Category: life

DC

So, I’m back home after a couple of days down in DC. And man, what a great trip this was – fascinating, good running, and a chance to catch up with an old friend.

The new shoes are good – there’ll be a bit up on Complete Running later this week talking about a great retail experience.

And WOW – I’d forgotten what an elemental experience it is to run in good, solid humidity. I just got out for a couple of miles, and MAN – it was sticky. But sticky in a good way.

Monday night, I caught up with a shipmate. Good food, and we spent the evening walking around the Tidal Basin and the mall. DC is absolutely fabulous – it’s inspirational for me to actually go around and read the monuments, Jefferson’s in particular. It’s a shame how frequently we forget the intellectual underpinnings of our great nation. I envy you DC types, though not for the weather…

Thursday is Terramuggus. I hope i make it – work is busy, and next week is vacation…

Danger, BillJank

Ah, amigos – wonderful things are happening at work. Great and interesting things. The downside? I blew off running again today.

I think I will be caught up soon, and if I make it through this week, things should be good for a while. I just need a little collective kick-in-the-butt so I get out there tomorrow…

Thanks.

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Oh, go check out my latest bit on Complete Running. I’m kind of happy with the way it came out, especially the cartoon they added at the end.

Camping

Wow, sorry I haven’t gotten this one down yet.

I took the boys camping last weekend. As in actual, honest-to-god put your stuff on your back and hike camping, not the pull up to a graded gravel pad and lock the food in the car camping.

I called the Connecticut DEP the Thursday before Memorial Day to see if any of the “backcountry” camping passes were available for the weekend. “Sure”, the helpful voice on the line said. “Where do you want to go?” I wasn’t sure, so she faxed over the list of places in the eastern half of the state. Scouted a couple on Google Earth, and faxed back my permit request. Easy as that. They emailed it over later that day.

Sunday after church, the boys and I loaded up the VW and drove over to Pachaug State Forest, and started hiking on one of the blue-blazed trails. I was playing it kind of conservative – there weren’t a whole lot of contour lines on the map, and it wasn’t much more than a mile and a half to the campsite.

The kids were great on the hike, despite a decent number of mosquitoes. We used a citronella-based repellent, and it worked decently well. The oldest had a blast on the hike, and the youngest made it about 3/4 of the way before he asked to be carried. Even then, I only had to let him ride on my shoulders for about a quarter mile until he was fine walking again.

The campsite was great, if not quite what I’d describe as “backcountry”. It was immediately adjacent to a boat launch and some state forest dirt roads. Turns out we could have driven there if we wanted to. But the hike was a great part of it.

Other than being a parking lot, the campsite was great. It was right at the deep end of a small impoundment, and we found red-eared sliders laying eggs on the dam. Plenty of good, flat space to run around. We purified a couple of bottles of water to replace what we’d drank on the hike, with both boys making sure they pumped a little bit, ’cause Chris and Martin did that on Zooboomafoo.

We unpacked, and the boys got a kick out of setting up a bear-bag for the evening. They were really, really disappointed the next morning when they hadn’t seen a bear during the night, which, I guess, means I hadn’t completely explained the concept of hanging food to them.

Supper was ramen noodles and GORP. After supper, the boys threw rocks for literally hours, and I had a chance to try out the old fly rod. Tied on a non-descript fuzzy thing with a pink head and butt, and tossed it out, mostly for the joy of being able to throw a long line without worrying about catching the elusive tree-fish.

To my amazement, I actually caught a fish. And not just any fish – at first I thought I’d snagged some lily pads, but then they started swimming to deeper water. Which was odd. Still, I wasn’t convinced it was a fish; maybe a log and some strange hydrodynamics…

Then the water boiled, and my next thought was that the fish was foul hooked (IE, not hooked in the mouth, but snagged) and I was dragging it through the water sideways. It stripped line off the reel, but finally, I dragged it to the shore, and was eye-to-eye with the biggest largemouth bass I’ve seen in my life. I lipped it, and saw the fly neatly stuck in the fish’s tongue. As I was working the fly out, I realized that this was a REALLY BIG fish – I could put my entire fist inside the sucker’s mouth.

The boys got a kick out of it – they’d only seen bluegill to this point, so seeing daddy haul this monster out was a trip. I went to great pains to explain that this fish was extraordinary, but they weren’t buying it. It’s good to be the king.

Somehow we got to sleep. Even though they’re tiny, a two-person backpacking tent is too small for a dad and two young boys. Especially when it’s COOL to sleep in a tent. Eventually we got to sleep, but it was like watching brownian motion in a cup as it cools – gradually less and less until an equilibrium is reached.

The next morning went better than expected. No crying from the big one on the hike back. The little one was exhausted from not getting enough sleep, so I carried him a lot more than on the way in.

All in all, it was phenomenal. Cannot wait to go again.

“End the War in My Rack”

Frickin’ cancer. It keeps popping up close enough to me to make me queasy. But there are amazing stories coming out about survivorship. The latest is a FOAF (Friend of a Friend), a woman I went to college with, who’s battling breast cancer again. From an email from our common friend:

She participated in the Relay for Life, which is an all night relay race to celebrate cancer survivorship and promote cancer funding. Her team decided on a military, combat theme and wore camouflaged t-shirts which read, “End the War in My Rack.”

Amazing. Would that I had 1/10th the intestinal fortitude and courage of folks like that.

I wish there were more I could do than pray and throw some bones the way of folks working for cures.

Y’all be well.

Beaten by a girl

(Not that there’s anything wrong with that)

It’s insanely beautiful up here. Worst part about summer at the Southern New England shore? Work. Tell me that it’s OK to spend a minimum of 40 hours inside when blue skies the color turquoise, filled with puffy white skies beckon. Tell me that, and I’ll call you a liar.

Work’s busy but great. My clients are happy, my projects are making progress (slowly), and I’ve currently only got a couple of developing personnel crises. Luckily, I’ve just had my 1 year anniversary, so I’m no longer a “provisional” employee. If I can spend some quality time with the requisition system tomorrow, I’ll go into the holiday feeling pretty good about life.

I applied for the backpacking permit for a Connecticut State Park for part of the weekend – the boys and I are going to go see if they’re ready to spend the night in the woods. Actually, scratch that – we’re GOING to go spend the night in the woods, far enough from the car that we can’t bail out at midnight and go home, and see if we get any sleep. My money’s 50/50 that the youngest pretty seriously freaks out. The oldest was asking to take his own tent – I put the kaibosh on that, ’cause (a) it’s one less potential freak out to deal with; and (b) I don’t want to carry it. The campsite is less than a mile from the car, so I don’t think anyone will get too tired.

I got home from the Y tonight, and Missy said “Wow, you look terrible. Swimming must really kill you.”

The problem, my friends, started after I’d done a 250m breast set and a 250m freestyle set. A woman started swimming in the lane immediately next to me, despite an empty entire rest of the pool. Long, languid, lazy strokes of freestyle – next to no splashing when the arms went in; really, really smooth rotary breathing every third stroke.

I started another set at one of her turns, and did 250m free pretty much keeping pace with her. She was turning again just as I finished the fifth lap. I rested a lap, and then started another 250m free, this time trying the fancy breathing on BOTH sides. Didn’t drown quite so much as usual. Almost, but not quite.

She’s still going. Splish, splish, splish, breathe, splish, splish, splish…

So, I do one last 250m free, trying to be relaxed and easy, breathing to the left every fourth stroke – she’s still there.

I thought about doing a final set of 5 laps, but decided that the honorable thing was to admit defeat and move on. I think she closed the place down.

Good on her.

Terramuggus Tri kicks off 14 June. I’m going to try to be there. For the record, it’s going to flat out kill me.

Easy as Fishin’

Nothing physical on Wednesday. Had to get into the office early to support a couple of meetings, and then get home early to support Missy’s book club.

IN support of the book club, the boys and I made ourselves scarce. Quick stop at the KFC, and then on to a little pond to go fishing. Good times.

There were rocks upon which to climb, ducks to look at, and a brand-new SpiderMan fishing pole for the youngest. Getting the SpiderMan fishing pole involved a stop at walmart, where the kid then insisted upon hanging from my arm and swinging around like Peter Parker just out of pull-ups.

Jake had the task of digging worms. Our yard is crazy with them, and last year he did an admirable job in getting them out. So, no question existed in my mind when I got home, and he handed me a plastic box with some dirt in it that it was crazy full of nightcrawlers.

7-year olds need backup. The neighbor-girl, who’s going to be a nightmare for her folks when she hits about 13, dumped out the worms ’cause she didn’t want Jake to hurt them. Jake added a couple of tiny, tiny, tiny worms when she wasn’t looking, and a centipede, and that was what we went fishing with.

Or, more accurately, dumped off the dock before we pulled out the jigs.

No fish, but the boys and I had a great time watching the shadows grow long and envelop the world. We left just as the tireds started to sink in with the youngest, and he started complaining about being cold, and asking for a flashlight. Good times.

Spring

No doubt about it, there are few things so spectacular and enduring as a New England spring. Sure, the bluebonnets in Texas are amazing, but that’s a couple of weekends. New England spring is months. The trees are finally out, and you’ve never seen so many shades of green, from the extremely pale of the sugar maple in my back yard to the deep, deep green of new pine needles.

Then, there’s the flowering trees. From the tulip tree and the other one in my yard, I pass the forsythia bush, with it’s annual warning of yellow flowers that spring is at hand, which is just now losing the last bit of brilliant yellow. There’s the apple orchard at the top of the hill, bedecked in white blossoms with the promise of apples, and the crabapple at the office, which is showering the cars in the parking lot with pink petals.

I suppose for a show like this, you need 6 months of winter as rehearsal.

Ran on Tuesday, swam last night. The run was good, but I’m having a little bit of ankle trouble again in the mornings. I hope it’s because I’m not stretching enough, but as my schedule straightens out, I may have to go see a doctor, ’cause this is just getting ridiculous now.

The swim was good. The run was good, but mostly because it was just a run.

Swing by Complete Running – they just went over a thousand RSS subscribers. Good things are happening in the internet running world. Good things.

Actually, speaking of running evangelism, I’m getting my buddy Christian back on the road this week. Now to pick back up with the Jons.

Not another one…

A long-time friend’s kid – about the same age as my youngest – got diagnosed with cancer this week. It’s a type and a prognosis where the kid’s likely to live, but it’s going to be a tough 18 months or so for the family.

This type of stuff ought not happen.

There’s not much I can do about it – they’re across the country. So, I’ll pray, and stick a couple of bucks in the Dana Farber can when they pass it around the movie theatre.

Fsck.

There are not many things that can wrench me from sleep in a cold sweat, and not much that can flap me. Generally, I can rationalize and relax as soon as I’m sure that nobody’s in immediate danger. But the thought that something like this could happen to one of MY kids – stops me cold.

Now that I’ve brought everybody down, I had a good run today. Jamestown, 4+ miles, went and got wet in the North Atlantic at the end. The ocean was painfully cold.With the arrival of spring, the fog’s back in Newport. It’s tough to comprehend exactly how much of an elemental force the fog can be, but the combination we’ve got now with extremely cold water and warm, humid air – watching the fog roll up and down the bay is incredible. It’s like a living organism, changing from minute to minute.

It was good to strap on the sneaks and iPod and just not think for a while. To feel the water suck the warmth out of my legs at the end of the day.

Belated Bloggeversary

So, I completely missed my annual chance at narcissism – 21 April marked three years of my blogging about not running nearly as often as I should.

What have I learned in that time?
1) Wet cotton tees and humid days make bloody nipples
2) Running and eating crap keep you fat
3) It’s a lot easier to keep running when you know that people are checking up on you
4) There are fewer freaks on the internet than we’ve been lead to believe

Three years ago, I was starting out at about 190 lbs, where I’d been for about three years. I’ve been between 170 and 175 for the last 30 months, more or less. Back then, three miles was a stretch. Now, it’s a minimum. I’m two marathons, a handful of tris, and a bunch of shorter races to the better.

And a whole lot of inspiration from wonderful folks around the world.

You guys rock.

**** Added ****

Dave, in the comments, mentions I’m not looking for freaks in the right places.  I suppose that I wasn’t specific enough – the RBF is full of running freaks. Maybe “creeps” would have been a better word?

I love you freaks.

Why I am a luckier man than you

Amigos y amigas, I hate to break it to you, but I lead a charmed life. New England’s a forgotten treasure, my job is out-freakin’-standing and challenging, and, most importantly, my wife is absolutely amazing.

I’ve got a confession to make – I blew off biking this afternoon, as work somewhat interfered. But, I did spend some quality time watching a trout stream on the way home. There’s something mesmerizing about a trout stream in the spring – water in constant motion, mayflies hatching, and the subtle, nearly imperceptible rings left from the rise.

The spot I stopped was at a dam that dated to the mid-1700s, flanked by the foundations of two abandoned mills. The water flowing over the dam was tea-colored, stained with the tannin of acres of fallen leaves, clear and cold. Amazing. I dusted off my fly rod this evening.

Anyway, I made it home slightly earlier than normal. Supper was good, and as we were finishing up, Missy reminded me that Tuesday’s a great night to swim. (See how lucky I am?)

So, I tucked the kids in and headed to the Y.

Next to no-one in the pool. 1,000 yards – first time I’ve hit four digits in over a year (I think). Swimming felt good. I can’t quite pin it down, but maybe it’s a side-effect of riding the mountain bike and working the upper body?

Little snack of dried berries and chocolate chips when I got home, and time to hit the rack.