Running with Johnny

I did it again. On Thursday morning, I completed my second Turkey Trot in Miami. For years especially when I lived in Boston, I remember my cousins and friends talking about the Turkey Trot, an annual run/walk that takes place Thanksgiving morning so you can build up an appetite for the big dinner.  Getting up at 6 a.m. to run a few miles at 7 a.m. with throngs of people in Boston's brrr weather never appealed to me.  Hiking weekend and holiday afternoons in the Blue Hills was more my speed.

Four years ago,  I rediscovered a love of running. It was something I began doing my junior and senior year of high school but then stopped as I got older.  That all changed in April 2014 when I had  to pick up my sister's car at Mercy Hospital from my father's condo in Brickell. I decided, why not run it? It's only 2 miles or so. I remember feeling so energized and full of life (and extremely sweaty) after I ran it. Something clicked and reignited in me. From then on, I continued running every other day.  First, I'd run to Pitbull and Jennifer Lopez remixes on Pandora radio.  But after attending an Oprah Winfrey and Deepak Chopra meditation session at the AmericanAirlines Arena a few months later, I discovered their 21-day meditations. For some reason, I began running to the meditations. I still do. It makes 21 minutes or 42 minutes (if I do two back to back) fly by. My mind is centered, focused on the mantra and thought of the day even though my cardiovascular system is pumping fast and hard on all cylinders. I've been so relaxed in this meditative zone that I have gotten lost. (I have fallen a few times as a result.)  There is a freedom to running that makes you want to keep going and going. All my stresses seem to melt away during those 20 to 30 minutes. And whatever issue was bothering me before the run seems so distant, smaller, and clearer after my body begins to cool down.

Last year, mostly out of curiosity,  I decided to take on the Turkey Trot's 5K.  I loved everything about it. The building anticipation as the crowds gathered before the race.  Everyone jamming to the boom boom boom music and blaring sirens from the deejay at the starting line. And then finally taking off, bolting across the paths and trails of Tropical Park with a stampede of people of all ages.

I ran to one of the Oprah-Chopra meditations that first time but their cool, calm voices didn't seem to gel with the frenetic energy from the pack of people all around me and the sounds of their feet pounding against the dirt and pavement. Still, when I reached the final leg of the run on the track, the FINISH banner beckoned ahead. Really nice strangers cheered all the runners from the sidelines. I smiled and pumped my legs harder and crossed the finish line. Everyone seemed to walk around in the feel-good after glow of the race. It was a group high. Then it was time to cool off and eat a banana.

The race gave me such a good feeling of accomplishment that I decided to do it again this year. But instead of running to an Oprah-Chopra meditation, I played some up beat music (ABBA's Dancing Queen, Super Trouper, a Cuban dance song called Quimbombo and Prince's You Got The Look.)  Since I knew the route this time around, I ran it faster, weaving in between the other runners. I stayed on the outer edges of the crowds so I could have a clear path.  I felt like I was flying.  Whoosh! And once again, when I reached the track, I knew the end was near. All this good energy coursed through my body and fueling me to the finish line. Maybe it was the change in music or that I am now a better runner, but I surprisingly shaved off 2:20 minutes from my time last year. I plan to do the Turkey Trot each year from now on and perhaps some other runs. I'm learning that it can be fun to run with a group of strangers who all have the same goal, crossing the finish line.

Below are the photos from this year's run. I'm the one on the right :)

The Car That Could

Everyone remembers and shares beloved stories about their first car. I paid tribute to my old blue 1982 Honda Accord  and what it meant to me in the short time (three months) that I owned it. And everyone has a favorite car, one that they wax nostalgic.

But what about your best car, the one that rarely let you down and hung in there with you in good and bad times.  For me, that was my college car, the 1990 Toyota Tercel EZ. I think it was called the EZ model because it was easy to buy: It barely came with anything except an AM/FM radio, A/C, stick shift, vinyl seats, one side passenger mirror and sunvisor. It was the brown paper bag or the most basic of Tercels and Toyotas for that matter. A silver hatchback with sharp angles, almost like a triangle on four wheels.

When I was 18 and starting college, I needed a newer and more reliable car than what I had, which was a first generation, cinnamon brown 1980 Toyota Tercel which was on its last wheel. This one had been a good workhorse for my sister and me at Miami Beach High but it was approaching 100,000 miles and I didn't think it was going to put up with commutes for college and my internship at The Miami Herald.

So my family and I headed to Expressway Toyota in Miami and looked at used cars that were slightly new. And there it was, the adorable little silver Tercel sitting amid a bunch of bigger Corollas and Camrys.  It was two years old and had a few thousand miles so it was almost new.  When I sat in side and test drove it, I knew this was my car. (And so did my mom who wanted it for herself.)

This third generation Tercel was great on gas, filling up with a handful of dollars. The A/C was ice cold. The car puttered along with its 1.5 liter carburetor engine. Although it didn't have a lot of horse power, it had Johnny power, thanks to my stick-shifting skills.

I drove the car everywhere, to Miami Dade College, and then between the two campuses of Florida International University at opposite sides of the county (about 80 to 90 miles a day). The car was perfect for reporting stories at The Miami Herald in Miami Beach and then the Hialeah and Miami Lakes office in west Miami-Dade. I could squeeze the Toyota into any spot. Despite its small size, it could easily store two bikes in the hatchback and about five people overall.

The car was the club mobile for my friends (Cindy, Karla) and me during our night outings in South Beach and Fort Lauderdale. The Toyota was there for a lot of first dates.  The Tercel also held up when I drove it up the East Coast to Boston for my first summer internship at The Boston Globe.  I felt pride driving through Harvard Square, the Globe parking lot and to the South Shore in this little car with the Florida license plate. And the car was a pro for trips to Key West even under relentless pounding rain.

The car never broke down. My cousin Pancho performed the oil changes and tune ups in front of our house. The only issue the car had were the brakes. I had to replace them almost every other year but I blame that on my rough driving. I treated the car like a wanna-be roadster.

When I graduated from FIU, I wanted to treat myself to a car that could actually reach 60 mph in less than 2 minutes. Growing up in Miami in the 1980s, I remember seeing the sleek Nissan (Datsun) 240.  I wanted one and there was a recent model out from Nissan.

"Johnny, think this through. Your Toyota can go another 100,000 miles. It's paid off. It's a good car,'' my dad kept advising me. But I insisted. I wanted to start my adult life in a new set of wheels. And my Tercel had about 115,000 miles and things were beginning to wear and tear and needed replacing.

I kept hearing my dad's voice in my head at the Nissan dealership. (He was also right next to me so that may have had something to with it.)  And so, I turned in the Tercel. I felt pangs of guilt for abandoning this little car that had been so good to me for almost five years. But a black Nissan 240 beckoned and called my name. Shortly after I got the Nissan, I would drive by the dealership, hoping I could see the Tercel on the used lot but it was gone. It probably went up to the big junkyard in the sky.

Once in a while, I see a red version of that Tercel driven by an elderly man in Little Havana. Before my dad died in May, we often talked about cars and my old Toyota often came up. And again, he'd say, "You should have kept that car."  I think he was right. It probably still would have been up to driving me to Key West, Boston or to help me report my news stories in Miami and Fort Lauderdale.

A Poem From the Heart

Writers write in all forms. Short stories. Books. Essays. Blog entries. Poems.  News articles. Although I mostly write daily stories for the Sun Sentinel about whatever is trending or what people are talking about on social media each morning, I really enjoy creative writing whether that's writing novels or poetry. 

My interest in poetry began in elementary school for school assignments but I found myself writing my own at home in a Trapper Keeper notebook.  I enjoyed writing poems that rhymed, experimented in the short form haiku. The challenge and fun for me was trying to compact what you wanted to say in a lyrical way (hey, that rhymed.)  That interest and curiosity continued in middle school, high school and college.  I saved all my poems in my journals. And every now and then, I pen a poem out of inspiration or for a special occasion. (again, another rhyme).

One of those special occasions was for my lovely goddaughter Jessica and her husband Billy. Four years ago, they asked if I could write something to read at their wedding on Cape Cod.  I was truly touched and honored. I knew they had read my Boston Globe articles over the years and maybe one of my books.  But a poem for a wedding? Where would I start? This was new to me and I'm no Richard Blanco. I thought, this is a really BIG responsibility and I had to get it just right (or write.) And what if they don't like it? Again, a huge creative assignment for a one time occasion. I couldn't mess this up. If I did, I would be permanently exiled from Massachusetts and perhaps New England...FOREVER!

So I did what I usually do when I start working on a story or a book, I did some research by interviewing them.  We set up a time after work and we chatted on speaker phone - they in Weymouth, MA and me in my little apartment in Coral Gables. I asked them how they met, what sparked their interested in one another, their first date, second date, their upbringings, the big proposal.  Some of it I knew from memory but I wanted to hear it in their words so I could incorporate that into the copy. They also didn't want me to share the poem with them ahead of time. They wanted to hear it for the first time in front of their guests.  More pressure!

After a few weeks of writing and rewriting in my notepad, I presented this to Jessica's mom Mari who is my godmother and first cousin (more like a fabulous and loving older sister to me.)  I emailed her the poem and she called me right back and said in her sweet Boston-Cuban accent, "It's perfect, Johnny. Don't change a thing. They are going to love it."

And with the huge vote of confidence, I rehearsed reading the poem out loud a couple of times at home and then in front of the mirror at the Hampton Inn Cape Cod the night before the wedding and the day of. (the selfie down below was taken in between my takes in front of the mirror before the wedding.)

When the big day came that May 30, this is what I read at the podium before the guests on a sunny breezy May afternoon by the water of Harwich, Massachusetts.  I was nervous, excited and honored all at the same time. It was a day I will never forget.  And I think I got some future requests as a wedding poet for hire. The poem starts on the jump page below. (A heads up as you read it, Mac and Cam refer to two English bulldogs and the Pats are the New England Patriots.)