Today was supposed to be a swim day. But cloudless blue skies and 65 degrees begged me for a run, and I just couldn't say no. Part of that living in the moment type training that is good both for the body and the soul...
I try not to over-evaluate, and overanalyze, as a general rule. I accept that things go wrong, that I do and will f**k up royally, again and again, and not because I'm a bad person but because I'm a a person. And I accept that I am mortal, that there will be a time when I am in too much pain, or too sick, or too weak, to walk to my mailbox or to tie my own shoes. And I am not afraid.
Josh has worked with me, occasionally for me; and, I'm lucky to say has been my friend, for several years. He is younger than me.
He was diagnosed a few weeks ago with metastatic cancer.
He started vomiting one morning, came to the ED to get some phenergan and a bag of IV fluid, and we found a nasty invasive cancer eating away his organs.
23 years old...
Now chemotherapy and radiation therapy and operations...
I'm sure JB never thought in a million years he would be struggling to live, but he is. He will.
And it sure as hell makes me want to run just a little bit harder...
And it allows me to cry... And smile... And love and hope... And dream...
And to reach out to someone who needs me, and to open my soul when I realize I need her...
Because I am mortal... And I am not afraid.
And that's why I live...
Not breathe and eat and sleep, but live...
Live.
November 6, 2006
November 4, 2006
midnight musings
I've had a story rumbling around inside me for a few months now. I don't know why it decided to bubble its way to the surface at midnight this am when Anna woke me crying after she hit her poor head on the porcelain sink while she was trying to pull up her panties after going potty (another reason I'm thankful to be a guy, by the way - no worries about bending over in the middle of the night...)
I used to have a crush on a girl, a lady, named Robin. Oh it didn't last long. I have a few rules about my crushes, and one includes trying to stay clear of those who happen to be married. Especially married to big guys. And cops, especially undercover ones. And guys that carry guns. Well, Shane was all of those, so my crush on Robin was over as soon as it began.
I liked Robin I think more for what she didn't do on one specific occasion than for anything she ever did. You see, I'm a sucker for courage... And strength... And independence, most of the time... And standing up for what you think is right when everyone else says you are wrong.
I didn't know Robin when this happened, but it happened. Its been a year probably since I heard about this, 5 years probably since she did it. Wow...
Where I Belong (Robin’s Song)
His daddy was a rich doctor
I was just adopted
By a teacher who could
Never find a man.
He gave me all I’d ever need
I was so in love with him.
He was the one I’d
Dreamed of for so long.
And it ain’t right.
And it ain’t wrong.
Sometimes love just seems wrong.
And it ain’t right.
And it ain’t wrong.
I’m looking for the place I belong.
A hundred family,
Friends, and us
Gathered at the Tower
There in France.
Four o’clock the bells they rang
He stood in front with a wedding ring
I watched the whole thing
Through my tears.
And it ain’t right.
And it ain’t wrong.
Sometimes love just seems wrong.
And it ain’t right.
And it ain’t wrong.
Looking for the place I belong.
Sometimes I don’t know why
I do what I decide
But I just turned and
Ran as fast as I could.
All the way to Charles de Gaul
Hopped the first plane that I saw
Took me back to Huntsville
To my home.
And it ain’t right.
And it ain’t wrong.
Sometimes love just seems wrong.
And it ain’t right.
And it ain’t wrong.
Still looking for the place I belong.
And it ain’t right. And it ain’t wrong.
Someday I’ll find where I belong.
I used to have a crush on a girl, a lady, named Robin. Oh it didn't last long. I have a few rules about my crushes, and one includes trying to stay clear of those who happen to be married. Especially married to big guys. And cops, especially undercover ones. And guys that carry guns. Well, Shane was all of those, so my crush on Robin was over as soon as it began.
I liked Robin I think more for what she didn't do on one specific occasion than for anything she ever did. You see, I'm a sucker for courage... And strength... And independence, most of the time... And standing up for what you think is right when everyone else says you are wrong.
I didn't know Robin when this happened, but it happened. Its been a year probably since I heard about this, 5 years probably since she did it. Wow...
Where I Belong (Robin’s Song)
His daddy was a rich doctor
I was just adopted
By a teacher who could
Never find a man.
He gave me all I’d ever need
I was so in love with him.
He was the one I’d
Dreamed of for so long.
And it ain’t right.
And it ain’t wrong.
Sometimes love just seems wrong.
And it ain’t right.
And it ain’t wrong.
I’m looking for the place I belong.
A hundred family,
Friends, and us
Gathered at the Tower
There in France.
Four o’clock the bells they rang
He stood in front with a wedding ring
I watched the whole thing
Through my tears.
And it ain’t right.
And it ain’t wrong.
Sometimes love just seems wrong.
And it ain’t right.
And it ain’t wrong.
Looking for the place I belong.
Sometimes I don’t know why
I do what I decide
But I just turned and
Ran as fast as I could.
All the way to Charles de Gaul
Hopped the first plane that I saw
Took me back to Huntsville
To my home.
And it ain’t right.
And it ain’t wrong.
Sometimes love just seems wrong.
And it ain’t right.
And it ain’t wrong.
Still looking for the place I belong.
And it ain’t right. And it ain’t wrong.
Someday I’ll find where I belong.
November 2, 2006
my moment
I've never been an alcoholic, and I've never been to an AA meeting. But I have heard often of the moment of clarity that can occur through the fog of alcoholism, a moment that allows you to visualize the path to recovery.
I had a moment of clarity this morning about 800 yards into my swim.
I realized that to swim well, you must have good form.
Now that sounds pretty damn simple, but the more I thought about it the more layers of understanding I was able to peel off the complexities of my life. I suddenly understood why, or at least one of the reasons why, my relationships haven't worked even though I felt like I was trying so damn hard to make them work.
I always have valued endurance. And I always have thought that if you endure, you will conquer. This concept has been ingrained into me since early childhood. If you just read the vocabulary list enough times, you will be able to remember the words for the test. If you go to the weightroom more than your teammates, you eventually will press more than they can. If you start early and put a little money away for a long time, you will retire wealthy. If you can tolerate 4 years of college then 4 more years of med school and then another 4 years of residency then you can be an emergency physician. Endurance led to success.
And what better sport for someone, in whom the concept of endurance leads to success is ingrained, then triathlon?
It all started to fall apart when I realized that for me there was not a direct relationship between time spent in pool and either performance during race or perception of improvement. This troubled me. The bike was easy - ride a long time and you will be able to ride a long time. Run a lot, and you will be able to run a lot. At least that is what I always thought. My mediocre-at-best results I attributed to lack of natural talent.
So I started talking to some friends who were swimmers, and even had a pool session with a friend who was a several time NCAA All American and former NCAA national champion swimmer. She told me some things I was doing wrong, and I tried to correct them. But I still thought that if I just swam enough, I eventually would learn to swim efficiently. Extra work surely would equal better performance. It didn't.
Finally I turned to my favorite resources, Google and youtube. On youtube I studied Ian Thorpe's stroke. On google I sought out and found tons of comprehensive info on proper form, on drills to develop muscle memory and form.
I learned to prolong my stroke.
I learned that my swim golf score was very close to my embarrasing too-high-to-count real golf score.
I learned to use my forearm and not just my hand during the catch and pull.
I learned to rotate my body along its horizontal axis.
I still haven't learned how to breathe, but I guess I haven't drowned yet (that will have to be the next research topic)...
The last few weeks I have started to apply these concepts; and, like any new athletic movements, these too have felt amazingly awkward.
Until today...
Today I didn't think about swimming downhill - it was just happening. I didn't think about entering the water elbow high - it was just happening. I didn't think about extending my lead hand before I pulled - it was just happening.
And then my moment...
Endurance alone doesn't always work. If you seek to have success and happiness at your destination, you have to have proper mechanics and good form during your journey.
I used to tell myself (and others) that I never thought I would get divorced because "I am committed to being committed." Endurance. No matter what, I will stick with it and that dedication will make it work.
A relationship is intricately effected by an infinite number of variables. You can't read a book and make a relationship work. You can't do a google search and make a relationship work. You can't youtube a video about a loving couple and expect your relationship to be great. It just ain't that simple...
For a relationship to work, it takes both persons being dedicated to and constantly striving to achieve perfect form.
Perfect mechanics.
One person can't make it work. And sticking with it just to stick with it won't make it work. It takes constant and mutual attention, constant and mutual research, constant and mutual flexibility, constant and mutual understanding, constant and mutual sacrifice, constant and mutual work.
Thank god learning proper swimming form isn't as difficult as making a relationship work. If it were, I wouldn't stand a chance.
But we live, and we learn. And we love, and we learn. And those we love, we sometimes lose. It isn't always our fault, although it frequently seems that way.
Relationships are complicated.
For me, today, I moved a step closer to someday maybe having a successful one...
I had a moment of clarity this morning about 800 yards into my swim.
I realized that to swim well, you must have good form.
Now that sounds pretty damn simple, but the more I thought about it the more layers of understanding I was able to peel off the complexities of my life. I suddenly understood why, or at least one of the reasons why, my relationships haven't worked even though I felt like I was trying so damn hard to make them work.
I always have valued endurance. And I always have thought that if you endure, you will conquer. This concept has been ingrained into me since early childhood. If you just read the vocabulary list enough times, you will be able to remember the words for the test. If you go to the weightroom more than your teammates, you eventually will press more than they can. If you start early and put a little money away for a long time, you will retire wealthy. If you can tolerate 4 years of college then 4 more years of med school and then another 4 years of residency then you can be an emergency physician. Endurance led to success.
And what better sport for someone, in whom the concept of endurance leads to success is ingrained, then triathlon?
It all started to fall apart when I realized that for me there was not a direct relationship between time spent in pool and either performance during race or perception of improvement. This troubled me. The bike was easy - ride a long time and you will be able to ride a long time. Run a lot, and you will be able to run a lot. At least that is what I always thought. My mediocre-at-best results I attributed to lack of natural talent.
So I started talking to some friends who were swimmers, and even had a pool session with a friend who was a several time NCAA All American and former NCAA national champion swimmer. She told me some things I was doing wrong, and I tried to correct them. But I still thought that if I just swam enough, I eventually would learn to swim efficiently. Extra work surely would equal better performance. It didn't.
Finally I turned to my favorite resources, Google and youtube. On youtube I studied Ian Thorpe's stroke. On google I sought out and found tons of comprehensive info on proper form, on drills to develop muscle memory and form.
I learned to prolong my stroke.
I learned that my swim golf score was very close to my embarrasing too-high-to-count real golf score.
I learned to use my forearm and not just my hand during the catch and pull.
I learned to rotate my body along its horizontal axis.
I still haven't learned how to breathe, but I guess I haven't drowned yet (that will have to be the next research topic)...
The last few weeks I have started to apply these concepts; and, like any new athletic movements, these too have felt amazingly awkward.
Until today...
Today I didn't think about swimming downhill - it was just happening. I didn't think about entering the water elbow high - it was just happening. I didn't think about extending my lead hand before I pulled - it was just happening.
And then my moment...
Endurance alone doesn't always work. If you seek to have success and happiness at your destination, you have to have proper mechanics and good form during your journey.
I used to tell myself (and others) that I never thought I would get divorced because "I am committed to being committed." Endurance. No matter what, I will stick with it and that dedication will make it work.
A relationship is intricately effected by an infinite number of variables. You can't read a book and make a relationship work. You can't do a google search and make a relationship work. You can't youtube a video about a loving couple and expect your relationship to be great. It just ain't that simple...
For a relationship to work, it takes both persons being dedicated to and constantly striving to achieve perfect form.
Perfect mechanics.
One person can't make it work. And sticking with it just to stick with it won't make it work. It takes constant and mutual attention, constant and mutual research, constant and mutual flexibility, constant and mutual understanding, constant and mutual sacrifice, constant and mutual work.
Thank god learning proper swimming form isn't as difficult as making a relationship work. If it were, I wouldn't stand a chance.
But we live, and we learn. And we love, and we learn. And those we love, we sometimes lose. It isn't always our fault, although it frequently seems that way.
Relationships are complicated.
For me, today, I moved a step closer to someday maybe having a successful one...
October 31, 2006
voyeur
Sometimes we write things, and we have no specific purpose in writing them. The beauty of the blog is that a lot of us find it easier to type than to write; so a blog for us is essentially a diary, or journal.
Writing your feelings/emotions objectifies those feelings. It takes away the wishy/washy, the subjective, the "maybe this is what I think" that is replaced 20 seconds later by "no this is what I really think." Some writers use the blog at times as a journal, a sort of diary for the electronic age. And those of us who are fortunate enough to read those entries essentially are voyeurs into the private life of the writer.
And as voyeurs, we must sit passively in the back, quietly, respectful of the actors, until the play is over or our criticism is solicited.
Writing your feelings/emotions objectifies those feelings. It takes away the wishy/washy, the subjective, the "maybe this is what I think" that is replaced 20 seconds later by "no this is what I really think." Some writers use the blog at times as a journal, a sort of diary for the electronic age. And those of us who are fortunate enough to read those entries essentially are voyeurs into the private life of the writer.
And as voyeurs, we must sit passively in the back, quietly, respectful of the actors, until the play is over or our criticism is solicited.
October 27, 2006
1 year
I decided to become fit during a period of self examination 1 year ago this week. Working overnight was taking its toll on me; well, I suppose if I am honest with myself, it actually was working overnight and then working a 12 hour day shift at a different hospital in between 2 overnight shift twice a week, then being dad on the other days. 70 + hours at work in addition to solo caretaker for 4 kids 4 or 5 days and a few nights a week. Wow was I a moody bas*ard.
So I changed. I stopped the extra work. But I started feeling guilty about having 2 days to myself, sans kids, sans work (although I still worked night before and night after) I needed something else to fulfill me, and I found it - crossfit.
Crossfit is run by a seasoned fitness trainer named Greg Glassman. He is a champion of efficient use of body weight exercises mixed with olympic lifts and gymnastics. By following his 20 or 30 minute a day workouts, I developed, maybe re-developed after a prolonged multi-year period of dormancy, a passion for fitness. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't that good of a crossfitter, but I did the posted exercises, sometimes in entirety sometimes scaled to my ability. This gave me a great base for transitioning into tri training.
But the thing I discovered that was paramount to my life was that obtaining a certain level of fitness completely levelled me. I'm still moody, I'll blame my dad for that, but none of my nurses have made formal complaints to hospital administration (yes I am exageratting Jan) in months now! I am more rested. I sleep better - occasionally. I think I need less sleep now - that my perception, although I can't tell you for the life of me why you would need less sleep after cycling for 40 miles with 2000 feet elevation gain then you would if you instead had sat at home and watched the tour on tv. Just doesn't make sense, G.
And I am a better dad now. The kids don't care that I don't have as much money. They have a dad that isn't moody. They have a dad that comes to eat lunch with them at school. They have a dad who isn't so tired he falls asleep while driving them to school. They have a dad who gets on his hands and knees and puts dinosaur claws on his hands to play monster. They have a dad who takes them running around the neighborhood to "practice" for their first 1 mile road race, whenever they decide that will be.
Life presents us with all sorts of challenges. Sometimes, we don't get it right the first time around. And we have a choice, to accept relative (or actual) defeat and bow down and wimper. Or to accept that there must be change, to MAKE change, and then to kick ass. But while we are kicking ass, we are doing it with the knowledge that we may fail again. But that's ok. Because failure is only failure when it doesn't eventually give way to success, sweet sweet sweet... success.
So I changed. I stopped the extra work. But I started feeling guilty about having 2 days to myself, sans kids, sans work (although I still worked night before and night after) I needed something else to fulfill me, and I found it - crossfit.
Crossfit is run by a seasoned fitness trainer named Greg Glassman. He is a champion of efficient use of body weight exercises mixed with olympic lifts and gymnastics. By following his 20 or 30 minute a day workouts, I developed, maybe re-developed after a prolonged multi-year period of dormancy, a passion for fitness. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't that good of a crossfitter, but I did the posted exercises, sometimes in entirety sometimes scaled to my ability. This gave me a great base for transitioning into tri training.
But the thing I discovered that was paramount to my life was that obtaining a certain level of fitness completely levelled me. I'm still moody, I'll blame my dad for that, but none of my nurses have made formal complaints to hospital administration (yes I am exageratting Jan) in months now! I am more rested. I sleep better - occasionally. I think I need less sleep now - that my perception, although I can't tell you for the life of me why you would need less sleep after cycling for 40 miles with 2000 feet elevation gain then you would if you instead had sat at home and watched the tour on tv. Just doesn't make sense, G.
And I am a better dad now. The kids don't care that I don't have as much money. They have a dad that isn't moody. They have a dad that comes to eat lunch with them at school. They have a dad who isn't so tired he falls asleep while driving them to school. They have a dad who gets on his hands and knees and puts dinosaur claws on his hands to play monster. They have a dad who takes them running around the neighborhood to "practice" for their first 1 mile road race, whenever they decide that will be.
Life presents us with all sorts of challenges. Sometimes, we don't get it right the first time around. And we have a choice, to accept relative (or actual) defeat and bow down and wimper. Or to accept that there must be change, to MAKE change, and then to kick ass. But while we are kicking ass, we are doing it with the knowledge that we may fail again. But that's ok. Because failure is only failure when it doesn't eventually give way to success, sweet sweet sweet... success.
October 20, 2006
Inspitation from Anna
Sometimes you get a bit of inspiration that hits you like a slap in the face - completely unexpected.
This week has been fairly typical for me. I worked overnights on Saturday thru Thursday. I'm sure there were lives saved, the typical battles against emphysema and acute coronary syndrome, and the ever constant interactions with the acutely psychotics with whom I tend to enjoy a little more than I would like to admit. I think being able to see crazy people in the ER helps me keep from tilting too far in that direction.
And I trained, although not as much as I wanted to. I ran some, with a pr long run of 13 miles. It was the only running I have done since race for the cure last weekend. A little swimming, even less biking (a measly 14 stationary miles this morning...).
Lots of time being daddy. Frequently I am asked how I take care of the kids during the daytime after working all night. I never have a good answer, because I honestly am not sure how to answer. It is absolutely insane actually, but it h as to be done. The oldest girls have to get to school and back home, and to ballet and of course to Barnes and Noble for reading and yummy cookies. The younger two just need daddy, Anna to have someone to play with and sing to and say I love you to (so often it is adorable), and Aidan it seems mainly to point out every tractor and firetruck to (again and again and again until I acknowledge that yes Aidan, there is another tractor, and to be as interested as I was 64 tractors or 20 minutes ago...).
So this morning I got a reminder of how much pleasure I get from the most simplest of things. Poor Anna is 3 and has always had a little trouble with constipation. I heard her struggling on the potty this morning, and, as usual, I went to see if I could help in any sanitary way. I sat down in front of her, let her lean into me and wrap her arms around my neck while I rubbed her low back. And so we were for what seemed like 10 or 15 minutes until at last "Daddy it's coming!!!" And after she finished and found me in the playroom dressing Aidan, she ran to me and hugged me and in her oh-so-sweet voice, "Thank you daddy for helping me go stinky. I love you!" I love you too Anna...
This week has been fairly typical for me. I worked overnights on Saturday thru Thursday. I'm sure there were lives saved, the typical battles against emphysema and acute coronary syndrome, and the ever constant interactions with the acutely psychotics with whom I tend to enjoy a little more than I would like to admit. I think being able to see crazy people in the ER helps me keep from tilting too far in that direction.
And I trained, although not as much as I wanted to. I ran some, with a pr long run of 13 miles. It was the only running I have done since race for the cure last weekend. A little swimming, even less biking (a measly 14 stationary miles this morning...).
Lots of time being daddy. Frequently I am asked how I take care of the kids during the daytime after working all night. I never have a good answer, because I honestly am not sure how to answer. It is absolutely insane actually, but it h as to be done. The oldest girls have to get to school and back home, and to ballet and of course to Barnes and Noble for reading and yummy cookies. The younger two just need daddy, Anna to have someone to play with and sing to and say I love you to (so often it is adorable), and Aidan it seems mainly to point out every tractor and firetruck to (again and again and again until I acknowledge that yes Aidan, there is another tractor, and to be as interested as I was 64 tractors or 20 minutes ago...).
So this morning I got a reminder of how much pleasure I get from the most simplest of things. Poor Anna is 3 and has always had a little trouble with constipation. I heard her struggling on the potty this morning, and, as usual, I went to see if I could help in any sanitary way. I sat down in front of her, let her lean into me and wrap her arms around my neck while I rubbed her low back. And so we were for what seemed like 10 or 15 minutes until at last "Daddy it's coming!!!" And after she finished and found me in the playroom dressing Aidan, she ran to me and hugged me and in her oh-so-sweet voice, "Thank you daddy for helping me go stinky. I love you!" I love you too Anna...
August 20, 2006
A Tri Bug is Born
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I've decided to try tri. Swim, bike, run. Various distance races are available to beat me down and mortify me. I started with the simplest and most accessible, the sprint triathlon at Mountain Lakes Triathlon. 600y swim, 16 mile bike, and 5k run.
This challenge was presented to me by one of my residents a month prior to the race. It seemed like fun, and I quickly ante'd up to the task. Later, as I was enjoying a corona and plotting the necessary evils required to prepare for the race, I had a what-the-hell-have-I-gotten-myself-into moment. I hate to run... I don't own a road bike... I've never swam a lap in my life... Oh *%@^...
The swim seemed the most daunting of the three. I made the plunge, and started trying to swim. Now, before I got in the pool, I watched the other swimmers for awhile. There was an eclectic group doing laps at the local Y that morning. There was the grandmother-type, maybe even great-grandmother, slowly devouring lap after lap after lap. There was the slightly balding attourney-type, with the muscular back and powerful stroke who occasionally was doing the catch-up drill. And others, all of whom obviously were well-versed in the art of the swim.
"This looks easy enough..." Or so I thought. 25 yards for the 1st lap... No problem. 25 yards back, and I was gasping for air. I managed about 500 yards over 25 minutes on that first day, and I realized I was in for the biggest physical challenge I had ever attempted.
I decided to not spend much time training for the run. I have, over the years, occasionally done the occasional 5k race, never finishing particularly strongly but always finishing. However, I did need a bike. My Stumpjumper wasn't going to work for me on the paved course at Mountain Lakes. I made the rounds to the local bike shops, but couldn't find anything that captured me enough to provide the inspiration for mile after mile after mile of solo riding.
So I turned to ebay and found a late model Cervelo in my price range. I had it overnighted and assembled in time for 1 good 10 mile urban training ride prior to raceday.
And then it was time to race! I surprisingly was not nervous, unlike previous 5k races from years ago when I would make multiple bathroom trips in the hour prior to racetime. The swim, not surprisingly, kicked my arse. Shortly after the 1st buoy on the triangle course, I found myself taking a backfloat rest. This was repeated several times over the 600 yard swim. I don't remember a happier moment in my life than when I stumbled my waterlogged body out of the water to start the bike ride.
Luckily the bike and run were drama-free, and I finished in a respectable 1:32.
I learned 2 things from this race: 1. Don't undertrain!, and 2. I have the tri bug... I will be back, and my next goal is the Music City Tri, a 1.5/40/10.
I eagerly anticipate every bike ride, and I no longer am afraid of the swim. I will conquer the swim. I still hate the run. I am rationalizing that I will concentrate on swim and bike improvement for this next race, then begin to work on the run.
And this time, I will be ready...
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