Discover a New City: Portland

Following Dan across the Pacific Northwest...

Sexiness, on the rocks

Reuniting with college friends is easy when they all live within a 1 state radius. It's somewhat uninspired however, when that state is Kansas. Enter Dan, the Nebraska-raised Simon Bolivar of the Pacific Northwest who we were fortunate enough to meet while attending KU.

We visited him in Minnesota in spite of freezing temperatures and 4pm sunsets. Four years ago we made the trek to Seattle, eating fish and drinking beer in the city, then chasing sasquatch into the mountain wilderness.

This year, with friends moving to previously undiscovered cities Portland and Victoria, BC, a multi-country trip to the hipster capital of the world (or at least the US) and a Canadian flowery-beach town seemed like a no-brainer.

Agendas were set, flights booked, passports updated, Chad planned his ass off, PTO requested, bags packed and next thing you know, we were in Portland clanging celebratory beers together with Dan. Conversation was natural and flowing. We updated each other on work and personal lives, then got to gabbing about nonsense like we used to, spouses and significant others falling in as if they were right there with us at KU.

We got goofy, as you'll see in the pictures below. Most require at minimum a modicum of explanation; all come with the disclaimer that when reuniting with friends and adding fresh air, nature, wild blackberries, booze and great food into the mixture, shenanigans ensue. Direct any and all questions to Chad.

In no particular order...

Dr. Chad and The Women
Instinctually I wanted to use the B-word to describe the girls, but I know that my parents will see this. Prepping for an evening out, Chad and his fear-inspiring combination of slicked-back hair and flip-flops, gave a look that would have enabled Christopher from The Sopranos to become a made man much earlier in the series. If you're wondering why everyone seemed angry, I invite you to check out this next photo. 

Prom Pics
I'm not entirely sure why, but since there were a total of four couples on the trip, I thought it'd be funny to take prom-style pictures at various locations. For the most part, everyone went with it. Some of the pictures actually turned out nice, though the dudes looked admittedly creepy, uncomfortable or annoying in some of them. That will become apparent shortly. 

Not Enough Thumbs Up
Hef took this one, and his art direction was not specific enough in terms of creating an environment that encouraged everyone to hitch hike it up. Dan's double was a valiant effort, but it's completely offset by Chad's "hook-em-horns". Or was he flashing the "shocker"? Either way, the ladies let us down by looking all cute and adorable and not trying to turn this picture into farce.

This Is How We Hike!
Tara appears to be taking the lower portion of her pants off while we enjoy a respite from our day hike to the waterfall.

Hef The Man on his Contractor Calendar Photoshoot
It's difficult to say what's more glorious - the waterfall or Hef, who looks like he's training for Seal Team Six or vying for the calendar cover. Valiant creeper effort to Chad's disembodied head for the photobomb. 

Failing At Not Being Creepy
In all fairness, this was a lose-lose situation for Chadster. I should preface this by divulging that the water was colder than a Frank Martin stare. Which is likely why Chad's hands were gravitating towards his marbles in protection from their imminent dunking. That this all happened with a young girl in the background, effortlessly standing on water, Jesus-like, mid-wedge-pick, isn't any of our faults. Sometimes creepy accidents just happen.  

Trying To Act Cool While Losing Circulation Us four dudes were the only ones daring enough to swim out towards the waterfall, braving rocks, tweens and failing limbs. It was so cold - and I'm not historically known for doing cold well - that treading became a chore as arm and leg joints didn't want to open. We had to document this inversely miserable and inspiring moment, however I slipped off of my balance rock at the moment the camera went off, causing a spray of frozen slushee water to escape my mouth. Hef's smile can't convince us that his brain was thinking "just take the damn picture". Dan and Chad appear cool, but they were likely numb by that point.

Chad Gaines
We have Dan to thank for referencing the Garth Brooks alter-ego, failed alt-rock hipster Chris Gaines. Seriously, do a web search - it's uncanny. This is why we keep visiting Dan.  

Passion Bite
This too. Dan's always full of surprises, like when for his prom pic, he attempted to take a bite out of Kristen's neck. Or maybe that's how Portlanders show affection. 

Passion Nap
This is how normal people show affection. Are you comfortable enough with your spouse that you can take a nap on their shoulder at a moment's notice? I am, though naturally Melody appears resistive to my advances. 

All Smiles
I suppose there had to be one group that took this exercise seriously. Luckily for the camera, Tara's shadow takes the edge off of some of Hef's whiteness. And though we didn't have one, it appears that Hef must have won the push-up competition. 

Zen, and the Art of Dan
We began taking donations from inspired wanders stopping by Dan's life-as-art exhibit. The natural energy created by the juxtaposition of Dan's prone half-nude body and the stack of zen rocks was enough to restart the circulation in my frigid bloodstream, proving that the greatest pieces of art pay for themselves.

Hunter Gatherers
A few things happened here. For one, we brought a flask full of whiskey on our hike. Obviously. Not to seriously dehydrate ourselves, but to reserve for a celebratory swig. It should be noted that straight whiskey is gross. But the wilderness had an answer for that in her plump, deep dark blackberries dangling dangerously in the thorn bushes. Hef because entirely infatuated with collecting the best ones, enlisting Dan's help to act as a human shield against the thorniest of areas. The end result was a sweet chaser though. 

Sneak Attach
With so many elements competing for our attention, it's telling that both a smartphone and Hef's butt garnered more attention than the gorgeous waterfall in the background. 

Love Wrap
The face Melody is making is the result of years of her distrust towards me when I'm trying to harmlessly show my affection for her in public. Did I tickle her after this picture, and did she almost knock me off the bridge with her overreaction? Her smile tells all. 

Passion Nap # 2
Taking the cue from a man who knows how to act cool around women, Dan too proves that napping and smelling hair are some of the only true ways to show affection towards other human beings. 

Killer Flight
Accustomed to my antics, Melody appears to throw up a peace sign in a futile attempt to prevent me from allowing her to try my beer flight the hard way. Props to Rogue Brewery for the most creative beer flight paddles I've seen. 

Deschutes Brewery
Stop number two on our impromptu brewery tour, Deschutes joined the long list of establishments that over-served us on the trip. Great way to end a long day that included hiking, swimming, freezing, sweating and a food truck dinner. 

These Are NOT Waffles!
Seriously, there's bacon, egg, tomatoes, green leafy stuff, other fruits, whipped cream and some sort of delicious syrup drizzled on top. But if they were waffles, they would have freaking sugar crystals in the batter. Sugar crystals in the batter! I needed a nap after just looking at the menu. 

Princesses of the Animal Kingdom
Walking the streets of a Portland art fair, semi-comatose from the not-waffles, we stumbled upon these oddly placed wooden cut outs. There wasn't an obvious theme, other than "weed thoughts". 

Sir Hefsalot
OOOHH...they're for kids! OK. That makes sense. That they don't need to make sense. It's unfortunate that it took Hef almost guillotining his head onto the sidewalk for us to realize this. 

Brew Bus
The girls heard that there would be beer girl talent scouts at the Beer Fest, so naturally they struck up a pose in front of the VW bus that no doubt doubles as lodging for its owner. They were one step away from giving away shots and beer-themed sunglasses at a local bar. Side note, I can't remember what Amy's getup is called, but it's glorious. 

Keeping Tabs
Dan and Kristen proving that us dog owners just might have the right idea when it comes to keeping loved ones close. Immediately after this picture was taken, they engaged each other in a Michael Jackson Bad style fight. Dan won, but it wasn't as convincing as I had expected. 

I'm Number One
So is Chad. And Riker. And Bill Murray, who is stoically photobombing us. 

Brew Crew
So this is us, still all smiles even after a hike, a night out at the breweries, not-waffles and a stroll through the art fair. Not too bad for a group that attended college when Bush Jr. was in office. There was an inevitable crash afterwards, but a few of us managed to rally and go to a Portland Timbers game. Portland lived up to the considerably high expectations that I placed on its shoulders, which isn't surprising since Dan had vetted it. And if it lives up to his standards, that's usually good enough for us. The waffles were decent. 

Hipster AssimilationEver the world traveler, Chad is adept at adapting to the local environment, which in this case meant eating lettuce-filled lettuce wraps in front of the lattice on the porch, and drinking a beer while lecturing us on how important it is to use vegetable oil to fuel our cars. Or something like that, I wasn't really paying attention.

More pics of Portland and an advance look at Canada here: Cool Pics Link

A Conversation with Meb Keflezighi, 2014 Boston Marathon Winner!

Boston Strong, Meb Strong, USA, USA, USA!!!

So honored to meet The Man, The Myth, The Medal...The Meb!

Meb and I holding court in the auditorium

People say that life is full of surprises, but it's not often that a random hallway conversation turns into a top five life moment. That's exactly what happened when I was asked, unofficially and somewhat as a favor, to host an auditorium Q & A session with professional marathoner Meb Keflezighi. 

I played coy at first, in part because I didn't want to seem too eager to agree to the request. In other part - the slightly more terrifying one - the thought of interviewing a world-class athlete in front of a packed auditorium of co-workers scared the bejeebers out of me. 

What if I froze up? What if got cotton mouth? What if I became a distraction because I couldn't stop clearing my throat? What if I fell off the stool and injured myself? What if I called him Meg? These ridiculous thoughts and more went through my head before, during and after I agreed to do it. 

And then Meb won the freaking Boston Marathon! 

One thing became certain as I surreptitiously watched the live feed of Meb's gutsy performance in Boston on April 21st - this was going to be a big deal. A thin line of perspiration formed on my brow, and I was unknowingly white-knuckling my desk as Meb wound down Boylston Street, peeking over his shoulder way too many times as the dogged field tried to overtake him. It was not an easy race to watch if you were rooting for him - 26.2 miles is a ton of distance to cover when playing rabbit to world-class marathoners.  

It was only when victory was imminent, when he placed his shades on his head and spread his arms out wide before crossing the finish line that I was able to celebrate and de-clench my jaw. As Meb - now forever cemented as a national hero - began his victory lap, the full weight and importance of his victory began to sink in. More for him, but also a tiny, terrifying bit for me.

Meb's heroic finish, forever frozen in time

He was the first American to win the Boston Marathon in 31 years, a fact as amazing as it is undeniably unbelievable. His historic victory came one year after the horrific terrorist bombings that rocked the finish line; as a result, there were more eyes on the event, greater media coverage and security scrutiny, emotions thick as an early morning Boston harbor fog. It was a time when America wanted - really, needed - an American to bring joy to this recovering city. A time to "Take Back Boston", as the rally cry went. 

Meb understood this more than anyone as he was there that fateful day, posted up for hours at the finish line, laid up by an injury, yet showing up to cheer as the collective of professionals and amateurs completed their arduous journey. Proof that not only is he a great runner, but an amazing and humble person, a true ambassador for the sport. Just another example of the DNA that makes Meb a genuinely inspiring athlete, as opposed to simply a great one.

Using the events of the previous year as motivation, Meb ran the race of his life. He referred to it as the gutsiest race of his professional career, and his greatest accomplishment in the sport he loves so much. If Boston is the holy grail for marathoners, and it is, Meb was drinking from the chalice with both hands, chin towards the sky. 

The Boston Marathon victory tops off an incredible career which includes, among other highlights: the 2004 Olympic silver medal in the Marathon, first place at the New York Marathon, first place US half-marathon Championships, Olympic Trials champ and owner of a host of US records and collegiate championships.

As a side note, you know you're a stud when you can describe the number of records you've held using the phrase "a host of..."

ALL of this was going through my head when I began to prepare for the Q & A session. I channeled my inner Charlie Rose and read any and everything I could about the prolific marathoner. I'm what could be described as a casual follower of the pro running circuit, so up to this point I knew Meb as the guy with an unpronounceable surname, the American who had won marathon silver in Athens, a consistent big-race challenger and, most interestingly to me of late, a dude who was succeeding in pro sports while wearing Sketchers. How could you not love the guy?

I scoured the Internet and learned about his family's incredible journey from war-torn Eritrea to Italy, and finally to San Diego, California. As a former Peace Corps volunteer living for two years without plumbing, I somewhat understood the impoverished environment of his youth, though the bombings he experienced as a child hit Managua two full decades before I took up residence in Nicaragua.  

What resonated, though, is how in countries with very little, a strong sense of family is not only important, but essential for survival. Authentic (spicy) food eaten by hand, music and especially dancing are what bring friends, family and neighbors together, instead of being separated by the invisible barriers put up by the Internet, texting and stuffy cubicle environments. When life is simplified, true priorities percolate up to the surface, and for Meb and the rest of the Keflezighi's, that means family, education, hard work and, fittingly, endurance. 

But I don't want to give away all of the good parts...this is his story. Buy Meb's book, Run to Overcome. Let him tell you about his father's own Pheidippides-esque odyssey (that's marathon humor), his family's arrival in the US, and his journey from a shy grade-schooler who ran one heck of a first mile to the man we know today: Marathon Meb.

Inspirational and entertaining with just the right amount of humor and training information

Meeting Meb

I slept terribly the night before I was to meet Meb, unable to shut down my brain as it played out and deconstructed every possible scenario for what could go wrong, right and terribly wrong during the Q & A session. Usually a trusted ally and source of humor, my inner monologue was being a real pain in the you-know-what as I analyzed an event that was yet to happen.

I finally managed to ignore myself - "get out of my head", as they say - long enough to reach a state of deep slumber, though this was mere moments before my morning alarm buzzed me back to reality. Game on!

Knowing that I would be jittery, I requested to meet Meb and his entourage earlier in the day, if for any reason hoping to get any "Meg's" out of the way before I did so in front of a crowd. First we gave him a hero's welcome, gathering in the lobby to cheer him on upon entering our friendly confines. Forty or so Garmin employees loudly applauded Meb as he slowly ambled into building, completely surprised by the affectionate display shown towards him, forcing him to (I assume) politely disconnect the phone conversation that our applause had interrupted.

Greeting the champ

It was quite the front lobby moment - certainly more memorable than the handfuls of times the receptionists have had to greet me as I request temporary badges on my forgetful days. We clapped, whistled, hooted and hollered while Meb flashed his magazine-cover grin, gave us a patented thumb's up and, coolest part of it all, held up the Boston Marathon first-place medal that had likely adorned his neck for four straight days and nights.

As the cheers subsided, Meb, who was hobbling a bit as his body was still far from fully recovered, began shaking hands and posing for pictures with anyone who requested it of him. He had an interaction with every single person who took the time to greet him in the lobby, creating 40+ uniquely personal and life-lasting memories in the span of a couple of minutes - further proof of his inspirational pedigree.

As the glowing crowd dissipated and Facebook became inundated with pics of Meb and his new besties, he was chauffeured, along with Merhawi  - his brother/manager - to a fully-stocked conference room that would act as his home base throughout the day. (To learn more about the brother/brother agent/athlete relationship, read this article from Competitor). 

He was all smiles and jokes as we entered the room. A passing (some might say creeping) employee caught him as he was sitting down, and told Meb how much of an inspiration (there's that word again) and hero he was to him. You could tell the guy was nervous, and Meb made a point to ask his name, shake his hand and sincerely thank him for the compliments. His day more than made, the guy all but floated out of the room. 

It was an odd sensation, sitting across from him. Here he was, a world-class athlete, Olympic medalist and record holder, 126 pounds of cheekbones, abs and smiles who had just freaking won the Boston Marathon. And he was talking to me! It was surreal. 

A couple of employees helped him setup some new vivofit's - Garmin's fitness tracking band - and made no-brainer jokes about how many steps he'd do in a day. I made a joke about how my high school track coach routinely got on me for looking over my shoulder too much, but how Meb's coach probably gave him a pass because he, you know, won the freaking Boston Marathon. That he afforded me a chuckle at this barb, even if he was humoring me, put me at ease. 

As he and Merhawi ate breakfast burritos, myself and Andy, who was pegged to introduce him to the audience later that day, asked if there was anything specific he'd like us to mention. "You wrote down Boston Marathon Winner, right?", he joked without missing a beat. With one quip, he not only cracked up the room, he put us both at ease, releasing us of any tension or anxiety we had once felt. 

My instinct was fortuitous, in that meeting him before the interview would prove to make it much (much) easier, though this was primarily due to Meb's easy-going nature and the fact that he's such an unassuming star. Powerful and impactful, with a vigorously competitive spirit, true grit and a never-ending desire to succeed - to win! - yet safe in his understanding of who he is and how to treat others. Inspirational. Again, that word. 

After our chat which I secretly didn't want to end (ever!), engineering came calling and Meb was pulled into what we joked would be an overly technical session with the fitness engineers about Garmin's running watches. Unlike most sponsored athletes, however, he was looking forward to this opportunity. A Garmin user years before we signed him, he's a true believer in the technology of GPS running watches; he even nerded out - I'm using the term affectionately in an attempt to portray his passion on the topic - to us, describing how he uses heart rate, step cadence and other features in training and competitions. Now there's a testimonial with legs. (Sorry for the running pun).

I left the meeting feeling great, unable to contain my excitement. Mike Tyson couldn't wipe the smile off of my face. I'm not sure why I returned to my desk because I was way too distracted to do any real work. I sent a couple of emails, but had resigned myself to stalling for a few hours until the Q & A. I found a few videos of Meb online, but had to stop watching them as I was becoming, embarrassingly, like a child, way too excited. 

When I couldn't stand it anymore, I got up and walked around for a bit until I found myself in the lower level of the building where Meb was doing on-air interviews for the local TV stations. Not coincidentally, this was the first time that I made the connection that there could be outside media at the event. Though not full-blown, a renewed panic ensued. Luckily, the majority of my sweating was psychological, allowing me to play it cool on the outside. 

Meb was released from his media duties and given a slight reprieve before he was to speak in the auditorium. A group of us chatted with him in the bowels of the building, passing the time and trying to soak up every minute with the champ. Someone gave him a putter, with which he sent a few golf balls flying towards the hole on the tiny practice green that I've never seen anyone use before, ever. 

Someone else brought a few boxes of his book - you may remember it as the book I once recommended that you purchase, Run to Overcome - for him to sign, as he would be selling them after the session. True to form, he wouldn't leave the putting green until he finally sunk one, and I must say, it took more than a few tries before he was able to raise the putter in celebration. The neat thing is, every time I pass that particular spot now, I smile as I recall the time I saw the Boston Marathon winner hole out. 

It took more than fore tries for Meb to sink it (terrible golf pun)

Getting training tips from Meb and Merhawi

The Author

Meb and my buddy Jay, who is tall, but not a giant

It was almost time...

It is here that I would like to state for the record that the single worst question to ask someone faced with nerve-wracking circumstances is, "Are you nervous?". "Of course not" I lied, unconvincingly, a lot, to everyone. There's a reason that the phrase "Good luck!" exists. Use it!  

We headed down the corridor towards the auditorium, where Jody, who manages our sponsored athletes - the one who I'll forever be grateful to for asking me to emcee the event - posted up with Meb at the door. Merhawi, Andy, myself and the rest of the crew snuck in the ground floor of the auditorium, where, to my immediate horror, we were greeted by a full house. 

Andy, wearing a ridiculous K-State shirt, grabbed the handheld microphone and began the proceedings. He ran through a number of Meb's accomplishments, generating raucous applause when he stated the time in which he finished the Boston Marathon, a mind boggling PR of 2:08:37. Upon hearing this thunderous ovation, Jody urged Meb into the room, where the intensity of the noise increased exponentially; the standing ovation lasted more than four minutes, reaching a crescendo akin to something felt in Allen Fieldhouse when the Jayhawks are on a roll. 

Meb stood there stoically and smiling, praising the crowd with humble bows and a few thumb's up. As Andy directed him to his stool, he joked that Meb jumped the gun (a layered joke, more running humor), and went on to complete the full list of his accolades. He finished, said my name, and handed the mike to me; as I grabbed it, two very real thoughts surfaced: 1) Holy crap, this is happening. Like, NOW!, and 2) I wonder if the cameras can pick up the visibly aggressive heart palpitations emanating from my chest cavity. 

"Are you all miked up, Meb", I awkwardly stated as I situated myself on the lone empty stool, making a mental note, a final reminder to myself to try not to fidget, blink too much, scrunch my nose, fall down or mistakenly refer to the newly anointed men's Boston Marathon champ as "Meg". 

It was on...

I may have looked calm and collected, but I was freaking out inside. On the other hand, I may not have looked calm and collected. 

I had an idea for how I wanted this to play out, but understood that flexibility was going to be key as I didn't know how the champ would respond to my questions. I had an arsenal of topics in my back pocket, heavily researched, and my only goal was to have some witty banter - to come off as knowledgeable, humorous and easy-going - before opening it up to the audience.

Knowing people would want to hear about Boston, I began with a question about how he was feeling leading up the race. A simple question in my mind, I ended up asking Meb how he felt, both emotionally, psychologically and physically as he prepared for Boston. You'll notice that I mentioned three terms, thus making my use of the word "both" completely and utterly inaccurate. Still...a decent start.

Meb took us back farther than the starting line, constructing a descriptive account of his fitness and additional challenges in the years preceding this Boston victory. He painted a detailed and informative picture of his training that lead up to Boston, and how he knew that he had to make a statement there to honor the bombing victims of the previous year. He summarily answered my three-pronged question, and without further prompting from me, checked off the next seven on my list as he recounted the race.

For the record, I was totally cool with it. His great answer/race recap gave me sufficient time to steel my nerves as I glanced out at an audience where I recognized more than a number of co-workers and friends.

It was extremely compelling to listen to him describe the last few miles of the race, as he maintained a tenuous lead, yet remained keenly aware that the field was advancing towards his targeted back. That he used the crowd as motivation to maintain his crazy-fast pace, and had to focus on not only his body, but his emotional state as he headed towards Boylston Street and the finish line.

He was alternately funny and serious, detailing his grueling adventure, inviting all of us to experience it as if we were there with him, waving an American flag in his direction as he sped past us, a victorious blur.

He was remarkably genuine and sincere in recounting how much this victory meant to him and his family, to the crowds cheering him on, to America and Boston. He was humble yet confident, and assured of the significance of his performance. It was a true joy listening to him tell his story, and I had the best seat in the house.

Proving in person he knows how to celebrate a victory

After his great race summary, I threw out a few questions to keep the conversation going. I wanted him to speak about the way in which he honored the bombing victims before the race, writing their names on his racing bib. I was also curious as to how "The Call" went, and Meb brought us into his conversation with President Obama, detailing how much it meant for him, an American by way of Eritrea and Italy, to speak with America's top boss. His sense of pride in recalling this event was tangible and contagious, and he had the audience completely captivated.

Not wanting to press my luck - no "Meg's" to speak of - I segued from that anecdote and let the audience have their turn. Hands shot up like fireworks. There were four floating mikes, and my goal was to shoot for equal coverage, both geographical and demographical (spellcheck just told me that this isn't a word, but it sounds so nice when paired with geographical).

A secondary goal was to make some sort of engineering crack, but looking out at the audience comprised primarily of engineers, I understood that it would have to be a delicate one...or extremely funny.

The audience questions were very good, and I unknowingly selected a diverse group of individuals. There were Garmin engineers and employees, of course; but I also nailed a few guests who came specifically to see Meb. One of which was wearing an orange Boston Marathon windbreaker from this year's race, an easily-recognizable badge of honor within the running community. It was apparent to everyone in the room that his day, month and year were made when Meb congratulated him for completing the same race that he won.

It also highlights the uniqueness of this event, that it's such a high profile race for professional runners, yet amateurs are there on the very same course, sharing the road, dealing with the same elements. Even among the non-professionals, however, qualifying times are dropping, making it increasingly difficult to secure a bib number, nevertheless finish the Boston Marathon. Which is why it was so special to see their exchange, the equivalent of Lebron James dishing out high-fives at a pick-up game at a local YMCA. 

When asked what data field he referenced most during training and on race-day, I sprang into action, commenting, "And thus begins the engineering portion" somewhat sarcastically. As I was saying it, some small part of my brain questioned whether this was a smart move, career-wise, you know. Curious if my smart mouth would get me into trouble, I was relieved as a small and somewhat nervous wave of laughter emanated from the crowd - turns out there were enough marketing, sales and support friends out there to generate a chuckle. And luckily the engineer (what else would he be?) remained unfazed, intently curious about Meb's forthcoming response, as if he had a fedora, disposable flash camera, a pen and pad. Meb made his day and probably created a new running watch by answering the question.

Boston Strong!

Meb was top of the podium (running analogy) for the audience, which consisted primarily of those with engineering degrees, many of whom were part of the team that developed the running watch technology that Meb has been using for years. I asked all members of the fitness and Garmin Connect teams to raise their hands in recognition, so that he could personally thank them (with a thumb's up), and to demonstrate just how many individuals were on the project.

All those who raised a hand that day were able stake a tiny claim as a contributing member of Team Meb, as they pumped him up when he pressed "start" on his Forerunner at the beginning of the race; they helped him keep up his super-human pace while in lead, surrounded but alone with his beeping virtual partner; and they gave him permission to stop churning after breaking the ribbon with his chest with one final, ceremonial "beep" that registered 26.2+ miles, a digitally-frozen moment in time and marathon history.

The event could have gone on for another three hours, or until Meb's legs began to cramp due to dehydration, or an excess of witty banter. With 300+ potential autograph seekers in the audience I was given the "wrap it up" signal after 45 outstanding and all-too-quick minutes.

I closed the session by summing up how proud we are to have Meb as part of the Garmin family, the only part of the proceedings that I had rehearsed prior to the event. After some words of thanks on his part (totally unnecessary, by the way) he received a huge ovation from the crowd before I instructed them to filter to the right and form an autograph line.

In all the commotion, I didn't want to miss my chance walk away with a customized souvenir from the man himself. So out of fairness to the crowd, and riding high on post-interview endorphins, I helped bring the autograph table to Meb, then helped myself to the front of the line. Even after meeting him ahead of time, after sharing his spotlight in front of my co-workers, I felt like a Justin Bieber fan chasing after a lock of hair.

Meb has this unexplainably comforting and familiar aura about him, yet he also exudes supreme confidence, coolness and humor. He's a man who is comfortable with the fact that if he does his job well, he'll be on TV's and newspapers across the U.S. and around the globe, not to mention every corner of the Internet. And he's good with that. What I'm saying is, he's an easy guy to have a dude crush on.

He stayed and signed posters, racing bibs, medals and even a few Forerunners for everyone who had the patience to stand in the seemingly-growing line. While he did that, Merhawi sold signed copies of his book until he was left standing next to a pile of empty boxes.

After the visit to Garmin, Meb, Merhawi and their entourage - namely, Meb and Merhawi - went on to bigger stages and brighter lights. I went home and talked my lovely wife's ear off like a teenager checking in after a great first date. It was a memorable day, a special moment, and I'm thankful that my name was the one thrown around in the "Meb Brainstorm" session that I wasn't a part of.

Congrats once again to Meb and the entire Keflezighi family. I look forward to seeing Meb toe the line once again; and even though Boston was, as he put it, the greatest, most grueling victory of his professional career, I have a feeling this isn't the last we've heard from Marathon Meb.

Check out the Kansas City Star's report on Meb's visit to Garmin HERE.

Meb and I on the home page of the KC Star

Meb and I hanging out on Facebook together, solidifying our friendship

If you're interested, check out these interesting stories about some pretty interesting individuals that I happen to know: 

Linda Brantner: CEO, Wichita State Alumni Achievement Award Honoree

Neil Stratman: Singer, Writer, Brother, Performer, "Mixtapes for an Ex-Girlfriend"

April Speaker Series: Neil Gets His Kurt Elling on!

A Talented Singer/Blogwriter Validates Subway Love...

If I find out that Neil was attempting to make a heart with this hand gesture, I'm going to feel somewhat embarrassed for the both of us. 

April was an exciting month to be a Brantner, know a Brantner, have a sister married to a Brantner, win the Boston Marathon or catch a Brantner miked up. In the span of two weeks during April 2014, four of us - including those closely related to us - stood in front of an adoring crowd and preached a personal gospel. My next four posts will celebrate this passion that makes us such a special family, and honor some amazing individuals in the process. One award, one performance, one interview and one celebration. Four stories...

Linda Brantner: CEO, Wichita State Alumni Achievement Award Honoree 

Neil Stratman: Singer, Writer, Performer, "Mixtapes for an Ex-Girlfriend"

Meb Keflezighi: Winner, Boston Marathon (interviewed by me)

Suzi Brantner: Fundraiser, Executive Director, SCARF 

Act 2

Davenport's Piano Bar and Cabaret - Where I watched Neil become a man!

I listen to three different Pandora stations on regular rotation, so naturally I consider myself somewhat of an expert on music. My taste in music is as impressive as I am humble about it. I listen to a diverse range including - but not exceeding - jazz, reggaeton and whatever Melody, my lovely wife, makes me listen to in the car. Which is why I was curious when said that she wanted to take a mid-week trip to Chicago to see her immensely talented brother perform his one-man show, Mixtapes for an Ex-Girlfriend.

Lacking confidence in my understanding of the term cabaret, I could only assume it was similar in pitch and tone (no idea what those words really mean) to the slower jams found on a reggaeton compilation CD. You know, the ones you skip. 

My second thought on hearing about his show was that it reeked of plagiarism, since Neil is way too young to know what a mix-tape is. Even though, in a random act of musical serendipity, his dad posted the image below just today. 

Neil has no idea that hapless men used to fill these with Aerosmith songs in futile attempts to woo women

I had so many questions and understood so little about what to expect from what I imagined to be a vaudevillian form of entertainment (again, not entirely sure what that word means), that I had to see this in person. Besides, I've wanted to see Neil perform ever since I first met him; the only time he sang before me in person was at my wedding, and I was resigned to sneaking looks because I was ordered to focus on the "love candles" that our mothers lit before the ceremony.

And while it would be amazing to see him perform in Rent or Indian Pippin, this show was going to be about him. I'm familiar with his writing, and have witnessed him zing me in person - he's one funny dude. The thought of Neil singing non-lame love songs and beatnicking about chicks up on stage, bathed in red light, surrounded by a gaggle of his besties, made this one performance we couldn't miss. 

Melody wanted to keep it a secret, adding to the James Bondery of our mission. We discussed the best way to orchestrate the reveal, wanting to thrill him with a good surprise, yet avoid rattling his focus.  

After what seemed like - and actually was - a full day of travel, we found ourselves in a Chicago cab nearing Davenport's. I planted in Melody the idea of sending Neil a "good luck!" text as if she were still in KC, then asked the cabbie to stop by a hardware store so we could buy a shovel to scrape Neil's jaw off the floor. On an almost daily basis, I wish I could somehow find a way to incorporate these mostly useless skills of shenaniganry into something positive at work or home. As is, it's mostly my lovely wife and pets who have to deal with them.

We arrived roughly 30 minutes before kickoff ("kickoff" works for shows, right?) and sauntered up to the bar, having noticed Neil at the other end, obscured from us. I felt so devious that my heart was beating out of my chest. Nervous and unsure of how to proceed, I tried to convince Melody to call Neil as a follow up to the text. Part of me assumed he'd simply screen her call so close to performance, but what I was really hoping for was the chance to have Melody talk to him, make a comment about a particular item of clothing he was wearing (say, his awesome vest), have him go "What the...", then pop out and be all like "SURPRISE BRO!". 

Cats in the Cradle is blasting. Doves flutter out from behind us. Neil falls backwards theatrically with the back of his hand on his forehead, knees crumpling into a pretzel, spilling his martini while letting out a lovely groan. We're served free drinks. 

In what was probably a good move for Neil's career, none of that happened. We simply ambled down the bar and caught his attention, though our trip was immediately validated by his "What the..." deer in the headlights look. Perilously teetering on being overcome with emotion, this is the only time that I've seen Neil struggle to find his words. 

We both exchanged long hugs with Neil and let him know how excited we were for the show. Still looking moderately shocked but now sporting a grin that needed cowboy boots, he composed himself and retired to a hidden room to complete his preparations. 

It's difficult to put into words just how amazing this made us feel (especially big sis), but I can honestly say it was one of the greatest and most vibrant (tingly almost) moments that I've ever experienced. I felt slightly selfish, seeing that we came here to support him, and in return were rewarded with a morphine shot to the bloodstream.

Giddy, we left the bar and headed for the cabaret room, a small, dimly-lit space that could just as aptly house an illegal poker game full of men wearing un-ironic fedoras as it would a black & white era crooning lounge performer - both roles I could envision Neil pulling off. 

We found a table in front, so close to the stage that Melody's oversized broken foot boot rested on the hardwood floor. If Neil was ever going to sing our faces off, now was his chance!   

It was surreal scanning the self-printed, hand-cut playlist, which detailed both the songs he would perform as well as the stories he would tell. I recognized a few of the songs, but what really intrigued me were the stories, with names like "Conversationalist 1", "Long-Term Struggle-Town 2" and my fave, "Subway Love". 

Pretty sure when Neil sang "You and I Both" he was staring into my soul, but that may have been a side effect of the booze. 

As the room filled up and the soon-to-be-overworked waitress began canvassing the area, we caught up with Neil's roommate/personal trainer Nick, a man who has literally slapped a piece of pizza out of Neil's hand in order to keep him lean and buff for a role. What have you done for your friend lately?

Drink orders in, we anxiously waited with the assorted masses. I would later find out that there were representatives from many of the past lives that Neil has lead. Various co-workers, classmates, neighbors and family (us) all came out for this landmark occasion to support him, and take advantage of such a great deal. It goes without saying that there will undoubtedly be a time in the not-too-distant future where seeing this talented troubadour will set you back much more than a cover charge and two drink minimum.

Classic cocktails for a classic crooner

A few waves of cheers arose when Neil appeared behind the glass door leading into the room. The lounge was dark, as was the hallway leading up to the door, so when his head popped up, it was reminiscent of the classic, silhouetted Queen album cover.

Finally, after unintentionally drawing out the drama, he karate kicked the door to shreds (slight exaggeration) and hopped up onto the stage to massive applause. He chatted with his band for a while, as they fine-tuned their instruments, putting their drums, guitar, tambourine and piano through the paces. This professional yet casual interplay captivated the audience's attention, as we knew the fun was mere moments away. The anticipation was palpable.

Neil strode up to the mike quickly and with resolution, as if it were the last unspoken-for girl at the dance. He greeted the crowd and setup the show, playing up his charm and adorability, whether intentional or not. As his mom would say, he acted very "Neil-like". He almost appeared nervous, speaking about how humbled and excited he was to have everyone come out for the show. For a micro-second, I too felt nervous, as for the very first time I put myself into his medium-sized shoes, staring down at a crowd - albeit an adoring one - hanging on his every word, expecting to be entertained.

I say a micro-second, because in quick succession Neil turned back towards his band, made a few hand gestures, did a sweet looking "A one, two, a one, two three..." number, then forcefully attacked the mike as if it had tried to steal the last unspoken-for girl at the dance from his respectful waist-clutching arms (see what I did there?).

He turned into another being entirely as he confidently began the show with Eric Hutchinson's OK, It's Alright With Me - a classic I'm told, even though it's never appeared on any of my three Pandora stations. For me, the transformation was incredible. It made me realize that though I've seen him sing before, I've never witnessed him perform. Huge difference. It was magical, entertaining, thrilling, exciting and a whole heck of a lot of fun.

Trip = Worth it!

The performance was made all the better, more vibrant and real, seeing that we were seated just two baseball bats away from this potent and lyrical Mac truck. From what I know about singers - and we've already established that it's a lot - I'd say that Neil is one of the more passionate ones out there. Not a phony bone in his body, he wears his emotions, and heart, on his sleeve. It was as if every girl in the room was an ex, every guy there playing the role of the sympathetic buddy helping him get through some shit. "I totally feel you, bro!"

His voice was clear and energetic, soothing when he needed to be soft, vigorous when less subtlety was required. He held complete command of the room, even playing nice with the right side of the audience, who, though supportive, had been over-served as some point in the evening and let everyone know about it.

I'm going to throw out some names from my Kurt Elling pandora station. Now I'm not going to state for the record that I believe that Neil is more talented than these accomplished fellas; but if they're looking for a quality opening act to take under their wing, or for someone to play them in a VH1 movie, then Neil is the obvious choice. Michael Buble; Jamie Cullum, Dean Maratin; Harry Connick Jr.; Bobby Darin; and if he decides to dabble in all things reggaeton, Daddy Yankee.

As exciting as the musical performance was, I was even more excited to hear Neil read - artistically perform, rather - the stories from his blog that divided the musical assortment into sections. True to this great storyteller's form, Neil did not disappoint.

He dramatically read stories of chasing love, losing love, falling in love and making lo... - let's keep this PG-13 for the 'rents. His passionate mannerisms and wild gesticulations punctuated wistful points on stories about how it feels to be in love but struggle to keep a relationship going. How love is not always a two-way street. That if you're going to meet your future wife on the subway, you have to act FAST!

It was heartfelt and insightful, with a heavy dose of the Stratman family humor and candor that makes them so much fun to be around. Had I heard this show as a confidence-lacking (in girls, that is) teen, I would have saved myself from years of hard luck in dating, and possibly the previous three girlfriends before Melody. (OK, the ex-girlfriend pool might not be that deep...)

In fact, Mixtapes for an Ex-Girlfriend can be considered, among other things, a valuable learning tool that should be part of the US high school curriculum. Not to celebrate Neil's difficult and complicated dating past, but rather to celebrate the pain and hardship that every single kid will inevitably face. To show them that it's possible to find humor in the misadventures of love. Eventually.

Melody and I derive so much pleasure openly laughing about our exes and the craziness they brought into our once unstable lives. The bizarre situations our past squeezes got us into (highway lobster claws) and that we somehow survived (Hulk destroy pillow!) gave us the character we needed to make the decisions that lead us to find each other. And for that, we're grateful. Neil's show is a celebration of these wonderful and mostly innocent times.

There's no cautionary part of this tale - no amount of professional-grade songsmanship will prevent men and women from falling in and out of love and doing stupid, emotional, irrational, self-destructive things. But as Neil rhythmically beat his chest while singing Cry Me A River he was letting us know that yes, love can be a burden at times, but that's on the bad days. On the good days...well, on the good days, there's nothing better.

I'm so glad that I was able to see this show at this point in Neil's life. Seeing how talented he is, and how much of a success Mixtapes for an Ex-Girlfriend was, there will undoubtedly be more one-man+band shows. They'll be different though - both his personal life and career will evolve, causing his perspective to change. Performing theater in Chicago and working odd jobs to supplement his income while navigating car, apartment, computer and co-worker issues, he is generating new material to pull from by the minute.

With the possible exception of Neil himself, no one knows the theme for his next show, however if you play your cards right - or entirely wrong - you may play a central role. Regardless, if you're looking to catch a bold performance - part Kurt Elling, part Mike Berbiglia - make sure to stay within grabbing distance of the coattails of the one and only Neil Stratman. Coming to a theater near you!

Neil, crazy dialed-in during his performance