Heusden to Houston

A few years back, I mentioned to a college team mate that I was running a 5k in Heusden. It was July at the time. “Houston? Hopefully it won’t be too hot there.” Oh no, sorry, I said. Not Houston, Heusden - a little suburban town in Belgium. Heusden is to Brussels as New Jersey is to New York City. The nicer parts of Jersey, that is. And most Belgians don’t really commute. They ride bikes and walk places.

The summer European racing experience has been much doted upon in the blogs and Instagrams of many an American distance runner, myself included. Memories of riding a fart tube across the pond and trickling down through Ireland and over to Belgium from track race to track race each summer will always hold a beloved place in my heart.

Exploring the walls of Luxembourg, scarfing down the homey hospitality of Irish meet committees, climbing on castles, rolling ankles on cobblestones - this is what it’s meant to be a runner on the European ‘B’ track circuit. So far, my years as a professional runner have culminated in the annual July trip to Europe.

Heusden. The KBC Nacht Athletics Meeting held there every July is a must do if you’re a member of the extremely specific blood type American-middle-distance-runner-looking-to-make-it. It’s the meet a lot of people run fast at, but no one back home has really ever heard of. 

2013. It was my first year running Heusden (The statute of limitations is up on this war story). On a warm Belgian evening, the pacer for the ‘B’ heat of the 5,000m dropped out 3,000 meters into the race, leaving our nationally diverse pack of straining runners to propel each other to time standard glory on our lonesome own. Planters of carnations flicked by our feet on the infield. Avicii or something similar played from the press box. A kid dropped his waffle in the grass.

Last year's 5,000m in Heusden. Photo Fabienne Nicolas

As usually happens in these races, the pace slacked with about three laps to go. I decided to be a brash 23 year old (what’s my age again?), put myself on the sacrificial goat side of things, and push the pace at the front of the race. It works, sometimes. Other times it doesn’t.

My goal of 13:30 was in reach on the backstretch of the final lap. “All” I had to do was run a 45 second last 300 meters.

But I ran a 49, and a 13:34, and rode the late bus home to Leuven, the best little medieval, circular town in Europe, pleased with my effort but disappointed with the result.

The Heusden after party in Leuven is also famous amongst those of the aforementioned athlete-traveler persuasion. Stella Artois world HQ is in Leuven, and the beer is cheaper by the glass than water at restaurants in the square at the center of town. The Heusden 5k was to be my final race of the season. We drank a lot of Stella, danced our faces off, and didn’t go home until the sky woke up.

But also not before Aric Van Halen mentioned he was running a 3,000m over in Kortrijk later that day, Sunday, an hour’s train ride away, and would I run it too? On a whim, the last thing I did before collapsing drunkenly on my mattress in our small apartment was enter myself in the Kortrijk meet online.

I woke up feeling surprisingly good. Chugged some water, went for a walk, and ate a Doner Kebab. It was well past noon. Maybe I would go run this 3k in Kortrijk for the hell of it. You don’t think at a deep level when you have a hangover. In this case, that turned out to be the ticket.

…To a win and 3k personal best of 7:49 for 3,000m in Kortrijk. I don’t remember feeling any pain. The good ones sometimes go that way. Your body sends less stress signals. My brain was fuzzy from a long night out. It said shut up! to the any high rpm thoughts trying to escape my prefrontal cortex. 

I spent a few more years chasing times and a breakthrough across the country and world.

Zap Fitness training run in beloved Todd, NC.

2018. I’m 28, and on Sunday morning, I really did run in Houston - the one in big Texas. Not a 5k, but a half marathon. That’s right, I’m allowed to plant a 13.1 sticker on my bike. Yeah, I run. (It actually technically wasn’t my debut. My brother, David beat me up in a half in Milwaukee in what seems like an earlier life.)

When we planned for it back in September, the Houston half marathon represented a literal and figurative change of pace for my running career.  My body had to get used to running 100+ mile weeks again. I dubbed November “niggle November” for the roughly seven moderate injuries that paraded through my muscles and joints that month with the increased workload. Above all, I looked forward to trying something other than than chasing increasingly elderly personal bests on the track.

And then, around the time the new year hit, just two weeks before Houston, I entered a mental rough patch.

I’ve been running professionally for nearly five years now, and it’s been exhilarating, heartbreaking, fun, boring, enlightening, maddening, and the best thing I could imagine myself doing. When you start out after college, you have a gas tank full of excitement and expectation for the future. It gets you through the hard days and bad performances, helping you come back hungry. But it leaks and gets used up. It becomes exponentially harder to improve, so you sift through a long string of new mindsets, subtly different training methods, and meditation rituals.

You look around and realize that most of your colleagues, the runners your age, who you raced when you were kids, have hung up the spikes, have “real jobs”, are married and having kids of their own. American society does a double take when you say you run for a living. And the the longer you do it, the stranger it is. All runners are weirdos, and we thrive on it. But sometimes it’s hard to keep weird. (Maybe I need to visit a former home - Austin, TX).

Agony and ecstasy. Photo Jason Honeycutt

Coming into Houston, running didn’t exactly feel new and shiny anymore. Maybe I was afraid I’d bomb the race. It would mean failing to grab ahold of the life preserver that the half marathon was trying to throw me from the horizon-bound sail boat of my running career.

Feeding my dark mood was a the fact that my big toes and feet had been suddenly and randomly losing control and going floppy at faster paces, especially after longer periods of running. So like, exactly what the half marathon entails. Those symptoms point to a funky sciatic nerve. There was no pain, but my foot plant was being affected, causing my calves to tighten up. And a small mechanical problem could add up over 13.1 miles.

I’ve looked back to that summer 2013 weekend in Heusden and Kortrijk, Belgium for inspiration and example many times. Not for the wild night, but for the place my mind was in when I started the 3,000 on the second day. My brain was animal, then. It didn’t care. It was blind to outside factors.

I had to get my sh*t together for this race in Houston. I had trained too hard to let myself get distracted by the future, or where else and what else I could be doing.

It started getting easier when we left our hotel in Tallahassee for travel to Houston on Thursday. Easier with the familiarity of airports and flights, by now strong associations with race weekends, sizing up competitors in hotel lobbies, feeling the tractor beam of excitement and nervousness beginning to suck us all towards the adrenaline moment of the starting gun on Sunday morning.

When I began feeling these things, I knew I was safe, safe in running. My instincts would handle everything. I was trained.

On Saturday, the day before the race, some of the elite runners in the race spoke in front of a large group of Houston kids who’d run a 5k that morning. One of their questions was typical of these kinds of sessions, and went something like

“what do you guys think about, like in your heads, when you run? How do you keep from wanting to stop?”

Wanting to stop is at the core of running. You heard it from a twelve year old.

When the mic came my way, I had time, and space, and temporality in my head, themes in these less than happy several weeks. I evoked the teachings of Master Yoda in my best impression:

“All his life has he looked away... to the future, to the horizon. Never his mind on where he was... what he was doing.”

I told them: be in the mile you’re in, in the footstep you’re in, not thinking about how far there is to go. Back in the hotel room I re-watched the scene with Luke Skywalker and Yoda on Degobah in The Empire Strikes Back. Chills. I hopped up and did another round of neural flossing for my sciatic nerve.

The half and full marathons start at the same time in Houston. 7:00am. They share the same route for about seven miles before the half course turns off and heads back downtown to the finish. One mile into the race, I found myself running in the full marathon lead pack. Their pacer was assigned to hit halfway in 1:03:00, perfect for me. But by mile three it was clear the marathoners were rolling just a tad slower than I wanted. I peeked around the side of their lead truck. Up the road, Matt and the half marathon chase pack were a block of vacant pavement away.

Decision time. Pass the truck, dive into the vacumn, and hope for help from a fellow white-bibbed half marathoner? Or stay put and wait?

I went around the truck. Moments later, a small but powerful figure materialized on my shoulder in the form of Luis Orta, Venezuela’s star runner. Luis and I ran the entire remainder of the race together, bouncing moments of fatigue and spurts of energy off each other as we tackled Houston block by block.  My foot strike got numb and floppy at a few points, but by relaxing and not dwelling on it I kept it in the background. We never did gain ground on Matt’s group, but with each other’s presence we could exist in what would have been no man’s land. The sun rose, all golden light and signpost shadows, during mile four.

Luis Orta and I kicking to the finish in Houston. Photo Michael Scott

Luis and I battled all the way to the line, catching some good scalps in the final 200 meters. He just out-leaned me to break the Venezuelan half marathon record.

In the end, Houston and a debut at the half marathon distance gave me what I needed. I ran 63:35, a good time, not a breakout performance, but enough to be proud of. Sitting here five days later I’m still feeling the delicious soreness in my quads and hamstrings left by Houston’s pavement. It feels good to have a new personal best. Damn good, actually. Even if it’s a first go. I like that the distance feels so different than the stinging pain of a track 5,000m - like a novella that does some unfolding before you’re through with it. 

Writing this in Tallahassee during a little down week in training, I think I have my spark back. I’m looking forward to another debut. Somehow, I’ve made it all this way never having run a 10,000m on the track. 25 laps fits snugly between the new experience of 13.1 miles on the road and the quick pace of the 5,000m, a world I’m quite well versed in.

Winning is fun. Being healthy and happy and PR’ing is fun. Especially when these things come easy, like in Kortrijk. When I drank a bunch of beer and shouldn't have run well, but did. The memory of that race is a curse, too, for how little I had to struggle for success. A simultaneously good and bad example from the past, for the future.

They're amazing, the intangibles in running. In any endeavor, for that matter. Wanting to stop, and then not having stopped - that's how you win.

It’s nice when life goes your way. But no one gets these things all the time.

If you did, you’d know nothing about yourself.

Here are some things I'm looking forward to:

Date	Race Name	Location	Venue / Distance
March 30	Raleigh Relays	Raleigh, NC	Track 1500
April 14	B.A.A. 5k	Boston, MA	Road 5k
May 3	Payton Jordan Invite	Palo Alto, CA	Track 10,000m
June 21 - 24	USATF Outdoor Championships	Des Moines, IA	Who knows?
July 4	Peachtree Challenge	Atlanta, GA	Road 10k

Cork and Kortrijk, Fundamental Particles

These word travel in a battalion of binary, tinily constituent of a surging light pulse torrent hastening at the universal speed limit within a three inch diameter fibre optic cable on the bottom of the Atlantic.  Outside this intercontinental information superhighway lies absolute inky blackness, vertical miles of ocean hammering down in mute pressure.  At one point the cable passes a group of thermophilic deep sea organisms huddled around a volcanic vent for sulphur and heat.  We share some DNA with them.

Belgium was warm when we got in on the third of July.  That Saturday, Leuven set an all-time temperature record of 35, convert that, 95 degrees fahrenheit.  The bell tower near us played the Star Spangled Banner in the afternoon. #America.  Our apartment at the summit of its very steep and narrow staircase stuffed between buildings doesn't have air conditioning.  So it goes.

Ireland on Sunday was much cooler.  During the bus ride west from Dublin I was surprised to see large rolling hills and occasional stands of coniferous trees lining the highway.  Southwest Ireland was beautifully cast in late evening light filtering through clouds as we rolled into Cork, a harbor city.  The athletes competing in the Cork City Sports meet were put in student housing near the track a couple miles out of town.  There was one very weak wifi network set up for an army of twenty-somethings far from home.  We looked like thermophiles around a volcanic vent.

The 3k in Cork in front of race winner Brett Robinson

I think I enjoyed all the potatoes and sausage (bangers and mash) more than most.  The Irish are very hospitable and easy to strike up conversations with.  Most Irish will say they can't even understand the accent of the Cork Irish, and I could hear why.  The (friendly?) rivalry between Corkers and Dubliners extends to their respective local beers.  Drinking Cork's Murphys Irish Stout and Dublin's Guinness back-to-back, I'd have to say Guinness still takes the blood pudding.

Despite windy and chilly conditions for the meet, the 3000 went a relatively quick 3:08 for the first three paced laps.  I put myself immediately behind the rabbit and when he dropped off American Jon Peterson generously took over the lead.  We slacked a bit on laps four and five and I let my eyes off the front of the race momentarily which cost me.  Australian Brett Robinson and Jeff See plucked a lead ahead of the pack.  With 200 meters to go I was moving really well and passing Dave McNeil, another Aussie while the announcer billed it as an Australia versus America finish.  I was third in 7:54, a good start to the five race tour in Europe.

By mid-week the drove of American professional runners had settled in after their annual migration to Leuven, Belgium.  Like Canada Geese we are here for the climate, we fly in V-formations on runs, eat a lot, and generally piss off the locals.  Leuven is an out-of-the-way small town with everything Canada Geese need: a track to shit on (metaphorically), lots of awesome green space for our activity, and the by now famous waffle stand.

On Saturday seemingly everyone ran the 1500 in Kortrijk, a small town on the Belgium - France border.  Courtrai (the french name) has been nice Nice to me in the past: it's given me a 3k PB  before and nearly a 1500 PB last year.  This time the fields were large and loaded, perhaps to the detriment of the races.  I didn't get out quite hard enough over the first 100 meters, even though it was probably 13.xx, was far back in the pack, and had to make at least three huge moves, each on the backstretch of every lap, until I gained a spot in third with 200m to go right behind Lopez Lomong.  The moves cost me a strong kick to 3:42, a subpar time but decent considering the whipsaw pace.

George and I got in a little fartlek and 400s tuneup session this morning in light mist.  Both of us feel great coming into Saturday's KBC Nacht meet in Heusden, where we're both running the 5k along with Leuven apartment room mates Brian Shrader and Maverick Darling and several other US runners.  The Olympic qualifying window is open and a fast time is the target.

For now thanks for reading and I'll post an update after the next couple meets.  Here is my upcoming race schedule:

Date	Race Name	Location	Venue / Distance
July 18	KBC Nacht	Heusden, Belgium	Track 5000
July 24	Morton Games	Morton, Ireland	Track 3000
August 1	Flanders Cup Ninove	Ninove, Belgium	Track 5000
August 7	Sir Walter Miler	Raleigh, NC	Track Mile

Euracing Part IV (But from America)

There were some problems with my entry into the KBC Nacht 5000 in Heusden, and I spent a day wondering if I'd even be racing before I was placed in the "C" heat.  I begged my case to the entries judge: "You have 27 guys in the "B" section field, can't you make it an even 28?"  To which he replied "I am so sorry, we have field size limits."  At which I thought Limits?  27?  Might as well make it 30 or 40.  I wasn't so cheeky out loud.  The C heat turned out to be faster anyway, as the Americans made it honest in 81 degrees.  Eric Finan and John Peterson shared the lead after the rabbit took us through 2k on 65 seconds / lap.  Joe Bosshard had some balls in the final mile, leading until the last lap, which produced an exciting finish.  I went around him with 350 to go but he re-passed coming into the back straight.  I answered again on the final curve, and coming into the home stretch I thought I had it won until Finan blew by to win in 13:37 to my 13:38.  Another 5k in the 13:30's, but in the conditions and given my effort I was at least content with it.

Just two nights later George and I were back on the track in Gent for a windy 3k.  I got the win but was pulled right into drug testing.  I got a bottle of champagne for winning so it wasn't all bad (I like to keep the cup half full...) When that was over with we "lite jogged" about a mile in street clothes into downtown Gent for Gentse Feesten, which was especially impressive since it was Belgian National Day.  In short, we enjoyed a massive outdoor music festival set in amazing seventeenth century building - studded downtown Gent.  My loyal readers know I sometimes use dancing as a recovery method, and the house music on the main stage provided the impetus.

The 3000 at Flanders Cup Gent

Living in Leuven where so many American, Canadian, and European runners base camp, I saw how other professional groups train and carry themselves.  In one small Belgian town, a large part of our country's distance running strength was assembled.  With the very athletes we compete against in the big meets and national championships, we took the train to meets, cooked, watched movies, shared gossip within the sport, and ran.  The opportunity to run fast in a foreign land fostered community amongst rivals and friends, which was definitely my favorite aspect of the trip.  Talking with everyone each day at the practice track and over dinner I learned everything from the training methodologies of  various groups to who is happy where to what it takes to improve steadily through your twenties only to shave your beautiful beard.

The scene at Gentse Feesten 2014

I won two races and was second in two others during my tour in Europe.  Racing near the front and winning builds experience and confidence.  I ran tough, but the truth is that I didn't quite accomplish everything I wanted to overseas.  The breakthrough I've been patiently working for did not happen.  My performances were right on par with how I've been running for the past two years.  I place high expectations on myself, and results I once would be elated with simply aren't enough anymore.  That being said, I understand that I'm still adding water behind the dam.  I was talking with team mate Cole Atkins yesterday, and he suggested that I've been working out too hard.  More specifically, my pain tolerance has become so high that I don't realize I'm taking away from the races during workouts.  That could definitely be part of the issue, as my workouts indicate I'm ready to run 13:15 to 13:20 in the 5k.  The positive is that all that work is Stilin my body and it's not going anywhere.  I can still use it in the coming years.

We added one more race to the end of the season, and I'm very excited about it.  It's a new event called the Sir Walter Miler at Meredith College in Raleigh, NC.  It's a perfect opportunity to run one more fast mile before shutting it down for a few weeks in August.  The event organizers are doing an amazing job of promoting and setting the event up to be spectator friendly and fun.  They'll have food trucks, live music, and an after party at a brewery in Raleigh.  These are the kinds of events we need in the US!  They improve the popularity of the sport immensely.  Stay tuned for a recap!

Sir Walter Miler website

KBC Nacht Results

Flanders Cup Gent Results

Euracing Part III

How to fit in with the Belgians, and Europeans for that matter.

Last year in Belgium I wasn't fooling anyone: I clearly looked and acted American.  More often than not, cashiers and people on the street would open with English when speaking with me, doubtless for the cargo shorts and running shoes I wore around.  I've gotten better since, and they begin with Dutch.  I don't come from a fashion background by any means, but it's been interesting observing the differences.  There's nothing complicated about the male Euro look.  The defining elements are the haircut, pants, and shoes.  One additional accessory seems to complete a look, such as a watch, handkerchief, or tie (or scarf?)  Your haircut should be very short on the sides, longer and combed over on top.  If you're really going for it, you get highlights.  Your shoes can be literally anything from 180€ leather dress shoes to crocks depending on the situation.  Sandals seem to be totally acceptable, but running shoes aren't.  You're better off wearing Vans.  And your pants better be tight.  All the better if they're colorful and show your ankles.  I haven't gotten that far yet though.

As long as you don't walk through towns gawking at gargoyles, you sit facing the street, people watching (even with two in your party), and you have an espresso or beer in your hand at all times, you'll fit right in.

The Coolest Workout Setting, Ever

Spent a day In Bruges

On Tuesday I was In Bruges for the final workout of track season.  We call it the Zap Fitness Pete Rea "Classic" and it usually serves as a race week tuneup.  It's a 4-3-2-1-3-2-1 minute fartlek with 1/2 time "offs".  Run correctly, the difference in paces begins only 10-15 seconds / mile and increases as the fasts get faster and the slows get slower.  What made the session, though, was the scenery.  Bruges is circular with a canal running around the perimeter.  A soft surface bike path runs along the inside of the canal, making for a perfect place to run.  Every half mile was a drawbridge and accompanying mini castle / keep.  There were also several old fashioned wind mills (you know, the Dutch ones) along the way.  I was pretty happy we found the location, not to mention with a track nearby.

Scalp Taking in Kortrijk

LetsRun.com gave me some love for beating Kenyan Conseslus Kipruto on Saturday night in the Kortrijk 1500.  It was a strange race as only myself, the eventual winner Carsten Schlangen of Germany, and Rich Peters went with the pacer.  I split 57 through 400, 1:56 at 800, and 2:55 at 1200, making up a large gap to Schlangen in the third lap.  I nearly drew even with him on the final curve but he had me on the home stretch.  The remainder of the field including Kipruto was coming late, but held back a bit too much early to catch us.  For me it was an excellent confidence booster and speed injection coming into this weekend.

Vacation within a Vacation

On the beach in Duinberg, Knokke-Heist, Belgium with
George, Donn, and Peter.

After Kortrijk I spent a few days up on the seaside in Duinbergen, Knokke-Heist with Princeton team mates Peter Callahan, Donn Cabral, and George Gallaso.  The week-long siege the clouds laid on Belgium finally ended and we enjoyed some time on the beach.  Peter spent his childhood summers here and showed us some of the Belgian shore culture.  Pistolets (bread rolls with slits down the middle) with dark chocolate spread or American prepare (very finely ground raw beef) is a Sunday tradition.  We also had the tiny shrimp they catch right offshore us as the tide comes in.  On the beach the children collect a certain type of sea shell with a serrated edge and use them as currency to buy bouquets of plastic flowers for their sand castles.  Most of all I enjoyed getting in some runs with my friends and team mates from college.  Running certainly has brought us far.

Time to Run!

I can't be more excited for this weekend.  The Heusden KBC Nacht 5k on Saturday night, a day of rest on Sunday, and the 3k in Gent on Monday night will cap off the track season.  Over the past few days I've browsed through my running log reflecting on all the work I've put in since January, and looked at photos from all the moments at meets and at Zap we've already had in 2014.  Taken one way, it all culminates in these two races.  But I'm not thinking of it that way.  This is just another race weekend on the way to wherever running eventually takes me.  I'm more excited than nervous, and know that it'll be more fun than anything else.  I'm completely relaxed and happy to be here, ready to compete and let it unfold the way I know it will.

Euracing Part II: Trains, Rains, and Banana Peels

On a shakeout run on KU Leuven's 

Day five of Zap Fitness' Tour De Belgium opened with a cool, steady rain that slid off the awning windows of my dorm room in large beads.  After a breakfast of jellied croissants, a banana and espresso, George and I set out to warmup for the last big workout of the track season.  On our way we passed centuries old red brick university buildings interspersed with modern though much less ornate cement and steel ones.  Even in the rain we saw many people headed to work and school on bikes.

Pete explained via text from Zap that the purpose of this workout was to stimulate "muscle memory".  What he meant was not to kill the session and to practice the pace at which we'll be racing 5k next week in Heusden-Zolder.  Despite the rain, conditions on the track were quite good: Leuven's oval drains very well and there was no wind.

George and I in front of the main library in
Leuven

I ran three 1500m intervals and four 400m reps, going 4:04, 4:00, and 4:00 on the 1500s, and 60, 57, 57, 58 on the 400s.  George's session was slightly different but we were able to share the pace during our first 1500.  After the shenanigans of this past weekend in Oordegem, where I didn't know what to make of a near solo 3:43 1500 race in the rain, this session boosted my confidence.  Even with generous rest, the way I felt on those 1500s indicates I'm more than ready to run very well next week.

In Oordegem on Saturday I ended up in a later, slower 1500 heat that was scheduled for a time that flirted with when the last train home would leave.  When it became apparent that my heat would be delayed, George (who wasn't racing) managed to secure a ride to the train station, but it would be close.  I finished in first and almost forgot we had to leave, congratulating the field until George shouted "Joe, we gotta go!"  I jogged over to my stuff, grabbed it, and got in a van, still in spikes.  We made it to the station with four minutes to spare, which I used to jog back and forth on the (soft surface!) platform for a short cool down.  The old Stella Artois brewery next to the train station in Leuven was a welcome sight as we got back, since I did not want to be milking cows in exchange for a bed that night.

A woman who was holding really still at
the botanical garden

The next day we explored Leuven a bit more on bikes, finding more than a few dilapidated old Catholic churches and a very well kept botanical garden.  For lunch we had sandwiches at my favorite cafe / bar / club in town, De Rector.  I had the Martino, a baguette with beef tartare and chili sauce.  We broke our dessert fast with waffles and gelato afterwards.  Dangerous.

For now we're staying dry and recovering from the workout this morning, our minds on the next race this Saturday in Kortrijk.

Euroacing Part I

While traveling and racing in Europe I'll depart from the usual style in the next few blog posts - most likely embodied in even worse sentence structure than before and voyages into random, unedited ramblings.

My trusty steed Libertas for
the next three weeks.

George and I arrived in Bruxelles yesterday and took the fifteen minute train ride to our base camp in Leuven, Belgium.  It's a small medieval town with lots of good food, beer, a track, and excellent trails that branch and meander into the dairy cow occupied Belgian countryside (I'm at home, being from Wisconsin).  One of the first things we did was rent bikes for the next month.  Everyone here rides bikes complete with fenders, a handbell, and bike rack, and having one makes us feel part of the community in Leuven. Plus they're 15 euro / month, a steal.

Any good traveler knows that you're on that country's time when you step off the plane, and it's no different for runners.  Many of the athletes living with or near us in Leuven arrived this week after racing the US Championships in Sacramento last weekend and are competing in the Flanders Cup meeting in Oordegem on Saturday.  We'll be jetlagged for the race, but in my mind it's best to get on schedule quickly rather than take long naps to catch up.

George and I in front of Leuven's Town Hall

Yesterday, George and I occupied ourselves with a run, people watching and espresso beside Leuven's central cathedral and finding bedding for our dorm rooms, although we  did pull the sweat shirt for a pillow trick.  We cooked a dinner worthy of the old times at training camp in Tallahassee: Chicken, rice, and veggies in a pan.  Plenty of pricey meals including meatball salad, raw beef sandwhiches, and mussels and frites await us this trip, and getting groceries saves tons of money, especially in Europe.

Danny Stockberger and I discussing Game of Thrones at
Koffie Onan

Today I did a pre meet run of 50 minutes, strides and a 400 in 58.9 to wake the body up after traveling.  I'm breaking out the USA red, white, and blue Reebok spikes for the four races on my tour here.  Pride in country is essential around Independence Day and after Belgium sent the US home from the World Cup on Tuesday.  I felt heavy and sluggish on the run, but after strides I began to feel like myself
again.



Tomorrow is a 1500 in Oordegem which is a good race to start with.  The plan is to relax, find the rail, and close the last lap well.  Once I've busted the rust at a shorter distance and overseas, I'll run one last hard session on the track next week before another 1500 in Kortjirk on Saturday.  Then it's onto the Heusden 5000 on the 19th.  In between I plan to go on a few day trips to Germany, France, and perhaps Switzerland.

For planning and funding the trip I thank Zap Fitness and everybody who supports the non profit running center in Blowing Rock, NC. Because of Zap's running camps and the donations made by runners, campers, and people interested in improving American distance running, George and I are able to go overseas for three and a half weeks to race the best in the world during an experience of a lifetime.  Zap's product is it's elite athlete team, and our trip is proof that its model for support is working very well.

Racing Schedule:

July 5	Flanders Cup Oordegem	Oordegem, Belgium	Outdoor 1500
July 12	Flanders Cup Kortrijk	Kortrijk, Belgium	Outdoor 3000
July 19	KBC Nacht	Heusden-Zolder, Belgium	Outdoor 5000
July 21	Flanders Cup Gent	Gent, Belgium	Outdoor 3000

Arrival in Leuven

The past two weeks have moved incredibly fast: I signed with Reebok / ZAP Fitness three days ago and got the opportunity to race in Europe, something I dreamed of doing coming into this track season.  I count myself very lucky to have spent less than four months in the 'unattached-drifting-limbo' phase, something that can be difficult to get out of for post collegiates and even pros - look at Leo Manzano, the Olympic Silver Medalist for crying out loud (into a microphone).  His situation is a different story.

I'm writing from the lobby of the Mercure Hotel in the town of Leuven, which is the beer capital of Belgium and home of Stella Artois.  Tomorrow I'll be running a 1500 in the town of Oordegem at Memorial Leon Buyle, part of the Flanders Cup series.  That race serves chiefly as a rust buster/shakeout for the 5000 a week later in Heusden-Zolder at the KBC Nacht Meeting.  Tomorrow's meeting features quite a few Americans, many of whom I've already raced this season.  Of course there will be stiff competition from Europeans and Africans there as well.  It'll be nice introduction to European racing.  (Entries)

I arrived in Brussels around nine AM this morning and am doing my best to stay awake.  I did a pre meet shakeout run with IU Alum Danny Stockberger from a nice little track nestled in the woods next to the Movements and Posture Analysis Laboratory Leuven, out into the countryside on a rustic soft surface trail.  We followed that with lunch at a sandwich shop we found.  Leuven is a nice little town; a great place to base... the only problem: the amount of chocolate, waffles, ice cream, and beer that tempt at ever corner (alley, crevice, hole in the wall) you encounter.

Working out in Leuven on 7/09/2013 with Will Leer and Aisha Praught

 Geez, I've only been here four hours and the girls are already after me.