I am blessed in so many ways. Sadly I fear that I don’t always appreciate that fact. “Life” happens and with the rush of the day it’s far too easy to hang on to the stressful moments and only glimpse at the ones you should really focus on. I have been reminded of others generosity lately and in fact have been touched deeply by it.
Two days ago I had out-patient surgery. However for some time prior I’d been dealing with pain and discomfort in my man area. Yes, the scrotum. I had some sort of growth in there for a few years but over the past 6-8 months it decided that size mattered and went to work. Its mission - to get as large as possible. Humor is my weapon and I joked about it being an alien, or a watermelon. I was however a bit freaked out and knew I needed to have it looked at. I couldn’t. Why? Because I’m 52. My dad passed away in the hospital at 52 and there was no way I would be admitted to the hospital at that age. Stupid? Silly? Maybe but that was the deal.
Suddenly everything seems to point me to the doctor. I’d feel like I’d been hit in the groin 80% of the time. Trying to make it through spin class while sitting on the alien hurt. I’d try and push it to the side but eventually there wasn’t any room to move it. Running caused discomfort. Walking no better. My best friend noticed and basically said get to the doctor. She was more colorful that than…
Saw the doctor who poked me in places I’d rather not think about which resulted in an appointment for an ultrasound to determine the makeup of the alien. Two days later I was at the hospital waiting for my name to be called. My tech calls me, oh great it’s a woman. Just what I hoped for…not! Next thing I know my “goods” are laying out in the open air as she’s squirting hot gel on her tools of the trade. I won’t share the details of the next 30-45 minutes except to say that she was chatty and I was most uncomfortable – how does one carry on a conversation when his…well, you get the picture.
The results of the ultrasound showed not a tumor but a hydrocele. Basically fluid buildup that was expanding because there was nowhere for it to go. The solution was surgery. At this point in time I had alerted those at work, family and friends. I will say that the people I work with at Quadrant Homes are the best. They were truly concerned and cared about me, not that fact that I would miss work, but about how I was doing. You only find people like that in an organization bred in character. I am grateful to work for a company like that. Family and friends emailed, called, and texted to show their support. My oldest called me three balls. How cute :).
My surgery was in the afternoon and Sharon called and offered to take me to her PT that morning to help take my mind off the surgery. Watching her and others go through PT and chatting with the therapists was good medicine. We finished up and she drove me to the hospital. All along I was receiving messages. Steve was praying for me and others gave shout outs for best wishes. Funny how things like that give you a peaceful confidence. My nerves calmed and I soon met Joy, my nurse. She was a little kooky but what the heck – I wondered about her when she tried to write with the wrong end of the pen, then told me she would take good care of me….Soon I was rolled to the third floor where I met the team who would fix me. I recall hearing that I was getting happy juice and after a couple breaths in the mask they slid over my mouth I was out. In what seemed like minutes I woke up and it was done. Over. I survived.
Once I was aware enough to grab my phone I had well over 20 messages and texts from family and friends. How great that felt. In the middle of their busy lives they knew what I was going through and took the time to check in. Sharon came to pick me up but the hospital wouldn’t let me go until I peed. Apparently that’s an important function. I didn’t have to go. Tea was ordered by Sharon to help move things along. By the time I had two glasses of water, a glass of cranberry juice, and two glasses of tea, I made my way to the bathroom. Success. Heck, the nurses in the hallway heard me going. It was time to go!
I arrived home and was tucked in, safe and sound. The next day I slept a lot. I was floating in and out of awareness. Now the same day I was having my minor surgery my neighbor Angie was having a mastectomy. Turns out after a routine mammogram cancer was found. Angie and her husband Mitch are great people with two lovely kids. Her surgery was a success and Tuesday we’ll know if they got it all. I pray they did. Even with all that going on in their lives, they touched mine. I woke up yesterday to a note on my fridge (picture posted to the left) and plenty of food. Wow. Sharon has been by to check on me at all hours and calls from family and friends continue. I hope I never take any of you for granted and I’ll be there, for each and every one of you when you need me, maybe even if you think you don’t.
Saw the doctor yesterday and he removed the drain. Ever watch someone pull out a nearly 4 inch long piece of plastic from your scrotum? It was like watching a sword swallower pull his sword out. Ouch is all I can say. He plugged the hole and taped me up. His orders are no sex for a month (really, like that was happening before?) and no exercise for the same time period. Lift nothing over 10 pounds. Weight gain here I come. I’ll be a little sloppy for awhile and will miss out on my annual polar bear dive and 5K. I’m glad I had the surgery. Next time you see me I’ll be a little slimmer below the belt and a bit chunkier above….a pretty good trade off I think.
Saturday, December 10, 2011
Sunday, November 6, 2011
Jog....don't walk
Jog…don’t walk. I know, silly title. Maybe not when you consider that my blog Domain is Run…don’t jog. After all, I fancy myself a runner. On a good day with the wind at my back I can nearly always beat those who are behind me. Today however I am looking forward to jogging – another phase in my return to the flashy world of running.
You see a couple weeks ago my lovely back decided to go out on me. It happens from time to time and usually the result of doing something at an angle that was once fine but now is not the least bit appropriate. Hindsight is always there but never comes early enough for me. I wish it was something heroic like chasing down a purse snatcher or foiling a robbery that caused it to rebel. This time it was just a bit of thatching.
Sunday thatching turned into a situation where I stood up at my desk Monday morning around 9:30 and my back said hello. It was more of an “It’s time to kick your ass” than a hello….Anyway I was unable to walk and I sat there wondering if my office floor would be my home for the next couple of days. Wendy came by and brought me ice – sweet wonderful ice. I packed it down the back of my pants and sat until frostbite neared. I slowly stood and shuffled my way to the car. Slid in and drove home.
I got home, stepped into the laundry room and went down, straight to the floor. You see when my back goes out I get spasms in the lower left side. They feel like a knife is jammed in and twisted. The upside is that each spasm only lasts for about 5 seconds. The downside is that I simply cannot stand up, it’s like my leg muscles have been removed, they just don’t work. Having had this happen before I know that I need to elevate my legs to take pressure off my lower back. So I crawled to the family room and slowly flipped on my back and put my legs on the sofa – sorta of like I was sitting on a chair except I’m laying down.
For the next three hours I averaged a spasm a minute like my back was having contractions but there would be no baby to end this, just time. As luck would have it all the coffee I drank in the morning was now ready for removal. Much like a soldier crawling on his belly under the barbwire, I made my way to the bathroom. I had to spit on my palms so I could better grip the hardwood floor and push forward. As gross as it was, I had to use the bowl as a handgrip then the tank, finally resting my head against the wall while holding me up as my body couldn’t hold its own weight. I will leave the details out as to how I actually then peed but the ordeal lasted more than 20 minutes and it would be repeated again and again before help arrived.
Help arrived. I was so happy yet embarrassed by my situation. I was however without food, water, and my cell phone battery was slipping away. Sharon fixed all that. Soon there was bottled water, Cliff bars (which she even opened for me), cookies, and my cell phone charger all within reach. I might have borrowed a couple muscle relaxers however since I may run for President someday I will not make a definitive statement. Sharon did visit my upstairs medicine cabinet where I had some pain pills – granted they weren’t mind and were expired. So much for running for President. Before she left Sharon brought me another necessity - two water bottles for which I would pee in and never again have to endure the journey to the bathroom.
For the next 48 hours my world was that spot on the floor. Pills aided my sleep and helped to deaden the spasms which became less frequent. Help continued to come, to check on me, to restock. I was groggy for much of it but I recall Sharon and Savannah walking in and hearing Savannah saying “Let’s clean this place out, he can’t do anything about it anyway”. Too funny. My “water bottles” were emptied and I was so grateful for the help. By Thursday I was able to stand and that evening walk a bit.
Walking is what I am doing now. Running has been out of the question due to the stiffness of my back. Walking helps and I’ve been enjoying the trails in the neighborhood. I’ve missed my running buddies but will see them soon. I plan on jogging the trail with them this weekend. Nothing fast, nothing impressive. To me though it will be glorious. It might even call for a new pair of running socks. I feel very lucky to have the kind of people around me that I do. Those I work with were so kind and genuinely concerned. Others sent text messages offering help and kept checking in on me. And not just anyone would empty a guys pee…
You see a couple weeks ago my lovely back decided to go out on me. It happens from time to time and usually the result of doing something at an angle that was once fine but now is not the least bit appropriate. Hindsight is always there but never comes early enough for me. I wish it was something heroic like chasing down a purse snatcher or foiling a robbery that caused it to rebel. This time it was just a bit of thatching.
Sunday thatching turned into a situation where I stood up at my desk Monday morning around 9:30 and my back said hello. It was more of an “It’s time to kick your ass” than a hello….Anyway I was unable to walk and I sat there wondering if my office floor would be my home for the next couple of days. Wendy came by and brought me ice – sweet wonderful ice. I packed it down the back of my pants and sat until frostbite neared. I slowly stood and shuffled my way to the car. Slid in and drove home.
I got home, stepped into the laundry room and went down, straight to the floor. You see when my back goes out I get spasms in the lower left side. They feel like a knife is jammed in and twisted. The upside is that each spasm only lasts for about 5 seconds. The downside is that I simply cannot stand up, it’s like my leg muscles have been removed, they just don’t work. Having had this happen before I know that I need to elevate my legs to take pressure off my lower back. So I crawled to the family room and slowly flipped on my back and put my legs on the sofa – sorta of like I was sitting on a chair except I’m laying down.
For the next three hours I averaged a spasm a minute like my back was having contractions but there would be no baby to end this, just time. As luck would have it all the coffee I drank in the morning was now ready for removal. Much like a soldier crawling on his belly under the barbwire, I made my way to the bathroom. I had to spit on my palms so I could better grip the hardwood floor and push forward. As gross as it was, I had to use the bowl as a handgrip then the tank, finally resting my head against the wall while holding me up as my body couldn’t hold its own weight. I will leave the details out as to how I actually then peed but the ordeal lasted more than 20 minutes and it would be repeated again and again before help arrived.
Help arrived. I was so happy yet embarrassed by my situation. I was however without food, water, and my cell phone battery was slipping away. Sharon fixed all that. Soon there was bottled water, Cliff bars (which she even opened for me), cookies, and my cell phone charger all within reach. I might have borrowed a couple muscle relaxers however since I may run for President someday I will not make a definitive statement. Sharon did visit my upstairs medicine cabinet where I had some pain pills – granted they weren’t mind and were expired. So much for running for President. Before she left Sharon brought me another necessity - two water bottles for which I would pee in and never again have to endure the journey to the bathroom.
For the next 48 hours my world was that spot on the floor. Pills aided my sleep and helped to deaden the spasms which became less frequent. Help continued to come, to check on me, to restock. I was groggy for much of it but I recall Sharon and Savannah walking in and hearing Savannah saying “Let’s clean this place out, he can’t do anything about it anyway”. Too funny. My “water bottles” were emptied and I was so grateful for the help. By Thursday I was able to stand and that evening walk a bit.
Walking is what I am doing now. Running has been out of the question due to the stiffness of my back. Walking helps and I’ve been enjoying the trails in the neighborhood. I’ve missed my running buddies but will see them soon. I plan on jogging the trail with them this weekend. Nothing fast, nothing impressive. To me though it will be glorious. It might even call for a new pair of running socks. I feel very lucky to have the kind of people around me that I do. Those I work with were so kind and genuinely concerned. Others sent text messages offering help and kept checking in on me. And not just anyone would empty a guys pee…
Saturday, October 15, 2011
Rollercoaster
It slows to a stop in front of you. You carefully step in, pull down the safety bar and sit back with nervous excitement. Your breathing which you hadn’t noticed before now draws your attention. Your chest starts to echo with the increasing thump of a drum beat that started in the distance and now moves towards you at a pace you cannot control. Each breath you take seems to call the beat closer, stronger. Your brain says “get out” but your body doesn’t budge. The coaster begins to move, slowly at first as if to say that everything is going to be alright. You feel alone even though you’re surrounded by people. You look for an encouraging smile but it’s not there. Everyone is in their own world. The coaster is moving up the steep incline now, laboring hard is if it might not make it. All you hear is the sound of the chain as it pulls the machine upward…clink clink clink clink …As the coaster reaches the pinnacle, you slowly close your eyes, take a deep breath, grab the bar and hold on.
The Portland Half Marathon felt like that. Not just the race, but the entire trip - from the moment I left to the day I came back. To be clear, it was a great race for me. I ran well, lived (always a plus for any race), and recorded my fastest half. The trip however reminded me just how much life has changed. I got to spend time with my son Taylor and realized that he’s moving into adulthood without me. Sure we talk on the phone when I can somehow get more than three words out of him but seeing him was different. Somehow I began to feel that he doesn’t need me. That’s stupid of course because I have so much more to teach him. Granted he’s well beyond learning critical things like armpit farts - a staple for every kid and something I find necessary to teach everyone under the age of five. He is becoming his own man and while I’m proud of him, I wasn’t ready for his level of independence.
My sister Andrea who I haven’t seen in years came to Portland to surprise mom. Laughing with her took me back to being kids. We visited and were as silly as ever. I’m so glad she came. I hadn’t seen mom since she started dialysis. She’s had a rough time with it, enduring too many surgeries but at the same time maintaining her outlook and determination to work the whole thing into her daily schedule. I sat there looking at her and Stan and wondered if I was in the same position would I show the same strength or piss and moan. Yeah, probably the latter unfortunately. Is it me or do older people get a little weird? My stepfather Stan who stands around 6’6 keeps a yardstick behind the bathroom door. Why? So if he runs out of toilet paper he can grab the stick and knock a fresh role down from the top shelf. He doesn’t want to stand up at that point apparently. I thought about replacing the yard stick with a ruler without telling him – sort of a surprise. I didn’t.
The rest of the Seattle gang arrived Saturday. The ride down had been entertaining and I admit once we got together I felt a little on the outside. Nothing they did and likely a carryover from the previous day’s experiences. We hit the Expo and went to dinner. Eventually landing at the hotel and room arrangements were made to the satisfaction of most. Evening plans passed through a blender and I was in bed by 8:30. We were to depart at 5:45am to walk to the start line which was a 25 minute walk or so, with the race starting at 7:00. Some overslept and needed to leave later. I couldn’t, I had to go. I told myself it was because I’d been up since 4:00 and had done everything I could to get my pre-race poop moving but had no luck. Figuring the walk would produce the desired results I left the hotel at 5:50. It was likely that it was my inflexibility that required me to leave but blaming it on poop seems a good attempt at redirection. By the way, the walk didn’t help. I ran ‘heavy’. I was then cursed with 24 hours of stomach cramps that came and went on their own schedule.
Most were running the marathon and a few of us the half. We were in different starting corrals which made it impossible at that point to hang together and wish each other luck. We all had someone but we didn’t have each other. Hollywood was with me, preparing to run her first half. She ran with me for about 4 miles and then settled into her own pace. I had set my mind on a pace that would deliver a PR (personal record). Soon it became the only thing in my head. I saw runners but paid no mind to them. The sea of spectators were faceless bodies waiting to cheer on their runner. I was ahead of pace by mile 9. I began to feel like crap. I knew I was pushing myself and had not hit a pace like this before. The next 4 miles are hard to describe. If I slowed I would miss my goal and honestly the effort in the first 9 miles would have been a waste. I wandered in and out of clarity and my pace reflected it, I was all over the board. Mile 13 was the longest mile I can remember. I swear my iPod played 5 songs yet I ran it in slightly over 8 minutes. Rounded a corner and saw the signs that registered in my mind, only 3 blocks to go. I saw the time clock as I crossed and officially had hit my mark. I now stood trying to catch my breath and ready to celebrate. Where were my friends? I hadn’t thought about it but with those doing the marathon and me being the fastest ‘halfer’, I would finish before everyone else. I gave myself mental high five and was feeling a little cocky until the first wave of stomach cramps arrived to remind me I was human.
I hung out in the recovery area which was near the finish line waiting for friendly faces. Soon they began to roll in and make their way to the recovery fuel. I was impressed with our group of runners. Everyone finished and for many it was their first attempt at the distance they ran. Some crossed the finish line in better shape than others. I always feel like I will puke and wonder if so much life oozed out of me in the final miles that I may not fully recover. Sharon needed help, having run the marathon under conditions that most of us would have quit, grabbed a cab and hit the hotel for a shower, her struggle at the finish line was hard to see. She has never quit and this time was no exception. I was proud of her. I will omit the scene when a medical attendant put her arm around Sharon to see if she needed help and all that was left of her was a small mushroom cloud. Clearly she didn’t know that what Sharon needs at that moment is space not touching. Then again, how would she? Dan and I helped her through the maze of people and eventually we hobbled back to the hotel. Most jumped in cars and headed back to Seattle. The Giant (Kyle) rode home with me. The Giant is 22 and stands tall….very tall. He quickly fell asleep and woke a couple hours later. He was beat, having run his first marathon. I listened to him talking to his parents and friends about his achievement. His excitement was so pure, so honest that I couldn’t help but have a smile on my face.
I had a hard weekend emotionally and physically. At times I wanted to be alone. Other times I needed a ray of sunshine. I was hard to read and didn’t always care what anyone thought. I do care. I’m done racing for the year. I will focus on healing until 2012. God willing I will run a lot next year and since I have reason to believe that God is a runner, I’m sure the big guy will help me out. In fact I’m sure He already has in ways I don’t even know cause that’s how he rolls. Life moves forward. Kids get older. Parents sadly do as well. Life happens. Embrace it all and settle only for what you deserve, not the plate others may have set for you. Be better to others and give without expectation - I know those who do this and admire each and every one of them. I wish I had some strong wise statement to make to close this bog but I don’t. I will simply say this – Thank you.
The Portland Half Marathon felt like that. Not just the race, but the entire trip - from the moment I left to the day I came back. To be clear, it was a great race for me. I ran well, lived (always a plus for any race), and recorded my fastest half. The trip however reminded me just how much life has changed. I got to spend time with my son Taylor and realized that he’s moving into adulthood without me. Sure we talk on the phone when I can somehow get more than three words out of him but seeing him was different. Somehow I began to feel that he doesn’t need me. That’s stupid of course because I have so much more to teach him. Granted he’s well beyond learning critical things like armpit farts - a staple for every kid and something I find necessary to teach everyone under the age of five. He is becoming his own man and while I’m proud of him, I wasn’t ready for his level of independence.
My sister Andrea who I haven’t seen in years came to Portland to surprise mom. Laughing with her took me back to being kids. We visited and were as silly as ever. I’m so glad she came. I hadn’t seen mom since she started dialysis. She’s had a rough time with it, enduring too many surgeries but at the same time maintaining her outlook and determination to work the whole thing into her daily schedule. I sat there looking at her and Stan and wondered if I was in the same position would I show the same strength or piss and moan. Yeah, probably the latter unfortunately. Is it me or do older people get a little weird? My stepfather Stan who stands around 6’6 keeps a yardstick behind the bathroom door. Why? So if he runs out of toilet paper he can grab the stick and knock a fresh role down from the top shelf. He doesn’t want to stand up at that point apparently. I thought about replacing the yard stick with a ruler without telling him – sort of a surprise. I didn’t.
The rest of the Seattle gang arrived Saturday. The ride down had been entertaining and I admit once we got together I felt a little on the outside. Nothing they did and likely a carryover from the previous day’s experiences. We hit the Expo and went to dinner. Eventually landing at the hotel and room arrangements were made to the satisfaction of most. Evening plans passed through a blender and I was in bed by 8:30. We were to depart at 5:45am to walk to the start line which was a 25 minute walk or so, with the race starting at 7:00. Some overslept and needed to leave later. I couldn’t, I had to go. I told myself it was because I’d been up since 4:00 and had done everything I could to get my pre-race poop moving but had no luck. Figuring the walk would produce the desired results I left the hotel at 5:50. It was likely that it was my inflexibility that required me to leave but blaming it on poop seems a good attempt at redirection. By the way, the walk didn’t help. I ran ‘heavy’. I was then cursed with 24 hours of stomach cramps that came and went on their own schedule.
Most were running the marathon and a few of us the half. We were in different starting corrals which made it impossible at that point to hang together and wish each other luck. We all had someone but we didn’t have each other. Hollywood was with me, preparing to run her first half. She ran with me for about 4 miles and then settled into her own pace. I had set my mind on a pace that would deliver a PR (personal record). Soon it became the only thing in my head. I saw runners but paid no mind to them. The sea of spectators were faceless bodies waiting to cheer on their runner. I was ahead of pace by mile 9. I began to feel like crap. I knew I was pushing myself and had not hit a pace like this before. The next 4 miles are hard to describe. If I slowed I would miss my goal and honestly the effort in the first 9 miles would have been a waste. I wandered in and out of clarity and my pace reflected it, I was all over the board. Mile 13 was the longest mile I can remember. I swear my iPod played 5 songs yet I ran it in slightly over 8 minutes. Rounded a corner and saw the signs that registered in my mind, only 3 blocks to go. I saw the time clock as I crossed and officially had hit my mark. I now stood trying to catch my breath and ready to celebrate. Where were my friends? I hadn’t thought about it but with those doing the marathon and me being the fastest ‘halfer’, I would finish before everyone else. I gave myself mental high five and was feeling a little cocky until the first wave of stomach cramps arrived to remind me I was human.
I hung out in the recovery area which was near the finish line waiting for friendly faces. Soon they began to roll in and make their way to the recovery fuel. I was impressed with our group of runners. Everyone finished and for many it was their first attempt at the distance they ran. Some crossed the finish line in better shape than others. I always feel like I will puke and wonder if so much life oozed out of me in the final miles that I may not fully recover. Sharon needed help, having run the marathon under conditions that most of us would have quit, grabbed a cab and hit the hotel for a shower, her struggle at the finish line was hard to see. She has never quit and this time was no exception. I was proud of her. I will omit the scene when a medical attendant put her arm around Sharon to see if she needed help and all that was left of her was a small mushroom cloud. Clearly she didn’t know that what Sharon needs at that moment is space not touching. Then again, how would she? Dan and I helped her through the maze of people and eventually we hobbled back to the hotel. Most jumped in cars and headed back to Seattle. The Giant (Kyle) rode home with me. The Giant is 22 and stands tall….very tall. He quickly fell asleep and woke a couple hours later. He was beat, having run his first marathon. I listened to him talking to his parents and friends about his achievement. His excitement was so pure, so honest that I couldn’t help but have a smile on my face.
I had a hard weekend emotionally and physically. At times I wanted to be alone. Other times I needed a ray of sunshine. I was hard to read and didn’t always care what anyone thought. I do care. I’m done racing for the year. I will focus on healing until 2012. God willing I will run a lot next year and since I have reason to believe that God is a runner, I’m sure the big guy will help me out. In fact I’m sure He already has in ways I don’t even know cause that’s how he rolls. Life moves forward. Kids get older. Parents sadly do as well. Life happens. Embrace it all and settle only for what you deserve, not the plate others may have set for you. Be better to others and give without expectation - I know those who do this and admire each and every one of them. I wish I had some strong wise statement to make to close this bog but I don’t. I will simply say this – Thank you.
Thursday, September 15, 2011
It isn’t half of anything….
Last Sunday I ran a “half” marathon. It’s easy for one to hear half marathon and discount the effort because it’s not the full blown ass kicking marathon. Truth is it’s not. The distance is half - but the effort will never be. Similar, some think a 5K is easy. Really? From the sound of the gun you push yourself quickly into the pain zone and those 3.1 miles are hard….they hurt….they test you. My point is simple, shorter does not mean easier. It simply means different. Whew, feels good to get that off my chest.
I should also say that I have respect for every distance and those who compete in them. I saw friends finish the marathon Sunday. Gus who I just met had a remarkable race and an incredible time. Rochelle was the first woman to cross the finish line! Dan with calves that cramped up at mile 25 never stopped moving forward. I believe he was at 3:05 or so at mile 25 and finished around 3:30. Loose math says 25 minutes for 1.1 miles. I can’t imagine 50 feet with cramping calves much less a mile plus. Inspired? Yeah, I think so.
We had a gaggle of half marathoners. Sharon was there to pace Christy. Sue signed up the day before and joined us, running with Jen. Jen who has such a special routine for this race that she wouldn’t carpool with us! She parks in the same stall every year! Freaky yes but we all have “those things” that we do come race day. And then there was Monica who in every photo looked like she was happy to be there! And we can never forget those that came to support. We saw Albert whom we’ve missed, Jim came out (I must note that he was looking dapper - blue shirt and shades), and Ken, who drove up all the way from Redmond – wow! Thank you guys!
My plan was to follow the plan. Sharon has long preached running the first half slower than the second, increasing speed at the halfway point and slicing down (meaning running faster every mile even though you have run further and are beginning to feel life ooze from your pores). I know, I remember thinking the same thing – she is one step away from a straight jacket! Crazy or not the deal is it works. I arrived thinking I’d pace out around 9:20 due to limited distance training, swollen glands in my neck, a bit of fatigue, and oh yes, seems I can be a pussy sometimes. I was feeling pretty good and finished the first half averaging 8:51. My mind quickly went to my PR and as I ran I was working the math and by mile 8 I had determined that it was possible to PR. Crap, so much for taking it easy, I now had time to make up if I was to hit my new goal.
I was doing fairly well but tiring. It was a flat course but honestly flat can punish your legs more than a having a hill. Did I mention the day was warm….and getting warmer. Anyway, I ended up next to a guy around mile 9 who mentioned he was on pace for a 1:56. I told him that would be a PR for me and I’d like to run with him. He gave me a “you bet” and we ran side by side. We had passed mile 11 when he said “you got it, I’ve been averaging an 8:40 pace”. I looked at him and shared that I hadn’t as I ran the first half around 8:51. He said “Then you have to run faster, get going, get out of here”. It was almost like an order. I nodded and took off. I admit those last miles felt like shit but my pace dropped to 8:04 and then 7:56. Coming in I heard the cheers that came at the right moment and pushed forward. No extra speed as there wasn’t any left, just a constant stride to the finish line. Yes, I waited for my new friend to come in and shook his hand as I thanked him for helping me hit my new goal.
Everyone had a good race….we all lived. Sharon took home 3rd in her age group which was funny. Funny because she did this while pacing Christy and running back and forth. Safe to say she ran much further than those who came in ahead of her! I was spent but happy. We all have something that feels out of sorts after a race but after a few days we all seem to get back to normal – with this group (myself included) I won’t even attempt to define what normal is. Fact is we don’t care. It works for us and at the end of the day we justify our crazy world by saying “it’s ok, we’re athletes”. That’s our happy place. Next stop for me is Portland – my hometown and my first 13.1 there. I can’t wait….
I should also say that I have respect for every distance and those who compete in them. I saw friends finish the marathon Sunday. Gus who I just met had a remarkable race and an incredible time. Rochelle was the first woman to cross the finish line! Dan with calves that cramped up at mile 25 never stopped moving forward. I believe he was at 3:05 or so at mile 25 and finished around 3:30. Loose math says 25 minutes for 1.1 miles. I can’t imagine 50 feet with cramping calves much less a mile plus. Inspired? Yeah, I think so.
We had a gaggle of half marathoners. Sharon was there to pace Christy. Sue signed up the day before and joined us, running with Jen. Jen who has such a special routine for this race that she wouldn’t carpool with us! She parks in the same stall every year! Freaky yes but we all have “those things” that we do come race day. And then there was Monica who in every photo looked like she was happy to be there! And we can never forget those that came to support. We saw Albert whom we’ve missed, Jim came out (I must note that he was looking dapper - blue shirt and shades), and Ken, who drove up all the way from Redmond – wow! Thank you guys!
My plan was to follow the plan. Sharon has long preached running the first half slower than the second, increasing speed at the halfway point and slicing down (meaning running faster every mile even though you have run further and are beginning to feel life ooze from your pores). I know, I remember thinking the same thing – she is one step away from a straight jacket! Crazy or not the deal is it works. I arrived thinking I’d pace out around 9:20 due to limited distance training, swollen glands in my neck, a bit of fatigue, and oh yes, seems I can be a pussy sometimes. I was feeling pretty good and finished the first half averaging 8:51. My mind quickly went to my PR and as I ran I was working the math and by mile 8 I had determined that it was possible to PR. Crap, so much for taking it easy, I now had time to make up if I was to hit my new goal.
I was doing fairly well but tiring. It was a flat course but honestly flat can punish your legs more than a having a hill. Did I mention the day was warm….and getting warmer. Anyway, I ended up next to a guy around mile 9 who mentioned he was on pace for a 1:56. I told him that would be a PR for me and I’d like to run with him. He gave me a “you bet” and we ran side by side. We had passed mile 11 when he said “you got it, I’ve been averaging an 8:40 pace”. I looked at him and shared that I hadn’t as I ran the first half around 8:51. He said “Then you have to run faster, get going, get out of here”. It was almost like an order. I nodded and took off. I admit those last miles felt like shit but my pace dropped to 8:04 and then 7:56. Coming in I heard the cheers that came at the right moment and pushed forward. No extra speed as there wasn’t any left, just a constant stride to the finish line. Yes, I waited for my new friend to come in and shook his hand as I thanked him for helping me hit my new goal.
Everyone had a good race….we all lived. Sharon took home 3rd in her age group which was funny. Funny because she did this while pacing Christy and running back and forth. Safe to say she ran much further than those who came in ahead of her! I was spent but happy. We all have something that feels out of sorts after a race but after a few days we all seem to get back to normal – with this group (myself included) I won’t even attempt to define what normal is. Fact is we don’t care. It works for us and at the end of the day we justify our crazy world by saying “it’s ok, we’re athletes”. That’s our happy place. Next stop for me is Portland – my hometown and my first 13.1 there. I can’t wait….
Sunday, August 21, 2011
Finish Strong
Yesterday the BertolliSport team competed in the Monroe Finish Strong Triathlon. This is the target Tri the team trains for when we start the season. We had lots of participants and friends cheering us on - it was so cool to have so many participating. Those who came to cheer us on did so with gusto - a spirited hoot, holler, "looking good" goes a long way when you're pushing every fiber of your being just to maintain forward movement.
The weather was perfect. As we drove into the valley at the wonderful hour of 5:30am a gentle fog was settling in and the silhouette of the mountains was beautiful. We might have pulled over just to take it in had we not a previous commitment. Nervous chatter settled in - nothing new but it's always interesting. I was feeling quite relaxed knowing that I only had to knock out a 5k - though I was determined to push myself hard. It wasn't until Iain rode off for his bike leg that the butterflies paid a visit - thank you nearby Honey Bucket.
The team quickly went about their business setting up in the transition area, each a little different yet all with the same goal - organization. The better organized the faster your transition will be. Unless of course you get stuck in your wetsuit, have trouble locating your bike, put your shoe on the wrong foot, etc. Sometimes simple things can be overwhelming when you're attempting to do them at the speed of light. I had little to do because once again I opted for the relay and as you may have guessed I signed up for the running leg. Our team consisted of Lani (swim), Iain (bike), and me (run).
Bam - next thing I knew swimmers were in the water and the race was on. I hustled back to the transition area so I could snap photos of the team coming in and support Iain who was ready to go as soon as Lani came in from the swim. Oh my, special thanks to Lani for swimming. I'm not saying that Iain and I could not have managed the swim - well yes, I am actually saying that - without Lani we'd have been sunk, in more ways than one. She kicked the swim and was running through the sand on her way for the hand off. Some of the team had already been in and were out on the bike leg. Their transitions were smooth and calculated....well nearly. Sharon came in and saw that her bike had been moved - let me say that no one is ever supposed to touch a competitors bike - yet someone did. Holy moley when she saw it the "special" words flew faster than bullets from a Gatling gun. I saw a preacher run for his bible believing he had a soul to save. Steve and I dived for cover afraid to speak. Not to be derailed she grabbed her bike whispered a 'sorry' to the volunteers and was off.
Lani reached Iain and the transfer was complete - Iain was off. A man on a mission. He had ridden the course as part of his training and I knew he'd rock it - he's been working hard to increase his speed and to do well today. I had about 45 minutes until my run would begin so I began my prep, putting on my race bib, warming up, mentally getting ready to push myself. This was not going to be fun - I wanted to run hard and finish knowing I gave it my best. Those runs while fantastic at the end are simply painful during. Bikers were coming in and our team was looking strong. They were in and out of transition in a flash and after the 3.1 miles, would be running across the finish line.
I saw Iain a few blocks out, coming in strong with a huge smile on his face. He rolled in and and I was off. The run was uneventful. My first mile was 7:09 and I finished averaging 7:18. A half mile to go and I saw Jamie - another relay team! My focus became easy - catch her, pass her. She was moving at a pretty good clip however. About a quarter mile to go I was a yard behind her. I thought about passing her but decided against it. I was worried that this young runner would have more in the tank than I and would then pass me prior to the finish - couldn't have that. So I set my sights on the upcoming sidewalk, that would be my push. Hitting it I gave what I had left, passing her and going hard to the finish. I managed to keep my lead but could swear I heard her footsteps right behind me. Teammates who had finished and friends were cheering as we came in and honestly, it filled me with such happiness the pain of the run disappeared. I love those guys.
Our relay team "Triple Threat" took first place in the relay category - but only by 2.4 seconds - Paula and Jamie earned the right to stand up with us side by side. Maybe we'll all take our victory glasses and toast a race well ran. During the awards ceremony someone from BetrolliSport seemed to always be walking up for an award - the team really rocked it. That of course is a testament to the program. Training plans, group workouts, motivating each other, and maybe most important of all, cementing friendships and creating new ones that will last well beyond this season were key ingredients. I admit that this year seemed different than last. There was more responsibility on each individual to own their plan, their workouts. This worked well for some and others found it more difficult. All I can say is that the people and the program continue to change me. I saw victories at events as well as in personal lives. Fear was beaten down and lives enriched. The character of these people is never in question and I would stand up for each and every one of them. We were many yet we were one. You are never alone - maybe it's because whenever you need a hand there is always one outstretched just waiting to help. For those who say there's no magic left in the world, come join BetrolliSport....
The weather was perfect. As we drove into the valley at the wonderful hour of 5:30am a gentle fog was settling in and the silhouette of the mountains was beautiful. We might have pulled over just to take it in had we not a previous commitment. Nervous chatter settled in - nothing new but it's always interesting. I was feeling quite relaxed knowing that I only had to knock out a 5k - though I was determined to push myself hard. It wasn't until Iain rode off for his bike leg that the butterflies paid a visit - thank you nearby Honey Bucket.
The team quickly went about their business setting up in the transition area, each a little different yet all with the same goal - organization. The better organized the faster your transition will be. Unless of course you get stuck in your wetsuit, have trouble locating your bike, put your shoe on the wrong foot, etc. Sometimes simple things can be overwhelming when you're attempting to do them at the speed of light. I had little to do because once again I opted for the relay and as you may have guessed I signed up for the running leg. Our team consisted of Lani (swim), Iain (bike), and me (run).
Bam - next thing I knew swimmers were in the water and the race was on. I hustled back to the transition area so I could snap photos of the team coming in and support Iain who was ready to go as soon as Lani came in from the swim. Oh my, special thanks to Lani for swimming. I'm not saying that Iain and I could not have managed the swim - well yes, I am actually saying that - without Lani we'd have been sunk, in more ways than one. She kicked the swim and was running through the sand on her way for the hand off. Some of the team had already been in and were out on the bike leg. Their transitions were smooth and calculated....well nearly. Sharon came in and saw that her bike had been moved - let me say that no one is ever supposed to touch a competitors bike - yet someone did. Holy moley when she saw it the "special" words flew faster than bullets from a Gatling gun. I saw a preacher run for his bible believing he had a soul to save. Steve and I dived for cover afraid to speak. Not to be derailed she grabbed her bike whispered a 'sorry' to the volunteers and was off.
Lani reached Iain and the transfer was complete - Iain was off. A man on a mission. He had ridden the course as part of his training and I knew he'd rock it - he's been working hard to increase his speed and to do well today. I had about 45 minutes until my run would begin so I began my prep, putting on my race bib, warming up, mentally getting ready to push myself. This was not going to be fun - I wanted to run hard and finish knowing I gave it my best. Those runs while fantastic at the end are simply painful during. Bikers were coming in and our team was looking strong. They were in and out of transition in a flash and after the 3.1 miles, would be running across the finish line.
I saw Iain a few blocks out, coming in strong with a huge smile on his face. He rolled in and and I was off. The run was uneventful. My first mile was 7:09 and I finished averaging 7:18. A half mile to go and I saw Jamie - another relay team! My focus became easy - catch her, pass her. She was moving at a pretty good clip however. About a quarter mile to go I was a yard behind her. I thought about passing her but decided against it. I was worried that this young runner would have more in the tank than I and would then pass me prior to the finish - couldn't have that. So I set my sights on the upcoming sidewalk, that would be my push. Hitting it I gave what I had left, passing her and going hard to the finish. I managed to keep my lead but could swear I heard her footsteps right behind me. Teammates who had finished and friends were cheering as we came in and honestly, it filled me with such happiness the pain of the run disappeared. I love those guys.
Our relay team "Triple Threat" took first place in the relay category - but only by 2.4 seconds - Paula and Jamie earned the right to stand up with us side by side. Maybe we'll all take our victory glasses and toast a race well ran. During the awards ceremony someone from BetrolliSport seemed to always be walking up for an award - the team really rocked it. That of course is a testament to the program. Training plans, group workouts, motivating each other, and maybe most important of all, cementing friendships and creating new ones that will last well beyond this season were key ingredients. I admit that this year seemed different than last. There was more responsibility on each individual to own their plan, their workouts. This worked well for some and others found it more difficult. All I can say is that the people and the program continue to change me. I saw victories at events as well as in personal lives. Fear was beaten down and lives enriched. The character of these people is never in question and I would stand up for each and every one of them. We were many yet we were one. You are never alone - maybe it's because whenever you need a hand there is always one outstretched just waiting to help. For those who say there's no magic left in the world, come join BetrolliSport....
Sunday, July 31, 2011
Balls
Balls. That's right you know exactly what I mean. If you're confused let me help. I don't mean a basketball, tennis ball, golf ball, or even those little red rubber balls - though, well....never mind. I mean "balls" as in courage or bravery. I've seen it a lot lately, particularly with my Tri and Multisports teammates. As I think about it, examples flood my mind racing in and out, leaving short snapshots that are almost overwhelming. My dad getting cancer and fighting it head on with spirit and humor. It took him from us and I can still see myself watching him slip away that day. He was a strong man and I'm sure he had days where he felt like giving up. Maybe he cried. I never saw it. He worked, took his treatment and never bitched to us about it. He taught me a lot and I still miss him today.
My youngest son Taylor when he found out he had a brain tumor. He looked at me without fear or tears and simply wondered how soon they could take it out. Through a zillion tests and MRI's he stood tall. I cried like a baby, not sure if he would live though it. He was the rock. He lost all peripheral vision and we would walk together after the surgery and talk about it, wondering if it would come back - the doctors had said it was likely but nothing was promised. He took it in stride and came through it all. I am still amazed at the courage he displayed through it all.
I hate water. Hate may be a strong word. No, it's the right word. I have learned to swim in the pool with the help of my friends and my heart rate no longer puts a hummingbird to shame. Balls? Maybe. My friend Mike feels the same way about water as I do yet today I saw him once again swimming in open water. Open Water! He doesn't like it but he's doing it, pushing himself through a place he'd rather not go. Balls. F yeah. Courage - a shitload.
Does it take balls to run your first 5K? Half marathon? Marathon? To do your first triathlon? To move from a Sprint to an Olympic? It does. It takes nerve, guts, courage. Often the courage falls in with what it takes to prepare for the event. The hours of training, time away from family, sessions that can beat you down if you let them. Pushing yourself past the place of comfort. I've seen my teammates push through the barrier time and time again. We nod heads and say good job but in reality we should celebrate - the accomplishment deserves it. How about training for an Ironman 70.3? 1.2 mile swim, 56 mile bike, and a half marathon to finish it off. I've watched Sharon train for this and heard stories about her 60 mile bike sessions with 17 miles of hills with Dan and others (I forget names), her latest 3 hour run at the Watershed and it goes on and on. I'd have to visit one of those Hollywood doctors to hope to come out with the balls to do something like that.
Let's be clear, I'm no pussy. I've accomplished a tremendous amount in my mind and given enough time I could speak to nearly some of them. None of which would have ever happened had I not told myself they had. Clear? Take some time this week to look around and see the examples of bravery and courage that are all around you. Stop in front of the mirror and say thank you to the person you see for the courage and bravery they display - for the big things and the small. That person does more than they think and carries more on their shoulders than they may realize - have the balls to tell them so, you just may get a smile in return.
My youngest son Taylor when he found out he had a brain tumor. He looked at me without fear or tears and simply wondered how soon they could take it out. Through a zillion tests and MRI's he stood tall. I cried like a baby, not sure if he would live though it. He was the rock. He lost all peripheral vision and we would walk together after the surgery and talk about it, wondering if it would come back - the doctors had said it was likely but nothing was promised. He took it in stride and came through it all. I am still amazed at the courage he displayed through it all.
I hate water. Hate may be a strong word. No, it's the right word. I have learned to swim in the pool with the help of my friends and my heart rate no longer puts a hummingbird to shame. Balls? Maybe. My friend Mike feels the same way about water as I do yet today I saw him once again swimming in open water. Open Water! He doesn't like it but he's doing it, pushing himself through a place he'd rather not go. Balls. F yeah. Courage - a shitload.
Does it take balls to run your first 5K? Half marathon? Marathon? To do your first triathlon? To move from a Sprint to an Olympic? It does. It takes nerve, guts, courage. Often the courage falls in with what it takes to prepare for the event. The hours of training, time away from family, sessions that can beat you down if you let them. Pushing yourself past the place of comfort. I've seen my teammates push through the barrier time and time again. We nod heads and say good job but in reality we should celebrate - the accomplishment deserves it. How about training for an Ironman 70.3? 1.2 mile swim, 56 mile bike, and a half marathon to finish it off. I've watched Sharon train for this and heard stories about her 60 mile bike sessions with 17 miles of hills with Dan and others (I forget names), her latest 3 hour run at the Watershed and it goes on and on. I'd have to visit one of those Hollywood doctors to hope to come out with the balls to do something like that.
Let's be clear, I'm no pussy. I've accomplished a tremendous amount in my mind and given enough time I could speak to nearly some of them. None of which would have ever happened had I not told myself they had. Clear? Take some time this week to look around and see the examples of bravery and courage that are all around you. Stop in front of the mirror and say thank you to the person you see for the courage and bravery they display - for the big things and the small. That person does more than they think and carries more on their shoulders than they may realize - have the balls to tell them so, you just may get a smile in return.
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Possibilities
Monday I ran faster than I have in 18 months. Why was this 5K different? After all I am older so in theory my speed should be decreasing – that’s what the experts say. They also say that as men turn 50 they begin to lose speed, they start to focus on endurance. Probably because once the lightning leaves your feet you feel like to have to hang on, grab on to something to prove “it’s not over”. Running longer and slower keeps you out there, out there with the runners, the athletes, the vibe. Sometimes it’s hard to line up for a race and in front of you is a sea of well tuned young runners with so much pent up energy that they are bouncing up and down just waiting to get out of the gate. Meanwhile I’m telling myself it’s only a race, remember to breathe, start out slow, have fun. Deep inside however I want to run hard, run fast, faster than them, I want to win. I know I won’t. They will break the tape well before me.
So what made Monday so different? Have I been holding back? Maybe. Why? Fear? Maybe. Confidence? Probably. It’s not easy to push yourself to that place where your body tells you to stop it. Your legs and lungs tell your brain that you are being stupid, you should slow down before something bad happens. The next thing you know, you’re slowing and justifying in your mind that it’s the right thing to do. You become comfortable, safe. Once there, you’re screwed. You’ve lost. Lost not only this race but those you have yet to run. I admire the fearless runner – you know who you are. You hear the same voice but your push it away, you turn a deaf ear to it and you run, run harder, push harder. I admire you for that. I’m trying to learn from the strength you display.
I did learn something about myself at the Rock n Roll Half Marathon. Maybe not so much in the first few miles but certainly as the race went on. I’ve been holding back. Holding back - afraid to cross that threshold that puts you in a very dangerous place. Dangerous because once there, no one can help you. Dangerous because you hear so many voices and only one of them urges you to keep going, the rest are anchors ready to stop you in your tracks. Dangerous because it can define you – one way of another.
I heard the voices Monday. They started a half mile in when my pace was sub seven. They told me to slow the hell down because I could never keep that pace up. That voice was right. I slowed between a 7:00 and 7:19. Still fast, in fact faster than I have managed in a long time. A mile in the voices urged me again to slow down. “You should be running an 8 minute pace right now, what are you doing?” I decided to let them talk but I wouldn’t listen. Ok, I was listening a little but doing my best to ignore them. Finishing mile two my legs began to feel like rubber. My pace was 7:18. Voices spoke louder and my brain said slow down. I thought about previous races, failures, the Rock n Roll and decided at that moment that I wasn’t going to slow. I would push through and if the good Lord wanted to take me than what the hell, my next 5K would be with wings and harp music. Amazingly my lungs felt fine. Air was flowing and that gave me a renewed since of confidence. Damn cross training. Frickin pool…bike…core…and the various cardio machines that taunt me. Thanks Sharon – I used to give you crap about it and here I am, running stronger because of it.
That last mile was hard but I’m still here. Crossing the finish line at 22:29 felt amazing. Part of that feeling was the time clock but most of it was the mental victory which meant more to me than the time. The time simply serves as a checkpoint, a stake in the ground that said I did it. I guess it’s not over for this guy – I still have some ass to kick - granted it’ll be older ass…Maybe all my races won’t be good, but some will. I’ll take the good with the bad as long as I know I did the best I could that day. Running is now full of possibilities for me again. We all have possibilities. Some point us in a new direction, be it a scary direction some times. You may have voices in your head telling you to slow down, to stop, to settle. I don’t think you should. You deserve more than that. Possibilities – they are yours for the taking – take them.
So what made Monday so different? Have I been holding back? Maybe. Why? Fear? Maybe. Confidence? Probably. It’s not easy to push yourself to that place where your body tells you to stop it. Your legs and lungs tell your brain that you are being stupid, you should slow down before something bad happens. The next thing you know, you’re slowing and justifying in your mind that it’s the right thing to do. You become comfortable, safe. Once there, you’re screwed. You’ve lost. Lost not only this race but those you have yet to run. I admire the fearless runner – you know who you are. You hear the same voice but your push it away, you turn a deaf ear to it and you run, run harder, push harder. I admire you for that. I’m trying to learn from the strength you display.
I did learn something about myself at the Rock n Roll Half Marathon. Maybe not so much in the first few miles but certainly as the race went on. I’ve been holding back. Holding back - afraid to cross that threshold that puts you in a very dangerous place. Dangerous because once there, no one can help you. Dangerous because you hear so many voices and only one of them urges you to keep going, the rest are anchors ready to stop you in your tracks. Dangerous because it can define you – one way of another.
I heard the voices Monday. They started a half mile in when my pace was sub seven. They told me to slow the hell down because I could never keep that pace up. That voice was right. I slowed between a 7:00 and 7:19. Still fast, in fact faster than I have managed in a long time. A mile in the voices urged me again to slow down. “You should be running an 8 minute pace right now, what are you doing?” I decided to let them talk but I wouldn’t listen. Ok, I was listening a little but doing my best to ignore them. Finishing mile two my legs began to feel like rubber. My pace was 7:18. Voices spoke louder and my brain said slow down. I thought about previous races, failures, the Rock n Roll and decided at that moment that I wasn’t going to slow. I would push through and if the good Lord wanted to take me than what the hell, my next 5K would be with wings and harp music. Amazingly my lungs felt fine. Air was flowing and that gave me a renewed since of confidence. Damn cross training. Frickin pool…bike…core…and the various cardio machines that taunt me. Thanks Sharon – I used to give you crap about it and here I am, running stronger because of it.
That last mile was hard but I’m still here. Crossing the finish line at 22:29 felt amazing. Part of that feeling was the time clock but most of it was the mental victory which meant more to me than the time. The time simply serves as a checkpoint, a stake in the ground that said I did it. I guess it’s not over for this guy – I still have some ass to kick - granted it’ll be older ass…Maybe all my races won’t be good, but some will. I’ll take the good with the bad as long as I know I did the best I could that day. Running is now full of possibilities for me again. We all have possibilities. Some point us in a new direction, be it a scary direction some times. You may have voices in your head telling you to slow down, to stop, to settle. I don’t think you should. You deserve more than that. Possibilities – they are yours for the taking – take them.
Saturday, June 25, 2011
Spur of the moment
You know me, I'm not a spur of the moment kind of guy. I'm a planner. It once took me 14 months to buy a car. I put money away every month for Christmas so I can pay cash for presents. My grocery list follows the order of the aisles in the store. I buy extra socks and underwear that I don't wear so I always have spares. I find an event, train for it, then on race day I pound it out. On June 24th I decided to do the Seattle Rock n Roll Half Marathon. On June 25th I ran it. Crazy!
The story is this - my friend David had signed up for the Half and ended up hurting his ankle so he couldn't run. At the last minute Sharon decides to take his place. She calls me and says that I should come with. "Come with" turns into "run it with me". But how could I? After all it was tomorrow and what was she thinking??? Who has the wild eyes now? Not me baby. I pondered it and figured I could jog it and tackle the 13.1 miles (though I had not covered that distance since last year). One more thing, I would bandit the race. Not pay for it. No race number. No timing chip. Of course I printed the rules out and it clearly stated that without a race number you would not be allowed on the shuttle bus. I told Sharon this and she replied "It's no big deal, they won't check". I argued of course because it was after all a rule. I became a little pissy but in the end we concluded that she would pick me up at 5:00am the next morning.
As we arrived at the shuttle point we were shocked to see thousands of people already in line. We walked around the Westin hotel looking for the end of the line which we finally found after walking around the entire building. I don't know how many days were were in line. Ok, minutes but it was nearly 45. We finally were loaded on a bus and the thought of sitting down for the 20 minute ride was heaven. Oh know, we're on the bus and it's full. We have to stand (Sharon ended up sitting on the floor). I'm already tired and we haven't started the run yet. Bus drops us off to a sea of people. I think over 25,000 people ran plus volunteers, cops, etc. A crap load of people. Of course we needed to use the port a potty in order to lose a few precious pre-race pounds. The lines were huge! In fact all 25,000+ people were in line in front of us - or so it seemed.
Business taken care of, we proceeded to our corral. Lucky number three it was. On the way I turned my Garmin on only to find that my pace wasn't working. I had monkeyed around with it to get it set up for biking and clearly screwed the pooch. No time to try and figure out how to set it up properly. Yes, I used some colorful words that I won't repeat here. How could I run a half without my Garmin to help guide my pace? It was what it was. We moved on. We were late. Corral three had already left. By the time we walked past folks to get to the front, we were in corral 27. F! This meant thousands of slower runners in front of us and we were smack in a pack of 11-13 minute milers. So what you might think. Wrong. Slower runners mean that you have to dodge, run around, and more or less always be looking 5 yards ahead to find your spot to run through. We did this the entire race. I ran back and forth, on sidewalks and grass, and ended up running 14+ miles.
At mile 7 I yelled out a thank you to the band and commented to the girls running near me that I could use all the energy I could get. One responded that it was mile 7 and I looked like I had only just started the race and I didn't need any more energy. As I left them in the dust it occurred to me that I wasn't tired. I was actually having fun, smiling, and felt pretty good. What the heck was going on with me? By mile 8 I was hot and took off my shirt (easy now girls) and tied it on my head. The air on my sweaty chest cooled me off and felt good. That read like something from a romance novel. "Slowly Michael pulled his shirt up and over his well tanned broad shoulders....". I hit mile 11 and my phone buzzed. Yes, I was running with phone in hand. It was Sharon and she had just finished - dang, two miles ahead of me. She is stronger and faster I won't deny that. I made a weak attempt to run and text back "mile 11" to give her an idea of where I was - ever text while running and passing people? I'm sure some folks weren't happy with me. Mile 12 had hundreds of people cheering and I loved it. However that mile seemed to go on forever. Finally the home stretch was in sight and holy heck, I felt good. Sprinted a bit for a good show at the finish :)
We grabbed our finishers medals, water, and were off. We had a 2-3 mile walk to the car ahead of us. We joked and laughed about the run. Sharon killed it but doesn't like me to post her metrics so I will leave it with this - she's frickin impressive. I thanked her for asking me to run the half, for pushing me out of my comfort zone. I learned that I am capable of doing more than I have. My time was probably just under two hours and I hadn't trained for this, didn't push myself at all during the race. My body may not be 100%, but it can handle more than I've been pushing it's way. Without a doubt or a moment of hesitation, I'm all in - let's see what this baby can do.
The story is this - my friend David had signed up for the Half and ended up hurting his ankle so he couldn't run. At the last minute Sharon decides to take his place. She calls me and says that I should come with. "Come with" turns into "run it with me". But how could I? After all it was tomorrow and what was she thinking??? Who has the wild eyes now? Not me baby. I pondered it and figured I could jog it and tackle the 13.1 miles (though I had not covered that distance since last year). One more thing, I would bandit the race. Not pay for it. No race number. No timing chip. Of course I printed the rules out and it clearly stated that without a race number you would not be allowed on the shuttle bus. I told Sharon this and she replied "It's no big deal, they won't check". I argued of course because it was after all a rule. I became a little pissy but in the end we concluded that she would pick me up at 5:00am the next morning.
As we arrived at the shuttle point we were shocked to see thousands of people already in line. We walked around the Westin hotel looking for the end of the line which we finally found after walking around the entire building. I don't know how many days were were in line. Ok, minutes but it was nearly 45. We finally were loaded on a bus and the thought of sitting down for the 20 minute ride was heaven. Oh know, we're on the bus and it's full. We have to stand (Sharon ended up sitting on the floor). I'm already tired and we haven't started the run yet. Bus drops us off to a sea of people. I think over 25,000 people ran plus volunteers, cops, etc. A crap load of people. Of course we needed to use the port a potty in order to lose a few precious pre-race pounds. The lines were huge! In fact all 25,000+ people were in line in front of us - or so it seemed.
Business taken care of, we proceeded to our corral. Lucky number three it was. On the way I turned my Garmin on only to find that my pace wasn't working. I had monkeyed around with it to get it set up for biking and clearly screwed the pooch. No time to try and figure out how to set it up properly. Yes, I used some colorful words that I won't repeat here. How could I run a half without my Garmin to help guide my pace? It was what it was. We moved on. We were late. Corral three had already left. By the time we walked past folks to get to the front, we were in corral 27. F! This meant thousands of slower runners in front of us and we were smack in a pack of 11-13 minute milers. So what you might think. Wrong. Slower runners mean that you have to dodge, run around, and more or less always be looking 5 yards ahead to find your spot to run through. We did this the entire race. I ran back and forth, on sidewalks and grass, and ended up running 14+ miles.
At mile 7 I yelled out a thank you to the band and commented to the girls running near me that I could use all the energy I could get. One responded that it was mile 7 and I looked like I had only just started the race and I didn't need any more energy. As I left them in the dust it occurred to me that I wasn't tired. I was actually having fun, smiling, and felt pretty good. What the heck was going on with me? By mile 8 I was hot and took off my shirt (easy now girls) and tied it on my head. The air on my sweaty chest cooled me off and felt good. That read like something from a romance novel. "Slowly Michael pulled his shirt up and over his well tanned broad shoulders....". I hit mile 11 and my phone buzzed. Yes, I was running with phone in hand. It was Sharon and she had just finished - dang, two miles ahead of me. She is stronger and faster I won't deny that. I made a weak attempt to run and text back "mile 11" to give her an idea of where I was - ever text while running and passing people? I'm sure some folks weren't happy with me. Mile 12 had hundreds of people cheering and I loved it. However that mile seemed to go on forever. Finally the home stretch was in sight and holy heck, I felt good. Sprinted a bit for a good show at the finish :)
We grabbed our finishers medals, water, and were off. We had a 2-3 mile walk to the car ahead of us. We joked and laughed about the run. Sharon killed it but doesn't like me to post her metrics so I will leave it with this - she's frickin impressive. I thanked her for asking me to run the half, for pushing me out of my comfort zone. I learned that I am capable of doing more than I have. My time was probably just under two hours and I hadn't trained for this, didn't push myself at all during the race. My body may not be 100%, but it can handle more than I've been pushing it's way. Without a doubt or a moment of hesitation, I'm all in - let's see what this baby can do.
Sunday, June 19, 2011
One step closer
I competed in another Triathlon relay yesterday. The first time I did a relay I ran, ran because it has been what I do, what I am comfortable with. This time I did the bike and run - in fact I did it twice. All I need to do is master the swim and a full on Tri will be mine! Master the swim. Reality is it's more like master the mind and the swim will come. Working on that but the mind is not cooperating.
Knowing that I'd be biking in addition to running made me a little nervous. The fact that I would do it twice had my stomach gurgling. When Paula, my partner in crime suggested the Elite relay it sounded good. Truth be told I had consumed a couple beers by the time she asked me and possibly wasn't thinking through what it meant. Darn beer goggles. They can impair your judgement. Girls look skinnier...girls look prettier...you seem funnier...you wake in the morning and finally understand the last thing you heard from your best friend the night before - only it's too late and you just hope the name and number you gave was not your own....time for the escape pod...."Let me run out and get us some breakfast Barbara...I mean Betty...oh yeah, Beth...sorry."
The other reason I was nervous was the only other time I biked and ran was during a training session last year. After finishing the run my quads cramped up so bad my friends had to walk me in and rub them out. I recall swinging my arms around in pain and accidentally smacking Sharon on the side of the face as she was trying to help me. Sorry. I had a little fear that I would cramp up again. Maybe more than a little...The upside to this race was that I had invested in a new bike, a bike that would hopefully level the playing field, allowing me to push myself and fly.
Paula is a great swimmer and an incredible person - I was lucky to be on her team - Team Knotty Bits. I knew that even if I sucked, she wouldn't care. The weather was crap. Cold and rainy - in fact at times during the ride the rain was coming down sideways. There I was, in shorts and a tank top. No gloves...no running pants. Boom, next thing I knew Paula was in the water and the event was in play. She finished the swim in just over seven minutes and was heading to transition. I was ready. Bike shoes on, helmet on, nervous gas rolling around in my stomach. She handed me the timing chip and I was off. Two laps and I'd be back to complete the running leg. My goal was to average 15 mph which I thought would be safe since I had to run (without cramping) and then repeat the entire process. I averaged 18.6 mph and feel pretty good about that. Came in for transition and could not get one of my biking shoes off. The release was stuck. Finally yanked the shoe off put on the runners and took forever to tie them. My hands were so cold I actually had to have someone unhook my helmet.
I was off. Couldn't feel my feet and felt like lead. I was moving forward however! My shoes kept feeling like they were falling off and I'd look down and everything was as it should be. My target was an 8:00 pace and I managed a 7:16 - I think they made a mistake because it didn't feel like I was moving at all. Finished and slid into transition and there was Paula ready to take the chip and jump back in the water for swim number two. She was off in seconds. While she was gone I managed to fix my shoe and prep for the next ride. Holy hell, she was back in eight minutes. She rocks! I found myself back on the bike and out on the course. My legs had less juice and lap one was tough. I managed 17.7 mph for the bike but it was hard. More mental that anything else - I was worried about the run.
I came in with the bike and was a bit light headed. Paula knew something was up and took the bike from me. Some guy took my helmet off and I managed to get my shoes on. I got up to run, staggered a few steps and fell - my wrist does not like me today. My shoe became untied three times which meant I needed to take more time and do it right the first time. Quarter mile in my calves started to cramp. I kept moving and thank goodness they worked themselves out. I managed a slow 8:10 pace and glory be when I saw the finish I was happy. The Bertollisport team was cheering and that energy was all I needed to finish. I was a little shaky but once again, the team as they always do, helped me. Special folks always looking out for each other - love em!
Speaking of them, Bertollisport kicked major ass - which speaks volumes for the program, the leadership, and the dedication of the athletes. Forgive me if I miss any of the top finishers. Sharon took first in her age division (8th overall), Loni and Mike won the relay, Paula and I won the Elite relay, Sue, Sonia, Robin Jim, Doug, and Mike all finished top 5 or better in their age divisions!! The rest of the gang? Oh my, they rocked it and we had many doing their first ever Tri! All that can be another blog in of itself! We had a support crew cheering and taking pictures. Did I say I love this group of crazies? I do.
Special thanks to Paula however for without even knowing it, set me up to prove something to myself, to overcome a hurdle. The race was not easy and there were mental hurdles I had to overcome. I did. I know I can improve my performance. I know I can push myself harder. My body has argued with me much of this year and unfortunately is better than I at debate. I am still recovering and look forward to being 100%. Cross training helped me today. My friends helped me today. Whether or not a Tri is in my future, today I became one step closer....
Knowing that I'd be biking in addition to running made me a little nervous. The fact that I would do it twice had my stomach gurgling. When Paula, my partner in crime suggested the Elite relay it sounded good. Truth be told I had consumed a couple beers by the time she asked me and possibly wasn't thinking through what it meant. Darn beer goggles. They can impair your judgement. Girls look skinnier...girls look prettier...you seem funnier...you wake in the morning and finally understand the last thing you heard from your best friend the night before - only it's too late and you just hope the name and number you gave was not your own....time for the escape pod...."Let me run out and get us some breakfast Barbara...I mean Betty...oh yeah, Beth...sorry."
The other reason I was nervous was the only other time I biked and ran was during a training session last year. After finishing the run my quads cramped up so bad my friends had to walk me in and rub them out. I recall swinging my arms around in pain and accidentally smacking Sharon on the side of the face as she was trying to help me. Sorry. I had a little fear that I would cramp up again. Maybe more than a little...The upside to this race was that I had invested in a new bike, a bike that would hopefully level the playing field, allowing me to push myself and fly.
Paula is a great swimmer and an incredible person - I was lucky to be on her team - Team Knotty Bits. I knew that even if I sucked, she wouldn't care. The weather was crap. Cold and rainy - in fact at times during the ride the rain was coming down sideways. There I was, in shorts and a tank top. No gloves...no running pants. Boom, next thing I knew Paula was in the water and the event was in play. She finished the swim in just over seven minutes and was heading to transition. I was ready. Bike shoes on, helmet on, nervous gas rolling around in my stomach. She handed me the timing chip and I was off. Two laps and I'd be back to complete the running leg. My goal was to average 15 mph which I thought would be safe since I had to run (without cramping) and then repeat the entire process. I averaged 18.6 mph and feel pretty good about that. Came in for transition and could not get one of my biking shoes off. The release was stuck. Finally yanked the shoe off put on the runners and took forever to tie them. My hands were so cold I actually had to have someone unhook my helmet.
I was off. Couldn't feel my feet and felt like lead. I was moving forward however! My shoes kept feeling like they were falling off and I'd look down and everything was as it should be. My target was an 8:00 pace and I managed a 7:16 - I think they made a mistake because it didn't feel like I was moving at all. Finished and slid into transition and there was Paula ready to take the chip and jump back in the water for swim number two. She was off in seconds. While she was gone I managed to fix my shoe and prep for the next ride. Holy hell, she was back in eight minutes. She rocks! I found myself back on the bike and out on the course. My legs had less juice and lap one was tough. I managed 17.7 mph for the bike but it was hard. More mental that anything else - I was worried about the run.
I came in with the bike and was a bit light headed. Paula knew something was up and took the bike from me. Some guy took my helmet off and I managed to get my shoes on. I got up to run, staggered a few steps and fell - my wrist does not like me today. My shoe became untied three times which meant I needed to take more time and do it right the first time. Quarter mile in my calves started to cramp. I kept moving and thank goodness they worked themselves out. I managed a slow 8:10 pace and glory be when I saw the finish I was happy. The Bertollisport team was cheering and that energy was all I needed to finish. I was a little shaky but once again, the team as they always do, helped me. Special folks always looking out for each other - love em!
Speaking of them, Bertollisport kicked major ass - which speaks volumes for the program, the leadership, and the dedication of the athletes. Forgive me if I miss any of the top finishers. Sharon took first in her age division (8th overall), Loni and Mike won the relay, Paula and I won the Elite relay, Sue, Sonia, Robin Jim, Doug, and Mike all finished top 5 or better in their age divisions!! The rest of the gang? Oh my, they rocked it and we had many doing their first ever Tri! All that can be another blog in of itself! We had a support crew cheering and taking pictures. Did I say I love this group of crazies? I do.
Special thanks to Paula however for without even knowing it, set me up to prove something to myself, to overcome a hurdle. The race was not easy and there were mental hurdles I had to overcome. I did. I know I can improve my performance. I know I can push myself harder. My body has argued with me much of this year and unfortunately is better than I at debate. I am still recovering and look forward to being 100%. Cross training helped me today. My friends helped me today. Whether or not a Tri is in my future, today I became one step closer....
Saturday, June 4, 2011
Lord Hill Revisited
Conquer your fears! Get back on the horse! If at first you don't succeed....ok you get the drift. I admit my first experience with Lord Hill wasn't anything to write home about - blog maybe and since mom reads my blogs maybe it's a wash. She does read them and I am sure often would like to edit some of the language :). My mom is very supportive. While on a good day I could run a 5K in a tad over 22 minutes, my mom would be proud of me even if it took me all day. I love that! Of course an all day 5K would mean I suck eggs but at least I'd know my mom would be there cheering me on. Thanks mom....
Today we headed back to the scene of the crime - Lord Hill. I wasn't worried or the least bit nervous - I always shake like that so leave me be. We were late arriving due to the remarkable navigation skills of my co-pilot. I won't mention names because she meant well and wasn't feeling 100%. Get well soon Sharon. Oops. Iain got us back on track and we arrived in one piece and the rest of the gang was there waiting for us. No one was running more than an hour so we grabbed a buddy or two and took off. I was messing with my iPod and before I knew it, Stacy, Mikki, Iain, and myself were alone and working our way down the trail. It was Mikki's first trail run (turned out to be a great run for her) and she ran with Iain.
Stacy and I peeled off to the right, taking the pipeline trail. Yes - I had a buddy. The team may have drawn straws before I arrived to see who would run with the guy who got lost last time. Stacy either got stuck with me or was lucky - I'll go with lucky. I'll also call her Hollywood. She wore these sunglasses and appeared to have her hair done one day last week for our run. It cracked me up. Then it rained on her and she NEVER runs in the rain - oh my, I think I could write an entire blog on that!
Anyway, I had priorities today. The most important was not to get lost. Next was to enjoy the run and get a good workout. I decided to stay on the pipeline trail as it appeared to be long and straight and we only needed that layout to remain for 30 minutes - at 30 we'd turn and run back. The trail only forced us to take a turn once and we managed to remember where that was! Holy crap the trail was hard - hilly and rocky! Our pace allowed us to chat some which I enjoyed. Stacy is great and I enjoyed getting to know her better. Heck at one point she shared her water with me. The circumstance was Michael running with his mouth open as wide as the Grand Canyon and straight into a swarm of gnats. Not sure how many I ate but seven or eight struggled to get all the way down my throat - water was key at that point.
On the way back we found that the dramatic declines we struggled not to trip down had turned into the most incredible mountains to climb, or run. Sweet mother of pearl they were killers. I managed to slowly run up but my lungs were screaming and both quads burned. That was only hill number one. Stacy and I ran the second one together and somehow we managed to crest the top and found level ground as a reward. On the trail we found many a mud puddle and I of course ran right through them while Stacy always went around, commenting on not getting dirty. Ha ha! Again, she cracks me up. By the by, she's one crazy great bike rider and I look forward to eating her dust on the road.
We made it back to the entrance and met up with the gang. My Garmin showed 59:58:58. Just shy of 60 minutes which was the goal. I didn't even turn it back on and run a couple seconds just to hit 60. I'm getting better aren't I? We packed in the cars and made our way to Starbucks for our post run fuel/reward. Today Lord Hill didn't suck as much as it did last time. It still sucked but I can see myself coming back and running it again. Not right away, always with a buddy, and maybe with my mouth closed. Tomorrow we swim in open water for the first time this year followed by a bike ride. Open water....I know, be careful. I will. There are swim angels to help me should I manage to make it from the grass to the sand and finally to the water. How bad could it be? After all, I survived Lord Hill with a little help from my friends.
Today we headed back to the scene of the crime - Lord Hill. I wasn't worried or the least bit nervous - I always shake like that so leave me be. We were late arriving due to the remarkable navigation skills of my co-pilot. I won't mention names because she meant well and wasn't feeling 100%. Get well soon Sharon. Oops. Iain got us back on track and we arrived in one piece and the rest of the gang was there waiting for us. No one was running more than an hour so we grabbed a buddy or two and took off. I was messing with my iPod and before I knew it, Stacy, Mikki, Iain, and myself were alone and working our way down the trail. It was Mikki's first trail run (turned out to be a great run for her) and she ran with Iain.
Stacy and I peeled off to the right, taking the pipeline trail. Yes - I had a buddy. The team may have drawn straws before I arrived to see who would run with the guy who got lost last time. Stacy either got stuck with me or was lucky - I'll go with lucky. I'll also call her Hollywood. She wore these sunglasses and appeared to have her hair done one day last week for our run. It cracked me up. Then it rained on her and she NEVER runs in the rain - oh my, I think I could write an entire blog on that!
Anyway, I had priorities today. The most important was not to get lost. Next was to enjoy the run and get a good workout. I decided to stay on the pipeline trail as it appeared to be long and straight and we only needed that layout to remain for 30 minutes - at 30 we'd turn and run back. The trail only forced us to take a turn once and we managed to remember where that was! Holy crap the trail was hard - hilly and rocky! Our pace allowed us to chat some which I enjoyed. Stacy is great and I enjoyed getting to know her better. Heck at one point she shared her water with me. The circumstance was Michael running with his mouth open as wide as the Grand Canyon and straight into a swarm of gnats. Not sure how many I ate but seven or eight struggled to get all the way down my throat - water was key at that point.
On the way back we found that the dramatic declines we struggled not to trip down had turned into the most incredible mountains to climb, or run. Sweet mother of pearl they were killers. I managed to slowly run up but my lungs were screaming and both quads burned. That was only hill number one. Stacy and I ran the second one together and somehow we managed to crest the top and found level ground as a reward. On the trail we found many a mud puddle and I of course ran right through them while Stacy always went around, commenting on not getting dirty. Ha ha! Again, she cracks me up. By the by, she's one crazy great bike rider and I look forward to eating her dust on the road.
We made it back to the entrance and met up with the gang. My Garmin showed 59:58:58. Just shy of 60 minutes which was the goal. I didn't even turn it back on and run a couple seconds just to hit 60. I'm getting better aren't I? We packed in the cars and made our way to Starbucks for our post run fuel/reward. Today Lord Hill didn't suck as much as it did last time. It still sucked but I can see myself coming back and running it again. Not right away, always with a buddy, and maybe with my mouth closed. Tomorrow we swim in open water for the first time this year followed by a bike ride. Open water....I know, be careful. I will. There are swim angels to help me should I manage to make it from the grass to the sand and finally to the water. How bad could it be? After all, I survived Lord Hill with a little help from my friends.
Sunday, May 22, 2011
Two Wheels to Heaven
Two blogs in two days...wowza baby. I woke this morning recovered from the Lord Hill episode. K, more like semi recovered. My body was reminding me that the prior days activities were a bit taxing however it was nothing to call 911 about. What helped was dinner with great friends - good company and laughter is hard to beat and I believe it's good medicine. The evening wrapped up with the fireplace and complete relaxation - I was ready for the brick workout Sunday morning.
There was sort of a plan in place to ride our new bikes after swim. I was looking forward to riding with Sharon. She's learned a lot about biking and would push me. Being somewhat of a newbie on the bike I knew I needed that. I could picture her ahead of me turning her head to see where I was only to be disgusted that I was falling behind. "Jesxx Fucxxx Chxxxx, are you some little pusxx boy or what? Pick it up or I'll drop you where you stand (or ride in this case)." Lol! Actually she is very supportive as her runners have learned. She's a teacher first - but don't hold back with her - she can get the best out of you.
I rode in to the Y in a light rain and as I rolled up I was nervous that I'd crash. You see I have these clips and shoes and once in them you can't get out unless you twist your heal to the outside. Everyone falls. That's the stories I've heard and I wasn't about to be that guy. I coasted to a stop, twisted my heal to the right and it popped right out - like a pro! After talking with Sharon it was clear that our schedules weren't going to line up and I'd be on my own. Some of the group went to spin and the rest of us to the pool (oh goody). Hey now, I am getting better. Still use the fins but the lifeguards occasionally watch someone else. Progress!!
I take many rest breaks in the pool and today was no different. Sharon and Robin were in the lane next to me and for 60+ minutes they swam back and forth without stopping - amazing. Paula was a lane over and had a similar performance. Mauricio and I would glance at each other and smile as we rested, though it was unspoken, we felt lucky to have each other in a swimming world where the woman were smokin it. After a lifetime in the pool I changed and headed out on my bike.
I clipped in and was off. It was great! The shoes and clips take getting used to. You pull your foot up and the pedal comes with - how cool is that! I think there is some benefit there that I need to capture. I'm sure there is a way to increase ones power or reduce fatigue, or both. The shifters were another thing altogether. My old bike had levers down below the handle bars. This bike has them integrated into the brakes so you simply click them one way to move up the other to move down. Sounds easy but it must have been opposite day cause I struggled. The Biking Gods must have been ready to send down training wheels.
I stopped multiple times due to traffic and each time I clipped out like a champ. I biked a loop three times and loved it. I was flying, smiling, and had my quads not begun to burn, would have stayed on the road longer. But enough is enough and I didn't to push it on day one. I was also a little worried about the after effects of the bicycle seat if you know what I mean. I'm not saying I have a tender tush but a guys gotta be careful. So I turned for home and rounded the corner to my house. On the corner was a neighbor walking her dog. We toss a couple "hi's " as I slow into my driveway. She calls out "Hey, I started running again and plan on doing the Seattle Rock n Roll". I reply "Great!" and at the same time stop the bike and take my foot off the pedal. Oh yeah, I'm clipped in. My foot won't come off the pedal. As I begin to fall and slam first against my garage door en route to the aggregate driveway, I hear a long slow Ssssshiiiiiiit rolling off my lips. I was a sight, crumbled on the ground, head and shoulder rolled up against the garage door, bike on top of me. I am that guy.
I love my bike and I look forward to long rides, some fast, some slow. I will master this two wheeled beast and find some level of competition to test myself. Help will be there and I will take all I can get. In the meantime I will continue to work on my running comeback and swimming. Come ride with me - you know you want too!
There was sort of a plan in place to ride our new bikes after swim. I was looking forward to riding with Sharon. She's learned a lot about biking and would push me. Being somewhat of a newbie on the bike I knew I needed that. I could picture her ahead of me turning her head to see where I was only to be disgusted that I was falling behind. "Jesxx Fucxxx Chxxxx, are you some little pusxx boy or what? Pick it up or I'll drop you where you stand (or ride in this case)." Lol! Actually she is very supportive as her runners have learned. She's a teacher first - but don't hold back with her - she can get the best out of you.
I rode in to the Y in a light rain and as I rolled up I was nervous that I'd crash. You see I have these clips and shoes and once in them you can't get out unless you twist your heal to the outside. Everyone falls. That's the stories I've heard and I wasn't about to be that guy. I coasted to a stop, twisted my heal to the right and it popped right out - like a pro! After talking with Sharon it was clear that our schedules weren't going to line up and I'd be on my own. Some of the group went to spin and the rest of us to the pool (oh goody). Hey now, I am getting better. Still use the fins but the lifeguards occasionally watch someone else. Progress!!
I take many rest breaks in the pool and today was no different. Sharon and Robin were in the lane next to me and for 60+ minutes they swam back and forth without stopping - amazing. Paula was a lane over and had a similar performance. Mauricio and I would glance at each other and smile as we rested, though it was unspoken, we felt lucky to have each other in a swimming world where the woman were smokin it. After a lifetime in the pool I changed and headed out on my bike.
I clipped in and was off. It was great! The shoes and clips take getting used to. You pull your foot up and the pedal comes with - how cool is that! I think there is some benefit there that I need to capture. I'm sure there is a way to increase ones power or reduce fatigue, or both. The shifters were another thing altogether. My old bike had levers down below the handle bars. This bike has them integrated into the brakes so you simply click them one way to move up the other to move down. Sounds easy but it must have been opposite day cause I struggled. The Biking Gods must have been ready to send down training wheels.
I stopped multiple times due to traffic and each time I clipped out like a champ. I biked a loop three times and loved it. I was flying, smiling, and had my quads not begun to burn, would have stayed on the road longer. But enough is enough and I didn't to push it on day one. I was also a little worried about the after effects of the bicycle seat if you know what I mean. I'm not saying I have a tender tush but a guys gotta be careful. So I turned for home and rounded the corner to my house. On the corner was a neighbor walking her dog. We toss a couple "hi's " as I slow into my driveway. She calls out "Hey, I started running again and plan on doing the Seattle Rock n Roll". I reply "Great!" and at the same time stop the bike and take my foot off the pedal. Oh yeah, I'm clipped in. My foot won't come off the pedal. As I begin to fall and slam first against my garage door en route to the aggregate driveway, I hear a long slow Ssssshiiiiiiit rolling off my lips. I was a sight, crumbled on the ground, head and shoulder rolled up against the garage door, bike on top of me. I am that guy.
I love my bike and I look forward to long rides, some fast, some slow. I will master this two wheeled beast and find some level of competition to test myself. Help will be there and I will take all I can get. In the meantime I will continue to work on my running comeback and swimming. Come ride with me - you know you want too!
Saturday, May 21, 2011
Lord Hill
My friend Steve has been running Lord Hill for some time now. Frankly when he talked about the place it really didn't sound all that great. Anything with "hill" in it should cause one to slightly tilt the head, raise an eyebrow, and very slowly nod your head up and down as if in agreement while your inside voice is saying "there's no way in hell I would ever do that." That was me. That was then. Today I succumbed to peer pressure. Today I ran Lord Hill.
Those who know me are aware that I like things neat and tidy...organized...structured....predictable...and maybe I like to feel a bit in control (even if I'm not). When out of this element I've been called snarky. Snarky has two definitions and I know this because I just looked it up. Here's the first - irritable, short tempered. The second - a witty mannerism. There might be more to the second one that I am accidentally leaving out. Omission. Oops. I will tag myself with the second definition after a short trip to my happy place. Irritable simply does not describe me. Stop it. I'm not listening. La la la la la la la la la la.....
We arrived at Lord Hill and I admit it looks pretty good from what I can see. Oh by the way, Dan joined us today - how cool was that. Though he would never brag about his abilities, he could....all day long! Swimmer, runner, biker - excelling in every one. In case you're wondering, he's on the long bus. Anyway, after some short directions, tips on what to do if you see a cougar or a bear, looking at the drawing of a young man known to flash hikers (with a note to call 911 after belly laughing at what he believes to be something worthwhile to see when we would all wonder how long he'd been in the pool), we headed off into the forest.
This is where we start to split up due to pacing, duration of one's run, whether you walk, jog, run, or some combination of the three. Lately I start with a short 2-3 minute walk. By the time I started running the gang had all but disappeared. The first mile was fairly crappy. Up hill and rocky - oh sweet, how fun! Once I got my thick head around the fact that this was going to be different, it would be hilly, the terrain unknown, I figured maybe I should stop being a little cry baby and suck it up like everyone else. Sometimes I don't know where my complaining comes from. If you do please call me. 1.800.didyouthinkIreallywantedyouropinion. Operators are standing by....
In no time I was running alone. Being unfamiliar with the trail, I did my best to take note of various landmarks - streams, logs, small dead animals laying face up, as well as key mental notes of the right and left hand turns. All the while staying with my strict diet of 3 minutes of walking for every 7 minutes of running. Every now and then I would see teammates running along, otherwise it was quiet. Lord Hill is a very dense forest. You cannot see your way out nor is one really sure what direction you are going - I am directionally impaired it appears. I got lost...
Frickin pooper. I turned at 30 minutes and started my way back. I was confident that I would make all the correct turns and in the beginning I did. Yes, I recall that tree stump. There's the stream. Easy peasy lemon squeezey baby. There's a fork up ahead. Which way did I come from? Ah....I think the left looks correct. Yup, left. Apparently left was wrong. After an ugly hill and some distance I came upon a familiar site - a bench and table. Trouble was it was the same bench and table I had run past much earlier during my initial 30 minutes. Oops, not good. I turned around and ran back, flipped down a different trail and ran for a bit and hit another hill (hills were all over). I nearly had to crawl up this one and I was feeling better because it looked familiar. Cresting the top and running little further I found another familiar site - that same frickin bench and table. My third time past it. I was screwed. Five minutes earlier I had seen Mike running the opposite direction so I turned and ran fast to catch up. Made it down the hill and he was no where in sight.
Crap. I stopped and looked around and realized that I had no idea where I was and no idea which trail to take. I felt some panic swell up inside of me - recall the control and predictability I like - that was flushed down the toilet now. I called out a couple times in hope that a voice would spring out though the woods and I would have a direction to follow. Nothing. So I ran. Up hills, around bend after bend, searching for my exit. Eventually I came across the right trail which had the small rodent laying there feet up - it was a great feeling to know I was back on track. I might have bent down to kiss the little guy if it wasn't for all the flies and bugs crawling on it.
The sign at the corner told me .4 miles to the entrance. I was home free. Before I knew it I was popping out of the forest and saw the short bus gang waiting for me. I was wiped. Hills are great training and the forest is truly beautiful. Good call Steve. Next time I will run with a backpack complete with a compass, snack, waterproof matches, and a flare gun. Or maybe it would be smarter to simply run with a buddy....
Those who know me are aware that I like things neat and tidy...organized...structured....predictable...and maybe I like to feel a bit in control (even if I'm not). When out of this element I've been called snarky. Snarky has two definitions and I know this because I just looked it up. Here's the first - irritable, short tempered. The second - a witty mannerism. There might be more to the second one that I am accidentally leaving out. Omission. Oops. I will tag myself with the second definition after a short trip to my happy place. Irritable simply does not describe me. Stop it. I'm not listening. La la la la la la la la la la.....
We arrived at Lord Hill and I admit it looks pretty good from what I can see. Oh by the way, Dan joined us today - how cool was that. Though he would never brag about his abilities, he could....all day long! Swimmer, runner, biker - excelling in every one. In case you're wondering, he's on the long bus. Anyway, after some short directions, tips on what to do if you see a cougar or a bear, looking at the drawing of a young man known to flash hikers (with a note to call 911 after belly laughing at what he believes to be something worthwhile to see when we would all wonder how long he'd been in the pool), we headed off into the forest.
This is where we start to split up due to pacing, duration of one's run, whether you walk, jog, run, or some combination of the three. Lately I start with a short 2-3 minute walk. By the time I started running the gang had all but disappeared. The first mile was fairly crappy. Up hill and rocky - oh sweet, how fun! Once I got my thick head around the fact that this was going to be different, it would be hilly, the terrain unknown, I figured maybe I should stop being a little cry baby and suck it up like everyone else. Sometimes I don't know where my complaining comes from. If you do please call me. 1.800.didyouthinkIreallywantedyouropinion. Operators are standing by....
In no time I was running alone. Being unfamiliar with the trail, I did my best to take note of various landmarks - streams, logs, small dead animals laying face up, as well as key mental notes of the right and left hand turns. All the while staying with my strict diet of 3 minutes of walking for every 7 minutes of running. Every now and then I would see teammates running along, otherwise it was quiet. Lord Hill is a very dense forest. You cannot see your way out nor is one really sure what direction you are going - I am directionally impaired it appears. I got lost...
Frickin pooper. I turned at 30 minutes and started my way back. I was confident that I would make all the correct turns and in the beginning I did. Yes, I recall that tree stump. There's the stream. Easy peasy lemon squeezey baby. There's a fork up ahead. Which way did I come from? Ah....I think the left looks correct. Yup, left. Apparently left was wrong. After an ugly hill and some distance I came upon a familiar site - a bench and table. Trouble was it was the same bench and table I had run past much earlier during my initial 30 minutes. Oops, not good. I turned around and ran back, flipped down a different trail and ran for a bit and hit another hill (hills were all over). I nearly had to crawl up this one and I was feeling better because it looked familiar. Cresting the top and running little further I found another familiar site - that same frickin bench and table. My third time past it. I was screwed. Five minutes earlier I had seen Mike running the opposite direction so I turned and ran fast to catch up. Made it down the hill and he was no where in sight.
Crap. I stopped and looked around and realized that I had no idea where I was and no idea which trail to take. I felt some panic swell up inside of me - recall the control and predictability I like - that was flushed down the toilet now. I called out a couple times in hope that a voice would spring out though the woods and I would have a direction to follow. Nothing. So I ran. Up hills, around bend after bend, searching for my exit. Eventually I came across the right trail which had the small rodent laying there feet up - it was a great feeling to know I was back on track. I might have bent down to kiss the little guy if it wasn't for all the flies and bugs crawling on it.
The sign at the corner told me .4 miles to the entrance. I was home free. Before I knew it I was popping out of the forest and saw the short bus gang waiting for me. I was wiped. Hills are great training and the forest is truly beautiful. Good call Steve. Next time I will run with a backpack complete with a compass, snack, waterproof matches, and a flare gun. Or maybe it would be smarter to simply run with a buddy....
Saturday, May 14, 2011
Run Free
I ran the trail today, 60 minutes in fact. Before you get all overly impressed, note that I ran what I call 4/6's - 4 minutes of walking followed by 6 minutes of running. Repeating this for an hour works out to be 24 minutes walking, 36 running. Oh baby look at me go! Did I burst your bubble? Are you asking yourself wasn't Michael a runner once? What happen to him? Oh yeah, I think he 'used to' run. Yeah yeah yeah whatever...I'm still here so don't write me off just yet. Just going through a bit of rehab - nothing like the Betty Ford Clinic or anything (though it was a close call with those little yellow pills). In fact I got to ride to the trail with the long bus team - Wendy, Kyle the Giant, and Sharon. I'll be a long bus runner again so save me a seat. I'd like the exact one I had today please.
Freaky thing about having minor injuries is that just prior to moving from a walk to a run you get nervous. Will I be ok? Will my hip, knee, foot, ankle, toe, belly button hurt? The first few steps speak volumes and to a degree dictate your run or lack thereof. As my first 4 minutes concluded my foot landed and the crunch of pea gravel yielded no negative shock waves. The next step hit the dirt followed by another and another. Still nervous but I felt pretty good. My hip (it's really my right butt cheek but 'hip' is so much more family friendly) was a little tight however no pain radiated from that tush. My knee was ok.
I ran alone but knew my friends were out there with me, running the various trails. Eventually paths cross and you toss a head nod, raise a hand to wave, or mutter "looking good" - we say that to each other no matter how sad, tired, ragged, or beat one actually looks. It's a bit more motivating than "Hey Michael you look like crap, sure are breathing hard their buddy, this run sure is beating the hell out of you today"...Support, gotta love it.
15 minutes in to the run I saw Steve coming toward me. I was ready for a quick "looking good" but instead he pointed to a trail head and asked if I'd been on it. I replied that I hadn't and asked if he had. "Nope" was his response followed by a "let's take it". We slide through the gate and the Lewis and Clark expedition was on. I had about a minute left on my walk segment as I watched Steve scamper away. Scamper probably isn't the right word choice. Steve ran. He has been on the injured reserved list for some time and I really haven't ran with him. Seeing him run down the twisting trail was cool. He looked like I always thought he would. Great form, focused, a bit of a smile on his face. Though I had nothing to do with his recovery, I couldn't help smiling seeing him run. He worked hard to get to where he is today - rock on Steve, you looked great!!
The new trail was peaceful, even tranquil. Thinner than most of the trails with a creek popping up here and there. I turned off the music and listened to the water flow and the birds chatting up a storm. How cool it was. And what is this? I'm not hurting! Maybe I should walk less, run more, run faster...no Michael, stay with the plan. It wasn't easy but I did. Finished up the run in about 65 minutes and the gang was already there stretching out. Stretching is critical and there's always chatter about the run. Seems that the running gods were smiling on us today as everyone felt pretty good. I had to skip Starbucks so I could get straight home and ice everything that had potential to rebel. Though I missed that, I had a great conversation with Becky who was kind enough to offer me a non-stop ticket home at no additional charge. Becky has made amazing progress in a very short time, logged a couple 5k's already and will only get faster. Her fantastic attitude drives her success - quite impressive. I also learned that my kids weren't the only ones to complete their homework only to forget to turn it in!!
After a very necessary shower, a nutrition clinic, trips to Run26 and Gregg's Cycle, a birthday drop off, and a stop at Starbucks, I was back home. Now I sit here writing this blog with ice wrapped around my knee just to be safe. It has been a great day - thank you. Thank you for the smiles, the laughs, the sunshine. I'm open to many many more days like today.
Freaky thing about having minor injuries is that just prior to moving from a walk to a run you get nervous. Will I be ok? Will my hip, knee, foot, ankle, toe, belly button hurt? The first few steps speak volumes and to a degree dictate your run or lack thereof. As my first 4 minutes concluded my foot landed and the crunch of pea gravel yielded no negative shock waves. The next step hit the dirt followed by another and another. Still nervous but I felt pretty good. My hip (it's really my right butt cheek but 'hip' is so much more family friendly) was a little tight however no pain radiated from that tush. My knee was ok.
I ran alone but knew my friends were out there with me, running the various trails. Eventually paths cross and you toss a head nod, raise a hand to wave, or mutter "looking good" - we say that to each other no matter how sad, tired, ragged, or beat one actually looks. It's a bit more motivating than "Hey Michael you look like crap, sure are breathing hard their buddy, this run sure is beating the hell out of you today"...Support, gotta love it.
15 minutes in to the run I saw Steve coming toward me. I was ready for a quick "looking good" but instead he pointed to a trail head and asked if I'd been on it. I replied that I hadn't and asked if he had. "Nope" was his response followed by a "let's take it". We slide through the gate and the Lewis and Clark expedition was on. I had about a minute left on my walk segment as I watched Steve scamper away. Scamper probably isn't the right word choice. Steve ran. He has been on the injured reserved list for some time and I really haven't ran with him. Seeing him run down the twisting trail was cool. He looked like I always thought he would. Great form, focused, a bit of a smile on his face. Though I had nothing to do with his recovery, I couldn't help smiling seeing him run. He worked hard to get to where he is today - rock on Steve, you looked great!!
The new trail was peaceful, even tranquil. Thinner than most of the trails with a creek popping up here and there. I turned off the music and listened to the water flow and the birds chatting up a storm. How cool it was. And what is this? I'm not hurting! Maybe I should walk less, run more, run faster...no Michael, stay with the plan. It wasn't easy but I did. Finished up the run in about 65 minutes and the gang was already there stretching out. Stretching is critical and there's always chatter about the run. Seems that the running gods were smiling on us today as everyone felt pretty good. I had to skip Starbucks so I could get straight home and ice everything that had potential to rebel. Though I missed that, I had a great conversation with Becky who was kind enough to offer me a non-stop ticket home at no additional charge. Becky has made amazing progress in a very short time, logged a couple 5k's already and will only get faster. Her fantastic attitude drives her success - quite impressive. I also learned that my kids weren't the only ones to complete their homework only to forget to turn it in!!
After a very necessary shower, a nutrition clinic, trips to Run26 and Gregg's Cycle, a birthday drop off, and a stop at Starbucks, I was back home. Now I sit here writing this blog with ice wrapped around my knee just to be safe. It has been a great day - thank you. Thank you for the smiles, the laughs, the sunshine. I'm open to many many more days like today.
Sunday, May 8, 2011
Endurance
I knew Saturday would be a long day. It was one of those days you look forward to but slightly dread at the same time. From a workout perspective I would do nothing - yes, my recovery is slow and therefore Running would continue it's merry little vacation. Fear not, once 'vacation' is over, Running will get it's butt kicked once more. Yup, lil' booty kickin comin on down (word choice clearly influenced by Heavy B). Saturday's line up went something like this - Invest in Youth garage sale 6:30 - 2:00, Power Bar clinic at 4:00 followed by a bike clinic at Gregg's Cycle in Lynnwood.
Garage Sales - they can be a love/hate relationship. The set up and take down sucks while the in-between can be tolerated. There is so much prep work involved - yikes! Robin volunteered her house and the Multisport and Tri team stepped up to donate items, price, and man the sale. It was quite impressive to see so many people help out. Sharon's daughters No one claims to ever go there yet the parking lot is always full. Interesting....I had a blast. Oddly I seem to enjoy "selling" at garage sales. You see someone eyeing an item and you slide right in for the kill. It doesn't always work but you can have fun regardless. Or is it irregardless? At any rate, before I knew it the clock showed 1:30 and it was time to blast. I knew the remaining teammates would be doing the take down and pack up - yuck. I would say better them than me but they'll likely read this blog so I'll keep that to myself :)
Power Bar clinic. Sharon set us up with the regional Power Bar rep Laura and the clinic was at my house - easy for me! Laura is quite the athlete and has competed in the Ironman in Kona (impressive!) and every time I've met her her is up and energized. She's a twenty something kid that loves what she does and it shows. She whipped up some protein shakes, gave us a quiz (which I sucked at), and had boxes of free samples for us. The information was timely and we appreciated her coming out. I don't know if she expected to have leftover samples but once the dust settled and we stepped away from the table, there was nothing left but torn cardboard packages and a lone water bottle rolling toward safety. I love free!!! As she left she slid me a container of Ironman Perform - oh yeah baby, I will be kickin da booty...
Gregg's Cycle bike clinic. Sweet mother....impressive. This was after hours so it was only us and Rob (manager) and Andrew (elite biker). First off, they had a spread of food for us - laid out in a well organized color coded cup and napkin manner. Did they know I was coming? Then there was a row of the most incredible bikes I have ever seen. Trek, Cervelo, Specialized....wow, they were cool. Rob talked about the differences between bikes and during his presentation I decided that a road bike would be my choice. A friend has a deal on a bike for me but once I was fitted it was clear that the 56 would be too big for me as I am a 51-52. A bike is a big deal to me because I have decided to compete in a duathlon (run/bike/run). Similar to a triathlon except you run twice and there is no water. No water. Wait! I have not given up on a Tri and I swim twice a week to try and 'get it'. Rob found a new 2010 model with a deep discount he'll get to the store and Wednesday night I will ride a few bikes and see what happens. I will buy one. Then bike clipless pedals....then bike shoes....then a helmet....then bike shorts to protect my, er...my valuables. Yes, feel free to send your donations today. It appears that I will be eating tuna from a can for a while! However, I believe that if I can be competitive on the bike for my age division, I can do pretty well in the duathlon as I'm not too bad in the running category. I really appreciated Gregg's and specifically Rob for opening his store to us and for all he has done to help us.
Of course a monster thank you goes out to Sharon for setting these clinics up for us. Not just these two but all the ones we're had and those coming down the road. I could mention the vast list of partners she has set up for us but the list is way too long. She does this on her own time without the thought or purpose of personal gain. She excels at creating relationships that are symbiotic in nature and is quite the business woman. I'm glad she's the one driving the program and appreciate all those who help her as well as those who are participating in the programs - together the journey will be both fun and amazing. This year will challenge my fitness and mental strength. I know there will be setbacks as that is part of the game we play. I will give it my best, support my friends, and for you - I'm all in.
Garage Sales - they can be a love/hate relationship. The set up and take down sucks while the in-between can be tolerated. There is so much prep work involved - yikes! Robin volunteered her house and the Multisport and Tri team stepped up to donate items, price, and man the sale. It was quite impressive to see so many people help out. Sharon's daughters No one claims to ever go there yet the parking lot is always full. Interesting....I had a blast. Oddly I seem to enjoy "selling" at garage sales. You see someone eyeing an item and you slide right in for the kill. It doesn't always work but you can have fun regardless. Or is it irregardless? At any rate, before I knew it the clock showed 1:30 and it was time to blast. I knew the remaining teammates would be doing the take down and pack up - yuck. I would say better them than me but they'll likely read this blog so I'll keep that to myself :)
Power Bar clinic. Sharon set us up with the regional Power Bar rep Laura and the clinic was at my house - easy for me! Laura is quite the athlete and has competed in the Ironman in Kona (impressive!) and every time I've met her her is up and energized. She's a twenty something kid that loves what she does and it shows. She whipped up some protein shakes, gave us a quiz (which I sucked at), and had boxes of free samples for us. The information was timely and we appreciated her coming out. I don't know if she expected to have leftover samples but once the dust settled and we stepped away from the table, there was nothing left but torn cardboard packages and a lone water bottle rolling toward safety. I love free!!! As she left she slid me a container of Ironman Perform - oh yeah baby, I will be kickin da booty...
Gregg's Cycle bike clinic. Sweet mother....impressive. This was after hours so it was only us and Rob (manager) and Andrew (elite biker). First off, they had a spread of food for us - laid out in a well organized color coded cup and napkin manner. Did they know I was coming? Then there was a row of the most incredible bikes I have ever seen. Trek, Cervelo, Specialized....wow, they were cool. Rob talked about the differences between bikes and during his presentation I decided that a road bike would be my choice. A friend has a deal on a bike for me but once I was fitted it was clear that the 56 would be too big for me as I am a 51-52. A bike is a big deal to me because I have decided to compete in a duathlon (run/bike/run). Similar to a triathlon except you run twice and there is no water. No water. Wait! I have not given up on a Tri and I swim twice a week to try and 'get it'. Rob found a new 2010 model with a deep discount he'll get to the store and Wednesday night I will ride a few bikes and see what happens. I will buy one. Then bike clipless pedals....then bike shoes....then a helmet....then bike shorts to protect my, er...my valuables. Yes, feel free to send your donations today. It appears that I will be eating tuna from a can for a while! However, I believe that if I can be competitive on the bike for my age division, I can do pretty well in the duathlon as I'm not too bad in the running category. I really appreciated Gregg's and specifically Rob for opening his store to us and for all he has done to help us.
Of course a monster thank you goes out to Sharon for setting these clinics up for us. Not just these two but all the ones we're had and those coming down the road. I could mention the vast list of partners she has set up for us but the list is way too long. She does this on her own time without the thought or purpose of personal gain. She excels at creating relationships that are symbiotic in nature and is quite the business woman. I'm glad she's the one driving the program and appreciate all those who help her as well as those who are participating in the programs - together the journey will be both fun and amazing. This year will challenge my fitness and mental strength. I know there will be setbacks as that is part of the game we play. I will give it my best, support my friends, and for you - I'm all in.
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Knock on Wood
My blogs reflect how I feel and what I think. Often they reflect a moment in time - a slice of how I feel that day. Other times it's something deeper, something that pulsates through me that I cannot control - I have to write about it in my own way. I proof them a couple times before before I hit the publish button. Sometimes I laugh. Sometimes I cry. Sometimes both. Once or twice I might have uttered the words "stick that in your pipe and smoke it" (my dad used that phrase from time to time). Lately the feedback is that my blogs are a tad angry and have one too many colorful words in them. True....and false. Ok, maybe more true than false. You will not find a single dirty, colorful, toilet bound word in my blog today.
I ran yesterday. Hee hee (see, happy not angry). 82 minutes of walking for two minutes, running for six, repeating until done. It wasn't about speed. It wasn't about form. It wasn't about training for a future race. Good Golly Miss Molly it wasn't even about hitting a certain mileage target. I just ran. I felt pretty good after the run - stretched and rolled after just to maintain my routine of prevention/recovery. Funny how you think all about prevention when you have an injury and tend to let it slip your mind when you feel fine. Why do we do this? Maybe because prevention takes time - which few of us have in surplus. I am now a believer. It has been preached to me for some time (Sharon) and reiterated by Dr Annie during my active release sessions. Will I continue to listen or will my thick head push it down to the recesses of my brain where the unimportant stuff resides? Stuff you don't really need but somehow feel like you have to keep it -who won the World Series in 89, geometry, always put the lid down when you're done, "i" before "e" except after...after...rats....
The run. I felt great. Knock on wood. Why knock on wood? We do that for luck. We do it because we are superstitious. We do it to ward off the evil of bad luck. I knocked on wood while wondering how I would feel later in the day and more important - the next day. Well here it is, day two. How do I feel? Pretty good I must say. The areas previously causing me to whimper and ask for my mommy feel ok today. I know they are there lurking in the background but they are in the background. That's where they will stay. Knock on wood. My calves are a tad sore but that's not really unexpected as the nearly 7 miles was the greatest distance I have traveled since early March.
Ok, one short story about my run. Though there were many of us running yesterday I ran alone - that's what happens when you walk/run. Also, I kind of like it. I love my fellow runners - love them! However at times you need to experience the trail alone. I ran the normal route and took a couple new trails which turned out to be pretty cool. Then I had to pee. When peeing in the woods one needs to find the perfect tree. A tree large enough to hide what is taking place is good. You also want to find one that gives you line of sight both in front and behind you so you know if anyone is coming. I struggled to find that tree and my bladder was very very close to release. Not having seen a soul for a while, I settled for a skinny little tree at the bend of the trail - just to be clear, I am not a skinny little tree guy. I'd be safer peeing in the California Redwoods....just sayin....Anyway, I am well into my ah..my bladder relief process when four girls run by. Where did they come from??? Each one about 5 yards back from the next. None of them moving very fast at all. Great. Mikey, a way too skinny tree, and endless pee that cannot be shut off. Hi girls....I'd wave but I'm a little busy right now....oh yes, beautiful day for a run.....no no, I'm fine, thanks anyway....
There is more than my running to knock on wood about. Things much more important. Taylor is having fewer seizures - knock on wood. Cameron made the Deans List and is doing great in school - knock on wood. My mom is not yet on dialysis and maybe she can avoid that - knock on wood. The sunbeam that warmed my face has also warmed my soul and I'd like it to stay with me forever - knock on wood. For my fellow injured runners, may today be a good day and tomorrow even better - knock on wood. To those uninjured, may you stay that way and run like the wind - knock on wood (and do your injury prevention exercises daily). Well what do you know? A happy blog with zero...count them zero...bad words (pee doesn't count).
* This blog has been rated G by the Blog Association of America a fully owned subsidy of the Motion Picture Association of America.
I ran yesterday. Hee hee (see, happy not angry). 82 minutes of walking for two minutes, running for six, repeating until done. It wasn't about speed. It wasn't about form. It wasn't about training for a future race. Good Golly Miss Molly it wasn't even about hitting a certain mileage target. I just ran. I felt pretty good after the run - stretched and rolled after just to maintain my routine of prevention/recovery. Funny how you think all about prevention when you have an injury and tend to let it slip your mind when you feel fine. Why do we do this? Maybe because prevention takes time - which few of us have in surplus. I am now a believer. It has been preached to me for some time (Sharon) and reiterated by Dr Annie during my active release sessions. Will I continue to listen or will my thick head push it down to the recesses of my brain where the unimportant stuff resides? Stuff you don't really need but somehow feel like you have to keep it -who won the World Series in 89, geometry, always put the lid down when you're done, "i" before "e" except after...after...rats....
The run. I felt great. Knock on wood. Why knock on wood? We do that for luck. We do it because we are superstitious. We do it to ward off the evil of bad luck. I knocked on wood while wondering how I would feel later in the day and more important - the next day. Well here it is, day two. How do I feel? Pretty good I must say. The areas previously causing me to whimper and ask for my mommy feel ok today. I know they are there lurking in the background but they are in the background. That's where they will stay. Knock on wood. My calves are a tad sore but that's not really unexpected as the nearly 7 miles was the greatest distance I have traveled since early March.
Ok, one short story about my run. Though there were many of us running yesterday I ran alone - that's what happens when you walk/run. Also, I kind of like it. I love my fellow runners - love them! However at times you need to experience the trail alone. I ran the normal route and took a couple new trails which turned out to be pretty cool. Then I had to pee. When peeing in the woods one needs to find the perfect tree. A tree large enough to hide what is taking place is good. You also want to find one that gives you line of sight both in front and behind you so you know if anyone is coming. I struggled to find that tree and my bladder was very very close to release. Not having seen a soul for a while, I settled for a skinny little tree at the bend of the trail - just to be clear, I am not a skinny little tree guy. I'd be safer peeing in the California Redwoods....just sayin....Anyway, I am well into my ah..my bladder relief process when four girls run by. Where did they come from??? Each one about 5 yards back from the next. None of them moving very fast at all. Great. Mikey, a way too skinny tree, and endless pee that cannot be shut off. Hi girls....I'd wave but I'm a little busy right now....oh yes, beautiful day for a run.....no no, I'm fine, thanks anyway....
There is more than my running to knock on wood about. Things much more important. Taylor is having fewer seizures - knock on wood. Cameron made the Deans List and is doing great in school - knock on wood. My mom is not yet on dialysis and maybe she can avoid that - knock on wood. The sunbeam that warmed my face has also warmed my soul and I'd like it to stay with me forever - knock on wood. For my fellow injured runners, may today be a good day and tomorrow even better - knock on wood. To those uninjured, may you stay that way and run like the wind - knock on wood (and do your injury prevention exercises daily). Well what do you know? A happy blog with zero...count them zero...bad words (pee doesn't count).
* This blog has been rated G by the Blog Association of America a fully owned subsidy of the Motion Picture Association of America.
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Driving with the brakes on
I am not a happy man today. My frustration level is off the charts. Not at you nor with you, but at myself. My recovery is simply not moving forward at a rate my brain acknowledges as movement. It's pace is like that of a glacier (less the global warming should you subscribe to that). It's like driving with the brakes on. I know, we all get injured, we all have stories, we all recover. Fine, tell me more, please oh please. I'll package it up and send it to some kid in Argentina - it doesn't help him either. You might think me pissy right now - maybe you don't like me - or maybe, just maybe you understand. Will that person step forward and raise their hand. A little higher please, I can't quite see it....
Have you even driven with one foot on the gas while resting the other gently on the brake? The fuel or energy you burn isn't the same. You need to expend more only to get less from it. Your progress is slowed. You are working against yourself and your engine pays the price. My engine I fear is fucked. Maybe it's worse - maybe the whole thing is totaled. That would be impossible I believe since I've not been in a wreak. I admit that there are enough parts and pieces of me that don't feel quite right that the repo man would drive right by figuring the remaining value isn't worth his effort. Come on Mikey, don't be that way. You're just feeling sorry for yourself. Really? I want to frickin run, lose weight, look in the mirror and count more than one ab. No, I'm not pregnant, just retaining a little water this week....but thanks for asking....jerk.
Here's the thing, sunshine is magic. Huh? Where the hell is he going with this? Another little yellow pill perhaps (NO!). Keep your pants on, I'm getting to it. Never...never before have I started a blog, walked away from it for hours then came back to finish. It's normally a sit on down and it just flows out - done. Today was different. I had knocked out the first two paragraphs when a sunbeam fell upon my face. It offered me a getaway, an escape. It's warmth was soothing, calming, and irresistible. My pain had not disappeared yet it was not the same poison that was pumping through my mind and body just minutes earlier. The sunbeam took me outside and carried me off. I was now on a journey. Hours flew by like minutes and my frustration began to melt away. Funny thing about that sunbeam - it never left me alone, never let my smile fade, it just stayed with me. Maybe my mind was playing tricks on me but it might have even smiled back. I have always fancied sunbeams but this one was different. I must say I love that sunbeam.
Now the fact remains that I am having a dickins of a time getting all my parts and pieces working correctly. I know that this journey will force my emotions to ebb and flow until I am cured or I simply become used to the agitations my body inflicts on me. I will work on one thing at a time and maybe, maybe quit being so impatient. Those who know me also know that patience is not my strength. When I whine will you call me a PAMF or will you baby my feelings? Please don't baby me. Drive me. Crush me. Make my competitive side reach deep to find the things I can do while my body makes repairs to those areas in trouble. These small victories will help and who knows, maybe all this shit is tied together and something will click and all will be as it should be. That day I fear is not tomorrow nor the day after. I know it's out there though, it has to be. Until then I sure hope that sunbeam doesn't go anywhere. I'd like it to stay forever.
Have you even driven with one foot on the gas while resting the other gently on the brake? The fuel or energy you burn isn't the same. You need to expend more only to get less from it. Your progress is slowed. You are working against yourself and your engine pays the price. My engine I fear is fucked. Maybe it's worse - maybe the whole thing is totaled. That would be impossible I believe since I've not been in a wreak. I admit that there are enough parts and pieces of me that don't feel quite right that the repo man would drive right by figuring the remaining value isn't worth his effort. Come on Mikey, don't be that way. You're just feeling sorry for yourself. Really? I want to frickin run, lose weight, look in the mirror and count more than one ab. No, I'm not pregnant, just retaining a little water this week....but thanks for asking....jerk.
Here's the thing, sunshine is magic. Huh? Where the hell is he going with this? Another little yellow pill perhaps (NO!). Keep your pants on, I'm getting to it. Never...never before have I started a blog, walked away from it for hours then came back to finish. It's normally a sit on down and it just flows out - done. Today was different. I had knocked out the first two paragraphs when a sunbeam fell upon my face. It offered me a getaway, an escape. It's warmth was soothing, calming, and irresistible. My pain had not disappeared yet it was not the same poison that was pumping through my mind and body just minutes earlier. The sunbeam took me outside and carried me off. I was now on a journey. Hours flew by like minutes and my frustration began to melt away. Funny thing about that sunbeam - it never left me alone, never let my smile fade, it just stayed with me. Maybe my mind was playing tricks on me but it might have even smiled back. I have always fancied sunbeams but this one was different. I must say I love that sunbeam.
Now the fact remains that I am having a dickins of a time getting all my parts and pieces working correctly. I know that this journey will force my emotions to ebb and flow until I am cured or I simply become used to the agitations my body inflicts on me. I will work on one thing at a time and maybe, maybe quit being so impatient. Those who know me also know that patience is not my strength. When I whine will you call me a PAMF or will you baby my feelings? Please don't baby me. Drive me. Crush me. Make my competitive side reach deep to find the things I can do while my body makes repairs to those areas in trouble. These small victories will help and who knows, maybe all this shit is tied together and something will click and all will be as it should be. That day I fear is not tomorrow nor the day after. I know it's out there though, it has to be. Until then I sure hope that sunbeam doesn't go anywhere. I'd like it to stay forever.
Saturday, April 2, 2011
My Little Yellow Pill
Let it be clear that I am not an addict nor do I endorse the use of non prescription drugs. That sounds a lot like a statement made on the last day of rehab. "No, I'm not just saying that to get out of here, I mostly...er...I completely believe it."
Like many great athletes, I have fallen into the trappings that come with too much fame and too much money. Wild sex parties, booze, and drugs. Oh the parties. One party rolls into the next and the next and the next, until one day you roll over and find a goat in your bed. At first you're disgusted but upon further examination you see that the goat actually looks better than some of the women you've been with. The goat mumbles something under its breath , trots off to pick up a six pack and never returns. Bastard.
Maybe it's not been quite like that but I will admit to becoming very friendly with some little yellow pills. You see (here comes my justification) my lower back has been hurting. Hurting to the point where I walk like an ape struggling with constipation. It started to seize up and spasm - too much of that and I'm on the floor for a couple days, unable to stand, unable to move. Who would come and empty my pee cup? Thank you. I know you would and that means a lot to me. On top of this, I just finished rehabbing two very tight muscles that had prevented me from running and had just received the all clear to run. F'ing back. I'd kick my own ass if I wasn't afraid I'd go into a muscle spasm and end up curled up in a ball on the floor crying for my mommy. Hey now, I only did that once so let's stop making such a big deal of it.
I was desperate. In the medicine cabinet I found some pills. Little yellow pills. The bottle indicated that they were to be used for muscle spasms and pain. Oh sweet Jesus, I'm saved! Now the prescription did not have my name on it however, there was something glorious on the bottom - the expiration date had not come and gone. Twenty minutes later I had figured out how to open the child proof cap and emptied a few into the palm of my hand. So innocent were they. Small pretty little yellow pills. Maybe I should try one. Then it came. You know, that little voice inside your head. It did not mince words with me. It said loud and clear - "TAKE ONE"....so I did. It was no big deal at first but hours later I begin to feel different. Not better but different. That was a week ago and I had that same conversation with the little voice every day since that day and it never let me down.
Thursday night I was told I was stoned. Today I went with the group on a trail run. I was going to walk to help loosen my back up. Running due to my F'ing back, was still taking a back seat. At the Y and on the drive to the trail, multiple comments were made about my lack of attention, my staring into nothing, and not quite being myself. Little yellow pill jokes were surfacing. I don't have a problem. I was on the trail for over 90 minutes today, most of it alone. At one point I suddenly begin to feel really good. I mean like nothing hurt, I was almost walking on air. I looked at the trail as it laid out before me and I heard it calling to me. Talking to me. Telling me it was ok to run. Everything would be ok. I kept walking and the road kept reaching up to me. I jogged a bit and we both smiled. Shortly I was around the corner and Anneke, Jen, and Robin were in the car waiting for me. I jogged towards them and slide in the car. Happy.
On the way to Starbucks and while sipping a coffee there, the girls mentioned my looking out into nothing and not being myself. I could feel that I wasn't all there but really could do little about it. Holy F'ing shit balls of fire, those yellow pills might have taken hold of me. I'd been taking them every day trying to get better. I probably had some mini interventions. Sharon had told me I was stoned. Jen and Robin giggled and shared similar words. Anneke said I wasn't myself. Gads...I'm a stoner. I committed to not take any more little yellow pills, nor the large white ones in the bottle next to them. That was hours ago and now I'm writing this blog with an ice pack on my back - yup, going old school. So worry not my friends, Mikey will be back to his old self Sunday morning. Maybe a bit shaky...maybe a bit sore...but he will be himself and really, you have to admit it, don't you just love that guy?!?!
Like many great athletes, I have fallen into the trappings that come with too much fame and too much money. Wild sex parties, booze, and drugs. Oh the parties. One party rolls into the next and the next and the next, until one day you roll over and find a goat in your bed. At first you're disgusted but upon further examination you see that the goat actually looks better than some of the women you've been with. The goat mumbles something under its breath , trots off to pick up a six pack and never returns. Bastard.
Maybe it's not been quite like that but I will admit to becoming very friendly with some little yellow pills. You see (here comes my justification) my lower back has been hurting. Hurting to the point where I walk like an ape struggling with constipation. It started to seize up and spasm - too much of that and I'm on the floor for a couple days, unable to stand, unable to move. Who would come and empty my pee cup? Thank you. I know you would and that means a lot to me. On top of this, I just finished rehabbing two very tight muscles that had prevented me from running and had just received the all clear to run. F'ing back. I'd kick my own ass if I wasn't afraid I'd go into a muscle spasm and end up curled up in a ball on the floor crying for my mommy. Hey now, I only did that once so let's stop making such a big deal of it.
I was desperate. In the medicine cabinet I found some pills. Little yellow pills. The bottle indicated that they were to be used for muscle spasms and pain. Oh sweet Jesus, I'm saved! Now the prescription did not have my name on it however, there was something glorious on the bottom - the expiration date had not come and gone. Twenty minutes later I had figured out how to open the child proof cap and emptied a few into the palm of my hand. So innocent were they. Small pretty little yellow pills. Maybe I should try one. Then it came. You know, that little voice inside your head. It did not mince words with me. It said loud and clear - "TAKE ONE"....so I did. It was no big deal at first but hours later I begin to feel different. Not better but different. That was a week ago and I had that same conversation with the little voice every day since that day and it never let me down.
Thursday night I was told I was stoned. Today I went with the group on a trail run. I was going to walk to help loosen my back up. Running due to my F'ing back, was still taking a back seat. At the Y and on the drive to the trail, multiple comments were made about my lack of attention, my staring into nothing, and not quite being myself. Little yellow pill jokes were surfacing. I don't have a problem. I was on the trail for over 90 minutes today, most of it alone. At one point I suddenly begin to feel really good. I mean like nothing hurt, I was almost walking on air. I looked at the trail as it laid out before me and I heard it calling to me. Talking to me. Telling me it was ok to run. Everything would be ok. I kept walking and the road kept reaching up to me. I jogged a bit and we both smiled. Shortly I was around the corner and Anneke, Jen, and Robin were in the car waiting for me. I jogged towards them and slide in the car. Happy.
On the way to Starbucks and while sipping a coffee there, the girls mentioned my looking out into nothing and not being myself. I could feel that I wasn't all there but really could do little about it. Holy F'ing shit balls of fire, those yellow pills might have taken hold of me. I'd been taking them every day trying to get better. I probably had some mini interventions. Sharon had told me I was stoned. Jen and Robin giggled and shared similar words. Anneke said I wasn't myself. Gads...I'm a stoner. I committed to not take any more little yellow pills, nor the large white ones in the bottle next to them. That was hours ago and now I'm writing this blog with an ice pack on my back - yup, going old school. So worry not my friends, Mikey will be back to his old self Sunday morning. Maybe a bit shaky...maybe a bit sore...but he will be himself and really, you have to admit it, don't you just love that guy?!?!
Monday, March 21, 2011
The Other Side
I have ran many a race in my short four years as a runner. In fact the racing bibs on my wall now tally 37. It may not surprise anyone that I save the bibs. Each one is dated and the finish time etched on the corner, least I forget. A handful have a special notation to indicate a 1st, 2nd, or 3rd place age group win. I'm not the fastest, but in my age group I can often do some damage. Each bib as a story behind it, most also have a blog. All this will help keep me honest when my grandkids ask me how fast I was when I was "young". Let's be clear, when that day comes, I'll still be racing and they'll come see for themselves as their old fart grandpa runs....jogs....wheels....his way across the finish line - no matter how long it takes. "Hey mister, don't take the finish sign down yet, my grandpa is still out there...."
Saturday I was at a 5k. Not as a runner, not as a spectator, but as part of a team putting this race on. While my part was small compared to others, it was the first time I was on the other side. It was also the first time I appreciated what it takes to take a 5k from an idea and turn it into an actual event. Flippin H baby, it's crazy! I wouldn't do it justice to try and list everything that is required because I know I would leave out so much - that's because it takes a village, with each tribe member doing their share to make it happen. The village also needs strong leaders - else you just have a bunch of well intended idiots running around creating havoc...or worse. We had that leadership in Sharon and Dana. Each shared the vision of raising money for a great cause and together they managed to wrangle up some volunteers and put together a plan. Though their styles were different, their hearts were pointed towards the same goal. Without them this race wouldn't have happened and the reality is that some kids would have to go without. Today was not that day however and those two are the reason. Thank you.
Oh, that list of stuff to do? Let's see...humm....Finding a location, getting permission, checking with the appropriate entities about permits and the legal stuff, securing vendors, finding sponsors, obtaining donations of food and goodies for the runners, ordering t-shirts, racing bibs, communicating the event, somehow finding a timing clock and timing gear and the people who knew how to use them, measuring the course, marking the course, securing volunteers to all sorts of duties that most runners take for granted, pre-registration, same day registration, and my friends, that's only half of it. The hours that go into an event like this seem endless.
It came together. The day of the race the clouds parted and we had blue skies above. We all went about our jobs - did I mention we needed to arrive at 6:30am for a 9:30 race? I poo pooed that idea and it turns out that I was wrong. Yup, Mikey was wrong. Dead wrong. There is so much to do on race day! My apologies to those of you who felt my frustration in this regard. I may have been a little snarky...One task I had was to help Steve hang the start/finish sign. One might say that it is a critical task. The day before we eyeballed where we'd put it. Upon further examination on race day, it turned out that we'd have to make an adjustment to make it work. Steve tossed a rope up one tree branch with the skill of a cowboy pulling in a stray steer. In no time we had that sign hung - straight and true. In the meantime, course signs were going up, balloons everywhere, the course re-walked for an accurate measurement, tables set up for registration and vendors, the finish chute and timing station was constructed. Whew....it was something to see. I did manage to grab a donut (two) and chat with some friends and vendors.
The race started only 5 minutes late with some words from the Y about Invest in Youth, some rules regarding the course and safety (me), and the start of the race via a bullhorn (Sharon). Sharon. Bullhorn. Sharon. Bullhorn. I'm not sure those two should have met - she was all over it! OMG she was a natural. It was actually funny to watch her cheer the runners on as they closed in on the finish. She cheered non-stop. At one point she was yelling through it and we realized that the volume was off and it was all her!
Albert and I got to wear these cool timing devices to track the runners when they crossed the finish line. The task was actually easy. Press the orange button each time a runner crosses. Press it once. One time only. Don't press it twice. Frickin hell, I must have an itchy trigger finger cause I double hit it a bunch of times. Albert on the other hand was calm and collected and didn't seem to have a problem at all. Turns out that they used his results and called mine the "backup".....Next year I'll be handing out water.
We had an awards ceremony at the end. Albert's brother Jerry won the race and Carrie (our Y-Tri sister) came in first for the women. Both received a free pair of running shoes from Run26 - how cool is that! Sponsors rock. So much more happen but honestly I don't know what. Once the race started my place was at the finish line, pressing the button and cheering as the runners came in. Runners finished and I'm sure there were celebrations with hugs and high fives. The last runner came in and it was time to clean up the course and pack it in. We hit Starbucks a little tired but happy. The run was a success. Everybody finished. No one got hurt. Everyone seemed to have a great time. I did. I'd do it again. The next race I run I'll be sure and say thank you to as many volunteers as I can. The organizers and volunteers are the heart of any race and I was proud of those I worked with and honored to have been part of something so important.
Saturday I was at a 5k. Not as a runner, not as a spectator, but as part of a team putting this race on. While my part was small compared to others, it was the first time I was on the other side. It was also the first time I appreciated what it takes to take a 5k from an idea and turn it into an actual event. Flippin H baby, it's crazy! I wouldn't do it justice to try and list everything that is required because I know I would leave out so much - that's because it takes a village, with each tribe member doing their share to make it happen. The village also needs strong leaders - else you just have a bunch of well intended idiots running around creating havoc...or worse. We had that leadership in Sharon and Dana. Each shared the vision of raising money for a great cause and together they managed to wrangle up some volunteers and put together a plan. Though their styles were different, their hearts were pointed towards the same goal. Without them this race wouldn't have happened and the reality is that some kids would have to go without. Today was not that day however and those two are the reason. Thank you.
Oh, that list of stuff to do? Let's see...humm....Finding a location, getting permission, checking with the appropriate entities about permits and the legal stuff, securing vendors, finding sponsors, obtaining donations of food and goodies for the runners, ordering t-shirts, racing bibs, communicating the event, somehow finding a timing clock and timing gear and the people who knew how to use them, measuring the course, marking the course, securing volunteers to all sorts of duties that most runners take for granted, pre-registration, same day registration, and my friends, that's only half of it. The hours that go into an event like this seem endless.
It came together. The day of the race the clouds parted and we had blue skies above. We all went about our jobs - did I mention we needed to arrive at 6:30am for a 9:30 race? I poo pooed that idea and it turns out that I was wrong. Yup, Mikey was wrong. Dead wrong. There is so much to do on race day! My apologies to those of you who felt my frustration in this regard. I may have been a little snarky...One task I had was to help Steve hang the start/finish sign. One might say that it is a critical task. The day before we eyeballed where we'd put it. Upon further examination on race day, it turned out that we'd have to make an adjustment to make it work. Steve tossed a rope up one tree branch with the skill of a cowboy pulling in a stray steer. In no time we had that sign hung - straight and true. In the meantime, course signs were going up, balloons everywhere, the course re-walked for an accurate measurement, tables set up for registration and vendors, the finish chute and timing station was constructed. Whew....it was something to see. I did manage to grab a donut (two) and chat with some friends and vendors.
The race started only 5 minutes late with some words from the Y about Invest in Youth, some rules regarding the course and safety (me), and the start of the race via a bullhorn (Sharon). Sharon. Bullhorn. Sharon. Bullhorn. I'm not sure those two should have met - she was all over it! OMG she was a natural. It was actually funny to watch her cheer the runners on as they closed in on the finish. She cheered non-stop. At one point she was yelling through it and we realized that the volume was off and it was all her!
Albert and I got to wear these cool timing devices to track the runners when they crossed the finish line. The task was actually easy. Press the orange button each time a runner crosses. Press it once. One time only. Don't press it twice. Frickin hell, I must have an itchy trigger finger cause I double hit it a bunch of times. Albert on the other hand was calm and collected and didn't seem to have a problem at all. Turns out that they used his results and called mine the "backup".....Next year I'll be handing out water.
We had an awards ceremony at the end. Albert's brother Jerry won the race and Carrie (our Y-Tri sister) came in first for the women. Both received a free pair of running shoes from Run26 - how cool is that! Sponsors rock. So much more happen but honestly I don't know what. Once the race started my place was at the finish line, pressing the button and cheering as the runners came in. Runners finished and I'm sure there were celebrations with hugs and high fives. The last runner came in and it was time to clean up the course and pack it in. We hit Starbucks a little tired but happy. The run was a success. Everybody finished. No one got hurt. Everyone seemed to have a great time. I did. I'd do it again. The next race I run I'll be sure and say thank you to as many volunteers as I can. The organizers and volunteers are the heart of any race and I was proud of those I worked with and honored to have been part of something so important.
Saturday, March 5, 2011
Quicksand
We've all seen it in the movies. Someone falls into quicksand and slowly they get sucked down until one of two things happen - a nearby branch is just close enough that they are able to grab hold and slowly pull themselves from the sure death of suffocation (I'm not sure if one can drown in quicksand). The other is that someone hears their cry for help, comes running and pulls them to safety. If neither of these two scenarios play out, the result is an agonizingly slow demise as your body sinks deeper and deeper and no matter what you do, the end is inevitable. In fact the more you try to do and the more you panic, the quicker you sink. Death then, becomes your salvation. The fight is over.
I fell in quicksand a couple weeks ago. I experienced a minor groin pull. So what - sure easier for you to say because it's not you. Go ahead and say it. Why do you run if you're just going to get hurt? Screw you - I hate it when people say that to me. "They" are normally an out of shape P.A.F. that now feel justified sitting on the couch watching some crap on TV with their hand so deep in the bag of chips that you can no longer see their elbow. Anyway, seems that the issue stemmed from a couple very tight muscles that for whatever reason refuse to release. Bastards. So my running suffered. Sinking now. I reach for my branch which in this case is stretching and abusing my hard foam roller. The roller brings muffled whimpers and tears to my eyes but I know I have to do it. I believe it's helping. I do a couple slow 30 minute jogs. It doesn't feel right. It hurts. I sink further. Deep water conditioning is a great way to stay conditioned if a runner is injured. I can't do deep water. Still sinking. I eat. Why not? I eat crap. Weight gain greets me like an old friend. Not a good friend, an old friend I've meant to forget. With the added pounds my attitude slowly begins to shift. F me. I hate this. I feel like crap. Can I sink any further?
I tried a trail run today, super slow pace for me. We had two groups - the long distance runners and the short bus people. In my head I was one of the long distance runners until halfway through the run Sharon told me I was heading back. It hurt at first. Not physically, but emotionally - and that can hurt more. What do you mean I'm going back, I'm a long distance runner? Not today my friend, not today. I finished the run and my entire quad was searing and I simply could not walk without limping. I can taste the quicksand now.
My friends are running. I love to see them run but honestly it pains me to see their joy. Happy little runners zipping to and fro. Like little hummingbirds. What about me? Hello....I'm over here in the quicksand. Can you see me? I have quicksand up my ass and my head is going under. Isn't anyone going to save me? F me. I'm a goner.
I'm feeling sorry for myself even though I know I'm not alone. Albert was right there talking me off the ledge - he does that quite often and thank God he never tires of it. My multisport friends have been fantastic as well. They care. What's this? Have I stopped sinking? Dr Sharon invited me to her house for a "session". I used the black death roller and having survived that, Sharon came over to me with an interesting device that was then thrust with care into various parts of my quad and butt. I will admit that tears were running down my cheeks and I probably called out for Jesus to take me more than once. She then used the tool like a rolling pin up and down my leg with the pace of a sprinter. FH! I know it bothered her to cause me that much pain but I also know it was necessary and she did it because she cares.
My head has cleared the quicksand. Maybe I'll make it after all. My friends are here and the reality is that they always have been. Maybe I just needed to reach out and take their hand or simply ask for help. I'm not good at either. My leg still hurts and my activities are limited. My goal is not to let it change my attitude but to simply follow the path that will lead me to a full recovery. One that is not rushed nor too slow. In the meantime I ask for forgiveness if I'm a jerk - I don't mean to be. Thank you for your help and compassion - LYLACMF.
I fell in quicksand a couple weeks ago. I experienced a minor groin pull. So what - sure easier for you to say because it's not you. Go ahead and say it. Why do you run if you're just going to get hurt? Screw you - I hate it when people say that to me. "They" are normally an out of shape P.A.F. that now feel justified sitting on the couch watching some crap on TV with their hand so deep in the bag of chips that you can no longer see their elbow. Anyway, seems that the issue stemmed from a couple very tight muscles that for whatever reason refuse to release. Bastards. So my running suffered. Sinking now. I reach for my branch which in this case is stretching and abusing my hard foam roller. The roller brings muffled whimpers and tears to my eyes but I know I have to do it. I believe it's helping. I do a couple slow 30 minute jogs. It doesn't feel right. It hurts. I sink further. Deep water conditioning is a great way to stay conditioned if a runner is injured. I can't do deep water. Still sinking. I eat. Why not? I eat crap. Weight gain greets me like an old friend. Not a good friend, an old friend I've meant to forget. With the added pounds my attitude slowly begins to shift. F me. I hate this. I feel like crap. Can I sink any further?
I tried a trail run today, super slow pace for me. We had two groups - the long distance runners and the short bus people. In my head I was one of the long distance runners until halfway through the run Sharon told me I was heading back. It hurt at first. Not physically, but emotionally - and that can hurt more. What do you mean I'm going back, I'm a long distance runner? Not today my friend, not today. I finished the run and my entire quad was searing and I simply could not walk without limping. I can taste the quicksand now.
My friends are running. I love to see them run but honestly it pains me to see their joy. Happy little runners zipping to and fro. Like little hummingbirds. What about me? Hello....I'm over here in the quicksand. Can you see me? I have quicksand up my ass and my head is going under. Isn't anyone going to save me? F me. I'm a goner.
I'm feeling sorry for myself even though I know I'm not alone. Albert was right there talking me off the ledge - he does that quite often and thank God he never tires of it. My multisport friends have been fantastic as well. They care. What's this? Have I stopped sinking? Dr Sharon invited me to her house for a "session". I used the black death roller and having survived that, Sharon came over to me with an interesting device that was then thrust with care into various parts of my quad and butt. I will admit that tears were running down my cheeks and I probably called out for Jesus to take me more than once. She then used the tool like a rolling pin up and down my leg with the pace of a sprinter. FH! I know it bothered her to cause me that much pain but I also know it was necessary and she did it because she cares.
My head has cleared the quicksand. Maybe I'll make it after all. My friends are here and the reality is that they always have been. Maybe I just needed to reach out and take their hand or simply ask for help. I'm not good at either. My leg still hurts and my activities are limited. My goal is not to let it change my attitude but to simply follow the path that will lead me to a full recovery. One that is not rushed nor too slow. In the meantime I ask for forgiveness if I'm a jerk - I don't mean to be. Thank you for your help and compassion - LYLACMF.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Reunion
Reunions - who cares? I realize that a lot of people do, I just never have. I remember going to my first high school reunion. It was our 10 year (I had skipped the 5 year). I was so unimpressed that it was ridiculous. Hadn't these people grown up and finally understood that everything didn't have to revolve around drinking and dirty jokes? Maybe it was me. After all I didn't blend well in school - I did my own thing and had a very small cluster of friends. My goal was to rock the GPA, graduate early, and get a job. I did. Once I determined that I had enough credits to graduate, it was one short meeting with my counselor and I was out of there - see ya suckers! In less than a month I landed a job with the company I would give 29 years of hard work and loyalty too.
I wasn't very social in high school - never dated - didn't care too. I was there to get out. There were many downsides. One being little dating experience...lots of the people I knew "had been around the block once or twice" (or at least claimed they had) and I'd not quite moved off the sidewalk. Whatever. Looking back I was a bit shy. If a girl wanted to talk to me she better be prepared to start the conversation, keep it rolling, and decide when it was over. My job was to maintain eye contact. Don't let the eyes wander...no...stop...look at her eyes...her eyes...that's better. Another downside was that shifting from high school directly to a full time job (earning the monster sum of $450 a month) required me to attack my college degree at night. The downside to that downside was that it took for frickin forever....the upside, I was making bank....or so it seemed. $450 a month and living at home - sweet baby!
So why this blog about reunions? My best friend from high school called me last week about an upcoming 25 year reunion of our city league soccer team. Many moons ago I played quite a bit of soccer. I wasn't great in terms of skill, but I was fast. They put me in the forward position and our main play was for someone to kick the ball as far as they could and see if I could out run the defender, get the ball first, and score a goal. It wasn't the most strategic plan but it worked well. Sooner or later the other teams would put two guys on me and let's just say the game became a bit rougher. I remember dislocating my jaw in this no contact sport. It was a bitch when the doc popped it back into place...ouch! The day came when we got a real coach who used to play for Manchester United and knew his shit. He moved me to defense using the logic that most Americans shove the fast guys up front so we better have faster guys in the back to cut them off, take the ball and turn it back up field. I loved it! Big guys racing down with the ball and 120 pound Mikey would take the ball away and run it back to help set up a goal. Anyway 25 years ago we won our division, made it through the playoffs and had the big city league championship game played in Civic Stadium. We lost 3-1 but it was an incredible experience.
Thus the reunion and I don't want to go. I haven't seen these people in nearly 23 years and even Vince, my best friend in high school and I see each other only once maybe every few years. Why would I want to drive to Portland for what would be an awkward evening, probably too many beers, and stories about the big game that likely are a far stretch from what really happened? Oh, and then there's the "Hi, remember me? Yes, I used to have hair...no, I'm divorced now...." Sounds like a great time. Geez, I reread that and I kinda sound like an asshole. Truth is I am thinking about going (5% yes/95% no) The thing is that Vince wants me to go. The guy has a heart the size of the moon and is all sentimental about this kind of thing. I could hear the disappointment in his voice when we talked. I left him with a "maybe" though we both knew the odds were against it.
Who knows, maybe you'll see a blog about my reunion experience snuck in among the race stories. My life is about moving forward but not at the expense of forgetting the important things in my past. Maybe this is one of them. Maybe I'm meant to go. Maybe we'll go. Looking over at the passenger seat may be all I need to make it a great trip. That in of itself could be a blog but that is for another day. Today I'll close my eyes and remember beating the keeper, tucking the ball away on the far right post, turning toward my teammates and running with my arms held high because one of them had just delivered to me the perfect pass.
I wasn't very social in high school - never dated - didn't care too. I was there to get out. There were many downsides. One being little dating experience...lots of the people I knew "had been around the block once or twice" (or at least claimed they had) and I'd not quite moved off the sidewalk. Whatever. Looking back I was a bit shy. If a girl wanted to talk to me she better be prepared to start the conversation, keep it rolling, and decide when it was over. My job was to maintain eye contact. Don't let the eyes wander...no...stop...look at her eyes...her eyes...that's better. Another downside was that shifting from high school directly to a full time job (earning the monster sum of $450 a month) required me to attack my college degree at night. The downside to that downside was that it took for frickin forever....the upside, I was making bank....or so it seemed. $450 a month and living at home - sweet baby!
So why this blog about reunions? My best friend from high school called me last week about an upcoming 25 year reunion of our city league soccer team. Many moons ago I played quite a bit of soccer. I wasn't great in terms of skill, but I was fast. They put me in the forward position and our main play was for someone to kick the ball as far as they could and see if I could out run the defender, get the ball first, and score a goal. It wasn't the most strategic plan but it worked well. Sooner or later the other teams would put two guys on me and let's just say the game became a bit rougher. I remember dislocating my jaw in this no contact sport. It was a bitch when the doc popped it back into place...ouch! The day came when we got a real coach who used to play for Manchester United and knew his shit. He moved me to defense using the logic that most Americans shove the fast guys up front so we better have faster guys in the back to cut them off, take the ball and turn it back up field. I loved it! Big guys racing down with the ball and 120 pound Mikey would take the ball away and run it back to help set up a goal. Anyway 25 years ago we won our division, made it through the playoffs and had the big city league championship game played in Civic Stadium. We lost 3-1 but it was an incredible experience.
Thus the reunion and I don't want to go. I haven't seen these people in nearly 23 years and even Vince, my best friend in high school and I see each other only once maybe every few years. Why would I want to drive to Portland for what would be an awkward evening, probably too many beers, and stories about the big game that likely are a far stretch from what really happened? Oh, and then there's the "Hi, remember me? Yes, I used to have hair...no, I'm divorced now...." Sounds like a great time. Geez, I reread that and I kinda sound like an asshole. Truth is I am thinking about going (5% yes/95% no) The thing is that Vince wants me to go. The guy has a heart the size of the moon and is all sentimental about this kind of thing. I could hear the disappointment in his voice when we talked. I left him with a "maybe" though we both knew the odds were against it.
Who knows, maybe you'll see a blog about my reunion experience snuck in among the race stories. My life is about moving forward but not at the expense of forgetting the important things in my past. Maybe this is one of them. Maybe I'm meant to go. Maybe we'll go. Looking over at the passenger seat may be all I need to make it a great trip. That in of itself could be a blog but that is for another day. Today I'll close my eyes and remember beating the keeper, tucking the ball away on the far right post, turning toward my teammates and running with my arms held high because one of them had just delivered to me the perfect pass.
Friday, February 4, 2011
Air
Air. Oxygen. Critical for respiration. Safe to say it's something we embrace. There was a time it came easy. A time I didn't really think about it. It was there when I needed it and I took it for granted. As a little kid I would run around the yard, climb trees, ride my bike, scream when the mood hit me, and chase girls (they were faster then TOO). In early 99 I found that exercise induced asthma was the reason for my recent struggles with running. Part way into a race I simply could not get enough oxygen into my lungs and I would become weak and my breathing was more like panting. The final mile was more survival than anything else. The finish line meant a chance to stop and try to catch my breath. As hard as I tried, a full deep breath was impossible. It's a scary feeling to try as hard as you can to breathe and only succeed in a shallow short gasp of air followed by coughing. Wheezing was a partner in this crime. In time I would get back to normal and move on.
After some tests it was determined that I would become inhaler dependent. One for the morning and evening, another if I chose to run. I chose to run and the inhaler was magic. Air was back and running was fun again!!! Best of all, I was able to run with Sharon and Albert again....or is it that they were able to run with me.. :)
So there I was, taking oxygen for granted again - well, not like I used to because sucking on an inhaler is a constant reminder that no one is invincible. We all have our "inhalers" and we find a way to adjust our lives to them. We don't let them change us or at least we shouldn't.
Two months ago I started to struggle again. From time to time I would need to take my exercise inhaler after a run in addition to taking it before. The time to time became more frequent and I blamed it on cold weather. I'm good at deflecting anything related to my health. In fact I excel at it. Can you say s-t-u-p-i-d? The past 3 weeks I've needed it during a run which of course I can't take since I had just taken it. My frickin chest gets heavy and air once again is elusive. F ***! So am I back to square one or am I worse? Logic would say worse because what helped me yesterday isn't doing the trick today. Scary? Yes. Let's hope it's just my asthma and nothing else. Ok mom, I know you're reading this thinking you need to be calling 911. But guess what? I visit the doc on Monday. :) I'm sure I will get some heavy duty inhaler that takes two hands just to hold, with side effects that will make my hair fall out (don't say it), cause me to become impotent, and hell, let's toss in uncontrollable flatulence. Truth be told it'd not be a bad trade to be able to breathe again. You all may not think so nor would many of you sit next to me anymore.
Maybe I should just suck it up. I know people who have much tougher cards handed to them and they step up and move forward every day. That impresses me, they impress me. It could be that my fast days are behind me and my blog will become Jog...don't run. It could be that I get new meds and I start setting new race records. Like life, time will tell. But just because I'm standing next to you and something stinks, it's not necessarily me...
After some tests it was determined that I would become inhaler dependent. One for the morning and evening, another if I chose to run. I chose to run and the inhaler was magic. Air was back and running was fun again!!! Best of all, I was able to run with Sharon and Albert again....or is it that they were able to run with me.. :)
So there I was, taking oxygen for granted again - well, not like I used to because sucking on an inhaler is a constant reminder that no one is invincible. We all have our "inhalers" and we find a way to adjust our lives to them. We don't let them change us or at least we shouldn't.
Two months ago I started to struggle again. From time to time I would need to take my exercise inhaler after a run in addition to taking it before. The time to time became more frequent and I blamed it on cold weather. I'm good at deflecting anything related to my health. In fact I excel at it. Can you say s-t-u-p-i-d? The past 3 weeks I've needed it during a run which of course I can't take since I had just taken it. My frickin chest gets heavy and air once again is elusive. F ***! So am I back to square one or am I worse? Logic would say worse because what helped me yesterday isn't doing the trick today. Scary? Yes. Let's hope it's just my asthma and nothing else. Ok mom, I know you're reading this thinking you need to be calling 911. But guess what? I visit the doc on Monday. :) I'm sure I will get some heavy duty inhaler that takes two hands just to hold, with side effects that will make my hair fall out (don't say it), cause me to become impotent, and hell, let's toss in uncontrollable flatulence. Truth be told it'd not be a bad trade to be able to breathe again. You all may not think so nor would many of you sit next to me anymore.
Maybe I should just suck it up. I know people who have much tougher cards handed to them and they step up and move forward every day. That impresses me, they impress me. It could be that my fast days are behind me and my blog will become Jog...don't run. It could be that I get new meds and I start setting new race records. Like life, time will tell. But just because I'm standing next to you and something stinks, it's not necessarily me...
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