Snapshots from the Frankfurt Book Fair, Munich & Austria

It’s already been three weeks since a remarkable and, in some ways, magical trip to Germany for the Frankfurt Buchmesse. The journey morphed into an unforgettable few days of hiking and sightseeing in Austria, and then returning to my old home in Munich and seeing my dearest friends.

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Martha signs book cards at the Frankfurt Book Fair. She was a big hit with adults and kids alike.

I traveled to Frankfurt last-minute to  support my loving friend (and so much more) of 50 years, Martha Halda, there for the world release of her memoir, A Taste of Eternity, in its German-language version, Der Duft des Engels (The Wings of Angels). Watching Martha  sign autographs for thousands of festival attendees was truly divine, as we spent three years turning A Taste of Eternity from an idea into the life-affirming memoir it is. The same publisher that picked up Martha’s book, sorriso Verlag, also published Just Add Water in German translation — also launched at Frankfurt.2015-10-16 14.41.09

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A moment that warmed the teacher’s heart inside me: Kids hanging in the patio of the Frankfurt Book Fair, sitting in hammocks, reading … refreshing.

The Frankfurt Book Fair is an amazing conglomeration of publishing nations, their authors, and the hands that work the levers behind global publishing. I checked out books and publishers from dozens of countries, including wonderful exhibits at the Indonesia, Vietnam, Ireland, China, and Australia-New Zealand pavilions. (Also had to see When We Were The Boys and Just Add Water in two different booths in the English-language pavilion; that definitely fulfilled a life dream!)

Frankfurt also made a great effort to promote young adult and children’s reading through an outdoor reading area and a weekend nod to Comic-Con. Thousands of kids turned out. The way young reading has gone south in the U.S., I never thought I’d see thousands of teenagers in one place for the sake of books. I didn’t see anywhere near so many at the L.A. Times Festival of Books, whose overall crowd was comparable.

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A few of the earthly treasures at the Antiquarian Book Fair. Most of these titles are older than the U.S.

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One of the books that got Italian astronomer Galileo Galilei into hot water with the Catholic Church. The book was originally written in his hand.

The other highlight was the Antiquarian Book Fair, 48 exhibits and vendors. First of all, “antiquarian” in Europe carries a far different meaning than in the U.S.; jump on the timeline and go back several centuries. The fact that the inventor of the printing press, Johann Gutenberg, lived and worked not 10 miles away, added to the intrigue. Books dated back to the mid 15th century, but my favorite was De Systemate Mundi, a book on the planets by Galileo, likely among the volumes that got him booted from the Catholic Church for heresy and placed under house arrest. So much history in these 48 exhibits … I will be writing more on this.

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Mist, light, snow-covered mountains, and tight, steep roads in small mountain resorts… what’s not to love about this part of Europe?

Afterwards, Martha treated me to a huge “thank you” for helping her with her book — some hiking and sightseeing above the gorgeously rustic, small Austrian resort of St. Johann im Pongau, Austria. I’d driven though this town 30 miles south of Salzburg while living in Munich, but not like this: two days of long hikes, culminating with a random visit to Kreistenalm (Christ’s alms), a ski lodge in the Austrian Alps. While I got us around in my very broken German, Martha reveled. Ever seen a grown girl cry during lunch in a ski lodge? The reasons were clear: Her book concerns meeting angels and the Divine after she was pronounced clinically dead in October 1999, she’s coming off a Frankfurt launch (every global author’s dream) in October 2015, we’re in the Alps, and the lodge’s name is the center of her spiritual path. Wonderful, wonderful moment.

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A view of St. Johann im Pongau from the sky box seats (actually, beginning of the steep trail to Kreistenalm)

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The ski lodge that served up a magical moment: KreistenAlm: Hearty Welcome. And, it was.

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50 years to the month after we first saw ‘The Sound of Music’ in Carlsbad, we joined forces again in Salzburg, where most of the movie was filmed.

We had one more surprise, this belonging to our lifelong friendship. We spent a day in Salzburg, which I knew from having played tour guide to family and friends while living in Munich. Martha waxed nostalgic, and wanted to go on the Sound of Music bus tour. My idea of a tourist bus tour is to get to a destination, put on my pack, jump off at a random stop, and do my thing. Especially in a European city with a strong musical connection — outside America, Salzburg is revered not for Julie Andrews, but for Mozart, who grew up and began performing there. This time, I played nice. The reason? You’re going to accuse me of being a creative fiction writer, which I am, but follow this very true bouncing ball:

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Our ‘Sound of Music’ tour guide was brash, Austrian, and filled with the spirit of the tour. This is the gazebo where the love scene between Maria and Col. Von Trapp was shot.

Fifty years ago, in 1965, The Sound of Music opened and toured select theaters nationwide, among the last blockbuster movies to be roadhoused before chains and massive screen openings took over. A month after first grade began, in October 1965, Martha and I joined a class field trip to see the movie at San Diego’s Loma Theatre. Now, exactly 50 years later, we were touring the movie’s sets, both inside and outside Salzburg, after watching the film again to reacquaint. Let’s just say more than a few people were blown away when they heard this.

Afterwards, we did see a Mozart chamber concert, in one of the chamber rooms in which Mozart performed fairly often at the Festung Hohensalzburg, the 1,300-year-old white fortress atop Salzburg. The Sound of Music is awesome, but there is nothing like hearing a maestro’s music where he performed and conducted. The walls really do start talking…

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A quick return to my old Munich home on Oberlanderstrasse (yellow section, bottom 2 floors of windows).

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The Rathaus in Munich, one of the world’s most amazing buildings.

Finally, my friend Tobias Groeber, the director of the massive ispo trade fair (which I served as U.S. communications liaison for six years), and my closest friend in Germany, magazine publisher Wolfgang Greiner, threw a barbecue in Munich never to be forgotten. We feasted on fishes and meats from Spain, Turkey, and Germany, cuisine from a few other countries, first class all the way.

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How to keep a 6-foot-tall blonde with German blood happy: Bier und obatzda mit brez’l!

What amazed me, though, was talking about Just Add Water with 13-year-old surfing twins. Nothing unusual, except this: they were German surfers, locals who rode those frigid (but sometimes good) northwest swells in the North Sea. Chilling. Impressive. These hearty souls had no trouble connecting tall, blonde, California girl Martha with a place to stay on the Southern California coast. Smart kids!

Enjoy the photos and pictures … and get ready for an incredible next blog, an interview with British author and novelist Ann Morgan. Her book, The World Between Two Covers, may well change the way you read and regard world literature. Her novel, Beside Myself, is equally amazing. We’ll let her take it from there, in this special preview of a longer interview we will be publishing in The Hummingbird Review next summer.

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What A Decade: How Far Carrie Underwood Has Come

(I originally wrote this piece 10 years ago this month, while editing American Idol magazine. It is probably my favorite piece of magazine journalism, and Carrie Underwood is definitely the most put-together female performing artist I’ve ever known. So much is revealed in this interview, conducted two months before her debut  Some Hearts LP and ushered in one of music’s greatest careers. She is not only an exceptional singer, but an exceptional woman and role model for girls and teens globally. For good reason.)

The Country Girl’s Cinderella Story

Years after giving up her dream of being a star, Carrie Underwood decided to drive to St. Louis to audition for AI4. Now, she lives the greatest wish of millions of fans who selected her as the new American Idol while sticking to her simple, hard-working roots.

By Robert Yehling

Here’s a Cinderella story with a country twist. The blonde-haired girl leaves the glass slipper in the clover meadow of her adolescence and heads to college to prepare for adult life. There is no prince, no palatial ball, no castle. Then something happens: the glass slipper finds her, in the form of an American Idol audition. Of course the shoe fits. A year later, she’s a rising star in Nashville, America’s newest sweetheart, and a young woman whom all mothers would want their daughters to emulate.

Carrie Underwood, moments after winning American Idol Season 5 in 2005

Carrie Underwood, moments after winning American Idol Season 5 in 2005

If you’re worried that Carrie Underwood will strike midnight, don’t: The new American Idol’s career is in full ascent. It’s only been six months since we finally saw her cut loose when Ryan Seacrest made the winning announcement – “I will never forget that moment, that excitement, the fans in the audience screaming. How could I not let go?” she says. In that time, she’s cut an album, racked up a pair of major endorsements, headlined Idols on Tour, and considered countless offers from the entertainment and business worlds. The heroine of this fairy tale has met her destiny: life as a star in the 21st century.

“This whole experience reminds me of something I’ve heard quite a few times: ‘If you want to make God laugh, make plans,’” Carrie says. “My life is completely different in every single way possible. I’ve had to re-evaluate everything. What I was going to do before, I’m not going to do now. I’m going to be a singer for at least the next little while. There’s no more planning things out as I was doing last year at this time.

“The big change for me is that now my goals can be much, much higher than what they were a year ago, which were trying to find a good job out of college, work my way up the ladder – the typical business plan – find somebody, get married, have a family. Now it’s make an album, do well on it, so I can make another album, touring, promotion. After I’m hopefully an established artist one day, people will know me not just because of being an American Idol but because they’ve been hearing me a lot on the radio, and what I’ve done as a solo musician.”

How does a charming, highly intelligent and gorgeous 22-year-old country girl from Checotah, Oklahoma handle this sudden fame and fortune? Especially when you consider that she hadn’t flown on a plane until she headed west last November for the Hollywood Auditions? Or that she would much rather wear t-shirts or light blouses and jeans than alluring skin-clinging outfits (as she made clear to Skechers when they chose her to follow in the footsteps of noted sirens Britney Spears and Christina Aguilera)? How does she go from raising farm animals and studying for broadcast journalism finals to dealing with record company executives, television interviews, officials from Hershey’s and Skechers, career agents, press agents, countless people screaming “You’re

the greatest, Carrie!” and exhausting tour schedules synchronized to grueling recording schedules?

Therein lies the secret to Carrie Underwood’s climb to the top of American Idol and how she conducts her life from this point forward. Behind the blonde hair and brown eyes, reserved demeanor and remarkable voice is a woman who understands how to remain calm in the midst of storms. She’s very friendly and a joy to talk with, because she can handle countless conversation subjects while switching back-and-forth between the maturity of a grown woman and the doe-eyed enthusiasm of a girl on the rise. From a crisp tone of voice that broadcasts confidence and self-assuredness to the way she moves, Carrie exudes coolness in the greatest sense of the word.

She also knows she wants and how fortunate she is that her dream circled back to be reclaimed. “I’m a thinker, not a big dreamer. Every little kid wants to be famous, a movie star, a music star, whatever,” she explains. “About 99 percent of the time, it never happens. As a little kid, I used to pick four-leaf clovers out in the pasture and my wish was always the same: ‘I want to be a music star.’ But as I finished up high school, my thoughts were, ‘What makes me special?’ After high school, nothing had happened, so I figured it was time to grow up and get a job. It was important to go to college, learn a trade. So I did that, and then my childhood dream comes true. Life is pretty funny.”

Carrie prides herself on sticking to her core values, personality and interests, some of which raise eyebrows. She grew up bottle-feeding cows on an animal farm in a meat- and-potatoes family, but she is a committed vegetarian and recent honoree of the People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (PETA). “I love to go fishing with my friends, but I always throw them back,” she says. She became the new American Idol by performing country music – Rascal Flatts, Martina McBride and Patsy Cline are favorites – but she’s a huge Green Day fan who plays guitar, piano and drums. She lives in one of the most rooted, earthen parts of the country and conveys pure radiance with every smile, yet her favorite movies are Star Trek: The Next Generation and a host of old horror flicks: Halloween, Nightmare on Elm Street, Friday the 13th and Alien.

Then there is her reserved emotion. Farm life is doubly hard work: In addition to raising animals and crops, and synchronizing life to planting and harvesting seasons, the parents often hold full-time jobs. Stephen and Karen Underwood both worked outside jobs – Stephen at a paper mill and Karen as a schoolteacher – while tending to the farm and raising daughters Shanna and Stephanie. By the time Carrie came along, her sisters were teenagers and vital workers on the farm. They supported and nurtured her singing, first at church, then in local talent competitions, later in high school music programs. However, there was little time for deep discussions or displays of emotion. “We don’t really show our emotions; we’re not big huggers,” Carrie says. “We’re kind of a quieter family. For good or bad, I have a lot of my dad’s personality traits, and he’s a stoic man who gets things done. I really don’t get real excited about anything. A lot of times, I think that people’s emotions should remain within. You seem to have a lot more power and energy that way.”

Carrie Underwood channels her inner Axl Rose during the 2013 CMA Music Festival in Nashville. Her rendition of "Paradise City" reminds me of what she told me several times -- inside, she's a rock-and-roll girl. Check this out on You Tube.

Carrie Underwood channels her inner Axl Rose during the 2013 CMA Music Festival in Nashville. Her rendition of “Paradise City” reminds me of what she told me several times — inside, she’s a rock-and-roll girl. Check this out on You Tube.

There’s a flip side to being unemotional: It’s hard for audiences to connect with you. Despite possessing the best voice on the show – Simon Cowell told a KTTV interviewer in Los Angeles that Carrie’s voice stuck utmost in his mind from several thousand people who auditioned before he, Paula and Randy in 2004 – Carrie heard the loud whispers about her stoic stage presence throughout AI4. While she strictly adhered

to unofficial Rules 1 and 2 of succeeding on American Idol – “Be true to what you do best, and be your most authentic self” – she also ran the risk of being voted off as more flamboyant finalists like Bo, Constantine, Vonzell, Jessica, Nadia and Mikalah whipped up live audiences each week.

“It kind of kept people from really getting to know me, because I didn’t share my emotions as readily,” she recalls. “That’s not such a good thing. I’m definitely working on being more personable. For the first time in my life, I’m dealing with people who live and work at a completely different level, so I put myself out there more. It sure helps that the competition aspect’s gone and that type of pressure is off.”

While Carrie might be a rising superstar to America and the world, she is still a country girl, although people in Checotah and neighboring Muskogee refer to her as “our Carrie,” in the sweet and inclusive way locals regard fellow residents who hit the big time. She illustrated the ever-humbling vibes of going home. “As soon as I got home, my mom told me to clean my room. I was just joking, ‘Mom, the new American Idol doesn’t clean her room,’ and she said, ‘This one does.’ To my family, I will always be Carrie and not the American Idol. I never want that to change.”

Within a month of winning American Idol, Carrie stared into her potential in the recording and entertainment world. She became the newest jingle girl for Hershey’s –

the commercials have been on TV since July – and also signed with Skechers. The first print ads were timed for back-to-school. “I was really surprised to get these endorsements so quickly,” she says. “Hershey’s was really into the image I want to portray. The same thing with Skechers – they target younger people. Plus, I’m really happy to get free shoes and free chocolate. Those are two of a girl’s favorite things!”

Then she laid down a vocal track. With her 19 Recordings/Arista Records single, “Inside Your Heaven,” one of the three songs she sang in the Final Show, she became the first country artist ever to debut at #1 on Billboard’s Hot 100. It also was the first country song to go #1 on the Hot 100 since Lonestar’s “Amazed” in 2000. While selling more than 170,000 copies, “Inside Your Heaven” also topped the Pop 100, Country Singles and Singles Sales charts in July.

Never one to rest on her laurels, Carrie began working on her album during the Idols on Tour, flying to Nashville on her off days. “I don’t want to be one of those people who goes, ‘I’ve achieved the most amazing thing I’ve ever done, so I can cruise now,’” she says. When the tour concluded in September, she returned to Nashville. She’s moving into barely charted territory: Among previous American Idol finalists, only Josh Gracin has broken through in Nashville, but that came two years after he competed. Meanwhile, Carrie attracted America’s huge country music fan base to the show, and is delivering an album to them. Even at the Season 5 auditions, the shift was evident: Numerous country singers turned up from San Francisco to Boston. Everyone who watched her perform with Rascal Flatts on the Awards Show knows that she has superstar written all over her. Sales of her debut album could go through the roof, especially since it comes out in time for the holiday shopping season.

Down the line, she hopes to better reflect her eclectic musical taste. But for now, she’ll stick to her strength. “I definitely see myself on tour singing different songs live, but the album is going to be country first,” she says. “We’ve talked about Rascal Flatts and various people doing little parts, but nothing is set in stone. I’m basically living in the

studio, sleeping in there if I have to, until it’s done. I’m young, and this is my chance. I’m not about to let it slip away.”

It’s fitting that Carrie’s big break came on television. For the past four years, she prepared for a television career at Northeastern State University in Tallequah, Oklahoma. She also managed to keep her vocal chords tuned, singing in a country music show and finishing in the top three for two straight years in the Miss NSU Scholarship Pageant.

However, becoming the star of entertainment shows and talk shows wasn’t on the agenda – nor were pageants. “I’m not a pageant girl,” she says. She saw her future existing as a news producer, director, assignment editor, or in delivering stories and commentary like her heroines, Diane Sawyer and Barbara Walters, “the people who have been there forever and have overcome a lot of obstacles on their way to the top. For a long time, no women were in there. It would’ve been impossible for me to do what I do without them.”

Once Carrie made it to the Final 12, the American Idol producers became familiar with her career aspirations. The producers take a keen interest in Idol contestants’ life goals, even as they work together to fulfill the dream of becoming a recording star. In Carrie’s case, they met one of their own. “The producers were really helpful,” she recalls. “They knew I was interested in a broadcast journalism career. I asked a lot of questions; I paid attention to little things. I like taping things, being behind camera, doing things like editing snippets and segments, stuff like that. They were always so good to answer my questions. I wasn’t asking about my place on the show; I was trying to get some tips from the pros on how good shows are produced, how they come together.

“You know those little snippets they showed about us? I came to the point where I knew what they were looking for. Later, people said how ‘naturally’ good I was at it, how I made things move better and I sounded better. Well, the truth is that I studied this in school, then studied how the producers of the show were doing it.”

The other side of celebrity is a constant request for interviews. While it sounds fetching and glamorous, it can quickly wear down even the heartiest of souls. Carrie conducted daily interviews during Idols on Tour, and will be doing the same before and after Christmas to promote her album. During press conferences, she often studied interviewers for that future day when she might join former Idol finalists Kimberly Caldwell and LaToya London in the TV world – or move beyond that. “I’m totally learning how to interview other people right now by watching the way they interview me,” she says. “I sit there sometimes thinking, ‘Would I ask that question? What different kinds of questions would I ask?’ What I really like – and what I would do if I was interviewing someone – is when people already know something about me and they really get in there, make me think about my next answer. What I don’t like are really boring questions.

“Thanks to my experience on American Idol, I got a lot more comfortable with the camera. Now I have to sing a lot on TV programs and stuff. I’m doing different media circuits and talk shows, and I find I’m a lot more prepared.”

There’s another goal in mind: Getting her degree from Northeastern State. Carrie has about nine hours remaining – less than a semester – and is working with the university to take the classes off-campus. She is also hopeful that through her experience

on American Idol, she can convince the school to credit her. “Certainly, I hope they count my experiences with the show as an internship!”

Carrie’s interest in broadcast journalism replaced her dream of stardom. It also stemmed from another ingrained reality of farm life – always make back-up plans .You never know what storm, drought, shift in the market or other unforeseen calamity will come your way, regardless of whether you’re running a farm, headlining concert tours or starting a new job. Even now, as her career heads toward a stratospheric height that could shoot past Kelly Clarkson, Carrie keeps her contingency plan at her side.

“What if, for some strange reason, I couldn’t sing anymore? I always want to have things going for me, where singing doesn’t have to be my entire world. I want to have the freedom to branch out and do other things. Certainly, music is the most important thing right now. But I went to college and intend to graduate because another career is very important to me. There’s a ton of things that make me happy, and I plan to experience them.”

Carrie will race forward thanks to the huge launch that American Idol gave her, and millions of us will watch her and buy her CDs. While her life reflects many of our dreams and fantasies come true, her personality and values will continue to guide her on what will define her career: Hard work, good timing and the most effective use of her exquisite voice. These are not the musings of a fairy tale, but of a country girl’s new reality.

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Just Add Water: Where autism, surfing, and a world-class athlete meet

On Tuesday, July 14, the book I wrote on autistic surfing great Clay Marzo, Just Add Water, releases to bookstores, surf shops and online booksellers.JUST ADD WATER by Clay Marzo and Robert Yehling copy

Published by Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, Just Add Water culminates a 2 ½-year process of Clay’s story evolving from a dinner table idea to release. We’re also launching the first leg of our signing tour beginning Wednesday night (July 15) at Barnes & Noble in Lahaina, Maui, Clay’s hometown. We’ll then be in my stomping grounds, Southern California, for a week of signings (see schedule below blog), including an appearance at Jack’s Surfboards during the U.S. Open of Surfing July 30 in Huntington Beach.

Stay tuned to or to for more details, as the signing schedule will grow over the next 6-8 weeks.

Just Add Water was incredible to write. I’d promoted the ASP World Championship Tour (of surfing), along with many U.S. events. I also wrote for all of the major surfing magazines at one point or another. It was a blast to put pen to paper again about the lifestyle I love, as expressed by one exceptional surfer.

However, that’s not what makes this book unique among the 17 I’ve written or ghostwritten. The experience did. Since readers rarely hear the ‘genesis’ stories of books, I want to share ours.

It began with a dinner napkin in Encinitas, CA, similar to how John Keats created his immortal poem “The Nightingale”. Only, we were at a Mexican restaurant in October 2012, not a Dublin pub in the 1790s. My longtime friend and Clay’s manager, Mitch Varnes, met with A Taste of Eternity author Martha Halda and I. While catching up, Mitch asked if I’d be interested in writing a book on Clay. Before I said ‘yes,’ Martha brought up the opportunity the book would present  to showcase a family’s deeper struggles with an autistic member.

That did it. YES.clayday-960x340

I also had a feeling… an autistic world-class athlete? A household name to virtually every surfer under 35? With several million YouTube views on his channel? Add that up, and I formed one conclusion: Huge potential readership. I scribbled notes on a napkin, paid the bill, and Martha and I headed home. Quickly. Then Martha had to endure one of my all-night creative blasts. She knew what to do: close the door behind her and let the Energizer bunny write  until he ran out of batteries.

A few days later, my agent, Dana Newman, jumped in. In April 2013, we sold the book to Houghton Mifflin Harcourt through acquisition editor Susan Canavan. By happenstance, Susan, whose office is in Boston, had seen the mainstream media frenzy that followed Clay after his Asperger diagnosis in 2007. She loved it. She also published Temple Grandin, the world’s most-read author on autism (and autistic herself) — another serendipitous notch in our belt.

On a very personal note, the Houghton Mifflin Harcourt offices are located on Boylston Street — the finishing stretch of the Boston Marathon, which I know a bit about. Did I say ‘serendipitous?’marzo-tube

Time to go to work. I met with Clay’s mother, Jill, who gave me open access to everyone and everything — as well as some of the most poignant comments in the book. Then, I spoke with childhood friends Gary and Teresa Manguso about their son, who, like Clay, is a surfer living with Asperger’s. They provided invaluable insight on Aspies’ difficulties reading social situations or facial cues, especially subtler emotional cues. I also spoke with Sarah Brookhart, Martha’s niece, whose young son is autistic. Sarah’s anxiety over her son’s future gave me a direct look at the silent anguish parents face. Which stitched in Martha’s dinner idea.

In October 2013 — one year after we had our pow-wow — I flew to Maui to spend a few weeks with Clay. What followed was among the most enjoyable and challenging periods of my career. What could be more fun than sitting in the water, dining at Kaanapali and Kapalua Resort restaurants, cruising Maui with a lifelong local, surface diving off the coast of Lanai, or hanging out at a hot, semi-secluded break like Windmills — for research? Work?

I’ve seen Clay in countless videos and magazine photos, but there’s nothing like being in the water with him. He made crappy between-season Maui surf look classic with his gravity-defying moves and ability to find wrinkles in the waves that sure looked invisible to me. “Most surfers paddle out to catch waves; Clay paddles out to be the wave. He has to; it’s a part of him,” his behavioral therapist and lifelong friend, Carolyn Jackson, said.2013-09-29 21.49.15

Now to the flip side: we had to develop enough material from Clay’s comments to write the book. Some days, we spent eight hours on the book, with bursts of conversation separated by 30 to 60 minutes of silence… interesting tapes to re-listen to. Some days, he didn’t speak — at all. On those days, the key was to sit quietly, communicate non-verbally, watch him surf or shoot photos of his food (an obsession), and wait until tomorrow. When I did, ‘tomorrow’ was always productive.

I also learned the four ice-breaking topics that get Clay talking … the L.A. Lakers, Western Australia (where he and his girlfriend live part-time), food … and surfing. If you ever hear him elaborate on wave and bottom conditions, and the weather, you’ll think you’re talking to a NOAA meteorologist or oceanographer. He’s brilliant in the subjects that occupy him. “Those with Asperger syndrome have the potential to be among the best in the world at the one thing that occupies them, because it occupies them entirely. They feel they can’t live without it,” Asperger syndrome expert Dr. Tony Attwood said. That fit Clay perfectly.

I spent many long hours wondering how we’d get enough for a book; after all, Clay has never spoken at length in any interview. I used every interviewing trick I’ve learned in 40 years as a journalist to develop and piece together solid commentary from Clay, some of it deeply insightful.

Still, it wasn’t enough for an as-told-to memoir. Midway through my Maui trip, I called Susan Canavan to tell her the original conception wouldn’t work. We mulled over our options and arrived at a biography in structure and style, but with comments reflecting the emotional depth and contemplation of memoir. Given the early reviews, we pulled it off.Photo 2

Without Jill and Gino Marzo, we would have stalled in place. They offered raw, honest accounts of the good, bad and hopeful of raising an autistic son who surfs like he and God are riding tandem. Jill and Gino are divorced, so their perspectives often clashed. Thanks to their graciousness and willingness to bare it all, we saw the deep familial side of this autism issue that is so rarely presented publicly. img014

We also received big assists from Carolyn Jackson; Clay’s girlfriend, Jade Barton; his brother, Cheyne Magnusson, and sister, Gina; the sixth-grade schoolteacher, Mary Anna Waldrop Enriquez, who first saw the hidden gifts in Clay’s mind well before medical experts in Hawaii knew how to diagnose autism; several surfing friends; Just Add Water film documentary creators Jamie Tierney and Strider Wasilewski (Jamie was the first to make a direct correlation between Clay’s idiosyncrasies and Asperger syndrome); my long-time friends Alan Gibby (who made surfing a fixture on ESPN in the ‘80s and ‘90s) and 1976 world champion Peter Townend; and Mitch Varnes. From my writing community, author and retired teacher (of autistic kids, in part) Claudia Whitsitt, and Marla Miller offered great advice during the Southern California Writers Conference at which we all taught workshops in 2013.

When I got home, it was time to write. After four months, we turned in the manuscript and then worked with the publisher for over a year on the other side of publishing —editing, marketing, promotion, publicity, and more editing. Finally, we landed on the date that is finally here: July 14, 2015.

It’s been an incredible journey. Please review us on and Goodreads, tell your friends, Share posts on Facebook, and send me comments on what you think. Be sure to buy the book on Tuesday, July 14, to drive up ratings both online and on bestseller lists. We have that potential, for sure. If you’re around, come to one of our signings.

Then jump into the ocean if you’re near one — and try to be the waves. That will give you an entry point into Clay Marzo’s world


(through August 13)

July 15 — Barnes & Noble, Lahaina, HI, 7 p.m.

July 25 — Witt’s Carlsbad Pipelines, Carlsbad, CA, 10 a.m.

July 25 — Barnes & Noble, Encinitas, CA, 2 p.m.

July 28 — Rock Star promotion, Huntington Beach, CA, 1 p.m.

July 28 – Barnes & Noble, Santa Monica, CA, 7 p.m.

July 30 — Jack’s Surfboards, Huntington Beach, CA, 11 a.m.

August 10 — Tattered Cover Books, Denver, CO, 7 p.m.

August 12 — Left Bank Books, St. Louis, MO, 7 p.m.

(NOTE: Check, and the Clay Marzo—Just Add Water Facebook page for continuous signing updates.)Photo 9

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‘Love is the Beauty That Gives Color to Life’: A Taste of Eternity author Martha Halda

When Martha Halda sweeps into a room, people notice — immediately. If you don’t notice her long, rangy presence, then her smile will light you up. Her laughter shakes the edge off the toughest moments, and her closest friends often find themselves on the receiving end of lips, hearts, winks, sun-faces and other emoticons during texting sessions.

Martha Halda, taking in a Himalayan waterfall

Martha Halda, taking in a Himalayan waterfall

There is definitely a playful, childlike side to the author of the riveting new memoir A Taste of Eternity, one that visibly brightens the worlds of others. Imagine the most loving, vivacious, adventurous playmate popping into your house and hauling you outside, only this playmate has kids that are 30 and 27. Her playfulness is a lesson to us all not to take life too seriously; her ability to brighten hearts and souls comes from more than that.

It has been almost sixteen years since Martha’s life ended, revived, ended, revived, ended… and changed forever. On October 8, 1999, a car accident left her for dead… and then took her away. Before the night was over, she had been officially pronounced dead three times. Her ensuing Near Death Experiences (NDEs) brought her face to face with the Divine in a vivid way she recounts in A Taste of Eternity. More importantly, they changed her life, and how to handle its challenges while constantly seeking to bring out the greatness in others — definitely the dance of an angel.

The world is about to share Martha’ s journey. A Taste of Eternity will be published in Fall 2015 by Sorriso Verlag in Germany. It is scheduled to be presented at the prestigious Frankfurt Book Fair, one of the world’s five largest. Negotiations continue with American publishers, with a 2016 publishing date.

Now that she’s finished the long process of writing such a poignant memoir, Martha sat down to discuss her journey, and what comes next. As usual, the conversation was spiced with equal parts reflection, wisdom, laughter, and direct honesty.

"A Taste of Eternity" author Martha Halda

“A Taste of Eternity” author Martha Halda

WJ: Congratulations on finishing A Taste of Eternity. You were at it for quite awhile; must feel in a way like they’ve finally wheeled you out of the delivery room.

Martha Halda: That only takes nine months and a few hours of hard pushing! (laughs). Thank you. When I was in Heaven, I’d promised God I would write about my experiences there, and that was in 1999. A lot has happened since, but finally, I was able to sit down, put one story in front of the other, and get to this point.

WJ: What was the greatest joy — and struggle — you had with this book?

MH: Reliving it. I had difficulty trying to write down feelings and finding words for what I experienced; words became incredibly limiting. I just couldn’t get the stuff down. (At my life review in Heaven), trying to share my soul’s trials and tribulations from hurting someone… not an easy thing, because at some point, we have to admit our mistakes and face your faults. It’s hard to find the correct words.

One of the ways around this was, I shared a lot of my review with Study groups, friends, to my love. As a writer, he helped me fine-tune the words. He fortunately — and also unfortunately — got to see me when it was overwhelming, when I smiled with joy, but also when a memory came back so strongly I would cry uncontrollably and not be able to explain why.

WJ: The first part of A Taste of Eternity reads like otherworldly writing… because it is. What surprised you most about your Heavenly journey while your body lay on the road?

MH: What surprised me the most… not an easy thing to answer. I was caught off guard that God was not a larger-than-life Herculean figure, full of fire and brimstone, sitting upon a throne. He wasn’t looking to condemn me for all my faults and misdeeds. I had a few of those. This is hard to explain, but he did not have the appearance I expected, and yet I instantly perceived him as The Trinity — Father-Son-Holy Ghost. I do not have “enough words” to describe what I saw and felt. He has no name, no image, I recognized him instantly but still he was merely a sphere, a sphere of energy of the utmost Pure Love – God is Love.

WJ: One of the things we hear about is the ‘life review,’ essentially a high speed playback of our actions, good or bad. Could you describe that experience, and why it became the thematic building block both for A Taste of Eternity and the rest of your life?

MH: I learned that we must treat others the way we want to be treated. Eventually we will feel any hurt we place on others, whether it is intentional or not. I learned no one is better than any other person, not because they run farther, surf better, are more creatively gifted or more financially well off. We are each special in our own way. When our life is done, our relationships and memories are really all we get to take with us to heaven; the rest stays here.

Love and forgiveness are the strongest traits of the soul, because the heart governs the soul. It is a pure expression of God and what a wonderful thing to share. I am never ashamed or feel shy or embarrassed when I express my love for someone. Love is the beauty that gives the color to life, both here and in heaven.

WJ: There might be the most beautiful sentence we’ve seen in a long time. You’ve spoken to groups of some true skeptics, yet when you’ve made comments like this and shared your stories, everyone walks away saying, ‘She really was in heaven.’ But their skepticism was well founded: some NDE stories have proven to be anything but.

MH: You’re right, and that really bothers me. I really want to be careful here, because any experience authentic and profound enough to be written about is something we should look at. However, I don’t understand why anyone would want to willingly and purposefully write a book on NDE if it wasn’t a truthful experience. To write on this subject for me came strictly from my promise to God that “I would tell of his love”. Other than that promise, this would not have been a choice subject. I am sometimes greeted with less than open arms, and sometimes I receive cruel comments like, ‘Oh, so you think you’ve been to Heaven…’ Now that is hurtful.

WJ: One reason people will buy A Taste of Eternity is because their souls yearn for something greater than they experience on earth — and you paint a vivid picture of that ‘something greater’. Why are we so fascinated?

MH: I believe people want to know they matter, that their life wasn’t some fleeting moment with no meaning. They may receive a second chance to correct life screw-ups, and it’s important to know the value of doing so. I felt that was one of my obligations in writing this book. I, for one, want to believe our trials and tribulations are there for some greater good, to use as a marker in our life, or to be there for someone else to learn from.

WJ: That’s a yearning people often don’t share for fear of ridicule — but you’re bringing out into the open.

MH: People have been fascinated by this question for centuries. They just might be more open to showing it now. For centuries, one wouldn’t consider letting anyone know they wondered about the soul’s journey; in many places, this could mean being condemned, or worse.

WJ: To close, you have a wonderful little affirmation that seems to describe both you and A Taste of Eternity. Take it away…

MH: I can, I shall, I will, dance in the spotlight of God’s love.

With that, Martha left — but not before texting out a few hearts, stars, angels and smiling faces. In a sense, heaven-sent.





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Sweet, Sweet Loving Music: This Writer’s Dream

As some of you know, I’ve been quite busy writing about music. There is a certain depth and lushness to words that describe great pieces of music, and the singers, songwriters and musicians who bring them to our ears.


My music writing days go back to the beginning, when I was the second teenaged journalist allowed backstage at San Diego Sports Arena (or whatever it’s called now) to interview bands. Cameron Crowe was the first, two years before me. Cameron had had a nice career arc, writing for Rolling Stone at 14, then writing Fast Times at Ridgemont High, Jerry Maguire, and one of my favorites Almost Famous. If anything put a lump in my throat, it was Almost Famous — especially the scene of the young writer William Miller trying to get backstage in San Diego. That same backstage door has opened for me… and it has closed, too.

salas cover low resThe music writing has really picked up. Two years ago, my old North San Diego County friend, Stevie Salas, contacted me to help him with a memoir about his year touring with Rod Stewart. When We Were The Boys became a fine, fun, edgy memoir, a real add to music literature. It was also my most intense collaborative memoir — we wrote it in seven weeks. It’s done well since its release in September 2014… and is a great choice as you rev up for summer festival season. BTW, Stevie is playing Lollapalooza in Chicago at the end of July…

More recently,  I finished my novel, Voices, a father-daughter-daughter story set against a reunion tour by a legendary rock band. This took seemingly forever to write, mainly because I loved soaking into the musical atmosphere so much, and tinkering with the 50 songs I wrote in the personae of my protagonists (Tom and Christine Timoreaux). I couldn’t let it go — something I do not advise my clients to do. When you hold onto it too long, what looked good turns into an automatic rewrite. We’ve grown as people and authors, and we see things a bit differently — no matter how long the manuscript has been in the drawer.


Marty Balin (left) playing in April 2015 with Jefferson Airplane bandmates Jack Casady (center) and Jorma Kaukonen. Jefferson Airplane’s first concert was August 13, 1965.

To give you an idea, I first came up with this idea in 2001, when Jefferson Airplane founder and Rock & Roll Hall of Famer Marty Balin and I were walking down Haight Street in San Francisco, talking about his memoir. I told him I wanted to write a novel called “The Voice” — his nickname when psychedelic rock launched in San Francisco 50 years ago. He gave me some great ideas, not to mention stories to repurpose. Fourteen years later, it’s going to see the light of day. Look for it soon.

Speaking of Marty, I’m preparing to reconfigure and expand his memoir we wrote in 2002 into a full-fledged biography. When you peel away the claims of people who say they launched psychedelic rock, one name stands above all: Marty (also, a nod to the band The Charlatans). He was the catalyst for psychedelic rock and the Summer of Love. He was the first to use the term “psychedelic rock” publicly. His band, Jefferson Airplane, was the flagship group of 1965-67, #2 among all rock bands in album sales, topped only by The Beatles. The Airplane was the first San Francisco psychedelic band to get a major album deal. In fact, they were the official headliners at Woodstock! Marty also owned The Matrix, which in 1965 was one of few places to allow electric instruments. It also was the first SF stop for many bands, including The Doors, Steve Miller, Love, and many more. Behind it all was this quiet man with a high tenor voice implanted by the angels. His ballads, particularly “Coming Back to Me”, “Count on Me” and “Miracles”, are on more than 50 film soundtracks. Now, Marty is going to finally get the credit he’s deserved for 50 years, though he’s far too humble to claim it himself.matrix-jademuse

Then there’s a real labor of love, helping my longtime friend Robert Munger on his music-oriented screenplay. Can’t go into detail right now, but we’re wrapping the first draft of the script, and then polishing it.

Finally, my new client Lory Jones presented me with an awesome novel to edit, and I mean awesome. It’s centered on a famous 18th-19th century composer, but you’ll have to guess which of the Big Five since I’m not at liberty to discuss. I love classical music almost as much as rock, especially the way it takes us on journeys one minute, and into full appreciation of the grandiosity of the musicianship the next. The Big Five were the rock stars of their era — Bach, Mozart, Beethoven, Schubert and Haydn (or Liszt, Vivaldi, or Handel; take your choice).

Why do I love music writing so much? For starters, music is my hobby, poetry is my passion, and music ties them together. I love all parts of it —composition, instrumentation, delivery, shaping of performances, emotion it engenders, and of course, the lyrics. Whenever I write about music, I’m mindful of the dual origin of lyric and music in the west, through the magical pen of Sappho, the 7th Century BCE Greek genius. She wrote in lyrics, poems and short prose, and her successors took her example into both writing and music.

Most of all, I love the personalities and stories behind songs and bands, and we all know that great stories make great reading. Music, like surfing, baseball and art, cranks out endless great stories. When you put these together, the story can resonate with millions — because we all like music. It is the world’s most universal language, and I like using my writing to prompt that deeper, unspoken form of communication we all instinctively and intuitively understand.


As you start figuring out your summer reading choices, I invite you to pick up When We Were The Boys this year, and look for chapter excerpts from Voices and the Marty Balin biography on and as we close in on publishing dates that are ideal for any music book — tied to the Golden Anniversary of psychedelic rock and, in 2017, the Summer of Love.



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‘You’ve Put a Huge Smile on Boston’s Face’

(This is part 2 of my story about the 2014 Boston Marathon. The 2015 race is Monday, April 20.)

Read Part 1

It began with the invitational entry four-time Boston Marathon champion Bill Rodgers transferred to me. It ended with a scrumptious lobster pie dinner hosted by my family.

The King and I: With Bill Rodgers at 2014 Boston Marathon, after he gave me his invitational entry so I could run the most important Boston ever.

The King and I: With Bill Rodgers at 2014 Boston Marathon, after he gave me his invitational entry so I could run the most important Boston ever.

In between was the most meaningful race of my life, and the lives of most others in the field: the 2014 Boston Marathon. As we all know, the 2013 Boston Marathon ended in the horrible bombing tragedy. For months, the status of the 2014 race was in doubt, though my status was certain: I wouldn’t be going. A nagging ankle injury, sustained during qualifying season in 2013, sealed my fate.

Two things happened to change all that. BOSTON STRONG came alive and, to speak bluntly, shoved it right up the you-know-what of all would-be terrorists; and Boston Billy gave me the gift of a lifetime.

I showed up in Boston in shellshock after Bill arranged for his race slot to end up on my lap. Immediately, I felt a different vibe than the other three times I’d raced. Everywhere, people talked about it. The media devoted most of their news coverage to it. My relatives, who had seen my previous races, were beside themselves that this family member was running (as well as my cousin, Bryan Widmann).Unknown While I wasn’t yet in full marathon form (that would come six weeks later, in San Diego’s Rock & Roll Marathon), it didn’t matter. When you get an invite from a Boston legend, you go.

It’s safe to say several million runners worldwide wanted to toe the starting line at the 2014 Boston, to be a part of history, something beyond ourselves. To be among the 35,000 who got in?

As I write this, nearly a year later, I’m getting tears and goose bumps. That’s how much it meant.

I first understood the scope two days prior to the race, when I drove downtown and picked up my number and swag bag. The race expo was packed, beyond anything I’d ever seen. So was the entire Boston Back Bay area, especially Boylston Street, the site of so much carnage just a year before. My friend, Kathryn Van Artsdall, was also racing for the fourth time. Her husband, my longtime buddy Mitch Varnes, and I were trying to meet up. Good luck with that: too many people.images-1

I then sought out Bill Rodgers, my hero when I was in high school and he was the world’s greatest marathoner. We’ve had a number of runs, get-togethers and good times during our friendship that began in 2008 (including a fabulous run at Walden Woods and Walden Pond, 25 miles to the west), but this was different. “Just run the best you can,” he whispered in my ear. “You’re starting in back since you’re a last-minute entry, so you won’t run your normal time. Forget about it. Soak up what goes on out there. You will never have an experience like this.”

How right he was. Here are a few of those experiences:

Starting line, Hopkinton: While standing in my corral, a drone flew overhead, huge snowplows blocking side streets, and law enforcement stood everywhere. They were scanning the throng like Secret Service agents while openly thanking we, the runners, for having the courage to return. I had never thought of us being courageous; it was more like, “What do I have to do to get in this race?” As for those who were running down Boylston Street when the bombs hit in 2013 and were back again? Now they were courageous.

Starting line, Hopkinton, part 2: The crowds. Wow. They were massive, loud, rowdy, and ready to uncork a year of pent-up agony and rage with a street celebration for the ages. We were the headliners. I’d like to say this scene was repeated intermittently during the next 26.2 miles, but that’s grossly understating it. This was the scene on the entire course.

Mile 3, Ashland: The start was tough for me, because I was a 3:30 marathoner running in a 5-to 6-hour crowd due to the late entry. While trying to find space to run, I jogged shoulder-to-shoulder with two men wearing NYPD shirts. “So you came up from New York?” I asked.

“Yeah. Great day, isn’t it?” one replied.

I smiled. “Like your shirt.” Normally, I wouldn’t look twice at a police T-shirt, but on this day, it felt good to see one next to me.

“Well, I’m NYPD.”

“That’s cool you took the day off to run,” I said.

“I’m on duty,” he smiled. “So is my friend. We’ve got 20 officers in the pack.”

How impressive was that? No stone unturned,” I said.

“Not this year. Everyone in this race, and crowd, is going to have a great time.”

P.S. Out of 1 million spectators, one was arrested, and that for public drunkenness.

Mile 8, Framingham: Unbelievable crowds. Unbelievable noise. People are shouting, “You’re our heroes!” “You make Boston great!” “Thanks for coming out!” They’re surging onto the road to slap fives and bump fists, to touch us, to feel a part of it. At points, they constrict the already narrow roads so much that we feel like we’re running in single file. I look at two women running next to me. All three of us have tears in our eyes. It feels like the most incredible dream, except that it’s very real.

Mile 12, Wellesley: This is where the famous Wellesley Girls line the course, a half-mile of crazy, brainy co-eds toting signs that say, well, some pretty inviting things. We could hear their screams from a half-mile away – literally. I’ve seen more men cause runner jam-ups on this section of the course by crossing to the right side to get their hugs and kisses. This was even more insane. A couple of girls hopped the barricade and teamed up to hug and kiss a 60-year-old, right in front of me.

Mile 14, Wellesley: Where you at, family? I reach the gas station just past the halfway point, where I usually stopped to see family members, grab my drink bottle, shoot photos, and change shoes (if necessary). Normally on race day, about 30 people hang out in this little “quiet spot”. This time, there were at least 500. I needed to change shoes, but I couldn’t find my family. They were there, but swallowed in the crowd. I also needed to put the Velcro wearable holding my cell phone and money onto my other arm, but was fumbling with it while trying to run at the same time. A spectator stepped out and, without saying a word, stopped me, and switched the wearable to my other arm. Then she disappeared into the crowd. Just like that.

Mile 21, Heartbreak Hill: I was spent, my goal time long since evaporated, but I wanted to run – and not walk – up the four Newton hills. Mission accomplished. At the top, three Boston College co-eds saw me and held out pints of beer. “You rock, dude!” one yelled. Another said, “Can you imagine our parents kicking ass like this guy?” They laughed and offered me a chug. I’ve not had a beer since Reagan was president, but that was tempting.

Mile 24, Brookline: The greatest ten seconds of a week full of amazing moments. I was broken down for the first time since my first marathon in 2003, relegated to the “marathon shuffle”, just trying to move one foot in front of the other. The crowds were so massive that the barricades extended several feet onto the road. As I struggled to keep going, a uniformed Brookline police officer stepped in front of the barricades and yelled, “35870! You’re my f****** hero! Go get that medal for all of us!” I’ll never forget that cop. He helped get me to the finish line.

Post-Race, Alewife Subway Station, Cambridge: I had just taken a cab to the subway station, awaiting my Aunt Judy, who was crawling through traffic to pick me up. While I was slumped outside on a café patio chair, my medal around my neck, a diner came up to me. “Did you just run the Marathon?” she asked. “Yes… it was awesome, but I’m happy it’s over.” “All of you are heroes. You’ve put a huge smile on Boston’s face, honey. Can my husband and I buy you an iced tea? Lunch?” How many times had each of us 35,000 runners been called heroes over the past few days? Ten? Fifteen? More? It was overwhelming.

Evening, at dinner: My aunts Janet and Judy, Uncle Brian, and I enjoyed a luscious lobster pie dinner. To be more precise, I ate two dinners while they each had one. My legs were vice-gripped, but my smile was wide and fixed. As was our family custom in 2005, 2007, and 2009, I wore my accumulated medals to the post-race meal, so I had all four on.

An older couple came over to us. The woman said, “I am very proud of you.” Her husband added, “I’m even more proud to be a Bostonian tonight.”

My family sat there, as slack-jawed as me.

Since I’m not running Boston this year (though I requalified at the 2014 Rock & Roll Marathon in San Diego), I will observe my tradition for non-Boston years — running 15 miles in the early morning and then watching part of the race online. I will think about my friends (and my cousin, Bryan, who will be shooting for a sub-2:50), remember last year, and run in silence to remember the victims of 2013. I will thank God for giving me the good fortune to run in four Bostons.

I will also call Bill Rodgers and thank him, again, for putting me into a race like no other. The Marathon starts at 10 a.m. EDT. Go onto for live coverage. Hope you’ll check it out. I know I will. 2014-04-28 05.58.09

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Looking Back on 10 Years of Boston Marathons

(This is the first of two stories on the Boston Marathon, which takes place Monday, April 20.)

For the past ten years of my life, the third week of April has featured one event: the Boston Marathon — or, as they say in New England, “The Marathon,” as if everything else is secondary. While I won’t be toeing the starting line in Hopkinton, MA on Patriot’s Day this Monday, the memories of my four Bostons will flood in as 25,000 runners take to the narrow New England streets for the 26.2-mile journey to downtown Boston. To be more specific, my love affair with this race will carry on.

Near the finish line of the 2005 Boston Marathon

Near the finish line of the 2005 Boston Marathon

Most of all, the course came to life. I’d read about it, watched several Bostons (including a scouting mission in 2003), and heard the stories. I’d even run part of it in 1975, while staying with my grandparents in nearby Arlington. Now, I wore the telltale blue and yellow unicorn medal around my neck. I also found out the difference between identifying as a marathoner and a Boston marathoner. I rarely made the distinction, but when I did, others turned to me with a different expression on their faces. Why? Because Boston is one of only two marathons that require you hit qualifying time standards (unless you’re raising funds for charity). The other? The U.S. Olympic Trials.

T-shirt front photo_0002

With my mother at the halfway point, 2007. Yes, it was that cold.

My second Boston was 2007, when a cold Nor’easter storm ripped through Massachusetts on race day and turned the course into a rainy wind tunnel. We ran into head winds sometimes topping 35 mph. As if 26.2 miles under perfect conditions wasn’t enough! It remains the only race in my life I ran entirely in a jacket (and I’ve run races at temperatures as cold as 15 degrees). However, I now knew something about pacing on this course, and re-qualified with a 3:27. The 2007 Boston had added significance, in that it was my mother’s second and final time watching the race. She and my aunts, Janet and Judy, and my cousin, Sister Louise, met me at the halfway point, where I quickly changed shoes, grabbed my special drink concoction, and shot photos before I resumed.


Boston Strong — the theme for all 35,000 of us runners in 2014.

In 2009, I came back for more — and set a lifetime best of 3:09.33 at age 50. The first realization was almost surreal, running so much faster despite my age. I wore my “Team Heidi” shirt, in honor of my mother, who died in 2008. So did the fifteen or so family members stretched along the course. It was my one perfect marathon, with half-marathon splits of 1:36 and 1:33. I still had enough left to charge the final 600 meters down Boylston Street to the finish line, in front of a massive gauntlet of fans that screamed and cheered. For any recreational marathoner, chugging down Boylston is the ultimate finish — especially when it ends with a lifetime best. Four years later, Boston took on a much deeper meaning when the bombs went off — including one in front of Marathon Sports, where my brother and sister-in-law were standing when I finished in 2005. What a sad, tragic day.

The King and I: With Bill Rodgers at 2014 Boston Marathon, after he gave me his invitational entry so I could run the most important Boston ever.

The King and I: With Bill Rodgers at 2014 Boston Marathon, after he gave me his invitational entry so I could run the most important Boston ever.

Which is why, to me, nothing compares to last year, 2014. Four-time Boston champion and distance running legend Bill Rodgers emailed me out of the blue two weeks before the race and offered me his invitational entry. Billy and I had met in 2008, shared some good times and excellent runs, and become friends. He made the ultimate friendship gesture, handing me the keys to racing heaven for the most important Boston in its nearly 120-year history. I wanted to run so badly, but due to an ankle injury the previous summer, had been unable to qualify despite being in my best shape since 2009. My prime condition was helped greatly by Brad Roy, my high school track and cross-country coach, who gave me the workouts and tutelage that led me to a 1:33 half-marathon at age 54. Then I hurt my ankle. Oh well… Bill took care of that problem. I showed up not quite in marathon race shape, as I was aiming for the Rock and Roll Marathon in San Diego six weeks later (in which I qualified for Boston for the sixth time, including 2015, though I won’t be making the trip this time). It didn’t matter. For the 35,000 of us runners, this race carried far more meaning than posting a good time. (Next: A closer look at the 2014 Boston Marathon, when a city could cheer and smile again [and did they ever!]) 4 Boston Medals

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