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In the Grizzly Manor Café, a man with a broken right hand sat alone eating eggs. He had tired eyes and graying hair and a nose that looked deflated. The town of Big Bear Lake is small—fewer than seven thousand people—and athletes stand out. It didn't take long for a woman to ask, "Are you with Rampage?"
The man had been eating awkwardly with his left hand. He said yes, he was in town with Quinton Jackson, better known as Rampage, the current light-heavyweight titleholder of the Ultimate Fighting Championship.
"I knew I saw you on TV! Are you training him?"
"Yeah, he's up here now."
The woman said that the challenger, Forrest Griffin, didn't stand a chance in their upcoming fight.
"We all like Forrest, but he's not ready for Rampage," the trainer agreed. "This is the most relaxed camp we've had, because nobody thinks he's going to beat Rampage."
"I saw Rampage in Kmart," the woman said. She was heavyset and her tank top showed off her tattoos. Other diners picked up on the conversation, and somebody mentioned the boxer Tito Ortiz, who owned a house in town.
"He's made more money coaching than he did fighting. That's when you step out of it."
"Nobody beats the clock."
Big Bear Lake sits at an altitude of seven thousand feet, in the San Bernardino Mountains of Southern California. In the winter, it's a ski town; in the summer people come to escape the crowds of Los Angeles and San Diego. For athletes, late spring is a good time to open a training camp, and during the first week in June I'd driven up from the coast to see Ryan Hall. At the age of twenty-five, Hall has already run the fastest marathon ever by an American-born athlete, and he's expected to contend for a medal in this summer's Olympics. Hall grew up in Big Bear Lake, and just the weekend before he had returned to begin preparing for the Games. Given the heat and pollution of Beijing, this year's marathon could be one of the toughest races in Olympic history.
In the café, I listened to the conversation for a while and then I introduced myself to the trainer. His name was Chris Reilly, and he specialized in Thai boxing; he'd broken his hand while sparring. "Oh, I've seen the signs around town," he said, when I mentioned Ryan Hall. Across the street hung a thirty-one-foot-tall banner with a photograph of Hall winning last November's Olympic Trials Marathon, in New York. "We're here for the same reason," the trainer continued. "Mainly it's the altitude. You're getting half the oxygen. And it's also getting away from the distractions in L.A."
When we finished talking, Reilly gave me a left-handed shake. "Tell Ryan I said good luck in Beijing," he said.
It seemed appropriate to send best wishes to Rampage, so I did. Later, I saw one of the cooks outside the café, on a cigarette break.
"Everybody here knows Ryan Hall," the cook said. He took a puff and grinned. "Run, Ryan, run!"
Ryan Hall stands five feet eleven inches tall, and he weighs a hundred and forty pounds, and in most parts of the country he wouldn't be recognized as an athlete. He has slender shoulders, slight arms, and narrow hips. Sleepy eyes—this is the look of a man who runs so much that he takes a nap most days. His hair is sun-bleached blond and shaggy; his mother still serves as his barber. When he walks somewhere, he takes his time, and he has the California habit of speaking slowly and letting his words hang in the air. Some distance runners have a nervous, sparrowlike quality—this seems particularly common among milers. But Ryan Hall's intensity is beneath the surface, like a lizard lying in the sun. He can move when he has to, but until that time comes he can wait.
As a boy, he admired the boxers around town. Oscar de la Hoya kept a house in Big Bear Lake, and Sugar Shane Mosley trained there as well. Once, when Hall was working part time at the local movie theatre, he sold some licorice to Sugar Shane. Hall told me that the marathon reminds him of boxing, at least in the preparation. A marathoner becomes accustomed to isolation, and during a training cycle there are no tune-up events, no preliminary races. Afterward it takes weeks to recover. Patience is key, and so is faith. "I love the boxer mentality," Hall said. "You go Rocky style, you train for months, and then you've got two hours where it's all on the line. I feel like I have that same mentality." He went on, "Growing up in the mountains, and being in the middle of five kids, and living off a teacher's salary—we weren't poor, but it was the simple things that we did. We'd go out and cut wood or do something like that."
The Hall family is deeply religious, and they had originally come to Big Bear Lake as an act of faith. Ryan was born in Seattle, where his father, Mickey, taught in a Christian private school. Partly to get some exercise, and partly to save money, Mickey often ran home from his job. One day, in the middle of a run, he had a sudden urge to stop and pray.
"I prayed, and I felt like the Lord wanted me to get back into a public-school system," Mickey recalled recently. "I went home and told my wife, and told her to think about it, to pray on it. And after a couple of weeks she said, 'I don't want to move, but I think you're right—I think we're supposed to.' "
Mickey quit his job and moved the family to Los Angeles. For ten months he worked in construction, and finally he was offered a position teaching special education at Big Bear High School. The Hall family moved again, and Mickey found an empty lot and built a house himself. He had always been skilled with his hands, and he was athletic. At Pepperdine University, he'd played varsity baseball, and had been drafted by the Baltimore Orioles, although he didn't sign. In Big Bear Lake, he started training for triathlons as a hobby. In addition to teaching special ed, he coached baseball and volleyball, and all the Hall kids were good athletes. But Ryan, who was the third child, had a different idea about sports.
"One year in middle school, I got this vision that I wanted to run," Ryan told me. "I think it came from God. I was on my way to a basketball game—it was just this crazy idea that comes into your head, and the desire to act on it. The next weekend, my dad and I ran around the lake, fifteen miles. After that, I decided to start training."
The high school didn't have a track or a running program. But Mickey volunteered to coach, and he studied training guides about the sport. In the beginning he had only one athlete, Ryan. As a tenth grader, Hall ran the sixteen hundred metres (a distance that's close to the mile) in four minutes and twenty-two seconds. Hall had a natural stride, and he also had the obsession that characterizes top runners. He posted photographs of world-class milers in his bedroom, and he listened to the Olympic anthem repeatedly. On Halloween, when he was fifteen years old, he carved out a jack-o'-lantern with the five rings and "2008," because that was the year he planned to run in the Games. Before eleventh grade he got a notion about the numbers 4:05. He inscribed "4:05" into wet cement outside the house, and he wrote "4:05" all over his school notebooks. When it snowed, he scratched "4:05" onto the window of the family car. The following spring, in 2000, he ran the sixteen hundred metres in exactly four minutes and five seconds.
By that year it seemed likely that some American schoolboy was going to break the four-minute mile. Two other juniors were also close: in Virginia, Alan Webb ran 4:03, and a Michigan boy named Dathan Ritzenhein clocked 4:05 in the sixteen hundred metres. The last time a high-school student had broken the barrier was in 1967, and many prep records from that decade still stood. This was a mystery of the running boom: the movement had produced few élite athletes, despite the fact that initially it had been inspired by Frank Shorter's victory in the marathon at the Munich Olympics of 1972. Apart from Shorter, no American man had won a medal in distance events since 1968. In 2000, the nation's marathoners were so weak that they couldn't even send a full team to Sydney. At both the men's and women's Olympic trials, the top American marathoners didn't make the Olympic time standard, which limited each team to one athlete.
For serious fans of the sport, the American performance in Sydney was less interesting than what was going on in the nation's high schools. As Hall, Webb, and Ritzenhein each won their respective state cross-country championships, people began to talk of a resurgence in competitive running led by "the Big Three." In December, 2000, they finally met in the five thousand metres at the Foot Locker Cross Country Championship in Orlando. Ritzenhein, who excelled at cross-country, finished first, followed by Webb and then Hall. The next month, Webb ran a mile in under four minutes, and later that spring he broke the high-school record set by Jim Ryun, which had stood for thirty-seven years. In April, Webb and Hall faced off for a mile race in Arcadia, California. Webb won easily, and Hall was so upset that after the finish he took off his singlet and spikes, threw them onto the track, and ran hard three miles through town, barefoot and shirtless. By the time he returned, somebody had stolen his uniform.
Hall had always been intensely competitive, and in the spring of 2001 he began to suffer nosebleeds before races, probably from stress. He accepted a running scholarship to Stanford, but for much of his time there he struggled. After years of solitary training, it was hard to adjust to being on a team. "We'd go for a run, and Ryan would just hit it hard," Ian Dobson, a former Stanford teammate, told me. "He would just hammer everybody. It seemed like he wanted to beat everybody, and it created a lot of animosity." Dobson said that Hall's Christianity was initially another source of tension. "Stanford's a whole different world. Most of us weren't religious. I'm not religious at all, and I felt threatened. What's this guy going to do? Is he going to try to convert me? Is he judging me?" Dobson said. "It was partly my problem, of course," he added. "He's one of the few Christians I know who aren't judgmental."
Over time, Dobson and Hall became close friends, and in 2003 they led Stanford to a national championship in cross-country. Hall also met his future wife, Sara Bei, at the university, where she was one of the top women runners. But being part of a college team never felt completely natural to Hall. He told me that competitiveness was the quality he disliked most in himself. "I just have a hard time seeing Christ being competitive," he said. "I think it's my immaturity that prevents me from working out with other people. I just don't like how it feels in my heart, to be honest. I hate how I feel inside."
After college, he turned professional, and he initially didn't perform well in the five thousand metres at high-level track races in Europe. But in 2007, in Houston, he entered his first half-marathon and broke the American record by more than a minute. Three months later, at the Flora London Marathon, he surprised the best runners in the world by taking the lead late in the race. He faded to seventh, but finished in 2:08:24, the fastest début marathon ever by an American runner. Since then, he has run two more excellent marathons, proving that he's already among the best in the world.
His coach, Terrence Mahon, told me that with any great athlete it's a matter of matching physical and mental gifts, and sometimes the environment plays a role. The marathon allows Hall to race less often, and the solitary training brings him back to the mountains, where he channels his competitiveness. "He grew up in a small town where he didn't have any competition," Mahon explained. "He lived on top of a mountain. They didn't have a track program until his dad started it for him. That's the habit—he never understood what it was to share the pace. For his survival, he had to be internally motivated."
Before 1972, when Frank Shorter won the marathon at Munich, long-distance running was a fringe sport in the United States, and élite athletes were often loners who had been surprised to discover their natural talent. Billy Mills, an orphan who grew up on a Lakota Indian reservation in South Dakota, originally tried to become a boxer but realized that he was better at running. In 1964, at the Tokyo Olympics, Mills won the gold medal in the ten thousand metres. One of his peers, a skinny misfit from Spokane, Washington, named Gerry Lindgren, trained on the verge of insanity—he ran between twenty-five and thirty-five miles every day—and, in 1964, while still in high school, he beat the top Soviet athletes. (Lindgren later abandoned his wife and children, quit racing at the élite level, and absconded to Hawaii.) Other runners, like Jim Ryun and Frank Shorter, were fortunate to encounter gifted coaches early in their careers. But they had few resources at their disposal, especially for the marathon. Shoes were so bad that Shorter had a pair of track spikes customized with flat soles for the race in Munich. (He got blisters within the first six miles.) Along with some other runners, he arranged to have U.S.A. printed on his own uniform, because the standard team issue was made of heavy material that was terrible for an endurance athlete. During the race he drank flat Coca-Cola at every aid station. Olympic marathoners prepare their own bottles, but sports drinks were still in the early stages of development, so Shorter shook up the Coke until it was de-fizzed.
Back then, it was rare for an American city to host a marathon. In 1971, my family moved to Columbia, Missouri, one of the few towns in the Midwest that sponsored a 26.2-mile race. A local boxing trainer had founded the Heart of America Marathon in 1960, as a way of forcing his fighters to get in shape. None of that trainer's athletes actually finished the inaugural race, but somehow the event survived, and a small community of diehards trained for it every year. My father became fascinated by the challenge, and as a professor of sociology he liked the weirdness. His training partners included Vietnam vets and religious fanatics and oddball academics; the only thing they had in common was a desire to run as fast as possible. They competed in local races, which tended to be poorly organized. Before the start, they'd give the stopwatch to whoever was expected to be the best runner. If he got passed, he handed over the watch to the new leader. They left a clipboard at the finish line, and it was the winner's responsibility to pick it up and record the times for everybody who followed.
"Nobody knew what the heck we were doing," my father told me recently. "But after Shorter, that changed everything. It became a whole lot easier, with equipment and everything." Shorter came out with a line of specialty clothing, building on his experience of Olympic improvisation. Many of the early runners were tinkerers. Ron Hill, a British marathoner who finished sixth at Munich, was a textile chemist who experimented with mesh shirts and reflective materials. Bill Bowerman, the track coach at the University of Oregon, messed around with a waffle iron and created a new type of shoe sole. Soon, the company he co-founded, Nike, was selling models specifically designed for the marathon. Races became better organized, and publications like Runner's World taught people about élite training methods. In distance running, an athlete with some natural talent can improve quickly if he trains right, and by 1976 my father had come close to qualifying for the Olympic trials in the marathon.
Health had little to do with this initial wave of runners. "I didn't know anybody who did it for health," my father said. "You became intensely aware of your body, but it wasn't like, I want to live a long life. It was more like, What can I get out of this machine? It was very competitive."
For a marathoner, though, competitiveness tends to be directed inward. In training, the long buildup to a race may be similar to what a boxer goes through, but the focus is completely different. A boxer prepares for a specific opponent; a marathoner prepares to push his body to the limits of endurance. At the élite level, marathoners are well aware of their competition, and tactics are important; but everything begins and ends with individual fitness. The most crucial opponents are found within: the accumulation of lactic acid in muscles, the depletion of glycogen. A marathoner worries about hitting "the wall"—the moment at which glycogen stores are so low that an athlete can become disoriented.
During the seventies, runners became obsessed with learning about such physical limitations. In Dallas, a doctor named Kenneth H. Cooper conducted a test in which he put athletes on treadmills, connected tubes to their mouths, and ran them to the point of exhaustion. By collecting all the expelled air, Cooper calculated the volume of oxygen consumed, in relation to body weight. This figure, known as the VO2 max, quantified cardiovascular fitness. Cooper tested élite athletes like Frank Shorter, and the results became well known in the running community. Even today, in the airport of Eugene, Oregon, a town famous for its track tradition, a small display notes that the Oregon native Steve Prefontaine had the highest VO2 max ever recorded in Cooper's lab.
Periodically my father participated in such experiments. In those days, serious runners imitated whatever the élites were doing, even in the lab. One of my father's running buddies had a Ph.D. in cardiac physiology, and at the University of Missouri he and his colleagues conducted tests on top local runners. My father was an ideal subject: he ran a hundred miles a week, and he had an inquisitive streak. He also had an appetite for pain. They tested his VO2 max, and they conducted lactic-acid experiments, which involved running him hard and then drawing large amounts of blood. They did a muscle-fibre test in which they extracted a chunk of my father's thigh. The moment they snipped the tissue, the muscle contracted so violently that the doctor had to stand on my father's leg in order to yank out the sample. "And then they said, 'You're ninety per cent slow-twitch muscle fibres,' " my father recalled. "Well, brilliant—so what?"
One year, physiologists designed an experiment to test whether it was best for a marathoner to wear a mesh shirt, a solid shirt, or no shirt. In order to discover this elusive truth, they put my father and other runners on a treadmill for an hour at a fast pace, in a laboratory with a controlled temperature of ninety degrees Fahrenheit and ninety per cent humidity. They weighed each athlete before and after, to calculate lost sweat. They also tracked body temperature with a rectal thermometer. They didn't anticipate, however, that a human being running at a pace of ten and a half miles an hour naturally expels a rectal thermometer. Taping it in place didn't work. Finally, my father had to reach behind him and hold the thermometer while running at full speed. He did this a total of seven times, always for an hour, sometimes with a mesh shirt, sometimes with a solid shirt, sometimes with no shirt. Recently, I asked him why he had agreed to participate in such a study.
"I figured what the hell, I want to know what's better," he said. "I wanted to get my time down." The results indicated that a mesh shirt was best, followed by a solid shirt, then no shirt. ("It's like a radiator," my father explained.) Nowadays, at the age of sixty-six, my father runs ten miles a day, six times a week. He still has a scar on his thigh from the muscle-fibre test. He says that if a doctor told him that running would shorten his life he'd keep doing it.
One sunny morning in Big Bear Lake, Ryan Hall set off on a fast ten-miler. Typically, he did such a workout once a week, to increase speed; he complemented this with a weekly run of twenty or more miles that was designed to prepare him for the latter stages of a marathon. Today he started on the north shore of the lake, where steep mountains drop to rocky banks, and he followed Highway 38 back toward town. There was a slight tailwind; he flashed through the first mile in well under five minutes. Out on the lake, fifty yards from shore, a fisherman in a boat stood up and shouted, "Go, Ryan!"
Two of us accompanied Hall on bikes: his brother Steve took the lead, and I followed. At thirty, Steve is the oldest of the Hall siblings, and for the past few years he has worked construction in Big Bear Lake. Recently he quit his job in order to spend these pre-Olympic months as his younger brother's assistant. One of Steve's main tasks was to bike alongside Ryan on hard days, handing him energy drinks every fifteen minutes. That was preparation for the heat of Beijing—Hall was training his body to process more fluids than usual.
When he hit the second mile, Steve called out the time: "Four-fifty-nine!" Hall was still relaxed: I could see that from the muscles of his back. He was shirtless, and he wore sunglasses and headphones; he listened to Christian praise music on his iPod Shuffle. Later in the run, when he fought the hills on the far side of the lake, he switched to techno. His head was so steady that he could have been on wheels like the rest of us. No bobbing, no weaving—no wasted motion at all. He kept his hands low, and his arms swung on a straight line from front to back. That was, in part, a Moroccan touch: when Ryan was in high school, he and his father watched tapes of Hicham El Guerrouj, the greatest miler of his generation, and they changed Ryan's arm carriage accordingly. But nobody had ever had to tinker with Ryan Hall's legs. "All the things you try to teach in drills, Ryan already had them," Vin Lananna, his first coach at Stanford, told me. "When you say, 'This is what somebody should look like while running,' that's Ryan Hall." Mahon, his current coach, had a simpler assessment: "He looks like a white Kenyan."
For the past two years, the Flora London Marathon has been the most competitive race in the world, and spectators have been shocked to see Ryan Hall with the lead pack of African runners. His looks cause him to stand out, but when it comes to the qualities that actually matter he has a great deal in common with his competition. Top African marathoners tend to come from high-altitude parts of the continent, especially the Atlas Mountains of Morocco and the countries that run along the Rift Valley, including Kenya, Ethiopia, and Eritrea. But scientific studies have shown that there's no significant difference in the VO2 max rates of élite Kenyan and European runners. Instead, the Africans' advantage seems to come from running efficiency, body-mass index, and leg shape. Some of this may be genetic, but mostly it's a matter of training. From the time they are children, the Kenyans run more miles, and they run them faster. Hall had also been putting in high miles since he was a teen-ager, and over time he had honed his natural runner's build—high waist, big muscular thighs, long whippet-thin calves. It's simple physics: the leg is a lever, and you want power at the top and lightness at the bottom, and then you can fly.
After three miles around the lake, Hall raced through the town of Fawnskin. It was a tiny place, shaded by Jeffrey pines, and beside the road the North Shore Trading Company had posted two banners that said, "Run Ryan Run!" A sandwich shop had another banner, and so did the local real-estate agent. At twelve miles an hour, the signs around Fawnskin Market seemed to blur:
The banners were everywhere in Big Bear Lake. An organization called the Lighthouse Project had printed them up, as a way of supporting the home-town Olympian. They had also started a local fitness campaign in which people kept track of any distance they ran or walked or biked. They logged their workouts on a Web site, with the goal of contributing a million community miles to Ryan Hall's Olympic training. Even Camp Rampage had pitched in: so far, the Ultimate Fighter's team had donated eight hundred and fifty miles from its morning runs. The schoolchildren took it seriously—Ryan had videotaped a message in which he explained that their training would give him a unique advantage in Beijing. One day, I went for an easy run with Ryan and his brother, and we were stopped on the road by a first grader named Sheyne Elrod. The boy wore a red "Fire Safety" ribbon pinned to his T-shirt, and he had a "Run Ryan Run" baseball cap. He asked Hall to sign it.
"How many miles have you run for me, Sheyne?" Hall asked.
"Fifteen," the boy said.
"That's great!"
Usually, Hall trained in Mammoth Lakes, another California mountain town, where his coach and other top American runners are based, composing a group called Team Running USA. But Hall had returned to his home town for this period because of the local support, and he also wanted to be closer to Chula Vista, the San Diego suburb where his wife, Sara, was training. Sara hoped to make the Olympic team in the fifteen hundred metres, and for such a short distance most athletes prepare at sea level. There's a tradeoff to high-altitude work: in thin air, blood becomes more efficient at carrying oxygen, but it's harder to run fast for long periods of time, which means that muscle efficiency suffers. "You need the rhythm of the track," Sara told me, when I visited her in Chula Vista. "And the altitude is harder on me. I have asthma, and I don't sleep well up there."
Even today, nobody is certain about the effectiveness of altitude training. There has never been a conclusive long-term study, because it's impossible to persuade élite athletes to alternate between years at sea level and years at altitude, all for the sake of science. The only published research has involved periods of a few months, which is too short a time to produce consistent results. But marathoners are particularly inclined to train at elevation, because they don't need track speed. In thin air, the liver and the kidneys respond by making more erythropoietin, a hormone that stimulates the production of red blood cells. "It's basically the same as taking EPO," Joe Vigil, an Olympic coach for the U.S. team, told me. He was referring to the injection of synthetic erythropoietin, which is the blood-doping method of choice among many endurance athletes. When somebody gets an injection of EPO, he essentially gains the benefits of high altitude without actually having to live in the mountains. Such injections are banned, and they're also risky: blood can become so thick that it stops the heart. Another sea-level option is to sleep in a sealed tent that circulates thin air. Even this is shadowy territory—Italy has banned altitude tents as an unfair advantage, and athletes can't use them in the Olympic Village. The World Anti-Doping Agency considered banning them but finally relented. "What are they going to do, ban altitude?" Hall told me.
He was a firm believer in mountain training, but it had drawbacks. In many ways, Ryan and Sara Hall are the ideal running couple—they even have similar all-American good looks, as Sara is also fair and long-limbed. She's religious, too; she first noticed Ryan at a high-school cross-country meet because he was signing his autographs with a Bible verse, the same way she did. But if both are preparing for important races, they can't breathe the same air—they have to be separated by seven thousand vertical feet. They try to see each other once a week, but they rarely spend more than two days together. "Living at altitude, you sacrifice a lot," Meb Keflezighi, another top American runner who trains with Team Running USA, told me. He met his wife, Yordanos Asgedom, in July of 2004, while he was preparing for the Athens Olympics. Keflezighi is an Eritrean émigré—he came to the United States at the age of twelve, eventually becoming a citizen. Asgedom shared this heritage, but she was living in the lowlands of Tampa, Florida.
"I invited her to come to Mammoth to visit," Keflezighi told me. "She said, 'Why don't you come to Tampa?' I said I couldn't do that—I needed to be at altitude. But when I asked her to come she said, 'No, the man has to come first.' She is a traditional woman."
In Athens, the men's marathon was held in the evening, and Keflezighi ran a nearly perfect race, winning the silver medal. Afterward, he didn't sleep, and at 4:50 A.M. he flew out of Greece, bound for Florida. "The flowers that I got from the medal ceremony were the flowers that I brought for our first date," he said. Four years later, the couple have two children, and they live happily in Mammoth Lakes, at seventy-eight hundred feet.
Keflezighi's silver was a breakthrough—the first time an American male marathoner had stood on the Olympic victory stand since Frank Shorter. Also in Athens, Deena Kastor, another Mammoth Lakes resident and member of Team Running USA, took the bronze in the women's race. Their performances suggested that, finally, after three decades, the nation was learning how to tap into its running boom.
Since 1972, there has been no shortage of American runners. In the old days, the sport attracted primarily oddballs and obsessives, but that changed steadily in the nineteen-seventies and eighties. Kenneth Cooper, the man behind the VO2 max tests of élite athletes, coined the term "aerobics," and he published books that emphasized the benefits of exercising for health. People became more likely to run for rational reasons, and they trained accordingly; the hard-core competitiveness of my father's generation slipped away. Mileage dropped for high-school and college runners, because of fear of injury and burnout. These days, recreational runners tend to be educated people with good jobs. The average participant in the ING New York City Marathon has an annual household income of a hundred and thirty thousand dollars. The people who read Runner's World have a median income virtually the same as that of the readers of Forbes. When I talked to Cliff Bosley, the director of the Bolder Boulder, one of the largest road races in America, he said, "Running has demographics that are comparable to golf." Charity has become a major part of marathons, as runners claim limited entry spots by raising money for worthy causes. Mary Wittenberg, the president of the New York Road Runners, the nonprofit that organizes the city's marathon, told me that participants tend to be type-A overachievers who are attractive to advertisers. "Why are ING and the Bank of America involved?" she said, referring to the title sponsors of the races in New York and Chicago. "You want a customer that's in it for the long run, somebody who is going to look to retirement. That's a goal-oriented, driven person. It's all about the quest."
It's not, however, about the time. Today, most marathoners simply want to finish, and races have become dramatically slower, at least after the top runners. In 1982, the hundredth finisher in New York ran 2:25:45. Last year, in a race with nearly three times as many participants, the hundredth runner crossed the line at 2:39:26. It was also in 1982 that an American last won the New York marathon. Since then, the men's races have been dominated by African runners, who have gravitated toward the longer distance. For élite athletes, it's smart to focus on the marathon, because races are wealthy enough to offer appearance fees and prize money in amounts that are extremely unusual at track events. In the United States, track has never drawn significant income from television, and neither has the marathon—but American marathons don't rely on TV money. Nor do they need to sell tickets to spectators. Instead, the participants raise the cash, because they can afford to pay high entry fees and their demographic appeals to advertisers. Marathoning may be the only sport in which sponsors target the losers, and the losers pay for the winners. That's how the running boom played out for the Kenyans and the Ethiopians: it created a lot of slow, rich American marathoners willing to pay big money to get beat.
For many years there was a sense that even the best American runners couldn't compete with the Africans. Recently, though, coaches have realized that athletes simply need to train harder. The "Big Three" high-school class of 2001—Ryan Hall, Alan Webb, and Dathan Ritzenhein—trained seriously at a young age, and all have become professionals capable of challenging the top runners in the world. In 2004, an Oregon boy named Galen Rupp finally broke the high-school record in the five thousand metres, set by Gerry Lindgren, in 1964. (Rupp made this year's Olympic team in the ten thousand metres.) Meanwhile, the big-city marathons have started using some of their wealth to support élite training groups. Each year, the ING New York City Marathon helps pay for the Team Running USA camp in Mammoth Lakes, which has already produced two Olympic medallists. In Oregon, Nike sponsors another top group. Shoe contracts have become a prime source of income for many track runners; athletes are valuable marketers for the hordes of affluent recreational runners.
When Ryan Hall won the Olympic Trials marathon in 2007, he dominated the strongest field in Trials history. Keflezighi, the defending silver medallist, finished eighth—during training he had struggled with injuries, but even in good health he would have had to run well to make the team. Dathan Ritzenhein took second, and he told me that top American talent is increasingly drawn to the marathon, partly because of the payouts. "If I was to say that the money doesn't mean anything to me, I'd be lying," he said. "But it's not about that at the end. You can't fake it at twenty-four miles."
The best runners still have that quality—they're driven by obsessions other than wealth. Ryan Hall has quickly become one of the most marketable distance runners in the world, drawing big appearance fees from races. Mary Wittenberg, of the Road Runners, told me that she expected to pay two hundred thousand dollars just to get him on the starting line of the New York marathon in 2009. But he was still in his home town, running the old routes, and his life style had hardly changed. He drove a three-year-old Honda, and his and Sara's modest house in Big Bear Lake had a "For Rent" sign in front, because they leased it out to vacationers whenever they trained elsewhere. In Mammoth Lakes, they lived in a mobile home. "We kind of see the money we have as God's money," Sara told me. They supported a Christian charity called Team World Vision, which gets entrants to the country's major marathons to raise money for development projects in Africa. Once, when I was at lunch with Ryan and Team World Vision organizers, somebody mentioned that marathoners tend to have high incomes. "Really?" Ryan said, his eyes wide. "I didn't know that!"
Few professional runners seemed to realize that their paychecks came from the guys at the back of the pack. Ian Dobson, an Olympian in the five thousand metres who lived mostly on the earnings of a shoe contract, told me that he was under the impression that it was a tax writeoff for somebody. "I don't understand the economics," he said. "I don't understand how it could be worth it for Adidas to pay me." In a way, the sport creates an unusual intimacy between the recreational and the élite: in a marathon, they all gather together on the same starting line. But in truth the top guys are still on the fringes, isolated, pounding out the miles as in the old days. And from the African perspective it couldn't be stranger. Michael Chitwood, the director of Team World Vision, told me that when he went overseas he had trouble explaining his funding. "I go to Africa and say, 'Well, I work with marathoners and we raise money for these projects,' " he said. "They're like, 'What do you mean? You guys don't have that many good runners in America!' I say, 'No, no, no, they're not good runners!' "
On the way to dinner at his parents' home in Big Bear Lake, Ryan Hall asked, "Are you ready to go to the Olympic Village?" His mother, he said, had "gone kinda crazy with the Olympics stuff." An American flag hung in front of the house, and the porch was draped with red-white-and-blue bunting. A banner from the "Run Ryan Run" campaign hung above the front door. Susie Hall had recently tracked down an Olympics flag with the five rings, and she planned to display that, too. The whole Hall clan was going to Beijing in August, along with their pastor and his wife, and Sara's family, for a total entourage of seventeen.
"I told Ryan that he couldn't run the marathon until he was twenty-seven," Susie Hall said at dinner. "Shows how much he listens to me."
I asked her why she had such reservations.
"I don't know if it's good for him," she said. "I worry about him running that far."
"There's absolutely no evidence that running a marathon is bad for a person," Mickey Hall said.
"At least he's not skateboarding," Susie said.
The Hall siblings had all grown up and left home, but they still had regular places at the dinner table. Ryan sat in his childhood seat, right in the middle. Nearby, the hands of the kitchen clock were frozen—years ago he had stopped them at 3:35, because he had been obsessed with running fifteen hundred metres in that time. He never came close, and gravity won that race: the hands had slipped to 4:36.
He no longer fixated on numbers and times; at Stanford he had been humbled often enough. And he knew that, on any given day, any number of things could go wrong for a distance runner. The most impressive performance of his career had been at the Olympic Trials, but shortly after the victory he was stunned to learn that Ryan Shay, a fellow competitor, had collapsed and died in the early miles. It's extremely rare for an élite marathoner to die during a race, but Shay had suffered from an enlarged and scarred heart. The day before the Trials, Shay and Hall had gone for a run together, and their wives are close friends and former Stanford teammates.
July would turn out to be a rough month for the Halls, as Sara finished ninth in the Olympic Trials fifteen hundred metres, failing to make the team. The morning after the race, I saw Ryan, who looked tired. "It's a tough thing—what do you say?" he remarked. "I just told her that I love her and I support her. I told her to walk away with her head high. She did everything she possibly could have done." In the men's fifteen hundred metres, Alan Webb also failed to make the team, despite having run some of the best times in the world a year earlier. Even the Ultimate Fighter's camp had a hard weekend—the day before Sara's race, Rampage lost a five-round unanimous decision to Forrest Griffin.
Hall told me that at least his training was going well. The fast runs had been stretched to twelve miles, and often he ran them at the sunniest time of day. Before and after workouts, he tested urine samples with a refractometer to monitor how he coped with dehydration in the buildup to Beijing. In August, the Chinese city's temperature is usually in the mid-eighties, with high humidity, and the men's race isn't scheduled to start until 7:30 A.M. All of China is in a single time zone, so the sun rises early in the east: seven-thirty in Beijing feels more like midmorning. Haile Gebrselassie, the Ethiopian who holds the world record in the marathon, had announced that he wouldn't run the marathon, citing concerns about pollution. Gebrselassie subsequently petitioned the Olympic Committee for changes to the route and the start time, but it declined.
In Beijing, the favorite will be Martin Lel, a Kenyan who has won the New York City Marathon twice and the London Marathon three times. But heat tends to equalize competitors in a long race, and Olympic marathons are notoriously unpredictable. It's the only distance event that's never been won by a Kenyan, and African marathoners often seem to underperform in the Games. It's unusual to hold such an important race during the summer; all the big-city marathons are scheduled for spring or fall. Most Ethiopian and Kenyan runners come from cool mountain regions, and coaches told me that in the past they've seemed less likely to adjust their training for summer conditions.
In 2004, Meb Keflezighi and Deena Kastor prepared for Athens, where the summer heat can also be brutal, by wearing additional clothing on practice runs at Mammoth Lakes. Their coaches mapped out a route there that mimicked the climbs and descents of the Greek course, so the athletes essentially ran the Athenian hills in the thin air of the Sierra Nevada. This year, Deena Kastor had made the team again, and she and Hall were following many of the same strategies. They had acquired ice vests that would lower the body's temperature immediately before the start of the race. The U.S. Olympic team had given each athlete two different filtering masks to wear at the Olympic Village if pollution was bad. ("One for training and one for kicking around," Ryan said.) The course in Beijing is completely flat, and many sections are exposed, so this time the coaches had mapped out a route in Bishop, California, a high-desert town at the edge of the Sierra Nevada. Bishop is flat and sunny: exactly like Beijing if all the people and cars and buildings were replaced by scrubland.
In Big Bear Lake, after we had dinner at his parents' home, Ryan played a DVD of the Beijing course. An official with the U.S. team had recently travelled to China to record it with a handheld camera. The video began with a shot of Tiananmen Square: throngs of tourists, the portrait of Mao Zedong. That was where the starting line would be. Then the cameraman headed south past the Qianmen intersection. For much of the route he travelled on foot; sometimes he caught a cab. Traffic was everywhere: buses and cars, mopeds and bicycles. Kids grinned at the camera; people stopped to stare. In Tiantan Park, a tout pulled out a box of fake Rolexes.
Ryan watched the video intently. "Meb cut his shirt in Athens," he said. "He cut it off at his stomach, because otherwise the sweat will pool there."
More than thirty years after Frank Shorter, marathoners were still tinkering with their uniforms, looking for that slight advantage, mesh or no mesh.
"That's what I ran in for the Ironman," Mickey Hall said.
"If I'm running with the midriff, it'll be the supreme sacrifice."
"You know, Ryan, I think you get in there and you're in the thick of it, and that's all that matters."
"Definitely," he said, in that slow California way, and then he grinned. "I just hate the look." ♦


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CDC Liaisons
All-Cause Mortality
I-Min Lee, MBBS, ScD
William L. Haskell, PhD
Steven N. Blair, PED
Harold W. (Bill) Kohl III, PhD
Cardiorespiratory Health
William E. Kraus, MD
William L. Haskell, PhD
Judith G. Regensteiner, PhD
Jason D. Allen, PhD
Brian D. Duscha, MS
Joseph E. Donnelly, EdD
George A. Kelley, DA
Bruce Jones, MD, MPH
JoAnn Manson, MD, DrPH, MPH
Janet E. Fulton, PhD
Metabolic Health
Judith G. Regensteiner, PhD
William L. Haskell, PhD
William E. Kraus, MD
Timothy Church, MD, MPH, PhD
Steven M. Haffner, MD
Richard F. Hamman, MD, DrPH
Amy G. Huebschman, MD
Irene Schauer, MD, PhD
Energy Balance
Edward T. Howley, PhD
Russell R. Pate, PhD
Antronette K. (Toni) Yancey, MD, MPH
Loretta DiPietro, PhD, MPH
Joseph E. Donnelly, EdD
John M. Jakicic, PhD
Harold W. (Bill) Kohl III, PhD
Shiriki Kumanyika, PhD, MPH
Musculoskeletal Health
Wendy M. Kohrt, PhD
Miriam E. Nelson, PhD
Roger Fielding, PhD
Jennifer Hootman, PhD
Nancy E. Lane, MD
David R. Brown, PhD
Jesus Soares, MSc, ScD
Functional Health
Wendy M. Kohrt, PhD
James H. Rimmer, PhD
David M. Buchner, MD, MPH
A. John Campbell, MD
Jack Guralnik, MD, PhD
David Buchner, MD, MPH
Jesus Soares, MSc, ScD
Anne McTiernan, MD, PhD
I-Min Lee MBBS, ScD
Kathryn H. Schmitz, PhD, MPH
Candace D. Rutt, PhD
Mental Health
Rod K. Dishman, PhD
James H. Rimmer, PhD
Antronette K. (Toni) Yancey, MD, MPH
Patrick J. O'Connor, PhD
Anita Stewart, PhD
Phillip Tomporowski, PhD
Jesus Soares, MSc, ScD
David R. Brown, PhD
Russell R. Pate, PhD
Edward T. Howley, PhD
Antronette K. (Toni) Yancey, MD, MPH
Stephen R. Daniels, MD
Christina D. Economos, PhD
Bernard (Bob) Gutin, PhD
Robert M. Malina, PhD
Janet E. Fulton, PhD
Jacqueline N. Epping, MEd
Adverse Events
Kenneth E. Powell, MD, MPH
William L. Haskell, PhD
Julie Gilchrist, MD
Bruce Jones, MD, MPH
Caroline A. Macera, PhD
Paul D. Thompson, MD
Susan A. Carlson, MPH
Janet E. Fulton, PhD
Understudied Populations
Shiriki Kumanyika, PhD, MPH
James M. Pivarnik, PhD
Dr. Haskell is Professor of Medicine (Active Emeritus), Stanford University School of Medicine. He received his PhD in exercise physiology from the University of Illinois. Professor Haskell has spent 40 years conducting research investigating the effects of habitual physical activity on health and performance, especially in the areas of chronic disease prevention, cardiac rehabilitation, and assessment of physical activity in free-living populations. He is an author on more than 350 scientific articles, chapters, and books. In addition to this research experience, he has participated in the development of guidelines for physical activity and health by the American College of Sports Medicine (ACSM), American Heart Association (AHA), American College of Cardiology, National Institutes of Health (NIH), and the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC). His professional recognitions include an Honorary Doctor of Medicine from Linkoping University, (Sweden); Honorary Member, Order of the Horse Collar Knights, University of Kuopio (Finland); the Honor Award for lifetime achievement from the American College of Sports Medicine; Science Honor Award for 2007, the President's Council on Physical Fitness and Sports; and the Lifetime Achievement Award, University of California at Santa Barbara Alumni Association. He continues to be actively involved in physical activity and health research and development and dissemination of educational materials for health professionals and the public.
Dr. Nelson is Director of the John Hancock Center for Physical Activity and Nutrition and associate professor of Nutrition at the Friedman School of Nutrition Science and Policy at Tufts University. She is also an adjunct faculty member of Tufts University's Tisch College of Citizenship and Public Service. Dr. Nelson received her PhD in nutrition from Tufts University.
For the past 20 years, Dr. Nelson has been Principal Investigator of studies on exercise and nutrition supported by grants from the Federal government and private foundations. Her research has focused on midlife and older adult health, with an emphasis on women. She has directed and collaborated on many studies examining the effects of strength training, endurance exercise, and balance training on reducing risk and/or minimizing symptoms of chronic disease and functional decline. Key areas of interest include bone health, arthritis, frailty, type 2 diabetes, heart disease, obesity, and sarcopenia. Recently, Dr. Nelson chaired an ACSM/AHA committee to develop recommendations for physical activity for older adults. The report was published in 2007.
Dr. Nelson has been recognized for her scientific contributions by a number of organizations. Following her doctoral research, Dr. Nelson received an American Association for the Advancement of Science Congressional research fellowship, allowing her to work for Senator Patrick Leahy from Vermont on issues related to health and human services. In 1994, she was named a Brookdale National Fellow, an award given to future leaders in the field of aging. Dr. Nelson is also a fellow of the ACSM. She is a frequent writer and public speaker to consumer audiences on physical activity and health issues.
Dr. Dishman is Professor of Kinesiology and Adjunct Professor of Psychology at the University of Georgia. He received his PhD at the University of Wisconsin-Madison and has focused his research on neurobiological aspects of the mental health outcomes associated with physical activity and on behavioral determinants of physical activity. His research has been funded by the NIH, CDC, the AHA, and the United States Olympic Committee (USOC). Dr. Dishman is a fellow of the ACSM, the American Psychological Association, and the American Academy of Kinesiology and Physical Education. He has served as a consultant on exercise to the NIH, CDC, the Sports Medicine Council for the USOC, and the Olympic Prize subcommittee of the Medical Commission of the International Olympic Committee (IOC). Dr. Dishman was one of 22 founding members of the IOC's Olympic Academy of Sport Sciences. He was a contributor to Physical Activity and Health: A Report of the Surgeon General and was a member of the writing committee for the ACSM Position Stand, The Recommended Quantity and Quality of Exercise for Developing and Maintaining Cardiorespiratory and Muscular Fitness and Flexibility in Healthy Adults.
Dr. Howley received his PhD degree from the University of Wisconsin-Madison. He completed a 1-year postdoctoral appointment at Pennsylvania State University and then joined the faculty of the University of Tennessee, Knoxville (UTK). Dr. Howley taught classes in exercise physiology and in fitness testing and prescription, and has co-authored textbooks in both areas. He recently retired from UTK after 37 years of service and holds the rank of Professor Emeritus.
Dr. Howley's research interests include metabolic and hormonal responses to exercise, caloric cost of various physical activities, and the interaction of exercise and diet on weight loss. He has published more than 60 research articles.
Most of Dr. Howley's volunteer efforts have been with the ACSM. He was actively involved in the development of ACSM certification programs, was an associate editor of the 6th edition of the ACSM Guidelines for Exercise Testing and Prescription, and served as ACSM President in 2002-2003. He currently serves as Editor-in-Chief of ACSM's Health & Fitness Journal and chairs the program planning committee for the annual ACSM Health & Fitness Summit meeting. He also served as a member of the Science Board of the President's Council on Physical Fitness and Sports (2005-2007). Dr. Howley worked at the local level as the co-chair of the East Tennessee 2 Step Healthy Weight Initiative, a 12‑month collaboration between the University of Tennessee, the Knox County Health Department, and the East Tennessee Regional Health Office. In 2007, Dr. Howley was recognized for his contributions with the ACSM Citation Award.
Dr. Kohrt is Professor of Medicine in the Division of Geriatric Medicine at the University of Colorado Denver. Dr. Kohrt has conducted clinical intervention studies aimed at understanding the health benefits of physical activity in older people for more than 20 years. Her research focuses on reducing risk for chronic diseases and conditions, such as osteoporosis, type 2 diabetes, abdominal obesity, and physical disability. She established the Investigations in Metabolism, Aging, Gender, and Exercise (IMAGE) research group at the University of Colorado Denver, which has the mission to be a national leader in aging research focused on the prevention of disease and the maintenance of functional independence in old age. Dr. Kohrt chaired the writing committee for the 2004 ACSM Position Stand on Physical Activity and Bone Health. She also is an invited member of the Isis Fund Network on Musculoskeletal Health established by the Society for Women's Health Research.
Dr. Kraus is Professor of Medicine in the Division of Cardiovascular Medicine; Professor, School of Nursing; and Assistant Professor of Cell Biology at Duke University. He obtained his AB in astronomy and astrophysics from Harvard College in 1977 and his MD from Duke University in 1983. One goal of his research is to understand the cellular signaling mechanisms underlying the normal adaptive responses of skeletal muscle to physiologic stimuli, such as occur in exercise conditioning, and to understand the abnormal maladaptive responses to pathophysiologic stimuli, such as occur in congestive heart failure, aging, and prolonged exposure to microgravity. Dr. Kraus also is Director for Clinical Research at the Duke Center for Living, a multidisciplinary treatment and research facility dedicated to the primary and secondary prevention of cardiovascular disease, and he is Medical Director of the Duke Cardiac Rehabilitation Program. Dr. Kraus is a Fellow of the AHA, the American College of Cardiology, and the ACSM. He is Chair of the AHA's Physical Activity Committee of the Nutrition, Physical Activity and Metabolism Council.
Dr. Lee is Associate Professor of Medicine at Harvard Medical School and Associate Professor of Epidemiology at the Harvard School of Public Health. She was born in Malaysia, schooled there, and received her medical degree from the National University of Singapore. She received a master's degree in public health and a doctoral degree in epidemiology, both from the Harvard School of Public Health.
Dr. Lee's research interests focus on the role of physical activity in preventing chronic diseases, in enhancing longevity, and in women's health. She has published more than 190 scientific publications. She has served on several expert committees addressing physical activity and health, including the committee writing the 1996 report Physical Activity and Health: A Report of the Surgeon General, the committee writing the 7th edition of the ACSM's guidelines for exercise testing and prescription in 2006, and the CDC/World Health Organization Collaborating Center Committee on developing and disseminating global physical activity recommendations in 2008.
Additionally, Dr. Lee is on the Editorial Boards of Medicine & Science in Sports & Exercise and Harvard Women's Health Watch. Among the honors she has received for her work on physical activity and health are the Young Epidemiologist Award in 1999 by the Royal Society of Medicine, United Kingdom; and the William G. Anderson Award in 2007 from the American Alliance for Health, Physical Education, Recreation and Dance. She is an elected member of the American Epidemiological Society and a fellow of the ACSM.
Dr. McTiernan is a faculty member in the Division of Public Health Sciences and Director of the Prevention Center at the Fred Hutchinson Cancer Research Center in Seattle, Washington, and a Research Professor in the University of Washington Schools of Medicine and Public Health and Community Medicine. Dr. McTiernan's research focuses on identifying ways to prevent new or recurrent breast cancer and colorectal cancer, especially with physical activity, obesity prevention, and chemoprevention. She is Principal Investigator of several clinical trial and cohort studies investigating the associations among exercise, diet, body weight, hormones, chemoprevention agents, and risk of cancer incidence and prognosis. She is Principal Investigator of the Seattle Transdisciplinary Research on Energetics and Cancer (TREC) program, which includes more than 25 scientists conducting research on mechanisms linking obesity and inactivity with cancer, and on obesity prevention. Dr. McTiernan is an elected Fellow of the ACSM, the North American Association for the Study of Obesity, and the American College of Epidemiology. Dr. McTiernan has published widely in major medical journals and is lead author of the book, Breast Fitness: An Optimal Exercise and Health Plan for Reducing Your Risk of Breast Cancer and editor of Cancer Prevention and Management Through Exercise and Weight Control. She has served on several national and international health advisory boards and working groups, including those of the International Agency for Research on Cancer's Handbook of Cancer Prevention Vol. 6: Weight Control and Physical Activity and the American Cancer Society's Guidelines for Nutrition and Physical Activity and Prevention of Cancer.
Dr. Pate received his BS from Springfield College and his master's and doctorate degrees from the University of Oregon. In 1974, he joined the faculty of the University of South Carolina, where he now serves as Associate Vice President for Health Sciences and Professor in the Department of Exercise Science, Arnold School of Public Health.
Dr. Pate is an exercise physiologist whose research focuses on physical activity and physical fitness in children and the health implications of physical activity. He has published more than 170 scholarly papers and has authored or edited 5 books. His research has been supported by the NIH, the CDC, the AHA, and several private foundations and corporations. He heads a research team that currently is conducting research on physical activity and physical activity interventions in preschool children and in middle school girls. He coordinated the development of the 1995 landmark recommendation on Physical Activity and Public Health by the CDC and ACSM. He served on the 2005 U.S. Dietary Guidelines Advisory Committee, and on the Institute of Medicine (IOM) panel that developed guidelines for the prevention of childhood obesity.
Dr. Pate has served in several leadership positions with the ACSM, and in 1993-1994 served as that organization's president. In 1996, he received the Citation Award from ACSM, and in 1999 he received the Alliance Scholar Award from the American Alliance for Health, Physical Education, Recreation and Dance.
Dr. Powell is a public health and epidemiologic consultant in Atlanta, Georgia. He holds degrees from Harvard College (AB), Northwestern University Medical School (MD), and Harvard School of Public Health (MPH), and received postgraduate clinical training in internal medicine at the University of Colorado and the University of Utah. He was an epidemiologist with the CDC for 25 years and with the Georgia Department of Human Resources for nearly 8 years. The relationship between physical activity and health has been an important theme during his career. He initiated the CDC's epidemiologic work in the area by leading a consolidation of the scientific literature and setting the public health research agenda. He also participated in the development of the first nationwide surveillance of physical activity and the development of the physical activity-related objectives for the US Department of Health and Human Services' (HHS) Healthy People 2000. He served on the Committee on Physical Activity, Health, Transportation, and Land Use and the Committee on Progress in Preventing Childhood Obesity for the IOM, and is a member of the Physical Activity Work Group for the Task Force for the Guide to Community Preventive Services. He is a Fellow of the American College of Physicians, American College of Epidemiology, and ACSM.
Dr. Regensteiner is a Professor in the Divisions of Internal Medicine and Cardiology in the School of Medicine at the University of Colorado Denver. She is Director of the Center for Women's Health Research at that university and has strong research interests in this area, especially with relevance to cardiovascular disease and diabetes. Her expertise is in cardiovascular physiology, functional assessment (exercise testing and questionnaire design/evaluation), and exercise training in people with chronic diseases. She has been Principal Investigator or Co-Investigator of several previous and ongoing large grants from the AHA, NIH, and American Diabetes Association (ADA) to assess exercise performance, functional capacity, and the effects of exercise training in persons with diabetes and peripheral arterial disease. In addition, she is Principal Investigator of the Building Interdisciplinary Careers in Women's Health program that is funded by a K12 award from NIH. She has been involved with the San Luis Valley Diabetes Study in non-diabetics and persons with impaired glucose tolerance. She also was an investigator in the Diabetes Prevention Program and is currently an investigator of the Look AHEAD study (both multicenter studies from NIH). She developed and validated the Low Level version of the Physical Activity Recall (LOPAR), which was used as a secondary outcome measure in the Diabetes Prevention Program. Dr. Regensteiner has been involved in writing a consensus statement for the ADA addressing the appropriate, evidence-based treatment of persons with diabetes and peripheral arterial disease and in developing for the AHA clinical data standards for treating peripheral arterial disease patients.
Dr. Rimmer is Professor in the Department of Disability and Human Development, College of Applied Health Sciences, University of Illinois at Chicago, and Adjunct Professor in the Department of Physical Medicine and Rehabilitation at Northwestern University Feinberg School of Medicine and Rehabilitation Institute of Chicago. He is Director of two federally funded Centers, the National Center on Physical Activity and Disability (funded by CDC) and the Rehabilitation Engineering Research Center on Recreational Technologies and Exercise Physiology Benefiting Persons With Disabilities (funded by the National Institute on Disability and Rehabilitation Research). Dr. Rimmer's research has focused on the effects of physical activity and nutrition on reduction of secondary conditions, including obesity and deconditioning, in adults and youth with physical and cognitive disabilities. He has published more than 90 manuscripts and book chapters and given more than 100 invited presentations to national and international audiences on topics related to physical activity, health promotion, rehabilitation engineering, secondary conditions, and disability. He also is Principal Investigator of a 5-year NIH clinical trial examining the impact of the built environment on obesity in people with mobility disabilities. Dr. Rimmer was recently appointed by HHS Secretary Leavitt to the Board of Scientific Counselors of the Coordinating Center for Health Promotion of the CDC.
Dr. Yancey is currently Professor, Department of Health Services, and Principal Investigator of the CDC-funded Center of Excellence in the Elimination of Disparities, University of California at Los Angeles (UCLA) School of Public Health. She returned to academia full time in 2001 after 5 years in public health practice, first as Director of Public Health, Richmond, Virginia, and, subsequently, as Director of Chronic Disease Prevention and Health Promotion, Los Angeles County Department of Health Services. Dr. Yancey has authored more than 100 scientific publications, including 70 refereed journal articles and editorials. She also has been Principal Investigator on 4 NIH independent investigator (R01, R24) grants. Dr. Yancey's work has been cited by the New York Times, the Los Angeles Times, ABC, NBC, CBS, NPR, and many other media outlets nationally and internationally. She serves on the AHA Physical Activity Subcommittee, and until recently, on the Advisory Committee to the Director of the CDC and the IOM committee authoring the report, Progress in Preventing Childhood Obesity: How Do We Measure Up? She chairs the Board of Directors of the California-based Public Health Institute. In 2005, Dr. Yancey was awarded the California Public Health Association's first Health Promotion Award. Dr. Yancey received her BS in biochemistry and molecular biology from Northwestern University and her MD from Duke University. She completed her preventive medicine residency and MPH at UCLA.
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Bull & Bear Sailing - The Sandbagger Documentary
Originally built in the 1860's, Sandbaggers were work boats used in New York Harbor to shuttle oysters to market. As the sails grew larger and the boats more unstable, the crew would move cargo (and later sandbags), from side to side to keep the boats upright, hence the name "Sandbaggers!" Bull & Bear Sailing travels with two replica Sandbaggers to promote youth sailing and to teach people about the history of these amazing boats. 21 minutes.
About 21 minutes.


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arab spring, Bashar Al-Assad, Beirut, Hezbollah, Kamal Jumblatt, Lebanese Civil War, Lebanese Communist Party, Lebanese Left, lebanon, Nabih Berri, syria, Syrian Army, Syrian moukhabarat, Terrorism, YouTube, Ziad Rahbani
I am from a generation who loved Ziad Rahbani, growing up with his music, songs, shows, plays and 'revolutionary' appearances and quotes like most of the youth of my time.
I can nearly recite all his plays, which I think they were masterpieces and will be engraved in our cultural heritage. I can never forget Joseph Sakr's great songs in Sahriyyeh, the revolution of Abbas and Fahed in Nazl el sourour (which suits our current mood by the way), the social struggles of both Thurayya and Zakariya in Bennesbe La Boukra Shou, the Western conspiracy and our sectarian disease in Film Ameriki Taweel, the broken Lebanese society in Shi Fashel and the stubborn Lebanese people in his last series of Bikhsous el Karameh wel Shaab el Aaneed and Lawla Fos'hat el Amal. I adore his music and songs whether were part of his plays or not. He composed the greatest music and anthems, not exhaustively, but I mention Mays el Reem, Prelude 83, Abou Ali, People's Winds and The Revolution Anthem.


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Atlanta Showhouse: Couple's Night In
A townhouse designed for a young professional couple with no children
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For his space in the Traditional Home showhouse, Atlanta designer Robert Brown created what he calls "more of an evening kind of house." Colors are muted and "moody," and fabrics are warm and inviting. "We don't have a lot of bright colors; everything is very subtle," he says.
Brown worked with Traditional Home editors and award-winning Atlanta builder Pam Sessions of Hedgewood Properties to create a townhouse for a young professional couple with no children. The residence was one of three townhouses in the Traditional Home Built for Women III Showhouse at Woodstock Downtown, an eco-sensitive and pedestrian-friendly community in the historic town of Woodstock, north of Atlanta. The 32-acre development includes townhomes, flats above commercial space, single-family homes, parks and trails, and retail and office space.
An antique wool rug on the chocolate-stained oak floors defines the sitting area of the living room, which is furnished with a mix of relaxed armchairs, a sofa, and an ottoman. "The living room is not overly formal," Brown says. "We used feel-good fabrics with a little texture." To keep a casual attitude, he avoided arranging objects in pairs. "The only pair we have is a pair of lamps." To make it more inviting, "We wanted to break things up with different pieces of furniture."
Interior design: Robert Brown, Robert Brown Interior Design, 349 Peachtree Hills Ave. N.E., Suite A5B, Atlanta, GA 30305; 404/917-1333, robertbrowninteriordesign.com.
Architect: Lew Oliver, Lew Oliver Inc. Whole Town Solutions, 100 Founders MI, Roswell GA 30075; 770/643-3938.
Kitchen design: Linda Pittam, ASID, Pittam Assoc. Inc., 1295 N. Decatur Rd. N.E., Atlanta, GA 30306; 404/373-7375.
Builder: Hedgewood Properties, Inc., 5920 Odell St., Cumming, GA 30040; 770/889-3667, hedgewoodhomes.com.
Photography: Colleen Duffley
Produced by Robert Young
Sofa ("High Back Shelter'' #820-97, finish: American Walnut, Barbara Barry Collection in Baker fabric #93-508): Baker.
Table to right of sofa ("Station Chest'' #4009); table to left of sofa ("Sabre Center Table'' #4079), Bill Sofield Collection): Baker.
Table lamps ("Zun''): McGuire.
Art over sofa: (Our Demons of our Own Making: Self Portrait as a Golem, by Michael David): Bill Lowe Gallery.
Fabric on sofa accent pillows ("Linissimo'' #21033-577 and 21033-336): Hodsoll McKenzie through Zimmer + Rohde.
Ottoman: PierceMartin.
Fabric on ottoman; club chair and pillows on wing chair ("Simpliciano-02''): Sheila Coombes through Zoffany.
Club chair (by Michael Taylor); coffee table ("Antique Thai Low Table'' #T303-22/1805/10): Pierce Martin.
Wood-backed chair to left of sofa ("Ceres" #335-01): Ironies through Ainsworth-Noah.
Fabric on "Ceres'' chair ("Islandia''/ Bark): Beacon Hill.
Wing chair ("Tule'' chair #366, finish: Desert): Ironies through Ainsworth-Noah.
Fabric on "Tule'' chair ("Peruzzi'' #NCF3790-03): Osborne & Little.
Drapery fabric ("Elcot''/Putty): Beacon Hill.
Pharmacy lamp ("Casello"): through Ernest Gaspard & Associates.
Jade discs, antique jewelry: Ainsworth-Noah.
Calligraphy brushes: Mimi Williams.
Bowl by Thomas Pheasant, grasshopper: Baker, through Ainsworth-Noah.
Mirror: Fred Reed.
Rug (Antique Bajar #31792): Moattar.
Books: designer's collection.
An open staircase to the third level is the architectural centerpiece of the living room, sweeping gracefully along a curved wall lined with tall transomed windows. To exaggerate the windows, putty-colored draperies fall from the ceiling to the floor, where hems are allowed to gently crumple. "I like draperies to break on the floor a bit, so these are a couple of inches longer than floor length," Brown says. "It makes the room a little more casual—not too stuffy, not too serious."
A round table nestles into the curve of the staircase, offering a place for keys and mail, and a side chair is covered in a tone-on-tone woven fabric depicting cherry blossom branches.
Round table (Laura Kirar collection #722, finish: Dark Walnut): McGuire Furniture.
Chair ("Bel Air'' #337, finish: Willow): Ironies through Ainsworth-Noah.
Fabric on "Bel Air'' chair ("Kairdo" #F1390-06): Osborne & Little.
Leather piping on "Bel Air'' chair (#973-34243-2172/Pale Tundra): Samuel & Sons.
Throw pillow ("Simpliciano-02''): Sheila Coombes through Zoffany.
Three vases: Roy Hampton through Jerry Pair.
Calligraphy book on table: Mimi Williams.
Art behind table (Methods Deployed Against That Which Remains Invisible, by Suk ja Kang-Engles); art on stairs (White Fields, by Udo Noger): Bill Lowe Gallery.
A wood cabinet from Hickory Chair was painted red for an Asian flair. The top drawer pulls out and folds down for use as a bar and serving surface.
Server ("Morgan" #287740, finish: Weathered Vermillion, base finish: Sable): Hickory Chair.
Art on server (triptych): Bennett Street Gallery.
Lamp ("Plateau Lamp'' #ML-1061, by Robert Kuo): McGuire.
Wall-and-trim paint ("Bleeker Beige'' #HC-80); lower stairway wood panels ("Alexandria Beige'' #HC-77): Aura by Benjamin Moore.
Chair ("Ceres" #335-01): Ironies through Ainsworth-Noah.
Fabric on "Ceres'' chair ("Islandia''/ Bark): Beacon Hill.
Ottoman: PierceMartin.
Because this couple would be at work most days, Brown and his design associate, Lanah Barkley, focused on creating soothing surroundings that would offer refuge in the evenings. "We felt the colors should be restful," he says. "The walls are pretty much a neutral backdrop for collections of art and interesting shapes in the furniture."
Brown carried the neutral color palette into the combination family room/kitchen/breakfast room, but he livened things up with a zigzag geometric fabric on a chair and ottoman. "Lanah found this fabric, and it just knocked our socks off," Brown says. "We're seeing a lot of geometrics in the marketplace now. The fabric really inspired the whole space."
Lounge chair ("High Back Shelter" #820-34, finish: American Walnut, Barbara Barry Collection); ottoman (#820-11, finish: American Walnut, Barbara Barry Collection): Baker.
Fabric on lounge chair and ottoman ("Kanto''/Taupe 1): Pierre Frey.
Sectionals (corner chairs #857-38, armless chair #857-36, ottoman #857-11, finish: American Walnut, Barbara Barry Collection): Baker.
Fabric on sectionals ("Islandia''/ Bark): Beacon Hill.
Accent pillow fabric on sectional ("Shangri La Trumpet Vine'' /Gold #10093-03): Donghia.
Woven pillows on sectional ("Alto''/Birch): Mokum Textiles through Jerry Pair.
Drapery fabric ("Linen Weave'' /Linen): Beacon Hill.
Surround and hearth (quartz surface in Mocha #2370): CaesarStone.
Screen: Bradley Hughes.
Quartz: Jerry Pair.
Antique rug: Moattar.
Table in front of sectional ("Colin'' #2282-40/ chocolate): Hickory Chair.
Table beside chair and ottoman ("Stump Table'' #790): McGuire Furniture.
Bowl and throw: designer's collection.
Paint ("Bleeker Beige'' #HC-80): Aura by Benjamin Moore.
The chair and ottoman fabric's colors—taupe, gold, copper, and chocolate brown—are repeated on furnishings, wood finishes, tiles, and accessories, and the zigzag pattern announces a geometric design theme. "There are geometric designs in the paintings, in the upholstery, and in the horizontal planks on the wall. The room is really a nice study in geometry," Brown explains. The fireplace was simplified with a sleek quartz stone surround and no mantel. "It's more clean-looking," he says.
The LCD-TV from Samsung sits on an adjustable bracket so it can be viewed from multiple areas.
Lounge chair ("High Back Shelter" #820-34, finish: American Walnut, Barbara Barry Collection); ottoman (#820-11, finish: American Walnut, Barbara Barry Collection): Baker.
Fabric on lounge chair and ottoman ("Kanto"/ Taupe 1): Pierre Frey.
Throw fabrics (front "Loup Original'' #F2082-001: Pierre Frey) and (back "Linen Sheen''/ Pewter): Beacon Hill.
Floor lamp: Dessin Fournir through Grizzel & Mann.
Television (40" LCD with 1080p resolution #LN-T4061F): Samsung Electronics.
Surround and hearth (quartz surface in Mocha #2370): CaesarStone.
Screen: Bradley Hughes.
Drapery fabric ("Linen Weave''/Linen): Beacon Hill.
Art over fireplace (Utah, Suite 2, by John O'Connell): Bill Lowe Gallery.
Mocha-colored quartz stone tops a large island that separates the family room from the kitchen's work zone. A blend of mosaic tiles in warm earth tones adds muted color and pattern to the backsplash wall. Distinctive pendant lights were Brown's creation: An electrician drilled holes in the bases of inexpensive glass vases and wired them to hold decorative bulbs.
Quartersawn red-oak Plain & Fancy cabinets in two different finishes—natural with black glaze and ebony—give the kitchen a traditional artisan look, while the top row of cabinets with frosted glass doors in aluminum frames lightens the mood. The glass-front cabinets have interior lights on dimmers, so they can be illuminated at various intensities.
A pro-style Thermador range anchors the cooking wall, and a warming drawer and combination convection-microwave oven are set into one of the tall pantry cabinets. A pull-out faucet and deep sink are centered on the island, and Ann Sacks backsplash tiles unify the color scheme. Lutron's wireless and programmable AuroRa system adjusts light intensities throughout the house to suit different activities, creating ambience and saving energy.
Range (Professional Series 36" Pro Harmony,'' #PRG366EH, all-gas range with 6 burners, finish: Stainless Steel); accessories (3" island trim piece #GP36IT and "Pro Harmony'' #KNOBBLKHC); range hood (Professional Series 36" "Pro Harmony'' hood #PHH36DS, finish: Stainless Steel); microwave convection oven (with 27" trim kit #MCDS / MCT27DS, finish: Stainless Steel); warming drawer (27" #WD27BP, finish: Stainless Steel); freezer (30", Freedom Collection #T30IF70NSP, internal ice maker, and custom panel); refrigerator (30", Freedom Collection, Fresh Food Refrigerator #T30IR70NSP, custom panel); dishwasher (9-program dishwasher with Pro Handle, #DWHD94EP, finish: Stainless Steel): Thermador.
Cabinetry door styles: ("Cloister'' door in quarter sewn red oak and aluminum door with frosted glass; finish on island and taller cabinets on hood wall: Ebony; finish on upper and lower cabinets on hood wall and refrigerator wall: Natural with black glaze): Plain & Fancy Custom Cabinets.
Range backsplash ("Mist'' #AS9117-03, square, straight mosaic, color: #V2878 Mist, Gray, Topo Azul Random Blend/Honed): Ann Sacks.
Countertops (Color: Mocha #2370): CaesarStone.
Bar stools (#8064): PierceMartin.
Fabric on stools ("Linen Weave''/Linen): Beacon Hill.
Pendant lights (designed by Robert Brown): Bradley Hughes.
Dog statue: Catherine Kelleghan.
Asian and geometric motifs continue on the third level, where the master bedroom showcases a brown-and-cream fretwork fabric on windows. Walnut furnishings, embroidered bed linens, and ivory-colored walls repeat the color theme and keep the mood relaxed. "This room is very bright. It almost feels like you're in a tree house," Brown says.
To create a focal point, he arranged six Chinese etchings in oversized mats and dark brown frames above the sleigh bed. A sea-grass rug underfoot adds texture. "I didn't want the room to be overly formal," he says.
Bedside tables (J. Alexander); table lamps: Smith & Grubbs.
Mattress and box spring: Perfect Day by Serta.
Fabric coverlet ("Linen Herringbone''/Terra Earth): Beacon Hill.
Throw pillows ("Islandia''/Oro): Beacon Hill.
Throw on wing chair; Chinese etchings; rug: designer's collection.
Altar table: Robert Kuo through Baker.
Lamp on altar table: Ainsworth-Noah.
Wing chair and ottoman (#A-90 and #AO-90, finish: Dark Tobacco, Barbara Barry Collection): McGuire Furniture.
Fabric on wing chair and ottoman ("Melton''/White #227-09): Niermann Weeks through Holland and Sherry.
Paint ("Gentle Cream'' #OC-96): Aura by Benjamin Moore & Co.
Window treatment and wall covering ("Fretwork''/Chocolate, #101-5B): Michael Devine through Jerry Pair.
Trim (#P-535-05): Place Vendome through Ernest Gaspard & Associates.
Armchair ("Biscuit Tufted'' #B8004-27-121 in Dark Walnut, Barbara Barry Collection): Henredon.
Chair fabric ("Melton''/White #H-227-09) Niermann Weeks through Holland and Sherry.
The master bath also has a tree-house feel, with multiple windows and views of the town. "You're up high enough that you can bathe in privacy while looking out over downtown Woodstock," notes Brown. But to ensure modesty and warmth, windows are covered in Roman shades in the same fretwork fabric as that used in the bedroom. Walls were also upholstered in the fabric, creating an enveloping sense of comfort.
Tub surround (oak): custom.
Tub ("Escale'' bubble massage drop-in bath with chromatherapy, #K-11343-GCR-96, finish: Biscuit); tub faucet ("Margaux'' #K-T16237-4-BN, finish: Vibrant Brushed Nickel); sinks ("Antilla'' glass wading-pool lavatory #K-2369-B11, finish: Ice); sink faucets ("Margaux'' #K-16231-4-BN, finish: Vibrant Brushed Nickel): Kohler.
Paint ("Gentle Cream'' #HC-96): Aura by Benjamin Moore.
Fabric for shades and wall covering ("Fretwork''/Chocolate, #101-5B): Michael Devine through Jerry Pair.
Trim on shades (#P-535-05): Place Vendome through Ernest Gaspard & Assoc.
A McGuire dressing table and slipcovered chair by Lee Industries offer a well-lighted grooming station in the master bath. Ann Sacks floor tiles are warmed by an in-floor radiant heat system.
Fabric for shades and wall covering ("Fretwork''/Chocolate, #101-5B): Michael Devine through Jerry Pair.
Trim on shades (#P-535-05): Place Vendome through Ernest Gaspard & Assoc.
Floor ("Amativo'' #AS10046-02 in #V3113, Amativo Brushed): Ann Sacks.
Desk (#826 in Dark Tobacco, Barbara Barry Collection): McGuire.
Slipcovered chair ("Hatteras''/Natural #5204): Lee Industries.
Art (Meditation 42, by Elaine Connors): Bill Lowe Gallery.
Lamps: Spitzmiller through Grizzel & Mann.
Pedestals: PierceMartin
Flexibility was built into the house's design, with several rooms serving multiple purposes. A daybed in the guest room could be used for overnight visitors or as a cozy spot for the homeowners to read or watch TV. The room's design echoes that of the master bedroom, with nailheads on the end of the daybed repeating the geometric shapes of the fretwork fabric. A hand-painted cherry blossom wall covering, an Indonesian basket lamp, and other furnishings reflect the Asian inspiration seen in much of the townhouse.
The daybed and side chair are upholstered in Beacon Hill fabrics. A soft cream-toned Shaw rug warms the room, while an antique runner unifies the palette.
Wall covering ("Chinese Sparrow'' #F003-02 in custom colorway): Fromental.
Trim paint ("Gentle Cream'' #OC-96): Aura by Benjamin Moore & Co.
Window shades ("Provenance Woven Wood,'' in "Mali'' fabric #WWMA393i, color: Bark, material: reed; Classic style): Hunter Douglas.
Drapery fabric ("Lattice Linen'' /Parchment) Beacon Hill.
Armchair ("Danube'' #M231, Orlando Diaz-Azcuy collection, rattan inTobacco): McGuire.
Fabric on armchair ("Drawn Stripe''/Tuscan Red): Beacon Hill.
Daybed: designer's collection.
Fabric on bolster and coverlet ("Lattice Linen''/Parchment): Beacon Hill.
Fabric on accent pillows (gold with flowers #1984-02): Bergamo Fabrics.
Pillow fabric ("Numa-41'') Création Baumann.
Mattress and box spring: Perfect Day by Serta.
Table ("Bijou" #9785-10 in Chocolate): Hickory Chair.
Mirror: Bradley Hughes.
Floor lamp: Baker.
Carpet ("Orchard Walk'' (B), #HG994-00111/Ecru): Shaw.
Runner (antique Oushak): Moattar.
An artisan-painted wall covering from Fromental that depicts cherry blossom branches adorns the guest room.
Wall covering ("Chinese Sparrow'' #F003-02 in custom colorway): Fromental.
Trim paint ("Gentle Cream'' #OC-96): Aura by Benjamin Moore & Co.
Altar table, red lamp: Pierce Martin.
Art: Bill Lowe Gallery.
Acrylic easel: Baker.
Designed for flexibility, a room on the ground level can be used as a home office or as a staging area for buffets and outdoor entertaining. Two sets of French doors open to a patio.
A sophisticated wireless lighting system allows the tech-savvy homeowners to adjust light levels throughout the house via remote controls. The system can be programmed so that a touch of one button can dim or brighten lights in one or more rooms to suit a particular situation—from cocktail parties to a quiet dinner for two. Control plates are color-coordinated to blend inconspicuously into the walls.
Altar table, book cabinets, trunk, floor lamp, pottery; vases: PierceMartin.
Oval table ("Iron Wood Stump Table'' #785, natural finish): McGuire.
Chair ("High Back Shelter'' #439, Barbara Barry Collection), leather upholstery (#DL1393): Baker.
Wall paint ("Bleeker Beige'' #HC-80), trim paint ("Alexandria Beige'' #HC-77): Aura by Benjamin Moore & Co.
Drapery fabric ("Tiny Leaf''/Charcoal, #SC8394), flange ("Solie''/Charcoal #SC8194): SeaCloth
The second-level balcony is sheltered by a graceful awning of Sunbrella fabric wrapped on a metal frame.
The residence shares a courtyard with several other townhouses, an arrangement that fosters friendships, Brown says. "This couple might not do a lot of formal entertaining, but I can see friends and neighbors coming over to have a glass of wine. You could open the French doors and sit out in the courtyard every evening. It really is a fabulous community."
Awning fabric (Taupe #4648-0000): Sunbrella.
Trim paint ("Southern Vine'' #2138-10; "Texas Leather'' #AC-3); paint on metal railings and beams ("Black Bean Soup'' #2130-10): Aura by Benjamin Moore & Co.
Outdoor furniture (Venetian Collection in Onyx, armchairs (#2250-2000): by Brown Jordan through Kolo Collection.
Fabric on cushions ("Heather Beige'' #5476-0000): Sunbrella.
Robert Brown's fresh take on traditional
"I love taking classical traditional elements and updating them to make them feel more modern," says Atlanta interior designer Robert Brown. One way he does that is by incorporating contemporary paintings, sculpture, and other art into room settings. "Bob loves contemporary art, especially as a foil for more traditional or transitional settings," says Lanah Barkley, a designer who works with Brown. Art plays such a key role in his projects that he frequently chooses palettes and room arrangements based on a client's collections. In the Traditional Home Built for Women III Showhouse, Brown used paintings as focal points or to add warmth and texture against neutral colors in several rooms. The designer's use of calming backgrounds, edited accessories, and colorful original art makes for rooms that are classic, clean-lined, and invitingly casual.


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Lightweight fiberglass urns overflowing with white petunias and romantic candlelight line a strolling path to the back patio, where an evening bridal shower is held. After the party, the plants will be moved back out to a sunnier spot in the landscape.
Your lovely, flower-filled landscape is the perfect setting for entertaining friends and family, but if you don't have much experience in throwing a party it can be a bit daunting. Whether you're hosting a graduation party, birthday bash or Fourth of July celebration, completing this simple checklist of tasks will help you organize and pull off the big event in style. Let's get started!
A Few Months Before:
• Brainstorm ideas for the event, including where it will be held in case of blazing hot weather or rain, who you'll invite and what you'll serve.
• If you plan a big event, start recruiting volunteers now to reserve the date. Follow up again a few weeks before the party.
• Place a hold on any necessary tents, chairs and other items you plan to rent.
• Take a stroll around your garden, taking note of what will be in bloom at the time of the party. If a fragrant rose hedge will be in bloom, for instance, consider seating guests nearby.
• Develop a color scheme for your patio containers, window boxes, hanging baskets and borders. If you're planning a graduation party, use the school colors. Pot up your containers soon after the last frost date so plants will be well established by party time. Reseed any bare patches in the lawn and apply a round of spring lawn fertilizer, so it will be ready for foot traffic in summertime.
• Repair or replace any hardscaping that is in disrepair, including pathways and retaining walls where guests will be walking or sitting.
Independence Day is one of the most popular holidays for outdoor entertaining. Make sure you have plenty of seating available for guests young and old.
A Few Weeks Before:
• Develop your guest list and send out invitations. Anything from fancy printed cards to a simple "save the date" email will do.
• Whether you plan to hire a caterer or provide your own refreshments, make a firm plan now. Using foods that are in season will ensure their availability, ease your pocketbook and be a tastier option.
• Purchase, borrow or otherwise gather tableware, serving pieces, linens, coolers, lanterns and other accessories you'll need.
• If mosquitoes are bothersome in your garden, consider making an appointment with a mosquito control service to spray your yard a few days before the event. Citronella oil torches and candles will help, too.
• Power wash your patio or deck to have it looking like new for the party. If you have a pool, make sure it is clean and ready for guests, as well.
• Deadhead annuals and perennials now so new flowers will be blooming when guests arrive. Take one last look around the garden to see if any last minute tasks need to be done.
Cool nights call for fire pits, where guests can gather to warm their hands, sip refreshments and tell old stories.
A Few Days Before:
• Confirm your guest count with your caterer or shop now for the food and refreshments. Make ahead as many dishes as possible to lighten your load on event day.
• Set up any necessary tents, in case of rain. Chairs, tables and table linens can be set out the night before, if dry weather is in the forecast. Trash bins, coolers and extra seating can be set out now, as well.
• Take a walk around the yard and clean up any fallen debris, sharp stones or other trip hazards. This would also be a good time to pick up after the family dog. Do this the day of the event, too.
• Sweep the patio and clean off any furniture that guests may use.
• Consider temporarily moving some of your nicest potted plants into the space where you'll be entertaining. Deadhead any spent blooms while you're at it.
• Set out backyard games, such as bocce ball, badminton and corn hole, for entertainment.
• Prepare your fire pit and grill by refilling them with wood, charcoal or propane.
• Clean your house, in case the party needs to be moved inside, especially the kitchen and bathrooms, which are sure to see some use.
The finishing touches have been set and the hostess is looking forward to sharing an afternoon treat with a few close friends. It's blueberry season!
On Event Day:
• Finish up any last minute food and refreshment preparation. Use the serving pieces you've gathered to create a gorgeous spread of sumptuous foods and icy drinks.
• Set up a self-serve refreshment station where guests can help themselves as they arrive.
Torches filled with citronella fuel help keep mosquitoes away.
• Set the table, including personal touches, such as beautiful cut flowers from your garden, handmade place cards, candles and other party decorations.
• Remember to take a few deep breaths, put on a big smile and something festive to wear. And have some fun!
Post-Party Tasks:
• Take down and return any rented tents, tables and chairs. While you're at it, return any borrowed items to their generous owners.
• Send thank you notes to your helpful volunteers and for any gifts that were received.
• Do a thorough cleanup of your yard, patio and house. You really don't want to find three-day old, half-empty soda cans filled with ants under the patio table.
• Return any potted containers you had repositioned temporarily for the party back to their usual place, so they'll continue to thrive.
• Aerate and fertilize your lawn in the fall to help it recover if you had heavy foot traffic on it during the party.
Cool season grasses such as Kentucky bluegrass and fescues are best aerated in the fall months. Allow at least four weeks of growing time for your lawn to fill back in before winter arrives.
A version of this article appeared in a May/June 2015 print edition of State-by-State Gardening.
Photography courtesy of Proven Winners, Susan Martin, and SRNicholl/Dollarphotoclub.com.


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BI.CI.ES Metals Srl located at Baia Mare, Romania. We are the purchasers of Bronze Ingots, Tin and Copper Scrap. Currently, we are looking to buy around 500 Tons of HMS 1/2 scrap and Rails scrap. We assure you that payment will be made promptly as it is quoted in the terms and conditions or as soon as we receive the scrap materials. Intrigued scrap suppliers, please send your offer with competitive price along with photos of the products, quantity available.
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Getting ready for launch
After the spacecraft has passed its Flight Acceptance Review it is transported to its launch site. This marks the beginning of the launch campaign, during which the final system functional tests will take place, the spacecraft will be fuelled and mated with the launch vehicle, transported to the launch pad and eventually launched.
Launch sites and launchers
ESA launches its missions from Europe's spaceport at Kourou in French Guiana, or a Russian launch site, such as the Baikonur Cosmodrome or Plesetsk.
Kourou lies just over 500 km north of the equator. Its proximity to the equator makes it ideally placed for launches into geostationary transfer orbit as few changes have to be made to a satellite's trajectory.
Russian launch sites, being located at high latitude, are more suited for launching polar orbiting missions, such as Cluster.
A variety of launchers cater for different needs: ESA's Ariane family of rockets launch large satellites into their transfer trajectories, such as Herschel, Planck and Rosetta. Russian Soyuz rockets launch medium class satellites, such as Mars Express and Venus Express, onto their interplanetary trajectories. The most recent addition to ESA's fleet of launchers is Vega, dedicated to launching low mass missions into low-Earth and polar orbits around Earth.
ESA will also start shortly the development of an advanced Ariane model with a restartable upper stage, which will enable two satellites to be launched at the same time and to be delivered, in sequence, into different orbits. This type of launch capability reduces the overall cost that would result from launching the satellites on two separate rockets.
Launch windows
If the spacecraft intends to rendezvous with another spacecraft, a planet, or other point in space, the launch must be carefully timed so that the orbits overlap. The period of time when the spacecraft can launch and reach its target is known as the 'launch window'. If the weather is bad or a malfunction occurs during a launch window, the launch must be postponed until the next available window. This requires a wait on the launch pad of a few hours up to a couple of days or a return to the integration hall for defueling and refurbishing, in case the wait time is extended.
Flight ready
Transporting the spacecraft is always handled with extreme caution and once the spacecraft arrives at the launch site, it undergoes a final inspection and functional test. The final milestone to make sure the spacecraft is ready to fly is known as the 'flight readiness review'. When this has been successful, the spacecraft is fuelled.
Fuelling is a hazardous operation because rocket propellants are extremely toxic. Technicians wearing protective plastic 'spacesuits' supervise the fuelling, which can take up to a week to complete. It is a painstaking process because it is also irreversible. Once loaded, the fuel cannot be drained without inviting the risk of serious damage to the fuel tanks.
Once it has been fully fuelled the spacecraft is attached to the launch vehicle or to an upper stage – the rocket motor that will propel the spacecraft on its way once it has been placed in Earth's orbit by the launch vehicle. The spacecraft and upper stage are then encased in a protective shroud and fixed to the launch vehicle itself, and another round of tests must be passed to ensure the mating has been successful.
In the case of a launch on a European Ariane rocket, all assembly is performed with the rocket upright. On the Russian Soyuz rockets – but only for launches that take place from the Russian launch sites – the assembly is performed horizontally and the rocket is only hoisted upright when it arrives at the launch pad.
The rollout to the pad takes place a few days ahead of launch. The rocket itself, however, is not fuelled until shortly before. In the last minutes before ignition, lots of data pass between the rocket and mission control. Computers verify that all systems are 'nominal' – the word that engineers use to refer to correct readings – and after the launch director has given the go ahead for launch, the final part of the countdown is executed leading then the rocket's main engines ignition, after which the spacecraft begins its journey into space.