first-world weird

"be the ball? i can't even see the ball."

i have a recurring nightmare that will get no sympathy.

some people have anxiety dreams about walking around naked, or showing up to class and it's finals day and they haven't studied, or being chased but unable to run away.

those sound familiar, right?

i have stress dreams about playing golf at pebble beach.

i know, boo hoo.

the theme is always the same. somehow i'm at one of the hallowed cathedrals of golf (a game i used to play with some enthusiasm), and i'm completely unable to hit the ball because i haven't touched a club in years. most often it's late in the day and we're trying to hurry around the course before dark. of course there are groups behind us, also wanting to finish, completely exasperated by my incompetence.

it's awful.

i wake up tired and stressed, wondering what the hell that was about. 

but i suppose it's better than being chased by monsters.

action seeking opportunity

my daughter and i gave five bucks to a homeless-looking guy on the corner. he handed her this...

anybody need an IT guy?

will run for wine

this race.

i ran a little race on saturday.

i needed some kind of organized event to keep my streak going (now at 28 months, but who's counting), and the columbia winery 10k was it.

it was my first non-trail event in a long time. the last one was the lake chelan marathon, which was september 2013. apparently i like trails.

anyhoo... columbia winery. a fundraiser for seattle children's hospital.

the course, in part on the sammamish river trail (which i run often), was flat and fast. much faster than i'm used to running.

this trail.

on unpaved trails i generally run 9- to 11-minute miles. saturday i ran at a 7:15 minute/mile pace. not fast compared to most, but for me it was moving right along.

turns out it was good enough for a PR at the 10k distance.
***********

this wine.

no, i didn't drink wine afterward. it was 9:30 in the morning.

but i did notice columbia makes a grenache rosé, which i am going to have to check into.

***********
results:

44:53
35/331 (overall)
2/6 (50-54)

mad poetry

People will forget what you said
People will forget what you did
But people will never forget how you made them feel

~ maya angelou

***********
i'm standing here cycling through the many ways robin williams made me feel.

and i keep coming back to one that has been true for years: awe.

when i was much younger, it was enough that he was outrageously funny, in a runaway high-speed train sort of way. i mean, i laughed at the humor in his standup operatics (you absolutely cannot call them "routines"), but it was the delivery ~ the topical theatrics, the manic digressions, the painfully profound wisdom, and the nuclear thread fusing them together ~ that dilated your brain.


even back then, i didn't think of him as a "comedian." the word is too small to describe what he did. and though the G-word is overused and underdelivered, robin williams was a genius of some sort. "mind-bending," maybe. or "effortless" or "profane" or "pure" or some other word that escalates "genius," because that word isn't big enough, either.

that's what we saw onstage or onscreen. a preposterous expression of writing and stagecraft and camera work and editing and a thousand other details. it was like watching a fiercely intelligent blowtorch.

behind the scenes, maybe "distraught" or "stricken" or "broken" was more apt.

***********
as the years swept by, i thought williams' best performances were when he wasn't being funny. the inexorable craft he demonstrated in moscow on the hudson. the agony of the fisher king. the vulnerability in dead poets society and good will hunting. the rage of good morning viet nam. and what dreams may come...that one still leaves me, uh, emotionally compromised.

he had the benefit of brilliant writing in those roles, but it was the all-in fearlessness he brought to them that will always stay with me.

***********
i was stunned the day i heard robin williams had died. i knew he had brawled for years with depression ~ but i guess i thought that fight was behind him. then i read he was in the early stages of parkinson's disease. it's tempting to write, "...and it all made sense." but it didn't. not really. 

no more so than anything else in this life.

today, the shock is wearing off. 

but sense of loss rolls on.

***********
"We don't read and write poetry because it's cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. Medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for. 

"To quote from Whitman, 'O me! O life!... of the questions of these recurring; of the endless trains of the faithless... of cities filled with the foolish; what good amid these, O me, O life?' 

"Answer. That you are here - that life exists, and identity; that the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse. That the powerful play goes on ~ and you may contribute a verse. 

"What will your verse be?"

~ from dead poets society

***********

his was one hell of a verse...

outrage + us

dear barry,

as you probably recall, you and i shook hands back in 2006. twice, in fact.

it was out in front of the chicago tribune building, where you had just met with the editorial board. there was a camera crew outside, to whom you gave a couple minutes, and then you worked the pedestrians and passers-by a little bit.


those people really liked you. they smiled and encouraged you to run for president. we shook hands on your way up the street (i said something clever like, "nice to meet you, senator."), and then again as you worked back the other way. no idea what i said that time, but maybe you remember.

in the months leading up to the 2008 election, i campaigned for you and raised money for you. i believed you would lead the anti-bush administration, that you would be the guy who would swing the pendulum from the batsh*t-crazy right back to the left.

and don't get me wrong, you've done some extraordinary things. for one, you turned around an economy in total meltdown. and i really appreciate obamacare, not to mention the supreme court justices you've appointed. they will make a huge, positive difference for a lot of people for a long time.

having said that, barry, you and i can't hang out together any more.

because of this:

twisted.

"...before I came into office I was very clear that in the immediate aftermath of 9/11 we did some things that were wrong.  We did a whole lot of things that were right, but we tortured some folks.  We did some things that were contrary to our values.

 I understand why it happened.  I think it’s important when we look back to recall how afraid people were after the Twin Towers fell and the Pentagon had been hit and the plane in Pennsylvania had fallen, and people did not know whether more attacks were imminent, and there was enormous pressure on our law enforcement and our national security teams to try to deal with this.  And it’s important for us not to feel too sanctimonious in retrospect about the tough job that those folks had.  And a lot of those folks were working hard under enormous pressure and are real patriots."

barry, you're a constitutional law professor. you, more than most, know words have power and meaning. you know this, and yet you just stood up before the whole wide world and said being afraid is an excuse to do unconscionable things. 

you just said that when people are working hard under enormous pressure, anything goes. 

and you characterized a pack of ravening war criminals as "real patriots."

does pointing all this out make me "sanctimonious"? if so, i don't care. because defining-down sociopathic behavior as "patriotism" is more than just grotesque. it guarantees that the same thing will happen again in some future crisis. it also ensures the same behavior will be practiced against america ~ because what's legit policy for the US is legit for everybody else.

i hate to state the obvious, especially to the constitutional law professor in the room, but we're either a nation of laws, barry, or we're not. we either walk the talk, or we don't. (and if you ever want to use the phrase "american exceptionalism" with a straight face, you don't let the war criminals off the hook because they were stressed out.)

"we tortured some folks." 

seriously? you make it sound like the bush administration hazed a few pledges at a fraternity party. 

what really happened is that the united states officially adopted a policy of "...international kidnappings (euphemistically called "renditions") of terror suspects, including completely innocent people the CIA snatched off the streets of global cities, as well as from the backlands of the planet and "rendered" into the hands of well-known torturing regimes (with the help of 54 other countries) and the setting up of a network of "black sites" or offshore prisons where anything went, the CIA tortured up a storm. And it did so at the behest of the top officials of the Bush administration, including the president and vice president." 

barry, i could go on and on, but what would be the point? you know all of this, in gruesome detail. and we haven't even mentioned the war ginned up for no good reason whatsoever.

i don't get how you can shrug all this off, like it's nothing. sorry, i can't. or maybe more accurately, i won't. 

if that makes me sanctimonious...i guess i'll just have to learn to live with it.

chucka-nuts

well...that was hard.

the chuckanut mountain marathon is described as a course that "...will test runners' skill on narrow and technical single track trails, long climbs and descents, a shorter steep climb, with some beautiful views from the Chuckanut Ridge, Fragrance Lake, and Lost Lake Trail. Course has about 4,525 feet of elevation gain."

all true, but it doesn't quite capture the, uh, focus required to take advantage of all the beauty.

chuckanut is a beast.

there's a lot of steep vertical on the course, which makes for a lot of compartmentalization. no point in looking all the way up there (squints at some theoretical top of a burly climb), when the steps right in front of your face will do.

several times i thought of a line recently shared by a very wise ultrarunner, john morelock, in reference to the riders in the tour de france: "All they can do now is drop their eyes and drag themselves on up the mountain." it was a very useful reminder, as was one of my go-to kicks in the behind: 

"you're not puking and nothing's broken, so get going." ~ vivian mcQueeney

despite the many rigors, i didn't really blow up until the aid station at about mile 17.5. within a few minutes of leaving there, my stomach went bad, my proprioception started to fail, and my head went all foggy. maybe i was dehydrated, i don't know. sitting here today, slightly less foggy, i still don't know. and i certainly didn't know at mile 18 or 19 or 20...

...all i knew was, suddenly everything was harder, and i still had a long way to go. running along the spectacular chuckanut ridge i stopped, probably half a dozen times, to self-assess or just collect myself, but nothing enlightening came of it. there was no epiphanous thought other than, "these miles aren't gonna run themselves." so, i kept going.

there was an aid station mile 21-ish, and in retrospect i wonder if i was looking kinda lousy. "are you doing okay?" asked one of the very nice volunteers, looking me in the eye. "yup," i said, looking him back in the eye. i'm not sure why it seemed important to do that. i mean, it's not like he was going to drag me off the course (at least, i don't think so). either way, he seemed to believe me, as i slurped down a couple orange sections.

meanwhile, another runner sat next to the aid table, his head down, looking like he might've recently thrown up. the volunteer called down to the finish line, requesting a ride for the guy, at which point i said, "thank you," and trudged away. "don't sit down," i reminded myself. "whatever you do, don't. sit. down."

inconvenient tune playing on endless loop in my head for many miles (thanks, brain!): 

You asked me

How long I'd stay by your side
And so I answered
With only just one reply

Til the casket drops
Til my dying day
Til my heartbeat stops
Til my legs just break
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa
Whoa, whoa, whoa,
Til the casket drops

such a happy little slogging tune!

chuckanut mountain thoroughly kicked my behind this time around. and as i was finishing the last couple miles i was thinking i would never want to run it again. that thought didn't last 24 hours. sitting here now, i'm already thinking what it will take to do better next year. there will need to be lots more hill repeats, that's certain. and maybe a better race day plan than, "____."

maybe bring along some ginger for the belly issues, which should let me hydrate more effectively, which should keep me from feeling like i'm stroking out. 

there. it's a plan.

***********

arbitrary, unsupported theory: this course has a lot more than 4500 feet of elevation to it. or, maybe i'm just a big baby.

***********

update: post-race, upon hearing my travails, a concerned mrs. spaceneedl asked if at any point i considered dropping from the race. she thought it might've been the smart thing to do.

full disclosure: i did think about it. but i never considered it. as long as i was conscious, i was going to finish.

reason #infinity why she's the smart one in the family.


***********

update II: according to my garmin data, the elevation for 26 miles was just over 5900 feet.

snake bit

"it's just a half marathon..." i said to myself. 

ha ha. i am so dumb.

i mean seriously. by now i've run enough trail events to know not to take anything for granted. to know that there's no such thing as "just a half marathon."

and to know that you don't leave your legs on the trail during an 8-mile group run the day before the race.

oh, yes. i did that.

***********
the course description for the rattlesnake ridge 13.1 says, "elevation gain: about 2700 feet." what it doesn't say it that the majority of that gain is in the first 5-ish miles. so if you left your legs somewhere in discovery park the day before, you might find yourself thinking, "i am a terrible runner. this is so runnable. i should totally be running right now," while you hike as quickly as possible. 

so, as beautiful as the course and the day turned out to be (and they were gorgeous), my crabby attitude completely sabotaged the occasion.

***********
saturday flashback: the group run was great, in that it was the first time since sun mountain that my legs actually felt healthy. in fact, it felt so good to feel so good that i was falling over myself to seize the day (even if it was the day-before). 

and by falling over myself, i mean literally. 

fall #1: stepped in a hole in the dunes above the bluff. whump. sand, all up everywhere. 
fall #2: tripped on a root so cleverly disguised that it was nearly invisible even after i picked myself up off the trail and looked for it. 

falling down is funny, really. especially when you're not the guy who fell down. twice.

***********
i didn't fall down on sunday.

which i certainly could have done, many times over (and don't think that the thought didn't occur to me ~ many times over). the footing was tough in places, especially on the long descent to rattlesnake lake. lots of roots and rocks and lines of fall and, oh yes, the hoards of happy day-hikers heading up the hill.

"runner!" they'd sometimes say as we were trying to pass by without brushing, bumping or otherwise bulldozing grandma and baby hortense. other times no one said anything, and we slowed to weave through the sun worshipers and nature appreciators appreciating the sh*t out of the entire trail.

administrative note: as during most trail events, the rattlesnake mountain trail is not closed for the race. and i'm not saying it should be. i'm just saying, "holy sh*t, i hope i don't run into anyone or break my leg on this lovely downhill sprint and maybe i should slow down even though that's not so easy momentum and inertia-wise..."

i didn't fall down on sunday, and i don't believe i caused anyone else to fall down, either. any day i can say that, it should be considered a good day.

***********
my attitude improved during the long downhill, possibly because i was moving at a more reasonable, gravity-assisted pace. then came the bottom of the hill, where you might think, "ha, i survived and i'm done!" and, like at sun mountain, you'd be wrong. 

still to go was an interminable, flat-ish 3-mile out-and-back on the snoqualmie valley trail, which seemed to go uphill in both directions. you could see a loooong way down this section of old railroad right-of-way, and even though there were runners heading back from it, the turnaround point stubbornly refused to appear. this may have been symptomatic of my once-again deteriorating attitude...but i don't think so. i think someone was having fun, moving the sign farther and farther down the trail, just to see who they could make cry.

***********
accord to the results web site, at some point i did cross the finish line. i'm not still out there, so clearly i stopped running, eventually.

i made (at least) two mistakes this day that i will endeavor not to make again:

#1: don't run the race the day before the race
#2: don't get so caught up in your "time" and "where you finish" that you make it impossible to enjoy a day that is impossible not to enjoy.

i mean, seriously.

***********
rattlesnake ridge 13.1

mental difficulty: extraordinary
perceived exertion: more than sun mountain 50k
rattlesnakes seen: 0
fun had: 0

2:26:44
26/96 ~ overall
3/9 ~ 50-59

crossing two bridges

i've worked in healthcare for a long time.

i can walk into a hospital and unblinkingly head to a cadaver lab, participate in what goes on there, and walk back out with a purposeful stride.

i drink later, but on the way in and out: purposeful.

walking in with a loved one who's about to become a patient? my gait loses all certainty. i can't find my way through the byzantine hallways. my brain goes to a slow, low-functioning place.

including two sky bridges thirty feet above minor ave. and marion street, the path from the physician's office to the surgical center is less than a quarter mile, but like the hallways in the overlook hotel, it goes on forever.

i'm breathing shallow, wary and uneasy and apprehensive. i'm used to being able to do something about something, somehow. here, not the case.

mind you, that's what's going on on the inside. what's going on on the outside is all bonhomie, all the time.

"so, just to be clear, i should NOT lose the earrings? don't. 'don't' lose the earrings. got it."

"hi, donna. so, how's your hand hygiene? i wasn't going to ask, but this sign says you want to be asked. mine? mine is awful. i just went for a swim in the MRSA lab."

"she's strong. her first baby came out sideways. she didn't scream or nothin'."

"you know, if you're asleep when the anesthesiologist gets here, she'll be thrilled. 'she's already asleep? awesome, i'm going golfing.'"

me: want to recline your seat?
her: nope.
me: you sure?
her: yup.
me: ...
me: want to play with the sharps container?

then she is asleep, and i'm standing watch. activity swirls by in the hall, full of purposeful people. i know that feeling, and it would come in handy now. doesn't matter. it's my watch, purpose enough.

after an interminable wait, the anesthesiologist glides in, and now we're awake and all-business. question, question, answer, answer. caveat, advisory, question, answer.

"all right, then, if you'll come with me...

doctor and patient walk toward serious-looking doors, and a chatty nurse leads me toward a bright, spacious family waiting area. daytime tv yammers on the set next to me, and i remember that daytime tv sucks. i wouldn't have thought it possible that it could be more brainless than evening tv, but somehow it manages.

people walking by outside look through the windows at those of us on the inside. people push other people in wheelchairs. cars pull up, load fragile passengers, and drive away.

there's a starbuck's logo on the sign marking the main entrance to the hospital. there's a starbuck's logo. on the sign. marking the main entrance. to the hospital.

i look up, look around, and it occurs to me that from where i am right now, i have no idea how to get back to the car, in a parking lot, in a different building.

all i remember is crossing two bridges...

***********

the doctor comes into the waiting area, and tells me everything went great. this and that, what to expect post-op, no worries, oh, and happy birthday.

i wasn't expecting that. and because it caught me off guard, my stoic slipped, just for a moment.

me (small smile, eyebrows up): "thank you."

the tears stayed in.

the new normal

"Just drove by Otto Miller Hall on my way home from work and completely broke down. I live less than a mile away, and drive by or run by there daily. This was a place I spent hours taking classes, studying for exams, and visiting friends. It was a place I always felt safe. Now, one person has taken all that away."

~ from a post on FB

***********

every day another refuge is breached, another sanctuary defiled. and every day decent people retreat, saying, "nothing can be done."

home-grown terrorism is now normalized because "there's nothing we can do about it."

and because lots and lots of americans believe...

"your dead kids don’t trump my constitutional rights."

~ actual quote by some idiot hero of the lunatic fringe and go-to-idiot for idiot media quotes after this week's ho-hum terrorist attack

random premise: if these attacks were being perpetrated by brown people in robes, rather than by white american males, no one would be saying "nothing can be done."

just a guess here that the response would be different because brown people in robes are scary and bad, but white males with guns, well, they're the real americans.

again, just wild speculation, but if the scary/bad people were killing kids at schools every other week there'd be a fucking manhattan project underway and trillions of dollars would be in the process of being spent, and a massive media campaign would be running to convince people that "something can be done, and by god we're doing it."

instead of, you know, not.

because, guns. and 'murka.

***********
Seattle Mayor Ed Murray opened with, "Friends, we have been here before:..."

Our police are to be commended for their quick response.
The emergency medical staff performed in an exemplary manner.
The students reacted and performed as they had been taught.
One student, a building monitor, went beyond the call.
The nearby hospital was professional and did all they could.
...
Tonight, just another name, someone unknown, on the beads.
...
I am just so happy we have enough shootings so people of all walks of life are becoming better at behaving properly when they hear gunshots.

~ john morelock

now we know

just yesterday i asked "who's next?"

who will be the next victims of berserk gun violence in our bloodthirsty country.

now we know.

this is the campus at Seattle Pacific University, where 4,000 students and teachers go to learn valuable lessons about science and philosophy and the arts and where to hide during a mass shooting.

this is the scene this afternoon in front of the gym where my daughter (and dozens of other young girls and their coaches) practice gymnastics.

by sheer, blind chance, the girls were not yet at the gym today when seven people were shot.

right. fucking. there.

fuck this.

killing time

today, as i type, this memorial sits a half a block from our house.

it sprang up this weekend for molly conley, a girl who will never turn 16.

molly no longer lives in the house across the street from us, because she was shot and killed one year ago. on her birthday.

we never met her, but we know her mom, a smart, plucky woman who is, at once, unblinkingly dauntless and utterly destroyed by the loss of her daughter.

she takes her place next to the father whose son was shot and killed a couple weeks ago in santa barbara; the loved ones of three people shot and killed in myrtle beach two days later; and those of seven people shot and killed in chicago last weekend.


over the past several years americans have been conditioned to fear many things, most of which are statistically little or no threat. but because people are afraid, they do dumb things ~ like buy more guns.

it says here that more than 450,000 people in washington state have a permit to carry a concealed handgun. over 100,000 of them are women, and the growth rate for women getting those permits is double that of men.

the refrain among those quoted in the story was the same: "i'm taking responsibility for my safety and protecting myself and refusing to be a victim."

which is to say, they've drunk the NRA kool-aid.

the fact is, more guns equals more shootings and more deaths. 

and women who carry guns for "self-defense" actually increase their odds of being shot.

yay, logic. yay, fear.

americans are outrageously susceptible to well-funded propaganda. if a story supports the cowboy image we've cultivated for generations, by god we believe it. if we're told that guns make us strong and safe and personally responsible, we rush out and buy tens of millions of them.

so we can kill each other (and ourselves) to the tune of 32,000 gun-deaths a year.

ignorant, fearful, and indoctrinated is a toxic combination that has poisoned the american well.

and we just can't seem to stop drinking from it.

"Picture any bragging, gun-wielding gang banger, swaggering cowboy, mafia kingpin, big game hunter, vengeance-seeking action hero, open-carry doofus or would-be mass shooter you like. Now remove the gun from the picture. What do you have? That’s right: Another nervous schlub standing there, looking lost."

~ mark morford

heading toward center

"I am home. In the here. In the now."  

~ Thich Nhat Hanh

***********

this morning in the drowsy place between sleep and omg i have to get up, it occurred to me that one of our cats is a living work of art.

the palette of her coat is a riot of orange and white and black and brown. her face is perfectly divided side-to-side, orange and black.

she snuggles up and purrs and makes our little world a better place.

in the few moments it took this thought to coalesce, i further realized that all the lives around us are living, breathing performance art.

all these lives are unique and belong to no one but themselves. i believe this like i believe in gravity.

i don't see how i can continue being a carnivore.

post game

photo by matt stebbins

the sun mountain 50k rambles over a gorgeous and civilised course high above the methow valley. 

you bound past fields of wildflowers, gawk at spectacular views, and jabber with agreeable people. 

for a first-50k (or any 50k, really) you couldn't draw it up any better.

until you get to the last five miles.

that's where the lovely and amiable and hospitable course turns vicious and beastly and mean. here's a comment from a 2013 participant...

"I cried climbing that last hill last year. Luckily I was wearing sunglasses when Glenn Tachiyama snapped my photo at that point." ~ melody mândrean coleman

it's not that the hill is steep, though it is, or that it ascends thousands of feet, which it totally seems to do. it's that looking up at it after already having run 25 miles is so visually intimidating that you just want to stand there and say, "oh, no. no, no. hell, no." that, and "are you f*cking kidding me?"

but of course you didn't come this far to be turned away, so you fix your eyes on the trail and you climb.

meanwhile, the runners who summited the hill before you are now bombing back down the trail past you. yes, it's an up-and-back. so, you step off the trail to avoid a mass casualty incident, then try to get back into some sort of climbing rhythm. sidestep-resume-repeat.

when you finally get to the top, there's a little temporary sign stuck in the ground that says, "runners turn around here." it seems woefully anticlimactic, but absent other options, you tap the sign, turn, and head back down.

the fight against gravity at this point is a life-and-death matter. gravity wants you to go down fast and awkward, regardless of the impact on your face and bones. your brain feeds back, "uh, this could get ugly quick if you're not paying attention," while your quads look for an opportunity to mutiny.

that's when the cramp started. inside my left leg, running from the knee up to the groin. there's never a good time for a cramp like this, but running a steep, rocky downhill is a particularly bad time.

a cramp like this and catching a toe on a rock simultaneously? muy no bueno. the adrenaline rush at that moment was eye-popping. maybe it was that, or just blind luck, but for whatever reason the trail gods saw fit to allow me to stay upright rather flying-flailing-falling many feet down the slope.

"whoa," i said, mostly because there was nothing much else to say.

the cramp became manageable just about the time the trail spit me out onto the road at the bottom of the hill.

at this point runners might be forgiven for thinking, "okay, this has got to be the finish, right? i mean, no one puts the finish line another mile and a half away after a hill like that."

they'd be wrong.

after an interval that feels like but is not quite forever, you're back on the trail that takes you to the finish line, where you high-five race director james varner and hold that high-five for at least a couple seconds before letting go, because it feels good and in its own little way, important.

***********
the sun mountain 50k is a brilliant event put on by rainshadow running. if you're in the market for such things, this venue, and james's events in general, are not to be missed.

***********
i'm tired today, but not destroyed. turns out my readiness for a 50k was enough after all. going forward, though, it would probably be wise to have a little more training cushion than "just enough, but not one step more."

sun mountain 50k
5:52:21
86/155
12/23 (50-59)

the long game

craving clarity. or beer. whatever.

now the years are rolling by me

they are rocking easily
i am older than I once was
and younger than I'll be

that's not unusual
no, it isn't strange
after changes upon changes
we are more or less the same
after changes we are 

more or less the same

~ paul simon

***********

welp, i'm all trained up for a road marathon.

trouble is, i'm signed up for a trail 50k.

part of me thinks, "dude, you're in trouble." another part thinks, "no, it'll be okay." 

this weekend, we find out.

my foundation to run 26.2 on pavement is built on many trail miles, and not quite as many road miles. i have yet to discover the equation in which the those miles add up to 31 on a tough trail course.

unless...!

unless we throw into the formula the "T" variable, defined as trail miles going by much quicker than road miles and generating far less mental fatigue. i think it's one of planck's theorems, or hawking's, or einstein's. somebody smart, i.e., not me.

the inclusion of the T variable changes everything. if i believe it, it can be true. to quote a trail runner far more accomplished than i: "i will start, and i will finish. the rest will be decided by the mountains." ~ gary robbins

it's not an exact quote, but close enough, and i stand by it completely. (minus the definitive "i will start" and "i will finish" parts. i choose not to incite/amuse the irony gods. they love to decide stuff when mortals speak in absolutes).

let's try it this way:

"i hope to start, and i hope to finish on my feet and able to drink a beer afterward. in between, the trail, the elevation, wild animals, and the irony gods will decide."  ~ me

there. that.

***********

after changes upon changes
we are more or less the same
after changes we are 

more or less the same

a couple years ago i was sure i'd never want to run a marathon. after running a marathon i was sure i'd never want to run farther. sunday, with luck, i will line up to run farther. in the brief time since i stopped hating running, there have been significant changes...but for some reason, i feel pretty much the same. 

probably because earth is a swirling, confusing place.

whatever. when all is said and done, in a world of infinite variables and a lifetime of finite moments, if there is clarity in even one of those moments...everything will be okay.

miles to go

"I will start, and I will finish. The rest is to be determined by the mountains." ~ gary robbins, before the UTMF 100

selfie by gary robbins.

gary robbins is one of the most formidable runners on the planet.

but he didn't finish the UTMF 100. not the way he planned, anyway. 

as crash davis sagely noted, "sometimes you win. sometimes you lose. sometimes it rains."

and, sometimes you hear a 'click' in your foot, and your day is over.

g-rob was right about one thing, though: the mountains determined the outcome. 

whatever form they take, they always do.

april flowers

here's a photo of lush-looking ferns and foliage.

i don't like to talk about the weather here, but seattle had 9 inches of rain in march.

so, i'm gonna talk a little about weather.

even in rainy seattle, nine inches of rain is a lot of rain. it easily broke the previous record for march, at least for as long as people have been keeping track of such things around here. we have no idea what the actual record may have been before that, but my official guess is "12 feet during the cretaceous period."

weather's a tricky topic. nobody wants to hear about it unless it's extreme, and things are either flooding or bursting into flames.

this fact is not lost on the weather channel, which recently started assigning scary names to major winter storms.

weather channel marketer: "people love big storms, epic storms, storms that have names! it's a shame there aren't more hurricanes every year."
weather channel intern: "well, we could start naming WINTER storms. boreas, kronos, maximus..."
weather channel marketer: "that's huge!! go get me some coffee."

here's a photo of me
running in the rain.

with all the rain, there's probably a big ol' bolus of ferns and flowers and other foliage in our future. i think this may already be true, in fact, because for the first time in years i have allergies. or a weird, achy-dizzy cold. or an invasive pulmonary moss.

despite the weather, i spent a good bit of time outdoors in march. 112 miles worth, according to my handy-dandy garmin, plus an unknown number of miles walking the dogs. they got wet, too, but so far have exhibited no signs of moss.

***********

it's april now, and viola! like somebody turned off the faucet. and just yesterday we had a 70F day. it was glorious, and i celebrated by doing nothing. game called on account of flu-like symptoms. wait, i did have a lunchtime nap in my car, does that count?

if things go according to plan, april 2014 will be remembered not for a mysterious ailments, but for a spring break trip to hawaii and many miles piled up in preparation for a 50k trail race in may. the past few days, however, the miles have not been piling up because the symptoms have been piling on.

i find this worrisome because a 50k trail race is no joke, and i'd really prefer to be prepared for this one, as it's my first. i don't have time to be sick. so after today, i won't be. that is all.

***********

saturday is a travel day, and then instead of putting on extra layers we'll be putting on sunscreen. "barefoot running" won't entail minimalist footwear, it'll mean running while actually barefoot. and for the first time in a while, staying hydrated via osmosis won't be possible. we will counter with hydration vests, handheld bottles, and a cooler full of coronas at the beach.

here's a photo of weather at kailua beach, oahu.

the 10-day forecast for kailua beach calls for highs in the upper 70s with a chance of showers. it's the kind of weather ~ boring, predictable, perfect ~ that no one wants to hear about.

unless they're enjoying it themselves.

despite this, and with your kind permission, there's a near-100% chance i will talk about weather here in the coming days...