A couple weeks ago I participated in my 4th 24-hour challenge*, and it was by far the best experience I've had. Still not ready to call it an unqualified success, but lots of things were far better than they were the first three times...
*for those of you wondering about the rules, etc. surrounding this epic cycling event, I will refer you to this earlier blog post which explains it all...
I'll give you a blow-by-blow account, making sure that I warn you of some sections that will certainly be considered as "TMI" by some people (but they're still important parts of my story). Plenty of successes and a few things that, while not failures, probably could have gone better.
The event started out with probably the best decision I've ever made: we decided against camping on site at the middle school. T-K is only about 45 minutes away, so we figured that a good night's sleep in my own bed would be better than the possibility of tossing and turning all night in a tent (or, like last time, the back of a car - the tent was destroyed in a major rainstorm).
TMI section! One of the other reasons this turned out to be a great idea is my usual morning routine. I wake up early, read the paper (online), check Facebook, and have my, uh, morning constitutional. I'm sorry, but a public middle school bathroom or porta-potty just aren't the same as my own home bathroom. And don't underestimate the importance of routine. I made sure the entire week before the ride that my routine would not vary from the norm in as many aspects as possible. Waking up in my own bed and having my own bathroom kept me more focused.
Other parts of my morning that stayed the same were nutrition and hydration. No matter how I've tried on the overnights onsite, I never seem to hydrate well pre-ride. Probably because my usual morning consumption starts with two 12-ounce glasses of water, followed by a large bottle of Isagenix Greens to start the day. (That's supposed to be "Greens!," but I thought the exclamation point might confuse people...) So I actually started the day so well-hydrated that we had to stop about 20 miles out so I could pee. Morning routine complete! More on hydration later.
In addition to my morning liquids I wanted to make sure all week that I kept my food intake to good, clean foods and positive fuel. I know that there are people who can eat whatever they want and still be strong, consistent riders, but I am no longer one of those. So for me, starting about a week in advance, no alcohol, no animal products save for maybe a little cheese, no fried foods, etc. This was definitely different than the past! I stuck to protein shakes, green smoothies, and once or twice a bagel for breakfast, usually a shake for lunch as well, and a reasonably healthy dinner. Not only did I want my body well-fueled, it was also important that my digestive system didn't revolt. I passed on several foods during the week that may have fit my "clean" formula but were too spicy or otherwise risky. Whether all of that really worked or was more psychological I don't know, but I was feeling very good by Friday night before the ride.
What about nutrition and hydration on the ride? That is always a challenge. Usually the deficit is in the hydration. I don't always feel thirsty on a ride, so I don't always drink when I should. Not a problem for your average 25-miler around home kind of ride, but definitely a problem over 24 hours. Or even five or ten. Because once you get behind on hydration it is very difficult, if not impossible, to catch up. This year I promised myself I'd start drinking early and never stop. My goal was a bottle every 45 minutes to one hour, which turned out to be a good plan.
MORE TMI... When I last did this ride five years ago, I remember that I basically didn't pee from mile 75 to the end of the first loop (which is when I gave up). For those of you who wonder whether you are sufficiently watered, there are several ways to tell. The first and most obvious sign your body gives you is color. That would be the color of your urine. When you're exercising and stop for a break, check the shade of your pee. It should be as close to clear as possible; the darker/more yellow it becomes indicates that you are dehydrated. (For the record, I am happy to report that there was only one time during this event that this happened. The checkpoint at mile 96 seemed quite dark based on the rest of the day, but the ones remaining were fine. I even had to make an auxiliary pit stop between the mile 34 and 75 checkpoints, so I was good.)
Nutrition on the bike is another exciting challenge. I've seriously tried just about everything, from energy bars to energy "chews" (basically a gummi bear with carbs and electrolytes), to fruit, candy, and whatever else I could try. Lots of times the chewy stuff is too chewy, the energy bars are hard to deal with, and everything else falls somewhere between. Clif Bars, for instance, are one of my favorite things to supplement with. But the consistency of a Clif Bar means I'm using valuable energy just chewing the dang thing. It's too much work for the result.
This year I had the idea at some point that I would do a trial run sort of thing with a long ride (I planned 12 hours) made up of several laps so I could have a home base/checkpoint system similar to the event. (Usually a ride of more than, say, 50 miles is a long road ride during which I stop at convenience stores to buy drinks and food. I wanted something that would be closer to the event idea, where your crew meets you at the checkpoints and provides planned food and water.) So I mapped out a route from the bike shop and invited people to join me as I attempted 12 hours. I won't go into the details of the eventual 8-hour ride, but I did stop at the shop every 25 miles and was able to try some different food choices. My favorite was a thin version of my regular protein shake (another Isagenix product), along with GU gel, which has plenty of sugary carbs for energy. GU is also great while you're riding, because it gives you that boost without stopping or chewing; just rip open a tube and squeeze it down. My favorites are the chocolate, the peanut butter, and the berry flavors (if you time it right it's like having a PB&J sandwich...). On this ride I also downed at least a half-bottle of "rocket fuel," a concoction of the afore-mentioned Greens! mixed with Replenish and Ionix Supreme (go, Isa-riding!!)
So when the big ride became reality I knew how I was going to get my nutrition. During my long practice run (113 miles) I also made use of some pickle juice, but decided that it wasn't necessarily something I really needed. Pickle juice, with its salt, vinegar, and other elements, is supposed to be an amazing rehydrator. It tasted surprisingly OK, but...
So now I've been fed and watered and I'm on the bike. When I talk to people about my long rides the comments are many and varied, but frequently center around comfort. "How do you stay in that position for so long?" or "your butt must really hurt a lot" kind of things. So let's talk a little about comfort, because it absolutely does play a role. And yes, it's absolutely going to get into another TMI section!
First of all, if you think of any kind of bicycle, even a recumbent style, there are basically three points of contact with the human body: hands, butt, and feet. Everything else is just hanging around either getting in the way or catching too much wind and slowing you down.
Like your head. Holy cow do I have a large noggin... It must be my least aerodynamic feature. It's also heavy. So neck muscles, etc. have to be strong, but maybe more surprising is the idea of bike fit, which is virtually key to the success of any ride. If my body is in a decent position and I'm not tense, etc., then my head can hang up there and be basically OK even though it weighs about a metric ton.
But the feet, butt, and hands part is really where the bike fit comes in. Anyone who has ever complained about this or that being sore, numb, or otherwise uncomfortable has almost certainly ridden a bike that doesn't fit. If your bike fits you, your hands and arms don't get sore or numb. If your bike fits you, your feet and legs won't strain to operate. If your bike fits you, your butt won't get sore... (OK, that one'e a lie.) So yeah, things get a little tired - holding my head up over the 16 or so hours of ride time, keeping my hands on the bars, etc. were indeed difficult, but because my bike fits well, I only got tired - no pain or numbness.
Let's talk discomfort, though... TMI again, as you may have guessed. Lots of people come into the shop and ask about buying a new saddle (you can call it a seat if you want to) because of one discomfort or another. If you're a guy, the obvious discomfort deals with the "man business." SO MANY seats are designed with channels, cutouts, or other fexibilities built into them to avoid pressure on the penile nerve and other associated areas that it's somewhat humorous. It's not a bad idea, but I am a firm believer, after many hours in the saddle, that it's mostly marketing. My seat is a straightforward design by Fi-zik that is relatively firm with no cutouts, and it's fine. The shorts help, as does the general position on the bike, to keep things from going numb. This is at least partially related to bike fit as well, so pay attention when you're taking a test ride. Numbness anywhere isn't good, but especially there...
The other major discomfort I experienced was indeed my fat@$$. Which, when you think of where it contacts the seat, isn't really that fat. The sit bones, or ischial tuberosities (seriously?) at the bottom of the pelvis are the two main contact points with the seat. It's also near the place where your hips do their thing, so as you ride your sit bones are kind of grinding up and down and back and forth. Which is fine for a while, I guess. But around about mile 175 things started getting a little uncomfortable, and by mile 200 I would be standing up for a few seconds about every five minutes to relieve what felt like some serious chafing (though it turned out to be just sore). Not sure how you train that particular area of your body for an endurance event, but mine could have used a little more stamina. There's just not a lot of tissue between those bones and the outside of your body, and it kind of wears out!
There was only one other moderately-serious discomfort, and it turned out to be unrelated to anything man-made. I started experiencing some itching around mile 75 or so, right along the strap of my bib shorts. I'm used to wearing bibs, and the sets I have are all the same brand, so this was a new and unwelcome feeling. I tried moving the strap around a little from the outside of my jersey, but a few minutes later it was bad again. Another shift brought momentary relief, but I think it was the third time that I finally unzipped my jersey to have a look. Whatever bug was trying to eat its way out of my bibs was finally released and stopped biting my chest and flew away...
As far as the ride itself, maybe there should be a "Part 2" of this entry as this is getting a little long. Plus it's about lunch time. And I should maybe do something today that doesn't involve as much sitting. So I will add a second, shorter installment on this topic in the next day or so. There are things I'd like to tell you about the actual ride and how great I felt, as well as doing some thank yous and that sort of thing. So until then, I bid you a brief farewell and happy Independence Day. Go out and ride a bike!
Friday, July 3, 2015
Saturday, April 25, 2015
It All Started with Bob Jones
This post will be a departure from my regular (though not so regular the last few months...) posts, but I think it's important. I hope you enjoy it.
Yes, Bob Jones. Yes, the university. And a plastic drink mug that my brother-in-law Phil sent me. So let me take you back and give you the whole story...
It was 1986 and I was finishing up my degree at WMU. Sister Pam and her husband Phil took a trip to the Smokey Mountains that summer and stopped at a place for gas and food. It was there that Phil noticed a mug from Bob Jones University. "How cool is that?" he said, and immediately thought of me. Not because of our shared Christian beliefs or anything like that. Nope, it was because "if 'Bob Jones' can be the name of the university, then WE can be the name of a university!" He knew I would appreciate the idea that in addition to the venerable institutions of Harvard, Yale, Dartmouth, and MIT that there could be a moniker as simple as "Bob Jones." So he bought that plastic mug emblazoned with the BJU logo and sent it to me.
I started student teaching at East Kentwood HS that August. Band camp was the usual affair of learning new names, teaching drill, and seeing alumni return to visit the director. I was new to all of this at that time, of course, but the kids and staff and parents were pretty cool about getting me up to speed. At least two kids asked about my WMU experience. "My sister goes to Western," one trombone player declared. Yeah, kid, so do 25,000 other people... "Maybe you will meet her some day; she'll probably stop by band camp this week." She did.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, I had my trusty Bob Jones mug with me much of the time. Had to stay hydrated, after all, right? I think I was actually pursuing some sort of weight loss/control thing at the time, since it's been a pretty constant pursuit most of my adult life, so I had my water! One of the band moms, Lynn, was at school quite frequently helping out with uniforms. She had a table set up in the doorway of the uniform storage room and would come in to hem, mend, or otherwise take care of things for the kids. I'd walk out and chat with her occasionally, enjoying the break from whatever I was doing.
As it turns out, Lynn was the mom of the afore-mentioned trombone player and his sister; a third child would start band in the elementary school later that year. As it further turns out, the family attended a large local Baptist church. So my Bob Jones mug sort of caught her attention :)
Want the whole sordid tale? There's really not enough room or time. But I will give you some highlights. Dana did come to band camp on Thursday or Friday that week, and we went to lunch with Mark, her band director and my supervising teacher. I thought she was pretty cute; she thought I had brown eyes.
As the months went by I continued building my relationships with students, staff, and parents. Lynn and I held pretty regular conversations, mostly small talk, with good old Bob a constant companion - gotta stay hydrated!!
By the time Christmas was approaching, she knew that I went to Kalamazoo each week for class. She asked me one day if I could do her a favor: she had a package for her daughter that needed to arrive before Dana left for break, so would I mind maybe driving it down there and hand-delivering it on Wednesday? "Absolutely. No problem at all."
Though her total sham of a plan didn't work the way it was intended, I did get to see this wonderful young lady that Wednesday afternoon. We chatted for a while before I had to get to class and she had to return to cleaning her bathroom (the romance started pretty early...), so she took the unopened package with her and we parted company. What was in the package?? A pair of completely unnecessary-to-be-delivered-by-Wednesday mistletoe earrings... The scheme was that Dana would open the package and exclaim, "oh, look, mistletoe!" and we would hold them up and smooch. Riiigggghhht... Nice try, Lynn.
There's more to the rest of the story, most of which deals with brother Greg pestering me to ask her out, which I finally did when she visited school on the day before K-12 break began. I invited her to my upcoming graduation party, we had another date or two over the Christmas holidays, and then we were pretty much seeing each other weekly. The rest, as they say, blah, blah, blah. At some point Dan and Lynn moved to Columbia, TN when Dan took a job at newly-formed Saturn Corp.
**The full disclosure system was still being worked out at that time, and besides, Lynn didn't mention until later that the Bob Jones mug had anything to do with why she thought I would be a good match for her daughter... Suffice it to say I never knew that, and she had no idea that the Lutheran band teacher-to-be would end up a beer-brewing Democratic liberal. Maybe we both would have run the other way, but God apparently had other plans.**
But through it all there was Lynn. Dana's mom/my mother-in-law was always a caring and giving person. I mentioned to Greg during band camp that I liked lemon meringue pie; the next day there was a slice in the band office - leftover dessert from the previous night. Several years later when I was teaching in South Bend, she invited me and a friend to Tennessee for spring break. Brian and I took our bikes and enjoyed the southern weather and Dan and Lynn's southern hospitality. "Be sure to tell me what you two need on your training table - fruits, oatmeal, etc. - and I'll make sure I have it." She also had grits, eggs, and biscuits and gravy :)
Lynn always kept a welcoming home. Every season (every season) had decorations, tablescapes, and food. Thoughtful birthday and Christmas gifts were always given. To this day one of my favorites graces my living room - a beautiful brass sculpture of a sailboat under full sail, with an accompanying cross-stitch that reads, "Oh, God, your sea is so great and my boat is so small..." She knew I enjoyed the water and had spent time sailing with friends in high school.
When grandchildren started to arrive in 1993 she started keeping photographic records of pretty much everything, to the extent that the third bedroom in their house has been given over to scrapbooking. The final tally is some 60 books chronicling the lives of the entire family, from her marriage and early days with Dan, through Benjamin, Greg's youngest son - nine beautiful grandchildren. Each has at least one large memory book filled with pictures of great times with Grandpa (yep - since Lynn took most of the pictures, she appears in very few of them...) and the rest of the family.
When the cancer hit, Lynn was as positive as anyone. This was just another event on the road of life, God was in charge, and she would deal with things as she and Dan always had: with prayer and with each other. Through the chemotherapy and all of the uncomfortable procedures that brings, she remained upbeat and positive; pictures of her in a Rosie the Riveter outfit that she wore to her chemo treatments (proving she could fight with the best of them) even made it onto NBC's "Today" show.
By February of this year there was a very large tumor in Lynn's abdomen. Surgery was scheduled and performed, but the news was very sad: there was still plenty of cancer, and Lynn was too weak for further procedures. She elected to head home, call Hospice, and be comfortable.
Dana, her father, and her sister Lori all combined to care for Lynn. Dana flew to Tennessee and spent several days around the surgery, then returned before spring break when things became worse. The care that these three individuals provided was nothing short of heroic; every need was attended, every comfort provided as Lynn approached her last days.
By the time I arrived, Lynn was too weak to stand on her own. I watched misty-eyed as my father-in-law would carefully lift her from her chair and hold her gently as he rotated her frail body to the wheel chair which would transport her to bed, her hands resting on his arms, his eyes on her as he guided her steps. I thought of them as they might have been 50-some years ago: Dan, always much taller than Lynn, gazing down at his pretty girlfriend as they danced at prom. This year would have marked their 49th wedding anniversary. (There is a funny family story about Lynn "running away from home," but as it turned out, she got married first and then moved with Dan to the Army base in Texas where Dana was eventually born...)
After Easter Greg, his wife Beth, and their six children, through the amazing outpouring of support from Dan and Lynn's church, were able to make the flight from Spokane, Washington, and we were all together for several days that week. Nathan managed to drive down from MSU for Easter, and Erin did a couple of FaceTime sessions. We were sad that the cousins' paths didn't cross due to timing, but technology is a wonderful thing and we at least got some screen time.
Let's just say that the goodbyes that weekend were awful. It is always difficult for the family to head the 500 miles north after a visit, but this time was obviously different.
"Thanks for inviting me into your family 29 years ago; I hope it was as great for you as it has been for me."
"29 years? That's a long time," came the whispered response. "Take care of Dana and the kids for me."
I will, beautiful lady. I will. Rest in peace.
This was the closing hymn in church last Sunday. We sang it just after Dana received word that Lynn was very weak. Needless to say it came at a perfect time, though neither of us were able to finish all the verses...
Yes, Bob Jones. Yes, the university. And a plastic drink mug that my brother-in-law Phil sent me. So let me take you back and give you the whole story...
It was 1986 and I was finishing up my degree at WMU. Sister Pam and her husband Phil took a trip to the Smokey Mountains that summer and stopped at a place for gas and food. It was there that Phil noticed a mug from Bob Jones University. "How cool is that?" he said, and immediately thought of me. Not because of our shared Christian beliefs or anything like that. Nope, it was because "if 'Bob Jones' can be the name of the university, then WE can be the name of a university!" He knew I would appreciate the idea that in addition to the venerable institutions of Harvard, Yale, Dartmouth, and MIT that there could be a moniker as simple as "Bob Jones." So he bought that plastic mug emblazoned with the BJU logo and sent it to me.
I started student teaching at East Kentwood HS that August. Band camp was the usual affair of learning new names, teaching drill, and seeing alumni return to visit the director. I was new to all of this at that time, of course, but the kids and staff and parents were pretty cool about getting me up to speed. At least two kids asked about my WMU experience. "My sister goes to Western," one trombone player declared. Yeah, kid, so do 25,000 other people... "Maybe you will meet her some day; she'll probably stop by band camp this week." She did.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, I had my trusty Bob Jones mug with me much of the time. Had to stay hydrated, after all, right? I think I was actually pursuing some sort of weight loss/control thing at the time, since it's been a pretty constant pursuit most of my adult life, so I had my water! One of the band moms, Lynn, was at school quite frequently helping out with uniforms. She had a table set up in the doorway of the uniform storage room and would come in to hem, mend, or otherwise take care of things for the kids. I'd walk out and chat with her occasionally, enjoying the break from whatever I was doing.
As it turns out, Lynn was the mom of the afore-mentioned trombone player and his sister; a third child would start band in the elementary school later that year. As it further turns out, the family attended a large local Baptist church. So my Bob Jones mug sort of caught her attention :)
Want the whole sordid tale? There's really not enough room or time. But I will give you some highlights. Dana did come to band camp on Thursday or Friday that week, and we went to lunch with Mark, her band director and my supervising teacher. I thought she was pretty cute; she thought I had brown eyes.
As the months went by I continued building my relationships with students, staff, and parents. Lynn and I held pretty regular conversations, mostly small talk, with good old Bob a constant companion - gotta stay hydrated!!
By the time Christmas was approaching, she knew that I went to Kalamazoo each week for class. She asked me one day if I could do her a favor: she had a package for her daughter that needed to arrive before Dana left for break, so would I mind maybe driving it down there and hand-delivering it on Wednesday? "Absolutely. No problem at all."
Though her total sham of a plan didn't work the way it was intended, I did get to see this wonderful young lady that Wednesday afternoon. We chatted for a while before I had to get to class and she had to return to cleaning her bathroom (the romance started pretty early...), so she took the unopened package with her and we parted company. What was in the package?? A pair of completely unnecessary-to-be-delivered-by-Wednesday mistletoe earrings... The scheme was that Dana would open the package and exclaim, "oh, look, mistletoe!" and we would hold them up and smooch. Riiigggghhht... Nice try, Lynn.
There's more to the rest of the story, most of which deals with brother Greg pestering me to ask her out, which I finally did when she visited school on the day before K-12 break began. I invited her to my upcoming graduation party, we had another date or two over the Christmas holidays, and then we were pretty much seeing each other weekly. The rest, as they say, blah, blah, blah. At some point Dan and Lynn moved to Columbia, TN when Dan took a job at newly-formed Saturn Corp.
**The full disclosure system was still being worked out at that time, and besides, Lynn didn't mention until later that the Bob Jones mug had anything to do with why she thought I would be a good match for her daughter... Suffice it to say I never knew that, and she had no idea that the Lutheran band teacher-to-be would end up a beer-brewing Democratic liberal. Maybe we both would have run the other way, but God apparently had other plans.**
But through it all there was Lynn. Dana's mom/my mother-in-law was always a caring and giving person. I mentioned to Greg during band camp that I liked lemon meringue pie; the next day there was a slice in the band office - leftover dessert from the previous night. Several years later when I was teaching in South Bend, she invited me and a friend to Tennessee for spring break. Brian and I took our bikes and enjoyed the southern weather and Dan and Lynn's southern hospitality. "Be sure to tell me what you two need on your training table - fruits, oatmeal, etc. - and I'll make sure I have it." She also had grits, eggs, and biscuits and gravy :)
Lynn always kept a welcoming home. Every season (every season) had decorations, tablescapes, and food. Thoughtful birthday and Christmas gifts were always given. To this day one of my favorites graces my living room - a beautiful brass sculpture of a sailboat under full sail, with an accompanying cross-stitch that reads, "Oh, God, your sea is so great and my boat is so small..." She knew I enjoyed the water and had spent time sailing with friends in high school.
When grandchildren started to arrive in 1993 she started keeping photographic records of pretty much everything, to the extent that the third bedroom in their house has been given over to scrapbooking. The final tally is some 60 books chronicling the lives of the entire family, from her marriage and early days with Dan, through Benjamin, Greg's youngest son - nine beautiful grandchildren. Each has at least one large memory book filled with pictures of great times with Grandpa (yep - since Lynn took most of the pictures, she appears in very few of them...) and the rest of the family.
When the cancer hit, Lynn was as positive as anyone. This was just another event on the road of life, God was in charge, and she would deal with things as she and Dan always had: with prayer and with each other. Through the chemotherapy and all of the uncomfortable procedures that brings, she remained upbeat and positive; pictures of her in a Rosie the Riveter outfit that she wore to her chemo treatments (proving she could fight with the best of them) even made it onto NBC's "Today" show.By February of this year there was a very large tumor in Lynn's abdomen. Surgery was scheduled and performed, but the news was very sad: there was still plenty of cancer, and Lynn was too weak for further procedures. She elected to head home, call Hospice, and be comfortable.
Dana, her father, and her sister Lori all combined to care for Lynn. Dana flew to Tennessee and spent several days around the surgery, then returned before spring break when things became worse. The care that these three individuals provided was nothing short of heroic; every need was attended, every comfort provided as Lynn approached her last days.
By the time I arrived, Lynn was too weak to stand on her own. I watched misty-eyed as my father-in-law would carefully lift her from her chair and hold her gently as he rotated her frail body to the wheel chair which would transport her to bed, her hands resting on his arms, his eyes on her as he guided her steps. I thought of them as they might have been 50-some years ago: Dan, always much taller than Lynn, gazing down at his pretty girlfriend as they danced at prom. This year would have marked their 49th wedding anniversary. (There is a funny family story about Lynn "running away from home," but as it turned out, she got married first and then moved with Dan to the Army base in Texas where Dana was eventually born...)After Easter Greg, his wife Beth, and their six children, through the amazing outpouring of support from Dan and Lynn's church, were able to make the flight from Spokane, Washington, and we were all together for several days that week. Nathan managed to drive down from MSU for Easter, and Erin did a couple of FaceTime sessions. We were sad that the cousins' paths didn't cross due to timing, but technology is a wonderful thing and we at least got some screen time.
Let's just say that the goodbyes that weekend were awful. It is always difficult for the family to head the 500 miles north after a visit, but this time was obviously different.
"Thanks for inviting me into your family 29 years ago; I hope it was as great for you as it has been for me."
"29 years? That's a long time," came the whispered response. "Take care of Dana and the kids for me."
I will, beautiful lady. I will. Rest in peace.
This was the closing hymn in church last Sunday. We sang it just after Dana received word that Lynn was very weak. Needless to say it came at a perfect time, though neither of us were able to finish all the verses...
Sunday, January 18, 2015
New Year's Thoughts
Well, it's mid-January, so the new year isn't quite so new, the holidays are long past, decorations stored, kids back at college, and we're pretty much settling in for the wait until spring. There were lots of things on my mind as the calendar changed, though, so I thought I'd share them with you.
I noticed around November that the usual spate of "hey, the new year is approaching and you need to get in shape" ads seemed to start really early this time around. Usually they don't really start hitting the airwaves until almost Christmas, because let's face it: admitting that you want to change yourself and get in shape and such is a bad idea before Christmas, and it wouldn't surprise me if there was some food advertising lobby that said to the fitness advertising lobby, "hey, back off, let 'em get fat. You can have them after Christmas." After all, the two sides can't peacefully co-exist, really, can they?
But this year it seemed like Weight Watchers, Nordic Trac, and all the other health ads were in full swing by Thanksgiving. Please realize that I'm not a huge fan of the new year's resolution (that feels like it should be capitalized, doesn't it??), because it's too easy to blow it early and then figure you've messed up the entire year. And I remember being at Weight Watchers meetings in January and hating them - really big crowds of people! Sometimes it was like I was thinking, "hey, new people should have their own time; this is for the folks who have been here. Most of you will quit in a month, anyway!" And sadly that was true: I did think along those lines, and they did quit in a month. So why shouldn't those ads be going as early as they were? Maybe people should start on November 17 because it's November 17.
This idea even came up at the Christmas Eve service at our church this year! Apparently overheard in a supermarket checkout line was a statement (hopefully not from someone from my church!) along the lines of "oh, it's Christmas Eve. All the visitors will be at church tonight, and I can't stand that." REALLY??? As disciples of Christ, committed to the idea of spreading the gospel to all corners of the Earth, you don't want visitors in church celebrating Christ's birth??? Wow. Who would say that?
My friend Jessica has some thoughts on this subject, and since A) she had already written her blog, and B) it's better than the one you're currently reading, I figured C) why reinvent the wheel? So I give you, dear readers, a post from "Run, Brinksy, Run," the musings of friend and former colleague Jessica Brinks. The following words belong to her, and she has graciously allowed me to re-post them here:
Thanks, Jessica! Meanwhile, I am off to the doc tomorrow for the annual physical. Look to this space in the near future for the results! Have a great week!
I noticed around November that the usual spate of "hey, the new year is approaching and you need to get in shape" ads seemed to start really early this time around. Usually they don't really start hitting the airwaves until almost Christmas, because let's face it: admitting that you want to change yourself and get in shape and such is a bad idea before Christmas, and it wouldn't surprise me if there was some food advertising lobby that said to the fitness advertising lobby, "hey, back off, let 'em get fat. You can have them after Christmas." After all, the two sides can't peacefully co-exist, really, can they?
But this year it seemed like Weight Watchers, Nordic Trac, and all the other health ads were in full swing by Thanksgiving. Please realize that I'm not a huge fan of the new year's resolution (that feels like it should be capitalized, doesn't it??), because it's too easy to blow it early and then figure you've messed up the entire year. And I remember being at Weight Watchers meetings in January and hating them - really big crowds of people! Sometimes it was like I was thinking, "hey, new people should have their own time; this is for the folks who have been here. Most of you will quit in a month, anyway!" And sadly that was true: I did think along those lines, and they did quit in a month. So why shouldn't those ads be going as early as they were? Maybe people should start on November 17 because it's November 17.
This idea even came up at the Christmas Eve service at our church this year! Apparently overheard in a supermarket checkout line was a statement (hopefully not from someone from my church!) along the lines of "oh, it's Christmas Eve. All the visitors will be at church tonight, and I can't stand that." REALLY??? As disciples of Christ, committed to the idea of spreading the gospel to all corners of the Earth, you don't want visitors in church celebrating Christ's birth??? Wow. Who would say that?
My friend Jessica has some thoughts on this subject, and since A) she had already written her blog, and B) it's better than the one you're currently reading, I figured C) why reinvent the wheel? So I give you, dear readers, a post from "Run, Brinksy, Run," the musings of friend and former colleague Jessica Brinks. The following words belong to her, and she has graciously allowed me to re-post them here:
|
So you've probably seen this meme floating around on the internet the past few days...
I will admit that I love a good meme and so I chuckled the first time I saw it. And then I saw it again... And again... And then a few more times. And now it's my turn to call bullshit. Because since when have we decided that ridiculing people for trying to better themselves is a good idea? |  |
People
like to complain that all the "resolutioners" come in and crowd the
gyms, complaining about the inconvenience all the extra people are and
praying for the day that they all quit so that they can "have the gym
back to themselves."
Ouch. I hope I'm never one of those people who sets a goal for themselves and has people actively wishing for the day I give up on my goals.
I will admit, yes, that overcrowding in the gym is obnoxious. And I've been there, frustrated by the masses of people and irritated by the lack of available weights or treadmills. I've had the thought cross my mind that if I just wait it out, things will get better. This year though, I'm going to look at it differently.
These people are there because they want to be better. And who am I to knock them down from trying to achieve their goals? I believe it was the great Rocky Balboa who once said...
Ouch. I hope I'm never one of those people who sets a goal for themselves and has people actively wishing for the day I give up on my goals.
I will admit, yes, that overcrowding in the gym is obnoxious. And I've been there, frustrated by the masses of people and irritated by the lack of available weights or treadmills. I've had the thought cross my mind that if I just wait it out, things will get better. This year though, I'm going to look at it differently.
These people are there because they want to be better. And who am I to knock them down from trying to achieve their goals? I believe it was the great Rocky Balboa who once said...
Every champion was once a contender who refused to give up.
There
isn't a single one of us who dropped out of the womb and ran a
marathon. Who was able to bench press the bodyweight of a human
immediately upon birth. Who was delivered by a stork, wearing a pair of
running shoes and saying "Let's do this!" We all had to start at the
beginning once. For some of us, it wasn't even that long ago. I may
have been "athletic" my whole life, but I never started running (on a
semi-serious basis) until a few years ago. I remember all too well the
struggle of trying to make it half a mile without dying. Of thinking
that a 5k was an impossible distance. So to those who are willing to
take on this adventure of becoming a more fit, healthier, happier human
being? I applaud you.
Too many people complain about busy gyms in one sentence and then turn around and in the next wax poetic on the sad state of affairs of the health of our nation. Of climbing obesity rates and unhealthy habits. And yet, when we as a country resolve to do better, we get ridiculed and mocked for our public declarations.
Too many people complain about busy gyms in one sentence and then turn around and in the next wax poetic on the sad state of affairs of the health of our nation. Of climbing obesity rates and unhealthy habits. And yet, when we as a country resolve to do better, we get ridiculed and mocked for our public declarations.
For those who cry out that there's no need to wait until a specific date to start your new resolutions?
Ok, you're right. You don't have to wait. But what's wrong with wanting to start with a "clean slate?" What's wrong with picking a starting point and planning to move forward from there?
Veyr few things in life happen without planning and forethought and picking a date, however arbitrary, helps people prepare not only physically, but mentally as well. You find me a road race that says "Just start somewhere on this street and finish whenever..." and I'll show you the worst organized event in the history of running. EVERY JOURNEY MUST HAVE A BEGINING. And who am I to judge what day that begining should occur on.
Ok, you're right. You don't have to wait. But what's wrong with wanting to start with a "clean slate?" What's wrong with picking a starting point and planning to move forward from there?
Veyr few things in life happen without planning and forethought and picking a date, however arbitrary, helps people prepare not only physically, but mentally as well. You find me a road race that says "Just start somewhere on this street and finish whenever..." and I'll show you the worst organized event in the history of running. EVERY JOURNEY MUST HAVE A BEGINING. And who am I to judge what day that begining should occur on.
 |
This year, I will make my own resolutions. Some of them will be the same as last year, because, for a variety of reasons (READ: excuses, but that's just me judging me)
I did not make all of my goals for 2014. But that's the great thing
about resolutions. No one says they have to change. There is nothing
wrong with starting over, setting your sights on a goal, and working to
achieve it.
I hope all of you "resolutioners" out there are successful in 2015. Take this opportunity to prove all the haters wrong and that setting goals and doing what you need to do to achieve those goals is admirable. And may we all be supportive of each other in our journeys this year. There's enough Negative Nancy's out there. We got this. |
Thanks, Jessica! Meanwhile, I am off to the doc tomorrow for the annual physical. Look to this space in the near future for the results! Have a great week!
Sunday, January 4, 2015
It's Really Been TWO YEARS??
Wow. Two years. The idea
that I began a journey to a healthier self began two years ago is
somewhat mind-boggling... And what a journey it's been: ups, downs, a
couple of sideways, and numbers that keep making me basically happy with
the way things are going. (The month of December has been a little
rough because I kinda sorta haven't been very disciplined and have found
a few pounds that previously left me, but I'll be OK.)
Thinking back to December of 2012 - I was 35 pounds heavier, my blood pressure was under medicated control, and my other health numbers looked like they belonged to someone unhealthy, unfit, and headed for disaster of some sort. Which was all true. How does a guy my height manage to get up to 226 pounds?
And while the numbers are all considerably better, I am not yet satisfied or done with the process. There are still too many things body-wise that need to be made healthier even though they are much better. There are too many physical condition things that, though greatly improved, can improve further.
I was on the MTB trail with a student a couple months ago; we were riding down one path while his parents were on another. At one point, since he knew he was kicking my fat@$$, he asked if he should slow down. I said I was hanging in there, and that it gave me something to work for. I kind of like chasing other people down. It gives me a goal. Our discussion followed up in a few minutes with the idea that I always like to have people ahead of me so I don't get complacent. There are lots of people in my life like that, whether they be colleagues at school, other riders, other folks on their health quest, and even my wife, who has lost 45 pounds in the last 14 months. All of them keep me moving toward something better that I can attain. Call it inspiration if you want to, I guess. But seeing someone ahead of me makes me give chase sometimes.
Let's do the "bad news first, then the good news" thing now. The month of December, dear friends, saw a return to too many old habits, and the ease with which I slunk into them kind of scared me. I managed to find about six pounds, which were added to about three others that crept back in over November.
Why and how did this happen? Oh, lots of reasons... That whole holiday celebration thing for one. And the whole flippin' month is a holiday, really, isn't it? A couple road trips to places where I ate out, plenty of alcohol over the last six weeks (those are not "good" calories...), and several meals out here in town with friends and former students. I tried to keep it at least vegetarian, but will admit to a few meals that included meat. Not that lean, happy chicken stuff, either. Nope. I did keep it to only one giant disgusting burger, but there were a couple breakfast outings with folks that set me back.
But I will not be discouraged except with my behavior. It's very easy to see where things went wrong, so it will be easy to set them right as well.
This time the elevation in the scale numbers was noticeable. Usually I can say I'm still feeling great, and a couple pounds here and there are no big deal. Oddly enough, though, there was a morning bike ride with a friend right before Christmas in which I ended up doing only one lap at a fairly easy trail. "Sorry, man, I'm just not feeling it right now." He went on to do a second lap, and my poorly-fueled body went home. It's all about the fuel, people. Treat your body well and it will pay you back. Same goes for treating it badly!
OK, lets get to the good news half of this! Can't be all feeling sorry for myself all the time, right? Have to point out how great things are going, too. And there have been a few:
I went back to TB's Gym a couple weeks ago. It had been at least six months, because I certainly hadn't gone since my crash, but I'm pretty sure I hadn't gone at all in 2014 until mid-December! I used to be quite diligent about going three days per week with the guys, but the last couple years have seen a decline in my desire for strength training as well as a required Monday after-school meeting from 3-4 p.m. And since Fridays are quite busy in the fall, it has been easy to do the "yeah, it's too hard for me to get there at the right day and time" stuff. Which is a total cop-out. Well, maybe not total, but pretty close.
So I decided to experiment with lifting again. I wasn't sure about how my shoulder would feel, and of course I took it easy since I hadn't been out in a while. So far, so good is what I can say at this point. I have been easing back in to things, and have only found a couple of exercises that my broken area absolutely will not tolerate. As I've said before, there's a group of people that lift together, and it always helps the motivation level to work out with someone else.
I also managed, in spite of missing most of June and July on the road, to exceed my 2013 bike mileage. The 2015 tally came in at 2266 miles, ridden on the road, trail, beach, snow, etc. on four different bikes. And due to my inability to just accept something for what it is and think it's all good, I have been thinking about how many more miles I'd have had if I hadn't wrecked my two highest mileage months - I usually get about 400-500 miles in each of them, so there's a thousand miles I missed! Ah, well, water under the bridge, I believe is how the saying goes.
I received my 24-Hour Challenge entry on New Year's Eve. Not going to miss that event this year (unless it's for completely awful weather...), and started on the indoor trainer yesterday to begin my preparations. Coach Troy and Spinervals returns for another winter!! There will also be plenty of fat bike riding, I hope, because that gets me some fresh air and uses some different riding muscles.
Let's see, what else was good? I entered and completed my first official race with Iceman 2014, but you knew that because you read about it. I turned 50 but have no idea if I am supposed to feel older or younger or whatever than I actually feel right now. I managed two rides with the Hot group on the Tuesday night shop ride. That sort of thing. Overall I'd give 2014 a pretty good rating.
The future at this point? I have another physical coming up in a few weeks, so we will see how the numbers compare to last year. I'll be detoxing again soon. I'm planning on a spring MTB race, the Barry Roubaix, which has historically been on a weekend I always have a school thing; this year I don't, so I will probably enter.
All in all things are good. I don't have any resolutions for the new year because I really don't believe in them. My goal is to get back on track right now and continue down the road to good health. Here's to another great year!
Thinking back to December of 2012 - I was 35 pounds heavier, my blood pressure was under medicated control, and my other health numbers looked like they belonged to someone unhealthy, unfit, and headed for disaster of some sort. Which was all true. How does a guy my height manage to get up to 226 pounds?
And while the numbers are all considerably better, I am not yet satisfied or done with the process. There are still too many things body-wise that need to be made healthier even though they are much better. There are too many physical condition things that, though greatly improved, can improve further.
I was on the MTB trail with a student a couple months ago; we were riding down one path while his parents were on another. At one point, since he knew he was kicking my fat@$$, he asked if he should slow down. I said I was hanging in there, and that it gave me something to work for. I kind of like chasing other people down. It gives me a goal. Our discussion followed up in a few minutes with the idea that I always like to have people ahead of me so I don't get complacent. There are lots of people in my life like that, whether they be colleagues at school, other riders, other folks on their health quest, and even my wife, who has lost 45 pounds in the last 14 months. All of them keep me moving toward something better that I can attain. Call it inspiration if you want to, I guess. But seeing someone ahead of me makes me give chase sometimes.
Let's do the "bad news first, then the good news" thing now. The month of December, dear friends, saw a return to too many old habits, and the ease with which I slunk into them kind of scared me. I managed to find about six pounds, which were added to about three others that crept back in over November.
Why and how did this happen? Oh, lots of reasons... That whole holiday celebration thing for one. And the whole flippin' month is a holiday, really, isn't it? A couple road trips to places where I ate out, plenty of alcohol over the last six weeks (those are not "good" calories...), and several meals out here in town with friends and former students. I tried to keep it at least vegetarian, but will admit to a few meals that included meat. Not that lean, happy chicken stuff, either. Nope. I did keep it to only one giant disgusting burger, but there were a couple breakfast outings with folks that set me back.
But I will not be discouraged except with my behavior. It's very easy to see where things went wrong, so it will be easy to set them right as well.
This time the elevation in the scale numbers was noticeable. Usually I can say I'm still feeling great, and a couple pounds here and there are no big deal. Oddly enough, though, there was a morning bike ride with a friend right before Christmas in which I ended up doing only one lap at a fairly easy trail. "Sorry, man, I'm just not feeling it right now." He went on to do a second lap, and my poorly-fueled body went home. It's all about the fuel, people. Treat your body well and it will pay you back. Same goes for treating it badly!
OK, lets get to the good news half of this! Can't be all feeling sorry for myself all the time, right? Have to point out how great things are going, too. And there have been a few:
I went back to TB's Gym a couple weeks ago. It had been at least six months, because I certainly hadn't gone since my crash, but I'm pretty sure I hadn't gone at all in 2014 until mid-December! I used to be quite diligent about going three days per week with the guys, but the last couple years have seen a decline in my desire for strength training as well as a required Monday after-school meeting from 3-4 p.m. And since Fridays are quite busy in the fall, it has been easy to do the "yeah, it's too hard for me to get there at the right day and time" stuff. Which is a total cop-out. Well, maybe not total, but pretty close.
So I decided to experiment with lifting again. I wasn't sure about how my shoulder would feel, and of course I took it easy since I hadn't been out in a while. So far, so good is what I can say at this point. I have been easing back in to things, and have only found a couple of exercises that my broken area absolutely will not tolerate. As I've said before, there's a group of people that lift together, and it always helps the motivation level to work out with someone else.
I also managed, in spite of missing most of June and July on the road, to exceed my 2013 bike mileage. The 2015 tally came in at 2266 miles, ridden on the road, trail, beach, snow, etc. on four different bikes. And due to my inability to just accept something for what it is and think it's all good, I have been thinking about how many more miles I'd have had if I hadn't wrecked my two highest mileage months - I usually get about 400-500 miles in each of them, so there's a thousand miles I missed! Ah, well, water under the bridge, I believe is how the saying goes.
I received my 24-Hour Challenge entry on New Year's Eve. Not going to miss that event this year (unless it's for completely awful weather...), and started on the indoor trainer yesterday to begin my preparations. Coach Troy and Spinervals returns for another winter!! There will also be plenty of fat bike riding, I hope, because that gets me some fresh air and uses some different riding muscles.
Let's see, what else was good? I entered and completed my first official race with Iceman 2014, but you knew that because you read about it. I turned 50 but have no idea if I am supposed to feel older or younger or whatever than I actually feel right now. I managed two rides with the Hot group on the Tuesday night shop ride. That sort of thing. Overall I'd give 2014 a pretty good rating.
The future at this point? I have another physical coming up in a few weeks, so we will see how the numbers compare to last year. I'll be detoxing again soon. I'm planning on a spring MTB race, the Barry Roubaix, which has historically been on a weekend I always have a school thing; this year I don't, so I will probably enter.
All in all things are good. I don't have any resolutions for the new year because I really don't believe in them. My goal is to get back on track right now and continue down the road to good health. Here's to another great year!
Tuesday, December 23, 2014
The Best Dog Ever
Today we said goodbye to a longtime member of our family; Fergus was nearly 14 years old. I do not exaggerate when I say he was a family member, as Nathan and Erin literally grew up with him. They were about 7 and 5 when he came to live with us in the spring of 2001, and Nathan recently turned 21. Though this post may seem a departure from my usual health and fitness stuff, A) I don't really care, and B) there are plenty of studies showing the health benefits of having a pet.
Fergus was one of ten puppies from the mating of sire Duncan's Duck Darling (Duncan) and Belle. Registered with the AKC as "Belle's Irishman Fergus," we brought him home right around Tulip Time.
He was born on St. Patrick's Day, so the "requirement" was an Irish name. We struggled and argued over the name for the week before we brought him home, even consulting our still-owned baby name book (which was used for the last time in this case...) before we came up with a name we could all agree on. "Fergus" was a fitting name for the roly-poly black Labrador puppy, and the fun and excitement of raising a dog began in earnest. Potty training, obedience, etc. were duties shared among the four of us, and he learned pretty quickly.
We were always pretty sure we knew where Fergus saw himself in the pack that was our family. I was clearly the Alpha male,
with Dana a close second in the hierarchy. He seemed to struggle with where he and Nathan fit in exactly, but Erin was always his best buddy and we were certain he thought himself a notch above her. Until one day when she was in maybe eighth grade and she used the voice that we are all blessed with when she wanted him out of the kitchen. I swear his face fell a mile when he realized he was at the bottom... But he was a happy dog and content to be wherever the family was at all times.
We told ourselves we wouldn't let him on the furniture. OK, but not the bed. OK, at least not.... Oh, never mind. We did stick to crate training and keeping him from virtually all "people food," and
he always got glowing reports from Dr. Heitman regarding his health and weight.
Sometimes you read stories about heroic dogs, or ones who know instinctively to bark to warn against strangers. Not Fergus. He'd have let anyone in the house, and he was quite simply a happy-go-lucky, dorky dog with maybe two exceptions. Anyone who has known us or Fergus for any length of time already knows these, and my kids are rolling their eyes right now, because apparently I tell some stories more than once...
The first of these came early in his life, and was absolutely adorable. Erin was maybe six years old, and she wanted to take the dog for a walk all by herself. We usually didn't just let her wander off by herself, thank you very much, so we didn't really know what to think. But hey, what's one time around our pretty short block, right? What could happen? (I'll tell you what could happen: she could be dragged along the sidewalk helplessly clinging to the
leash while Fergus ran amok...) "OK, just let me get him to the sidewalk for you," because he was still pretty rambunctious when it came to walking. We could definitely avoid her getting pulled down the stairs if nothing else, right?
Fergus was his usual crazy self when I got the leash. He always loved going for walks, even from a very young age. My misgivings were not eased at all as he ran out the front door and practically dove down the steps. I got him to sit and relax for a minute (barely) so I could make sure Erin knew what to do. Still not knowing what the end result would be, I gave her the leash and she said, "come on, Fergus, let's go for a walk."
And he did. Simply got up from his seated position and toddled right alongside the small six-year-old girl, happily walking by her side all the way down the block as though he did this all the time. We watched in amazement as they made it to the end of the block and turned the corner. After a few minutes Nathan and I thought it would be a good idea to head the other way around just to see how it was going. It was still going great! Until Fergus saw us... They were maybe a half-block away when he bolted to greet us, easily yanking the leash out of Erin's hands. She was so mad! At me... Thus began their lifelong friendship, with Erin frequently tweeting about "The Fergs" and his antics over the last couple years.
The other time involved beer brewing and a total stranger... I had just acquired my giant new brewing system, shipped all the way from California, and was trying a new batch. Fergus was probably around five or so.
Since I still didn't have the process mastered with the new system, Erin was on hand to assist as needed (I know, brewing beer with my 10-year-old daughter...). Getting the grain into the highest kettle was going to be a two-handed process. She held the bag of grain while I scooped it into the hot water.
We were in that position, me on a step stool, her holding a 20 pound sack of barley, when we saw a small child walking slowly up the driveway toward the back yard. Both of us stopped to watch - we'd never seen this kid before. The strangest thing happened: Fergus, usually ecstatic to see virtually anyone and eager to plaster them with sloppy kisses, saw the kid, too. And he sat down. Right in the grass, perfectly still. We all watched as the young boy jumped the fence, Fergus still sitting quietly.
The brewing was forgotten as we stared dumbfounded as this maybe six-year-old kid walked right in the back door as if he never saw us! Fergus was still watching. Erin and I did the classic double take back and forth, completely unsure of how to proceed, when we saw a very distressed-looking teenage boy walking down the sidewalk in front of our house. Putting two and two together we said something to him; relief flooded the poor kid's face and he hustled to the gate.
Dana, meanwhile, was in the house reading the paper. Being a basically chill person most of the time, she didn't think it terribly odd that a small child had just wandered into the house, but she was definitely intrigued! I sent the teenager into the house after the boy, who had, as I recall, made his way upstairs.
As it turns out, Vincent was autistic and our house was on his list of favorite things somehow. The teen boy was a new babysitter, and hadn't been paying close attention for a couple minutes, and Vincent wandered off. Vincent's mom showed up, flagged down by me as she slowly drove down the street (had to be related to the situation, I figured...). She apologized profusely, and made Vincent apologize, too, for being rude and walking into the house. (For the record, none of us were bothered by the idea; the little guy just wanted to see our house! "No apology necessary," I think I said to his mom.)
How did Fergus know? What special dog sense did he possess to not even approach this little boy? He loved kids. OK, he loved everybody. But he somehow knew that this boy was different. He kept his distance, didn't jump, didn't lick, didn't do anything he usually did. Just sat and watched.
We've been asked if we are getting another dog, and the answer for a while will be "no." Why? Well, there will be the convenience factor of not having to get a dog-sitter any time we leave for the weekend and that sort of thing. But honestly? We had the perfect dog for almost 14 years. We can't possibly do any better, and probably can't do that well with any other dog.
We'll miss you, old friend. Tomorrow morning's wake-up routine will be different. We will miss the happy, laughing face greeting us at the top of the back steps when we come home. We'll miss your weird ability to tell time - how on Earth could you tell when it was 6:00 p.m. and time for dinner? (He could do noon lunch, too...) The morning snuggles, evening snuggles, and all of the snuggles in between as you plopped yourself into our laps on the couch.
So goodbye, faithful one. We will remember you forever.
Fergus was one of ten puppies from the mating of sire Duncan's Duck Darling (Duncan) and Belle. Registered with the AKC as "Belle's Irishman Fergus," we brought him home right around Tulip Time.
He was born on St. Patrick's Day, so the "requirement" was an Irish name. We struggled and argued over the name for the week before we brought him home, even consulting our still-owned baby name book (which was used for the last time in this case...) before we came up with a name we could all agree on. "Fergus" was a fitting name for the roly-poly black Labrador puppy, and the fun and excitement of raising a dog began in earnest. Potty training, obedience, etc. were duties shared among the four of us, and he learned pretty quickly.
We were always pretty sure we knew where Fergus saw himself in the pack that was our family. I was clearly the Alpha male,
We told ourselves we wouldn't let him on the furniture. OK, but not the bed. OK, at least not.... Oh, never mind. We did stick to crate training and keeping him from virtually all "people food," and
Sometimes you read stories about heroic dogs, or ones who know instinctively to bark to warn against strangers. Not Fergus. He'd have let anyone in the house, and he was quite simply a happy-go-lucky, dorky dog with maybe two exceptions. Anyone who has known us or Fergus for any length of time already knows these, and my kids are rolling their eyes right now, because apparently I tell some stories more than once...
The first of these came early in his life, and was absolutely adorable. Erin was maybe six years old, and she wanted to take the dog for a walk all by herself. We usually didn't just let her wander off by herself, thank you very much, so we didn't really know what to think. But hey, what's one time around our pretty short block, right? What could happen? (I'll tell you what could happen: she could be dragged along the sidewalk helplessly clinging to the
Fergus was his usual crazy self when I got the leash. He always loved going for walks, even from a very young age. My misgivings were not eased at all as he ran out the front door and practically dove down the steps. I got him to sit and relax for a minute (barely) so I could make sure Erin knew what to do. Still not knowing what the end result would be, I gave her the leash and she said, "come on, Fergus, let's go for a walk."
And he did. Simply got up from his seated position and toddled right alongside the small six-year-old girl, happily walking by her side all the way down the block as though he did this all the time. We watched in amazement as they made it to the end of the block and turned the corner. After a few minutes Nathan and I thought it would be a good idea to head the other way around just to see how it was going. It was still going great! Until Fergus saw us... They were maybe a half-block away when he bolted to greet us, easily yanking the leash out of Erin's hands. She was so mad! At me... Thus began their lifelong friendship, with Erin frequently tweeting about "The Fergs" and his antics over the last couple years.
The other time involved beer brewing and a total stranger... I had just acquired my giant new brewing system, shipped all the way from California, and was trying a new batch. Fergus was probably around five or so.
Since I still didn't have the process mastered with the new system, Erin was on hand to assist as needed (I know, brewing beer with my 10-year-old daughter...). Getting the grain into the highest kettle was going to be a two-handed process. She held the bag of grain while I scooped it into the hot water.
We were in that position, me on a step stool, her holding a 20 pound sack of barley, when we saw a small child walking slowly up the driveway toward the back yard. Both of us stopped to watch - we'd never seen this kid before. The strangest thing happened: Fergus, usually ecstatic to see virtually anyone and eager to plaster them with sloppy kisses, saw the kid, too. And he sat down. Right in the grass, perfectly still. We all watched as the young boy jumped the fence, Fergus still sitting quietly.
The brewing was forgotten as we stared dumbfounded as this maybe six-year-old kid walked right in the back door as if he never saw us! Fergus was still watching. Erin and I did the classic double take back and forth, completely unsure of how to proceed, when we saw a very distressed-looking teenage boy walking down the sidewalk in front of our house. Putting two and two together we said something to him; relief flooded the poor kid's face and he hustled to the gate.
Dana, meanwhile, was in the house reading the paper. Being a basically chill person most of the time, she didn't think it terribly odd that a small child had just wandered into the house, but she was definitely intrigued! I sent the teenager into the house after the boy, who had, as I recall, made his way upstairs.
As it turns out, Vincent was autistic and our house was on his list of favorite things somehow. The teen boy was a new babysitter, and hadn't been paying close attention for a couple minutes, and Vincent wandered off. Vincent's mom showed up, flagged down by me as she slowly drove down the street (had to be related to the situation, I figured...). She apologized profusely, and made Vincent apologize, too, for being rude and walking into the house. (For the record, none of us were bothered by the idea; the little guy just wanted to see our house! "No apology necessary," I think I said to his mom.)
How did Fergus know? What special dog sense did he possess to not even approach this little boy? He loved kids. OK, he loved everybody. But he somehow knew that this boy was different. He kept his distance, didn't jump, didn't lick, didn't do anything he usually did. Just sat and watched.
We've been asked if we are getting another dog, and the answer for a while will be "no." Why? Well, there will be the convenience factor of not having to get a dog-sitter any time we leave for the weekend and that sort of thing. But honestly? We had the perfect dog for almost 14 years. We can't possibly do any better, and probably can't do that well with any other dog.
So goodbye, faithful one. We will remember you forever.
Thursday, December 18, 2014
What Did YOU do for YourSELF this Weekend?
This post goes out mostly to my colleagues on the Facebook band directors' group, affectionately known as "The BDG." I think it may be relevant to all of my teacher colleagues, and even mere mortals may find its content beneficial, so you're all welcome to read it. I am hoping that on the BDG, at least, it will cause some (hopefully healthy and constructive) discussion.
Last month I rode in a mountain bike race. For those who don't know me, this was no big deal - I'm no superstar; more of a "hey, that sounds like fun, and they let anyone do it" kind of weekend warrior on the bike. If you're interested, you can read that post here. There's something about being on the bike for nearly four hours that can either clear my mind and make me forget about a lot of things, or let my mind wander in order to get through the ride. Kind of along the lines of taking my mind off the pain and suffering, you know?
One of the things I got to thinking about as I had a remarkably enjoyable weekend was the fact that I was away from school. And on Friday night I wasn't just away from school, I was away from a football game. Yep, the team went deep into the playoffs again this season (the following week we won the quarter-final game, with the band marching in boots and hats surrounded by eight inches of snow on a freshly-shoveled field), and we had a home game and the band wasn't there.
*This wasn't because I was heading to a bike race; it was due to the fall theater production of "A Tale of Two Cities" happening in the auditorium. Playoffs and the fall play frequently run into each other; this year the director asked if we would skip the band playing on Friday so he wouldn't have to deal with all of the extra hassle, and I agreed. So no commentary on my slacker attitude and not supporting the team, please. But indeed I was NOT at school, not reading email, not watching playing tests, or anything to do with my job. AND I FELT GREAT.
During the race, as usually happens when I ride, snatches of band music would play through the jukebox in my head. We're working on Overture to Candide with the Wind Ensemble, so that was there, but more apropos to the MTB riding were phrases from Hazo's Ride, which we did last spring with the Symphonic Band. I say this because I'm proud of my kids and proud of the program, and yes, I can even say that I am proud of my teaching. I do some pretty good stuff with and for students, from band to mountain bike club to having several kids in on a day off to learn how to re-wrap keyboard mallets. It is also, as you might have figured out, to show the level of playing we do, which may come into play as you continue to read.
For some reason I also started thinking about several posts I've read on the BDG (hey, I was on the bike for almost four hours...). And the thrust of those thoughts went along the lines of what I personally do to make sure I can still do this job after three decades.
I offer these thoughts as something that works for me. I'm writing this to the folks who wonder what they can do because they find themselves at school for 12-14 hours a day every week and are counting the days until they check out. So here's what I do.
Posted on a board in my office is an ancient copy of an article from The Instrumentalist magazine entitled "Director Puts Band in Proper Perspective." It's from a veteran teacher who finally decided that he'd had enough. Enough of the after-school sectionals, enough of the all-day Saturday rehearsals, enough of private lessons, etc. Midway through the article he says, "and you know what? My bands got better." And he goes on to detail the more relaxed atmosphere and his and his students' happiness.
One evening when my son was about three years old I came up the stairs from the laundry room wearing my jazz band shirt. Nathan loved everything I did with the bands; once I even brought him up on stage so the jazz band could play "Happy Birthday." He's a bass performance/elementary music ed major at MSU now, so apparently he wasn't too traumatized by my job. But I remember on this particular occasion seeing his face fall in disappointment as he realized that if I was wearing that shirt it meant I was leaving again. Who knows the reason for him not being excited about band on that one night? But it really hit me.
Occasionally I will read posts or replies on the BDG site that talk about the constant 16-hour days (not really exaggerating here) that some directors spend at school. Sometimes it is the younger teachers, perhaps just married or with a new baby at home, wondering how they can change things or avoid burnout. Recently there were a few posts about "I'm so sick I can't go to school, but I don't feel that I can take a sick day." I can tell you honestly that I have never, in 28 years of teaching, spent 16 hours at school unless it was during the high school musical season or connected to a football game, etc. In other words, because the band was performing or I was otherwise required to be there. So probably a dozen times per year, give or take.
As a point of reference, I run a 200+ member program with five performing ensembles that meet from zero through 5th hours. During the first semester my large marching band class counts as two classes in one, and splits into two separate hours second semester. Virtually all of those students march; we had 197 on the field this year. We perform for two separate high school football programs, covering virtually all Friday games for the regular season (full band or pep band), and usually all the home playoff games as well. The band does not travel to any away games except for state finals (three times in ten years).
Are you spending more than 12 hours at your building every day? I would honestly appreciate a look at what you're doing. No disrespect intended here; I am wondering what fills that much time. How much time do you spend on your off hours doing school stuff? This can include score study, sectionals, playing test evals, etc. Anything "off the clock" that is officially not part of your salary.
Well, I hope to get some constructive commentary going regarding these thoughts. As I finish this post I am sitting in the living room with my wife and kids (who are home from college), having just completed a 12-hour day! Today was the second audition day for the HS musical, so we spent some serious time as a staff putting together the cast. Irony? Maybe, but I get paid for my role with the theater, so maybe not.
So... What DID you do last weekend? I hope it was fulfilling and meaningful and didn't have to involve your job!
Last month I rode in a mountain bike race. For those who don't know me, this was no big deal - I'm no superstar; more of a "hey, that sounds like fun, and they let anyone do it" kind of weekend warrior on the bike. If you're interested, you can read that post here. There's something about being on the bike for nearly four hours that can either clear my mind and make me forget about a lot of things, or let my mind wander in order to get through the ride. Kind of along the lines of taking my mind off the pain and suffering, you know?
One of the things I got to thinking about as I had a remarkably enjoyable weekend was the fact that I was away from school. And on Friday night I wasn't just away from school, I was away from a football game. Yep, the team went deep into the playoffs again this season (the following week we won the quarter-final game, with the band marching in boots and hats surrounded by eight inches of snow on a freshly-shoveled field), and we had a home game and the band wasn't there.
*This wasn't because I was heading to a bike race; it was due to the fall theater production of "A Tale of Two Cities" happening in the auditorium. Playoffs and the fall play frequently run into each other; this year the director asked if we would skip the band playing on Friday so he wouldn't have to deal with all of the extra hassle, and I agreed. So no commentary on my slacker attitude and not supporting the team, please. But indeed I was NOT at school, not reading email, not watching playing tests, or anything to do with my job. AND I FELT GREAT.
During the race, as usually happens when I ride, snatches of band music would play through the jukebox in my head. We're working on Overture to Candide with the Wind Ensemble, so that was there, but more apropos to the MTB riding were phrases from Hazo's Ride, which we did last spring with the Symphonic Band. I say this because I'm proud of my kids and proud of the program, and yes, I can even say that I am proud of my teaching. I do some pretty good stuff with and for students, from band to mountain bike club to having several kids in on a day off to learn how to re-wrap keyboard mallets. It is also, as you might have figured out, to show the level of playing we do, which may come into play as you continue to read.
For some reason I also started thinking about several posts I've read on the BDG (hey, I was on the bike for almost four hours...). And the thrust of those thoughts went along the lines of what I personally do to make sure I can still do this job after three decades.
I offer these thoughts as something that works for me. I'm writing this to the folks who wonder what they can do because they find themselves at school for 12-14 hours a day every week and are counting the days until they check out. So here's what I do.
- I don't answer email on the weekends. As a matter of fact I tell my parents and students that I don't read email after I get home at night, whether that be at 2:15 (I have a zero hour at 6:30) or 8:15 p.m. TURN OFF SCHOOL at some point during your day. When I started teaching we didn't even have email. Hell, I didn't have a computer until my second year in 1988 (aaahhh, the Apple IIe with the famed dual disc drive... the memories...). We used to get messages from people on those little pink "while you were out" pages from the school secretary. We weren't sitting at school at 8 p.m. waiting for the phone to ring, so why should we constantly check email? It can wait.
- Same goes for voicemail, though this one is slightly different. About 15 years ago I returned to my office on Friday for a game. The message light was blinking on my phone, so I checked it. "Hey, Keith, Mike here. Say, there's a parent concern we need to talk about on Monday, so plan to be in my office by 3:30, please." From the assistant superintendent. After school on Friday. WHY WOULD YOU LEAVE THIS MESSAGE WHEN YOU KNOW I CAN'T REACH YOU TO TALK ABOUT IT?? So from that day forward I don't wreck my weekend with voicemail, either. It can wait. (Yes, sometimes even on game nights - if a kid is calling in sick, the message will still be there on Monday. Same idea as the pink phone slips that I'd get on Monday morning when the school secretary came in and got the weekend messages off the answering machine.)
- Sometimes I walk away from it all. There are days when it's just time to leave. And if that day happens to be a nice one, I will frequently leave at my contractual time and go ride my bike somewhere. Yep, contract time. For me this year that's 1:55 p.m. If I hurry I can be on the bike by 2:30.
- Some weekends I'll spend some hours on my deck brewing a batch of beer or two. Over the years I've spent far too much money on that particular hobby...
- I would love to practice my trumpet more, but that usually doesn't happen. I've been doing it quite a bit lately because I played in a musical a few weeks ago, and every time I get a chance like this I remember how much fun it is to play. At 50 years old keeping my chops in shape still sucks, but I love performing in groups. I've done some brass quintets and such, as well as plenty of college and HS musicals over the years, along with weddings, church gigs, etc.
Posted on a board in my office is an ancient copy of an article from The Instrumentalist magazine entitled "Director Puts Band in Proper Perspective." It's from a veteran teacher who finally decided that he'd had enough. Enough of the after-school sectionals, enough of the all-day Saturday rehearsals, enough of private lessons, etc. Midway through the article he says, "and you know what? My bands got better." And he goes on to detail the more relaxed atmosphere and his and his students' happiness.
One evening when my son was about three years old I came up the stairs from the laundry room wearing my jazz band shirt. Nathan loved everything I did with the bands; once I even brought him up on stage so the jazz band could play "Happy Birthday." He's a bass performance/elementary music ed major at MSU now, so apparently he wasn't too traumatized by my job. But I remember on this particular occasion seeing his face fall in disappointment as he realized that if I was wearing that shirt it meant I was leaving again. Who knows the reason for him not being excited about band on that one night? But it really hit me.
Occasionally I will read posts or replies on the BDG site that talk about the constant 16-hour days (not really exaggerating here) that some directors spend at school. Sometimes it is the younger teachers, perhaps just married or with a new baby at home, wondering how they can change things or avoid burnout. Recently there were a few posts about "I'm so sick I can't go to school, but I don't feel that I can take a sick day." I can tell you honestly that I have never, in 28 years of teaching, spent 16 hours at school unless it was during the high school musical season or connected to a football game, etc. In other words, because the band was performing or I was otherwise required to be there. So probably a dozen times per year, give or take.
As a point of reference, I run a 200+ member program with five performing ensembles that meet from zero through 5th hours. During the first semester my large marching band class counts as two classes in one, and splits into two separate hours second semester. Virtually all of those students march; we had 197 on the field this year. We perform for two separate high school football programs, covering virtually all Friday games for the regular season (full band or pep band), and usually all the home playoff games as well. The band does not travel to any away games except for state finals (three times in ten years).
Are you spending more than 12 hours at your building every day? I would honestly appreciate a look at what you're doing. No disrespect intended here; I am wondering what fills that much time. How much time do you spend on your off hours doing school stuff? This can include score study, sectionals, playing test evals, etc. Anything "off the clock" that is officially not part of your salary.
- Do you require sectionals, private study, etc.? Are your students buying in to what you are requiring? Do they do after-school sectionals because they are excited to learn more, or because it will affect their grade if they don't attend? The schedules my students maintain in activities do not allow me to require very many after-school band things; we do a Monday night rehearsal during marching season from6:30- 9:00.
- Can what you are doing wait until tomorrow so you can spend time with family or friends?
- What are your requirements for lesson planning, etc.? I know from more than one elementary teacher friend that many lessons take far longer to write than they do to actually teach. I fear that I would be in serious trouble if my district or state starts requiring me to do all of that every week...
Well, I hope to get some constructive commentary going regarding these thoughts. As I finish this post I am sitting in the living room with my wife and kids (who are home from college), having just completed a 12-hour day! Today was the second audition day for the HS musical, so we spent some serious time as a staff putting together the cast. Irony? Maybe, but I get paid for my role with the theater, so maybe not.
So... What DID you do last weekend? I hope it was fulfilling and meaningful and didn't have to involve your job!
Saturday, December 6, 2014
It's Been A While!
Wow. Almost exactly a month since I have written anything. Well, that's not exactly true - I have one completed that I won't publish but it felt good to write, as well as started a couple, and one more (about my trip back to the spring crash site) that I'm not quite sure about. So plenty of effort, but no product to show for it. Last week I started one about school lunches and Michelle Obama. I like my ideas, but at the time it felt like too much work!
So here's what's been up lately:
- The numbers on the scale generally are around 190 pounds, representing a total of 36 pounds off my frame in the last two years. I would like that number to be higher (or lower, depending on which of the two numbers you're talking about), but I feel good and am not concerned right now about a particular number.
- I finished another detox class. Dana and I actually taught this one, and I think things went pretty well. We had a few new students and one alumni to the program, and all reported feeling better as well as losing an average of, I believe, 8 pounds each over the course of the 28 days!
- I have been riding some since the Iceman race, but kind of took November off. I did get about 100 miles for the month, so that was good. The number for the year at this point is 2215 miles on at least four different bikes. THAT is a number I can get behind. Had I not broken myself I am certain I'd have cracked the 3K mark.
Today was an unusually beautiful December day, with the sun shining and temps in the mid-40s. It was also officially Global Fat Bike Day, so a couple of friends and I hit the trails in the Allegan Forest for about 15 miles. Great time!
It was a great way to end what turned out to be kind of a crappy week at school. Nothing major, just busy and frustrating. It started with the Christmas parade, in which the HS band marched in 17 degree weather because I decided the community needed to have the marching band in the parade rather than keep the students warm and their instruments working (seriously - by the end of the parade, less than a mile, the brass instruments were all frozen and unworkable, and the woodwinds literally had icicles forming inside them). I will not let that happen again! It ended, though, with getting to spend some quality time after school (and even during at least one class) with some great kids, which always helps me remember that pretty much any other job pales in comparison to mine.
So there you go. I will re-visit the few drafts I have in the folder, and hopefully finish them all soon!
So here's what's been up lately:
- The numbers on the scale generally are around 190 pounds, representing a total of 36 pounds off my frame in the last two years. I would like that number to be higher (or lower, depending on which of the two numbers you're talking about), but I feel good and am not concerned right now about a particular number.
- I finished another detox class. Dana and I actually taught this one, and I think things went pretty well. We had a few new students and one alumni to the program, and all reported feeling better as well as losing an average of, I believe, 8 pounds each over the course of the 28 days!
- I have been riding some since the Iceman race, but kind of took November off. I did get about 100 miles for the month, so that was good. The number for the year at this point is 2215 miles on at least four different bikes. THAT is a number I can get behind. Had I not broken myself I am certain I'd have cracked the 3K mark.
Today was an unusually beautiful December day, with the sun shining and temps in the mid-40s. It was also officially Global Fat Bike Day, so a couple of friends and I hit the trails in the Allegan Forest for about 15 miles. Great time!
It was a great way to end what turned out to be kind of a crappy week at school. Nothing major, just busy and frustrating. It started with the Christmas parade, in which the HS band marched in 17 degree weather because I decided the community needed to have the marching band in the parade rather than keep the students warm and their instruments working (seriously - by the end of the parade, less than a mile, the brass instruments were all frozen and unworkable, and the woodwinds literally had icicles forming inside them). I will not let that happen again! It ended, though, with getting to spend some quality time after school (and even during at least one class) with some great kids, which always helps me remember that pretty much any other job pales in comparison to mine.
So there you go. I will re-visit the few drafts I have in the folder, and hopefully finish them all soon!
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