9/11 "United We Run" Series: Orio Palmer: Battalion Chief, Father, Hero, Runner





With the exception of track and field relay competitions – such as the 440 relay – running is not exactly considered a team sport.

But maybe it should be.

While most of us run by ourselves (and mostly for ourselves, i.e., our physical strength, our mental health, to build stronger, faster, better bodies), the truth is that Running benefits many people outside of oneself. It allows us to be better mothers, sisters, aunties, spouses, and employees. It allows us to have the stamina to live our passions, to pick up our babies with ease, and most importantly, to come to the aid of our fellow man.

That is the case with New York Fire Department (NYFD) Battalion Chief Orio Palmer.

Ten years ago, on that fateful day of 9/11, Palmer was the first firefighter to arrive at the floor of the World Trade Center where United Flight 175 had entered the building.

Palmer – an avid Marathon runner – climbed to the 78th floor of the World Trade Center at a rapid clip of 12 floors every ten minutes – with full gear strapped to his back. Along the way, he singlehandedly fixed a broken elevator, repaired FDNY’s faltering radio system, and helped usher countless people down the stairs as he continued to climb.

Many other firefighters entered the World Trade Towers before Palmer that morning, but his marathon training is credited with his ability to make it to the top of the tower several minutes before any of his teammates. First on the scene at the so-called “elevator bridge” on that 78th floor, he sent yet more survivors to the ground floor using the elevator he had just fixed. His early condition reports also helped emergency responders direct survivors to the still-functioning South stairwell, which provided the best means of escape. To this day, there is no way of knowing precisely how many lives Palmer saved that day as a result of his speed. But the numbers are probably in the high hundreds.

When radio transmissions were made public after 9/11, Palmer’s brother remarked that he could tell by the cadence of his brother’s voice as he climbed the floors that he was pacing himself and wisely conserving oxygen – no doubt tricks of the trade he learned as a firefighter, and as a Marathoner.

While Palmer and his crew died when the South Tower collapsed just a few minutes after his last radio transmission, there is no question that his athletic agility and sheer speed saved countless lives of his fellow man. It is proof that although we may think we run for ourselves, the benefits of our sport are truly meant to be shared with all of humanity.

9/11. Never Forget.

United We Run

With the kickoff of various 9/11 "10th Anniversary" specials this week, I thought it fitting to dedicate today's blog to those affected by 9/11.

While I'm certain this year's 10th Anniversary commemoration will be no less than spectacular, in my view, no greater tributes have taken place than the ones that occured in the running community immediately following 9/11.

In every race – from the Boston Marathon to the New York City Marathon to the Marine Corps Marathon in Washington, D.C. that year – one thing stood out. It was a simple, yet powerful, message written on the backs of t-shirts in virtually every race I witnessed.

Three simple words: United We Run.

As Runners, we have a community of our own. One that sometimes requires few words. Whether it's the simplest act during a routine run (such times when a polite nod of the head will do), or after an enormous tragedy like 9/11, we have a language all our own.

I recall that the Marine Corps Marathon in Washington, D.C. went ahead as planned just weeks after the terrorist attacks, despite serious security concerns. And I am told that 25,000 runners fell silent as they ran the stretch of road past the Pentagon. Still missing much of its Western wall (and in its place, a simple large American flag hanging over the space where the exterior wall used to be), its new devastated form caused the crowd to fall silent. As more and more runners flooded around the corner and into view of the burned out Pentagon, a hush fell over the crowd. All you could hear was the pitter-patter of feet on the pavement.

What I found even more striking was the sea of United We Run t-shirts flowing past the Pentagon. So many white shirts bobbing up and down and drifting past, it was almost ghost-like. There was a photo of it posted on the website after the race. I wish I had saved the picture.

Ten years down the line from 9/11, I'm still convinced that a good run is the best way to honor the fallen of 9/11 because running so intimately symbolizes freedom. Freedom to go where you want, when you want, with whomever you want.

On this 10th Anniversary of 9/11, I will start my run for the victims at exactly 8:46a.m., the moment the first plane hit the World Trade Towers. And I will set my stopwatch and pause at 9:02a.m., the moment the second plane hit the other Tower. I will pause again at 9:37a.m. when the third plane hit the Pentagon. And at 10:03a.m. when the plane full of heroes went down in that Pennsylvania field. I will conclude my run at 10:28a.m., the minute that the final World Trade Tower fell. I will use this hour and forty-five minutes to reflect upon what the victims on those flights and in those Towers were going through during this window of time. I encourage you to do the same, or perhaps run one of the many "United We Run" races in your area that benefit the families (simply Google "United We Run" along with your city and state), or honor the victims and their families in whatever way you feel is best.

Over the next two weeks, I'll be honoring 9/11 rescuers and heroes of that day – who, I'm sure you won't be surprised to find out, just happened to be Runners.

9/11. Never Forget.

Saturday Morning, Out for a Spin...

I've been taking orders lately.

From Nike Fit, that is.

A few weeks ago, I signed up for Nike Fit's "Get Lean" app. on Facebook. It's like having a personal trainer in your Inbox every morning. For the most part, I've been following their orders. And I like it, in a sick sort of way.

This morning, Nike Fit informed me that today was a "ladies' choice" of sorts - meaning, I could take a Spin Class, or run 4 miles. (The truth is, I'll probably do both today - after all, it is my day off from work.)

So I grabbed the girls and headed out for a Spin. One hour later, my early morning workout was accomplished, leaving me with the rest of the day free to do as I wish.

My lesson for today: sometimes you just have to let go and let someone else take the wheel. See where it takes you. Who knows, you might just like it.

The First 5 Minutes are Always the Hardest

I was reading an interesting tip the other day. I believe it was from Bart Yasso, Chief Running Officer of Runners World magazine.

He said that if you can make it through the first five minutes of a run, chances are you can make it through the duration of your run – whether it’s one mile, or ten.

The reason? The first five minutes of running produce a shock to your body. The human body goes from being sedentary, to full-throttle, in the span of just a few seconds. But after the initial shock, your system settles into a rhythm.

This makes sense in the running world. And to me, it makes even more sense in other areas of life.

In life, I'd like to suggest that the first five minutes are always the hardest. Whether it’s starting that project you’ve been procrastinating, doing your homework, writing a presentation, getting over the initial shock of a breakup, sitting down to pen a blog post, or simply getting out of bed at some ungodly hour in the morning – I firmly believe the first five minutes are the hardest. But now we know: If you do it, for just five minutes, you just might get through it.

Maybe that’s why Nike said, “Just Do It.” Perhaps they’ve known all along that the first five minutes are the hardest, but that those five minutes are also the secret to success. Darn those people at Nike, they're so smart. Whatever the case, this revelation has changed my view on training and has encouraged me to take a more positive view of the first five minutes of my runs.

In running, and in life, I now know that if I can make it through the first 300 seconds, I can make it through anything.

Unsportsmanlike Conduct

Of all the sporting news of the current MLB season and the upcoming football season, one unfortunate trend keeps stealing the headlines: violence at major sporting events.

Last night, at a pre-season NFL game between the San Francisco 49ers and Oakland Raiders, two men were shot multiple times after an altercation in the parking lot, and one man was beaten in the men’s restroom at Candlestick Park. All of this, just a few months after San Francisco Giants baseball fan Brian Stow was beaten at Dodgers Stadium on Opening Day. Stow remains in a coma more than four months later.

It's high time for a "time out." This unsportsmanlike conduct is uncalled for, and it is unacceptable in our civilized society.

As athletes, we ought to expect better of the game. As fans, we must behave with more decorum. Sure, we all have emotions. And those emotions ride high during sporting events and other occasions. But we’re not animals. We can keep our emotions in check. We have to check violence at the door.

What’s the solution? Public officials have suggested everything from metal detectors to a widescale ban on alcohol at stadiums. Both solutions have merit, but we can’t just treat the superficial wound. The root of the solution lies in expecting better of ourselves.

If I owned an NFL team, I would bring the League's top players, coaches and owners together immediately to record a stirring Public Service Announcement asking fans to cease the violence. It may sound silly, but fans of professional sporting teams tend to put so much stock in the words and images of professional athletes, you never know, it just might make a difference.

America, we can do better. Let's stop the violence. Let's get our heads back in the game.

If the Shoe Fits...

During my hunt for a new pair of running shoes, I came across a cool tool I feel I must pass on to my fellow runners.

RunnersWorld Magazine invented an interactive "Shoefinder" which makes finding the perfect pair a snap.

There are three ways to search. You can use their "Shoe Advisor" which asks you 10 questions about your arches, footstrikes, and how many miles you log each week.

Or, if you're like me and just love, love, LOVE your current shoe and can't seem to part with it, you can use their "Shoes Like Mine" tool. Simply enter your current make and model, and voila! they'll serve up 10 pairs that have similar fit and function. How cool is that.

Lastly, if you already have a pair in mind and just want to see how they stack up to others, use the "Advanced Search" and see comparisons on something like 13 different dimensions.

Go to http://www.RunnersWorld.com/ShoeFinder and go to town!

As for my search, I've narrowed down my choices. I know, it's been a couple of weeks. But like so many people out there, I'm busy! Plus, you can't blame a girl for taking so long to decide. Important life decisions like fine wine, men, and running shoes all take time.

Run Like a Champion Today

With the broadcast of the first NFL game this week (albeit pre-season), America caught its first whiff of Fall. The official kick-off to Football season is just around the corner.

I don’t know about you, but nothing quite inspires me like College football.  There’s something different about college ball. The players still have an innocence about them. They aren’t afraid of getting hurt, they’re still hungry for it, and they play their hearts out ‘til the final second on the clock.

It inspires me this time of year. And it inspires my running. So much so, I just loaded a compilation of the best college Fight Songs onto my iPod. Believe me, nothing works better for sprint training than pretending you’re running out of the tunnel and onto the field with the team at a home game. But, perhaps I’ve shared too much.

At any rate, my favourite quote during football season is the legendary “Play Like a Champion Today.”  Most fans associate the quote with Notre Dame football, but the fact is the quote originated at my alma mater, The University of Oklahoma, in the late 1940s through coach Bud Wilkinson. According to Wikipedia it was nearly four decades later, in 1986, that coach Lou Holtz requested a sign be made with the saying and hung in the Notre Dame locker room. But no matter, the quote serves its purpose – whether you’re in South Bend, or just South of Oklahoma City.

I love the sign because it’s simple, yet stirring. It conjures up images of champions who have gone before us – and the champion that lies within all of us. It doesn’t say, “Play well today” or “Stay safe out there.” It says, “Play Like a Champion Today.”

The original "Play Like a Champion Today" sign, on display today
at the Barry Switzer Center at The University of Oklahoma.


What’s your favourite sports quote? What gets you motivated?

Whatever it is, post it where you can see it. High-five it. Live it. Love it.

Gone with the Schwinn

 

"It's a good thing frogs can hop, otherwise I'd be gone with the Schwinn!" ~ Kermit the Frog

 
















I went to my first spin class last night.

For the first 45 minutes, I hated it. I fully realize that’s a long time to hate any activity, especially one I voluntarily entered into. But it’s true. Felt as if my feet were strapped into a medieval torture device that kept spinning 'round and 'round and 'round and... well, you get the point.

You see, I’ve never really been a great bicyclist. Not since I was seven years old and cracked my skull during a gnarly bike accident on an old country lane in Puerto Rico. I think the nearest emergency room was about 150 miles away. (That was the first of my nine, cat-like lives.)

When I was ten, I wanted to be like all the teenagers in my neighborhood who cruised down the street without their hands on the handlebars. They made it look so easy. Well, it just so happened, the moment I tried this feat saying, “Look ma, no hands!” the front tire hit an uneven patch of pavement. I was thrown over the front handlebars and skidded on my left cheek for several feet. Me and bicycles, we’ve never really gotten along.

Yet last night, there I was. Looking down the shiny barrel of a Schwinn. Trying to make amends after all these years.

As my muscles burned, I tried desperately to think of something else – anything else – than what I had gotten myself into. I wondered, was it too late to jump off of the bike? Pretend I had mistakenly walked into the wrong class? Mistakenly gone to all of the trouble of dragging the cycle over to my corner of the classroom? My classmates would hardly fall for it. They were sweaty, but they weren't stupid.

So, I kept pedaling. My legs responded to the cues being barked out by the spin instructor. Out of saddle! Hill training! Crank up the tension a notch, another quarter turn! While pedaling, I tried to inspire myself by making a mental list of the thinnest, most fit people I know - all of whom just happen to take spin class. It pleasantly confirmed that this workout must be a caloric barn burner. I thought of Lance Armstrong, Lars Boom, and all of those other waifish cyclists strutting around in their spandex shorts. This would all be worth it in the end, I mused.

Then, my mind drifted to what it means to stick something out. Especially when you’re uncomfortable. Especially when you’re trying something new. Or in my case, something so old it feels like new.

As adults, I think we get so locked into our daily routine (even our workout routine), that we forget to challenge ourselves, to challenge our bodies. To step outside of our comfort zone. Ironically, it was around that point I actually began to feel more comfortable.

Then, something happened. We entered the cooldown phase. A full 45 minutes had passed. Suddenly, my legs relaxed, the pedals started flowing, and I felt like a kid riding downhill on a sweet summer day. Not a pothole in sight.

It was at that moment I realized: I have made peace with the bike.

By no means am I giving up running. No siree. I have no plans to go out and purchase a shiny new toy any time soon. Nor become the next Lana Armstrong. But overcoming my fear of the bike? Well, it will certainly help me add one more tool to my training toolbox – one more cross-training routine for my repertoire – in this long journey of physical fitness. All of which will help me make it to the starting line of the marathon this Fall.

Let's roll!

Hemingway Lied, My Knees Died

There is a classic Hemingway quote that reads, “We’re all a little stronger in the broken places.”

Now, I love Hemingway’s works. A Moveable Feast. Farewell to Arms. The Old Man and the Sea. No one can argue with those strokes of genius. But suggesting that a person is actually stronger in their broken places? Well, that seems a stretch too far, especially for any runner who is working hard to overcome the lifelong skull drudgery of dealing with a serious knee injury.

I don’t want to doubt Hemingway. In fact, I have to hand it to ‘ole salty:  Hemingway knew a thing or two about pain.

In World War I, as an ambulance driver in combat, Hemingway was injured so badly he was sent home from war. Many years later while on safari in Africa, he was severely injured in a plane crash that nearly took his life. Both incidents left him in pain and with a significantly lower quality of life than he had enjoyed before. It's clear he spoke with authority on the topic.

However, Hemingway ended up disproving his own theory in the end.  After presumably attempting to drink away the pain for years with little to no success, Hemingway shot himself. And while many suggest it was the result of mental illness, I suspect it was largely from the chronic pain. Maybe the old guy just couldn’t take it anymore.

The final chapter hasn’t yet been written for the rest of us. I’m three years out from my own injury but still putting up with physical limitation and pain, although the days are long gone since I felt like pulling a Hemingway.

Time will tell. It will tell how many miles we'll log. How many races we’ll run. How many more years we'll be able to forge on these creaky knees that God and our mamas gave us. But just for tonight, I'm perfectly content to pop a cork, settle in, and raise a glass to the Old Man and my Knees…

What's Your Hour?

There’s a humourous scene in the pilot episode of The West Wing, where White House Press Secretary C.J. Cregg (played by Allison Janney) cherishes the one whole hour she has to herself each day. In this particular instance, she chooses to use it jogging on a treadmill before the workday begins.

“This is my hour,” C.J. says optimistically. “From 5a.m. to 6a.m. every day, this is my hour. I can do anything I want during this hour. I can use it to run, read the paper, even meet a man. Well, alright, it might be a little early to meet a man. But this is my hour.”

Her soliloquy gets interrupted by the manic beeping of her White House pager. She reads the breaking news, her eyes grow big, then she falls off the treadmill. Cue the opening theme music.

I don’t know about you, but being a political Press Secretary myself, this is sometimes how our days go.

The question is, outside of our day jobs, where do we fit in that beloved one hour for a run?

I’m probably not the only one who has this question. I am sure there are busy executives, politicians, World leaders, and stay-at-home moms who are in the same predicament: how can I possibly escape for one hour to get a run in?

I’m curious to know when you fit your run in:  4a.m.? 5a.m.? Immediately after work? Or is it somewhere around the bewitching hour (midnight), which I have also done.

What’s your hour?

Run for Conor

While searching for 5K races the other day, I stumbled across a webpage that stopped me in my tracks.

It is the story of Conor Lynch.

A model student and high school athlete, Conor Lynch was running with his cross country track team in the Los Angeles suburb of Sherman Oaks last October when he was hit and killed by a car. Only 16 years old and a junior in high school, he died at the scene.

A story like this is so unspeakable, as a human being it's difficult to find words to do it justice.

While reading Conor's story, I was reminded of the dire statistic that 9 out of 10 people who get hit by a car as a pedestrian do not survive.

And although our outcomes were different, the story is eerily familar.

I was hit by a car as a pedestrian 3 1/2 years ago around the same time in the afternoon, at a similar time of year, on a similarly idyllic neighborhood street, and likewise, by a similarly distracted driver.  After reading about Conor and, I admit sobbing for some time, I realized something profound. I felt a connection with this young man not only because we both got hit by cars. But because we were both Runners.

There's something about the running community that bonds us all together. If one of us goes down, we all feel the pain. If one gets left behind, we wait for the person at the next corner to catch up. Yes, even if we'd rather be selfishly training for time. It's just what we do. Therefore, it pains me there is nothing that any of us can do now for this young man.

Or is there?

A visit to Conor's public memorial Facebook page shows that he was so loved by his parents, brothers, aunties, teachers, coaches and many friends (more than 7,000 of them!), one gets the sense that his death has left a gaping hole that may never be filled. But by all accounts, I also get the sense he would want us to lace up our shoes and take the first step and at least try.

So, for starters: I'd like to encourage my friends in Southern California to join me in running (or at least supporting) the Conor Lynch 5K this October 16th to honor this young man and the winning spirit he embodied.

Beyond race day, I'd like to make a personal plea on behalf of Conor, myself, and the more than 500,000 people who are killed or seriously injured each year by distracted drivers:

Those of you who still text and drive, or who have friends who still text and drive (or Facebook and drive, Tweet and drive, check your e-mail and drive, or simply cellphone and drive), please share this story. Tell your friends. Post it on your Wall. Tweet it. (When you're not driving, of course). Put a face with the name. Look at this picture. Then ask yourself: could you live with yourself if you took the life of a young person like this with so much promise? Don't think it couldn't happen. It's exactly what could happen. It happens every day in our communities. It could happen tomorrow on your way to work. It could happen tonight on your way home. On your next conference call in the car. Believe me when I say, it can happen in the blink of an eye.

Hang up and drive. Because the truth is that other than participating in this inaugural run, sparing another human life is the best way you can honor the life and memory of this champion, who is no doubt running across the finish line in Heaven. 

Rest in peace, Conor.