The comeback journey is well underway. However I feel like the B side of an old record - overshadowed by the A side. The side everyone cheers for, plays for hours, you watch it rise on the charts. It’s the popular side. The B side by contrast isn’t given much hope. It tries. Hangs around. Hopes that someone accidentally puts the record on upside down and it gets a chance to show what it’s made of. Every once in a while the B side becomes a hit, even overshadows the A side. My B side is an A side wanna be.
Honestly it has been harder than I thought it would be. In order to kick it into high gear I’ve had to say goodbye to some old friends. Some had drifted away while others have dug in and refused to go. Not to embarrass them but Mr. JellyDonut, Ms Snacksizecandybar, and the always in my face Mr. Pintof anykindoffullonhighfaticecream have yet to get the hint that it’s time for them to go. Maybe I’ve been too nice to them. I admit that more than once I’ve woken up with Ms Snacksizecandybar laying next to me. Don’t blame me, it was a fun size bag after all….
My workouts have been steady and fruitful. I’m back to lifting weights a couple days a week. Getting tone back in my once hard body is important to me and it’ll be nice to take the newspaper off the mirrors. Lifting has been a mental lift as well, a way to gauge my return in a way other than speed. Strength is coming back and I suspect the broader my shoulders become the smaller my center chub will appear.
Running is smiling at me again. Sharon has me on a strict diet of slow mileage. At first I scoffed at it, maybe stomped my feet once or twice, and pronounced to the team that I simply cannot run that slowly. Oops…after the reprimand and a refresher in the science of running (plus a reminder that I am not the runner I once was – ouch), I realized that she was right and I would concede. The past two weeks have been great. I am building my base and enjoying my road time. Today I rolled out 7 miles which included a nice hill and I felt great afterwards.
Stretching is now routine and my foam roller and I are getting reacquainted. I love the group I am running with and the support this group has for each other is something one doesn’t find just anywhere. I will complete my first Duathlon in June and who knows, maybe this guy has some speed left in him still. Lookout 5K age division leaders, the B side is coming back and sometimes just sometimes, they can be a hit….
Saturday, March 10, 2012
Saturday, February 11, 2012
The Comeback Kid
Comeback Kid. At 52 maybe Kid isn’t the right word. Geezer? Too harsh. Adult? Too formal and too far from the truth. :) Let’s just say that I am between diapers and depends…though a little closer to the latter. Age doesn’t freak me out because my mind has enough to keep track of without having to worry about a number. Did I blow out the candle? Close the garage door? Company is coming over, are the toilets flushed? All much more critical – wouldn’t you agree?
Having been out of commission (see previous blog) for a couple months I had been looking forward to starting up my workouts. In my mind I was already winning races and busting out some powerful pecs. That’s right ladies, powerful pecs. “Hey, have you seen Michael lately?” “Yes, I have and oh my gosh he’s ripped.” “There he is, get out of my way”. “No you get out of the way bit*h”. Fighting ensues. I have such a happy place don’t I? I found that it hasn’t been quite that easy. My weight is my enemy, running is lacking, and workouts are a struggle. I will break down each one.
Weight. I have gained 9 pounds. Don’t roll your eyes. 9 pounds is a lot for me. Some lucky souls have weight gain travel to better places. Boobs for instance. Two of my friends gained weight and 90% of it ended up there. They complained, I didn’t. In fact I gave them more ice cream. My weight gain is old school, dead center in the belly. I have a muffin top. When someone tells me my shoe is untied, I tell them I like it that way. I refuse to stand on the scale until I have pooped. For a week I ate salad. No change. I like candy and chips. I now like ice cream too….
Running. Holy heck, where did my cardio go? I’m putting it on milk cartons - “Disappeared in 2011. If found call 1-800-HeavyB.” The elliptical machine kicks my butt. Tried the treadmill and forgot how boring it was. It didn’t help to have a 90 year old Chinese woman knitting a scarf next to me knocking out a faster pace. Trail running has been a blessing. If I’m too slow getting back I simply tell everyone that I got lost. With my sense of direction that truth-bender is believable. I am no longer fast and my endurance limited.
Workouts. I was a bodybuilder once. Maybe I should just leave it with that - it’ll leave a better picture in your head. Today I struggle with minimal weight and sometimes count by two’s on my way to 10 reps. Tank tops have been replaced by baggy shirts. I go to core class and my abs hurt after 5 reps. Scratch that, I meant my ab hurt. I have a one pack.
There is a benefit to all this – chicks don’t talk to me as much. Thank God, I can finally get something done. I mean really, texts, phone calls, emails, standing out by my car waiting for me – what a burden I carried. Having said all that, I am working my way back. I lost a pound – that’s 11% of my goal (happy place). I have shown self control and limit my eating in the evening – brushing my teeth early helps a lot. Workouts are coming along. Strength is slowly coming back. Looking in the mirror with the light just dim enough I am beginning to look good in my mind. Running is a long journey back if I want to avoid injury. My 4 minute walk, 6 minute run has dropped to 3/7, 2/8, and today I walked one minute and ran 9 for an hour – managed 5.5 miles and though taxed, my recovery was swifter than the week prior. Increased intensity will burn more calories and my weight will move in the right direction. I am planning on my first Duathlon in June. A 5k, 15 mile bike, followed by another 5k. Having a goal will give direction and purpose to my workouts. This may not be a comeback after all. It may simply be a new chapter for an aging athlete. What am I saying? It’s a frickin comeback – nobody is aging around here. Look out baby, Mr Chubby is going to be history – save your laundry, these abs will be washboards soon enough. By the way, I have some ice cream for you….
Having been out of commission (see previous blog) for a couple months I had been looking forward to starting up my workouts. In my mind I was already winning races and busting out some powerful pecs. That’s right ladies, powerful pecs. “Hey, have you seen Michael lately?” “Yes, I have and oh my gosh he’s ripped.” “There he is, get out of my way”. “No you get out of the way bit*h”. Fighting ensues. I have such a happy place don’t I? I found that it hasn’t been quite that easy. My weight is my enemy, running is lacking, and workouts are a struggle. I will break down each one.
Weight. I have gained 9 pounds. Don’t roll your eyes. 9 pounds is a lot for me. Some lucky souls have weight gain travel to better places. Boobs for instance. Two of my friends gained weight and 90% of it ended up there. They complained, I didn’t. In fact I gave them more ice cream. My weight gain is old school, dead center in the belly. I have a muffin top. When someone tells me my shoe is untied, I tell them I like it that way. I refuse to stand on the scale until I have pooped. For a week I ate salad. No change. I like candy and chips. I now like ice cream too….
Running. Holy heck, where did my cardio go? I’m putting it on milk cartons - “Disappeared in 2011. If found call 1-800-HeavyB.” The elliptical machine kicks my butt. Tried the treadmill and forgot how boring it was. It didn’t help to have a 90 year old Chinese woman knitting a scarf next to me knocking out a faster pace. Trail running has been a blessing. If I’m too slow getting back I simply tell everyone that I got lost. With my sense of direction that truth-bender is believable. I am no longer fast and my endurance limited.
Workouts. I was a bodybuilder once. Maybe I should just leave it with that - it’ll leave a better picture in your head. Today I struggle with minimal weight and sometimes count by two’s on my way to 10 reps. Tank tops have been replaced by baggy shirts. I go to core class and my abs hurt after 5 reps. Scratch that, I meant my ab hurt. I have a one pack.
There is a benefit to all this – chicks don’t talk to me as much. Thank God, I can finally get something done. I mean really, texts, phone calls, emails, standing out by my car waiting for me – what a burden I carried. Having said all that, I am working my way back. I lost a pound – that’s 11% of my goal (happy place). I have shown self control and limit my eating in the evening – brushing my teeth early helps a lot. Workouts are coming along. Strength is slowly coming back. Looking in the mirror with the light just dim enough I am beginning to look good in my mind. Running is a long journey back if I want to avoid injury. My 4 minute walk, 6 minute run has dropped to 3/7, 2/8, and today I walked one minute and ran 9 for an hour – managed 5.5 miles and though taxed, my recovery was swifter than the week prior. Increased intensity will burn more calories and my weight will move in the right direction. I am planning on my first Duathlon in June. A 5k, 15 mile bike, followed by another 5k. Having a goal will give direction and purpose to my workouts. This may not be a comeback after all. It may simply be a new chapter for an aging athlete. What am I saying? It’s a frickin comeback – nobody is aging around here. Look out baby, Mr Chubby is going to be history – save your laundry, these abs will be washboards soon enough. By the way, I have some ice cream for you….
Saturday, December 10, 2011
Generosity
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.
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.
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....
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