Adkinson Completes ‘Fourth Final’ Half-Marathon, Ends Career

‘At least I beat 103 other old guys,’ aging athlete declares

NASHVILLE, Tenn. (April 28, 2012) – Runner/jogger/walker/plodder Tom Adkinson says he has wrapped up a semi-illustrious half-marathon career by completing his “fourth final” Country Music Half-Marathon.

His time on the hilly, hot course through downtown Nashville was 2:41:23.

“The way I see it, my time was better than 1,846 other guys, including 103 geezers in my 60-64 age group,” he said between gulps of restorative chocolate milk. He had turned down the race’s offer of a Michelob Ultra as “simply not worth it.”

Adkinson began his half-marathon exploits in 2007 to combat wintertime boredom, acknowledging that he now has “successfully conquered that feeling” as he draped a towel soaked in ice water over his head.

His race time in 2007 was 2:41:46. In between were times of 2:32:00 and 2:37:36.

“Dropping off the circuit means I can seek treatment for my budding addiction to GU Chomps (46 carb grams in a single package) and knowing that my first race was my slowest – although I gave that time a run for its money today, beating it by a whopping 23 seconds,” he said.

He said his next quest is to determine when a number begins to “whop.”

 

Adkinson, who also declared his first half-marathon to be his last, kept making comebacks. This time, he cited country singer Porter Wagoner’s song, “I’ve Enjoyed as Much of This as I Can Stand,” as proof of a definite departure.

Adkinson’s first three races were under the banner of the Beer and Advil Research Council, but the resulting data never concluded that either drug did that much good to sustain a runner through an 18-week preparation regimen.

This year, he raced with a new team, the “There’s No Fool Like an Old Fool” team.

“I founded the Old Fool team somewhat as a lark. Even though I raced alone today, there were plenty of prospects to buy the name from me among the almost 30,000 participants,” he noted.

 

Adkinson had complained of problems as the race day approached, citing a new disorder – post-iPod syndrome.

“I was hearing voices in my head although I knew my iPod was locked up in the liquor cabinet. I’d wake up in the night reciting Jimmy Buffett (“Why Don’t We Get Drunk”), Jim Croce (“Roller Derby Queen”) and Les Kerr (“Tourist in a Rental Car”), and that’s not a good thing. Even though most of the lyrics involved alcohol and women, that’s still not a good thing,” he explained.

Looking back on his half-marathon career, Adkinson said he would miss the inspirational messages from fans lining the course.

“I was particularly moved today by the woman with the handmade sign that read, ‘I Don’t Know You, But I’ll Still Cheer for You.’ That meant a lot,” he said.

Quite the International Evening

BERLIN -- We were almost exhausted from two days of exploring Berlin, but we felt quite the international travelers as we enjoyed pizza and Spanish wine in an Italian restaurant just across the street from the French Cathedral and other architectural treasures illuminated for the Festival of Lights while Ray Charles sang "Georgia on Mind" over the restaurant's sound system. All of the nations' influences blended nicely.

End of the Road for Beer and Advil Marathon Research

Adkinson packs it in after third experiment, eyes competitive tiddlywinks

NASHVILLE, Tenn. (April 24, 2010) -- The Beer and Advil Research Council is out of business.

That was the declaration of council leader Tom Adkinson after finishing his third Country Music Half-Marathon, the council’s only research event.

“There’s not enough beer in Belgium to continue the research,” he gasped. “That’s true for Advil, too. As stiffened up as I anticipate being in a couple of hours, I’m sure that’s why God invented prescription drugs.”

Adkinson, a public relations professional who had seen science as a second career, finished the race in 2 hours 37 minutes, missing his goal by seven minutes.

“My first research study in 2007 was timed at 2:42. I shaved a whopping 10 minutes off that in 2009. Although I’ve still not figured out when a number begins to whop, I’m pretty sure the extra five minutes this year did not whop,” he said.

Adkinson said he knew the 2:30 target was in jeopardy about Mile 7.

“A red-headed young lady with a brace on one knee passed me, and I noticed a ‘2:30’ sign pinned to the back of her jersey. I fell in behind her. However, she slowed for a water station, and I lost her. Perhaps she drowned,” he said.

Without the redhead’s inspiration, Adkinson said he fell off the 2:30 pace. His one-mile splits ranged from 10:28 to “a lot more than 10:28.”

Race officials began the event early as they monitored an approaching severe weather system. Humidity was the day’s only issue until about 30 minutes after Adkinson and his pokey companions finished. Lightning crackled and rain fell as Adkinson scarfed down a post-race bagel.

“I was really hoping the spirit of George Carlin’s ‘Al Sleet, the Hippy-Dippy Weatherman,’ would descend on us. It was Sleet who always predicted, ‘Calm today, except gusty around the tornados.’ I could have used a tornado tailwind,” Adkinson observed.

As Adkinson dissected the race with co-researcher son Bennett Adkinson, whose time was 1:39, Bennett asked whether Adkinson had gotten a boost at the Beer Aid Station near the Mile 11 marker.

“Beer Aid Station? I didn’t see any stinking beer station! Once again, the research is tainted!” he declared.

Despite the demise of the Beer and Advil Council, Adkinson said his athletic career is not over.

“Mind you, I have no intention of channeling Brett Favre. I know when to quit this 13.1-mile madness. However, there are other challenges. I’m turning 60 next January, and competitive tiddlywinks is very appealing. Perhaps that redhead with the knee brace is interested in doubles.”

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TUBACHRISTMAS: My Sign of the Season

Walgreen’s may put up garland and tinsel the day after Halloween, but that and all the other premature signs of Christmas are a flop. Christmas doesn’t reign in my heart until I hear a sanctuary filled with the sound of 130 tubas.

It’s TUBACHRISTMAS, a time when people with big brass instruments converge to toot out deliriously delightful renditions of “Walking in a Winter Wonderland” and solemn and touching versions of “Silent Night.” The assembled spectators sing along. It’s like “Mitch Miller Meets John Philip Sousa.”

TUBACHRISTMAS for me is in Nashville, adding another layer to the city’s well-earned nickname of Music City U.S.A.

The first TUBACHRISTMAS was in New York in 1974, and Nashville’s began in 1986. It echoed through several acoustically challenged venues before settling at First Baptist Church, where the sound is fine, and the pews are comfortable.

After the first New York gig, a movement began, and you now can hear TUBACHRISTMAS performances across the nation. You’ll find a list at, you guessed it, http://www.tubachristmas.com/ <http://www.tubachristmas.com/> .

A spot check of states for 2009 shows four in West Virginia, nine in Indiana, 10 in California and 12 in New York. There are even enough tuba players in North Dakota for three TUBACHRISTMAS events.

All of these performances are a tribute to a William Bell, born on Christmas Day 1902 and acknowledged as America’s premier tuba player and teacher of the 20th Century. He played for John Philip Sousa and Toscanini. The idea is to honor “all great artists/teachers whose legacy has given us high performance standards,” says the TUBACHRISTMAS Web site.

While anything but a church service, the Nashville TUBACHRISTMAS has an appropriate touch. The Baptists allow a collection after the performance to support a weekly meal for the homeless just down the street at Downtown Presbyterian Church, a venue where TUBACHRISTMAS once played.

If my own Christmas spirit wanes, I know I easily can tune it up again. There is another TUBACHRISTMAS this Saturday just up the road in Paducah, Ky. It may be my last chance to hear "Santa Wants a Tuba for Christmas" this season.

Insights from a Week in Guadalajara

• Mexican fashion models are the prettiest in the world. I’m no fan of “Project Runway” or “Make Me a Supermodel,” but I know pretty when I see it, as I did at a show of Takasami fashions at the Cabanas Cultural Institute. Most visitors remember this cultural attraction for a stunning mural by Jose Clemente Orozco, but not me.

• “Guadalajara” comes from Arabic (“Wad-al-hidjard,” meaning “river that flushes on rocks”). How’s that, you ask? The conquistador who laid European claim to this land 450 years ago named it for his province in Spain, Guadalajara, transplanting a Moorish influence to the New World.

• “Un momento” doesn’t really mean “one minute.”

• Speaking of time, Guadalajara is on Central Time, even though it’s west of Denver.

• Crossing a city street here is a blood sport or at least an exercise in agility, depth perception and mind reading. This is a metro area of four million people and almost as many cars. Everyone is in a rush to get somewhere, and woe be unto the unwary pedestrian.

• Translated signs are a delight. Example: At the Presidente InterContinental Hotel, swimming pool rules are in Spanish and English. The messages are expected (“No Running,” “No Diving,” “No Lifeguard on Duty”) until you get to the priceless last one. Its dictate is “Please Do Not Make Scandal.”

• A few words in Spanish—and a smile—go a long way in the quest for good international relations. “Cerveza” and “banos” don’t count, by the way. Stumbling through a breakfast menu, chatting with a taxi driver or simply exchanging greetings with a fellow museum-goer make the day happier.

• Guadalajara is high country—5,000 feet elevation—so adjusting might take a little while. An “altitude headache” sounds better than admitting you have a hangover headache, anyway.

• Speaking of hangovers, the town of Tequila is about an hour’s drive from Guadalajara. It’s the home of Jose Cuervo, which has been making tequila (since 1795) longer than Mexico has been independent (its fight for autonomy started in 1810).

• It was just outside Guadalajara that I learned rock climbing is not my favorite sport. However, a day’s expedition with Eco-Tours Guadalajara also includes rappelling and a zip-line. The location was a rugged, boulder-strewn place called El Diente, named for a gigantic tooth-shaped rock formation, not for climbers’ dislodged teeth.

• With practice, it really is possible to pronounce Tlaquepaque, a once-separate artisan community now part of metro Guadalajara.

• If you don’t like mariachi music, you’re in the wrong place. Mariachi started here, so enjoy it just the way you would enjoy country music in Nashville or Dixieland jazz in New Orleans.

• Guadalajara is Mexico’s Silicon Valley, but I decided its most important industrial asset is a huge and impressive Corona brewery. Corona, Pacifico and Estrella all come flowing out of this location.

• Expect to see Guadalajara on ESPN a lot in 2011. That’s when this lovely city will host the Pan American Games.

(Perhaps your best planning tool for visiting Guadalajara is the Moon Handbook by Bruce Whipperman, an expert on Mexico and a member of the Society of American Travel Writers.)

Guadalajara: Mexico Without the Beach

For many Americans, a Mexican vacation is strictly a coastal experience filled with sun, sand, tequila and cerveza.

Think Cancun or Cozumel on the Gulf of Mexico and Mazatlan or Puerto Vallarta on the Pacific coast. If you’re old enough, conjure up those memories of Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor in “Night of the Iguana.”

Visitors who never leave the coast are missing the real Mexico. It’s a huge country, and the inland city of Guadalajara is an easy location for a full Mexican immersion.

Colonial history and the story of Mexico’s struggle for independence combine with world-famous murals to give Guadalajara, now Mexico’s second largest city, its vibe. Like Denver, it’s a highland city at an elevation of 5,000 above sea level, so you might find yourself catching your breath for that reason as well as the stunning architecture and art you encounter.

Murals by Jose Clemente Orozco, Guillermo Chavez Vega, Gabriel Flores, David Alfaro Siqueiros and others are the targets of many art tours. Magnificent tales are told on grand scales inside city hall, libraries, the judicial palace and the Cabanas Cultural Institute, a labyrinth that once was an orphanage and now is a treasure of a museum.

With more than four million residents in the city and surrounding metro area, this place bustles . . . and sprawls. Two formerly outlying villages—Tonala and Tlaquepaque—are known for their artists and craftsmen who produce everything from decorative metal sculptures to huge and whimsical papier mache animals.

Just outside the city on Lake Chapala are significant second-home and retirement communities populated by U.S. and Canadian citizens drawn to the region’s year-round mild climate.

Inside the city is a high-volume Corona brewery churning out Corona, Pacifico and Estrella for thirsty locals and tourists alike, and only about an hour’s drive away—past expansive fields of agave—is Tequila. This little town is Nirvana for imbibers of the beverage that bears its name. Jose Cuervo lives here, and throughout the region you can find 200 tequila makers, each a bit different from the last.

Complementing the art, architecture, beer and tequila is a Guadalajara-area location high on the list of rock-climbing enthusiasts. It’s a region of cliffs and boulders not 10 miles from the center of town called El Diente (the Tooth) because of the shape of one particularly popular formation. Eco-Tours Guadalajara will take you there and provide you with a zip-line, rappelling, rock-climbing and mountain biking experience to remember.

Even if you never venture inland from the coast to Guadalajara, it’s a virtual certainty you’ll encounter Guadalajara’s universally known export while in Mexico. Guadalajara, you see, is where mariachi music originated. Salud!

(For a serious research tool for planning a Guadalajara trip, find the Moon Handbook to the city by Society of American Travel Writers member and Mexico expert Bruce Whipperman.)

This Sport's Not For Me

It was at El Diente that I decided rock climbing is not my sport of choice.

My decision came about 40 feet up an almost-vertical rock wall in the craggy highlands just outside Guadalajara, Mexico. 

The location certainly was pretty—towering cliffs, giant boulders, blue sky, the outline of Guadalajara’s skyscrapers on the horizon about 10 miles away.

I even had a good instructor, Paco, who really was more of a coach-cheerleader-parent than instructor.  He continually shouted words of encouragement (“You can do it! I know you can!”) and assured me that the rope belay would return me to terra firma safely after I reached the goal.

The site was El Diente, an area of towering cliffs and huge boulders popular with folks who really enjoy trying to imitate Spiderman. 

El Diente (the Tooth) is named not for climbers’ teeth scattered on the ground but for a rock that actually does look like a tooth. Others in the vicinity were named the Octopus, the Skull and the Dinosaur Garden. 

I was there with a splinter group from a convention that was looking for some exercise and cheap thrills.  Why play golf like sane people when you can have fun dangling on a rope?

Eco-Tours Guadalajara, a company of athletic and mostly bi-lingual twenty-somethings, organized the mini-expedition.  Owner Luis Medina had charted a flight on a zip-line, a rappel down a 100-foot-tall boulder and the rock wall ascent. All of that was before lunch.  A short hike rounded out the day because there just wasn’t enough time for the normal fourth activity—mountain biking.

Medina is a pioneer in eco-tourism in Jalisco, the sprawling Mexican state that includes the beach resort of Puerto Vallarta, the metropolis of Guadalajara and even Tequila, the town where Jose Cuervo started making the Mexican national drink in 1795.

In fact, one of Eco-Tours Guadalajara’s most appealing tours has Tequila as its destination.  However, that outing includes tours of agave fields and then rappelling down a waterfall and taking a river swim before you get to the distillery tour.  One thing’s certain—you’ll be ready for a sample when you do get to Tequila.

Medina said the very idea of enjoying nature for nature’s sake has been slow to take root, but he feels a sense of accomplishment whenever he gains a convert, especially a Mexican convert.  He taught school for a decade before venturing into eco-tourism, but it’s clear he still has the heart of a teacher.

“The difference now,” he said, “is that my classroom has no walls.”

(For a serious research tool for planning a Guadalajara trip, find the Moon Handbook to the city by Society of American Travel Writers member and Mexico expert Bruce Whipperman.)