The Man Who Wouldn’t Let Me Quit (And What He’s Running for Now)

My friend Larry Grogin was diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease 7 years ago.

Right now – today – he’s in the middle of running 100 marathons in 100 consecutive days across the United States to raise money – and awareness – for Parkinson’s research through Strides for Humanity

I’m not going to bury the lede: that’s insane. It’s also completely consistent with who Larry is.

Before I tell you any more – go donate to his campaign, — and if you – or anyone who know has Parkinson’s, listen to his story and his commitment to movement as a response to the disease.

And if you decide to take on his cause or his invitation to the movement – whether you have Parkinson’s or not feel free to download the running-pace mp3s as a gift … or a thank you. 

And now let me tell you more about Larry – about the kind of man he is and what a huge impact he’s had on my life.

Years ago, at a harp festival, I plopped down next to an intense-looking man in the lobby. I’d seen him in my class, and to be honest – he scared me – so instead of giving in to that fear, I decided to address it. He claimed he played the harp – he was carrying one around – and he said he knew of me. “You must be very proud of your career as a harpist” he said.

And I said — surprised at my own candor — “No. Not really.”

And then I told him the truth. That my whole life, my single passion has been writing musical theater. That when I was 19, sitting at a piano in Northern California, I’d begun writing a musical about whether life should be a search for freedom or a search for security, a story about a Golden Cage, a flying creature who longed for the safety inside it and grumpy diva trapped inside who longed for freedom.

I told him that in order to write this story, I’d gone back to school to learn music theory, where I accidentally starting playing harp, built an international performing career and unintentionally reinvented the harp. And that the more successful that career became, the further I got from finishing the thing I’d started in the first place – and it was starting to break my heart.

I told him that every time someone said, “I love your harp playing,” my heart said, but what I REALLY do is write musical theater.

Larry listened to all of this. Then he said: “Would you be happy if “The Golden Cage” was on Broadway, winning awards?”

And I said: “I would be happy if I were working on it 30 minutes a day. If I were actually living the commitment I claim I have.”

He said: “Okay. You text me your 30 minutes every day by midnight.”

And so I did. I texted him reports each night and sometimes images.

But one night, a month or two after we met, I got a late start and at 11:55 pm, a text popped up on my phone:

“If you do not send me your 30 minutes by midnight, you will burn in hell.”

I burst out laughing. And then I realized: this man has more commitment to my dream than I do.

At that moment, I experienced that he was pushing me up this hill, pushing me off this cliff that I had tried so hard to leap from all my life – and I suddenly knew that this is what each of the characters were begging each other for. “Push me!” became the words that each character cried as they stood on the threshold of massive change in their lives, “Push me! Take me to the edge and show me that I can fly.”

In so many ways, my experience of this man fulfilled the “missing” that let me complete this story I lived my life to tell. Without Larry’s intervention, I would still be heartbroken at the story I hadn’t finished.

I didn’t see how I could ever even begin to do for him what he’s done for me. Look at what he’s doing!

But a few weeks ago something changed in my life. I started taking harp lessons again – and I started having to listen to my own playing – one of my least favorite things to do.  But I hatched a scheme to record my playing and then listen while running, which I do almost every day. That meant I had to figure out my basic running tempo, or BPM (beats per minute).

I figured at the very least this would help me develop what’s called “cadence running”: focusing on a steady beat to regulate your pace. I started running to these rough tracks and discovered that 15-minute rhythm loops at a specific beats-per-minute changed my running. I got more even, more focused. And I discovered that certain rhythms – like the montuna – created a kind of lift for me as I ran.

I knew I should share these with Larry but I was embarrassed  – because they’re the opposite of perfectly crafted studio recordings – they’re literally me finding a 15-minute rhythm loop, playing it on my laptop, sticking my iphone next to my amp and improvising to the beat.

But as Larry hit his 75th day of back-to-back Marathons, I realized how incredibly selfish I was being. If these improvs support my pacing, maybe they would support his.

So I made my first “Larry Pace-Track” the night before I left L.A. To get in the mood, I put on my running clothes, and chose my current favorite tune to improv to: “Byador” from my album “Essential DHC – Instrumentals” … only this time …. A 15 minute one-take improv.  When I got back home I made him another – a 16-minute improv in 5/4 – one of my favorite rhythms to run to. 

This is music with a job to do: to keep someone company, support their pace, help their feet carry them towards the thing that matters most to them.

Just like Larry did for me.

(Below) Me playing at Larry’s send-off for his previous 2019 100-Marathon project.