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.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
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...
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Porch Time
I love my porch. Looking at it one would be hard pressed to discern it from any other porch. 2x4's...wood rails...concrete...couple a chairs...ordinary. Is it really ordinary? To me it isn't. In fact my porch can be a magic place, a special place. What makes it magic I don't know. Maybe it's because I feel peaceful sitting out there. My mind wanders. Never so far that it hasn't come back - though there are those of you who have thought more than once that I lost it...it's never lost, just takes frequent vacations.
At times my porch would be an escape portal. I could walk out of the house and be a recluse, a misanthrope. I do like people it's just that sometimes, well, I don't - I like you though and not just because you are reading my blog! Don't you ever feel like you just want to be alone, left alone, not bothered, not spoken too? I do. Granted it's not very often but I admit there are those times. Often I will sit out there and read. In the summer I get the evening sun cutting across my left shoulder so I pop over to the other chair to catch some shade. I would watch my son mow the lawn. You have to keep an eye on those things. Proper mowing requires once around the perimeter then crisp straight strips back and forth, overlapping each time by 50% to ensure a clean cut. Then of course the next mowing will be diagonal, back to straight, etc. You also can't mow too fast or you pull the grass rather than cut it. My observation of the process would slightly annoy Taylor. I could tell because he wouldn't look directly at me but I would see the slight shift of his eyes as he went by. He'd do a great job 99% of the time. Once in a while I'd see a few blades sticking up and he'd need to take another pass with the mower.
Other times I would sit out there and just let thoughts roll in and out. It's amazing how I could work my way though exactly how I would manage my lottery winnings should my numbers suddenly hit. Some of the porch memories never leave me. I remember sitting out there November 29th 2009 at 4:30 in the morning. It was the day of my first ever half marathon. It was raining. I knew Albert would be coming to pick me up and that was that - I was going to run a half marathon. I was nervous, maybe a little scared. I ran through the race in my mind, comforted that Albert would be by my side the entire time - I'd be ok, safe. Sitting on the porch during a rain storm fills me with such an incredible feeling. I love it! Don't come talk to me however, just let me escape in the moment. Listening to the rain hit the leaves on the plants, watching them bounce off the street, even hearing the water roll down the roof and through the gutter. Rain can be good. Now don't even get me started about watching the snow fall.
Have I mentioned yet my attire? Oh heavens, forgive me. I wear my bathrobe. Always in the morning but honestly most of the time I'm out there. Sometimes it's cold enough that I wear a sweatshirt under it. Maybe a hat if it's really cold. I sit out there all bundled up and drink coffee. Paradise. It's not like I'm naked underneath. I'll wear my pajamas. Neighbors drive by and glance over. I simply raise my cup of coffee to them and smile. Surely they think I'm crazy or just a little 'off'. I am not alone in this regard however. Sharon used to live a couple houses down and more than once would call and tell me she was coming down to have coffee. There she be, walking down the sidewalk coffee in hand, wearing her white bathrobe and pajamas. Her hair....her hair would be sticking up and out in so many directions that Vidal Sassoon would have turned and ran. She didn't care. Neither did I. It was coffee time, porch time. We'd shoot the shit and laugh. I remember one time Sue opened the front door, looked at us and just closed it without a word. I'm sure we were quite the sight!
I wouldn't trade my porch for anything, nor the memories I have sitting out there. Tomorrow I'll make a latte from my new machine, toss on the bathrobe, and ease into my chair. I already know in fact what I'll be thinking about. It'll be a good day. My porch is always open. Come by any time. We'll talk, have a coffee, or maybe just enjoy each others company in silence - letting our minds wander, dream, unwind. My porch is your porch, bathrobe optional - PJ's not.
At times my porch would be an escape portal. I could walk out of the house and be a recluse, a misanthrope. I do like people it's just that sometimes, well, I don't - I like you though and not just because you are reading my blog! Don't you ever feel like you just want to be alone, left alone, not bothered, not spoken too? I do. Granted it's not very often but I admit there are those times. Often I will sit out there and read. In the summer I get the evening sun cutting across my left shoulder so I pop over to the other chair to catch some shade. I would watch my son mow the lawn. You have to keep an eye on those things. Proper mowing requires once around the perimeter then crisp straight strips back and forth, overlapping each time by 50% to ensure a clean cut. Then of course the next mowing will be diagonal, back to straight, etc. You also can't mow too fast or you pull the grass rather than cut it. My observation of the process would slightly annoy Taylor. I could tell because he wouldn't look directly at me but I would see the slight shift of his eyes as he went by. He'd do a great job 99% of the time. Once in a while I'd see a few blades sticking up and he'd need to take another pass with the mower.
Other times I would sit out there and just let thoughts roll in and out. It's amazing how I could work my way though exactly how I would manage my lottery winnings should my numbers suddenly hit. Some of the porch memories never leave me. I remember sitting out there November 29th 2009 at 4:30 in the morning. It was the day of my first ever half marathon. It was raining. I knew Albert would be coming to pick me up and that was that - I was going to run a half marathon. I was nervous, maybe a little scared. I ran through the race in my mind, comforted that Albert would be by my side the entire time - I'd be ok, safe. Sitting on the porch during a rain storm fills me with such an incredible feeling. I love it! Don't come talk to me however, just let me escape in the moment. Listening to the rain hit the leaves on the plants, watching them bounce off the street, even hearing the water roll down the roof and through the gutter. Rain can be good. Now don't even get me started about watching the snow fall.
Have I mentioned yet my attire? Oh heavens, forgive me. I wear my bathrobe. Always in the morning but honestly most of the time I'm out there. Sometimes it's cold enough that I wear a sweatshirt under it. Maybe a hat if it's really cold. I sit out there all bundled up and drink coffee. Paradise. It's not like I'm naked underneath. I'll wear my pajamas. Neighbors drive by and glance over. I simply raise my cup of coffee to them and smile. Surely they think I'm crazy or just a little 'off'. I am not alone in this regard however. Sharon used to live a couple houses down and more than once would call and tell me she was coming down to have coffee. There she be, walking down the sidewalk coffee in hand, wearing her white bathrobe and pajamas. Her hair....her hair would be sticking up and out in so many directions that Vidal Sassoon would have turned and ran. She didn't care. Neither did I. It was coffee time, porch time. We'd shoot the shit and laugh. I remember one time Sue opened the front door, looked at us and just closed it without a word. I'm sure we were quite the sight!
I wouldn't trade my porch for anything, nor the memories I have sitting out there. Tomorrow I'll make a latte from my new machine, toss on the bathrobe, and ease into my chair. I already know in fact what I'll be thinking about. It'll be a good day. My porch is always open. Come by any time. We'll talk, have a coffee, or maybe just enjoy each others company in silence - letting our minds wander, dream, unwind. My porch is your porch, bathrobe optional - PJ's not.
Saturday, January 8, 2011
Remember
The pain of time,
Moving farther and farther,
Away from a summer of love,
A summer of joy,
A memory that comes to me,
In times of darkness,
A memory that brings me a smile,
A smile stretching from coast to coast,
A memory clearer than the blue sky,
I lay here,
My eyes closed,
Tighter than a baby angel to her mother,
My lips sealed shut,
As if they were hiding a treasure,
My blanket wrapped tightly around me,
As if it were snowing in the room,
But my ears,
My ears are open,
Waiting,
Hoping,
To hear those three words once again.
Another poem my son Taylor wrote. Good stuff from a good kid. At some point in ours lives I think we've all felt this way - losing a love we so desperately wanted to hold on to, hoping that love would come back to us. I like how he put those feelings into words. For his senior project he designed a book on the poems he has written. The official presentation is next week....the review panel better pass him...I'm just sayin....
Moving farther and farther,
Away from a summer of love,
A summer of joy,
A memory that comes to me,
In times of darkness,
A memory that brings me a smile,
A smile stretching from coast to coast,
A memory clearer than the blue sky,
I lay here,
My eyes closed,
Tighter than a baby angel to her mother,
My lips sealed shut,
As if they were hiding a treasure,
My blanket wrapped tightly around me,
As if it were snowing in the room,
But my ears,
My ears are open,
Waiting,
Hoping,
To hear those three words once again.
Another poem my son Taylor wrote. Good stuff from a good kid. At some point in ours lives I think we've all felt this way - losing a love we so desperately wanted to hold on to, hoping that love would come back to us. I like how he put those feelings into words. For his senior project he designed a book on the poems he has written. The official presentation is next week....the review panel better pass him...I'm just sayin....
Saturday, January 1, 2011
2011....I wonder
Don't we all sit back about now and think about the new year? We wonder what is in front of us, what's lurking around the corner, just ahead on the horizon - it has to be good...right? We also take time to reflect on the past year, putting behind us those things we don't want to repeat, while embracing those that we can only say "again". Reflection for me started months ago and as such, I won't bore you with all that. It's enough to say that 2010 was not an easy year. Fact is, the best way to describe it is "FUSFS". Likely not what you're thinking - so there!
Today however is day one of a new year and I started it off with what else? Yup, a 5k. We were out in masses, a small army. Albert, David, Heather, Iain, Jen, Sharon, Steve, and myself. Iain and Steve did not run due to injury recovery - sometimes the smart decision (and hardest) is not to run. Speaking of that, our friend Kerrie made the smart choice today as well. Iain and Steve helped lug our crap around. We had so much because some of the crazies decided to jump in the water so additional clothes were necessary. Don't let that task sound small, it isn't. Knowing I had dry clothes and my inhaler waiting for me at the finish was very important to me! I was also lucky enough to see Sherah and her family. Sherah and her daughter Kat ran and did the dip in Lake Washington. I heard her family cheering me on as I made my way into the water. That is until the cold water started to shut down my life signs...more on that later. This isn't my first race with the Busch clan and I love to see them out there. That Kat is a firecracker. She finished 3rd in her age division today.
Our drive to the race was fairly uneventful except for two things. Albert got in trouble a lot :) and Sharon was making some strange noises. You know that sound you make when you have a popcorn kernel stuck in the back of your throat and you are trying to get it out. I don't even know how to try and spell that sound but I heard it - for miles...
It was cold....somewhere around freezing. After our customary line up at the honey buckets we all split up. Runners each have their own warm up routine and rarely does anything come between a runner and that routine. Mine consisted of a short jog to the bushes for what else but another pee. I had zero nerves about running today. I didn't plan on racing, simply running, hitting the water and starting the year off right. David and a new friend that I am embarrassed that I cannot recall his name lined up with me. The gun sounded and we were off. Very crowded in the beginning and multiple ice patches we had to work around. Within minutes I was running alone. People all around me but I was just doing my pace and feeling very comfortable. I never felt tired but managed to hit the time I ran last year and finished 12th in my age group. This same pace last year wiped me out. Wonder if this cross training thing really works after all? Guess so. Thanks Coach!
I hit the parking lot and like last year knew I was about a quarter mile from the water. Coming down the stretch I took my shirt off (possible photo of that one ladies - but I need to see if any airbrushing is required before posting). I hit the water at a fair pace and bam...bam...that lake is cold. 42 degrees....You forget how hot your body gets when you run. Mix that with cold water and your heart stops. I think mine did. Maybe it just felt like it. It took my breath away but soon I was making my way out of the water and around the corner for the final stretch. I usually sprint this but water from previous runners covered the road and it had frozen, making the final sprint more of a careful run. Saw Iain who handed me my bag of clothes and I knew I was done and ready to change. Hold on! Where was Albert? We went to the dock only to see him hit the water, go under, and come up smiling. He had finished the race but decided to go back and do the dip anyway - Crazy man!
Speaking of crazy, both Sharon and Albert ran sub 20's today. Sharon having visited the doctor the day before wasn't in top shape yet ran like a demon. Her mental strength is incredible. Officially she finished first in her age division and was the 3rd overall woman. Albert was 5th in his age division and of course as mentioned, apparently wasn't tired and decided to run into the lake. I appreciate these two more that I could ever tell them.
How about some more crazy? Ok. I take my clothes to the changing tent and there is a line to get in. F that, I'm wet and cold. I grab my backpack and walk to the parking lot. Found a sweet spot between a Toyota and a Honda and decided that was my changing area. It's important to know that naked is not a big deal to me. While I don't walk around that way, sometimes I just figure that everyone has seen someone naked so it's really nothing new. I think this way when it fits the situation. Today it did. Soon I was stripping off the wet stuff while trying unsuccessfully to hold a towel around my waist. It didn't work so I dropped it and quickly tried to slip on some underwear - still being a little wet, that process didn't happen as fast as one would have hoped. How hard is it exactly to slip your foot in? I'm sure I looked like I was doing a rain dance. Oh well. If you come across me on YouTube, please, don't email the link around. Thanks....
The drive to Starbucks was funny. Between the cold, asthma, and illness, our coughing sounded like we'd been smoking Marboros for 30 years. Soon we had our drinks in hand and sat around laughing and being louder than maybe we should have. We really don't think about that - after all, we're athletes! Steve is sending me pictures so I will have some to post. The race is done and I'm in front of my computer wondering what 2011 will bring. What changes are around the corner? Will that pimple on my forehead finally go away? I joke. But that's how I cope. It's how I roll. It doesn't always work but more often that not, it gets me through. I know I will be a better man this year. Some might say that wouldn't be hard to do. Others would say "good for you". Me? I will do the best I can, think before I act, measure twice and cut once. Throughout it all I will run....I will swim....and when the day is done I will lay my head on my pillow and know that I was a better man.
Today however is day one of a new year and I started it off with what else? Yup, a 5k. We were out in masses, a small army. Albert, David, Heather, Iain, Jen, Sharon, Steve, and myself. Iain and Steve did not run due to injury recovery - sometimes the smart decision (and hardest) is not to run. Speaking of that, our friend Kerrie made the smart choice today as well. Iain and Steve helped lug our crap around. We had so much because some of the crazies decided to jump in the water so additional clothes were necessary. Don't let that task sound small, it isn't. Knowing I had dry clothes and my inhaler waiting for me at the finish was very important to me! I was also lucky enough to see Sherah and her family. Sherah and her daughter Kat ran and did the dip in Lake Washington. I heard her family cheering me on as I made my way into the water. That is until the cold water started to shut down my life signs...more on that later. This isn't my first race with the Busch clan and I love to see them out there. That Kat is a firecracker. She finished 3rd in her age division today.
Our drive to the race was fairly uneventful except for two things. Albert got in trouble a lot :) and Sharon was making some strange noises. You know that sound you make when you have a popcorn kernel stuck in the back of your throat and you are trying to get it out. I don't even know how to try and spell that sound but I heard it - for miles...
It was cold....somewhere around freezing. After our customary line up at the honey buckets we all split up. Runners each have their own warm up routine and rarely does anything come between a runner and that routine. Mine consisted of a short jog to the bushes for what else but another pee. I had zero nerves about running today. I didn't plan on racing, simply running, hitting the water and starting the year off right. David and a new friend that I am embarrassed that I cannot recall his name lined up with me. The gun sounded and we were off. Very crowded in the beginning and multiple ice patches we had to work around. Within minutes I was running alone. People all around me but I was just doing my pace and feeling very comfortable. I never felt tired but managed to hit the time I ran last year and finished 12th in my age group. This same pace last year wiped me out. Wonder if this cross training thing really works after all? Guess so. Thanks Coach!
I hit the parking lot and like last year knew I was about a quarter mile from the water. Coming down the stretch I took my shirt off (possible photo of that one ladies - but I need to see if any airbrushing is required before posting). I hit the water at a fair pace and bam...bam...that lake is cold. 42 degrees....You forget how hot your body gets when you run. Mix that with cold water and your heart stops. I think mine did. Maybe it just felt like it. It took my breath away but soon I was making my way out of the water and around the corner for the final stretch. I usually sprint this but water from previous runners covered the road and it had frozen, making the final sprint more of a careful run. Saw Iain who handed me my bag of clothes and I knew I was done and ready to change. Hold on! Where was Albert? We went to the dock only to see him hit the water, go under, and come up smiling. He had finished the race but decided to go back and do the dip anyway - Crazy man!
Speaking of crazy, both Sharon and Albert ran sub 20's today. Sharon having visited the doctor the day before wasn't in top shape yet ran like a demon. Her mental strength is incredible. Officially she finished first in her age division and was the 3rd overall woman. Albert was 5th in his age division and of course as mentioned, apparently wasn't tired and decided to run into the lake. I appreciate these two more that I could ever tell them.
How about some more crazy? Ok. I take my clothes to the changing tent and there is a line to get in. F that, I'm wet and cold. I grab my backpack and walk to the parking lot. Found a sweet spot between a Toyota and a Honda and decided that was my changing area. It's important to know that naked is not a big deal to me. While I don't walk around that way, sometimes I just figure that everyone has seen someone naked so it's really nothing new. I think this way when it fits the situation. Today it did. Soon I was stripping off the wet stuff while trying unsuccessfully to hold a towel around my waist. It didn't work so I dropped it and quickly tried to slip on some underwear - still being a little wet, that process didn't happen as fast as one would have hoped. How hard is it exactly to slip your foot in? I'm sure I looked like I was doing a rain dance. Oh well. If you come across me on YouTube, please, don't email the link around. Thanks....
The drive to Starbucks was funny. Between the cold, asthma, and illness, our coughing sounded like we'd been smoking Marboros for 30 years. Soon we had our drinks in hand and sat around laughing and being louder than maybe we should have. We really don't think about that - after all, we're athletes! Steve is sending me pictures so I will have some to post. The race is done and I'm in front of my computer wondering what 2011 will bring. What changes are around the corner? Will that pimple on my forehead finally go away? I joke. But that's how I cope. It's how I roll. It doesn't always work but more often that not, it gets me through. I know I will be a better man this year. Some might say that wouldn't be hard to do. Others would say "good for you". Me? I will do the best I can, think before I act, measure twice and cut once. Throughout it all I will run....I will swim....and when the day is done I will lay my head on my pillow and know that I was a better man.
Saturday, December 25, 2010
Christmas
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. That sounds a lot like my house this morning. For the first time in many years no one is stirring...making noise...or racing down the stairs to see what Santa left in the stockings. I admit the racing downstairs was usually me - I like the stocking surprise! Growing up it was the one place you'd never find underwear. There was always underwear in one of the presents you would open. It's best to find that one first and get it out of the way. Knowing you had one present left and the underwear hadn't cropped it's tidy whitey head yet did take a little joy out of that last package. Don't get me wrong, underwear is a staple for many of us - not all of us, but many of us....
There's something special about Christmas morning. The world around you becomes peaceful while worries and stress disappear. As a kid I would open each present and make a nice stack out of them. Clothes neatly piled and toys/games arranged according to size. When I was all done opening gifts, I would take each stack to my room and spend time looking at each one, deciding where the clothes would go and what toy to play with first. As an adult I find that I do the same thing. My stuff is always in a neat pile awaiting their turn to go upstairs for a more detailed examination. Most clothes wouldn't be worn right away. Socks for instance would sit until I wore out my existing ones. New simply had to wait their turn to get in the rotation. Sometimes that turn came months later.
This morning I woke up, walked downstairs and it felt different. I knew it would and was ready for it. Still...it wasn't easy. It was empty. I turned on the Christmas lights, fired up a candle, flipped on the fireplace, and found some soft classic holiday tunes on the radio - topped it off with a bowl of Cheerios. Soon I was texting Christmas wishes and feeling better. I decided to run an easy 5 mile loop. It was as much for the exercise as it was to escape the quiet. Minutes later David texted me asking if I was going to run. He ran to my house and at 7:30 we were off. We ran slow, talked the entire time, and before we knew it, we were in front of his house and I giving him a Christmas hug. I so appreciated his company this morning - more than he knew. I ran home feeling better, refreshed.
Time to slide into the hot tub I thought. The water was warm and my little bird friends were singing in the bushes, flying about, and working their way through the food I had out for them. A little hummingbird was zipping around the backyard having the time of her life. I love my backyard. Not too big, neat and tidy, and comfortable. Some day I will move and the backyard will be the one thing I miss. As the jets massaged my back I thought about this year, tallying my wins and losses. My record is much like the Seahawks...wins were small, losses big. I've played the game films over and over in my head and learned many lessons from them. I've already changed my game and haven't been sacked since. My front line isn't made up of huge 300+ pound sweaty belly fat linemen, but rather great friends and family who each in their own way have kept me on my feet. Without them who knows where I'd be. Me, I don't want to think about it. Instead I will move forward, look ahead, but at the same time be sure to enjoy the moment I am in at that time. Special people make special memories - you know who you are and thank you for that. Until we meet up again, enjoy every day, treat people better than they deserve, worry less about yesterday while you plan for tomorrow, Run...don't jog.
There's something special about Christmas morning. The world around you becomes peaceful while worries and stress disappear. As a kid I would open each present and make a nice stack out of them. Clothes neatly piled and toys/games arranged according to size. When I was all done opening gifts, I would take each stack to my room and spend time looking at each one, deciding where the clothes would go and what toy to play with first. As an adult I find that I do the same thing. My stuff is always in a neat pile awaiting their turn to go upstairs for a more detailed examination. Most clothes wouldn't be worn right away. Socks for instance would sit until I wore out my existing ones. New simply had to wait their turn to get in the rotation. Sometimes that turn came months later.
This morning I woke up, walked downstairs and it felt different. I knew it would and was ready for it. Still...it wasn't easy. It was empty. I turned on the Christmas lights, fired up a candle, flipped on the fireplace, and found some soft classic holiday tunes on the radio - topped it off with a bowl of Cheerios. Soon I was texting Christmas wishes and feeling better. I decided to run an easy 5 mile loop. It was as much for the exercise as it was to escape the quiet. Minutes later David texted me asking if I was going to run. He ran to my house and at 7:30 we were off. We ran slow, talked the entire time, and before we knew it, we were in front of his house and I giving him a Christmas hug. I so appreciated his company this morning - more than he knew. I ran home feeling better, refreshed.
Time to slide into the hot tub I thought. The water was warm and my little bird friends were singing in the bushes, flying about, and working their way through the food I had out for them. A little hummingbird was zipping around the backyard having the time of her life. I love my backyard. Not too big, neat and tidy, and comfortable. Some day I will move and the backyard will be the one thing I miss. As the jets massaged my back I thought about this year, tallying my wins and losses. My record is much like the Seahawks...wins were small, losses big. I've played the game films over and over in my head and learned many lessons from them. I've already changed my game and haven't been sacked since. My front line isn't made up of huge 300+ pound sweaty belly fat linemen, but rather great friends and family who each in their own way have kept me on my feet. Without them who knows where I'd be. Me, I don't want to think about it. Instead I will move forward, look ahead, but at the same time be sure to enjoy the moment I am in at that time. Special people make special memories - you know who you are and thank you for that. Until we meet up again, enjoy every day, treat people better than they deserve, worry less about yesterday while you plan for tomorrow, Run...don't jog.
Friday, December 17, 2010
Predictable
Predictable. That's me alright. Or is it? I often hear that I am. I hear that I am other things too but this is a family blog so I won't go there. Family blog? Sure, haven't you noticed that I don't swear any longer. Mr Clean, that's me. Not to say that from time to time I won't slide one in - just saying that I don't need to swear in my blog. How did I make that change you wonder. I had an intervention, spent 30 days in the "clinic", and washed my mouth out with soap every time I slipped. Thank goodness for the Costco soap pack. Those 48 bars not only cured me but occasionally bubbles pop out when I burp.
See, I'm rambling. Predictable, I ramble. Sometimes I don't even know I'm talking. It's clear that I'm probably saying something very important. Why else would I be talking? Am I afraid of silence? A case of quietaphobia? I think not. I say things as they flow into my brain. They're floating around in there and bam, next thing I know I hear myself talking. It's such a short trip from brain to mouth. Is that why men sometimes think with their other er, brain? A little more distance helps right? Nope, that one just spells trouble - seems to be more of a divining rod than a brain. Either way, it's not much of a thinker.
Does being predictable make me boring? Or safe and comfortable? Truth be told, I like a good routine. I'm not a fly by the seat of my pants kind of guy. It's best to lay out a plan and follow it. Control it. That's my happy place. I wake every day at 4:00am except for weekends when it's 5:30am. Bedtime is 10:00pm. Granted that's only 6 hours of sleep but it seems to work. I usually eat the same 4-5 meals for dinner and lunch is either a turkey sandwich on whole wheat with mustard (never the deadly mayo) and a slab of cheese or it's a can of tuna. I eat it right from the can. Easier. Faster. Not a dish wasted. I make my lunch, lay out my clothes, and pack my gym bag the night before. The heat turns on at 3:30am and off at 4:30am. Back on at 5:30pm and off at 9:30pm. I buy gas at the same station, have done 90% of my grocery shopping at the same Albertsons for 14 years. Same Dry Cleaner for 12. My latte is 16oz non fat no foam 180 degrees.
I could go on but sh**, I'M starting to find myself boring. Having said all that I believe I am becoming more flexible. Fine - are you done with your little laughing fit yet? I do step out of my comfort zone. Case in point - swimming. Frickin dislike water more than you know but I am in the pool every week. Sundays at noon, Thursday at 8:00, with a Monday and/or Saturday thrown in for good measure. The secret? Water Angels. Enough said. I'm teaching Taylor how to drive and didn't even flip out when he drove up and curbed a tire. No, he wasn't driving my car but that's not the point....
My friends are helping me stretch myself and I appreciate it even though I might not tell them often enough. They help me more than they know, each in their own way. I bought shoes that I would never have bought on my own. Jeans that cost more than $35 and go down well past my ankles. I don't always tuck in my shirt anymore. If a sock has a hole in it I throw it away instead of turning it over and getting another six months out of it. I have however stepped out a little too far and like the guy pushing his luck at the Blackjack table, finally lost...big. You can never win your money back. The harder you try the more you lose. The best thing to do is to stop, count your losses, and step away from the table. I'm looking for balance and I think I'm closing in on it. There are things I need as much as the air I breathe and I will always embrace them, never take them for granted, and appreciate them daily. I think I'll like that guy. He is safe. Comfortable. Dependable. A person you can count on. Predictable.
See, I'm rambling. Predictable, I ramble. Sometimes I don't even know I'm talking. It's clear that I'm probably saying something very important. Why else would I be talking? Am I afraid of silence? A case of quietaphobia? I think not. I say things as they flow into my brain. They're floating around in there and bam, next thing I know I hear myself talking. It's such a short trip from brain to mouth. Is that why men sometimes think with their other er, brain? A little more distance helps right? Nope, that one just spells trouble - seems to be more of a divining rod than a brain. Either way, it's not much of a thinker.
Does being predictable make me boring? Or safe and comfortable? Truth be told, I like a good routine. I'm not a fly by the seat of my pants kind of guy. It's best to lay out a plan and follow it. Control it. That's my happy place. I wake every day at 4:00am except for weekends when it's 5:30am. Bedtime is 10:00pm. Granted that's only 6 hours of sleep but it seems to work. I usually eat the same 4-5 meals for dinner and lunch is either a turkey sandwich on whole wheat with mustard (never the deadly mayo) and a slab of cheese or it's a can of tuna. I eat it right from the can. Easier. Faster. Not a dish wasted. I make my lunch, lay out my clothes, and pack my gym bag the night before. The heat turns on at 3:30am and off at 4:30am. Back on at 5:30pm and off at 9:30pm. I buy gas at the same station, have done 90% of my grocery shopping at the same Albertsons for 14 years. Same Dry Cleaner for 12. My latte is 16oz non fat no foam 180 degrees.
I could go on but sh**, I'M starting to find myself boring. Having said all that I believe I am becoming more flexible. Fine - are you done with your little laughing fit yet? I do step out of my comfort zone. Case in point - swimming. Frickin dislike water more than you know but I am in the pool every week. Sundays at noon, Thursday at 8:00, with a Monday and/or Saturday thrown in for good measure. The secret? Water Angels. Enough said. I'm teaching Taylor how to drive and didn't even flip out when he drove up and curbed a tire. No, he wasn't driving my car but that's not the point....
My friends are helping me stretch myself and I appreciate it even though I might not tell them often enough. They help me more than they know, each in their own way. I bought shoes that I would never have bought on my own. Jeans that cost more than $35 and go down well past my ankles. I don't always tuck in my shirt anymore. If a sock has a hole in it I throw it away instead of turning it over and getting another six months out of it. I have however stepped out a little too far and like the guy pushing his luck at the Blackjack table, finally lost...big. You can never win your money back. The harder you try the more you lose. The best thing to do is to stop, count your losses, and step away from the table. I'm looking for balance and I think I'm closing in on it. There are things I need as much as the air I breathe and I will always embrace them, never take them for granted, and appreciate them daily. I think I'll like that guy. He is safe. Comfortable. Dependable. A person you can count on. Predictable.
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