The New York City Marathon is like nothing else. It is one of the World’s iconic marathons, perhaps the World’s single most iconic marathon. Over 51,000 runners finished this year’s race – putting it almost 10,000 finishers ahead of Paris and Chicago, the second and third largest marathons in the world respectively. The event gets a tremendous amount of attention given its enormous size and famed legacy. Many recaps out there. You can see some fabulous aerial shots here.

When the New York marathon started in 1970, its origins were four laps around Central Park (BORING!). After six years, the race was outgrowing Central Park and race organizers were looking for something grander in celebration of the country’s bicentennial. In 1976, the race moved to the streets of New York City, encompassing all five boroughs, and redefining urban marathons. This year, marked the 40th anniversary of the five-borough marathon so it was fitting that I ran in the same year I’m celebrating the same birthday.

In the Spring I entered the race’s lottery on the off-chance I would get a bib. It didn’t happen and so I considered racing with a charity. In the ended, I decide to just wait and run it another year. About a month ago, and roughly four days after I signed up for the Venice Marathon, I got a call from United Airlines. As a title sponsor of the NYC Marathon, they had bibs they were offering to their elite members who hadn’t been able to get in through the lottery. Additionally they were throwing a swanky dinner the night before and would have a heated tent available at the start line. How could I say no?!!! Thank you United! I heart you!

Expo

Everything about the New York City marathon is crowded, starting with the Expo. Picking up my bib was actually pretty flawless, but the aisles of the expo were definitely full. This was my 7th marathon and my 7th expo. The excitement of a marathon expo is waning for me, but it is awesome and inspiring to see all of the runners – from first-time marathoners to seasoned veterans. The volunteers at the expo, and throughout the entire weekend, are amazing!

The Start  

Getting to the start takes foreeevvver if you are staying in Manhattan. I stayed near Columbus circle so I could walk back to my hotel after I finished. I took the 1 train to Whitehall, took the ferry across to Staten Island, and then a bus from the St. George terminal to the start of the race. There are runners everywhere! I came out of my hotel around 5:30 AM and the few people out on the street were runners. Our numbers grew in the subway at each and every stop and exploded as we flooded into the Staten Island ferry.

There is a tremendous show of security around the entire race. From the ferry it looked like we had an Coast Guard escort. Everyone had to go through strict security to get into the start area and there was an NYPD copter buzzing us as we came across the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge at the start.

State Island

The start is a village! There are tens of thousands of runners milling around. Dunkin Donuts was passing out free coffee. There were free bagels, water, and bananas in other places. Because it took so long to get to the start, I didn’t spend much time before moving to my corral. I did check out United’s tent (Go United!). The race started at 9:50AM but the corral closed at 9AM so I made my way in that direction. “Hurry to Wait” defines the first 4 hours before the marathon actually starts.

….and BOOM! There’s the cannon…we’re off!

Well sorta. I was at the back of my corral so I did a short step shuffle through the length of the corral with hundreds of other runners for about 8 minutes until we made it to the official start.

The Verrazano-Narrows Bridge is awesome. You run up it (YES!…UP!), but off to your left you have this amazing view of Manhattan. The harbor is filled with boats of a variety of sizes.

“This is awesome!”

“Look! There’s Manhattan! What an amazing view!”

“Look at the harbor! Look at the boats!”

“Look at all of the people in front of me!”

Brooklyn  

Coming down the bridge and into Brooklyn is awesome. The crowds are incredible. There was a big sign saying “Yo! Welcome to Brooklyn USA”

“all the runners with overgrown beards and mustaches are getting cheered way louder than anyone else….maybe if I run next to them I can pretend people are cheering for me…hey, this is totally working!…I’m so growing out a beard or moustache if I ever run this one again….”

“Wow, look at all of the hipster boutiques!..it’s gotten really expensive to look poor these days…”

“Hey! It’s the Meatball Shop! I love that place! Should I stop quickly?….”

“wow, the crowds are amazing! New Yorkers have really made this race THEIR race and they really make every runner feel like a New Yorker today!”

“My time looks good. These crowds are great! Maybe I can PR this race!…”

“how long is Brooklyn!…”

Queens

“A bridge! We must be finally moving into Queens…”

“…can we go back to Brooklyn?!! The crowds were so much better!”

“I can’t wait to get a black and white cookie after this is all over!”

“the Queensboro Bridge! We must be moving onto Manhattan on our way to the Bronx. Queens went fast!….”

“…this bridge sucks! It is soooooo quiet…..HEEELLLOOOO (echo, echo, echo)…”

Manhattan

Coming off the bridge, where no spectators are allowed, and turning the corner into Manhattan is just awesome. The crowds are great!

“hey!…I’ve run 16 miles and I just did that last mile in complete silence! EVERYONE CHEER!”

“wait!…60th street! The Bronx are around 135th aren’t they?!!!”

“SHAWN! Why were you talking about a PR!!!”

Bronx

“another turn?!!!….”

“if I see a deli selling black and white cookies I’m stopping!”

Manhattan

“The Madison Ave. Bridge! Back into Manhattan! The final stretch…”

“138th!!! I’ve got to run to 59th!…how many blocks is that?!….why can’t I do that math?!!….that’s simple math Shawn!!!…OH! I’ve run 21 miles that’s why I can’t do simple math!!!!…ok…just keep going”

“…PR?!!! Seriously?!!! You thought you were going to PR this?!!! What were you thinking?!!!”

“Why is 5th ave uphill!!!!”

“I want my black and white cookie!!”

“Can’t I cut through the park to the finish line?!!!!!”

At this point I’m delusional and swear I hear people cheering for “Shawn”

“Go Brian!”….

“did someone just say go Shawn?!”

“Go Susan!!…”

“did he just say “go Shawn?!”

“Go Peter!”

“how does everyone know my name?!!…”

“59th!!! I’m out of the park! the final stretch…almost there!”

The Finish

After crossing the finish line, they keep you walking another half mile in order to keep the finish line clear. Along the way they provide you a bag of drinks and snacks and a poncho before dumping you on Central Park West at 66th.

“when does this walking end?!!”

“why did I think it would be a good idea to get a hotel close enough to WALK!!! I don’t want to walk anymore!!!”

“I want a black and white cookie!!”

I walk down to Carnegie Deli to finally get my well earned black and white cookie….

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU ARE OUT OF BLACK AND WHITE COOKIES!!!!!!…”

We’ve long seen digital platforms utilized to form digital communities that mirror communities in the offline world. Facebook began with Harvard students before spreading to other universities and eventually opening to everyone over 13 with a valid email address. Scott Heiferman launched Meetup in 2002 after seeing New Yorkers come together in the aftermath of the September 11, 2001 attacks and waiting to create a way for strangers to connect within their communities. Shutterfly is a popular way for youth sport teams to share information and coordinate around practices and games. In almost all of these cases, these digital platforms are used to facilitate coordination and communication for offline groups and communities. Facebook for example, facilitates keeping up with friends from diverse parts of your life. In most cases, your Facebook connections are people you first met offline.

More recently, I’ve seen a trend towards rapid formation of temporary digital communities that don’t have an offline presence. Cloud services are enabling diverse, geographically-dispersed individuals to share well-specified information for a temporary period of time for a well-defined purpose. In most cases, these digital communities are made-up of strangers who will never connect offline.

One of the first examples of this trend materialized in the hours immediately after the 2013 Boston Marathon bombing. In those first hours of confusion and fear, the Boston Globe put up a Google Sheets to connect runners or others stranded in Boston with individuals in the greater Boston community offering housing, vehicles, or other support. The Boston Globe has kept that original Google Sheet online as a tribute to all of those who offered help. In this example, there was an offline purpose to the online coordination. More recently, I have noticed the formation of digital communities that don’t have an offline presence and likely never will. For example, customers who have ordered DJI’s recently released Mavic Pro drone are sharing their order and shipment details. Sharing digitized information over cloud services is creating temporary forming digital communities and increasingly these are not facilitating offline communities.

 

This morning a friend linked to a talk by Jill Thomas that has me thinking about green. Before moving to SoCal, Jill lived in Northern Virginia for a few years. In the early years of diving deeper into photography and building a budding business, she took some of my favorite family photos when she hauled her living room couch to an apple orchard. In the years following her move to SoCal, I sporadically followed her and her family and the mourning that they went through. It was special for me to hear her comments this morning and I found great truth in her observations.

Experiencing green opened my soul to the full color gamut of life and the realization that we are known individually. Deep, profound heartache comes in many shades of green. After experiencing my own shade of green, I more fully see those who have experienced green, even if our greens look different from the outside.

Jill talks about the paradoxical nature of life – where apparent contradictory forces provide us seemingly inconsistent, conflicting, clashing emotions.

In the paradox, diametrically opposed emotions coexist. These seemingly antipodal emotions exert force on us, shaping us, in a not always harmonious way, but the result is a deep shade of green where greater sorrow bears greater happiness. A coexistence of seemingly antithetical emotions that produces profound peace. And we learn, or I did at least, that seeing green is less about seeing and more about experiencing. Experiencing green in the most breath-taking, earth shattering, art museum of life’s experiences.

Life also offers a second, related paradox. I would never want blue or yellow. I feel a deep existence in green. I find deeper sorrow, greater empathy, and more full joy in green. In green I see greater understanding and deeper forgiveness. I experience more purposeful regret. I find lasting in green. I find grander eternal perspective in green. As Jill remarks in her close, there is a place for you here and you are needed. I feel that at a very deep level. And the paradox for me is this: I would never want anything but green and while I want others to know the deepness that green can be, I don’t want others to experience the heartache and suffering, agony and hurt that is so often the door to green.

I don’t see the blues or yellows much anymore, but in the greens find profound purpose and endless eternities.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JPv-B0wn6F0

If I look deep within the innermost of my soul, deep into the darkest deepest crevasses of my heart, I’m scared. I’m scared of relationships. I’m scared of commitment I suppose.

I’m scared that I will fail the person I have come to love deeply. I’m scared that I will fall short. That I won’t show love as deeply as I feel it. That love won’t be received as deeply as I seek to covey it.

I’m scared that I will never be all that I would want to be for the person I have grown to love so deeply.

And so this friction exists within my naked quintessential quiddity. Wanting to love deeply, to love unconditionally. To strive, to work, to built something marvelous and grand and long lasting. And in the same breath I fear.

And so I wrestle within my secret self. I wrestle with these two seemingly contrariant forces that hold equilibrium within the recesses of my heart. The confluence of two seemingly opposite forces – the one feeding vulnerability, openness, and acceptance while the other breeds fear, doubt, consternation, and trepidation. One drawing me in, one pushing me out, never feeling like I have the panoptic panorama of all that could be.

I fear to love, because I fear to hurt that which I love the most.

 

With my sixth marathon in the books (all in the last 12 months), I thought I’d start offering a quick recap of the races. I’ll start with the one I just finished and if I make the time, will go back and try to provide recaps of the first five marathons. I often get asked which marathon I’ve liked best, but every race is different and unique and I’ve loved them all for different reasons (and yes I’ve hated them all for the running part!).

I’ve been eyeing the Venice Marathon for about a year now. After running the 2015 Marine Corp Marathon (my first marathon!) last October, I fell into a conversation with someone on the metro ride back to my office. He was in the US Army and while stationed in Europe, had run 20+ races there. I asked him which one was his favorite to which he replied emphatically, “Venice!” He left no doubt that of the 20+ marathons he had done in Europe, Venice was the one that took the cake. And with that, I decided if I was ever going to run a marathon in Europe, I might as well do the best one! For anyone who’s ever been to Venice, you can imagine that it is a perfect setting for a gorgeous and scenic race, and HELLO!! carb loading in Italy?!! YES!!

Each Fall I travel to Europe to speak at a series of events CTA hosts to promote CES – the greatest tech event in the world. This year, we hosted CES Unveiled Prague on Thursday October 20th and CES Unveiled Paris on Tuesday October 25th.  This meant I had the weekend between these two great events free….and I was in Europe! In the past I’ve used that weekend to explore a country I haven’t visited yet. A few years back, I had an amazing weekend in Estonia. Having spent several years living and traveling in Europe, I’ve been lucky to have spent time throughout Europe and adjacent countries (hello Turkey!). It so happened that the Venice Marathon was scheduled for the very weekend I was going to be in Europe. But I remained undecided on what I wanted to do. Go to Latvia or Lithuania? What about Serbia or Ukraine? About a month ago I finally signed up for the Venice Marathon and began making travel arrangements.

I arrived in Prague on Wednesday morning. For my first five marathons I didn’t do a lot of extra carb loading during the week ahead of the marathon. I would do some carb loading 48 hours before and then focus on proteins in the day before the race. A few articles I’ve read recently suggest adding extra carbs into your diet during the week prior to the race is the better way to carb load. As it turns out, Prague is the perfect place to carb load! I had delicious  goulash with fresh breads and incredible roasted potatoes. I had superb meals at U Zlate Konvice (order the Grilled Knuckle of Pork) and Mlejnice (incredible potatoes!).

In the week before a marathon, I try to do a shakeout run of 4-8 miles each day. I’ll typically taper the distance as I get closer to the race. Traveling threw that off a bit, but early Thursday morning I did squeeze a great run in through the old city and around Prague Castle. I also was able to do a fair amount of walking around the city on Wednesday and Friday morning. After a very successful CES Unveiled Thursday followed by dinner at the Ambassador’s house (AMAZING house!), I caught a flight to Venice on Friday morning.

After figuring out my way to Venice from the airport (I opted for the 20 minute bus ride over a 90 minute boat ride), I walked the half mile or so to my hotel. I was staying at a hostel right on the Fodamenta Zattere al Ponte Longo and didn’t realize until I checked in that the marathon would run right past where I was staying. It was nice to get to see some of the course in advance of running it. After checking in at my hotel, I had planned to go pick up my race bib and packet, but first…I’M IN ITALY!…to run a marathon!!! Time to carb load! I ate incredibly well over the entire weekend! I started with Pizza for lunch – eating outside at a little place along the Fodamenta Zattere al Ponte Longo. For dinner Friday night I ate at Trattoria San Basilio – a cute little place just down from my hotel. I had gone for a run around the city and was going there for dinner before going back to my hotel to shower. The owner of the restaurant saw me walking outside through the open door of the restaurant and called me in. He didn’t speak English, and since I don’t speak any Italian, I have no idea what he said. But he kept going on and on, mentioning the marathon, and giving me enthusiastic high-fives so I can only presume that he was being extremely supportive and kind….or perhaps he was calling me completely crazy for running a marathon!

One more quick trip recap and then I’ll dive into the details of the actual marathon. On Saturday I woke up early because I wanted to see the sun rise around Venice. Venice gets completely overrun by tourists and early morning is the perfect time to explore. The shops are closed and the streets are empty. I posted photos of my morning on IG. I went back to my hotel around 9AM and had some breakfast. In the early afternoon I took a boat to Burano, an island about 4KM, and 45 minutes via boat, north of Venice. It is a small, gorgeous island with colorfully painted homes. After wandering the island and getting dessert in the most amazing little Italian bakery (yes, I went back for seconds!), I was planning to eat at Al Gatto Nero which gets incredible reviews. It was 6PM and the restaurant didn’t open for dinner until 7:30PM. They also said they were completely booked for the night. In other circumstances I might have tried back at 7:30PM in hopes they could squeeze me in, but I didn’t want to wait until 7:30PM to eat because I still had to take the ferry back to Venice and didn’t want to get back too late. I ended up eating at Riva Rosa and had a truly incredible meal. The fish is caught daily in the waters off the island and tasted incredibly fresh! Normally I would have steak the night before a marathon, but when in Italy! I ended up walking 20 miles wandering around Venice and Burano. Now on with my thoughts about the marathon.

Overall Thoughts on the Race

This was my first European race so I can only compare it to the other US marathons I’ve run. Overall it was a good event. Some information I’m accustomed to seeing for US marathons was completely absent for this marathon. For example, I’m still not sure how many runners participated in the race. I heard from another runner it was around 7,000, but I haven’t seen that noted anywhere.  I really liked several things about how the race was organized and would love to see a US marathon incorporate some of those things. There were also several things lacking, that I would have liked to see. I make note of both below.

Overall Score/Grade

B+

Crowd Support 

A-

The crowd is incredible supportive and would deserve an A+. One of the better crowds I’ve seen. In each of the towns you run through, both sides of the street are crowded and people are cheering from open windows and balconies that overlook the course. However, the course includes the long bridge to Venice as well as some minor industrial areas outside of Venice and those sections are completely void of spectators.

Overall Course Support

Great support on the course. Signage was great everywhere. Every kilometer was marked. Roads were blocked and the course was well cordoned off in all the right places. I loved that every kilometer was well marked. It made it feel like it was going by so much faster. I wish US marathons would mark kilometers as well. Plus, it gave me mental math to do as I ran.

They had support every 5KMs. Water for the first two stations and then they added a sports drink and fruit in the following stations. They gave the water in full water bottles and not paper cups so that really threw me off at first and was something I had to get used to. They only had energy gels at one support stop (mile 20). I was expecting gels earlier. Along with the fruit at stops 15KM, 20KM, and 25KM, they did have these small bars, about the size of a hotel soap, that tasted like, and had the same consistency of, fruit roll-ups. With no gel, I grabbed those a couple of times I ran by a support table. I have no idea what was in them, but they did the metal trick (if not physical as well).

Good support at the finish line. They give you a single tied grocery bag that contained an apple, an orange, a banana, a water, a sports drink, a juice, and a beer. They had showers available – the first time I’ve seen that, but I didn’t have time to check them out. They also had massages available – which were AMAZING!

Registration, Health Form, Website and Email Communication

I’m not one that pays a lot of attention to all of the emails I get from race organizers, to their chagrin I’m sure. I tend to wait until the days right before the race to get all of the details I might need. Since this was my first international race, I paid closer attention to everything in the weeks leading up to the race.  I thought the pre-race communication was pretty good. It is a very international race that attracts runners throughout Europe and beyond. Emails would contain links to information available in several different languages.

The race was easy to register for. I was required to submit a health form which was new to me. I get the impression it is very common for European races, but I have never seen a similar requirement for US marathons. Luckily I had recently gotten my annual physical so I was able to simply email the form to my doctor and then upload it when she emailed it back. In subsequent emails I received from the race organizers, I was able to see they had all of the required paperwork on file through a red/yellow/green light system they used.

One thing the website lacks is a course map. In fact, I couldn’t find a course map anywhere nor could I find an elevation profile. The website offers a written description of the course which isn’t very helpful. I don’t normally care about reviewing the course map in advance, but it would have been nice to see generally where I was going to run through the city.

Expo

The expo was held in a temporary structure erected in San Giuliano Park. It was not a big expo. There were roughly 75 exhibitors, though many were pretty small. The list of exhibitors included Garmin, Asics, Brooks, Yakult, some banks and insurance companies, and even one fresh produce/fruit vendor. There was maybe 15 or so other marathons exhibiting, many of which I had never even heard of. The only marathon from the US was the Los Angeles Marathon, which had one of the biggest exhibit booths of anyone at the Expo. They had with them the 2015 finisher’s medal and it is HUGE! There is definitely a trend towards bigger metals. There were few free samples. I didn’t linger long after picking up my packet. You were able to try on the shirt and then pick the size that fit. I appreciated that.

Still no course map! I figured there would be a course map somewhere in the expo. Nothing! It doesn’t exist!

Transportation to the Start

Public buses took us from a staging area in a remote area of Venice (about a mile walk from my hotel) to the start. I caught one of the earlier buses and got to the start about two hours before the official start.

The Start img_2928 

The race didn’t start until 9:30AM which felt like a really late start. The San Francisco Marathon started at 5:30AM which I really liked because it meant  I was done before 9:30AM. It was cold in the hours before the start so I warm clothes and for the first time checked a bag at the race. In the past I’ve always just brought what I needed or was going to discard along the course.

The race starts in Stra at the Villa Pisani. The grounds are open, which is awesome, and I spent most of my time before the race wandering around and loosing up my legs. They had big temporary tents with long benches. They also were serving warm tea. The corral organization was better than I’ve seen at other races. They had an entry for each corral. They also kept a lot of open space between the corrals so you could stay warm while you were waiting for the race to start. I really liked that. In other races, you are crammed in like cattle until the start.

Once the race started it felt like they let all of the corrals go at the same time. I would have liked to see them hold each corral for a minute or two to help spread out the racers a bit more. The first couple kilometers were crowded as a result.

My intent was to run this pretty casually and take lots of pictures along the way. In the end, I was a little more aggressive and set my Garmin for 3:30. I times for 3:20 and 3:40 on my wrist and figured I’d shoot for something between 3:30 and 3:40.

 

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Miles 1-12:

Course felt like it started a bit slow out of the gate because of the large number of people, but the first 5 miles are great. Really the first 12-15 miles are great. Course opened up after the first mile or so. Course is flat and wide and the road is completely closed. In the first two miles you hit the little town of Fiesso d’Artico. Everyone had come out to line the course and cheer us on. This is repeated throughout the first 15 miles as you work through Dolo, Mira, Oriago, and Malcontenta. The Naviglio Del Brenta (Brenta canal) is on your right at the start and follows the course for most of the first 12 miles. around mile 12 you hit a little industrial area, but move through it pretty quickly.

I’m feeling great for the first 12 miles. There aren’t a lot of pictures to take so I just keep running and I’m on a 7:33 pace through the first 12 miles. I’m now starting to think I could run a PR (I know, mistake right?!).

Miles 13-17:

I ran the first half in 1:40:11 – Garmin tells me I’m about 9 minutes ahead of time and tracking around a 3:20 pace – which would be about 5 minutes faster than my fastest marathon (Philly 2015). By now I’m really wondering if I could do it. I run miles 13-17 at a 7:32 pace.

Miles 18-20:

Things start to slow here. Miles 19 and 20 are through a park and double back on themselves. WHY?!!! I hate when I can see the course 200 feet to my side, but have to run two miles of turns and twists to get there. I average 7:51 through these three miles. I pick up my only gel of the day.

Miles 21-24:

“These miles suck!”
“I hate running!!!”
“I’m never doing this again!”
“I CAN’T FEEL MY LEGS!!!! WHY CAN’T I FEEL MY LEGS??!!!!”
“If I was an ancient king, I would make prisoners run marathons as the most horrible form of punishment!”

Miles 21-24 are across the loooong bridge into Venice and through the port area where the cruise lines dock. It is an abyss! It is no man’s land! it was horrible and it came at the worst time in a marathon. I averaged 8:49/mile for this section.

Miles 25-26:

Finally into the main city of Venice! Water on my right!  I’m on the Fodamenta Zattere al Ponte Longo! There’s Trattoria San Basilio! There’s my hotel! Why are my legs still not working?!!!…..OH NO, BRIDGES!!!!

The last two miles you cross 14 (!!!!) canal bridges! They place wooden ramps up and down both sides so you don’t have to run stairs (COULD YOU EVEN IMAGINE TRYING TO RUN STAIRS AFTER 24 MILES!!!). But even with the ramps, its torture. After 24 miles, everything feels like a big hill.

The best part of the entire Venice marathon is running into San Marco square. Even though you double back on your self, running in and then back out of the square, there are so many people cheering for you that it makes up for it. With the barricades and throngs of people, its the first time I’ve felt like I was in a real race. The cheering is intense and awesome.

Throughout the race people were yelling what I thought sounded like, “david! david!” and I thought, “wow there are a lot of Davids in this race!” It was only after 3 hours that I realized they must be yelling something in Italian. The best I can figure out is, “va! va!” not “da!vid!,” but I don’t know for sure.

As I was running over one of the final bridges the Garmin 3:30 pace group caught up with me and passed me. I tried to stay with them, but fell back by a few steps. After coming over the last bridge, you have about 200 yards to the finish line. I picked-up my pace and tried to sprint (or what felt like a sprint in my mind)  to the finish line – especially when I saw the clock ticking towards 3:30. I ran the last 2.2 miles in a 8:55/mile pace.

Overall, I’m happy with the race. I’m generally less concerned with my overall time and more interested in negative splits. I was bummed I didn’t have negative splits, but generally happy with the time. I finished in 3:29:44. I banked about 9 minutes in the first half and gave most of it back in the second half, but generally happy with the run.

It was a good race in a great city. a great first international race. Now onto the New York City Marathon in two weeks.

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“It will only take a minute,” she remarked before offering a litany of reasons why she should go, why she could go. Why it would be okay to go. We stood together in one of several patient rooms inside the ICU, tucked into the interior burrow of the hospital. The lack of an outside window exacerbated the stale white walls and the artificial glow of florescent bulbs. The lack of natural light, confused day from night and night from reality.

My father lay on the bed before us, in and out of a murky mix of awareness and sleep. Rousing, stirring, a day in and day out cycle of varying states of awareness all blending and blurring into one never-quite-defined continuous existence. He would lay there for 14 days, becoming increasingly unsettled, uncomfortable; before causes that baffled teams of doctors would ultimately, eventually, and always far too soon, take his final breath. Deep within our subconsciousness we knew the possibility. One always senses the nearness of death in the staleness of hospital corridors. Perhaps we even knew it was to be our reality this time, though one rarely vocalizes that sentiment for fear it will dampen the perception of hope and faith.

“I’ll be back soon,” she said softly as she prepared to go. She gathered her things – an assuming jacket, a practical handbag she’d likely had for years. I took the opportunity to stress again that she didn’t need to go. The uncertainty and anxiety of the situation that was our life at that moment bred discontent and momentary impulsive aggravation. Someone else could go. She was always going somewhere to help someone, ten thousand unseen acts of service and this time, with my father, her husband of almost 45 years, lying there before us, someone else could go. But she was asked, and had committed, and so she went. It was a simple request really. A ride for someone in need. Not a lifelong friend. Not a neighbor. It was someone she barely knew. Ten thousand acts of selfless service to thousands of people she barely knows. A simple ride someone else could have given in this moment. She could find someone else. They could find someone else. Someone else could help. They would understand. Was my mother herself not now in need and yet still she goes to help others? But the weight of my logic, my emotion in that moment, never dissuades her from helping those in need. Someone needed help, and so she gave no heed to her own needs. She gave no heed to heartache and anxiety and stress. She simply went and quietly, always quietly, performed the simple sacrifices that place others before herself.

On another occasion a neighbor returns home from a long day at work. She remarks hurriedly that she had asked her husband to mow the lawn while she was away and he hadn’t gotten to it as she surveys the still uncut grass. But it would not prove to be apathy or dilatoriness that led to his inaction. A massive heartache in their home had taken his life in the hours between her departure and return from work. The neighbor would eventually leave that evening to stay with nearby friends for the night. The next morning, without appeal or application, without fanfare or hype, my mother would mow the neighbor’s lawn before her return. My 72 year-old mother pushing a lawnmower that it might lighten in the smallest ways the burden of loss.

And still there would be more service to render. There was blood from the fall that hadn’t been cleaned. Quietly, selflessly, faithfully, on her hands and knees my 72 year-old mother would take a cloth and a bucket of water and clean so a grieving and addled wife wouldn’t have to.

The vividness of this moment, the sting it leaves on my heart, leaves me amazed at the depths of her humility and dedication to others. Here is a woman, who has suffered acutely from arthritis over long periods, on her hands and knees in the service of others. With each pass of her cloth across the hard grey cement does she not feel the pain and discomfort in her knees and hands? In this private moment does she not wince in agony as the physical limitations of her body stab at her? This woman has worn herself out in the service of others, and here we find her on her hands and knees.

For my mother, service is not boxes to be checked. While we might say, “we’ve done enough,” for her “enough” doesn’t exist because there is always service to render. Her life has been a constant and continuous outpouring of selfless service. Of quiet acts. Of doing and going before one can be recognized or thanked or cast into the limelight. Her’s is a life filled with unsimple acts done simply.

If I have done anything good in this life, if I possess any remotely redeeming feature or characteristic, it is completely attributable to my mother and the example she constantly provides. I aspire to be like her. To service continuously. To do so quietly. To quickly and constantly, invariably and unmovingly, serve has she has. Without hesitation, without consideration for herself.

Each year, I develop a presentation that examines trends to watch at CES. I presented an early draft of that presentation this week in Prague. I’ll update this presentation as I develop it further. In the coming weeks I’ll write more about these trends. In the meantime, you can find the current iteration of my CES 2017 Trends to Watch here or see it below:

Earlier this week I spoke at an event looking at the Digital Destiny of Arlington, Virginia. You can see the conversation in its entirety here:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F-7O8m4SEA8

 

 

 

One night last week I found myself weighed down with the swirling emotions of mind and soul. Worried I wasn’t being all that I so desperately and deeply want to be. Stressed and distracted by an upcoming court hearing after Andrea filed a motion to quibble over 2-4 days of the boys’ visitation schedule, though they are with her for 80 percent of the year. Remiss that the summer was drawing to a close. Wondering if I’d done all I could for my boys this summer. Wondering if I had done any good. Had I taught them? Had they learned? Had we laughed? Had we loved? Had we experienced the beauty and bounty of life? 

I had sketched out some of my feelings. To clear my mind. To solidify my thinking. The therapy of fingers on computer keys, letters making words, and words lightening the soul. 

And then come the sweet moments and tender mercies of life. 

A normal evening. Three boys. Diverse needs. A previously requested baked potato, a bedtime snack, now ready, is placed on a plate and sprinkled with cheese. Another request from upstairs echoes and bounces and reverberates to me. I tell son #3 his baked potato is ready and set it on the table. I head upstairs to scratch son #2’s back until he falls asleep. We look at new sneakers for a new school year, talk about the day behind us, the new one before us, and I scratch his back. 

As the deep steady breathing of sleep overtakes the uneven stroke of my hand on his back, I slip off to order shoes. Sons number 1 and 2 have put themselves in bed. I vocalize my love for each of them. I trail downstairs and turn the browser to Footlocker. 

Moments later I hear little footsteps.  Son #3 works his way down a few stairs until I am fully within his view. He leans over the railing and says, “dad, I read what you wrote and I think your best is more than enough…”

Tears swell within my eyes as the familiarity of the vernacular sinks in. I look next to my computer to see the remnants and remains of a now cold baked potato and realize son #3 must have somehow seen,  while I had been scratching backs and looking at Lebrons, what I had written out in previous sitting.  

Though still a draft, with a single comment from a child, it suddenly felt complete. Both imperfectly unfinished and perfectly complete. As if the unfinished complemented the finished to form something entirely new. I leave it here, suspended in that condition. An incomplete, imperfect draft made whole with a comment from the stairs. Previously in that seat I had been contemplating fatherhood, trying to find words for the emotions I felt and the things that were weighing on me. But in this moment, the small interactions that only parenthood provides, I experienced all the joy and peace that is fatherhood.  

After our short exchange, #3 beckons me upstairs to bed. While he’s falling asleep I say aloud “I love you so much” to which his little voice replies, as he purposely inhales one last breath before drifting off to sleep, “I know.” 

Reflections on Fatherhood

I often worry I’m not doing enough. To be sure, I am trying to do all I can. I am trying to do all within my power. In trying my best, I often feel my best isn’t enough. I worry my best isn’t sufficient. I worry all I’ve got isn’t enough for the three most amazing young men in this remarkable world. I love them more than anything and I worry they aren’t learning all they should or internalizing all they could. I worry they aren’t learning the art of hard work. I worry they don’t internalize the right lessons from discipline. I worry they’ll remember the bad times and forget the good ones. I worry they fail to hear how much I love them in all that I do for them and all that I try to provide. I worry they miss the “I love you” of back scratches and other trival measures. I worry they don’t see the plight of those around them. I worry they aren’t developing empathy

To My Sons on Father’s Day

I have three sons. As a result of divorce, I don’t see our three sons daily. I do see them frequently. Not every day of every week, but in some weeks every day. It is a tremendous blessing. I’m at their baseball games, lacrosse games, football games, swim meets, basketball games. I go to their art shows. I go to other events at school. I have lunch with them at school every week. I volunteer in their classrooms. I’ve been the mystery reader so many times in my son’s 2nd grade class, that it’s not a mystery to anyone anymore. Even second graders intuitively understand probability and likelihood. We go to church together every week. They are with me Wednesday after school and every other weekend. They are with me for half the holidays and half the summer.

I try to be at the crossroads for my boys. I cheer them on. I encourage them. I talk to them when they need me. Like most dads, I also talk to them when they don’t want it. I hope they see all of this as my unconditional love for them and my hope for their wellbeing.

I will miss all of these moments when they are older, but I also look forward to the relationship that will develop as we age. There is something extremely delicate about balancing being present in the present, looking forward to the future, and longing for the past. As humans we are not always perfect at finding the balance between those three diverse and powerful states of mind and at different times fall into one of those three spheres more heavily. Too heavily. The balance is something I am always working on.

I optimize on them with every decision I face. I try at least. I’m surely not flawless and I’m constantly fighting off self-doubt. I’m filled with massive amounts of self-doubt around Fatherhood and love (and probably a million other things).

I don’t get to pick what they remember of me, or remember of anything. Memories are funny things in that way. We remember some things while forgetting others. We focus on some things while glossing over others. We don’t get to decide what our children remember, but we do get to decide whether it is a good memory or a bad one. I have influence on how they remember things. I get to decide what role I play in those memories. Was I patient with them? Did I listen to them? Did they feel heard? Did they feel loved unconditionally? Did I teach them good principles and let them govern themselves? Did they feel guidance? Did they feel autonomy and freedom of choice? Did they see what they could have done differently rather than just blaming others for a given outcome or interaction? Am I helping them along the path of self-mastery?

I write each of my boys a letter every week. I’ve missed a week here and there. When they are with me in August for example, I generally don’t write them. But by and large, I write them every week. It’s one of those trade-offs life gives us. One of those tender mercies of life. I’m optimistic, perhaps even bordering on idealism and romanticism. I like to see the good in experiences and the good in people. I like to see the good in all that life throws at us. I believe in the perennial art of making lemonade.

Growing up with parents who are divorced will give my sons different experiences than they might have gotten had their mom and I been able to work through all that life threw at us. So often people see only the negatives. The loss that occurs because of divorce. I can see those too. I have felt those losses deeply. But I also see positives, even for my three sons. Or perhaps I’ve tried to create positives to offset the negatives. Experiences they wouldn’t have gotten had their parents stayed married. Lessons they might have never learned.

My weekly letters to them are one of those things I’ve created. I hope they are positive (did I mention massive self-doubt??). By the time my youngest son graduates High School, he will have some 500 letters from me. I hope these letters can be a positive force in their lives. I hope these letters can give them something – if not now, then sometime later in their lives. Imperfect words of advice from their imperfect dad. Above all else, I hope these letters show each of them just how deeply I love them.

My three boys are perfect to me in that imperfect kind of way. They aren’t as polite as they should be. They aren’t as empathetic to each other as I’d like them to be. They should be kinder to their mom at different times. These are all things we are working on. It’s a slow work. And I often think that I’ll only know if I’ve done any good some twenty years from now. Perhaps even longer. Fatherhood is a long exercise. A patience exercise. You get flashes of feedback, but for the most part you have no idea if you’ve done any good until they themselves reach the age of fatherhood.

As I reflect on my own fatherhood, today on Father’s Day, here are some of the things I want my sons to always know.

To My Sons on Father’s Day

Know that I am proud of you. Know that I love you unconditionally. Know that I believe in you. You can accomplish anything you put your mind to. I truly believe that. Know that I think about you constantly. I reflect incessantly on your wellbeing. I wonder if I’m doing all I can. Am I showing you how much I love you? Am I teaching you the things you need to learn. How to tie a tie. How to score a baseball game. How to drive stick. These are all lost arts in America today. But especially this last one. You really need to know how to drive manual.

Know that I believe in you. Beyond the baseball fields. Beyond the basketball courts. Beyond anything and everything you accomplish in school, I believe in you. I believe you can be a source of good in a world that is progressively in need of good people doing good things. I believe you know the difference between right and wrong. Your resolve to choose right needs to be concrete in the years and decades to come.

Know that you are very different than your brothers just as they are different from you. I love your differences. At the same time you share many things. You share loving parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins. You are surrounded by people who love you dearly. I know at times you might feel like you want to escape this lovefest! My hope is that this love grounds you. I hope that it steadies you.

There will always be storms in your life. Hopefully not constant storms, but inevitably, unavoidably, unescapably, unsurprisingly there will be storms. They will build on the horizon and attack you unexpectedly. I pray that these storms will be short. I pray that the love I have for you, the faith I have in you, will ground you in these moments.

You have countless people who are invested in you. I hope you see the great lengths to which all of these people go on your behalf. See the good. Find the good. Seek the good. Replicate the good.

I am grateful for every moment I have with you. I hope you see in these moments my love for you. I hope in these moments you see that I always chose you. Sitting on the coach, xBox remote in hand, losing to you badly, I hope you see my eternal love for you. Jumping on the trampoline with you until you want to move on to other things, I hope you see my eternal love for you. Playing with you in the pool and letting you stand on my back while you pretend to surf, I hope you see my eternal love for you. When I’m in the stands cheering for you or at the school helping, I hope you see my love for you. In all of the experiences I try to provide, from camping to traveling, I hope you see the eternal love and hope I have for you.

My greatest ambition for you, my greatest hope, is that you are simply better than me. I think every father hopes to raise boys that are better than themselves. I hope that you are kinder, wiser, and more empathetic. I hope you work harder and smarter. I hope you are more aware of others. More willing to give of yourself. I hope you are a better father and husband than I have been. I hope the mistakes you make in life are less pronounced than the mistakes I’ve made or will make. I hope you can take the good in your mom and I and build upon it. I hope you can cast off the areas where we simply aren’t that good yet. In a single word, I hope you are better than I am. In that single accomplishment, I will feel like I have been successful and I will feel like you are on your way.

Do not delay the decision to choose the right until the choice is before you. By then, it is too late. Choose today to be someone who always chooses the right. Protect those who can’t protect themselves. Serve others unconditionally. Be kind no matter how you are treated. Do these things because they are good. Do these things because it is right. Don’t look for reciprocity in life. The reward for doing good, being kind, and choosing the right is self-awareness that you did all you could. Mindfulness that you gave all you had.

In a recent letter I outlined a few things I hope you can internalize as you grow older. You won’t do all of these perfectly at all of the time. You probably won’t do any of them perfectly any of the time. But life is about striving. And specifically striving to do good. I hope these can act as waymakers as you work through life and establish your identity.

  • DuBravacs are cognizant of others and their feelings
  • DuBravacs value meaningful fun together
  • DuBravacs love working. We have strong work ethic. We work hard, especially on behalf of others
  • DuBravacs are charitable. We help others and we serve others.
  • DuBravacs are empathetic. We are aware of the plight of others.
  • DuBravacs support each other. We build each other up. We take the time and effort to build people up.
  • DuBravacs Stick-up for each other
  • DuBravacs are kind and compassionate
  • DuBravacs have a strong instinct to obey God
  • DuBravacs have a joyful attitude
  • DuBravacs are physically active
  • DuBravacs love and respect nature
  • DuBravacs value family
  • DuBravacs respect their mother
  • DuBravacs value education. We are lifetime learners.
  • DuBravacs do not resort to physical violence.
  • DuBravacs love to travel and learn from the experiences that travel affords
  • DuBravacs are creative. We look for non-obvious approaches.
  • DuBravacs are problem solvers.
  • DuBravacs are humble and we approach others with humility.
  • DuBravacs are good listeners.
  • DuBravacs are respectful.
  • DuBravacs are generous in all things. We share and are kind.
  • DuBravacs talk through issues. We talk through our emotions. We talk about tough subjects in an open way.
  • DuBravacs seek to live a life of integrity.
  • DuBravacs have a mutual understanding of what things we prioritize, how we solve problems, and what really matters.

Certainly we could add to this list. And I hope you will. As you define who you are, you will in turn be defining who we are.

I love you. More than any letter could ever convey.

Love,
Dad