Sign Posts and Tail Lights

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And just like that, she was gone…

When your first born comes into the world, everything, EVERY-THING, changes.  Your relationship with the world changes.  You’re there when you bring her home.  You’re there for the first diaper change.  You are literally her world.

You spend years emotionally preparing for that moment you’ll watch her walk across the stage at her high school graduation.

And then one day, seemly out of no where, she does just that: walks across the stage and collects her high school diploma.  Just like that, she’s an adult.  All those years culminated in 15-seconds.  And at that point, our society pretty much says, “you’re a high school graduate, you’re an adult.”  And thus, she was.

There are other moments along the way that portend those milestones.  The first time I watched her drive away in her own car really hit home to me the notion that she was growing up.  As I watched those tail-lights get smaller and eventually disappear, I instinctively knew there was a metaphor there for me.

The college visits, applications, acceptances and eventually the moves-in are right up there with those tail lights.  All small signs that the world is getting larger, inch by inch, like unnoticed highway mile marker numbers increasing almost imperceptibly until you realize you’re no longer at “mile 1.”

Today holds another one of those sign posts.

A little less than a month ago, she finished her last undergraduate class.  She walked out of the final exam and was formally done with college.  Just like that.  Another chapter of her life was over, although “over” the way a football team kills the clock in victory formation; her school has only one commencement, so she has to wait to “officially” be a graduate. Today she collects her graduation present from us: 7-weeks in Europe.  France and England, and wherever else her wanderlust carriers her.

It’s something we’ve thought about for months and intellectually knew it was going to happen from the time the idea sprang to life to became “real,” but it was so far off.  I mean, it was a graduation present, and good lord that’s not going to happen for months now.  Until it was here.

Today, I will bring her to Logan Airport’s Terminal E, get her where she needs to go, so she can get her boarding passes, luggage checked, and be screened through security.  Just like that, somewhere overhead lights on an aircraft wing will rise up from the ground and become increasingly smaller until they eventually disappear.

She’s undeniably an adult.  Her world is becoming a larger place.  Five months from now, she will again have her name announced and she will again walk across a stage to collect a diploma.  Officially closing another chapter of her life, opening to a new, as yet undecided, one.

It’s been a long time since I was her world and I knew it had been from the first time I saw those tail lights disappear: that reminder it’s a parents job to teach their kids to be independent adults, capable of having their own lives and building their own world.  She’s done just fine with that, thank you very much.  Today, I’m reminded of that feeling all over again and I’m hopeful that no matter how big her world gets, there will still be part of it there for us.

DNF

I came,  I attempted something I wasn’t sure I could complete, and…I didn’t.

The Fat Ass 50K was certainly going to be a challenge – I’d never actually run more than a little more than 13 miles in one block, and I gave myself about 24-hours to prepare – but hell one of my goals this year is to attempt 5 things I’m not sure I can complete.  And Lo.

I didn’t.

Now, not completing the challenge wasn’t a direct result of being unsure I could.  I feel good that it wasn’t about defining my success too easily – we got 18 miles in.  A new high water mark for me, and I feel like I earned that high water mark.  I feel good that it wasn’t about giving myself an excuse not to complete it – “I didn’t think I could and see?”  I was ready to crawl the rest of the distance if I had to.

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My race buddy – someone whom I admire and respect immensely – convinced me to pull the plug.  I spent the better part of the last 3 miles walking for longer periods of time, dealing with knee pain.  It also just so happened to start snowing at the end of our first 6-mile loop and by the time we got to Mile 18, it was coming down pretty good – unbeknownst to us (although, as native and lifelong New Englanders we “knew”), the roads home were going to be brutal.  The trails were quickly becoming overly hazardous for running.  It was something like 19-degrees.

Now, do I have an excuse?  Sure, I have plenty.  Fact is, though, the race wasn’t finished.  It wasn’t finished for a bunch of reasons. Were it just my knees, I would’ve pushed; were it just the weather, I would’ve pushed.  But it wasn’t.  It was a 50-mile drive home in white-out conditions, it was the increasing possibility of serious injury on the trail.   Here’s one really important take away from my first completed goal of the year: when you make the decision to quit, it means other things are more important.

The reality that I would have finished last – I mean like dead last by a LOT – wasn’t a factor.  It wasn’t important enough to me not to finish last that I quit.  I WANTED to finish; hell I was all set to crawl my way if I had to.  This race was for my dad, after all. What was a factor, though, is that if we were dead last, we would have been the only people in the park and the possibility of getting stuck would be vastly increased.  So, uncharacteristically, Rich was the one arguing the better course to chart was to quit.

So, there’s only one thing I could’ve changed yesterday: my own ability.  Had I been better conditioned, we would’ve been faster, and therefore would have been better positioned to finish.

Next time, I plan to have all those variables lining up in a way that makes it more probable than not that I will finish.  My plan this year is to set goals without worrying about whether or not I know I can succeed, Sine metu ad metam.  This was the embodiment of that.

Accountability Report Week 1

In my last post, I talked about getting better (to the point I made that the title – Yay Bleachers!) and my plan for the now current year.

Here is how I plan to get better (Categories with updated bolded):

  1. 1000 Miles (20 Miles/week):
    As I near the end of week 1, I’m at 24.9 Miles – just about 5 miles over plan.  Truth be told I should be at 25, but my watch died mid run and I didn’t capture some distance.  Since I don’t have it recorded, it didn’t happen and therefore I sit at 24.9.
  2. #Kill22 Challenge: Add a push up a day to the challenge.
    1. Day 6: Check
  3. 2 Rounds (4 months) of Beachbody “Insanity”
    1. Starts Sunday.
  4. Spartan Trifecta
    1. Scheduled
    2. Additional Sprint Scheduled (x2 Trifecta?)
  5. 2 Half Marathons – one of which will be less than 2 hours
  6. I will attempt at least 5 things that I’m not convinced I can complete
    1. To succeed, you cannot fear failure.
    2. Fear is a liar, desperate to convince you that you cannot succeed.

      The first of 5 things happens this weekend: The Fat Ass 50k Trail Run.  The furthest I’ve ever run in one block was 13.5 miles.  In fact, I can count on one hand the number of runs I’ve had of 13+ miles: 3.  All of which were street runs, this is a cross-country/trail race. So I’m ill-prepared, and certainly not trained up for this. I may fail – 30 Miles is not to be trifled with.  In fact, there’s a significant probability I will fail.  But I’m going to try, because if I don’t try, I’ll never know if I can do it or even what my limits are.

      I haven’t quite figured out how to quantify this goal, so the best I can do right now is say, “trust me, I know when I’m unsure.” I’ve stated my attempt and why I believe I may not complete it.  For now, I think that works.   That said, if I do conquer the entire 30 miles, that would mean I’ve smashed my first weekly goal by 35 miles – had I set that as a goal, I wouldn’t have believed I could do that. It’s going to be a long day – easily 5+ hours.  Wish me luck.

1000 Miles: I’m staring at the interstate screaming at myself

HEY! I WANNA GET BETTER.” Last January 1, I decided I needed to do something different – if nothing changes, nothing changes – and so on January 2, 2016 I proceeded to walk 18 miles or so.  It doesn’t seem like a lot in retrospect, but at the time it was the longest such trip I had done in as long as I can remember.

This January 2, I find myself in a different place.  Before this past year, I could count the number of races I had actually run on one hand.  By days’ end December 31, I had completed 66 races; the majority of which were 5k, but as the year progressed they increased in their distance: 10k, Ragnar relay, Spartan trifecta, marathon relay, half-marathon.

On January 1, I started the year with a 5-Mile race.  Today, I ran a half-marathon distance.  I wanna get better.  My goal last year was number of races; my goal this year is distance.  1000.  I finished the race yesterday at position 100 of 254.  I can do better.  I finished 71/132 of Men.  Should definitely do better.  I finished 22/28 in my age group.  I HAVE to do better.  I’ve been working at this over 66 races and 328 miles over the past year.   If I had finished 254/254, or 132/132. or 28/28 and I felt like that was all I was capable of, I think I could be okay with that.  But its not.  I KNOW it’s not.

Last February 13, I ran my very first race of the year.  As I was leaving my then ten-year old son left me with these parting words: “I hope you do great, and that this is your worst race of the year.”  I did.  And it was.  It took me over 29-minutes to finish that 5k, but it was the best I could do at that point.  For the rest of the year, I didn’t come close to that time for a 5k street race.

I ran that 13.1 miles today.  My knees started giving me the business at mile 10 and for the next 2 miles my pace slowed to almost 11-minute miles.  I bargained one more mile with myself and pushed through a more reasonable pace, but the damage was done to my time and my proverbial heart.  I got the half-marathon, but the rest was not to be had today.

This is where it would be easy to stop.  Get discouraged.  Give up the goal.  But alas, enter the support system.

It’s not about the mileage. It’s about your inner-dialogue.  You’re done with the 5K stuff. You are on a whole level and you don’t know it. You went for 18 because there is a part of you that knows it’s possible. Trust it and again do it for someone for which failure is not an option; Dedicate your next run to your father.

I know what my plan is.  I know what I have to do to get to my plan.  I know what I have to do to punch that plan in the face and go beyond.  I cannot allow myself the option of failure.  Today was as much a failure of the will as it was of the body, and I know that.  I was given good advice and direction from one of my biggest supporters: think about your dad,

Near the end of the year, I wished that I had chronicled my races.  How they went.  Commit those feelings to writing.  I’m going to do better this year.

Here is how I plan to get better:

  1. 1000 Miles (20 Miles/week):
    As of 1/2/17 – Week 1:18.1/1000
  2. #Kill22 Challenge: Add a push up a day to the challenge.
    1. Day 2: Check
  3. 2 Rounds (4 months) of Beachbody “Insanity”
  4. Spartan Trifecta
    1. Scheduled
    2. Additional Sprint Scheduled (x2 Trifecta?)
  5. 2 Half Marathons – one of which will be less than 2 hours
  6. I will attempt at least 5 things that I’m not convinced I can complete
    1. To succeed, you cannot fear failure.
    2. Fear is a liar, desperate to convince you that you cannot succeed.

I KNOW I can accomplish most of the goals on this list, which is why #6 is so important.  It is the least quantifiable – I either run 2 halfs, one in less than -hours or I don’t – but what does “I’m not convinced” mean?  It means that it will be something I haven’t done, but it also means that I have to be honest with myself.  It can’t be an ex-post-facto excuse for failing something at which I thought I should succeed.  As such, I’ll do my level best to be honest and accountable.

January 1 – 5 Miles; 5 Miles Total

January 2 – 13.1 Miles; 18.1 Miles Total.

2017 is getting punched in the mouth.

2016 The Year In The Rearview

Be sure to be thankful for the past year.

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Lemmy From Billboard.com

One of my all time music idols passed away last December 28 – Lemmy Kilmister passed away from an aggressive form of cancer days after having been diagnosed.  2016 was not  to be an auspicious year on that front: David Bowie, Maurice White, Prince, Keith Emerson, Greg Lake.  Just a tough year for the classics…and some of the names of my childhood.

The most bizarre Presidential election cycle of my lifetime came to a close in November…in the most unlikely ways.  I’m still letting the phrase “President-elect Trump” sink in.  He may well be President before I can swallow that phrase.

The mother of one of my oldest and dearest friends succumbed to the cancer that she had willed at bay.

As we close the year, I’m anticipating the flood of “So long 2016…” and “may 2017 suck less than 2016” posts all over social media.  With all of this, by and large, 2016 has been an amazing year for me. I learned some things about the power of goals and endurance.  I learned some things about humility and being willing to step out of my comfort zone and try something different.

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2016, a year of goals

On January 2, I set out amongst the snow and slush, making my way on an 18-mile round trip walk to a nearby dam. It took me a little more than 4-hours to make the trip.  Tired and exhausted, it was awesome. It also helped set the stage for more than a few workouts this year – up and down the stairs, along the trails came to be known as the “Pain Cave” in my strange little circle of compatriots.

I began with a goal of 50 Obstacle Course races by age 50 – something I may still strive toward, as that’s my real passion and interest – but my short list of a handful of races, eventually became a goal of 46 races for my 46 years.  I honestly had no idea how low I had set my target and why would I?

On February 13, I ran the first race of the year; a 5k in 17-degree weather.  A couple of weeks later, I jumped into a pool of ice water to raise money for a kids’ camp.

It wasn’t until May that I dared try anything longer than a 5k – although the day before I ran 2 5k races – and it was kind of important that I do that because somewhere along the line I had joined a Ragnar Relay team and I had never run more than a 5k at one time.  I guessed at a 10k pace time for Ragnar, and tried to match it a couple of weeks before hand.  I did well enough – not great, but well enough – that I agreed to take on a longer set of legs for the relay, and I’m glad I did.

328 racing miles on the year.  I did so much more than I ever could have imagined.  Ragnar.  Ragnar Trail. Killington Spartan Beast.  A half-marathon.  11-races in July.  An overnight marathon relay so far into the New Hampshire darkness I saw the International Space Station traverse the sky.  I met some really cool folks.  I made stronger connections with old friends.  I ran 4 races with my daughter.  I either lost 20 pounds and gained 5 or lost 15 – I prefer to think of it as having lost 15.

Completed the #22Kill Challenge, did “The Murph,” a round of T25 and of “Insanity.” Lots of stuff going on for a pudgy, middle aged guy.

Interestingly enough, that icewater fundraiser I mentioned earlier, set the stage for another key aspect of the year for me: we gave more to charity this year than we ever have, and over a wide breadth of causes.  We had international guests for 2-months this summer; what an amazing experience. We welcomed yet another dog into our home – but this time we swear, no more.

So, 2016 didn’t see us get suddenly wealthy or even progressively so.  BUT it sees us through together, healthy.  Our bills are paid.  My daughter has completed her college studies a semester early and will be going to Europe for a couple of months in celebration.

Before complaining about how crummy 2016 was to you, maybe take some time and think about all the ways 2016 was pretty good to you.  365.25 days can’t all be bad.  I can’t wait to see what 2017 has waiting; I’m ready to go.  Happy New Year my friends.

Some Stats:

9 Pairs of sneakers

  1. Reebok (3)
  2. New Balance (3)
  3. North Face (1)
  4. Asics (1)
  5. Saucony (1)

66 Races (9 Obstacle Courses)
64:33:24 Hours:Minutes:Seconds Racing
Raced in 5 States (MA, NH, CT, RI, VT); Ran in  9 (NY, NJ, NC, FL)

 

2016: Celebrity Serial Killer

2016 has been a wild ride.  It seems like every day there’s news of yet another celebrity death. Every time I see someone who shares my age, mortality becomes just a little more real to me.

I read a list of celebrity deaths for the year – as of today, there were 91 listed on the Legacy.com list and it hadn’t yet been updated to include the passing of Carrie Fisher.

I was struck, though, by who was on the list. A lot of folks whom I’d heard of in passing or in reference, but really knew little about.  There was the 1950’s television actress who portrayed Lois Lane, Noel Neill; Sonny Corleone’s wife, Julie Gregg; actor Michael Massee – whose most notable role still eludes me.  A lot of people who may have been famous or celebrities at some point, but really hard to argue that they are (were) currently.  More to the point, I’m pretty sure (which is my disclaimer that I have no evidence to back this up) there are more people alive today that could be considered “celebrity” or “famous” than at any other point in our history by the standards that would have Noel Neill occupying a spot on a list of “celebrities.”  Consider that for a moment.

No wonder it seems like there’s a celebrity passing everyday – there’s just so damn many of them.  With the proliferation of so much media, it becomes possible for everyone to have their 15-minutes of fame.

Consider  Christina  Grimmie, a young singer who had performed on “The Voice” and whom made a bit of a name for herself on YouTube before that.  She died in a shooting attack in June.  Talented to be sure, but a talent discovered through the wonders of the internet, accessible and high quality digital recording devices. It makes one wonder if everyone who has appeared on “The Voice” could be considered a “celebrity?”

For that matter, is this “celebritifiction” is the consequence of a proliferation of media channels (YouTube, SnapChat, Twitter, The Voice…) or of the media’s belief that we just can’t get enough news so we get it 24-hours a day?  On our phones, televisions, everywhere.  You need 24-hours of news to broadcast if you’re going to broadcast 24-hours a day, so we create it.  We create celebrities because we need SOMETHING to fill 24-hours of news.   TMZ is a media company based entirely on the business of creating celebrity, then reporting on celebrity.

You’d think we’d hit a saturation point with ‘celebrities’ – how many people can you possibly “know,” but yet the plate keeps getting bigger and more names keep getting piled on it.

To be sure, this year has seen bona fide celebrities pass on: Muhammad Ali, Prince, Gordie Howe, David Bowie, Carrie Fisher.  It doesn’t follow, though, that every athlete or singer or actor has a presence that could be considered “celebrity.”   Prince was a singer and famous and was a celebrity, so therefore Christina Grimmie is a celebrity too?

I think we need higher standards of what “celebrity” means.  Anytime a 22-year old is killed it is a tragedy, and perhaps even notable, but it’s really hard for me to consider Grimmie a celebrity when George Michael – who also recently passed – had sold millions of records by the time he was 22.  Just totally different stratospheres.

As I was reading through lists of names, I had to remind myself that there was a person behind each one of them.  No more, no less valuable than any other.  It’s just that they touch different numbers of people.  It’s like the difference between local news and national news: what’s important in one localized area may not be in a larger area.  The car crash along the Jamaica Way in Jamaica Plain is worthy of some note in the Boston media, but chances are Matt Lauer wouldn’t find it interesting.  There’s a place for some additional attention for folks within the public eye, but it just seems we tend to overstate.

I appreciate the Wikipedia approach: “Notable” deaths as opposed to “Celebrity.”  Notable is a more appropriate place to conflate a list containing Muhammad Ali, Vera Rubin, and  Antonin Scalia with one containing Jacky Lee, Tobias de Boer, and Sarah Grant.  Christina Grimmie more appropriately belongs with those considered “Notable” than those considered “Celebrity.”

And so it is then, we allow ourselves the somewhat guilty pleasure of deciding there’s been a rash of celebrity passings this year, by virtue of changing the definition of “celebrity.”

To The American People

“To the American People: Christmas is not a time or a season but a state of mind. To cherish peace and good will, to be plenteous in mercy, is to have the real spirit of Christmas. If we think on these things, there will be born in us a Savior and over us will shine a star sending its gleam of hope to the world. ”

Calvin Coolidge, Presidential message, December 25, 1927