Pig's aren’t meant to fly, especially wet ones. Regardless of weather, each year since the mid 90’s, early spring brings packs of self-proclaimed running ‘swine,’ looking to fly down the streets of Cincinnati. The Flying Pig Marathon has built itself up to be one of the top marathon weekends in the state, if not the country. That being the case I was tickled to get a last minute invite to bring the truck in for this year’s weekend of events, and with friends and family planning to attend, you couldn’t have wiped the smile from my face.

This actually was meant to be a ‘weekend off.’ A nice vacation away from the truck and not having to wake up at four, five or six AM on Saturday/Sunday would have served me well. Post PENN - after the long weekend and coming off an unexpected 24 hour flew that was more like 48 hours - a weekend ‘away’ sounded peachy. But I’m not one to rest, and seeing that we had an open weekend I couldn’t pass up an opportunity to get back to my home state for one of the bigger marathon event weekends. And only two hours southeast of Indy, it wouldn’t be a long haul. Even with Neal taking a well deserved trip back home to the Mit, I’d have some friends of my own to catch up with and a new co-pilot (new east coast sales rep, Stefanie Kamm) at my side. It was sure to be a win-win situation.

Except it quickly turned into a win-lose kind of weekend.

Mother Nature is a beautiful thing. At the same time, however, she can wield a natural wand of nasty unpleasantness that can ruin any occasion. And unfortunately this weekend in the Nasty Natti she would do work with that wand of hers, sending down buckets upon buckets of water on the area. The stark opposite of Friday’s forecast Stefanie and I were met with getting in: a pristine, sun soaked river front atYeatman’s Cove that could not have felt and looked much better. I was excited for the weekend that lay ahead, excited for the runners who would hopefully reap the benefits of such beautiful surroundings along their foot march in and around the city.

So when the rain soaked morning of Saturday welcomed us - with its ferocious cracks of lightning and booming thunderclouds - it was with great sadness that pessimistic thoughts on the weekend outlook crept in. It got to a point of such self convincing I felt the race might not even go off.

Either way, we had made it through the miserable conditions thus far; stubbornness more than anything seeing us through. Managing to wait out that first day long enough, we drew in at least one customer, an equally cold and fed up massage therapist cutting out early. Taking pity I’m sure, he even bought a few things (thank you kind masseuse!). The other bright note being we had everything set and in position, overlooking the open grassy lawn at park’s center; a fitting meeting ground where post-racers were meant to enjoy live music, food and drink, and the high spirits of completing their respective distance. I left cold and wet, crossing my fingers for a dryer tomorrow but happy we stuck it out.

And what's the saying, ‘When life gives you lemons...’ We were going to make the most of the weekend - no matter what.

Stefanie and I took our glasses half full, quenching ourselves with a little post-event stress relief. Having popped in on my good friend and first cousin, one Ms. Jonni Perkins (with my twin broski, Jonah and other cousin Zac joining in as well) we lived up the opportunity to enjoy good company and the college lifestyle we’ve been removed from. Taking notes on how future visits might go better, visiting the expo itself, and grabbing a great bite to eat before heading out for the night, my spirits were again lifted when the rain began to wane. My outlook for race morning began to turn- with no rain, the race would go smoothly and our setup in the post-race festival would be a hit!

After Saturday’s wet afternoon spent huddled under our USATF tents, shivering and teeth jittering in the billowing wind, my night's optimism was smashed by the wakening sound of thunder. Our pre-dawn race morning was brought alight by intense, sporadic flashes piercing the otherwise dark skies. Heavy curtains of rain accompanying this light show again I was unsure of the race going off. Heading down to the trailer – squinting through flurried wipers – we were certain things would be delayed. Driving back up toward the start, we grabbed a needed hot cup of coffee as bibbed runners waded around the Starbucks beside us.

No way was the race starting on time.

But despite our beliefs, the gun sounded and the marathon got underway as these new era 'pigs' were off down the streets of this city formerly known as "Porkopolis". Literally, they weaved in and out of the downtown area, so much so we were essentially trapped. Unable to get the truck back to the trailer, we parked Lucy and hooved it back on foot. Setting up our tents once more, with display racks and tables densely pushed further underneath, it was a desperate attempt to make, again, the most of the conditions Mother Nature had dropped on us. Half-marathon finishers having already come through, the full participants heading toward their cars still appeared upbeat as they gingerly came back our way.

Pigs may not be meant to fly but try telling that to the 25,000 some participants who essentially did over this water logged weekend. Finally pulling away from the rain soaked ‘vacation’ weekend in Cincinnati, Stefanie and I both agreed: It doesn't get much worse than this! I felt terrible having only her second event go so poorly, but she learned - in a big way - that conditions aren’t always going to be perfect. It’s not always sunny as it was in Philly.

We look forward to having a USATF presence at the Pig next year. And now more prepared, we'll be ready for whatever weather conditions come our way (especially if we're inside the expo). I think that’s how most runners are programmed anyway, and why I shouldn’t have been surprised when so many were still smiling at the end of the morning. So fly on my swine-feathered friends, you finishers deserve a well deserved pat on the back. Flying on ourselves, we headed the short two hours into Indianapolis where we’d dry out and gear up for back-to-back-to-back events ahead.

118 years ago the University of Pennsylvania’s Track Committee chairman, Frank B. Ellis was racking his brain for a way to add excitement and interest to the 1893 spring handicap meet being hosted at the school's University Field Track.

His idea - a four man mile relay with each man running a quarter mile in succession hoping to help their respective team cross the finish line first. This idea led to a showdown, if you will, between two prestigious Ivy league schools, Penn (of course) and Princeton. And despite being the visiting team Princeton bested Penn in this groundbreaking race, helping jump start the longest running, uninterrupted collegiate track meet in the United States - leaving plenty of opportunities for Penn to get another crack at Princeton.

The excitement didn’t just stop at the one new relay race though. Two years after the inaugural mile relay, on April 21st, 1895 the University hosted it’s first ever Penn Relays, to serve as a commemoratory event for the University’s new Franklin Field and to help rejuvenate interest in Penn track - and did it ever. So much interest in fact, that the nine event track meet (four high school mile relays, four college mile relays and one championship mile relay) drew the largest crowd Philly had ever seen at a track event.

Fast forward 116 years - present day - April 22nd, 2010. Same electrifying meet, same historically amazing Franklin Field matched with the energetic crowd who is captivated by the meets excitement year in and year out. An event which drew approximately 5,000 spectators in its first year of existence, now attracts nearly 100,000 fans in a 3-day span as it has grown to a high school, collegiate, and professional premier event known in the track community as USA vs. The World.

The atmosphere of the meet is evident through statistics alone. According to the Penn Relays official site, “More athletes have run at the Penn Relays than at any single meet in the world and more spectators have watched the meet than any in the world except the Olympics and World Championships.” But, after seeing the hype of the meet first hand this year for the first time in my life, I’d say no statistic, story, photo or even video can do it justice.

From the Pan-African colors of black, green and yellow speckling the stands to the top notch athletes from all over the world, The Penn Relays illuminates the beauty of the track and field community and the sense of pride athletes and fans alike share for their nation, state, city and school.

For the first time in USA Track & Field history, our Fleet (Lucy and the newly acquired Sprinter Vans - Dash and Miles) came together at the helm of the relays, parked just outside of the gates of Franklin Field at the busy corner of 33rd and South Street. This was a perfect “coming out party” for the three vehicles as the crowd came out in droves, recording the largest numbers to attend the Penn Relays to date with a single-day high of 54,310 and the total of 117,346 for the three-day festival.

The reason for the record numbers this year is no secret though. Track fan or not, few people would pass on an opportunity to see the Michael Jordan of sprints, the Tiger Woods of the track, the World’s Fastest Man, Usain Bolt. And in his typical fashion, he put on a show for the crowd to remember, as he posted a blazing anchor split in the 4x100 of 8.79, pointing to the crowd with his baton to celebrate yet another victorious race.

But watching great race after great race was not an option for the USATF crew as our days were clouded by 12+ hours of merchandise sales, helping people gear up with USA swag before the showdown against “The World”. We stayed busy, bouncing back and forth between the massive Nike Merchandise Tent, back dropped by a fellow road warrior, The Nike Spike Bus and our set up along side USATF’s twins, Dash and Miles.

But, the premiere event in my eyes was one for which i was coined coach. Susie, fellow USATF employee and an absolute fury on the track, was running her debut 5k at the Penn Relays and requested my coaching expertise and encouraging cheers during her race. This was a job I did not take lightly, running workouts and easy days with her the weeks leading up to the big night, as well as the warm-up with her on race night, sharing my thoughts, urging her to stay confident, focused and to, of course, have fun! And, if I must say so myself, the coaching was excellent, but she deserves all the credit for her stellar performance.

The long work days of the 3-day festival took a toll on our bodies. We were worn out, tired, sore from standing (Susie from running) but satisfied with another successful weekend. We spent our last night over a delectable italian meal at the famous Portofino Restaurant. Sharing great conversation and great laughs - while being utterly annoyed by a group of medical sales people at the table next to us. I found my mind drifting to the weekend ahead, though. To time off, with the people I love, back home in the Mitten. Thoughts of Ypsi/Arbor, Obama's commencement speech at The University of Michigan, long runs on my old stomping grounds, EMU Track and Field, golf with my dad, and some quality time with my mom cluttered my brain. It had been 3 months since I was home, long overdue and definitely the perfect weekend.

"I was expecting the Rocky Mountains to be a little Rockier than this."

"I was thinking the same thing. That John Denver is full of..." –Harry and Loyd, Dumb and Dumber

After our Easter morning in Orem, with its unwelcoming blanket of snow, we ventured again further into the mountains of 70. With essentially nothing else between where we were and where we were going (Fayetteville), a convenient must-stop awaited us: Boulder, CO.

In all honesty Boulder is a must stop for many a reason, especially for runners and self-proclaimed adventurous, outdoorsy types (we like to think so at least). And home to the University of Colorado, this college town and close surroundings have been a running mecca in the states for quite some time. I can distinctly remember at 14 putting down Chris Lear’s Running With the Buffaloes (and after a ten day backcountry camping adventure to Rocky Mountain National Park) nearly shaking, convinced of my future plans; essentially setting my goals on getting into CU where I’d do nearly nothing but study and get really fit, putting in beautiful 20-milers every Sunday on the ‘holy grounds’ of Magnolia Road. These illusions sadly faded over the coming four years of high school, but I’m always reminded of that excitement when I come back, still yearning to at least one long in down Magnolia…

But getting into the heart of the city, we drove down Pearl Street taking in the different shops, eateries and bars. Spending a solid first day at the base of the Flat Irons, we didn’t waste much Felt single gear. Finally, I was happy to accompany Neal around town as he put in an easy seven or eight.

After showering up, and before heading back to Pearl to catch the Men’s NCAA basketball championships, a clairvoyant moment occurred and I picked up the phone.Alan and Shayne Culpepper, I thought I remembered reading, opened there own store somewhere in the area. Turns out they certainly had, and extremely close to our La Quinta in nearby Louisville. Fortunately on such short notice, Alan gave us the nod to stop in the following afternoon.

With a big grin across my face when I woke, it was our last day in Boulder, but the store visit was only hours away. I was gitty. Working so many championship events we end up intermingling with quite a fair number of current, former, and aspiring future Olympians. But, it’s rare that we get to interact with one, especially an idol, on a one-on-one basis. Solepepper Sports isn’t a particularly spacious store, but it doesn’t matter. The intimacy and quality of their product offering is what you come for.

When you have a multi-time Olympian doing a personal, professional video gait analysis, it takes the shoe fitting experience to a whole other level. And Alan certainly appears to do it all, and well. When we came in it was him and store manager, Patrick, covering the floor. Conversation was broken up over the course of our hour visit as customers filtered in and out, but eventually we got to speak at length. First, taking good time gawking at the Sole of Fame as he discussed each unique and autographed one (the likes of El G, Shalane Flanagan, Mo Greene, cover a full wall); evidence again to how he and Shayne’s Olympic roots help provide a little extra spice to the place.

The conversation progressed into some of the unique extracurricular programs and clinics they have in mind. Bringing the community together (especially at the youth level) seems to be a sincere important initiative as they look to get kids (and their families) excited about the sport. We also touched on how group nights and training clinics were in the works to help educate, motivate and develop skills for proper training. With so many outdoor activities at their exposure, there are a lot of other options for Boulderites to get into, so it was encouraging to hear how popular a choice running still is. With their support this should only continue to grow.

Not wanting to take up the entire afternoon, we left the guys to get back to business. Only into its second year, there is no doubt Solepepper will inevitably have to multiply as demand seems to be picking up pace. And I say the more the merrier! Now we just need to get more Olympians to follow the Culpepper lead, adding valuable support to the industry and sport.

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For certain reasons this section of our schedule reminded me of coming into the final of a hard 400. When you’re heading into the home straight, almost completely spent – tired and legs buckling (as Neal might describe it, 'Doing the dinosaur') – but giving it all you got. We were tired at this point in the travels, but excited to finish things out. We’d been gone from home base in Indianapolis since the middle of February, tracing the miles back to the Missouri invite stop before heading to Albuquerque for Indoor Champs. After a nearly two month stretch, I was excited about finishing out this last leg.

70 east was the route into Arkansas. And of all major sections of freeway I’ve been on, this stretch does not bring about fond images or feelings. There are no mountains, no beautiful wispy skies, rivers or streams. It is miles of the same: flat and windy farm land. So after heading out of Boulder, this stretch of road from eastern Colorado to Lawrence, Kansas was not easy for me. But after a lot of whining, coming into Lawrence got me excited with its rich running lore. Only passing through though, we quickly got into the The Natural State for this final event of our western lap, the 34th Hogeye Marathon.

Voted one of the hardest marathons in the country, Hogeye is no walk in the park. Even with a recent route change this year was no exception.

Not a large participatory event by any means – capped at maybe six hundred participants between the full and half (with a nice 5k kicking off the morning) – it made for an interesting comparison coming from LA. Starting and finishing in the very heart of downtown Fayetteville, it makes for a quaint beginning and end. But the meandering out and about, up and down the rest of Razorback country is what makes (and sometimes breaks) the race.

The hills – the intensely steep hills – are everywhere. Inescapable. Add to that the accompanying 75-80 degree heat that Sunday would bare, it was likened to a ‘death march,’ as one runner put it. But these people knew what they were getting into, at least all those we spoke with passing in and out of the expo the day before. Having had a day to acclimate to the surroundings, we knew quite well this was not your ordinary flat or rolling course. We wished everyone all the best.

Throughout the following, long morning Neal and I gave our sincerest moral support. Cheering the runners as they reappeared into the downtown square, coming past our setup before the finishing turn, we clapped and ‘Woop, Wooped,’ as many desperately found their way up and into the finish.

But finish they did!

Like the hills themselves, the morning temperatures only went up, and up. But it didn’t stop the runners from completing what they started. Not easy to watch, I couldn’t imagine trying to pound out 26.2 let alone the 13.1 under those conditions, but they ‘Got R done!’ If you want to run a marathon, I mean really run a marathon, sign up for the Hogeye. If you can get yourself through it you will have certainly earned your stripes. More than likely – somehow, like the many multi-time finishers we came across – you will want to run it again.

A big thanks goes out to co-race director Tabby Holmes for welcoming us in and for all the help and support she gave. Secondly, to the university, the runners, and all the Fayetteville people in general for your tremendous hospitality. Everywhere we went we were always more than taken care of. I began to think my name had been changed to “sweety.” And finally, a big WOOO PIG(!) to this 34th running, and to successfully finishing out this long stretch of events!

Despite Loyd’s sentiments, John Denver put it fittingly for me, “Country Roads take me home…to the place I belong.”

You guys might not know this, but I consider myself a bit of a loner. I tend to think of myself as a one-man wolf pack. But when I joined Juris as the new Tour Operator for USA Track & Field, I knew he was one of my own. And my wolf pack...it grew by one. So then, there were two of us in the wolf pack. I was alone at first in the pack, and then Juris joined in later. And three months ago, when Juris and I made our first trip to the Houston Marathon, I never imagined the places I would be. So when we confirmed a spot at the Las Vegas Track Classic and my brother and great friend Wade volunteered to come help work the meet, I thought, "Wait a second, could it be?" And now I know for sure, I had just added two more guys to my wolf pack. Four of us wolves, working a track meet in the desert together, in Las Vegas.

Pulling onto the strip as the sun set to the west, Lucy looked like a model on a catwalk with gawking glares locked onto her shimmering paint job under the colorful lights of Vegas. Destination for the evening: Best Western Mardi Gras, a perfect place to lay our heads down and get some sleep after the LONG day at the LA Marathon Expo. But, before we called it a night, we of course had to test our luck on the quarter slots in the lobby of our hotel. I went first, and 50 cents poorer I handed the seat over to Juris who walked away with a $20 bill in his pocket; first slot machine ever – first quarter ever – and there he was smiling, admiring a crisp new twenty.

So, after a short drive from LA to Vegas and a successful night at the slots (for Juris) we were ready for the two day meet at Del Sol High School. Friday was a jam packed afternoon filled with a complete list of events for the freshmen and sophomores while Saturday was the 'main event'. The gusting winds that swept across the desert made for interesting results on the track and an even more interesting attempt to keep the USATF merchandise in order at our display setup behind the press box.

But as quickly as we got in to Sin City we were packed and ready to go first thing Sunday morning to a new state and a new city; one with a little different values and atmosphere, home to Brigham Young University (BYU), Provo Utah.

Utah didn’t just bring a change in atmosphere though, the beauty the state had to offer on the drive into Provo can barely be described in words. Driving from Vegas brought breathtaking views as parts of the freeway curved through split gigantic rock formations, and a trip into Zion National Park, which photos won't do justice for. If you haven't been, I'll leave it to you to get there and see it for yourself.

But like all of our great trips, there was work to be done as the weekend saw us at Timpanogos High School for the Alpha Invitational. Perched right behind the curve of the track looking out at snow capped mountains, we watched as each exciting event kept our mind off the nearly 30 degree cooler temperatures than we had been so spoiled with the weeks prior.

And after a great event (big thanks to Coach Benson for providing a great spot) we were back on the road once again, upwards and onwards. Next stop Boulder, CO to get a little sole back in our lives before our two-man wolf pack could round out nearly two solid months on the road in Fayetteville, AR.

My epidermis was showing. This is a pretty natural, everyday occurrence for most but a lot more was on the line in this particular instance. I wasn't sure how I felt about taking off my shirt, with my near blinding shade of Midwest Pale it was a gutsy decision to make. But with the LA sun beating down early our first morning in the City of Angels (temperatures a balmy 70 degrees and rising), I hadn't run bare-chested in... well, I couldn't even tell you to be honest, but the idea of it was thrilling and somewhat dangerous too.

What if a passing vehicle along our Sepulveda BLVD route swerved off the road? Some innocent morning commuter who suddenly can't see after the white glare catches them square in the eyes?! I shuddered at the thought, but that idea quickly faded however, as Neal and I threw aside our tees and hit the pavement for the morning jaunt. As always, our feet provide the perfect natural vehicle for exploring and acclimatizing ourselves to the new places we venture in to.

Culver City our current stomping grounds.

Sitting just outside of LA, Culver City is quite the spot in its own right. At one time or another it was home to MGM studios, Hughes Aircraft Co., NPR West, and still the current home to a rather large Sony Studios. These solid, sound roots in the film and entertainment industry make it a significant historical landmark, and why I felt quite ignorant for not having hear of it before our arrival.

Actually, among many other tidbits of information shared by our unbelievably gracious hosts – Wayne and Mie Joness (Yes, with two S’s and the story behind it is priceless) – relates to the downtown hotel, which was actually where the Munchkins from Wizard of Oz spent their nights during shooting; rumor being that many of the future ‘Loli-poppers’ of America can trace their roots back to this establishment... But coming back to the present, some familiar TV shows that are filmed in Culver today include Deal or No Deal, Jeopardy, and Wheel of Fortune. Pretty sweet!

But why am I giving you a history lesson on a city in the greater LA area?

Well a few weekends ago now – for those who don’t know, as the race was overshadowed by other perhaps more prestigious European marathons (Rome for one) –was the LA Marathon. And in its inaugural of sorts (at least coming away that’s how it feels) it was a great success. I say ‘inaugural’ because this was the first time the course had taken this route, one that seems to have been a long time coming. LA being what it is, a course from the city to the ocean (LA to Santa Monica) was a difficult feat to establish. The various city councils that would make-up such a route could never in the same year agree to shut down their asked-upon and respective section of road. With the many sites and sounds that one would want to experience along the ‘perfect’ LA course, a route from downtown to the ocean would make this dream reality. So for the first time ever this 2010 course accomplished exactly that. And on top of the scenic views, it came to be a largely downhill 26.2. Can’t beat it, right?

But it actually gets better.

For starters, it was an outside expo in the shadow of Dodger Stadium and the weather was picture perfect. Not too hot or humid - sun filling the sky - it was a beautiful marathon event weekend. Working the expo I’d have to say it was one of the best I’ve yet to experience. The aforementioned conditions played a significant role, obviously, but it was the promotion, incredible fan support, and overall production that seemed to play out in seamless fashion.

With our only access to the course from our setup at the start, Neal and I couldn’t catch any more than the first mile (as it wrapped around and through the backside of the start parking lot). But while listening to the race broadcast over a local AM station, we listened closely as the announcers kept us in the loop to pace and play-out of the lead packs. The crowd support was unreal, as it was difficult to hear the mile-by-mile reports. But with the women starting 18:46 minutes ahead of the men, the ‘Challenge’ in place was to see if the men could catch the women: Who would cross the finish line first, male or female? This added excitement proved worthy of the anticipation as the female winner, Edna Kiplagat, took both her crown and the additional $100k for beating out the males to the tape! Wesley Korir, despite his 4:23-something last mile, was still unable to make up the difference on Kiplagat. But regardless, it was great to hear Korir get his back-to-back win, after taking the title last year in record time.

But by the end of the long week/weekend, after multiple pre-dawn wake-ups and 10-12 hours standing on the lot-G asphalt, we were worn out. Wayne, who manned the USATF SoCal Assocation tent both days (virtually alone for the first day) was right there with us. But we each had quite the success in our own right, selling well from our big setup at the entrance of the expo (Thank you Dave, Peter and crew for working with us and providing us with great exposure) while Wayne seemed to clean-up with both renewals and new member sign-ups.

So with the marathon over and the ‘real’ work behind us, we decided to take advantage of our close proximity to the beach, spending some righteous downtime between Redondo and Manhattan Beaches. Renting cruiser bikes and coasting along the Strand near the ocean from a second unbelievable accommodation with Wendy and Mike Stewart at their Burnham Beach House Cottage (brought to our attention via Airbnb.com, now co-run by newly retired Chris Lukezic) a block from Redondo Pier. The sun, waves and chill Cali people provided the much needed atmosphere and environment for our select two days off.

My Midwest Pale had turned a somewhat unnatural reddish-brown. The dangerous glare subdued, I took a last jaunt around the block near the Pacific; no longer worried of inflicting a sudden blindness to oncoming commuters. It felt good to get out on my feet and explore more unfamiliar territory, although somehow now feeling more and more like yet another home-away-from-home.

Neal and I don't have the right words to explain our appreciation, again, for what seems to be a dying generosity and openness that we were exposed to in both places we stayed. We would be more than honored stay again with Wayne and Mie (Domo arigato Joness'!) And Mike and Wendy, we certainly plan to be back.

But once again feeling like our young, sprite selves (maybe a bit too rejuvenated) Neal and I took off early the following week for the bright lights four hours north; up the I-15N to those big neon signs on the horizon, those attributable to The Strip, Sin City: Las Vegas . What happens in Vegas...