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Why would a guy with a large family, a new job, and a running obsession take on a new daily commitment? Although I would love to tell you the answer, I can't. I'm trying to figure it out for myself.

You don't have to be in my world, or even Jewish to have heard about the event that took place this past August at Met Life Stadium. Intrigued by a gathering involving tens of thousands of Orthodox Jews, the media covered this past summer's Daf Yomi Siyum. The event involved the completing of the entire Talmud at a rate of two pages per day over a seven and a half year period. For the uninitiated, this might not sound so challenging, but imagine studying a text in a foreign language, with no punctuation and vowelization, while reading legal arguments about abstract and occasionally arcane topics, and you begin to get a clue of what is involved. Now imagine doing this every single day for more than seven years. On vacation? Doesn't matter? In the hospital? Keep on studying. Not in the mood? Too bad. Amazingly, there are tens of thousands of people who did this and continue to do so as the new cycle is underway.

I was there at the stadium that day. Not as one of those completing the talmud, or, even as a celebrant. I felt that, as a father, I should bring my older sons with me. I was in the middle of a prolonged crisis of faith, where serious talmudic study and even prayer, felt like a burden. Unlike many who were in the crowd that night, I left the stadium with no plan of joining the new cycle which would begin the following day.

It hadn't always been that way. After finally figuring how to study talmud in my 20s, I dove in pretty seriously. I openly spoke of my plan to finish before I reached the age of 40. I made progress, both through the Daf Yomi system, as well as more in depth study with friends. Then life happened and I fell off the wagon a bit. I comforted myself by telling myself that my teaching to my students counted as a form of study. Before I knew it, the goal of finishing the talmud faded from my mind. In fact, I started a new form of daily communion; running.

Where I had once felt the need to master Jewish law, lore and philosophy, I now felt a need to do speed work and hill repeats. While Jewish law kept me from developing one of those obsessive streaks of running every day, I soon was running each day when it was permissible. While I occasionally felt guilty, I had a plethora of answers that kept my guilt from growing strong enough to move me to change.

I felt like a hypocrite as I encouraged my children and students to study, while I did not. My feeling of unease grew as I started to struggle with religious doubts. I didn't exactly embrace them, but I can't say that I worked hard for answers.

Amazingly, my oldest son, who already spends many hours a day studying talmud, started to do the Daf. Although I occasionally studied with him, I didn't think much about it. It was more of a way to connect with my son, than a religious act.

Recently, I decided to stop being passive and started poking at my doubts. I had some good conversations, read some good books and essays, and did a little soul searching. On Yom Kippur I made a somewhat modest decision. I decided I would join with Daf Yomi for the next volume of the talmud. For the next six months, I will be trying an experiment. As I travel for work, I will continue my study. As the due date of our 8th child approaches, I will do the daf. As I feed my addictive personality with daily doses of mileage, I will give it a second helping as I study each day.

Where will this lead me? I have no idea. As I occasionally do when I put on my running shoes, I am going to just get started and see where I end up.

Desks, Running and Learning

12 years is a long time to sit at a desk. Although I know my son Ashi won't actually be sitting in one for that long, I felt a sense of trepidation as I watched him go off to school to begin first grade this morning.

As many of you know, one of my biggest challenges, and hence, one of the things I write about the most, is my relationship with my sons. I often struggle with letting my boys become who they want to be, instead of forcing them into the place where I want them to reside. This manifests itself in all sorts of ways; from sports to religion to religion (did I mention religion?). Of course, as I became obsessed with running, and even moderately successful, I had to fight the urge to try and get my sons to become runners. Of course, my oldest sons being teenagers, helped me, by reminding me that anytime I pushed too hard, they would respond with a pull the other way.

All of that made running my first race on Thursday night, with not one, but both of my oldest sons, so special. I didn't push them, threaten them or even try and bribe them, I just invited and they accepted. I can't deny that I was particularly pleased afterward to hear them talking about bringing down their times at their next race.

Which brings me back to Ashi, who today began the transition from play-time, nap-time and story time, to desks, homework and blackboards. I fear that he will have a hard time sitting still, as some male Sommers, perhaps even myself, experienced in the past. As a (former?) teacher, I know that not every student is cut out for classroom learning, and that much of what we make them do, has no real connection to what they will need to do later on in life.

Of course, there are all sorts of things that I hope he will learn and love. I hope his teachers and I remember that learning happens in a ll sorts of places from classes to parks. While sitting still and running fast.

Breathe

I can't breathe, but I push on. This is why I've never really liked 5Ks. The pain, the struggle to bring oxygen into my heaving lungs. I keep looking at my watch to see how much farther I have to go. Almost there.

The past few weeks have brought a number of races and a few concerts, two things that seem unconnected, even if one did involve the singing of “Born to Run”. Still, there was a common element. As I watched Bruce with my brother at Fenway, and Moshav Band with my wife, I felt like I feel after crossing the line in a short race; the amazing feeling as air fills my body and my breathing goes back to normal.

I never realized how much I need music until my father passed away. That year, as I followed the Jewish custom of not listening to music as a sign of mourning, I felt an extra level of pain. I don't know whether I might have been able to receive rabbinical permission to listen, but I didn't ask. The very night that the year of mourning was over, I went to a concert and I felt it. As I listened to the music I had that feeling. I was breathing again.

It varies from time to time, what I want to hear, or more correctly what I need to hear. I have my ideas as to why it changes, but I'll save that for another time and place. Either way, I've found it interesting that as I've been to these concerts, I've reconnected with the pain of shorter races; not only accepting it, but embracing it. I don't think it's by chance that as I've done so, I've been able to set a few PRs and even win a trophy for winning my age group.

I am pretty sure that the pain and discomfort are what make the breathing feel so good. I can't even claim it's a tradeoff that I would willingly make. Still, there is something about pushing and fighting through the pain, accepting that it's there, and the wonderful feeling that comes as, just for the moment, I take in the oxygen and just breathe.

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The Evangelical Rabbi Learns a Lesson

A friend once called me, only semi-jokingly, an evangelical runner. Having gained so much from running, I try to share it with others (Want to lose weight? Try running. Want to be happier? Try running. Want to get rid of bad breath? Try running). When asked about how to make time for running, I generally said something deep and sophisticated like “Do you have time to be in the hospital?”.

Well call it divine providence, karma, luck, comeuppance or my preferred term, God's sense of humor, but this summer, I've learned to be a little less preachy.

It has often been said, with only the tiniest amount of exaggeration, that the two best parts of teaching are July and August. Having left teaching after 16 years, to start Team Just One Life, I am no longer off from work in the summer. In fact, I am not only working but find myself on the road, recruiting for the team. From the pork capitol of America (Washington D.C.) to the dairy capitol of America (upstate New York. OK I know it's not, but even the dog I saw there, was white with black spots) I am seeing the world, or at least the Northeast corridor of the US, which to a former New Yorker, might as well be the world.

Well, between the long hours, and the time on the road, I have had a harder time getting out on the road in the best sense of the term, RUNNING. It seems that it's a little easier to train when you are working from 8-2:30 with a break in the summer. Fear not, I am still getting in 50+miles a week, but it does mean waking up at ungodly hours and being a bit more flexible.

I still think running might be the answer to practically all that ails the world (get Abbas and Netanyahu to run together and there would be peace within 5 miles), as well as what ails man (I can practically swear that I feel my hair follicles starting to sprout again). Still, I'm a little less smug than I used to be and will understand if you can only mange 45 miles a week.

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Take the Leap

I received a friend request from my father-in-law the other day. At first, I have to admit, I thought it was a little strange. He's not exactly in the age demographic of most Facebook users. Still, upon giving it some thought, I thought it was pretty cool that he signed up for an account.

After I made the decision to end my career as a teacher, I received a call from a good friend. After he wished me luck, he added how much he admires my willingness to break away from what I was doing to try something new. He admitted that he is not thrilled with his job and wishes he he could change.

I spent 16 years teaching teenagers, or at least, trying to. I was frequently struck by the lack of willingness on the part of students who were making poor decisions to try and change. The thinking seemed to be based on the idea, that their current way of operating might not be working, but at least it was familiar.

It takes guts for a non-runner to try and take up running. At the beginning it's awkward, uncomfortable and frustrating. It's much easier to give up, or better yet, to not even try. Still, I know that it is not only my life that has been transformed by having fought through the uncomfortable initial effort.

We spend so much time talking about how life is too short and trying to live longer and yet, paradoxically, at the same time, staying in situations that just don't work. Often, we are alive, but not fully, trudging through life half asleep.

Of course, I had a little push getting to where I am. I can't deny that my new job comes with a steep learning curve. Still, I feel alive, productive and challenged. If I am successful, and I think I will be, I will also get to change lives. I suspect that there will be days when I will miss teaching. What I know that I will not miss is the feeling of being stuck, of being in a rut, in a situation that no longer felt ideal.

To my friend, my students and all of you I would say, take the leap. I suspect you'll be glad you did.

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Being My Sammy-est

The news came, as such much of my news does these days, on my Facebook wall. “You will be missed Sammy- RIP”. Never having met him, I would probably not have thought about the post, had another friend not soon-after mentioned Sammy in his status. Then a third friend posted and mentioned Sammy's ever-present smile. Intrigued, I decided I had to know more about this man who had touched so many lives.

This is some of what I heard:

“He was one of the most selfless men I knew.”

“When I was raising money for a trip for kids, while many hesitated to share their connections, he was first to make the calls for me, hooking me up with donors and freebies for these kids.”

“He was one of those behind the scenes guys. “

I could go on, but I think you can see the theme that emerged. I found myself regretting that I had never known Sammy, and that, now, due to his untimely passing, I would never get that chance. More than that, I realized how much all of us can use a guy like Sammy in our lives.

As I shared the information that I would be changing careers and starting a charity running program for Just One Life, there were many well wishers. Of those, some made offers to help. I was touched by the outpouring of kindness that I received from friends, family and acquaintances alike. Still, I was, at times, unsure who I could approach and for what. A precious few sensed this hesitancy and made very specific offers to help. Personally, I suspect that I would not have been the Sammy, offering not just an encouraging smile, but also giving of my myself personally in any way possible.

Then it hit me. Although I will never get to actually know Sammy, I can learn from his all too short life, and try, in some small way to be like Sammy. To try and be the kind of friend to others, that I am looking for in my own life. To give of myself, without worrying about what's in it for me. To do for others in a quiet, but real way.

May his memory be a blessing.

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Donning My Hardhat

On my drive home from work, I pass by the construction site for The Freedom Tower, the massive skyscraper that is being built on the site of The World Trade Center. I have watched it grow from a small non-descript building into a massive 1776 foot tall tower, standing high above New York’s skyline. I have always had a fascination with construction sites and this one has gotten me thinking as well.

I have no doubt that the finished tower will be a site to behold. No doubt, there will be a ceremony as people gather to celebrate the finished product. I wonder how many of the dignitaries who gather for the occasion, will recognize all of the work put in by the architects, construction workers and others, to get the building standing.

In the past, I have attended many race weekends with every detail carefully choreographed. I must admit that I never gave much thought to all the hard work that went into making it happen. I simply took for granted that I would get there and that everything would just happen.

As I build Team Just One Life into what I hope will be an amazing experience, I am learning all that it takes to make it happen. Now that I am past the dream stage into the building stage, I have many things that I need to do so that each of our runners will get the experience they deserve. I look forward to the end of our first race weekend, when I will be able to pause a bit to reflect on all that we have accomplished. For now, I’ll be donning my hardhat as I build Team Just One Life one flight at a time.

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