Salon- “gathering of people under the roof of an inspiring host, held partly to amuse one another and partly to refine the taste and increase the knowledge of the participants through conversation.”

Last night introduced a touch of refinement around the edges at the Bar None.  Genteel intercourse about the state of running in Nebraska, and where NRGE fits in.  Or out. The pack pedigreed, this alpha more a mongrel.  El Jefe, riding less roughshod, steering onward and upward.  Steaming pot of leek/potatoe/carrot soup and great chunks of fresh bread.  Thanks to everyone for the beers from around the world and appetizer plates.  Those gathered all agreed, next year will be a doozy.

We also entertained on Monday evening.  Guests, including a star athlete,  for dinner, my world famous meatloaf, chock full of hidden micro-diced vegetables, mashed potatoes and fresh roasted beets.   Evening’s theme the importance of proper nutrition and high level training.  You can run on cheeseburgers but you will doubtlessly run much better on a variety of fresh, non processed foods.  Does it have a bar code on it?  Skip it.

And we were entertained on Tuesday evening.  I heard from an old friend/adversary recently.  Kray Zeller and I go back several years.   Had our share of “disagreements” back in the day.  He as or even more fiery than yours truly.  Both of us ready to whup the world, and each other, for our causes.  Fast forward five or more years and Kray is guest at my dinner table, burgers, candied carrots, again with the roasted beets.  Drawn together now through a random act of kindness.  He shared with us many interesting tales of his youth and life of running.  I sat listening for over two hours, understanding some through our shared experiences, in awe of so much more.  Few could walk a mile in his shoes.

This week’s free exchange of knowledge and humor will conclude with tonight’s more formal business, something about long distance racing next fall.


Salon Bar None.  Where the elite meet to eat meats and beets and discuss the sweet beats of our feets out on the streets.