Memory Lane - Trip

All this week I have been in Deer Park, spending time with my family and celebrating my Mom's Birthday. Mom is 84 and going strong. It was good fun hanging out with everyone this week. I did pretty well with staying on track with training and diet. Naturally, it was not strict sticking to the schedule and I did not eat as well as normal but all in all, did well.

On Thursday evening, I went for a run through the neighborhood that I grew up in. I lived in Deer Park from about 7^th grade up until we moved to Austin, so I am very familiar with the area. I did about a 5-6 mile run through Deer Park. As I ran and passed different sites in the city, lots of memories came back to mind. A city warehouse now sits where the Rodeo Arena was. I used to sneak in there and watch rodeo on Saturday nights. I passed over the drainage ditch where I played around as a kid. Later as an adult, I would use the drainage ditch as a way to ride with Kelly. The ditch snakes its way around the city and it had a service road built on the side of it. I would ride my bike with the kiddy seat and pick her up from daycare, then ride the ditch to get back home. I never had to worry much about traffic, just riding straight and having to explain what certain graffiti meant.

One thing that struck me as odd was seeing a utility pole guy line. Those heavy cables that run at a 45 degree angle from the ground up to the pole to help stabilize it. We see these everywhere and we do not even notice them but this one had some significance. I am sure everyone has a special bond with a guy wire. As I ran by the guy wire, I thought back to Halloween when I was 13. Two friends and I were out raising as much hell as 13 year olds can. Old Man Harston was the neighborhood crabby old man. He was the one that yelled at you to stay off his lawn. He would glare at you when you walked in front of his house. His house and yard were always perfectly maintained. Well on Halloween night, Jay, Gary and I decided that Old Man Harston needed to sell his house and that we should be his realtor. For this, we needed a lot of For Sale signs. We started running through the neighborhood, pulling up all the "For Sale" signs we could find. We would collect them all in a pile near Old Man Harstons house. When we had a huge pile of signs, we started deploying them into Harstons yard. We were sneaking back and forth, giggling as we put the signs in his yard. The yard was transformed into a forest of "For Sale" signs. I had the last sign and was cramming it into the ground, when all of the sudden, a flood light came on. Jay took off to the right side of the house, away from the floodlight; Gary followed him and then me. This is where the guy line comes in. Jay turned the corner, headed towards the street when in the dark, he ran up to and on the guy wire. When I say on, I mean he ran up the wire and was straddling it. Jay's feet were just barely reaching the ground. Gary was not more than 3 feet behind him, when he too ran up and straddled the wire. Now Jay's feet were airborne and Gary's feet were just barely touching. Gary had hit Jay so hard that he drove him up the wire about 6 more inches. And then here I come. I repeated the collision so now we had three people straddling the wire. We looked like a bobsled team because no sooner had I hit them when in unison, we all flipped to the right and fell on the ground, our left feet hanging from the wire, our bodies on the ground. In our minds, Old Man Harston was still chasing us so we scrambled to get untangled, nurse our injuries and get out of there as fast as possible. Despite some superficial groin injuries, nothing happened. No one was chasing us. We never figured out why the floodlight came on. The following morning we rode our bikes past the house and started laughing because not only were our signs there, but someone else had picked up where we left off. The yard was full of "For Sale" signs. They were everywhere. We laughed so hard we almost fell off our bikes.

And now here is the part about the trip. As I was running down Center Street, the main street of Deer Park, I was passing in front of a car wash. The driveway exiting the car wash was drenched in water and Armour-All. You could actually see the white / gray of the sidewalk turn into the shiny black of the driveway. As I crossed over the driveway, I lost my footing and started falling. I clearly saw the ground coming at me. I have no idea how I did this but I avoided doing a full on face plant. I put my hands out and caught my fall. As I hit the ground, I dropped my left shoulder and rolled onto my back, did a complete roll and landed on my back. This was not intentional like I planned any of this. Something happened and instincts (not that I fall a lot), just took over. I am fine, my hands are really sore but nothing else. The bad part is I did this at the peak of traffic , on the main drag of Deer Park and the guy's working at the car wash gave me a 8.5 score for not sticking the landing.

Geriatric Guinea Pig

Last week = Good week. I finally (and I say finally with a sigh of relief) had a good run. More on that later. I was part of a medical study at UT. I was the "Old Fart Baseline" for a study in Arterial Aging. It was very interesting to say the least. Let me tell you, UT has lots of high tech gadgets and toys. Not sure of the names of these devices but they had lot of cables hooked to me, moving graphs, charts and the all important blinking lights. The study took about 4 hours. From it all, they took blood for analysis, ran a BMI test, VO2 Max test, Max HR, and about 4 other things that I have no clue about. The students that were running the tests were very professional and knowledgeable. As they went about their testing, I was amazed at the skill they showed. I had it easy, all I had to do was lay there and let them have their way with me. I had to laugh when they were drawing my blood. These students were doing everything to make me feel at ease, especially when it came to the blood draw. The student, who was going to do the draw, explained everything as he was prepping my arm. He had my arm stretched out, a rubber tube tied around my bicep as he talked. He had me make a fist a few time. As he started lining up the needle with the vein in my arm, he noticed my eyes get a little bigger and sensed that I was tensing up. He backed up a short way and started explaining again and telling me that he has been drawing blood samples for two years. Again, he started his approach; he moved closer and started aiming for my vein with the needle. I stopped making a fist, and he urged me to keep pumping. Again, he sensed my discomfort and went on to explain how quick and painless this actually was. I have been donating blood since I was 20 so I was not uncomfortable with being stuck with a needle. What I was uncomfortable with was how close to my hand his crotch was. Each time he moved in, his crotch was close, too close to my hand for me to ignore. As I clenched and unclenched my fist, there was a near miss between my hand and him. I can put my hand near a fire or the hot muffler and not feel as uncomfortable as I did now. I finally relaxed and let him put the needle in my arm. I ignored that his crotch was within an inch of my hand. I knew it would be over shortly. That was, until I heard him say, "Oh Darn". Let me just say that "Oh Darn" is not a phrase you want to hear when there is a needle in your arm. The vein in my arm had "rolled" and he missed it with the needle. He grabbed my other arm and said, "Let's try this other arm". So, here we go again, complete with hand – crotch proximity stress. He finally got the blood drawn and we were onto some other less stressful tests.
I probably won't ever see the outcome of this research, and I would not understand it if I did but they did give me some results. Weight 175, Max HR – 150, % body Fat – 19, BMI – 25.2, MPG -23 in the city, 26 Highway.   VO2 is 50 something or another per some other stuff.
Friday we had a 13 mile run on the schedule. With two really suck runs in the past three weeks; I needed a good solid run. Mentally, I prepped myself for this run. No matter what, I was going to run the whole way, no walking. I got up early, ate a small breakfast, drank some water and then headed downtown. My plan was to start out with everyone but would be willing to let them go as soon as I sensed things going into the toilet. Luckily, that never happened. There were about 6 of us running and due to traffic lights, pace and strength, everyone took off except Elizabeth and I. We fell into a good pace. We were able to run together the whole way. We are both accusing each other of hanging back for the other. I claim that she was hanging back to make sure I had a good run, she claims that she was having a tough day and that I was hanging back to help her. Overall, it does not matter; we both had a good morning. It was one of those runs that later in the day, you look back on it and are appreciative. You are thankful for your health, your abilities, and most of all your running partners. It was a special day.

I may be out of luck

Well, so far, all my Memory Card CSI has come up with nothing. I sent a letter to the church that was in a couple of pictures and have not heard back from anyone. I may be barking up the wrong tree because it dawned on me, those places in New Orleans, may no longer be around due to Hurricane Katrina. It is weird to think that these places in the pictures may have been wiped out. My scenario is that the owner of this camera memory card may have been evacuated to Houston and the places in the pictures no longer exist as they did before. I am not giving up yet. I will keep looking for clues. I know for sure that I cannot erase the card, just in case these places in New Orleans are in fact, gone.


I am feeling really good lately. My running sucks big time but other than that I feel pretty good. In the last three weeks I have had two really bad long runs. Painfully, they were both 10 mile outings and I usually bonked at the worst place. Twice now, I ran out of steam, at the furthest point from where I started. It has gone like this,

• Mile 1 – Feeling good, hanging with everyone else in the group. Gorgeous day, I love being outside, I love my team mates.
• Mile 2-3 – Uh-Oh, something isn't right but I will overcome this, I just need to warm up. Good bye everyone!!
• Mile 3 – Why do my clothes weigh so much? Did I accidently put on concrete shoes? Where is everyone? Who needs them anyway?
• Mile 4 – I will walk for a bit and get my heart rate to come down,, I think I forgot how to run,, I think I see someone up ahead, maybe I can catch them,, wait , it's a homeless person with a cowboy hat. Damn!!
• Mile 5 – Okay,, I am screwed,, I can't run,, I have a long walk back to the car,, unless I can get a taxi,, wait, no money, I have a long walk back to the car.
• Mile 6 – I hate this sport, I hate my shoes, I hate that I have to walk while carrying a water bottle. Look on the bright spot; I cannot get chafed while walking.
• Mile 7 – I am starting to hate other runners, who are they to judge me? Screw all you runners, you don't know me, I could have just ran 20 miles and I need to walk!! I am an Ironman damn it!!
• Mile 8 – Can I possibly jump in the lake swim across, cut out the last two miles? Hypothermia is not that bad?
• Mile 9 – I should have taken the swim option, there would at least have been the possibility of being rescued and taken back to my car. Damn, I am chafing.
• Mile 10 – I hate this sport, I hate my shoes, I hate my shirt, I love my car, I cannot wait to get warm,, why is there a homeless guy in a cowboy hat leaning against my car?

Well, we will see how it goes this week… stay tuned

Tooth Fairy

About every three years, whether it needs it or not (and it usually does need it), I clean up my bookshelves. They get cluttered with books that I have read, started reading or just bought and never read. Lots of books about getting organized, being a better person, how-to books that I never even opened. I think I try to get organized by osmosis. Anyway, after awhile, the shelves start filling up and the dust starts collecting. When I start cleaning up, it is close to the beginning of the year but it is not a New Year's Resolution. It is just coincidental.

Besides books, I have lots of pictures and knick-knacks on the shelves. Many of them are there to keep the books standing up. I have at least a dozen coffee cups that are mementos from all sorts of events. Four from the Iron Star Triathlon in Conroe, one from my 30 year high school reunion, and one from the Admirals Club in Chicago. If there was a Precious Moments collection for Caffeine, I would have a good start. One of the items on my shelf is a small ceramic statue shaped like the number 1, it's painted gold and at the bottom it says "#1 Dad". My daughter gave it to me for Father's Day way back when she was pre-school. I have always kept it within site. As I was moving it to scrape the dust off the shelf, there was a rattling sound from inside. I shook it again, and the rattling sound happened again, almost like a BB was in there. I did not have to look or shake it again, I knew what it was. It was a tooth.

Long ago, when Kelly was 3 or 4, she lost this tooth. As was the tradition in our family, we told her about the Tooth Fairy. If she left that tooth under her pillow, the Tooth Fairy would come in the middle of the night and leave her a gift in exchange for the tooth. That night, she put the tooth under her pillow and went to sleep. Unfortunately, our Tooth Fairy was an irresponsible one. The Tooth Fairy forgot. It was my habit to leave for work very early in the morning before everyone was awake. I got about 10 miles from the house when it dawned on me that I was supposed to play "Tooth Fairy". This was before cell phones; I could not call Ro and have her take over Tooth Fairy duty. All I could do was turn around, speed back home and hope that I made it back before Kelly woke up. I drove like a maniac to get back home. I was in luck, no one was awake. As I made my way through the house, I pulled a dollar bill out of my wallet and walked into Kelly's bedroom. She was just starting to wake up. Very coolly, I said "Good Morning, Sweetie", slid my hand under her pillow, exchanged the tooth and dollar, kissed her good morning, and told her to have a great day. I eased on out of her room, out of the house and back in my car. I pulled off all of this in about 3 minutes. Without even thinking about it, I had put the tooth into my pocket and drove into work.
Later in the day, I tried to pay for my coffee with fifty cents and a tiny incisor tooth. I could not bring myself to throw the tooth away; I had no idea what to do with it. Desk drawer? No. Paper clip tray? No. Pencil holder? No. Small ceramic statue shaped like the number 1? YES! And so, for the last 27 years, that statue has moved from desk to desk as I changed jobs. And the tooth has moved with it.
Is it sentimental? Or, is it just weird for hanging on to body parts?

And another reason

Every once in awhile I get asked why I do triathlons. There are a whole variety of reasons, some of which I have written about in the past. Recently, I met someone who asked me that same question. I really wanted to answer it but some things are hard to explain. So, we ended up actually talking about the aspects of being an athlete and competing. As we talked about it, we both came to a really good conclusion. Well, one that made sense anyway. So, if anyone asks me "the question" again, I am going to start out with "the answer".

In our lives we get singular events that stand out in our lives. Births, Weddings, parties, deaths, graduations, etc. These stellar days can be limited. Graduations - you can get a few of those, Births – you get a few of those, weddings – several of those but only a few that really stand out. I have been to a lot of weddings, and the ones that stand out are mine, my daughters and most recently some good friends. So you take all these events that stick in your mind, and that is all you have. So, one of the main reason I train and race is to add numbers to the spectacular events in my life. I can close my eyes and recount races, training runs and rides, I can remember training partners, some still around, some have moved on, but I remember them. Twenty six Sundays in a year, this year I will be racing on at least six of them. At the end of the year, I have six more days of events to add to my recollections, not to mention the many, many training days that are eligible for recall. So basically, I am stockpiling memories.