Earlier this week I woke up in my grandparents house and packed my things, I was excited to spend 9 days in Florida. The next morning I found myself waking up in an airport. A few hours after that I was in an Orange Grove running with my shirt off. Not long after that I sat down in the resort lobby booking a flight home.

I look forward to this trip every year but when I got to Florida this year I knew something was wrong. I was not motivated to train and I was not motivated to be there.

My entire family (folks, siblings, cousins, aunts, uncles, significant others, etc…) was planning on spending New Year’s Eve in Niagara Falls at Club Italia. I would be one of the only ones not there. The last 3 years I have wished my family happy new years through long-distance phone calls and text messages, but too much has happened this year for that pattern to continue. So I’m on my way home early…

With the conclusion of another year I thought I would share a few thoughts:

1. You’ll never realize what you have unless you use it or unless it is taken away.
2. You have the opportunity to do so many things; those opportunities cause many to do nothing…
3. You are constantly making choices and those choices are leading you to a very specific destination, one that you may be proud of or one that you may detest.
4. Having goals are fine but don’t let them prevent you from enjoying the journey… The journey is the destination.
5. Unless you have demonstrated absolute obedience and conviction, you have not experienced doubt.
6. Don’t try and find meaning in that which you do not live; the gap between meaning and understanding is great.
7. Running is a great way to learn something about yourself.
8. If you have to keep a straight face on a first date, then it’s not going to work out.
9. Wake-up! You’re alive and we’re on your side!

Two days ago, 45 minutes down the road, the grass was green and the roads were clear. I’m now sitting at gate 16, looking outside at a blank piece of paper. Everything is white. Planes are delayed, people are trying to find places to stay and I’m trying to get myself to Florida.

Shortly after Christmas, for the last four years at least, I make my way down to Florida for 9-10 days with some coaches and athletes from the University of Toronto. It’s always a great time. The weather is consistent and the lazy river is warm. I go down to relax and train. Lots of people don’t know what I mean when I say “train” so in the next couple days I’ll provide a definition through a sample day.

In the past I have had to leave the day after Christmas, which means little time with the family. This year I was fortunate enough to be able to spend an extra two days with them. As a child I remember spending a few extra days in the Falls and this year was reminiscent of those days.

Our Christmas tradition is fairly busy.

We’re with my Dad’s relatives Christmas Eve (Toronto), we have our own Christmas on Christmas morning (Guelph), and then we leave to visit my mom’s relatives Christmas afternoon and we stay there for a few days (Niagara Falls). 

My home is in Guelph, but really, my home is where the heart of my family is. If the heart of my family is in Toronto, then home is in Toronto. Some people only feel “at home” when they are in the physical presence of their bedroom, family room and so on…  

I’ve done a good amount of traveling this year:
Orlando, Florida – early January
Seattle, Washington - late January
San Antonio, Texas – late March
L.A, California – mid April
Various places in Europe – July
Venice, Florida – late August
Orlando, Florida – late December   

Not one of those trips was done with my family (San Antonio was with my brother and Venice was with my cousin and her husband). I’ve travelled all over. I’ve had a number of experiences.

But I’ve realized: happiness is meant to be shared…

As the wine bottles became lighter we started talking about all of the fights that we had been in. My cousin Sophia, her husband Jeremy, my oldest brother Vince and his finance, Flavia, allowed me to be the 5th wheel last night. We all had a long day of family activities, which finished off with the viewing of Avatar in 3D. Vince and I had already seen it in 2D, now we just have the IMAX experience left…although Vince made the point that we could have avoided all of this and just watched it in IMAX first. The film is a visual masterpiece, but I don’t want to get into that here.

Us cousins are all fairly close and the older we get, the closer we become. I’m unfortunately not going to be joining them at Club Italia this New Year as I will be in Orlando doing my running thing (tough life, I know) so I suggested that we go get some drinks and catch up. 

So like I was saying, as we started drinking more of that red grape juice we started talking about fighting. Some of the stories were hilarious, others were frightening, others, I hope, were made-up.

I wasn’t surprised that all the guys had a couple stories each. Some guys are just prone to physical confrontation. The big surprise of the evening, however, was hearing the fearless attitude of the girls who expressed an unprecedented passion for violence! I’m not saying they’re interested in joining Tyler Durden and his friends, but I was impressed with the assertiveness of these ladies!

The girls explained how they would, if they had to, defend themselves from robbers/thieves, creeps/stalkers, and girls moving in on their men!  

I went back to my hotel and as I was falling asleep I began looking back on this year, which is something I often do around this time. I can recount many situations where I was given the opportunity to fight and I thought to myself, “Everyone should fight”. Most of us, I hope, will never get into a physical fight. But if we want, we can always find a fight in ourselves. 

Sickness and death. Pride and temptation. Cowardliness and gluttony.

I haven’t always won, in fact, I haven’t always put up a good fight. 

Like I’ve said elsewhere, I’ve experienced a lot of death this year. Just this afternoon I was in New York for my great aunts funeral. When I’m standing above a Sleeping Beauty I often wonder, “What sort of fights he get into?”  ”Did she face the fight or did she concede without effort?” “Did he see his suffering as a way of feeling sorry himself or as a way of developing perseverance?” 

I don’t know what happens when you die, but I’d like to think that I’m starting to understand what can happen to you when you’re alive. But I think each person needs to figure that out on their own… 

This year I’m going to bully myself around a bit more. I’m not going to be so easy on myself. I want to test myself by seeing what sort of faith I actually have in myself, for as the poet says, “the testing of your faith develops perseverance”.

Yesterday morning I drove a few kilometers into the country and did a “hill workout” with my mom. It felt like -15, the wind was in my face on the uphill, and I was alone: I wouldn’t have it any other way.  It’s fun training in a group but every now and then I need to go into Rocky IV mode and test myself, by myself. 

After the workout my mom told me that my brother Vince had called her cell and wanted me to come over for the night. So after eating a grilled cheese sandwich, while sitting in an ice bath, I jumped in the car and made my way down the road to Hamilton. 

Vince, two of his best friends (Giuseppe and Mike) and myself went to Silvercity for the much anticipated James Cameron masterpiece: Avatar. The four of us were simply blown away. The show was 3 hours but I could have sat there for another 5. Afterwards, we went to the Lone Star for some beer and fajitas; we couldn’t stop talking about the film.

All I’ll say is that James Cameron is one incredible storyteller… 

The theme of Avatar is not unique, but the story is nothing short of mesmerizing. Lately, I’ve been reading a lot about James Cameron and there is one thing I’ve realized (besides the fact that he was a philosophy major at U of T (gives me hope)): storytelling is a gift.

There are a lot of boring people in this world, but if you have been gifted with the ability to tell a story then please don’t hold back…

I’m always intrigued by these spurts I go through where one day I feel like blogging and then, for four months or so, I don’t. I don’t know how long this interval is going to last for but hopefully I can get at least a dozen posts up. 

So I’m back home for the holidays and for me, that means Christmas Eve and Christmas. I’ve always loved the month of December. My Italian skin doesn’t care too much for the cold, but my soul enjoys the slow pace of this final month. This semester I decided to do 6 graduate courses and I ended up writing just over 100 pages (70 of which were in the last 18 days of the semester). So, yeah, this month is slowly paced. 

I’m back in Guelph, living under my parents roof and each day I wake-up, read, eat, train, go out for lunch with my mom or dad, read or run errands, sometimes I’ll have a nap, then I’ll train again, then I’ll eat dinner with my mom and dad, then the three of us may watch a movie or go to a movie, and eventually I make my way to bed.

I don’t see my parents very much during the year and since I go to Florida shortly after Christmas (to train) I like to spend some extra time with them before Christmas. The older I get, the more I realize something: it’s almost impossible to spend too much time with my parents.  When I was young I could only stand being around them at certain times, but now I’m realizing that those times aren’t infinite. This year our family lost two VERY close members; I guess you could say that the immediacy of death has made a deep impact on me. Like many people, I do believe in life after life after death, but I still want to get to know those people closest to me as much as possible, today.

My parents and I talk about everything. Since I’ve only known my parents for the second half of their life, I’ve been most intrigued about their past. I love listening to them talk about their family meals and vacations and arguments and weekends and weddings and favourite music and best friends and how they met. Listening to them talk about their past made we wonder: Would I be friends with them if we were in the same class?

While I like talking about their past, they love talking about my present and future situation! “So how is Toronto?” “You eating well?” “What do you mean you’re going to Europe?” “Are you going to do your PhD?” “What are your running goals this year?” “What’s the girl situation like?” “What do you mean you’re going to San Antonio?” 

Maybe over the next few posts I’ll tackle some of my parents questions…

Yesterday was the longest day of my life. Get ready for one hell of a story.

This story starts a few days ago. A group of us left Virton Sunday morning and headed to Brasschaat for our final track race of the year. It was a beautiful setting. Trees surrounded the entire track and the track itself was old and fast. I had told myself, unless I run 1:49.29 or faster (a standard Athletics Canada recognizes as “Development”) this was going to be my last race of the season. At about 4.15pm, on Sunday afternoon, I went for my warm up with Geoff Harris. I finished my strides and got on the line, ready for my 4th 800 in 9 days. I looked up into the heavens and said, “Run with me Nonno Vince (Grandpa)”. I actually don’t remember anything about the race. I remember the gun going off and I just sat in the back of the pack most of the race and eventually came across the line half a second faster than I ever had before in 1:49.28 (a new Personal Best and a new dilemma). I had to decide, should I stay and keep racing in Europe or go party and celebrate the season.

After the race a group of Canadians and Americans went to Gent for the largest street festival in Europe to pull an all-nighter. I was really excited to go but something was pulling me in another direction. I didn’t end up going to Gent and I didn’t end up celebrating. I know it sounds mystical but somebody was telling me that I had to get home and be with my family. Earlier that week I had booked a flight to Milan for Tuesday because my original plan was to go visit the motherland and then hit up Switzerland for a few days.

The next morning the voice in my head grew and grew; without talking to any of my family I knew my grandfather had only hours to live. A sense of urgency ran through my blood. I packed everything and at 1pm I was out the door for the last time and on my way to Amsterdam to try and get on a flight back to Toronto. It was a 3 h train ride. I ran around the airport looking for something… no luck. I had to decide whether to stay in Amsterdam or go back in Turnhout. I ended up going back to Turnhout. I got in at about 11:15pm. I opened up my email to see if my travel agent sent me any flights and there was this email from my brother:

Mikey...Nonno just passed away five minutes ago.  I m so sorry . Dad is in rough shape, pray for him.
I m going to the hospital now.  He passed while everyone was around him.
Call my cell phone if you need help and I can wire money.
But tell them there is a death in your family and you need to go home now.  My phone is on...

I gasped. All I wanted to do was be home with the family and I couldn’t. My new friends, and the closest thing to a family,  Leanna, Celia, Alicia, Geoff and Adam were there and were awesome. I called my dad from Turnhout and cried with him over the phone; death is such a painful process. I told him, “Dad, I’m so sorry I’m not there for you… I promise I’ll be back tomorrow night!” I got off the phone and looked at flights all over Europe to Toronto. I eventually found something leaving from Frankfurt (where my return flight was from) at 3:15pm. I knew that was the one. It was booked but my plan was to get to the airport, plea my case and fly standby.

I didn’t sleep much that night. My train was leaving at 6:04am and by this time it was about midnight and I had been traveling all day. I went into the chapel and just prayed. Probably a lot of the people reading this think prayer and God is a waste of time. All I’ll say, for now, is that prayer disturbs something about me. It feels uncomfortably easy. It makes me, a finite creature, feel in relation with something infinite. I slept for a little more than an hour and by 5:30am I was out the door, for the second, last time.

I got to the train station and booked my ticket from Turnhout to Frankfurt: 80 Euro for a 4 h trip. I ended up being put on the wrong train and went in the wrong direction. The panic started. I knew I had to get to the airport early in order to be the first one to fly standby. Long story short, the trip that was suppose to cost 80 Euro and take 4h ended up costing 140 Euro and took 7 h. I eventually got to the airport and ran as fast I could to Terminal 2-E: Air Transat. I was panicking but had faith and sometimes people deserve to have their faith rewarded!

I got to the front desk at 1:15pm and told them my situation. She took my name down and said I was going to have to wait till 2:15, when they close check-in, to see if there is anything available; I just kept saying, “I have to get on this flight. I’ll pay whatever I have to but I promised my dad I would be home tonight!” I ended up just pacing around for 1h. I sent a few emails to my family, letting them know the situation. I did 5 races in Europe and I was never nearly as nervous for those races as I was for this.

In Terminal 2-E I continued my praying. It was 2:15pm. I went back to the desk to find out my status. There was some commotion about someone’s luggage and the place was in an uproar. 2:30…still nothing. 2:45, problem resolved. Now, for me, Mr. Del Monte. She said, “it’s not looking good”. I asked her to call the people at the boarding gate and she did. I heard her say something over the phone in German but I recognized the word “Jump Seat”. I yelled, “I’ll sit anywhere… please… just let me get on this flight”. She said, “O.K. let’s get you on this.” We booked a new ticket and I had 20 min to get through security and get on the plan. I ran a new personal best from the check in to the gate – 800 m in 1:46.20.

I was the last one to make it to the gate and the young looking fellow taking the tickets looked at me and said, “Mr. Del Monte, ah yes, we’ve been expecting you, please enjoy your trip. Today you’ll be flying with us in Business Class.” I hadn’t smiled for the last 36 hours but I had cried a lot… so… I cried again. Joy can do that to you sometimes.

I was so thankful…

It was an excellent flight. I hadn’t eaten anything all day. I ate lots of food and drank lots of wine and did a few shots with John, the man sitting beside me, in memory of my grandfather. I didn’t sleep at all on the plane. I was the last one on the plane and the first one off. I ran to customs and sailed through. Went to get my bag and it was the 4th one there. I ran outside and my mom was there. I had emailed them in Frankfurt and told them about the flight and my flying standby and they just assumed I got it.

I eventually got to Guelph. 19h and 35m later.

The next 3 days are going to be rough but there is nothing more important than being with your family when the Road of Life becomes rough.

Thank you all for your thoughts and prayers. Here’s to Nonno Vince!

Well, last night did not go exactly according to plan. I felt o.k during the day. Since mid-May I have been struggling with a hamstring injury. I’ve been able to manage it well, while training and racing around it. It has been a bit sore the last few days but I figured it would go away with a good warm-up. 

Geoff and I started our warm-up and it was fairly nice out. Then, all of a sudden, a huge storm came in. It blew out the electricity and they postponed the meet 30 minutes until the storm passed over. We ended up taking a seat and waiting for the storm to pass. Because of the cooler weather I was really considering not racing and saving it for Brasschaat (which is tomorrow night, where I’m one of the last guys to make it into the B-section) but I felt bad because the meet organizers gave us the Royal Treatment. I ended up toeing the line. The rabbit was suppose to go out in 52.5 but was out in 54. I came through in 55-low and knew that the fast time wasn’t happening. I didn’t want to force it and do anything crazy. I ended up getting 4th in 1.51.60. Geoff ended up winning in 1.50.5 (earning the prestigious award of pepperoni, chocolate and beer). 

After the race we were all treated to a huge BBQ with lots of meat, pasta, pies and beer! Then, at about 11pm, when we finally got back to our house, Tim Konoval and I headed over to this ice cold river. It was pouring rain out but we sucked it up and sat in the near freezing water for 8 minutes. I feel much better today. I’m going to treat this leg today and then gear up for my last effort of the season. I believe that the night is darkest before the dawn and last night was pretty dark. I know a sub 1:49 is in me. Tomorrow is the race to do it in. I’ve learned, while being here, that you can only control what you can control. If the pacer is on and the weather is good I’ll be there… 

On another note, I’ve decided to visit the motherland. I’ll be back in Turnhout Sunday night. I’ll head to Brussels Tuesday morning for a day trip and get on a plane and head to Milan Tuesday night. I’ll stay there for 2 nights and then I’m taking the train to Bern to stay with my cousins fiance, Justin. I’ll then take the train from Bern to Frankfurt Sunday morning and be back in Toronto next Sunday night. 

On one LAST NOTE… if you believe in praying, please pray for my grandfather. He is the true Italian Stallion. Relentless. Fearless. Young at heart. Dying. My family would appreciate the support.

Till next time.    

So at the last minute, a group of us (Celia, Geoff H, Darren and Ashley) decided to go to a low-key meet in Virton. We woke up this morning in Turnhout and really had no idea where we were going. We get on the train and went to Leuven where we met a bunch of other athletes. We then took a 2 hour car ride south. We slowly started to realize that we were going to the middle of nowhere.

We then arrived in this beautiful setting…

There’s about 15 athletes staying at this house. This place is brilliant! Because I’m part of the post-modern area I can’t articulate it in words. I’ll do a video in the next day or two.

On another note, FloTrack, a popular track site decided to post our workout as this weeks “WORKOUT WEDNESDAY“. CHECK IT OUT!!!

Well I’m officially halfway through my Euro experience. I love it here. The pace of life is moderate, the taste of coffee is bold and the tracks are shorter than 400m! Well, the last one is a lie. Last night our Canadian contingent made the 70 minute trek to Gent. Just as we pulled in a brutal storm showed up. We were forced to stay in our car and wait it out. Eventually we made a run for the track and a lot of us were contemplating not racing and saving the effort for another day. Then, all of a sudden, out came the light, the cameras were turned on and action hit the track!

I found out earlier in the day that I was going to be in the B-section of the 800’s. I was the last guy to make it into the heat and the meet coordinators exact words were “I’ve put you in the B section. I hope you’re running fast!” It was a large field. 12 guys on the line. I knew that I had been given an opportunity. And when opportunity comes knocking, you answer. So after a bit of a delay, because of the lightening, we were on the line. I felt a bit worse than average. I got out well and just tucked in the pack. I tried not to make any big moves and instead, just run a strong, consistent race. I faded a bit in the last 50 meters but I felt fine after.

1.49.80.

I know there is another second in my legs.

You can watch the video here: http://www.flotrack.org/videos/coverage/view_video/235261/195017

It took 20 minutes to get the results up and I knew I was going to be right around 1:50. I was on pins and needles. When I saw the result I let out a shout of joy. It’s been a hard 3 years and I’ve given up many times. This just gives me hope to keep fighting and keep training. I’ve never known what I’ve wanted to get out of of this sport but I’m starting to get an idea…

I’ve decided to do a small Twilight meet Friday night in Virton (at the border of Belgium and France). It’ll be 10 days after my most aggressive workout of the year and there is a rabbit going through 600. My buddy Geoff Harris is looking to run fast and so am I (he was 2nd an Nationals this year and has a PB of 1:47.99).  After that I’ll head to Brasschaat on Sunday to race my last 800 of the season. Then, I’m off for a week, traveling around Europe a bit.  I’ll be back in Canada Aug 2.

I appreeciate all the support I’ve been getting and I hope I can continue to report good news!

Till next time,

md

Dedicated to my Father’s Father – Nonno Vince – who is taking his last few breaths. I wish I could be there…