Author: theDNF

  • Dad Strength Requires Dad Discipline

    My son is now three-and-a-half months old, and I’m still waiting on Dad Strength—the near-mythical muscle gains that supposedly come with fatherhood.

    Dad Strength seemed like it would be inevitable for me. My complete lack of interest in the weight room, or even pushups, during my youth means the only way for me to go is up. Lugging a twelve-pound baby around is a lot more than I was doing most days before I became a dad.

    Outside ran an article on Dad Strength last month that I found interesting. If you read what the athletes they interviewed had to say, you can see a common theme, and it isn’t Dad Strength. It’s Dad Discipline.

    I’m not talking about the kind of discipline where Dad takes the car keys away after you miss curfew. I’m talking about the reckoning that comes for every parent, athlete or not—the realization that your life is not your own anymore. Some accept this by putting away the parts of themselves that make it hard to be a father; I’ve known many dads who were athletes, “back in the day.” Others figure out how to keep those parts of themselves in the present tense. They strategize. They develop discipline: Dad Discipline.

    Think about what a good dad does. He wakes up early and goes to work. He works hard, comes home, and helps get things done—whether that’s housework, homework, or yardwork. He sits down to dinner and asks about the day. He doesn’t complain. He doesn’t miss baseball games or piano recitals, if he can help it. He goes to bed early and does it all again.

    I have yet to achieve this sort of parenting Nirvana. To do so means to accept the many demands of fatherhood until all coalesce into a oneness of purpose. When I attain this enlightenment, I will wake up in the morning with one objective: be Dad. All else will follow.

    I want to believe it is possible to include my BQ pursuit within the infinities of “be Dad,” at least for a short while, at least for long enough to make that turn onto Boylston. Wanting to believe, or even believing, is not the same as doing.

    After my last marathon in Rehoboth, but before I became a father, I wrote about my plans to resume training. I said I would target speed and power. I said I would do the little things to maximize my training time.

    A few months in, I have been tested. After coming back too eager and burning myself out in March, I adjusted my plans and eventually settled on a weekly routine:

    Sunday: Long run, slow; core work after. (8 miles)

    Monday: Off day except for core work. (0 miles)

    Tuesday: Easy, with strides after. (3-5 miles)

    Wednesday: Sprints, either hills or track; strength after (6-8 miles)

    Thursday: Easy; core work after. (3-5 miles)

    Friday: Easy, with strides after. (3-4 miles)

    Saturday: Tempo; strength after. (7-8 miles)

    It all adds up to about 30 miles of work, two workouts, three core sessions, two strength sessions, and two days of strides. I wish I could say I’ve been doing all of that.

    The truth is, doing the little things, after you’ve already done the big things, is really hard. I have avoided core work like the plague this past month. I have been decent about the strength work and strides, albeit in small doses: 10 split squats on each leg and 2 x 10 pushups, with or without some calf raises, is a “strength session” for me, and 4 strides is a lot. I’d love to be doing twice as much.

    I used to use a journal to keep myself accountable in times like this. Back in 2022, as I was gearing up to DNF Philadelphia (I swear I will eventually write about this instead of just flogging myself for it), I made an effort to go to bed earlier and it worked. It worked because if I was in bed with the lights out before 10pm, I checked a box when I woke up the next morning; if I didn’t, then I didn’t. This was the motivation I needed to make the habit stick. Accountability was my discipline hack.

    I kept a meticulous running journal all through 2022, and through most of 2023, before falling off the wagon. It was a lot to keep up because the format was custom and I was drawing it by hand every week.

    I tried reviving my journal in a less demanding, less custom format this year, and I barely made it to March. Now I’m trying to find a way to create the accountability I had in those journals without also creating work I don’t have time for. In 2022 and 2023 I finally realized the value of The Process and put it to work, page by page. In 2025 I need to tweak The Process so it fits into my family and becomes part of my Dad Discipline.

    In related news, this Sunday was my first Mother’s Day as a father, which was more important to me than any race day could be. I planned a big homemade brunch to celebrate, and I thought I would be stressed about getting everything ready in time, but I wasn’t. Instead, I took my time, thought through each step in advance, seized opportunities to get more done, and didn’t sweat the tiny mistakes along the way.

    Brunch came out great. Most importantly, my wife loved it. I was so relieved, and so happy.

    Dan the Runner can learn a lot from Dan the Dad. Maybe soon enough he will, and all will be one.

  • Race Weekend Recap: Run With Eagles and GST Miami

    Between a local 5K race and Grand Slam Track’s Miami meet (each alike in dignity, and in warm weather), I spent a lot of this weekend running or thinking about running. Unfortunately, I didn’t spend it writing about running, so here we are again with a Monday night blog.

    Run With Eagles: A Hot, Windy Homecoming

    This was my third time at the Run With Eagles 5K in Allentown, NJ. My father-in-law helps organize the race with the local Lions club; when he heard his daughter was dating a runner, he was keen to sign me up!

    That was in 2018. I was finally making a somewhat serious effort to get back in shape, which would eventually slingshot me into training for my first marathon in Oakland in 2019. I looked over the past results and liked my odds at winning it. I showed up excited to race—until I saw a high-schooler in his team sweats. He sat on my shoulder for two and a half miles and outkicked me easily. We both defeated New Jersey Governor Phil Murphy which, given that this was a race, I think made me Lieutenant Governor of the Garden State at the time. I didn’t seek reelection.

    The race also offers a prize for the fastest Eagle Scout, a relic of its early years as a community service and fundraising effort for the local troop. I spent my teen years earning merit badges, which wasn’t exactly what all the cool kids were doing, so I thought I would have that prize in my back pocket in the event of an “upset.”

    My teenage opponent was an Eagle Scout too. From the very beginning, this race has had a way of keeping my pride in check.

    When I showed up to race this weekend, I knew right away it would be another humbling outing, though not because of any student-athlete spoilers (He went on to run Division II cross country and never returned to defend his title—I won the 2022 edition in 17:58). No, this time it was just unseasonably hot, and the out-and-back course was starting into a stiff headwind.

    Oh! And I was a new dad who was struggling to maintain 30 miles per week. As much as I wanted to prove I hadn’t lost a step, time goals were out the window.

    Thankfully, I recognized this and ran accordingly, keeping a pretty even pace en route to an 18:34 victory.

    It’s worth mentioning here that the prizes at Run With Eagles are above and beyond what you’d expect for a local 5K. Cream Ridge Winery hosts the race, so I got a bottle of wine, and on top of that a trophy, a gift card to the local running store, a bouquet of tulips, and—as fastest Eagle—a pint glass. Frankly, I don’t know why the hometown heroes don’t come back; it pays for itself!

    I definitely spent some of my time on Saturday wishing I had felt a little more fit out there, but it was hard to be too preoccupied when it was such a beautiful day for a race and the mood in town was so high. While warming up, I spotted a guy in neon green shorts and we joked that bright colors go faster (I was wearing neon orange). When he saw me leading the race later, he called out, “It’s the shorts!”

    I had several friends racing too, and my family was cheering. The race director came dressed in his Kentucky Derby finest and sent us off with a bugle; people were having fun.

    I came home to my in-laws’ house, wolfed down a cheesesteak from a local place, took a shower, and slept for two hours. It was a good day.

    Grand Slam Miami: The Times They Are Improving

    I have been following Michael Johnson’s grand experiment with Grand Slam Track since it was announced last year. With the Diamond League effectively disappearing behind FloTrack’s no-way paywall, I was looking forward to the possibility of actually watching some compelling professional races as they happened. So far, Grand Slam Track has delivered on that.

    Emmanuel Wanyonyi showing up the entire Paris 1500 podium in Kingston was a fabulous proof of concept, and I was disappointed he didn’t return as a Challenger in Miami, but there was a lot to be happy about. I know this is against the ethos of the league, but I was pleased to see some impressive times come out of Miami. Granted, with the exception of Agnes Ngetich’s masterful 5000-meter win from the front and her hard-fought 3000 with Eisa and Meshesha, the distance races were not the impressive ones by the stopwatch—until you look at everyone’s off-distances. Marco Arop runs a new PB of 3:35. Yared Nuguse runs 1:44!

    Seeing athletes push themselves in their non-specialty events is something I’ve really been enjoying about Grand Slam Track. It’s hard not to get excited about Yared’s 1500-meter chances later this year after seeing him sniff the front of a competitive 800 and go 1:44. It’s also hard not to watch Alison dos Santos rounding into near-PB 400-meter form in May and wonder what might happen next time the Big Three square off.

    And what the hell can Sydney run for 400 in LA?

    This is not to mention speedy specialties from the likes of Kenny Bednarek, Masai Russell, Gabby Thomas, and Trey Cunningham—to name a few! The track was fast! Fast is fun.

    Grand Slam’s next stop is in Philly at the end of the month, and mine is in Bloomfield for the Sunset Classic 5-miler in late June. Over the next eight weeks, I’ll be trying to build consistency: consistent mileage, consistent workouts, consistent cross-training (my biggest weakness), consistent rest (with the new baby, my biggest question mark!), and consistent positive attitude.

    If this is going to work for me and my family, I have to embrace the process and do a little bit every day to get where I want to be. I have to embrace celebrating a “slow” 5K because I ran it smart and had fun. I have to embrace my son because he’s so cute. I have to embrace my Point A and my Point B, and find the way between.

  • Catching Up

    I am starting this post at 6pm Monday evening, when I should have already posted something, and so in that sense I am catching up. I was already planning on writing about how things have been going since Rehoboth, so this at least feels on-theme.

    But first, let’s catch up on some recent history. Last week I opened up shop at The DNF, which was exciting for me. I put my money where my keyboard is and paid for a domain name. I decided to take this writing exercise a little more seriously.

    I enjoy taking things seriously.

    I logged into Canva and designed a logo. I signed up for socials I have only glancingly, or never, used before: Bluesky, Instagram, Threads. I have no delusions of doing the runfluencer thing, but I want to put myself out there in case anyone besides my closest friends like what I have to say.

    I’ll catch you up on this past week by saying that I am not enjoying my experience with these new socials so far. These algorithms are brain poison. They are partly the reason this post is so late; I tripped and fell into the infinite scroll so quickly I lost a couple evenings to an internet-induced malaise.

    One thing that grabbed me so quickly is the alarming number of bad takes out there. Many of them are designed to lure you in and get you to react, but I think some of them are just bad. I saw a video where a man said, into a camera and with total certainty, that prime Eliud Kipchoge would beat prime Usain Bolt in a 400-meter race because, and I quote, “When Bolt hits 70 meters, he is already slowing down.” As if Bolt would race 400 meters the same way he raced 100, and as if his 400-meter PB weren’t readily searchable in our vast information landscape! It’s 45.3.

    It’s not Bolt’s best event, obviously, but to think a 5000-meter specialist who moved up and dominated the marathon for nearly a decade ever had a 45-second quarter mile in him is ridiculous. David Rudisha, whose 2012 Olympic 800-meter gold is one of my favorite races ever, is the more interesting comp here, with a 45.5 to his credit. If nothing else, it would be a showcase of two of the most brilliant strides in all of sport.

    If you’re thinking this post is already getting into the weeds, you can see how I only sat down to write this post at 6pm this evening. I will be using The DNF’s social media accounts as little as possible going forward.

    Let’s catch up!

    December

    Aside from running Rehoboth, I spent December hauling around various baby supplies, building nursery furniture, and getting ready for and hosting a housewarming-slash-Christmas party. That was just the first half of the month.

    I started running again just before Christmas, with snow on the ground: a few miles a day with drills and strides, trying to maintain some all-around fitness before I went into hibernation with my wife and our new baby. I hit 2,400 miles for 2024, which is a new high for me.

    January

    My son was born on the 24th, which was incredible in every way. My wife was incredible. My son was incredible. The doctors and nurses and staff were incredible. I was a first-time dad and did the best I could for everyone in support.

    Everyone came home happy and healthy, and tired. I volunteered for the night shift and quickly transitioned to Hawaii Standard Time, here in New Jersey. My wife and I learned a lot. So did my son. Even three months in, it’s already amazing to look back on. Life happens really fast when you have a baby.

    My running life was far less interesting leading up to that. I was dividing my time before the birth into two days running, one day of Ring Fit Adventure. I ran some hills. It was enough not to go crazy while we waited for my son to arrive, but it wasn’t much more than that.

    February

    If my running life was boring in January, it was almost nonexistent in February. In the dead of winter, it wasn’t the worst thing to stay inside. Coming off the night shift and back to Eastern Standard Time was brutal. None of it was as brutal as the early days of motherhood, or of human life. This month was intense. I went back to work four weeks after my son was born, and by then I was also running a little bit, somewhat regularly. The search for a new normal was underway.

    March

    I was in like a lion and out like a lamb this month. With my first taste of regular running in late February and my son starting to sleep pretty well, I came roaring out of the gate and crashed hard. For whatever reason, I decided I would try Canova-style workouts for the first time with almost no base mileage and a mountain of sleep debt.

    Here’s how I spent the middle weekend of March:

    5mi @ 85% 3K Pace (~6:10)

    8 x 200 @ 115% 3K Pace (~33) with 2 minutes rest

    Strava embeds do not work without a beefier WordPress plan, apparently?

    This on back to back days! What could possibly go wrong? Why not add some hills on Wednesday? Why not try another long tempo run on Saturday? Hey, Dad, how much sleep are you getting these days?

    I had to cut that next tempo so far short I walked over a mile to get home. Oops!

    Dad Strength is earned, not given. I hadn’t paid my dues.

    April

    Here we are at the end of April, and I have learned a few lessons. I am sure I have many more coming, but by now at least I am listening much more to my body. I wish I could say I’m not stressing too much over running so early into fatherhood, but old habits die hard. For now, things are working. I have the love and support of my wife, and a brand-new joy in our son, and with a little effort and a little luck we will keep finding that new normal together.

    I have a 5K coming up next weekend that will be a fun rust-buster, if I’m open to that. I’ll have someone new cheering for me, so I think my head and heart will be in the right place.

  • The DNF Begins with a DNS

    Happy Marathon Monday and happy launch day to The DNF, a mere mortal’s running blog. Today is the 129th running of the Boston Marathon, and it is also the second running I’ve been personally rejected from, so it seemed like a fitting day to launch a website that, by its very name, is obsessed with failure.

    Why is this blog called The DNF?

    Well, I workshopped a lot of other names and they were lame. The DNF is catchy and counterintuitive. It’s fun and I like it. There are other DNFs out there—a Formula One podcast, various reading blogs—but this one is mine. Maybe it’s not the best for SEO, but it’s also not hurting anyone. Anyway, this is the most boring reason why this blog is called The DNF.

    It’s also called The DNF because stepping off the course at the halfway point of the 2022 Philadelphia Marathon (and walking a mile and a half in below-freezing temperatures to get a ride home) has become a foundational memory of my running career. I will eventually dedicate a post entirely to that race and the effect it had on me, but part of that effect is this blog.

    Finally, it’s called The DNF because a DNF is the most painful race result, and therefore the most human. After any other bad race, the non-runners in your life will tell you Hey, at least you finished, and that’s so impressive—like that has anything to do with it. Everyone understands a DNF. This is good, because a DNF is when you most need to be understood.

    Every DNF is a story, each unhappy in its own way. Three letters contain multitudes. For sale: running shoes, never used.

    My DNF is my story, and it is part of my story. The DNF is my blog. Welcome.

    The DNF will update every Monday with thoughts, posts, and essays from my life as a runner. Let me catch you up on that, briefly:

    I started running as a high school cross country and track athlete in northern New Jersey. I graduated with 800/1600/3200 personal bests of 2:04/4:34/10:18. Times don’t matter in cross country, but without any real accolades they’re all I have; Jersey kids will know what my 17:41 at Holmdel means, and that’s about it.

    I joined my college team as a walk-on, underwent two surgeries for chronic compartment syndrome, and never ran a step faster than I did in high school. I was cut after three years, in effect DNF-ing my college career, and walked away from the sport.

    I started running again three years later as a bored young professional living on his own in Montclair, New Jersey. I was completely out of shape and had a lot of work to do, but it was two more years before I really started doing it; in 2017 I told myself I would qualify for and run the Boston Marathon.

    In 2025 I am still chasing that goal, as a less-bored, less-young professional living in Nutley, New Jersey with my wife and son. I recently ran 2:52:48 at the Rehoboth Beach Marathon and will likely be rejected from Boston a third time this September. I originally wrote about that experience on Medium, and you can still read those posts there. All new posts will be right here at The DNF.

    I invite you to follow me through training blocks, down rabbit holes, across finish lines, and of course on social media.

    A DNF is unfinished business. The DNF is my attempt to finish it, and to share it with you. Thanks for running with me.