After a week, there is about five days when she is “not 100%.” (Translation: She feels awful.) But then, she gets a bit over a week in which she feels really good. She walks the dog at dawn, cooks, works, and does almost everything she used to do before we were told “the news.”

So right now, in answer to all the questions, she is feeling good and trying to absorb some calories by eating melted Ben and Jerry’s. (Try finding that one in any of the “anti-cancer diet” books.)

Beautiful Wish from Beautiful Friends

For me, when she is feeling good, I am feeling good. That means that on days like today, I can feel “normal” by pursuing my admittedly “abnormal” activities.

It all started last year when I had a dilemna. I wanted to run with my club to get ready for the Tiveria Marathon at the same time I wanted to ride to get ready for Alyn Bike Ride. So I decided that since the running club normally started runs at dawn and the biking guys liked to sleep in, I would have time to do both. As long as I could squeeze enough calories in, there was no problem and I looked forward to the crazy Fridays all week.

After we got the “news,” I stopped all exercise for about 2 weeks. Then when I was getting a little crazy, I started doing short, fast 10k runs in the morning. But when Stella felt better, I decided (with her encouragement) to get back to my old Fridays. So once again today, we had a beautiful and hard run this morning, then two of us went to Kibbutz Be’eri to ride the nicest bike trail in Israel (IMHO.)

At almost any minute of the day or night, I am consumed with worry about Stella. I think about her when I wake, when I work, when I go to the Mokolet, etc. I know my worries cannot in any way help, but that’s just the way it is. No matter how normal you try and be, when your wife has cancer, nothing is normal. My time is not my own.

Except when I am running hard up a steep hill or biking down a windy, single track. At those times, my mind clears and all I am focused on is the trail ahead. And so for a few brief (o.k., not always so brief) moments, I get to feel like my old crazy self again.

Thanks for all the good thoughts, prayers, jokes, e-mails, etc.

Happy Trails.

BTW — Please read this post from Romi. I was going to write one about the evening but she did it so well.

THANK YOU WHOMEVER YOU ARE!

Yarden & Stella

So while I had not decided whether I would in fact run, I figured I should head over the the convention center and pick up my entry materials – just in case I chose to do it.

Then the bomb went off.

Suddenly, my toe problems seem really dumb.

A number of friends were inside the hall and heard the explosion. In fact, the course goes right by where the bomb went off. As they were picking up their race numbers and T-shirts, the glass windows shattered.

Since I could no longer go to the hall, I drove home. All the while I was trying to follow the news and process my feelings.

Of course there is anger at the coward who planted the bomb and snuck away. And there is sadness over those who were hurt because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time.

But you know what really pisses me off?

My daughter is scared and I can’t do anything about it.

Between the Itamar attack and today’s bombing, she is scared and asks why does this stuff keep happening?

And my answers and attempts to reassure her sound so lame.

Terrorists do not scare me. I will proudly run the marathon and smile as we run through parts of the city liberated in 1967. I don’t care what my time will be. We must show the terrorists that there is NOTHING they can do that will make us change our way of life. If people back out of the marathon now for any reason, the bad guys will think they have won a small victory.

I will actually sleep fine tonight, and I hope the Hamasniks spend the night in some Gaza hole wondering if the sound of the drone above them will be the last thing they ever hear.

But you know, we can thump our chests and express our platitudes that the terrorists don’t scare us.

The fact is they DO scare our kids.

Children should not have to shed tears in their beds because they are worried about terrorism.

And don’t tell me about  Palestinian kids scared of the IDF. If their parents stood up to the terrorists who use them as human shields, their kids would have nothing to be scared about? Not realistic? In an age where Arabs throughout the Middle East are standing up and risking their lives against the forces of terror, the Gazans do nothing. They wait for their children to die and then wail for the cameras about Israeli terror. Sorry, I’m not buying.

You made my daughter cry you bastards. And there is nothing you could do to piss me off more.

You planted a bomb where my friends were.

If your culture really believes that stabbing babies and killing old ladies on buses are heroic acts, then you deserve everything that is coming at you.

On Friday, several thousand runners will run right by where the bomb went off. And we will say a silent prayer that there will be no more need for children’s tears in the holy land of Israel

Yeah, I know that an angry mob overthrew Mubarak, and others are trying to topple the leadership in Libya, Tunisia, and Neve Daniel. (Can anyone tell me who won the game vote last night, I gotta kinda tired after a few hours. I had this weird dream that some of the most right-wing members of the Yishuv were trying to stop the construction of a new Neve Daniel neighborhood.)

But that’s now why I’m writing now. I figure it would be amiss to just jump in and start writing again without a little personal update. If you are more interested in my ramblings on the insanity of the world, read my rant on the HonestReporting website by clicking  here. I go after the U.N. Human Rights Council, but quite frankly, they’ve become too easy a target.

Most importantly, I feel a big miracle has occurred. As many are aware, both my parents ended up in the intensive care unit for independent reasons at about the same time. I have now made so many flights between Israel and the Bay Area that Delta has a frequent flyer status just for me. I get to sit with the pilot.

Actually, I have tried out KLM, Delta’s Dutch partner airline. It’s great. Imagine the convenient flight times and low prices that Delta seems to have with flight attendants who are actually… nice. Not once did I hear one of them tell me Delta’s motto:

“There’s nothing I can do about that”

And on KLM, you are not forced to watch Delta commercials between the movies. Whenever I see one of those, I wonder why the friendly, smiling Delta employees that they use in the commercials have no resemblance to the people working on the plane.

BUT — the great news is that my Dad is now home from the hospital and my Mom has just one chemo session left. After months of bad news, we are very hopeful that they will both make a speedy recovery. (And thanks for everyone’s thoughts and prayers, it has meant a lot to us.) While Passover is usually the holiday where Jews celebrate leaving bondage in Egypt for the land of Israel, I think this one time we will leave the land of milk and matzah to celebrate freedom from illness in the Bay Area.

In between and during travels to California, I have tried to keep up with running, but it has not been easy. Two hunded times back and forth in the plane aisle is about a kilometer, but doing intervals while flying is generally frowned upon, even by those nice KLM stewardesses.

The Jerusalem marathon will take place in about 3 weeks and I will give it a shot. It’s normally not considered such a great idea to run two marathons in about two months, but I never admitted to normalcy. Yet I do not plan to run this competitively like the Tiveria marathon. No, I want to just go out and have fun running around the ancient and modern city of Jerusalem. (If it’s possible to run 42 kilometers and have fun. Not really sure about that yet.) It’s the least I can do considering the Mayor’s office stood up to the pressure to change the route of the race so it does not go through “occupied” territory.

Which actually fits in nicely to a video I am making for HonestReporting. We’re all getting a little tired of the media referring to the Old City of Jerusalem as “occupied, Arab East Jerusalem” just because it was conquered by the Jordanian Legion in 1948. There had been a thriving Jewish community in the Old City for thousands of years. This community was thrown out in 1948, the only time in modern history that Jerusalem was really “occupied.”

For part of the film, we interview a few people who lived in the Old City in 1948. They have compelling stories about what it was like to be under fire and then thrown out of their homes. So when you hear people casually refer to areas of Jerusalem that should be “given back to the Palestinians,” you can remind them that the city was already liberated from occupation in 1967.

So between work, training, and most importantly trying to help my parents, it has been a busy winter. But now that I’ve “updated my status,” I can resume writing about more interesting matters. Such as my current fight with those who think I am a left-wing nut.

But that will have to wait.

Now, while that marathon is still 2 months away, let’s talk about Thursday’s Tiveria Marathon. Those who have followed my adventures know that last year, the last half of the marathon was complete hell for me as I misjudged the heat and didn’t drink enough. I ended up dehydrating and almost crawling across the finish line. While I do cherish the fact that I was able to finish, I was quite miserable at my own stupidity. If only I could do it over I thought at the time, I would do it better by being smarter.

Well, one year later, I got my second chance. If I had trained a lot last year, I trained even harder this year. Unless I was in an airplane, I would not miss a training run. I ran my long runs with guys who are a lot faster than me just so I would push myself to keep up. I woke up at four in the morning and drove to Bet Shemesh every Friday and many Wednesdays. I did speed workouts every week. For four months, I was consumed with the drive to be at my best in time for the marathon.

I burned through running shoes and toenails as if they were disposable. I ran in the cold and in the heat. Yet all along, I wondered if despite the training, I would crash again. I often asked myself why I was doing this. I had run two marathons and really had nothing to prove.

Except to myself. I wanted to prove that I could run not only fast, but smart. I wanted to finish with my arms in the air and a smile on my face, not on the verge of passing out in the throes of twenty-four hour nausea.

Don’t get me wrong. Running a marathon is tough. No matter who you are, the last few kilometers are torture. The first ten are far easier than the last two. But with a good game plan, you can run a marathon and finish smiling.

Through training and a reliance on my GPS watch (a runner’s favorite toy), I knew that I could sustain a pace of around 4:35/kilometer. That would work out to a total time of 3 hours and 15 minutes, an ambituous goal but one that I thought was possible. I decided to stick to this, maybe go a little faster in the second half if I felt good.

I worked out a nutrition plan so I knew exactly how much water I should drink, electrolyte pills to swallow, and energy gels to eat. I planned where I would take each one. I planned out the run as much as I knew how.

But no matter how much preparation you do, there is still a huge unknown. There are so many variables that you really don’t know how you will do until your start running. One of the leaders of the club told me to relax and just let my legs do what they had been trained to do. He also said to just give myself a mental check every ten kilometers and adjust my pace accordingly.

It seemed to take forever for the race to start while all I could think about was how much it would hurt to finish. Then, we were off.

I found myself running a bit fast for the first twenty. My pace was 4:31. But I was comfortable and decided to try and sustain it. Unlike last year, the weather was cooler, there were no wild crocodiles on the course, and dare I say it — I was actually having fun. Everything felt perfect and even though I knew the finish would be tough, I started to believe that I could lick last year’s demons.

Smiling at the half

At the thirty kilometer mark I still felt good. My average pace was at 4:32 so I figured I was still 3 seconds/kilometer (which worked out to 2 minutes and 6 seconds) under my goal. But I remembered the words of advice a veteran runner had told me — the real race begins after thirty. So I kept plugging away and visualizing cruising to the finish line.

At thirty-three, with nine kilometers to go, I felt myself slowing. Each step got harder and I watched my pace start to climb by a few seconds each kilometer. I wondered if I had started too fast , but there was really nothing I could do about it at that point. I did some fast arithmetic in my head and realized that if I could keep the slow-down managable, I would still hit my goal.

I was able to continue through kilometer 38 at a 4:45 pace. My average rose to my goal pace of 3:35 but I still had the hardest four kilometers to go. At kilometers 38 and 39, I was hitting 4:50 per kilometer. That was not slow enough to immediately change my overall pace, but I knew it was going to be very close.

By kilometer 40, my pace had slowed to 5:00/kilometer. I knew that this was not going to be good enough.  I would come close but miss my goal because I really had nothing left in the tank and was running on mental energy alone. I was hitting the wall. My body didn’t want to keep going at any pace.

Just then, I saw my coach and leader of the Bet Shemesh Running Club Chaim Wizman. Chaim is an amazing runner and even though he has had an injury plagued season, he decided to run the marathon partly to help the rest of us. I saw him and felt embarrassed because I would not meet the goal that the two of us had decided I could do. “I just can’t do it,” I mumbled to him.

“Dude, you already did it,” he said back. Somehow, I sped up to 4:50 for kilometer 41. Would it be enough? I had no idea. But I knew I wanted it bad.

Suddenly, I realized I was within about a kilometer of the finish. Then it was 500 meters. Then it was about a 100 meters away. Just a few more seconds of agony.

And then it was over.

Bigger smile at the finish

I looked up in some disbelief and saw the official clock reading 3:14 and some change.

Ever had a dream that seemed impossible and then you are able to live it? Everything was a blur as I sprinted across the line feeling like an Olympic Gold Medalist. I followed Chaim and the Israeli third place women’s champion over the line by about a second.

Memories of nothing but pain and missed opportunities were suddenly replaced by one of the most glorious feelings I have ever known. I am still wearing the smile more than twenty-four hours later.

There are now three full lengh (42.2 kilometer) marathons in Israel. If you have never run one, I encourage you to give it a try. While it is very demanding, I don’t know of anyone who says they ran a marathon and really regrets it.

If you still need motivation think about this. If you run a marathon you can go to the Waffle Bar the next day and have one of their 2,000 calorie specials and not feel a tiny bit of guilt.

If a Belgian waffle loaded with ice cream and chocolate sauce isn’t enough motivation to spend four months waking up before the sun and running until your toenails fall off, then something is wrong with you.

But hopefully there is someone out there reading this who will decide to put a marathon on life’s bucket list and will end up with an experience to treasure all their life. The memory is even better than the waffles.

See you on the road.

Put Your Foot Down

Adidas, the global sportswear company whose running shoes I have bought for the last time, has decided to join Brazil, Uruguay, and other under-achieving South American countries in a denial of history. Apparently, they demanded that the Jerusalem marathon not pass through any areas of “occupied” Jerusalem. So now, the organizers will make sure that none of us run that close to those “illegal” neighborhoods of the city. (Thanks Israel Matzav.)

It seems like every day, someone else wants to “revise” history to promote the myth that there is a Palestinian city of “East Jerusalem” that was conquered by an invading Israeli army in 1967. According to this myth, any Jewish presence in the city of “East Jerusalem” is at best suspect and at worst illegal. The fact that the city of “East” Jerusalem is home to the Temple Mount and the Western Wall does not really change anything since Jewish claims to these holy sites are  based on ideology rather than fact. In fact, these areas may actually be Islamic sites rather than Jewish ones. Or so the claim goes.

Once you accept the myth of “East Jerusalem”, then you can understand why all Jewish housing there is ‘illegal’ and should be torn down while Arab homes must be allowed to flourish, unhindered by such petty details as permits or building codes. You understand why other countries do not want to locate their embassies in Jerusalem and maintain the fiction that the seat of the Israeli government is in the trendy cafes of Tel Aviv.

You can also understand why it would be inappropriate for the Jerusalem Marathon to actually pass by the most historical areas of the city. The runners might actually see that there is no such thing as “East Jerusalem” and that there are both Jewish and Arab neighborhoods located throughout the Holy City. They might notice that people are actually praying in churches, synagogues, and mosques as they run by and that under Israeli sovereignty, the city is open to peoples of all religions.

Are you one of the few people who actually knows history as it occurred? If you are then you know that from 1948 to 1967, what is now referred to as “East Jerusalem” was under Jordanian military occupation. The Old City of Jerusalem, where Jews had lived for thousands of years, became “Jew free.” All the historical synogogues were destroyed and a garbage dump was placed next to the Western Wall in a concerted effort to eradicate all evidence of Jewish habitation.

If you read this blog then I am sure you are aware of all this, so I have an even more important question: Do your kids know? Do your friends know? Do your co-workers know? Does the guy you buy your sneakers from know?

Propaganda can only be fought with facts. Only if we talk about how Jerusalem is the heart of the Jewish people and the ancient and modern capital of Israel until our voices are hoarse can we expect the rest of the world to take notice.

Adidas, a major sponsor of the marathon, has no foreign policy beliefs. They believe in selling shoes and making money. They bought into the myth because some people (including a few far left members of the Jerusalem City Council) sold them on it. They were afraid that if they went along with the “occupation” marathon, people would stop buying their shoes.

Now it’s our turn. You can write to Adidas at consumer.relations@adidas.com. Tell them that you are disappointed with their decision to bring politics and propaganda into the Jerusalem Marathon. Let them know that our voices are stronger than those who claim to speak for “human rights” and that we’re ready to let our wallets and purses do the talking as well.

And if anyone who reads this still wants to debate about whether Jewish claims to Jersualem are legitimate, they can take me on any time.

But you’ll have to catch up to me first.

Not sure if the sun was setting or rising here

The sun is rising and my legs are burning from the accumulated lactic acid of the night’s running. We just passed 50 kilometers and still have another five to go.

Three of us are left from the four who started out together. I really feel like walking a bit or maybe taking a nap inside one of the hay bales we keep passing in this never ending field. I tell the other guys that I can’t keep up and they should just go ahead. But they slow down insisting that we finish together.

Not wanting to make them walk, I speed up and try to imagine how nice the finish line will feel. For some reason, all I can think about is eating a bowl of tomato soup. I promise myself that within an hour, somehow I will find a bowl and either eat it or soak my feet in it.

This is the Mountain to Valley Infinity Race, although the “insanity” race might be a more appropriate term. The total distance is 208 kilometers, and it is run by teams of 4, 6, or 8. There was even a two man team, (but unlike myself, those guys are really nuts.)

The race is divided up into 24 sections. Each section is between six and thirteen kilometers long. At the end of each section, the runner checks in with race officials and exchanges a wrist and ankle bracelet with the next runner on the team. Then you hop in the car and try to make it to the next exchange point before the runner.

We had four teams entered from the Bet Shemesh Running Club. So each segment, four of us would run together. We had set up the four man groups by putting together runners who run ”roughly” the same pace (although “roughly” can really hurt if you are the slowest one in the bunch.)

Unlike other races, we would not be competing against each other. The goal was just to finish this all night adventure.

First run. 6km downhill. Easy

We started at 2:30 P.M. on the Hermon mountain. This is actually the highest part of Israel. My group was the first to run so we got the segment that wound down the mountain for a short six kilometers. Not only is this a very easy run, but the views were simply spectacular. I mentioned to one of my teammates how much fun this was. He mentioned back that when we finished, we would only have 49 more kilometers to run. I stopped talking.

Our next segment was 9.5 kilometers on a trail that ran parallel to the Jordan river. The terrain was about as flat as could be and the weather was perfect. We ran a good pace — not all out but not wasting time either. At the end we exchanged bracelets again and headed for the Hula Valley where our next run would begin.

By the next run, the sun had set and we switched on our headlamps. As the temperature was dropping, I switched shirts and tried to keep warm while waiting for the runners to come in. It still didn’t feel that bad. Our next run was  only seven kilometers and some change.

Running is much easier when you can see

Most of this run was on a flat trail, but towards the end we were running up a rock strewn path. Unlike regular running on a road in daylight, you had to stay focused on the ground a few meters ahead of you at all times. One wrong step and you could easily hurt yourself. After the uphill, there was a steep downhill that also was a little dicey. But, once again we finished and even had a little friendly sprint at the end. Then on to run #4.

In between runs I tried to eat some Nutella on bread and drink a lot of water. It’s tough to figure out how much to eat. Eat too little, and you run the risk of bonking. A bonk is when your body is so hungry it starts to consume itself for more energy. Been there, done that, not fun. On the other hand, eat too much and you could have all sorts of issues I would rather not get into.

The first problem with run #4 was that by the time we drove up to the exchange point, the previous runners were already there. So I had to jump out of the car and just run without preparation.

This run was 13 kilometers plus. The first few were fine. But after awhile the distance was really getting to me and we slowed the pace a bit. Someone suggested we switch off our lights and run by moonlight. This was fine until a few minutes later one of the runners fell in a ditch. After that, we switched the lights back on.

Much nicer to run with friends than alone

This run was entirely on trails and some were quite uneven. By this time, it really was the middle of the night. We saw lots of other runners and passed a few of them. I was very relieved to see the fourth finish line. Luckily they had water right at the table. But it was the first time I seriously worried about the rest of the evening. We had two fairly long runs left.

It was around three in the morning by our fifth run. I was feeling a lot better after drinking energy drink, water, and a few bags of pretzels. Pretzels were about the only thing I could stomach at this point. They did the trick. Unfortunately, one of the guys who had been running with us blew out his knee about halfway through the run. We slowed down to make sure we finished together. I felt terrible for him….. On the other hand, I won’t say I was that disappointed that we had to slow down a little.

Finally, it was about quarter to six and we took off our headlamps as the dawn started to break. I really wasn’t sure how the run would go, but at least, the final finish line was within reach. We took off through what looked like a corn field.

The only nice thing I can say about that last run is that I was fully aware it was the LAST run. Despite the fact that you get breaks in between segments, after awhile the accumulated millage just wears you down. The whole night seems a bit of a blur.

My hardest moment was the last five and a half kilometers. Lactic acid was burning in my legs, and I had developed a few rather nasty blisters on my much abused toes. Yet there really was nothing to be done but just slog it out. My pace was by no means setting any records, but I was determined not to walk.

How happy was I to see the finish after running all night? Let’s put it this way, even if someone offered me a lifetime supply of my favorite chocolate liqueur, I would not have agreed to run ten more meters.

Luckily, since I was with the group that had started the whole race, we got to sit back while the rest of our club had to keep on running. I used the opportunity to visit a cafe and ate a little breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Yes, I got my tomato soup. No, I did not soak my feet in the bowl. Quite frankly, I was afraid to take off my shoes and inspect the damage.

I love finish lines

All that was left was to gather at Kibbutz Timrat at the final finish line. One by one, all the other teams came in. When the last Bet Shemesh Club runners appeared, we all joined them so that 16 of us could share in the finish line glory of knowing that we had completed an event that pushed us way outside our comfort zones.

After completing two marathons, numerous half marathons, ten kilometer races, and a triathlon, I have to say that this run was to me the most fun and possibly the most challenging (I do NOT want to show disrespect to the Marathon.)

I only hope that next year I can convince a few more guys to form a Neve Daniel Team. Anyone out there been diagnosed with a mild case of insanity?

Israel may be a relatively small country, but that doesn’t mean that it’s easy to run across it. Our run — which was by no means direct — traversed about a third of the country not counting the desert.

Why do I do this stuff? I sometimes wonder myself. But I know that the feeling I get when I can confront my own limits and somehow briefly surpass them is about the most rewarding feeling I have ever experienced.

Look inside yourself, you may be surprised what you find.

Me and CD Zlotnick after the race

This morning I found myself in the Alon Shevut pool getting ready for the start of my first triathlon. Triathlon? Oh yeah, that’s the crazy sport where lunatics swim, bike, and run because they can’t kill themselves by just doing one of them. Of course, this is not the ultra crazy Iron Man. Just a little Friday morning fun.

My original plan was to train like crazy and hope that everyone else who showed up were fat guys from Queens. (I think this is actually Lance Armstrong’s Tour De France plan.) The first part of the plan worked out.

I trained enough to wear out a pair of pedals, bike tires, my wife’s patience, and several toenails. However, the second part of the plan did not work out as well. As I looked around at the other contestants, it didn’t look like anyone was from Queens.

The swimming was in the Alon Shevut pool. Alon Shevut means the “lonely oak tree.” In 1948 when Israel declared its independence and desire to live in peace with its Arab neighbors, this area was attacked by those same Arab neighbors who massacred them and burnt down their homes.

Everything was destroyed except a single Oak Tree. People used to try and see the Oak from the old border. Children who had been evacuated prior to the hostilities used to come look at the Oak from a distance as they grew up hoping to one day return.

In 1967 the area was liberated from Arab military occupation, and today is home to tens of thousands of Jews and Arabs. Unlike our cousins, instead of driving the neighbors out, we just re-built our towns next to theirs. Today, we thrive living in our ancient homeland.

President Obama, do you really think that continued Jewish presence here is illegitimate?

One thing I was not prepared for in the swimming leg was the mass of people all trying to swim in the same area at the same time. I never realized that swimming was such a contact sport. I kept getting hit by arms, legs, and even some one’s head at one point.

Every time I went to breathe, I inhaled water instead of air thanks to the people swimming all around me. I was quite relieved when I finished swimming and headed for my bike. I had the 20th fastest time in the water.

Biking is by far my favorite sport, and I was very glad to start passing some of those pool lizards huffing and puffing on their bikes. Boomer and I have ridden through this area more times than I could count, and I felt at home riding in my backyard.

The bike leg took us first from Alon Shevut to Neve Daniel along a path called Derech Avot, the Path of the Patriarchs. It is so named because this is the path of the Biblical story of the Akedah, the binding of Yitzhak. While your take on the Biblical story is up to you, what is historical fact is that this area was the heart of the Ancient Judean Kingdom.

Along the side of the path is a Mikvah, a Jewish ritual bath that Jewish pilgrims on their way to Jerusalem used to use. There are various ancient Jewish laws describing how to build a Mikva and this one meets them all. All around the area the archaeologists have found other evidence of Jewish life going back thousands of years. This was the ancient heartland of the Jews. It was the Israeli nation hundreds of years before Islam (“the religion of peace”) was born.

President Obama, do you really think that continued Jewish presence here is illegitimate?

I love biking, and I was actually a little hesitant to jump off the bike and throw on my running shoes. I have run many 10km races, but never after swimming and biking. My legs were quite surprised in that they thought we were done for the day when I got off the bike. They were anticipating slippers, not running shoes. I had done well and posted the 10th fastest time on the bikes. But the running shoes awaited. So out we went again.

Part of the run was through the Elazar “outpost.” This is an area that at one time the government of Israel said Jews could legally build their homes on. It’s not like there were Palestinians there who were thrown out of their homes. No, despite the news, such things are actually quite rare.

This land was “legal” until the government decided to deem it “illegal.” So it became one of those terrible collections of houses that the world thinks is the reason we are not sitting in a circle with our Palestinian neighbors singing “Kumbaya.” Yet, Jews being a bit stubborn, decided to build anyway. Despite constant lawsuits from left wing Jewish groups (“Piece Now”), they are still there.

We came around a bend and I could see Nachalin in the distance. Nachalin is an Arab village just a few kilometers away. It is not a nice place, being the hometown to a few notorious terrorists.

At night and in the morning, I can always hear their call to “prayers” and am quite glad that I don’t understand what they are saying. All those in America who think banning the words “militant Islam” from U.S. policy papers is a great idea, have probably never visited the lovely community of  Nachalin.

As I was looking over at Nachalin, I ran past a contingent of Israeli soldiers in full combat gear with M-16s. They were out making sure the neighborhood was quiet and no one seemed to give them a second notice.

I guess it’s just a strange part of life out here that we just accept the need to have combat soldiers guarding our runs. I don’t think the Palestinians ever send soldiers to guard their athletic competitions. Then again, I think they’re too busy singing songs ’bout killing Jews and other fun stuff to focus on athletics.

President Obama, is it really the Jews who are to blame for stalling the ”Peace Piece Process?”

Ah, now I knew I was only a couple kilometers from the finish and with the sun out and some fun songs on the MP-3, I started to pick up the pace. I passed a number of people who were looking a bit green by this point. I think some of them were those whose feet kept hitting me in the mouth during the swim. Yep, didn’t mind passing them one bit.

At last I could see the finish line and really dug deep to cross in style. The event was part of the Gush Etzion Sports Championships that has been sponsored for eight years by my friend Yonaton Segal in honor of his father Zev. What a wonderful way to honor a loved one with an event that pulls hundreds of people from all of Israel together. I know that many of the athletes — especially the really good ones — would have no other reason to come out to the Gush.

I was quite pleased when I realized that my run had brought me up to eleventh place overall and second in the “over forty don’t know their age” division. But the real joy of such an event (and yes, you can be having fun even while grimacing) is not your exact place. It is to be able to embrace this special land and breathe in the holy air around us not from a car or lying around inside a house, but by pushing your body to the breaking point out in the hills.

Is there a finer way you could spend a Friday morning?

So what do you think? You coming next year? Didn’t you promise to do that at Pesach.

L’shana haba B’ Triatalon Gush Etzion Im Yarden

Shabbat Shalom from our Blessed Nation

So isn’t running 42 kilometers by definition dangerous? Actually, not as much as you would believe. Hundreds of thousands of people around the world run marathons and the vast majority are fine except for some temporary aches. (If you are interested, here is an article on the subject: Are Marathons Dangerous? )

Serious medical issues during marathons are rare. With the right preparation, a marathon should be an event that you can look back on all your life with pride and a fond memory. I encourage people to set this goal and then take the time to learn about what it takes. Please don’t take my description of the 2010 Tiveria Marathon as a universal account of what will happen to you.

I believe that G-d gave us bodies that can be vastly improved. Just like the fact that the world is imperfect, our bodies are also. Making our bodies healthier to me is the same as making the world a better place. It should be a goal in life. I do not feel at all that my activities abuse my body, I feel quite the opposite. Richard is right (see last post‘s comments). Our bodies are temples. That’s actually why I do what I do.

So with all that, why was I lying on the ground barely conscious in Tiveria? In simple terms, I was dumb. I could have avoided all the unpleasantness by running a bit slower and drinking a lot more right from the start. As Chaim – the coach and top runner of the club – put it:

So much work had already been done, so much sweat had already been spilled.  All that stood between us and our long awaited goal was one solitary, herculean effort.

Yes, we knew that prudence directed that we modify our goals. However, we had spent too much time carefully planning “marathon pace,” too many workouts carefully running at that precise pace to change our carefully laid plans on the fly.  Yes, we paid lip service to the need to adjust our pace in deference to the weather and run conservatively but we also knew that when the gun went off,  that we would put it all on the line and toss caution to the cruel Eastern winds in a do or die attempt at marathon glory.

Our exuberance and the sheer joy of being out there obscured the fact that it was hot as hell without a shade tree in sight.

Sounds really dumb, I know. Of course do not take “do or die”  literally. I know of no one who would seriously say that running anything was more important than life. But standing on the starting line, it honestly did not feel that hot. For those of us who have never run in this kind of weather, we had no idea just what an impact it can have.

Running a marathon is as much mental as it is physical. You simply must run smart. I did not. However, when I felt really bad, I still had an awareness of my surroundings. There were medics and race officials all around, and they were keeping an eye on us. I knew that I was suffering, but so was every other person running those last ten kilometers.

I believed that if the situation was going to become life threatening, the race officials would step in and cancel the rest of the run. I was very determined to finish, that is true. But I simply did not believe that I was putting myself in grave danger. Perhaps in hindsight I was wrong. Yes I did take a risk. But how great was that risk?

The fact of the matter is every day we place ourselves in danger. Every time we get into a car we take a chance. Those who smoke, eat poorly, and neglect any type of exercise are taking a big risk. By comparison, running a marathon – and especially all the training that you do to get ready – makes you much healthier and lowers your risk of dying tremendously.

To all my friends who moved to Israel from America and elsewhere, did we all not take on a greater risk to our lives? Would we not be safer in suburban America than in a “West Bank Settlement?” Did you ever carry a gun on your way to the mall before moving here? Did your house have a bomb shelter?

Did we not “place ourselves in danger” by moving here? I live within a few kilometers of Arab villages where terrorism is considered “heroic.” Yet I am taking chances by running around the Kinneret?

Let’s be honest here. Accepting some level of risk is a part of all of our lives. That doesn’t mean that we should be reckless and skip a water station while running a marathon. But it also doesn’t mean that we should shy away from our dreams. Simply saying that a big challenge (that hundreds of thousands complete) is too dangerous is a cop-out.

You can take Burgers Bar, I’ll take running marathons.

–

A few more answers to questions I received:

Was the crockodile real?Yes. I have no idea why he was there but there is a crocodile farm not that far away (Hamat Gedar).   The theory is that he escaped. I am sure he was just as confused to see thousands of people running down the road in the heat as we were to see him.

What was with the salt? Sweat contains lots of salt. When it evaporates, you are left with salt deposits. When you have been sweating seriously for a few hours, you look like the coast of the Dead Sea. You need to eat electrolytes during the race to replace the salt (stuff like Gatorade).

Why is your time in the picture different than your finishing time? Unless you are one of the elite runners, you do not start as soon as the gun goes off. You start when the computer chip you have attached to your shoe passes over the start line. The clock at the finish is the time since the first runners started. Your race ends when your shoe crosses the finish line.

Are you nuts? No. I think that people who watch life go by sharing the couch with a bowl of potato chips are nuts.

Are you trying to die? No, I’m trying to live.

Yesterday I completed the Tiveria Marathon for the second time.

It was a day that I will never forget.

And you know what? I’ll wait until the end of this post to determine if that is a good thing.

It has been said that trying to describe a marathon to one who has not completed it is like describing color to someone blind from birth. But I will try.

Finishing itself is a victory

The marathon is 42.2 kilometers or 26 miles. That’s far. Really far. After about 25 kilometers, your body does not react as it usually does. Without drinking and eating special glucose “gels” you will simply collapse. The reason is that you have used up all the sugars in your muscles and they start to digest themselves as your body continues to call for more energy.

While this is occurring, your mind can also break down. You can find yourself talking to yourself and even fighting with your own thoughts which can cry out for you to stop.

Having run the marathon last year I knew all this and had prepared for it. What I did not contemplate – especially considering that this is January – is that brutal heat can take all your carefully laid plans and chuck them in the garbage. It turns a race for a personal best time into a race for survival. You stop running to achieve a fast time, you run to end the agony as quickly as possible.

Training with the Bet Shemesh Running Club had improved my running enormously. I learned pacing, nutrition, and recovery and made some great friends — compatriots in suffering. My speed was way up, and when I finished the Bet Shean Half Marathon a few weeks ago in an hour and thirty-two minutes, I felt I was on track for an amazing time in Tiveria.

In the morning at the hotel, as my roommate and I prepared for the race by smearing Vaseline on our toes, sun block on our noses, and surgical tape on our nipples (yes, that’s right), I laughed and remarked that this is not what a normal person would do on a Friday morning (or any other time for that matter).

Standing at the starting line, I did not even realize how hot it was, I was too excited. I looked around at the crowd of spectators and thought about how much better it is to be a player than a watcher. (One of the reasons I made aliyah as a matter of fact, but that’s another story).

The starting gun went off and the moment I had been waiting for since the race ended last year was finally upon us. We ran packed together for the first few kilometers until the crowd thinned out as everyone settled into their own pace.

The first 21 kilometers was fun. Eight of us from the club ran together, our white, orange and black uniforms forming a solid block. We kept to a great pace (4:45 per kilometer). I had planned to run this pace for half the marathon, and then see if I could kick it up for the second half.

At kilometer 15, there was a crocodile in the road. I really don’t know why he was there but the police made all the runners give it a wide birth. From now on I know that seeing a crocodile is a really bad omen for a runner.

I was grabbing bottles of water along the way and eating my gels. Everything was going completely according to plan. I was happy as the kilometers clicked by and thought about how amazing it would be if I could finish in three hours and twenty minutes.

You know, sometimes not everything goes according to your plans. That’s just life. There is nothing you can do about it except try and adapt and keep moving ahead.

As I reached the halfway point something happened, something bad. I felt like I was running backwards. One by one the guys who I had been running with passed me. Then others runners passed me. I tried to keep up the pace but my legs would not obey. I started feeling dizzy and had no idea what was going on.

The real danger of dehydration is once it hits, it is very hard to do anything about it. At the next water stop I drank a whole bottle and poured another one on my head. It didn’t help. Several kilometers later I couldn’t run any more and started to walk. The 3:30 pacer passed me, and I readjusted my goal to beating last year’s time of 3:50.

I started running again but slowly. I took my headphones off as the music was making me sicker. A race medic came by on a bike and gave me a water bottle. I started running one kilometer segments and then walking for about 30 seconds. Then I was walking for a minute.

I tried focusing on the quote that

pain is temporary, pride last forever

but as I tried to focus on the temporary nature of pain, from somewhere deep inside, I heard my body yell “FU!”

So instead I came up with a better quote for the circumstance, from Dean Karnazes, a well known ultra-marathoner.

Run when you can, walk if you have to, crawl if you must.

Just never give up.

All I wanted during those last few kilometers was to finish. At around the thirty-fifth kilometer, I saw a guy being loaded into an ambulance. Later I was to find out that it was one of the fastest runners from our team who had collapsed. He would be joined by dozens of other runners who passed out from the heat.

I hadn’t realized what a toll the sun had taken on everyone. Hundreds of runners dropped out. Our club had many members who didn’t come close to their goals. I didn’t know any of this. All I knew, all I could focus on, was that I wanted to cross that finish line.

Around the fortieth kilometer I started dancing. It wasn’t on purpose. My legs simply could not keep moving, and I was having trouble controlling the muscles. I started walking again slowly and tried to get them back.

Then I collapsed.

I ended up laying on the ground while my teammates tried to get me to drink. I was pale, encrusted with salt, and had very vague recollection of what was going on.

Over the next few hours I felt even worse. It seemed clear that the pain I experienced was much stronger than the pride of finishing the marathon. Lying on the floor of my hotel room, I looked over at my running shoes and said “I hate you. I hate both of you.” My feet were in such bad shape I went home barefoot.

Yeah. That's right.

But you know, today is a new day. Memories of pain fade. And although I came up short of my goals in the marathon, I feel an amazing sense of pride. Right now, as bad as the feeling of pain had been, the feeling of pride is that much more.

I may forget the details of the run, but I will never forget the details on how I feel right now. Which somehow, despite the above description [originally I was going to call this post "A Day in Hell"], makes it all worth it.

We only live once. Don’t keep putting off your dreams. Whether it is finishing a marathon or something else that you have always wanted to do, now is the time to start.

Our boundaries are not caused by the difficulty of our task, they come from within.

See what you are capable of.

All it takes is will.

Shabbat Shalom from a tired but proud runner in our blessed nation.

With great appreciation for Chaim Wizman and the rest of my teammates in the Bet Shemesh Running Club. We’ll get ‘em next year.

Well look at the price paid by the Palestinians for all these accomplishments-they live in a prison and all efforts to create that 2 state solution seem to go nowhere. The Palestianians [sic] have lost and continue to lose their land, crops and homes to settlements. The Palestianians [sic] are abused , attacked and terorized by settlers with no protection from the Isreali [sic] police and the IDF.

Germany achieved many scientific and engineering marvels and look at the price paid by the peoples of the world during WWI and WWII by the German war machine and aggession [sic].

I don’t know who wrote the comment, but I appreciate the opportunity to set the record straight.

Strawberry fields forever.. in Israel!

First, I had referred to Israeli advances in all sorts of scientific endeavors. The idea that the Palestinians have paid a price because farmers in the Jordan River Valley developed a new way to grow pesticide free strawberries –  and are sharing it with the world – makes no sense.

Advances in medicine, telecommunications, and high speed computing have nothing to do with the dispute with the Palestinians. If anything, they like the rest of the world have benefited from Israeli advances. Ask any Palestinian seeking treatment in an Israeli hospital what he thinks of Israeli medical science.

At Alyn, I have seen kids from Gaza who are only alive due to Israeli technology. So I hope the author of the comment will at least agree that Palestinian suffering is not due to Israeli accomplishments.

The next comment was that Palestinians live “in a prison.” I will not deny that Israeli border restrictions make life difficult for people in Gaza. But the rulers of Gaza are engaged in a war with Israel. The war could easily be ended any second if they accepted and recognized Israel and disavowed the use of violence. But they choose not to. Can you name any country that keeps an open border with a country with which it is at war?

One wall of the "prison" is an Arab country

Besides, I always wonder why it is just Israel blamed for the “siege” of Gaza. Last time I checked on a map, Gaza borders on Egypt. Where are all the attacks against the Egyptians for keeping Gazans in a “prison?”

“all efforts to create that 2 state solution seem to go nowhere”

Well Prime Minister Netanyahu has invited Abbas over and over again to sit down and negotiate a 2 state solution. Abbas has answered that before negotiations begin, Israel must agree to give up everything. Well what would be the point of negotiations then?

We (Israel) have legitimate claims to the land in dispute as do the Palestinians. The only way to reach compromises is through serious negotiation. Yes, I share your dismay that the “peace process is going nowhere.” Why don’t you send an e-mail to Abbas about that?

“The Palestinians have lost and continue to lose their land, crops and homes to settlements.”

Some of the 250 Jews massacred in pre-State Gush Etzion

Sorry, but its just too simple a way to look at this dispute. Jews have also lost land, crops, and homes to Palestinians. The Jewish community in Hevron is a fraction of what it once was. Why? Because the Jews were murdered and the survivors driven out. Now when Jews try to reclaim historical Jewish property there, they are accused of stealing someone else’s land.

I live in Gush Etzion. There were thriving Jewish communities here before 1948. In 1948, the Jews were massacred and the towns were burnt down. In 1967, the rebuilding began and goes on to this day. What’s wrong with that?

Today, we have a court system where those who claim that someone is taking their land can seek redress. And it may surprise you, but the courts have been quite vocal in defending land that is proven to be owned by Palestinians. But you have to understand that you cannot simply label the entire “West Bank” Palestinian land. Doing so is simply inaccurate.

“The Palestinians are abused, attacked and terorized by settlers with no protection from the Isreali police and the IDF.”

There may be isolated incidents where this happens. But there are far more incidents where the police and IDF protect Palestinians from the tiny minority of Jewish extremists. Personally, as a settler, I vehemently reject any type of attacks on Palestinians or their property.

From today’s Ha’aretz:

A special border police battalion was assigned to protect the farmers from settlers’ attacks during the harvest, which began this week.

The forces – at least twice as large as in previous years, IDF officers say – were deployed around the illegal Havat Gilad outpost at the beginning of the week. On Tuesday they protected harvesters near the Yitzhar settlement and intend to safeguard other West Bank areas including around Hebron.

The Palestinians are our neighbors. They built my house and almost every other house, synagogue, and shop in Neve Daniel and every other settlement. The majority of settlers like myself believe in peaceful coexistence. Stop believing everything you read in the media. We do not terrorize them. Last time I checked we were the ones who had to guard our communities.

Is the World that dumb?

So finally you close with the old Jew baiting reference to the Nazis. Lots of people who dislike Israel try and use this, but it just doesn’t fit. We don’t murder or enslave Palestinians. We employ them, work with them, and treat them in our hospitals. While our enemies like to use propaganda to convince the world that we are monsters, these are just Big Lies.

Still, I appreciate that you wrote in and hope that you will consider my response.

I’m not a Nazi. Just a guy who runs and loves his country.

Put on a pair of sneakers and just run.

Running in Israel is more than just exercise. Every step you take, every hill, every trail has some history behind it.

Get your heart beating fast, it feels good. Gaze out at the views and think how incredibly fortunate you are to be right here, right at this point in history.

Work up a sweat and reflect how many people throughout history longed for every square inch of land passing below your feet. Reflect on how many people made the ultimate sacrifice so that you could live here freely.

Run faster with your arms pumping.  You feel like nothing can stop you as the kilometers fall away one by one.

When I moved to Israel four and a half years ago , if you would have told me that I was about to run my second full distance marathon, I would have thought you insane.

Of course, four and a half years before that, if you would have told me that I would be living in the land of Israel, I would have viewed you as equally insane.

What is it about this place that makes us stretch to reach and pass our limits?

Perhaps the air encourages dreaming. Hertzl was right, “If you will it, it is no dream.” Right you go Ted. Perhaps more than you ever imagined.

Every day, Israelis turn dreams into reality. Sorry to all the post-Zionists, but we have never been and never will be a nation like all the others. A tiny spit of land with very little natural resources continues to produce miracles every day.

Every day you can read about breakthroughs in high tech, agriculture, medicine, you name it. From innovative start-ups to Nobel Prize winners (I mean the ones awarded for actual accomplishments), we produce more than our share by far.

In a few years, when you are driving your electric car around and watching how Saudi Arabia is trying to find an export market for sand, you can thank this tiny and often maligned little land.

And yes, despite what you may read, it is the Israeli “war machine” that has done more to safeguard civilians than any other army in history. By the way, that was said by a Brit, not an Israeli. Don’t believe me? I don’t care, the facts are out in the open.

This is the land where the difficult becomes the average and the impossible becomes possible.

We can do whatever we dream. All it takes is will.

Now get some sneakers and join me in Tiveria for a little run around the Kinneret next week.

No limits.

Yarden puts a foot down

Today’s ride was a fairly tame single near Moshav Agur. Drive down Route 38 from Bet Shemesh past Tsomet Ayala. Make a right turn to Agur and you will find a parking lot off to your right about 2 km up the road.

The single take about 50 minutes if there are no “mishaps.” “Mishaps” is my word for anything from a flat tire to someone breaking a leg. We had one of the former today — none of the latter.

Of course the only picture that L took of me is the one time I put my foot down (thanks L!), but Boomer did great and the ride was good fun.

This kicks off a week which started with the stomach flu that took me out of action Shabbat and Sunday. But then things turned around,  and I managed to get a good run, a long swim, and two rides in. BTW — I started the Neve Daniel Marathon Training club for those who want to run the Tiveria Marathon in January. Next session is tomorrow night, one hour after Shabbat ends.

4:00 A.M. Neve Daniel: I wake up and look outside. It is cold and raining. I wonder if I have finally done it: bitten off more than I can chew by entering the 42.2 kilometers Tiveria Marathon. Six months ago, it seemed like a worthy goal. I have always envisioned the marathon as the ultimate challenge for the normal guy. Really, from what I had read, anyone can complete a marathon. It just takes a commitment to training and the ability to deal with pain. Why not? Now as I picked up my support crew, I wondered if I was really ready.

9:00 Tiveria. Starting Line: I was standing packed together with a few thousand other runners. Everyone just wanted to start as the clock counted down. A few minutes before the start, someone yelled that there were missiles being fired into the North. We all had the same thought – Get the race started before the Army cancels it!. (We’re running a marathon so assume that we are all a little nuts.)

12 kilometers: O.K., the sun is out, it feels great. As I run, I look across the Kinneret at the beautiful Golan Heights. Forget about military strategy or politics – the very notion of giving up such a beautiful treasure seems more unthinkable when you are looking at the mountains.

Halfway Point, Kibbutz Ein Gev: Hmmm. This is just half way. I think this is going to be hard. Pushed down a few energy gels. Despite the wonderful labels (“vanilla pudding,” “apple-cinnamon pie”) they taste the same: like a mixture of toothpaste and Elmer’s glue. Instead of grabbing a bottle of water at the water break, I reached for a cup of some type of blue energy drink. I ended up getting a few drops in my mouth and the rest on my face. Note: It’s hard to drink from a cup while running.

30 kilometers. What the hell was I thinking! My body is killing me, and I still have another 12.2 kilometers to go. I catch a guy and we pace each other for a few kilometers. I am now spending all my time staring ahead looking for the kilometer markers. At one point I thought I was up to 34 kilometers and then I saw the marker for 33. I used a string of very choice profanity on the innocent sign.

34 kilometers: I actually heard my body have the following conversation:
Legs: Hey Brain! What the hell is going on! Is someone chasing us or something? Maybe it would be better to let them catch us. Brain?
Brain: Bedebedebedebede.
Heart: I have switched off brain. He’s not making any sense. Just keep moving.
Legs: Why not take a hacksaw and cut us off above the knees. It would feel more pleasurable than continuing.

35 kilometers: I pass my support crew. They are yelling at me to keep going. One hands me a banana. Unable to think through the process of eating the banana I run with it until he takes it back and peels it. The pain is now complete, my muscles are on fire. If you had asked me my name at this point, I would have answered “aardvark.” Me and the guy next to me have a conversation consisting completely of grunts. Funny thing is, I understood him perfectly.

42 kilometers. Aren’t we done? What was that: 42 POINT TWO! That’s a joke right? I don’t have 200 meters left. I don’t have 200 centimeters left. I hate this! I want to go home, these other people are crazier than me. Why did I decide to do this? Someone let me out! I’ll be good, I promise.

Finish Line. 3 hours, 50 minutes, 38 seconds after starting.

How can one feel euphoria and intense full body pain at the same time? I lean against a fence with the finisher’s medallion around my neck. As I look at the other finishers we all share the same thought:

We paid money to do this to our bodies!

—

No matter who we are or what we do, I have come to the realization that the essence of life is to push ourselves – to take on tasks that at first appear too difficult. The task can be anything from making Aliyah, to taking on religious observances to running a marathon. But to complete the task that one day had seemed impossible gives a feeling like no other. It’s a feeling that can’t be purchased or found by chance.

The State of Israel and the Jewish people are always finding ourselves in impossible situations. Very few people in the world really want to be reasonable and understand just what we are trying to do. I read today that the United Nations Security Council had declared a cease-fire in Gaza. Funny, I don’t recall that they were the ones doing the fighting.

Yet sometimes we must reject all the naysayers who declare what we can and can’t do. If the objective is a worthy one, then we need to go ahead and get the job done.

For Josh, Eli, Yonaton and all the other guys deep inside Gaza – thank you for giving me the opportunity to pursue my dreams. While your task is far harder than running a race, I have no doubt that you will get the job done and get it done well.

Friends, you can do anything. All it takes is will.

Shabbat Shalom from our blessed nation.

Much gratitude to my support crew of Avi and Ari Eastman. You guys are the best!

Running is like biking - same outfit, fewer moving parts

Last Thursday I decided to enter a running race. What makes this decision a little strange is that I cannot honestly describe myself as a runner. You know the type: someone who runs in all types of weather and uses glue to keep their running shoes from disintegrating. No, I like to ride bikes and stay in shape, but until a few months ago, I never really ran anywhere unless I was late.

So for some reason I am not completely sure about, I decided to enter a “half-marathon.” I had heard that there is a race in Bet Shean that is mostly flat and would be fun. But I figured a “half-marathon” would be tough, but how difficult can anything be if it starts with the word “half?”

So I ran about twice a week for a couple of months and then drove up to Bet Shean. I was pretty excited that I was able to register and make it to the starting line. I consider it a success every time I am able to navigate my way through a non-English event using crude Hebrew, facial expressions, and a lot of pointing. Sure enough, I got my number, found a bathroom, and was in the right place for the starting gun.

We started running and I was having a blast. Thousands of runners started off together and hearing everyone’s running shoes hitting the pavement at the same time is really neat. There were all different types of people there: religious, secular, young, old – and there I was right in the middle just thinking how much fun it was to be running in the sun in the middle of the land of Israel. I was getting a little tired but feeling proud to be holding my own and then I saw a flag with a marker under it. The marker said “Three Kilometers.” Hmm… Maybe this would be a long day.

As I ran, I could not help but think that not too long ago, enemy missiles reached all the way to Bet Shean. (Remember that little war where we acted “disproportionately?”) I also thought about the image that most people around the world, including supporters of Israel, see on the news. Israelis are not running around in half-marathons. We are all running screaming away from bombings. We don’t gather in large numbers in public, right? We are afraid to go to public events for fear that someone will start shooting. At least that is the image that is beamed into everyone’s homes around the world.

Now, of course, I am not naïve and know that our nation has suffered more than our share of pain. We do sometimes have to take precautions that you wouldn’t think of in the U.S. “Let’s not take that road today, there were kids throwing rocks at cars there yesterday.” Yet the political situation does not impact our lives as much as you would think. My Israel is not a place of sirens, and guns, and bombs. My Israel is a place of mountain bikes, midnight hikes, and running in the sun. Both places exist, we must each determine which one we see ourselves in.

So as the kilometers flew (well actually crawled) by, I thought about how fortunate I am to live here, in this giant, crazy, lovable playground.

As far as I am concerned, the real Israel is not on the news, it’s under our feet.

Shabbat Shalom from our blessed nation.