in Viviane's own words captures the intent beautifully:

This is why we chose education, because education is the only tool discovered by mankind that is able to develop potential and turn it into something real.

Recently, Sony Computer Entertainment entered into a long-term licensing agreement with the Senna Institute. For Sony's part, it will receive permission to use Ayrton Senna's greatest achievements, cars, and likeness in their flagship motorsport game Gran Turismo 6. In return, the Senna Institute will receive handsome royalties to further fund their drive to present more and more opportunities to the poorest children of Brazil.

To commemorate this agreement as well as the 20th anniversary of Ayrton's death, Sony today published the following short film titled 'Ayrton's Wish'. It is perhaps the best memorial tribute I have viewed this week regarding Ayrton, and is highly recommended to anyone remotely interested.

The video can be found here on YouTube.

Indulging In Hyperbole

Early this morning in Augusta, Georgia, the three gentlemen pictured above opened the 2014 Masters Tournament with their honorary tee shots on Tea Olive, Augusta National's first hole. Since 1963, the opening tee shot of The Masters has been carried out by the game's living legends. Typically, I desperately attempt to avoid hyperbole such as 'living legends', but when it comes to The Masters and the three gentlemen pictured above, I find hyperbole impossible to resist.

As ludicrous as it sounds, to me the term living legend somehow seems woefully inadequate when describing both Augusta National and the grouping of Arnold Palmer, Jack Nicklaus, and Gary Player. Amongst them, they hold 13 Green Jackets and represent the very foundation of the modern-day game of golf.

The Masters often defies description as well. Not only is it the first of four Major tournaments in golf, but it is the only Major that is hosted on the same course, Augusta National, every year. As a result, the course and tournament are steeped in a unique history and tradition that serve as a ghostly yardstick by which players of today can be measured against all those who walked those fabled links before.

I find sentimental joy in pondering the unique history of Augusta National; its traditions and steadfast devotion to its history and golf course represent something quite unique. It brings me a strange comfort to know that in 40 years, we will see a similar picture to that above, but with an elderly Tiger Woods and Phil Mickelson opening The Masters.

This morning's ceremony was particularly endearing as it reminded us that this year marks the 50th anniversary of Arnold Palmer's last Masters victory. Perhaps Jack Nicklaus captured the essence of the moment perfectly however as he walked up to address his tee shot and muttered "Oh boy … if only we could do this for real again."

Therein lies why Augusta National and The Masters is so special - legends, like mere mortals, may only have a finite amount of time in this existence, but we can all rest assured that this will always go on for real again.

To see the Big Three open The Masters this morning, be sure to check out:
http://www.masters.com/en_US/videos/features.html?id=YYS08M6_B36FQABG5D69O3ERG2MJ6ING

An ACME-Certified Caper

(A little background information relevant to the story below - my wife goes by many names, but outside of her actual name, most folks use Matic.)

This past weekend Big Blue was due for an oil change. I needed to swing by the local BMW & Porsche dealership to pick up an oil filter and since I also had a BOGO entree coupon for Pei Wei, I thought I could turn this jaunt into a lunch date with my much better half. I invited Matic along, she agreed, and off we went.

The first sign of trouble upon arriving at the dealership was when Matic questioned why I did not park in the BMW lot, instead pulling around to the Porsche lot of the dealership. As I powered Blue down, I motioned with both hands for her to gaze out the windshield where parked perpendicular to Blue was a 2014 Porsche Cayman S. I tried to show her the new Cayman, but when the Porsche salesman approached and asked if there was anything he could help us with, Matic briskly asked the salesman where the parts department was.

Matic-Block #1

After picking up the oil filter, I meandered over to the BMW side of the house in hope of seeing a 4-Series in person. Matic and I were the only ones in the showroom when a BMW salesman popped out of his office asking if he could be of assistance. When I responded that I was just poking my head in to see if there was a 4-series in the showroom, Matic yet again brought her A-game.

'Oh, you want to see a 4-series, we have three outside, right this way'.

Before I could even open my mouth to respond, Matic immediately shot back 'no, *he* does not want to see a 4-series. *He* came here to buy an oil filter for *his* perfectly fine 3-series. Now that *he* has bought an oil filter, *we* are going home'.

A second, much younger salesman popped out of his office and said, 'oh, no, it won't take but a minute, the 4-series cars are right outside that door', but the first, older salesman pointing to his chest, turned to the younger salesman and said 'married', then he pointed to the young salesman's chest and said 'not married', then turned back to us and said 'when the wife says they are not looking, it means in every sense of the phrase that they are not looking. Can I at least get you a bottle of water or soda for the trip back home?’

Matic-Block #2

And thus concluded my, err I mean our trip to the automotive candy store. Lesson learned for those who have domestic partners that do not share a compatible automotive passion - perhaps the better half is best left back at the homestead when you head out to visit the wagon store.

A few moments later, while plunging my chopsticks into some Mongolian beef goodness, Matic decided to provide the meal’s entertainment with her analysis of the morning’s visit to the dealership. Her observations and deductions were as follows:

a) I do not park at the BMW side of the dealership because if I did, it is a straight shot to the parts department thereby preventing me an obvious and casual route to the Porsche showroom. Knowing this, I instead consciously park at the Porsche side of the dealership as doing so guarantees a path to the parts department that takes me through the Porsche showroom and the along the edge of the BMW showroom.

b) I buy virtually everything in my life online, this is especially true for BMW parts. Heck I even buy the oil I use in Blue online and have it delivered to our doorstep, but not the oil filter. No, for the oil filter, I drive clear across the county and buy it in a physical store. I do this because it gives me an excuse to ogle the shiny new cars that line dealership’s hallways and socialize with the purveyors of said shiny new cars.

c) If Matic were buying the oil filter, she claimed she would buy 'at least 2, but probably 3 or 4' filters to save herself the hassle of having to make a return trip to the dealership when it came time for the next oil change. I do not do this, I only buy one filter at a time. I do this because it guarantees me return trips spaced far enough apart to see fresh 'latest and greatest' offerings at the dealership.

As Matic sat across from me at lunch rattling off her observations, my eyes widened, jaw dropped, and delicious wok-fried beef fell from my grasp as I realized that I was the coyote to her roadrunner. She had pretty much seen completely through my veiled intentions and nailed precisely my true motivations and purpose. Pretty smart that Matic is, it is going to take a better plan to defeat this enemy but happily ACME has an elaborate and comprehensive catalogue to help me along the way.

Bavarian Beauties

Big Blue is now officially a generation removed from the latest and greatest offered by BMW. It has been an eventful six years of ownership, filled with the highs of memorable moments both on the street and track as well as the lows of unexpected component failures. As a whole however, Blue’s ownership experience has been sublime, she has transcended ‘just being a car’ and become a much bantered about part of my life.

With the introduction of the new 3 and 4 Series however, comparisons between the new and Blue’s generation 3-series are inevitable and are usually drawn in response to the ‘what about upgrading’ questions swirling through my mind. In truth however, this is a difficult conversation to have regarding Blue as she is a radically different vehicle than the 335i Coupe that exited the Regensburg, Germany factory in October of 2007. Her list of modifications is extensive:

BMW Performance Springs & Shocks
BMW Performance Exhaust
///M3 Control Arms & Tension Struts on Front Axle
///M3 Wishbones and Guide Rods on Rear Axle
Dinan Monoball Bushings on Front Axle Tension Struts
///M3 Rear Subframe Bushings
///M3 Front and Rear Sway Bars
Dinan Limited-Slip Differential
19x8.5” Front & 19x10” Wheels w/ Michelin Pilot Super Sport Tires
Clutch-Delay Valve Removal
Short-Travel Clutch Stop
Dinan Intercooler
Dinan Cold-Air Intake
Dinan Stage 2 ECU Programming

The end-result of all this work has produced a substantially different driving experience when compared to a stock 335i. The power modifications tend to be the ones most desirable amongst owners but I have found the suspension and drivetrain modifications, particularly replacing the stock open-differential with a proper limited-slip differential, to be the most rewarding in all driving situations. And therein lies the rub when thinking about trading Blue in on the latest and greatest - will the new car deliver an experience at least as compelling, ideally much more so, than Blue?

Traditionally, the answer to the ‘should i get the latest and greatest model’ question is an unequivocal yes as you will be getting improved components, shinier bells, and louder whistles. In the case of the new 4-Series however, I am not entirely convinced.

Let’s break down the new ///M3 and ///M4 down into a bite-sized good, bad, and ugly list:

Good
Twin-turbo 3.0L inline-6 engine rated at 425HP and 406 ft-lbs of torque
Turbos stay spooled after throttle lift-off to ensure no drop in boost when throttle is reapplied
Automatic RPM-matching on manual transmission downshifts
Lots of Carbon Fiber goodness - one-piece drive shaft, trunk-lid, strut brace, roof
Curb weight of 3,300 lbs, about the same weight as the ///M3 from two generations ago

Bad
Electric-assisted steering
Uninspiring paint choices at launch - black, white, silver, a reddish-orange, metallic yellow, and a light blue

Ugly
Illuminated ///M logos on the backrests of the front seats (sigh...thank you narcissistic facetube generation)
Exhaust note that is at best weak and at worst embarrassing (likely remedied by the aftermarket)

There is one ‘good’ that rises far above all other attributes for me - the car’s delivered curb weight of 3,300 pounds. For the first time since its inception, the newest ///M3 and ///M4 will actually be lighter than its predecessor, a welcome reversal of nearly three decades of increased bloat (granted, each generation’s weight gain was accompanied by increased power as well).

For comparison, Blue’s curb weight is 3,545 pounds, or 245 pounds heavier than the new ///M4. This weight delta is compounded when the discussion is expanded to include each car’s power. The new ///M4 will produce 425HP and 406 ft-lbs of torque compared to Blue’s Dinan-modified output of 378HP and 416 ft-lbs of torque. In total, the new ///M4 will harness around 50 more ponies while pushing 245 less pounds down the road, a respectable, though not overwhelming argument in favor of the upgrade.

My muted reaction when discussing power revolves around the fact that the new ///M3 and ///M4 will feature an engine that that is derived from BMW’s N54 and N55 engines, the former of which currently resides happily under Blue’s bonnet. There is no question that BMW has significantly modified the ///M3 and ///M4 engine, particularly in regard to the engine cooling systems, but never the less, the notion of receiving only an incrementally improved power-plant over what I currently own significantly dampens my desire to spend non-trivial sums of cash on the newer car.

As for other aspects of the car, the suspension, transmission, and differential should all equal BMW ///M’s historically legendary delivered standard. The interior appointments will no doubt air on the luxurious side, but I fear BMW will bundle options thereby requiring you to purchase a handful of non-desired options in order to secure a lone desired option.

The only serious niggle in the equation could be the car’s new electric-assist steering replacing the tried-and-true hydraulic steering. Early iterations of BMW’s electric-assist steering in other models have not been warmly received. Commonly used adjectives include ‘numb’, ‘soulless’, ‘muted’, and ‘monochrome’. During the recent whirlwind press junkets held around the world unveiling the new ///M3 and ///M4, BMW’s representatives were adamant that the electric-assist steering systems for the new ///M3 and ///M4 were purpose-built from scratch solely for these new cars. Here is a case where BMW is innocent before proven guilty, but I am cautiously skeptical as I await trusted reviewer’s impressions from the car later this year.

So, what about that question swirling about in my brain - ‘what about upgrading’. From a dollars and cents point of view the decision is strikingly easy, I am looking at something in the neighborhood of $40,000 plus Blue to get behind the wheel of the new car. And there is the rub - will the new ///M4 deliver a $40,000 improved experience over Blue? Highly Doubtful. But then again, it is dangerous to apply this type of criteria to a car’s purchase as human emotion and all the hypocritical inconsistencies that make up an emotion saturate nearly every aspect of the discussion. I am sure most BMW enthusiasts could derive a chain of logic whose final answer to the upgrade question would be a resounding and definitive ‘yes’, no matter how irrational that yes appears to outsiders. For a car enthusiast, cars are never a financially satisfying transaction, but rather should always be a long-term emotionally euphoric love affair where money is merely a means to an end.

As is usually the case, there are often many auxiliary details that while not directly related to the core decision at hand, do indirectly influence the big-picture view of the discussion:

Performance/Competition Package
BMW has already introduced this option for their ///M5 and ///M6. Though not official, I predict it is inevitable that BMW will sell a similar package as a factory option for the ///M3 and ///M4. The package will offer more aggressive throttle, transmission, suspension, and differential mappings, a boost in horsepower/torque, and of course bling-ier upsized wheels and tires. Look for this package to be offered two or so years after the car hits the market.

BMW ///M2
The 1-series is now known as the 2-series and while the M-sport 235i Coupe (yes, its real name) has a lot of ///M badges plastered all over it, it is not considered a ‘true’ ///M car. BMW scuttlebutt is ablaze with hopes, dreams, desires, and speculation that a proper ///M treatment is all but assured for the 2-Series. Look for a car that is a wee bit leaner than the ///M4 in every regard - size, weight, and power - to *possibly* come to market in 2016….ish….if ever.

Jaguar F-Type Coupe
This pretty kitty could be a game changer, but it is so new on the scene that it is too early to proclaim anything other than the fact that its appearance is borderline pornographic.

Porsche Cayman S
Ahh the Cayman, a car that I have been infatuated with since its debut in 2006. This was my #1 when I was last shopping for a car, but seating ergonomics eliminated it from contention. That was then and what is now is the second generation Cayman that is longer, roomier, and more accommodating to my 6’3” frame. This car has everything I love and one thing I loathe. It has its engine in the proper location - in the middle, not dangling behind the rear axle. It has 3 cylinders laying flat on each side of the engine. And perhaps best of all, it weighs an astounding 2,910 pounds. But then we come to the death knell - if you buy a Cayman, you are buying a car that is intentionally neutered by its manufacturer to never be as ‘good’ (in all its subjective glory) as their iconic offering - the 911.

The fact remains that a Cayman S will set you back $63,800 (minimum) yet will only deliver a lowly 325 HP and 273 ft-lbs of torque. These power numbers in and of themselves are not terrible, but when you expand the discussion to include the price-point, they become hauntingly weak. This car simply does not exist in a vacuum of choice. For some, the allure of Porsche is enough to compensate for the price discrepancy. For me, driving the damn thing has come very close, it is an excellent driving experience, but I was left wanting for more power. At this point, if Porsche would just drop the base 911 flat-6 into this car I would be satisfied, but if they dropped the 911 S engine in, I personally think they would have an automotive masterpiece for the ages on their hands.

As if the BMW Roundel was not smug enough

When configuring a new BMW these days, one is now presented with two options:
Option One - choose from a pre-determined 'Line' such as 'Luxury', or 'Sport', or 'Performance', and all the associated options that make the car your chosen 'Line' are bundled in.

Option Two - start with a base car and add options in an a la carte manner until satisfied (well as al a carte as possible considering BMW, like many other manufacturers, now bundle options into 'packages').

Personally, I am an Option Two kinda bloke, but if you happen to be in the Option One camp, BMW's Marketing legion has a little present for you. They believe so earnestly in their 'Lines' that they now apply a shiny badge proclaiming to the world just how awesome your chosen configuration is:

The above image is from Jalopnik's impressions of the new 4-series convertible:
http://jalopnik.com/the-2014-bmw-4-series-convertible-is-great-but-im-not-1505939670

And to think, I doubted BMW could make a worse design element than a chromed trim piece outlining a front quarter panel vent; silly me. Thank the stars above there is plenty of dental floss in this world to correct the smug sins of some rogue marketing group in Munich...

The Quest for 10 Miles

“COME ON JOHN, YOU CAN DO THIS. COME ON!!!”

“Why is this woman screaming at me? How does she know my name? Damn I am tired, it is so f@$king hot out here. Why did I sign up for this run? My stomach is just not right, hasn’t been since the start; good lord it feels like a gurgling cauldron of molten lava in there. Okay, none of that matters, she is right, we are close now, the worst is over, it is gravy from here on out, lets go.”

It was a little before midnight on a September Saturday in 2012 and at that moment I found myself on Victory Way outside ESPN’s Wide World of Sports at the Walt Disney World Resort in Orlando.

My destination lay three miles ahead, make a left onto Osceola Boulevard then around and into Disney’s Hollywood Studios theme park and I would be done. Behind me trailed seven miles of meandering path that had taken me from the parking lot of the Hollywood Studios park, to Animal Kingdom, then into and around the ESPN complex.

In the months leading up to this run, I had memorized the course map, meticulously clicking through the majority of the course using Google’s Street View service. I knew exactly where I was, where I had been, and where I had to go. I also knew that the finish to this run would be sensational as it wove through the Hollywood Studios park; it was the payoff to what was essentially numerous lonesome miles of running on an interstate grade road in the middle of nowhere under the cover of darkness.  

By the time the woman jumped out and screamed encouragement, I had been running for around 80 minutes. I was sensationally miserable at that moment, completely drenched in sweat, my shoes squirting streams of liquid with each foot strike as I had completely soaked my socks with sweat.

I had never sweated to this degree during my nine months of training leading up to this night. Three of those months included Florida’s dreaded June, July, and August too. Then again, I also had never run in the middle of the state, on a near windless night that concluded a day where the course’s asphalt absorbed an unadulterated day of sunlight through scattered clouds, temperatures in the mid-90s, and 85% humidity.

The heat took its toll - of the approximately 12,000 runners that started the run, only a hair over 8,000 crossed the finish line. I personally witnessed many collapse from the heat, not to mention far more uncontrolled bodily functions from fellow runners than I care to recall. Disney had done a fantastic job preparing however as a small army of paramedics roamed the course on mountain bikes and what seemed to be hundreds of their fancy buses, normally used to shuttle people to and from their cruise ship terminal, were re-purposed that night along the course as ‘cool down’ areas with their generators and air conditioners running flat out.

You never know when or where inspiration will present itself and for me this was particularly true when this random woman, who was a spectator, not a runner, decided to motivate me. Minutes earlier, I had broken from my running stride and began to walk. This was no normal walking form however, no I am sure it was the picture of pathetic - slumped over, arms dangling, head dejectedly dropped, eyes barely open; the embodiment of lollygagging.

Her excitement and volume smashed through the haze and ushered in a wave of clarity. Instantly, once fuzzy imagery and muted sounds suddenly became clear as my eyes and ears refocused. I looked up and made direct eye contact with this woman - black hair, red shirt, khaki shorts, flipflops. She was pumping both her fists shoulder-high as she walked alongside me.

“One foot in front of the other, that’s it, brick by brick, keep going, just keep going.” As I resumed a jogging stride, her excited “YES!” reverberated through me and a smile returned to my face. I trundled on and began to chuckle as I realized she knew my name as it was printed in giant block letters on my race bib. As I peeled off into the night, I could hear her turn her attention to those behind me as she continued her motivational work.

Motivation continued to find me as I came upon a young couple running together as we turned onto Osceola Boulevard. I was 5 or so yards behind them and could clearly see that the male was struggling just as I was. His female companion, who happened to be running in fairy wings, was trying her best to keep him moving and in turn, without ever knowing, helping me to keep moving.

“Okay, this is good, lets just get to that sign up there, we can do that”

“Awesome, we made it! Okay, what about that tree up there, we can make it to that tree”

“Oh yeah, this is great, almost at the turn-in to the park, come on, just a little bit more”

Ms. Fairy Wings will never realize how much overhearing her words, motivations that were never intended for me, had in fact helped me.

As we turned into Hollywood Studios, I knew only a little over one mile was left to run. I had long resolved and trained to make this final mile my strongest mile of the run. Consciously, I murmured a resolved “yup” to myself and began to increase my pace. A mere fifty yards later, I was in agony - my body hurt, my lungs burned, my stomach was churning, my mind was a maelstrom of negativity. My training told me that I could possibly feel this way fifty yards from the finish line, but holy hell, not fifty yards from the *start* of my final magical mile for the ages!

Nine months earlier, fresh off an inspirational trip to Walt Disney World’s Marathon Weekend, I decided to adopt running into my daily life. From my earliest days in running, to the present day, a theme has continually repeated itself time and again - for me, running is far more an exercise in mental discipline than physical discipline. In fact, I continue to be amazed at just how much power my mental state has over my running state. I certainly do not discredit the physical aspect of running, there clearly is a profound physical aspect to running, but for me, the mental aspect of running has been far more powerful and far more dangerous to cope with.

Time and again, the powerful and deflating nature of the mind has reared its head in my workouts. On any given day, I could be bee bopping along quite happily only to be completely undermined by a rogue negative thought, ranging from legitimate to completely irrational, that invariably initiates a run-destroying chain reaction of contradiction, bitterness, and self-loathing.

“Jesus, my lungs are burning”

“Oh man, my feet hurt”

“My lower back is super tight”

“One mile down, six to go”

“Why are the squirrels constantly darting around”

“F@$k the sun is bright today”

“Damn, I hate running in darkness”

“Screw you wind, I hate you”

“I can’t run when there is no breeze”

There I was, less than a mile to go, a mile that was going to symbolically represent the one thousand and fifty two total miles that I had run, in good weather and in bad, from sweltering heat to frost-covered grass, in the pouring rain and through ridiculous humidity, and I was allowing negative thoughts to compromise my last mile.

Shouting at myself over and over in my mind, I broke from running and began to walk again.

“SHUT THE HELL UP JOHN. STOP THINKING. COME ON MAN, GET IT TOGETHER”

I was berating myself, audibly telling myself to suck it up and finish this run. And that is when I resorted to a trick; a trick I have long used and learned when dealing with migraine pain - I told myself to mentally zone out, focus, and picture a white sheet of paper.

What does that sheet of paper look like?

“It is white”

Good, describe the white

“Well it is a bright white but it has fibers that are off-white perhaps even a very subtle, muted grey”

What do the fibers look like?

“They are somewhat thick, but not overly distinctive”

Do they run vertically or horizontally?

“Neither, there are no distinctive patterns in the fibers, it is more random”

Can you rip the paper?

“Yes”

What does it sound like when you rip the paper?

Little by little, step by step, thinking about that white sheet of paper, my body resumed its running stride. I was completely immersed in that sheet of paper, so much so that I do not recall running through the Stunt Spectacular stage, nor the Streets of America decorated with Christmas lights, or past the Sorcerer's Apprentice Hat in the center of the park.

It was Toy Story Mania that snapped me from the hypnotic trance of white paper. My first distinct memory was seeing the Standby Wait Time sign for the ride reading only 10 minutes and laughing to myself that I have never seen that low of a number displayed on that sign before.

A right-hand turn after Toy Story Mania took us to the park’s Back Lot Tour area. This section would be one long straight run, making a beeline towards the soundstage that houses the Aerosmith Rockn’ Roller Coaster attraction. At the Aerosmith soundstage, a final right-hand turn would yield the finish line, not more than a mere 20 yards after the turn. As I passed through the backlot, I could see the Aerosmith building, that building was my new white sheet of paper, its appearance consumed me and it is all I could focus on.

A smile crept across my face as I neared the final turn. The run was over, one last turn.

“I wonder what the finish line will look like?”

I streaked through the turn, gazing at the ground to ensure proper footing through the turn, then, lifting my head, I could feel the smile growing on my face as my arms began to rise in the obligatory finish line double fist pump, but there was a problem, a very big problem…

“Where the hell is the finish line? There is no damn finish line….oh effing hell, you have got to be kidding me...”

On the ground just after that fateful turn there was a course-wide strip of yellow plastic/rubber flooring. Stationed on either side of this flooring were multiple Disney Cast Members shouting at runners - “Just two-tenths of a mile left, the finish line is just ahead!”

“OH HELL NO!” I shouted, to which a Cast Member retorted “just two-tenths, it’s right there!”

In truth, the finish line was not ‘right there’, in fact, to my delusional, salt-crusted eyes the finish line appeared to be a spec on the distant horizon. I even remember breaking my stride and injecting a pseudo-giddyup style kick and for a split second conceded to walking that final two-tenths, but when my feet touched the ground after the giddyup, something clicked in my brain and I resumed my running stride.

As I finally crossed the finish line, I could hear the announcer read my name but was immediately distracted by a strange woman draping her arms over my shoulders from behind. I gazed over and had no clue who this woman hugging me was, but as she lifted her head from the back of my shoulders, she thanked me. She told me she had been pacing me since the Stunt Spectacular area, trailing just off my right side, and saw my giddyup step after the final turn. “I thought you were going to just walk the rest of the way and if you had, I would have too, but you kept running, thank you.”

“Congratulations, great job, the heat was killer tonight” was all I could muster in return, but I did feel enormously happy that I had in some small measure returned part of the motivational goodwill that I had been fortunate to receive throughout the night.

To date, runDisney’s 2012 Tower of Terror 10 Miler is the only official organized run I have participated in. Running’s place in my life however was firmly cemented and has been part of my day to day life since I began training for that run. While I did enjoy the spectacle of the actual event, if I am honest with you, it was the journey to that run that filled me with happiness and satisfaction - it was a long, faithful, personal expression of dedication and sacrifice towards a long-term, never-reachable goal. In reality, there is always one more mile to go, be it today, tomorrow, or just over the horizon.

This past weekend, I was back at Disney during the 2014 Marathon weekend and had the luxury of a hotel room that featured a balcony with the marathon’s course directly below. By the time the runners reached the area of our hotel room, they had cleared a little over 24 miles of the 26.2 mile distance. I sat on our balcony for a good amount of time watching runners stream past and occasionally found tears welling up in my eyes. It was not the notion of these runners nearing the end of a run that stirred emotion in me, no it was the thought of just how many miles, over the days, weeks, months, years, and decades leading up to this one day, that moved me. It takes genuine respect, love, and perseverance for the activity to devote so much time and energy towards its pursuit. I for one find that the most beautiful aspect of running - the daily journey to everywhere, yet no place in particular, racing towards a finish line that is always, yet never, reached.