A couple of years ago, in our valiant effort to fit in, we brought Peter to a local Boy Scout meeting. As a mother, I was enamored with the idea of boys working together to make the world a better place as dads (and moms) mentored. We lasted one meeting. I’m not sure why we failed so epically since I know so many kids that love the organization. In their neat orange and blue uniforms, the boys were excited to make wooden cars, sell pop corn and help little old ladies across the street. When we entered into the meeting hall, I could compare my son to a dog being dragged into the vets office. The brakes were on and his eyes became saucers perhaps out of fear rather than a sense of fascination.   I knew then and there that I wouldn’t have an Eagle scout in my family. I left with a similar feeling that I have felt before. We had faced the same situation with baseball just a year before. It was like there was a large 500-piece puzzle to finish and my kid was a piece from a different puzzle all together. I looked at my husband and sighed. He looked un-phased. A man that rides his bike 12,000 miles a year, runs 2000 miles and keeps people alive all day in the hospital never follows anyone else’s beat. He has the strongest convictions of anyone else I know. To understand my son, I need to look no further than my own spouse. As Peter’s age, he taught himself to row, which would eventually bring him international success. He worried little about what the other kids were doing and found himself fully content riding his bicycle to middle school no matter what the weather. His idea of entertainment was lifting every rock along the Connecticut shoreline to see what was underneath. His destiny was nobody else’s but his own.  So I guess it’s best if I step back and let these boys find their own way on their own terms. I know that they are fortunate to have each other because no mold seems to fit them. And while that nice little old lady crosses the street with her boy scout, they better watch out for the crazy boys barreling down the hill on their bicycles. These boys have a way of keeping life interesting. 

For a couple of years now, I couldnt help but oogle over people’s Instagram pictures on Facebook. For ages, Instagram was put out there with only one thing in mind: making non-Iphone people jealous. I waited a long time for an Iphone…a really long time. I went through many stages of sadness about this. There were moments in stores where I would do anything for an Iphone to look up coupons. I have been lost countless times, where I think Siri could have helped.  As for a calendar…it’s a miracle I have remembered anything for the last 5 years without it. The list of laments was huge. In the photography world, I may as well been a long-time resident of the stone ages. My husband got an iphone back in January. He’s a physician who never used a cell phone until recently.  He uses his new Iphone to play Doodle Jump and send people emoticons while I was missing out. I would look at him angrily as I would use nine buttons to type out text messages.  I was missing more than half the keyboard. A half hour later, people would receive my one-word texts.  Yes, the world is cruel. After pulling off another Go Far race, I decided to purchase myself a gift. Go Far doesn’t make me a cent, so this felt well deserved. The excitement while walking through the mall was palpable. I had my tween with me unknowing that in just minutes, she too would hold her own phone and the key to a world of texting.  As the man in the store tried to sell me every other phone in creation, finally I blurted out, “Really, I need no song and dance, just get me the Iphone!!!” He hadn’t realized how desperate I had become. The decision of white or black was a no brainer, and soon I walked out of the doors of the mall and into the new age. Behind me, my daughter was fist pumping, shrieking and doing pirouettes with her new purple bedazzled phone in her hand. Yes, life is very good. Now I can Instagram, which by the way is super freakin’ cool. I can take pictures without carrying 45 pounds of camera on my shoulder. I would gladly challenge Clint Eastwood to a quickdraw of our Iphones. We could both get a shot of each other getting the shot.  My husband rolls his eyes as he qualms that I can now get every breathing moment of our lives on film. He may roll his eyes, but I have an Iphone and those hazel beauties can roll until the cows come home. I’ll be busy Instagraming them while they do. 

Since I was a kid, I loved watching tv shows about how things are made. Mr Roger’s was famous for it. He would take his young viewers to all types of places where things would be fabricated. Seeing the finished product is never really enough for the curious mind. There are far too many questions to be answered. For so many of us, the ways the products we use and consume are created remain a mystery. Recently a good friend of the family, Russ Hassman  invited us to his sign making company, National Sign. What I love about his product is the fact that his creations are the icing on the cake of the American dream. When his company produces a sign, it usually represents the hopes and aspirations of someone’s business venture. Like all the corporations that he makes signs for, he too once started with the humble hope for success. When seeing his employees at a company picnic, it came as no surprise as to why this American dream is being realized. His team members are truly invested in the company and in turn, he is truly invested in them. It all makes sense and as I walk through the building noticing there are clues to its success everywhere. The first and immediate observation is its open environment. There seems to be no covert mission here as ideas and action come together in a space designed for open communication. The executive’s drawing board is only an arms length away from where the finished product will come to fruition. The recipe for success is born in a team that seems to respect each other from the top down. The company picnic is in full swing as it celebrates Octoberfest. No matter that it’s June; things here seem to go by the beat of their own drum anyway.  None of the employees even give a crooked stare at the head honcho attired in his party lederhosen. Another sign of the company’s the good nature. Children and friends are welcome to come inside and see bits and pieces of the creative process. It’s a photographer’s playground. Back outside, a staff member brings out his crafted Octoberfest sign and is applauded by his coworkers. The oompah music plays on and co-workers link arms. As the merriment continues, the next generation of American workers plays games. These children will continue the dream. I leave feeling enlightened and encouraged. Today I have learned never to underestimate the magic that happens in unadorned looking industrial parks all around our county. Tiki Taki Tiki Taki, Hoy Hoy Hoy!

We drove, looking for a photo that captures the sweltering heat. In this town, there are no open fire hydrants with kids running through them on a 100 degree day. Most are holed up in the cooled comfort of their air-conditioned cars or homes. So in a world of artificial cooling where does a photographer go to capture the brutal heat around Durham, CT? To the farm of course! It’s been a while since I walked the dusty barns I love. As my busy life tries to pull me away from rural splendor, something always draws me back. I walked into the huge barn hoping to see how a cow cools down around here. Sure enough, three massive turbine fans spun and water shot out as mist onto the accepting cows. The keeper wore her Wellies that barely kept her dry, She ushered in one group of ladies after another to get a turn under the fans. Everyone garnered a piece of relief. Life in a farm, although tranquil is never dull. Adjacent to the bovines having their  spa treatment an entirely different story was happening.  In a well-bedded pen sat a mother and newborn. The calf had come into the world only minutes before. I watched her head bob as her mother cleansed the birth from her her. The new remarkable life lifted any weight that the encumbering heat tried to render.  In my busy weeks before, I had neglected to slow down and look for these little miracles that lie around each corner. This wonder became unwrapped in a canopy of heat. Despite the temperature, I left with a cooler disposition, once again realizing the good in life.

Just days before Go Far Go Fast, I walked into a restaurant in Durham. As I waited for a table, 2 children wearing their Go Far necklaces approached me and gave me a big hug. After asking them how many miles they had run this year and if they were excited about the upcoming race, it was clear to me that Go Far has become a real piece of the fabric of this town. With the growth of the program, it becomes more personal with every child we work with. I feel as if I have a responsibility in seeing this generation of children achieve their life goals, become stronger, reach higher and become good citizens. I had good teachers. I grew up in a family that shared the Olympic dream. My brother was an Olympian and while I never achieved the ultimate goal, I knew it’s journey well. To get an athlete to the Olympics, it takes an unprecedented effort on the part of the every family member and a support network like no other. There is sacrifice and a tremendous degree of dedication. While I lived this experience in my youth, it’s no different today in the way I  try to direct Go Far. Call it what you will, but Go Far is designed with the utmost success in mind. There is a popular advertisement by P and G about raising Olympians. I encourage you to watch a few clips and soak in their stories. Each story isn’t about overnight success. It isn't easy. Instead, we hear of a longer road full of highs and lows. But the flame is never extinguished. After watching, think about the Go Far model and consider our task. While the children we serve may not all become Olympians, they deserve an Olympic size effort on our part. The people that mentor your child at Go Far have no guarantee of a child’s success, but they are willing to see him or her through. Because we have decided to keep this program local, each child’s success is at our fingertips. As a community, supporting and applauding our athletes are well within reach. I would personally like to thank all of those that have made this program what it is. Go Far Go Fast proved that something is working. The race may have only lasted 3 hours, but the entire year leading up to it fostered palpable energy. In it’s unique, homespun nature,  GFGF showed us hope beyond measure. In every determined face, the community stood behind it and in every finisher’s smile, the community stood proud. 

See the P and G clips :  Raising an Olympian , Team Mom, Sean Johnson, Alexandre, Ryan, Jessica, Chris, Britta, Keri Anne, Kavita, Alicia


On behalf of all the kids, thanks to everyone who helps Go Far.

As you can see, it takes a community:

School leaders:

Lyman School-Paula Sanzaro Pietruszka , Lee Glidden

Brewster-Becky Finnerty, Janine Kozik

Korn School- Kim Salley

Memorial School- Kristen Kleeman. Yes, we made Go Far-X happen!

Jeremy Brown- High School Mentor to Middle schools

Thanks to all of the daily Go Far parent mentors.

Susan Viccaro and all of the District 13 principals- For their trust all along and understanding  of Go Far’s vision.

School staff including teachers and support staff for all your cheerleading and help organizing.

The Durham and Middlefield Local Wellness Council: For supporting the vision from day one.

The District 13 PTA’s

Empower and CVEF, this year’s main benefactors.

Go Far Go Fast Race day:

Durham Fitness- 2012’s Go Far Go Fast Title Sponsor

The Durham Fair Association - for the best venue ever! (Special thanks to Deb Waz and Tom)

Toby Bates and the Boy Scouts for parking.

Sandie Dalles for her invaluable assistance with age-grouping.

The Durham Woman’s Club- for purchasing food and distributing.

The Durham EMS for tending to race battle wounds.

Hans Pederson for helping announce and keeping us rocking out.

Michael Hayes of Patch for your big efforts in getting the word out.

Heather Castiglia for an amazing T-shirt design!

Coginchaug Little league and Soccer for re-arranging their schedules. 

To Michael Meurs for finding  Abby Cannon to lend her beautiful voice for the National Anthem.

To the brilliant Hassman family for fabricating 84 of the coolest trophies ever!

Robyn Reynolds, Marc Scianna, Alex Edwards, Jen Holland, Rocky of the Rock Cats, Roger Kleeman, Chris Schulten, Laura Francis, Jon Brayshaw, and Lavinia Vigue.

The many parent volunteers, who helped set-up, do registration and breakdown the event. (too many to name)

…and the following sponsors: Country Flower Farms, National Sign, Glazer Dental, The Iron Scissors, Indian Springs, X-Pect Discounts,Ludwig Motors, Lee Manufacturing, Perk On Main, Comprehensive Orthopaedics, Dzialo, Pickett and Allen, Arrigoni and Johnson Oil, Core Club, Dean Autoworks, Durham Pharmacy, Nancy Ferraro Marriage and Family Counseling, Jennifer Schulten Photography (hey that’s me!), Larkin’s Run, Lino’s, Stafford Marine Services, TD Bank, Zadi and Rigali Orthodontics, Lyman Orchard, Carmine's Pizza, VMB Custom Home Builders, Ken Jay Landscaping and  Fine Work Home Improvement

I hope I didnt forget anyone. If I did accept our appreciation.

Becky, Kim, Janine and Sandie...without you, this race wouldn't have been possible...Thanks!

Yeah! Go Far Go Fast happens tomorrow. It's going to be a beautiful day to come out and race.  Thanks to everyone who supports Go Far throughout the year. 


Here are some tips for a great race day.

Go Far Go Fast Race Tip #1:Choose Your Pre-Race Food Wisely

Eat a meal at least one hour prior to the start of the race. Choose something high in carbohydrates and lower in fat, fiber, and protein. Stay away from rich, fatty, or high-fiber foods, as they may cause gastrointestinal distress. Bagels, a bowl of cereal are perfect. Less is more on race day.

Go Far Go Fast...Tip #2

Pick Up Your Race Packet Early. No one likes the stress of waiting in a line. Bring a light snack and a blanket so you can relax while waiting for your race to start.

Go Far Go Fast  Tip #3

Dress for success! The general rule to racing is to dress for a temperature that's 15 degrees warmer than it really is. Lay everything out the night before. Perhaps most important is have your good running shoes ready. Stay away from OSiris, Vans, Converse, Toms, Sperry's, Uggs and anything open. Consider, New Balance, Asics, Brooks, Nike, Adidas...shoes with good arch support.

Go Far Go Fast -Tip #4

A pair of new Nike free Runs -$77.95

The price of an entry to Go Far Go Fast-$10.00

The post race ice-cream reward at Dari Serv- $3.00

Seeing a huge smile on your child’s face while crossing the finish line…Priceless!

Go Far…Achieve Anything

Go Far Go Fast race tip # 5

Don't start at the front of the starting line. People tend to trip up there. Start farther back in the pack than you think you need to . If you child doesn't feel like listening to this advice, put it this way...if you start further back, it's way, way more fun to pass people than to be passed.

Go Far Go Fast Tip#6

Bring a cheering section to the race. Bring all of Kansas... Auntie Em, the Scarecrow, Tinman and the lion too.  All of Oz will be there cheering you on. Just tap the heels of your sneakers together, and say there’s no race like Go Far Go Fast and you’ll be through the finish in no time. There will be plenty of Muchkins to cheer you through.

Go Far, Go Fast Tip #7

Run fast! Don’t just race for the participation award, run you heart out and test yourself. It’s good to work hard, it always rewarding.

Go Far Go Fast Tip#8

Be a mentor. A mentor is some one who cares about the other people in the race. If your done racing, cheer every other finisher to the finish line. You would want the same done for you.

Go Far Go Fast Tip #9

Now this one is reaaallllyyy important. Don’t forget to tie your shoes. Double knotting would be smart call.

Go Far Go Fast Tip #10

Racing can be a bit nerve racking, but running Go Far Go Fast is one of those challenges that teach you how to take on life with no regrets. As with any challenge, do it with a smile. Remember to have fun, congratulate your fellow racers and thank the people who made it all possible.

Before George Eastman revolutionized the world with the creation of celluloid film back in 1889, a box that would eventually become the camera was introduced in France. Between 1826 and 1836 the camera that we now envision from classic movies was tried and tested by numerous pioneers. The camera was invented and my world would never be the same. When my son’s class would celebrate 1830’s day, in the back of my mind I had a vision of children classically dressed with simple props. Celebrating an invention that came to life in the 1830’s seems like a perfect marriage of art and history for the children to be part of.  Together, Peter’s teacher and I started to think about where we will go with these nostalgia-based photos. So for now, history can easily be found here. I relish in the simple purity of each of these images. As I drove my son to school for the special day, I turned to him with a bittersweet smile knowing that this may be one of the last times in his school days where innocence will be so prevalent.

 A project lay ahead for the fall that I hope we'll be able to tie together these images with those of senior citizens from our community.  The children will learn of the importance of the oral histories of the people that one looked like the kids in these photos. For anyone with interest in helping with this project, please contact me. We’ll be looking for 25 local seniors to be matched up with children that are willing to be photographed (by me) and interviewed (by the children). 

He realizes that Energy=Mass times something that starts with a C. He doesn’t really get what the squared thingy means. My child left the house this morning as Albert Einstein. He clearly has his impish humor. Einstein once said, "Do not worry about your difficulties in mathematics, I can assure you that mine are all greater". Like Einstein, he also struggles in math and accepts it. The fact that my child chose arguably the smartest man in the history to research, is proof to me that he believes in the power of the human mind. Someday he may travel the speed of light, he practically does already. Despite the chaos that reigns in his head on a regular basis, he will somehow prove his own theories because he has the confidence to do so. My mother’s intuition is pretty sure of it. It may not be mathematical, but it will be something that has an effect on the people around him.  So like Einstein, he decided to kick off his socks just as the great mentor often did while he thought and calculated. I know of this because I found them rolled up in  ball on the floor next to the computer. I wish him Einstein’s perseverance to never underestimate his own abilities. 

In the early morning hours on Sunday, the kids crawled into the mini campsite I created for them in my Subaru.  Knowing the world of Iron distance races too well, we’ve become well equipped in the art of spectating.  To the athlete, the task of the race lugger is nearly as important as not forgetting you bike shoes and helmet. No triathlete does the race alone. Whether in spirit or body, the immediate kin of the athlete has many important jobs. It all starts early, well before sunrise. In dimlit rooms near the racesite, 2000 athletes engage in their pre-race ritual of consuming bagels, Gatorade and other magic potions. Often in darkness, you hand your athlete his westsuit and give your best, “Go get em tiger” look. The parting of the luggers and their athletes is reminiscent of the parting of the sea. Swimcaps go to one side and camera bearing fans to the other.  In the predawn shadows, you give him the thumbs up as he walks towards a sea of 2000 orange caps. Like a colony of seals, they all blend in together. Soon they crash into the frigid water thrashing for a piece of real estate.  Weather it be a mass or a wave start, the start of any triathlon never disappoints. As they swim into the horizon, it’s just the beginning of the long wait. You begin to calculate. An Ironman is long, 2.4 miles of swimming, a 112 mile bike followed by 26.2 miles of running. Yep, it going to be a mighty long day. Even a Iron half gives you enough time to mull over the meaning of life. The first leg is over as the sun angles higher in the sky.  The kids; cold, sleepy eyed and hungry begin to stir more. For them, the initial excitement of the swim start is long over and the rest of the day will be a time passing concoction of sugary treats, picking dandelions, running amuck,  heckling each other and resting on curbs. I watch the back of each leg for the number that states the athlete’s age, hoping to get clue to where my husband stands in his race. “Damn compression socks”, I think to myself as I watch covered and muscled calves run by.  Who knows where he stands? The game is trying. But In the distance, I see his gait. It’s one of the few times I’ll see him during his journey. I rouse my biggest cheer and click the shutter in high-speed mode. He smiles and you know you time has been well spent. He then vanishes around the bend. The athlete continually fights the demons in his head throughout the day and hopefully your two-second connection has been enough to keep him fighting.  At days end, no one has been spared from exhaustion, but the wave of enthusiasm masks it. The Iphone battery is long dead and the race is history. The kids, now sticky, punchy and just coming into their third or forth wind, hand their dad water and appreciate his shiny new medal. Their hero, their dad raced as fast today as many pros do. Once again he has proven that hard work pays off. 

The happenings on a school bus have a way of getting to the core of why middle school has the reputation for being cruel.  It doesn’t matter what generation you’re from, whether you’re from a good neighborhood or a rough one, the bus ride can make or break a kid. The kid on the losing end usually doesn’t say much about it. Good thing he talks to his sister. So when she told me there was some tripping and some insults thrown at her kid brother, I sat and listened. I would try to remember how I dealt with this scenario when I was a kid. I was soon realizing that my son and I have shared some similar experiences. To this day, I still remember “Dogface”, the girl who with the help of her super evil twin made 6th grade miserable. God only knows why they knew hatred so well. Pete seems to have met Dogface’s kids, Cain and Abel. You wonder what stirs such animosity in children? Since Peter doesn’t know these kids at all, my guess was that they see him running and riding to school and just view him as different (oh the shame). At the same age, I had begun rowing, something no one in my middle school even knew existed. Anyone with half a pea-brain was positive that I was without a doubt, a freak. Even if I was a freak, I didn’t care. Most of the people I would train with at the boathouse were 20 years older than me. They were my protectors and confidantes. In my pigtails they saw potential, as I would hoist my boat into the Long Island Sound. They inspired me every day and took me under their wings. As I grew up, Dogface became just a lurking shadow that could never catch me. Tonight, we traveled to a triathlon that Peter has called his home since he was a baby. Now he races and has graduated from pushing sand on the beach to pushing gears on his bicycle. The bulk of the athletes that surround him are more than 20 years older than him. They protect him, cheer him on, and make him feel like there is no other place in the world he’d rather be. And while the Dogface’s of the world wait to prey on him, he has already left them in the dust, and they don’t even realize it. The smile he wears proves it. 

I was a bit off my own game tonight and got more blurry shots than I would like to admit to. One of those included a photo of Bill Honeck, the race organizer. He is a great mentor to Pete and friend to so many. Thanks for years of fun at the races and for making this sport a great place to grow up.