Catching My 2nd Wind (Chill)

This was not the blog entry entry I had planned to write today. In fact, I had something else on a completely different topic finished and ready to post. But as I've experienced quite a bit lately, situations - and goals - can quickly change. I personally witnessed this fact firsthand last Saturday as I stepped outside before sunup to check the weather conditions before preparing to leave for the Frostbite Series half-marathon (13.1 miles) in the park. After breathing in a lung-searing dose of wintery air, I checked the temperature on the Internet - 12° with a wind chill of -7°.

Now I've run in some cold races in my day. I reflected back to the 1994 Chicago Marathon that began with a comfortable temperature in the 50s before the city lived up to its windy nickname and blew in a cold front (don't say front) dumping a bone-chilling mixture of snow and sleet on me as I hobbled the final six miles along Lake Shore Drive. A woman, who obviously felt my pain or simply couldn't bare to watch a grown man both shiver AND cry, gave me her jacket with a toasty fur collar. As I crossed the finish line that day, I wasn't sure if my fellow runners were laughing at me because I was swaddled in a woman's jacket, or because the brown suede clashed horribly with the yellow Nike running shirt I was wearing beneath it . . . I'll never know for sure.

Anyway, let's leave that disturbing vision behind - permanently - and return to our present-day story. As I bundled up in my layers of dri-fit clothing (not running was never an option) and arrived at the starting line, I reminded myself that I was running this series of races simply to get a training base for the big races coming this spring, summer and fall. I plan on running the St. Louis Half-Marathon in April, during which I hope to run a time that will qualify me for a top starting position at the Chicago Marathon this October and also qualify me for the New York City Marathon (my favorite race!) in November. For today's race, I was in survival mode - simply finishing in these conditions would be victory in itself.

After the first mile, I realized I couldn't feel my legs. Not in a bad, hurtful way, I simply couldn't feel them. I also noticed that ice crystals formed on the back of my throat with every breath - an odd feeling but kinda cool in a weird sort of way. I tucked in with a group of runners to try to stay out of the wind and learned that they were teenager members of a local high school cross-country team. They didn't seem to mind that a father figure was in their midst and keeping pace with their youthful strides.

At mile marker 8, I veered off the course to grab a G-2 (Gatorade) bottle out of the back of my truck. I took a quick swig and glanced at my watch. What? I was actually well ahead of my planned pace and my mind and body felt as if the race had just begun. Jumping back on the road, I began to pick up the pace even further and felt better than I have all year. I pondered a headline of a magazine article I had read earlier in the week that asked the provocative question, "Why now? Why not!" and couldn't decide if the chills I was feeling were from inspiration or the howling wind (I decided it was a bit of both). I'm not sure if the daunting elements had taken all the pressure off of me, or if my off-season training had finally starting to come together but as I glanced up at the digital clock at the finish line, I was happily startled to realize that I had just qualified for my coveted top 1000 starting position at the Chicago Marathon and will need to shave off just three more minutes of time in April to qualify for New York City.

Walking back to my truck, I realized that too often in life, I have my mind made up of how things are supposed to be and when there are supposed to happen. This race result was an exciting revelation and lesson to me - why not seize every opportunity as you have it? Why not go for it when the odds seem against you? Why put a timetable on your goals? Just as I caught my second wind at mile 8, I am ready to catch my second wind in all aspects of my life and am open to all of the possibilities and blessings the universe has to offer. And remember . . . that woman's coat story is just between us . . . okay?

Extra Mileage
Murphy continues to stay busy with his photography and recently sold another one of his photos, this time to an advertising agency. Check out his latest work at: http://flickr.com/photos/murphyr

Little Aubs's latest fascination is a big bag of popcorn at the movies (she takes after Jackie, me and Murph!). We found that she can be bribed to watch even non-animated movies, such as "Bride Wars" last weekend (love that Anne Hathaway) with this tasty, salty treat!

Thanks for reading and talk to you soon. Until next time, remember to pick up the pace and run your own race.

- Jeff

Monday Morning Musings

Even days later, I am still in utter astonishment pondering the events that occurred during last week's "Miracle On The Hudson." In an era in which we are constantly bombarded with negative politics, gruesome murders, and detailed reports on unsavory situations and characters, how refreshing it was to witness the heroic actions of pilots, crew, passengers, FDNY, NYPD, and private ferry crews that resulted in beautiful stories of life taken from a seemingly hopeless situation. Bravo to Captain "Sully" Sullenberger and all those involved in the rescue of US Airways Flight 1549 who inspired the people of New York City, the nation, and the world!


Anyone else find it amusing or ironic that on a day when our nation was covered in a virtual modern ice age of wintery weather and worldwide we are experiencing one of the coldest seasons in a century, our president-to-be proudly appointed a "global warming" czar? Now I like to think of myself as a reasonable conservationist, but I couldn't tell if the shivers I was experiencing upon hearing the news were from uncontrollable laughter or the fact that the outside temperature was then a balmy two degrees. Obviously one more reason I will never be qualified to run for our nation's highest office. (Or is it because I would never be bold enough to throw myself a $150-million inauguration in a time of major recession?)

He's baaaaaaaack!!! My man Lance made his official comeback on Sunday in southern Australia, riding a warmup criterium that will lead into this week's Tour Down Under. Although he is riding for Team Astana (for free, I might add), his mission this time is less about the results and more about the message. The Tour de France is no longer his sole focus, as he will be riding in many races around the world to spread the Livestrong message and encourage countries across the globe to step up the effort to eliminate cancer. Note his Livestrong bike and helmet. And remember when you buy any Livestrong workout clothing, 100% of the proceeds go to those who are living with cancer - incredible! Good luck Lance and Livestrong!

The family and I saw "Mall Cop" over the weekend – one of the stupidest movies I have ever encountered. And I mean "stupid" as in I was laughing so hard throughout the movie that Jackie and Murphy (and okay, Aubs too) had to physically restrain me during certain scenes. If you were ever into that Chris Farley-style slapstick onscreen humor (and I was), this movie is for you. Also a better story than you might expect. Definitely not an award winner, but lots of fun!

Okay, I know that, being involved in the world of advertising, I am supposed to be generally cynical about TV commercials. But this one gets me EVERY time . . . and maybe because it's something I could see myself accidently doing. I'm sure you've watched it countless times on the tube, but enjoy!

I've been braving the elements over the past couple of months and running in the "Frostbite" distance series. Coming up next weekend is the half marathon. It's been fun training in the "off" season and can't wait to participate in the full series of races, triathlons and marathons this spring, summer and fall. No matter what your goals, I hope you're well on your way to achieving them as well.

As always, thanks for reading. And until next time, pick up the pace and run your own race.

- Jeff

The Lunch Hour

A lunch hour has always been a sacred part of my workday, not so much about the food as the welcome escape. But as I learned the other day, a lot can happen in 60 minutes. Just last week as I glanced at my watch in the home office, I eagerly finished my lunch hour to-do list and was quickly out the door. First stop? The post office to ship a package. As I rushed in the front door and grabbed a number for the waiting line, I was instantly besieged by a crazy-eyed, wild-haired gentlemen – “Don’t you agree President Bush was a failure?! Aren’t you mad about the economy? Ya know, I thought he should have resigned years ago . . .” Helpless, I glanced around at my fellow line waiters who seemed relieved that I had distracted Wild Man away from them while still offering me sympathetic glances. One woman simply shook her head and frowned slightly at my misfortune – I was the new sacrificial lamb. Thinking quickly, I pulled my trusty BlackBerry out of my pocket and began talking into it, which made no sense because it had not rung and I had not dialed it. Wild Man didn’t seem to notice as I continued to talk to no one but myself as I tried to look as preoccupied as possible while edging away to safety. Of course, when my BlackBerry actually did ring (oh, what timing), Wild Man was instantly alert – “How did your phone ring like that when you were already talking to someone?! Further proof that they’re watching us, man!!! Our privacy rights are being trampled and you don’t care!!!” Half laughing, half crying I answered the call – from my wife, Jackie – and simply held the phone in the air so she could hear Wild Man’s rant (I felt the need for a witness). After quickly finishing up my call with Jackie, I did something I am not proud of, something so vile, it probably makes me a terrible human being . . . but at this point it was sink or swim. As an elderly gentleman innocently strolled in and took a number, I quickly pointed him out to Wild Man and said, “See that guy that just walked in? He LOVES President Bush.” Wild Man was livid and instantly pounced on his new, terrified victim, giving him an earful as I quickly dropped off my package at the counter and raced out the door. (C’mon, work with me here, it was for the greater good!) As I jumped in my truck and reflected on the fact that it’s beginning to seem like it is the post office customers who are going postal, I drove out of the parking lot and headed for my next lunch hour destination . . .

Aubrey’s daycare. It’s a great place – an old historic mansion with rooms so cozy that I find myself lingering with Aubrey each morning, checking out the latest toys and drooling over the smell of the pancake breakfasts. Today, however, I was simply stopping by to pay the monthly bill. Still shaken from my postal experience, I was relieved to see the smiling, familiar faces of the ladies behind the front desk. “Hi, Jeff, are you here for Aubrey,” said Anne, looking suddenly stunned as I leaned over the counter toward her. “Oh, no, just here to pay the bill.” Soon, Jan, another worker at the school (and also a neighbor), was standing by Anne, looking curiously at me, but they both began laughing at my every word. “Hey, don’t tell Aubrey I was here or she’ll really let me have it tonight.” The snickering steadily increased. “Wouldn’t want her to give me a timeout or anything.” They continued to laugh in a disproportionate amount to the humor I was delivering. But who am I to judge? I was clearly making their day, a ray of sunshine in a probably otherwise dismal afternoon. I am the man, I thought as I walked out the door – spreading laughter, spreading joy – that’s my mission today. I jumped back in my truck and, still feeling as if something wasn’t just quite right, I made the mistake of glancing in my rearview mirror and, as my stomach sank, I realized they had been laughing AT me, not WITH me. Now, I don’t want to gross you out, but let’s just say that there was something the color green protruding so prominently from my right nostril that I literally screamed when I saw it. Obviously, I had received an unhealthy (and well-deserved) dose of karma from my devious actions at the post office. Now feeling sick and disoriented, I pulled myself together as best I could and headed for my last stop . . .

Whole Foods. They have the world’s best organic salad bar, not to mention delectable vegetarian chili. But after what I had just experienced, my appetite had completely disappeared. I simply wanted to pick up a gallon of milk. Glancing through the refrigerator case, I selected one with an “Organic Valley” label when suddenly an older woman with a German accent grabbed my arm. Still gun shy from the Wild Man post office incident, I quickly pulled away but Milk Lady followed me. “You know, my son works for Organic Farms in upstate New York.” After chatting with her for a few moments, I learned the great measures that her son – an independent dairy farmer – takes to ensure we all drink healthy milk. Milk Lady was very charming and was clearly just looking for someone to talk to (and since she wasn’t laughing at me, I also figured that my nose was clean). As we stood together in the check out line, she said, “Now some people have problems with the price of the milk, but you seem like you really care about your family. At it’s a small price to pay for your good health.” The price? Suddenly, the checker, with cool dreadlocks and a Whole Foods bandana, pulled the milk carton out of my hands and marveled, “Dude, you do know this is an eight dollar carton of milk.” Come again? “Yeah, we sure don’t sell many of those . . . ” I carefully weighed my options. Of course I love my family and care about my health, but c’mon, eight dollars for a small portion of milk?! Just as I was trying to sneak past Milk Lady to swap my selection, she glanced up and said, “Oh, are you going back for another carton? I will hold your place in line – you are a good man.” Suddenly, eight dollars seemed much more reasonable than 16 dollars, so I made an excuse that I was just going to grab a magazine behind her. “Do you want Women’s Health or Female Medicine Today?” As I finally made my way home, I realized a lot of (really weird) things can happen during the course of something as seemingly insignificant as a lunch hour. The eight-dollar gallon of milk and February issue of Women’s Health sitting in the grocery bag on my back seat were proof of that troubling revelation.

Thanks for reading. And until next time, pick up the pace and run your own race.

- Jeff

Thinking Outside The Bun™

Okay so believe it or not, there is a business side to Jeff Roberts (don't you hate it when people refer to themselves in the third person???). Jeff . . . oops, I mean I am the owner, operator, CEO, janitor, lunch lady and only employee of Jeff Roberts Ink™ (www.jeffrobertsink.blogspot.com), my freelance writing business. I have to admit, I am the second best boss that I have ever had and am now venturing into my fourth year of business. I was an accidental entrepreneur. When the advertising agency I had been employed by for over a decade suddenly tanked with virtually no notice, I took a deep breath . . . and went out on my own. Recently, I was cleaning out all of my old electronic files, when I found one of my first Jeff Roberts Ink™ writing assignments - a short story contest in which you were supposed to articulate how you were lead to your current job. I thought it would either amuse you . . . or scare you . . . or both. Read at your own risk below. And please note that, true to my eating habits, the image above is a veggie burger!

Thinking Outside The Bun™

I didn’t ask for this. The Ind-e-ges-tion™ and The Heartbreak of Psoriasis™ that suddenly beset me upon learning that the ad agency I had called home for a decade was closing. As an established copywriter, I had become mistakenly confident that my company would Keep Going, and Going, and Going . . . ™.

While It Takes a Tough Man to Make a Tender Chicken™, it takes an even tougher individual to dive into the unknown corporate abyss with No More Tears™. Nothin’ Says Lovin’ Like Somethin’ from the Oven™, so while I started my first day of unemployment with a Breakfast of Champions™, I weighed my financial status. All that was left was my employee stock, which at that point bought me only A Coke and a Smile™.

How Do You Spell Relief™? I decided to start my own copywriting organization and I Liked It So Much, I Bought The Company™, which isn’t saying much since I am the only employee. As scary as it was venturing out on my own, I felt like I was striving toward something positive. After all, A Mind is a Terrible Thing to Waste™ and I wanted to Be All That I Could Be™. So I cleaned off my shabby desk, set up my Apple® iBook™ computer, decided to Think Different™ . . . and waited for the phone to ring. Was I destined to be The Loneliest Guy in Town™?

After shaking hands, kissing babies and emphasizing that at my new business, Quality is Job 1™, I landed my first assignment – a request for slogans, of all things. Where’s The Beef®? The client said the ideas had to Absolutely, Positively Be There Overnight™. “You’re In Good Hands™,” I assured the client. After all, at my company, We Try Harder™. Even though the pressure was on, I was determined to Just Do It™.

I racked my brain for hours, looking for the perfect idea. Then Snap! Crackle! Pop!™, it came to me. I quickly Let My Fingers Do The Walking™ across my keyboard, emailed my concepts to the client and anxiously awaited the reply. “M’m, M’m, Good™! . . . They’re Great™!” came the response as I excitedly jumped up and down in my Nike® Air Shocks™. Something Special is in the Air™, I thought. Then it happened: the happy client spread the word about my good work to other organizations, then They Told A Friend, And So On, And So On™, until I was so busy I could barely type fast enough. When It Rains, It Pours™!

Plop, Plop, Fizz, Fizz, Oh What a Relief It Is!® Just a few months after starting out on my own, I’ve Come A Long Way, Baby®. New business cards: $35. New suit to meet with clients: $200. The opportunity to work for myself: Priceless™. I’m Lovin’ It™!

Jeff Roberts is a freelance copywriter in St. Louis, Missouri. His wife Jackie, son Murphy, and daughter Aubrey are The Pause That Refreshes™ in his life.

Thanks for reading. Until next time, pick up the pace and run your own race.

- Jeff