Charlie is absolutely, quite totally, obsessed with his human sister, Lily.
In
the morning he will sit outside her bedroom door and wait for us to
open it when she wakes. Once in the room, he jumps up to her crib,
carefully pressing his cold nose between the bars so that he can get a
glimpse of her.
He gets away with much more at mealtime
now, pacing below Lily's chair waiting for food to drop his way. He
often licks her slimy hands clean.
Lily
loves her puppy brother in return. In the mornings when Charlie comes
into her room, she looks for him as she hears the tap tap tap of his
paws and nails hitting the wood floor. Once she is able to spot him
through the bars of her crib, she waves and tries to say his name. It
basically comes out as gibberish sounds: aaahhhieeee.
Lily
constantly watches Charlie pace below her at mealtime. She antagonizes
him by leaning over and drooping one hand down to his level so that he
can lick her dirty hands. Once in a while, though, she will also dangle a
piece of food in the process despite us telling her and Charlie, "No,
no!"
Charlie and Lily love each other. Yet, like all siblings, they regularly irritate one another. This love-irritation can coincide at the same moment. Lily scoots along to wherever Charlie leads her. She tries to grab his hair and pull his tail. When she reaches out to him, he proceeds to incessantly kiss her, licking all over her little face. Her only recourse is to hold up her hands in protest, but he is much too wise for that deflection to stop him. He will finally get the point to stop when Lily lets out her high-pitched-throaty-grunt. Yet when he stops licking, she smiles, and goes after him for more.
It's sibling love at it's finest.
Monday, March 23, 2015
Thursday, March 19, 2015
Random Racing Ruminations: Week 7, The unexpected around the curve
Before I left work today I went for a four-mile run around the lake. The trail is a moderately challenging one, with multiple inclines and declines. And many twists and turns.This run had me dwelling on the unexpected around the curve.
The Mallard Duck sitting brightly, standing out from the brown background.
The kite soaring high above the trees, appearing detached from a person on the ground holding the line.
The rustling in the underbrush, making me jump, unable to see what animal caused it.
The other runners, appearing to be moving much faster than me.
But this blog post and my running thoughts were most focused on the unexpected parts of my day. There is much about my work that I can't plan or predict. Obviously I prepare each day and week for what I will prioritize and accomplish. Often, though, my work is dictated by the next person to walk into my office, call my phone, or send me an e-mail. I walk in each day predicting my plan A, B, and C. I learned this early on when I was a high school teacher. Good teachers have a plan for each period they will teach. Great teachers have at least one back up plan just in case something doesn't pan out as anticipated (and that is a regularity with teenagers). Excellent teachers not only have their backup plan, but they are also able to anticipate and read others, being finely attuned to what is happening, and harness the momentum of others incorporating it into the overall good of the plan. Or maybe they just abandon all plans and wing it.
Every corner approaching on the horizon today was a test, pulling me away from my plan. I did my best to hold my composure, anticipate what was ahead, and be as productive in the process. I may have failed miserably, losing my composure.
A solid run around the lake today was exactly what I needed. The blisters on my feet, bigger than ever, are indicative of unpredictable challenges, seemingly metaphors for what I really want to say.
WEEK 7
Thursday
(4 miles)
(4 miles)
Temperature 53
Mile 1 = 8:14
Mile 2 = 8:12
Mile 3 = 8:29
Mile 4 = 8:16
Tuesday, March 17, 2015
Random Racing Rumination: Week 7, Sacrifice can lead to great feelings
I'm not trying to be a hero. I don't care much about my pace when running or my final time when completing a race. I'm training for the Lincoln Half-Marathon because it is a personal challenge--a mental and physical one. I just want to finish the face and feel good at the end of it. I want to run this race the healthy way.
These were the ruminations in my mind as I was running today. I was thinking about how far I have come. My average pace was 8:38 per mile. When I started running again, my average pace was closer to ten minutes per mile. It's amazing that my pace changed in a short amount of time.
But it was far from easy.
It took steady determination and dedication. It took an early focus on short two to three mile runs. It took a concerted training plan, well-thought-out, researched, and put in my calendar forcing me to stick to a schedule.
It took overcoming my body adjusting to what I was asking it to do: achilles and other foot pain, stretching and strengthening muscles, controlling breathing, dealing with blistering feet, and getting healthy after being sick.
There were (and still are) many reasons to stop. Give up.
This takes sacrifice. Giving up time. Prioritizing. An example was today: I packing my running gear with a plan of running during lunch at work. But then meetings got scheduled. I got interrupted. I pushed my lunch run back to an early afternoon run. Then I convinced myself not to do it. I procrastinated and decided to run when I got home, before I ate dinner. Then there was an accident on the Interstate driving home and I got home late. I was demoralized that my plan was once again changed. And I almost talked myself out of running. But I forced myself to go.
I pushed myself to fight through picking up my pace. I did well until mile four when I had a half mile hill that made me loose control of breathing. I wanted to walk. I thought about walking often. I kept pushing. And after the hill, I was exhilarated, and my breathing fell in line, and I returned to my record pace again.
I'm not trying to be a hero. This is for me. It's a little selfish. I think many runners would agree that running is a selfish act for them also. It's the drive to succeed. It's the determination to overcome sacrifice.
The more I ruminated about sacrifice while running today, the more clarity I had: the sacrifices, no matter how large or small, are a part of our lives. We decide daily where we will and will not sacrifice.
So here's where these thoughts on decisions and sacrifices end tonight. Michelle now has to commute further to work. We have more shared sacrifice on dropping off and picking up Lily from daycare. We both negotiate our careers and parenting, trying to be good at both. We would love for one of us to not have to work so we could stay home with our daughter. But we're not that fortunate. Could we sacrifice more to make that happen? Absolutely. However we've found the most caring, nurturing person to watch our daughter when we are at work. Lily loves this person and we've never felt any angst, guilt, or regret for taking her there. Is it still hard? Yes, oftentimes. But just like running, you push through it. You have a goal. You stick to your plan. You persist. You negotiate and make life work with what you have. Because when you pull up to the house to pick up Lily from daycare, and you see her looking out the window waiting for you, that is one great feeling.
WEEK 7
Mile 5 = 8:23
These were the ruminations in my mind as I was running today. I was thinking about how far I have come. My average pace was 8:38 per mile. When I started running again, my average pace was closer to ten minutes per mile. It's amazing that my pace changed in a short amount of time.
But it was far from easy.
It took steady determination and dedication. It took an early focus on short two to three mile runs. It took a concerted training plan, well-thought-out, researched, and put in my calendar forcing me to stick to a schedule.
It took overcoming my body adjusting to what I was asking it to do: achilles and other foot pain, stretching and strengthening muscles, controlling breathing, dealing with blistering feet, and getting healthy after being sick.
There were (and still are) many reasons to stop. Give up.
This takes sacrifice. Giving up time. Prioritizing. An example was today: I packing my running gear with a plan of running during lunch at work. But then meetings got scheduled. I got interrupted. I pushed my lunch run back to an early afternoon run. Then I convinced myself not to do it. I procrastinated and decided to run when I got home, before I ate dinner. Then there was an accident on the Interstate driving home and I got home late. I was demoralized that my plan was once again changed. And I almost talked myself out of running. But I forced myself to go.
I pushed myself to fight through picking up my pace. I did well until mile four when I had a half mile hill that made me loose control of breathing. I wanted to walk. I thought about walking often. I kept pushing. And after the hill, I was exhilarated, and my breathing fell in line, and I returned to my record pace again.
I'm not trying to be a hero. This is for me. It's a little selfish. I think many runners would agree that running is a selfish act for them also. It's the drive to succeed. It's the determination to overcome sacrifice.
The more I ruminated about sacrifice while running today, the more clarity I had: the sacrifices, no matter how large or small, are a part of our lives. We decide daily where we will and will not sacrifice.
So here's where these thoughts on decisions and sacrifices end tonight. Michelle now has to commute further to work. We have more shared sacrifice on dropping off and picking up Lily from daycare. We both negotiate our careers and parenting, trying to be good at both. We would love for one of us to not have to work so we could stay home with our daughter. But we're not that fortunate. Could we sacrifice more to make that happen? Absolutely. However we've found the most caring, nurturing person to watch our daughter when we are at work. Lily loves this person and we've never felt any angst, guilt, or regret for taking her there. Is it still hard? Yes, oftentimes. But just like running, you push through it. You have a goal. You stick to your plan. You persist. You negotiate and make life work with what you have. Because when you pull up to the house to pick up Lily from daycare, and you see her looking out the window waiting for you, that is one great feeling.
WEEK 7
Tuesday
(5 miles)
(5 miles)
Temperature 52
Mile 1 = 8:20
Mile 2 = 8:43
Mile 3 = 8:27
Mile 4 = 9:05Mile 5 = 8:23
Sunday, March 15, 2015
Random Racing Ruminations, Week 8: Going for distance
WEEK 8
Thursday
(4 miles)
(4 miles)
Temperature 61
Mile 1 = 9:01
Mile 2 = 8:33
Mile 3 = 8:54
Mile 4 = 8:53Thursday night I stepped out in the dark of night again. I was tired and had zero energy for running but I forced myself to do it anyway. I'm glad I did because the run felt great and my pace was decent compared to the over nine-minute miles that have been typical. I needed to feel good on this run because the week was a rough one, un-fulfilling with many moments of frustration.
Saturday
(9 miles)
(9 miles)
Temperature 68
Mile 1 = 9:15
Mile 2 = 9:18
Mile 3 = 9:12
Mile 4 = 9:02Mile 5 = 8:48
Mile 6 = 8:32
Mile 7 = 9:04
Mile 8 = 8:52
Mile 9 = 9:01
Saturday was the longest run since I started running again. Nine miles initially seemed a bit daunting when thinking about it, however, it was quite manageable. I decided to scope out a section of the Omaha Riverfront trail. I parked near Omaha Eppley Airfield, knowing that this section of the trail was not glamorous. I quickly discovered that the view was, in fact, much to be desired. The portion of the trail I was on wound through mostly industrial areas. The sights were dismal and the pungent smells pushed me along. I had a view of the Missouri River for a great deal of the run, but for those of you who have seen the Missouri before you know that it is not a pretty river.
After mile six, the trail slightly redeemed itself. As I approached a light pole looming over a street, I saw a red-tailed Hawk perched up on it. My plan was to stop and take a picture of the stunning beast, but it immediately spread it's graceful wings and took flight before I could get within distance. I watched it just glide across the extremely dry, brown ground caused by winter. I was also able to watch multiple airplanes lift off the the runway of the airport and quickly ascend into the sky.
I did manage to take a couple of pictures to document this running feat, the first one was standing under Interstate 680. The second picture was at the beginning of mile 9, on the way back to my car, when I was able to see the downtown Omaha skyline far in the distance, reminding me how far I had come. And at that precise moment my phone died, erasing the record of my run on my phone. I'm almost certain the run was longer than nine miles, because when I turned around to head back I was already at five miles.
When I returned home and took my shoes off I discovered blisters forming on both of my feet, markers solidifying how far I'd come.Sunday
(2 miles)
Temperature 75
Mile 1 = 7:56
Mile 2 = 8:23
Sunday I went for a quick tempo run. I'm sure this was a poor choice with the blisters on my feet but I've become even more determined to push through the challenges. It makes me feel better.
The best days this week were the days I ran. And the two best days were the weekend, spending time with Michelle and Lily just doing ordinary things. I look forward to the weekends (and running) now more than ever.
Lily turned ten-months old and I devoted my tempo run to her.
Tuesday, March 10, 2015
Random Racing Ruminations, Week 8: Nocturnal
WEEK 8
Tuesday
(5 miles)
(5 miles)
Temperature 62
Mile 1 = 8:45
Mile 2 = 8:49
Mile 3 = 8:41
Mile 4 = 9:02Mile 5 = 9:00
Here is the daily battle taking hold of my thoughts and actions: where do I compromise and where do I give in?
This has been the theme for this entire re-dedication to running in my life. I want to make time to train the right way. But I'm competing not just for race day, but also for a fulfilling life. The challenge has been compounded by my need to take care of the people and organization where I work. There is much to do; I've been overly dedicated with my time and the projects I've undertaken. I'm not complaining because my focus at my job is my conscious, deliberate choice. It's my career development and reputation. The faith I have is that the investments I'm putting in now will pay me back in other rewarding endeavors.
Then the guilt sets in. Life is too short to miss moments with my daughter, Lily, growing up. I don't ever want to look back at where I am today and regret my lack of commitment to her and my wife.
And then I will run.
I logged a five mile nocturnal run after staying late at work, eating dinner, and putting Lily to bed. I was one of two (yes, someone else was out in the shadows) crazy souls dedicated through the darkness. My mind was focused on not giving up. Powering through. Keeping up and improving my pace. Centering on the positive. Blocking the negative. Offering up the battle for others. I can honestly say I feel better with each run. My times and distances seem to indicate progress.
Tonight's racing ruminations will lack cohesion since I'm writing this post at 11:37 p.m. It's past my bedtime. Then the battle will begin anew, another day.
Sunday, March 8, 2015
Random Racing Ruminations: Week 9, Inspiration
There are nine more weeks until the Lincoln Half Marathon. My runs scheduled for Tuesday and Thursday didn't happen. Extra long hours put in at work have zapped every last amount of energy. While I abandoned my plans for runs on both days, I was determined to accomplish my long run Saturday. The bright sun and mild temperatures were the motivation fueling my excitement to hit the sidewalks of Omaha.
My route was through my favorite parts of Omaha, areas that have rich history yet have also accomplished significant change or are slated for updates and improvements. It was great to be off the treadmill and back outdoors again. My running thoughts were about how great the city is on foot.
I began with a loop around Hanscom Park. I had a great view of people and their dogs at the dog park, youth at the playground, and the thawing pond. I steadily made my way through the well-established historic Hanscom Park, Field Club, and Gold Coast neighborhoods. I cruised the edge of the University of Nebraska Medical Center. As cars rushed down Farnam Street, I plodded the sidewalks of The Blackstone District where, the night before, Michelle and I had dinner at Mula to celebrate my birthday.
My decent but almost slow pace was halted during mile five by a sidewalk closed for construction and I was unable to safely cross traffic. Once I made my way to the other side of Farnam Street I was quickly at Midtown Crossing and made my loop around Turner Park.
Omaha on foot is an inspiration. There was nothing bland about the sights on my run, except the yet to turn green trees, shrubs, and grass. I was inspired by both the surroundings and the process I've made over many weeks. The human body is amazing at adapting and building up endurance through slow and steady determination. Even though I have been unable to stick to the entirety of the training plan I had set out, I've come a long way from three mile runs and uncontrollable breathing. The end of eight miles felt good. That feeling has me even more inspired for the longer runs scheduled in my calendar and the ultimate goal, the Lincoln Half-Marathon.
WEEK 9
Mile 5 = 10:38
Mile 6 = 9:14
Mile 7 = 9:47
Mile 8 = 9:28
My route was through my favorite parts of Omaha, areas that have rich history yet have also accomplished significant change or are slated for updates and improvements. It was great to be off the treadmill and back outdoors again. My running thoughts were about how great the city is on foot.
I began with a loop around Hanscom Park. I had a great view of people and their dogs at the dog park, youth at the playground, and the thawing pond. I steadily made my way through the well-established historic Hanscom Park, Field Club, and Gold Coast neighborhoods. I cruised the edge of the University of Nebraska Medical Center. As cars rushed down Farnam Street, I plodded the sidewalks of The Blackstone District where, the night before, Michelle and I had dinner at Mula to celebrate my birthday.
My decent but almost slow pace was halted during mile five by a sidewalk closed for construction and I was unable to safely cross traffic. Once I made my way to the other side of Farnam Street I was quickly at Midtown Crossing and made my loop around Turner Park.
Omaha on foot is an inspiration. There was nothing bland about the sights on my run, except the yet to turn green trees, shrubs, and grass. I was inspired by both the surroundings and the process I've made over many weeks. The human body is amazing at adapting and building up endurance through slow and steady determination. Even though I have been unable to stick to the entirety of the training plan I had set out, I've come a long way from three mile runs and uncontrollable breathing. The end of eight miles felt good. That feeling has me even more inspired for the longer runs scheduled in my calendar and the ultimate goal, the Lincoln Half-Marathon.
WEEK 9
Saturday
(8 miles)
(8 miles)
Temperature 58
Mile 1 = 9:10
Mile 2 = 9:41
Mile 3 = 9:43
Mile 4 = 9:50Mile 5 = 10:38
Mile 6 = 9:14
Mile 7 = 9:47
Mile 8 = 9:28
Monday, March 2, 2015
Corn cob trays bring on years of age
It's that time of year again: my birthday. I've blogged about age in the past. Once last year, several months after my birthday, I wrote a post titled The years of age. At the time I was inspired by the beautiful weather and the delicious beer in my hand. I was thinking about my health status and how time was slowly starting to change me. Two days later, Lily was born.
If I hadn't changed before then, I've definitely changed now. Back in 2013 I blogged the day after my birthday, in a post titled Achieved another year, reflecting upon birthday cliches and traditions. That was when I didn't feel any older.
This year I feel older. Maybe it is fatherhood and all the responsibilities associated with it. I'm certain that's part of it. But I can pinpoint exactly where the feeling originates. It's the joy I get from seeing Lily progress and incrementally change. I'm sure this feeling of joy is relateable for all parents as they watch their children grow and develop.
It's like last week when I was making dinner in the kitchen and Lily was playing on the floor. She had her favorite toys that always keep her occupied. This particular evening she wanted nothing to do with those toys. She had, only a week earlier, perfected the art of quick momentum from one thing that peaked her interest to the other. Now she was interested in one of the bottom kitchen cabinet drawers, happily grabbing the knob, troubleshooting how to pull it. Determinedly, she was able to inch it open, dip her tiny hands inside, and wiggle out the corn cob trays. Those trays were her new fascination as she tossed them around the kitchen floor.
The corn cob tray moments bring me more joy than I can describe. The corn cob tray moments are the happiest moments I've had in a very long time. Yet the corn cob tray moments are the realization that time is passing by so very quickly. These corn cob tray moments are the moments I've pinpointed that make me feel older.
In seeing each variation in Lily's development, I see myself older and changing along with her. She is the catalyst transforming me. Basically fatherhood has made me soft and mushy. It's flipped my world in ways unimaginable. This all makes me feel age like I've never felt it before. So to celebrate these new found feelings, I'm documenting these reflective thoughts with a birthday blog post and a birthday beer. Cheers to more years of age.
Sunday, March 1, 2015
Random racing ruminations: Week 10, Why we must do what we dislike
There are ten more weeks until the Lincoln Half-Marathon and I'm trying to get back at this running schedule again. Since I've missed multiple runs, I'm playing catch-up to increase my distance. The achilles pain is gone (probably due to the fact that I haven't been running) and my new running shoes feel fantastic. Work has consumed my every waking moment when I'm not on dad duty. I go in to the office early, stay late, and log in at home from my laptop. The frequent disruptions to my training plan are a broken record, representing the chaos that is my life. I'm determined to do whatever it takes to get back on track, even though I would rather be a sloth sleeping on the couch.Tuesday night I got on the treadmill in our basement and put in 5.2 miles. Then Saturday I was able to put in another 6 mile run. Doing that kind of distance on a treadmill makes you want to be brain dead. It's painfully boring. But I did it. I'm ready for warmer weather and clear sidewalks because I can't stand running indoors.
Here is my confession: I don't like running. I understand that may not make sense, especially if you are a runner.
Why engage in activities we don't like? I propose we do this all the time. For example when we have to do laundry or clean the house. Maybe it is school or studying subjects that frankly are uninteresting or un-engaging for us. Sometimes it is our job or careers. Or there are those people who avoid anything they don't like. They refuse to engage and become lethargic because they are unwilling to persist through what they consider undesirable. I posit that the avoidance of an activity merely due to the fact we dislike it is unhealthy. By doing what we deem "unfun" we gain appreciation for the other feelings, experiences, and after-effects connected to having engaged in the unpleasant. We attempt the undesirable because those activities, while not inherently exciting in their own right, lead to other forms of good accomplished by doing. 
That is why I run. I like the challenge. I like being outdoors. I appreciate the challenge and grit required. I feel great afterwards. The exercise is a stress relief and keeps my mind sharp. Great ideas present themselves when I'm running. Oftentimes I offer up my runs as a form of prayer for whomever or whatever is on my mind. Running makes me feel accomplished and purposeful. Those are the many reasons why I run.
After I run, I have much more appreciation for other enjoyable experiences: relaxing with a book, hanging out with Charlie, playing with Lily, drinking a delicious beer, or being a sloth relaxing on the couch.
Saturday, February 14, 2015
Random racing ruminations: Week 12, Viewing the unfavorable favorably
After getting back out on the sidewalks last weekend, this week turned into another string of days without running.
Tuesday I had a five mile run planned. It didn't happen. I put in a long work day and equally long night working.
Wednesday I finally got the chest cold people have been sharing with each other the last month.
Thursday I had another five mile run planned. I woke up in the morning with a horrible cough and sore throat. Then I topped it off with another extended day at work.
This weekend I will not be running either. I considered the "neck" test of running or resting: any illness above the neck like stuffiness and runny nose it is generally safe to still run, but any illness below the neck like chest cough, tightness, or body aches mean it is better not to run. Essentially I'm sidelined again.
I'm frustrated. Frustration has been the theme for the week, in my running life, work life, and generally in life feeling that I'm not accomplishing much. Often, a little perspective hits you right when you need it and that happened for me Wednesday. My barber, who has been cutting my hair for over six months, was just finishing my haircut when he asked, "How did you get that scar back there?" I explained to him that the scar he saw at the top of my neck is just the beginning of a long, disfigured line of disfigured tissue that runs entirely down my neck, traveling the length of my spine, ending half-way down my back.
Typically I don't think about that scar much these days. It is me. I've become accustomed to the neck and back stiffness and pain. It's significance hasn't carried much weight in my thoughts lately. But as I recounted my car accident and the extended healing and surgeries afterwards to my barber, he shared his life or death car accident experience. In that moment, my perspective shifted back to many years ago when life took on a different meaning. Coincidentally yesterday was the anniversary of that monumental event.
So I should be grateful. I only have a chest cold. I shouldn't be frustrated that I haven't run this week, because soon I'll be out running again. I'm reminded there is much in life I must view favorably, even when my feelings are less than favorable.
Tuesday I had a five mile run planned. It didn't happen. I put in a long work day and equally long night working.
Wednesday I finally got the chest cold people have been sharing with each other the last month.
Thursday I had another five mile run planned. I woke up in the morning with a horrible cough and sore throat. Then I topped it off with another extended day at work.
This weekend I will not be running either. I considered the "neck" test of running or resting: any illness above the neck like stuffiness and runny nose it is generally safe to still run, but any illness below the neck like chest cough, tightness, or body aches mean it is better not to run. Essentially I'm sidelined again.
I'm frustrated. Frustration has been the theme for the week, in my running life, work life, and generally in life feeling that I'm not accomplishing much. Often, a little perspective hits you right when you need it and that happened for me Wednesday. My barber, who has been cutting my hair for over six months, was just finishing my haircut when he asked, "How did you get that scar back there?" I explained to him that the scar he saw at the top of my neck is just the beginning of a long, disfigured line of disfigured tissue that runs entirely down my neck, traveling the length of my spine, ending half-way down my back.
Typically I don't think about that scar much these days. It is me. I've become accustomed to the neck and back stiffness and pain. It's significance hasn't carried much weight in my thoughts lately. But as I recounted my car accident and the extended healing and surgeries afterwards to my barber, he shared his life or death car accident experience. In that moment, my perspective shifted back to many years ago when life took on a different meaning. Coincidentally yesterday was the anniversary of that monumental event.
So I should be grateful. I only have a chest cold. I shouldn't be frustrated that I haven't run this week, because soon I'll be out running again. I'm reminded there is much in life I must view favorably, even when my feelings are less than favorable.
Sunday, February 8, 2015
Random racing ruminations: Week 13, Gains
WEEK 13
Saturday
(5.65 miles)
(5.65 miles)
Temperature 56
Mile 1 = 9:07
Mile 2 = 9:03
Mile 3 = 8:49
Mile 4 = 8:44
Mile 5 = 8:53
My break from running has lasted too long. My achilles feels better and much of the snow and ice has cleared from the trails and sidewalks. Saturday brought a beautiful 56 degree day. It felt great to be outside running again. The almost week-long rest must have been good for my body because my time improved. The only challenge was an annoying one: some sidewalks were not entirely cleared of snow. Instead of taking the extra time to remove snow from the entire area, some people only removed a little path. Or, there were piles in the middle of the sidewalk. Or, snow was trampled down and compacted instead of cleared away.
Approaching these areas required me to stop running so I wouldn't slip or fall. Additionally, I had to strategically and carefully place my feet in places as to not get my shoes and feet wet. Unfortunately, the remaining snow was essentially wet slush. Only half a mile into the run, my right foot got soaked. I felt the cool water douse my sock. Running with a wet foot is terrible. Towards the end of my run, I couldn't put up with the rubbing anymore and stopped shy of 6 miles because I could feel the blisters forming.
Sunday I went for a three mile interval run. At the beginning I was pushing for a faster pace than normal. However, just like on Saturday, some of the uncleared sidewalks got the best of me, especially at the end, forcing me to walk. This was tragic and disappointing because I was hoping for a fast run to celebrate.
Overall, I can't be too frustrated with these two runs. I'm making gains, even if they are somewhat miniscule. I'm hoping every week's slight gain will compound as I press on. This weekend my thoughts focused on humble, small-scale progress.
Lily is my inspiration. I see her develop slightly different traits each day. Her gains are barely noticeable, but nonetheless significant.
This weekend Lily's crawling finally cultivated distance. She started in the living room and then slowly but determinedly made her way after Charlie, her canine brother. He was walking back and forth to the front door. The sun was brightly shining through the glass. He was taking in rays and keeping track of life in the neighborhood. Lily wanted to be part of the action. She shouted, squealed, and grunted her way, inching along, out of the living room, and then after Charlie, toward the front door.
As the training weeks for the Lincoln Half Marathon pass from one to the next, time seems to be the sole variable fighting both for and against me. I'm fighting, too, through the difficulty and challenges whatever they may be. If Lily can persist through the challenges of learning to crawl, I can keep on running.
Mile 5 = 8:53
Sunday
(2.94 miles)
(2.94 miles)
Temperature 52
Mile 1 = 8:06
Mile 2 = 8:26
Mile 2.93 = 9:32
Approaching these areas required me to stop running so I wouldn't slip or fall. Additionally, I had to strategically and carefully place my feet in places as to not get my shoes and feet wet. Unfortunately, the remaining snow was essentially wet slush. Only half a mile into the run, my right foot got soaked. I felt the cool water douse my sock. Running with a wet foot is terrible. Towards the end of my run, I couldn't put up with the rubbing anymore and stopped shy of 6 miles because I could feel the blisters forming.
Sunday I went for a three mile interval run. At the beginning I was pushing for a faster pace than normal. However, just like on Saturday, some of the uncleared sidewalks got the best of me, especially at the end, forcing me to walk. This was tragic and disappointing because I was hoping for a fast run to celebrate.
Overall, I can't be too frustrated with these two runs. I'm making gains, even if they are somewhat miniscule. I'm hoping every week's slight gain will compound as I press on. This weekend my thoughts focused on humble, small-scale progress.
Lily is my inspiration. I see her develop slightly different traits each day. Her gains are barely noticeable, but nonetheless significant.
This weekend Lily's crawling finally cultivated distance. She started in the living room and then slowly but determinedly made her way after Charlie, her canine brother. He was walking back and forth to the front door. The sun was brightly shining through the glass. He was taking in rays and keeping track of life in the neighborhood. Lily wanted to be part of the action. She shouted, squealed, and grunted her way, inching along, out of the living room, and then after Charlie, toward the front door.
As the training weeks for the Lincoln Half Marathon pass from one to the next, time seems to be the sole variable fighting both for and against me. I'm fighting, too, through the difficulty and challenges whatever they may be. If Lily can persist through the challenges of learning to crawl, I can keep on running.
Thursday, February 5, 2015
Random racing ruminations: Week 14 and 13, Interruptions
Saturday (6.0 mile run)
Temperature 36 degrees
Mile 1 = 9:07
Mile 2 = 9:29
Mile 3 = 9:36
Mile 4 = 9:16
Mile 5 = 10:38
Mile 6 = 11:16
It's been a while since I've written about my training and this blog post contains all the reasons why.Mile 5 = 10:38
Mile 6 = 11:16
Last week was my third week of training for the Lincoln Half-Marathon and it threw me for a surprise injury. My achilles tendons on both my left and right feet began to cause stiffness and pain. I immediately turned to some quick internet searches and quickly discovered achilles pain wasn't something to take lightly. While my issue was probably not serious, everything I read online pointed to a variety of possible reasons:
Probably the best thing I did was take a trip to Peak Performance here in Omaha.This place is absolutely awesome for runners. I've never been there before and I was immediately impressed. I knew I needed a better, quality running shoe. The moment I walked in the door, I was happily greeted in under a minute by one of the employees. She asked what I was looking for and then stayed with me the entire time of the transaction. I described my problem with achilles pain. I explained I was training for the Lincoln Half-Marathon. She measured my feet and looked at my arch. She watched my gait walking around the track inside the store. Based on my walk and pronation, she directed my attention towards a certain set of shoes and happily grabbed four different kinds for me to try on. Then she analyzed how the shoes fit my stride, sharing with me the positives and negative of each pair.
Determined to get back in the routine of running after four days of rest, I put on my new shoes Saturday morning and hit the trail before the serious snow began for the day. The air was dreary and damp but it felt good to be out at 8:00a.m. The light drizzle was the only real challenge since my feet felt great and were adequately protected. I was happy with my fairly basic time each mile, but then at mile five a hill got the best of my breathing and I gave in and stopped for a short walk. Once I was able to recover my breathing I picked up my pace again until I hit another massive hill, not even giving it much effort this time around. I walked again. The six miles is the longest I've gone thus far, and also the first time I've walked this much on a run.
The Saturday run was equally thrilling and disappointing. What was injured most this week was my pride. I'm disappointed my training took a hit this early in the process. But I was ready and determined to get back out there and be persistent through the challenges of it all.
Snow came Saturday evening and Sunday. Then more snow fell early during week four of my training, halting any opportunity for activity outdoors. My running canvas now coated in a white blanket, called out for a change to running indoors for a while. We have a treadmill in our basement, unassembled, in a box. My plan to put it together and test it out was interrupted by travel for business. Once I get the treadmill up and running, I'll be up and running again.
- My activity increased too quickly after being sedentary
- I was running too many hills
- My workouts were maybe too intense
- I wasn't lifting, cross-training, or building other leg muscles which put stress on the tendon
- I'm over 30 years old, a common injury for people my age
- I needed better shoes
Probably the best thing I did was take a trip to Peak Performance here in Omaha.This place is absolutely awesome for runners. I've never been there before and I was immediately impressed. I knew I needed a better, quality running shoe. The moment I walked in the door, I was happily greeted in under a minute by one of the employees. She asked what I was looking for and then stayed with me the entire time of the transaction. I described my problem with achilles pain. I explained I was training for the Lincoln Half-Marathon. She measured my feet and looked at my arch. She watched my gait walking around the track inside the store. Based on my walk and pronation, she directed my attention towards a certain set of shoes and happily grabbed four different kinds for me to try on. Then she analyzed how the shoes fit my stride, sharing with me the positives and negative of each pair.
Determined to get back in the routine of running after four days of rest, I put on my new shoes Saturday morning and hit the trail before the serious snow began for the day. The air was dreary and damp but it felt good to be out at 8:00a.m. The light drizzle was the only real challenge since my feet felt great and were adequately protected. I was happy with my fairly basic time each mile, but then at mile five a hill got the best of my breathing and I gave in and stopped for a short walk. Once I was able to recover my breathing I picked up my pace again until I hit another massive hill, not even giving it much effort this time around. I walked again. The six miles is the longest I've gone thus far, and also the first time I've walked this much on a run.
The Saturday run was equally thrilling and disappointing. What was injured most this week was my pride. I'm disappointed my training took a hit this early in the process. But I was ready and determined to get back out there and be persistent through the challenges of it all.
Snow came Saturday evening and Sunday. Then more snow fell early during week four of my training, halting any opportunity for activity outdoors. My running canvas now coated in a white blanket, called out for a change to running indoors for a while. We have a treadmill in our basement, unassembled, in a box. My plan to put it together and test it out was interrupted by travel for business. Once I get the treadmill up and running, I'll be up and running again.
Tuesday, January 27, 2015
Random racing ruminations: Week 14, Solitude
WEEK 14
(4.0 mile run)
Temperature 50 degrees
Mile 1 = 9:58
Mile 2 = 9:48
Mile 3 = 9:07
Mile 4 = 8:56
Today's run officially kicked off my third week of training for the Lincoln Half-Marathon. As I was packing my running gear before I left for work this morning, I had the vaguest feeling that I was forgetting something important. The notion that I know I'm missing something I need, but not being able to locate what that thing is, probably ranks highest on my most annoying list of what is happening to me as I get older. How is it that my brain can know hey, Todd, don't you think there is something else? but when I run through the list in my mind in order to recall the missing memory my brain is like nope, maybe that is everything because even though you feel like you are without something important you must really have everything. The most infuriating piece of all of this: the feeling is 99% correct every time. It means I'm missing something.
As I was unpacking and changing in to my running clothes, I confirmed that my odd feeling of forgetfulness was spot on once again. I didn't pack ear buds for my phone.
The temperature was 50 degrees, the sun was welcoming, and I didn't need the hat and gloves I had packed just like I probably didn't need my ear buds.
My determination today was to run entirely around the lake and today was perfect. It was more like spring than winter in January. Running without my music, pace, and time updates in my ear was a welcome change in routine, leading me to think about solitude.
Rustling leaves scraped their way along the pavement and made their way to piles on the opposite side of the trail and drew me into my surroundings.
A constant hum of vehicles racing east and west on Interstate 80 not far from the trail combined the beauty of nature with civilization.
I heard the replies of people on the trail as I waved and said hi. Generally I only read the responses of their body language because of my music pushing me on.
A plane soared overhead.
A few birds circled the lake that wanted to be frozen solid, yet the ice was pushing the way back to waves.
Diesel engines idled at the truck stop, their sounds like fumes floating down the hill, across the lake, and faintly reaching my senses, drifting in and out of the wind, becoming the background for what is usually in my ears.
This peacefulness of solitude made me long for more of it. This run felt different. I was no longer focused on the next interval update; rather I centered on my own breathing, how my body felt, and how one I was with my surroundings. Much of my life is focused on the opposite of solitude. My reminders on my computer pull me from thought to thought, communication to communication, task to task, making me feel tarried, incomplete, and unfocused. I'm drawn to flipping through apps on my phone when I should put it aside to focus on doing something productive and beneficial.
I wondered if I should be running more without technology. Maybe less technology in life would be better too.
Today's run officially kicked off my third week of training for the Lincoln Half-Marathon. As I was packing my running gear before I left for work this morning, I had the vaguest feeling that I was forgetting something important. The notion that I know I'm missing something I need, but not being able to locate what that thing is, probably ranks highest on my most annoying list of what is happening to me as I get older. How is it that my brain can know hey, Todd, don't you think there is something else? but when I run through the list in my mind in order to recall the missing memory my brain is like nope, maybe that is everything because even though you feel like you are without something important you must really have everything. The most infuriating piece of all of this: the feeling is 99% correct every time. It means I'm missing something.
As I was unpacking and changing in to my running clothes, I confirmed that my odd feeling of forgetfulness was spot on once again. I didn't pack ear buds for my phone.
The temperature was 50 degrees, the sun was welcoming, and I didn't need the hat and gloves I had packed just like I probably didn't need my ear buds.
My determination today was to run entirely around the lake and today was perfect. It was more like spring than winter in January. Running without my music, pace, and time updates in my ear was a welcome change in routine, leading me to think about solitude.
Rustling leaves scraped their way along the pavement and made their way to piles on the opposite side of the trail and drew me into my surroundings.
A constant hum of vehicles racing east and west on Interstate 80 not far from the trail combined the beauty of nature with civilization.
I heard the replies of people on the trail as I waved and said hi. Generally I only read the responses of their body language because of my music pushing me on.
A plane soared overhead.
A few birds circled the lake that wanted to be frozen solid, yet the ice was pushing the way back to waves.
Diesel engines idled at the truck stop, their sounds like fumes floating down the hill, across the lake, and faintly reaching my senses, drifting in and out of the wind, becoming the background for what is usually in my ears.
This peacefulness of solitude made me long for more of it. This run felt different. I was no longer focused on the next interval update; rather I centered on my own breathing, how my body felt, and how one I was with my surroundings. Much of my life is focused on the opposite of solitude. My reminders on my computer pull me from thought to thought, communication to communication, task to task, making me feel tarried, incomplete, and unfocused. I'm drawn to flipping through apps on my phone when I should put it aside to focus on doing something productive and beneficial.
I wondered if I should be running more without technology. Maybe less technology in life would be better too.
Sunday, January 25, 2015
Random racing ruminations: Urban living, gentrification, and great Omaha locations
This weekend ended my second week of training for the Lincoln Half-Marthon. I'm making incremental progress in my average pace and I'm slowly working up to longer distances. I know I must be patient with this entire training process. I'm impatient to see the results all my hard work will bring.
Sunday brought a great three mile interval run. I'm still struggling to control my breathing while increasing my stamina. Saturday was the longest run in my training schedule so far, a mere five miles. However, it's been over a year since I've run that distance so I will consider it a success. The paved trail near our home is a short one, far from five miles, and it doesn't connect to any other trails. Usually the beginning or ending portions of my runs require me to wind through surrounding neighborhoods to accomplish distances of longer than three miles. I tentatively charted out my Saturday's five-mile trek on Google Maps, and then I hit the streets of cool, older, Omaha neighborhoods. My route took me down some residential streets I previously have not explored. I took in my surroundings: houses of varying architectural styles, sizes, and character; some streets contained large, grand, well-maintained homes; some streets humble, unassuming, and in need of maintenance or repair; all had grand mature trees, indicating a past, a history, a story. I take comfort in these types of neighborhoods, hoping that their stories continue, live on, and flourish. Peoples' choices will determine the fates of neighborhoods like these and that fact is of great interest and concern to me. It is a topic I think of often, and it is the topic where my thoughts lingered while running this weekend.
When we moved to Omaha we consciously decided to live in the middle part of the city. We settled on an old historic neighborhood that, obviously, contains older homes. Our home is unique and has identifiable character. It will also require constant upkeep and renovation, entailing extra financial investment and sacrifice from us. Living where we do is an ongoing resolution that central/mid-town Omaha is not a bad place. Because it definitely is not a bad place. Good people live here. Are there challenges? Absolutely. Is it perfect? Of course not. To deny that there is much work to be done in parts of Omaha would be ignoring the depressing stories that speak truth to certain situations of poverty, crime, and neglected forgotten buildings and neighborhoods. I fear those outlier stories create some blindness in city-dwellers who then choose to be outliers of the outer sections of the city. Instead I want to highlight some amazing work and renovation taking place by government and private entities who are revitalizing the core of Omaha:
Aksarban Village
One obvious shining light is Aksarban Village. We appreciate this bright spot in central Omaha. Offices are located there, including Michelle's. Restaurants, movies, shopping, and great events like farmers markets and live music means there is always something to do. It is where we spent New Years Eve. This Saturday we bought a birthday gift at Learning HQ and then Lily enjoyed swinging for the first time on the swing set at Stinson Park.
Blackstone District
I'm incredibly excited for the up-and-coming Blackstone District. While I haven't explored any of these places yet, this area is turning into a nice place for local, small-businesses. An extreme amount of restoration and renovation has taken place in a very short time.
Benson
Historic downtown Benson is slowly being revitalized with small businesses and breweries joining the landscape. This area of town is continuing to create buzz about what is new and exciting in an older part of town.
Urban Village Development
Urban Village Development is amazing! This is a collective of locally owned and managed apartments. They care about the buildings, neighborhoods, and tenants of their properties. They take historic buildings or older buildings with charm and update and renovate them with modern furnishings. Here is their vision, mission, and core values, according to their website:
Midtown Crossing
Midtown Crossing is an up-scale area of shopping and living in a central part of Omaha. It has created excitement that is slowly spreading to renewed upkeep in the surrounding, once depressed neighborhoods. Here you can find condos, dining, movies, businesses, and live outdoor music and events during the warmer months of the year.
Other Smaller Urban Renewal Projects
In addition to larger retail and living developments, smaller projects are taking place throughout Omaha. Some of these are just certain building renovations, while others are blocks at a time, or individual homeowners updating houses. To me, these are the projects that are truly exciting because they are ordinary Omahans making a difference to better an entire city. Landmark Group real estate purchases older abandoned and sometimes historic buildings and renovates them into appealing livable spaces. Finally there are great stories of individuals like an Omaha couple who renovated an old home in the Florance neighborhood and another Omaha couple who worked to update an old and historic home in the Josylyn Castle neighborhood.
Just like running and training for a half-marathon, the results of progress can be slow and sometimes painful. The complexities of gentrification most certainly are at play in the improvements I mention taking place in Omaha. NPR produced a fascinating project exploring all the issues associated with gentrification in urban renewal projects. I urge anyone reading this blog to spend some time checking out NPR's Marketplace project titled York & Fig: At the Intersection of Change. The setbacks, challenges, and struggles taking place in the Highland Park neighborhood in L.A. at the corner of York and Fig are valuable for everyone to understand.
There are definitely different preferences for suburban versus urban living and I must acknowledge here that those preferences are valid and acceptable. But I hope for a return to older parts of Omaha by more people, those who have a passion and dedication for maintaining, renewing, and strengthening places that might have ill-perceived or misunderstood reputations.
While I wait to see these great changes continue to take place in Omaha, I look forward to another week of running and training. Charlie, who is too old to run with me any longer, looks intently out the window at the neighborhood, waiting for my return, so he can welcome me back home.
Sunday brought a great three mile interval run. I'm still struggling to control my breathing while increasing my stamina. Saturday was the longest run in my training schedule so far, a mere five miles. However, it's been over a year since I've run that distance so I will consider it a success. The paved trail near our home is a short one, far from five miles, and it doesn't connect to any other trails. Usually the beginning or ending portions of my runs require me to wind through surrounding neighborhoods to accomplish distances of longer than three miles. I tentatively charted out my Saturday's five-mile trek on Google Maps, and then I hit the streets of cool, older, Omaha neighborhoods. My route took me down some residential streets I previously have not explored. I took in my surroundings: houses of varying architectural styles, sizes, and character; some streets contained large, grand, well-maintained homes; some streets humble, unassuming, and in need of maintenance or repair; all had grand mature trees, indicating a past, a history, a story. I take comfort in these types of neighborhoods, hoping that their stories continue, live on, and flourish. Peoples' choices will determine the fates of neighborhoods like these and that fact is of great interest and concern to me. It is a topic I think of often, and it is the topic where my thoughts lingered while running this weekend.
When we moved to Omaha we consciously decided to live in the middle part of the city. We settled on an old historic neighborhood that, obviously, contains older homes. Our home is unique and has identifiable character. It will also require constant upkeep and renovation, entailing extra financial investment and sacrifice from us. Living where we do is an ongoing resolution that central/mid-town Omaha is not a bad place. Because it definitely is not a bad place. Good people live here. Are there challenges? Absolutely. Is it perfect? Of course not. To deny that there is much work to be done in parts of Omaha would be ignoring the depressing stories that speak truth to certain situations of poverty, crime, and neglected forgotten buildings and neighborhoods. I fear those outlier stories create some blindness in city-dwellers who then choose to be outliers of the outer sections of the city. Instead I want to highlight some amazing work and renovation taking place by government and private entities who are revitalizing the core of Omaha:
Aksarban Village
One obvious shining light is Aksarban Village. We appreciate this bright spot in central Omaha. Offices are located there, including Michelle's. Restaurants, movies, shopping, and great events like farmers markets and live music means there is always something to do. It is where we spent New Years Eve. This Saturday we bought a birthday gift at Learning HQ and then Lily enjoyed swinging for the first time on the swing set at Stinson Park.
Blackstone District
I'm incredibly excited for the up-and-coming Blackstone District. While I haven't explored any of these places yet, this area is turning into a nice place for local, small-businesses. An extreme amount of restoration and renovation has taken place in a very short time.
Benson
Historic downtown Benson is slowly being revitalized with small businesses and breweries joining the landscape. This area of town is continuing to create buzz about what is new and exciting in an older part of town.
Urban Village Development
Urban Village Development is amazing! This is a collective of locally owned and managed apartments. They care about the buildings, neighborhoods, and tenants of their properties. They take historic buildings or older buildings with charm and update and renovate them with modern furnishings. Here is their vision, mission, and core values, according to their website:
Vision: To facilitate the transformation of Midtown Omaha into one of the areas strongest real estate submarkets.As opposed to the slum lords and landlords of Omaha who purchase cheap real-estate to make quick rental investment income at the expense of lower-income tenants (which perpetuates crime and poverty), Urban Village Development is the exact opposite. They are making a significant difference in the core of the city.
Mission: Revitalize urban communities by rebuilding the fabric of the neighborhoods.
Core Values:
Be a good neighbor.
Do not own anything that we would not live in ourselves.
Take chaos to calm.
Treat the property like you live in it.
Trust and Respect. Do what you say you are going to do.
Never forget the difficulties of the little guy who does not have many resources.
Midtown Crossing
Midtown Crossing is an up-scale area of shopping and living in a central part of Omaha. It has created excitement that is slowly spreading to renewed upkeep in the surrounding, once depressed neighborhoods. Here you can find condos, dining, movies, businesses, and live outdoor music and events during the warmer months of the year.
Other Smaller Urban Renewal Projects
In addition to larger retail and living developments, smaller projects are taking place throughout Omaha. Some of these are just certain building renovations, while others are blocks at a time, or individual homeowners updating houses. To me, these are the projects that are truly exciting because they are ordinary Omahans making a difference to better an entire city. Landmark Group real estate purchases older abandoned and sometimes historic buildings and renovates them into appealing livable spaces. Finally there are great stories of individuals like an Omaha couple who renovated an old home in the Florance neighborhood and another Omaha couple who worked to update an old and historic home in the Josylyn Castle neighborhood.
Just like running and training for a half-marathon, the results of progress can be slow and sometimes painful. The complexities of gentrification most certainly are at play in the improvements I mention taking place in Omaha. NPR produced a fascinating project exploring all the issues associated with gentrification in urban renewal projects. I urge anyone reading this blog to spend some time checking out NPR's Marketplace project titled York & Fig: At the Intersection of Change. The setbacks, challenges, and struggles taking place in the Highland Park neighborhood in L.A. at the corner of York and Fig are valuable for everyone to understand.There are definitely different preferences for suburban versus urban living and I must acknowledge here that those preferences are valid and acceptable. But I hope for a return to older parts of Omaha by more people, those who have a passion and dedication for maintaining, renewing, and strengthening places that might have ill-perceived or misunderstood reputations.
While I wait to see these great changes continue to take place in Omaha, I look forward to another week of running and training. Charlie, who is too old to run with me any longer, looks intently out the window at the neighborhood, waiting for my return, so he can welcome me back home.
Thursday, January 22, 2015
Random racing ruminations: Week 15, Time
WEEK 15
(3.0 mile run)
Temperature 33 degrees
Mile 1 = 9:31
Mile 2 = 9:38
Mile 3 = 9:17
I once had a leader at work who always talked about time. He would constantly repeat himself regarding this topic, saying that time was the only variable one could control. He was oftentimes pompous, going further about time stating that we had to use time in ways that were smart. By being efficient, he would allude, one could be better. Usually I would take his statements about time as a personal attack, an affront on what I sometimes believed: there was value in dwelling, pondering, and spending or investing more time in something. Efficiency could potentially erode and devalue certain activities.
As I was sitting at my desk glancing at regular intervals to the bottom corner of my computer screen where the clock is, watching the minutes quickly turn over to afternoon, I almost thought about not running over lunch like I had originally planned. That cursed time had once again gotten the better of me. And that fact unnerved me. Until I just decided to stop focusing on it, logging off the computer to change into running clothes.
The laps around the lake near work were chillier than the past week, a mere 33 degrees which is wonderful for this time of year but cold compared to our weather lately. I had my running app set on my phone to give me time and pace updates but surprisingly, even though I know they were in my ear buds, I wasn't paying them much attention. Today's ruminations were all about time.
My training for this half-marathon had a focus on time.
My work day was dictated by time, oftentimes on projects I may not have wanted to dedicate energy to, but a necessary part of work.
My mornings before work were corrupted by time: time I love to spend snuggling and feeding Lily. Moments of talking, laughing, and mimicking each other as I get her dressed. In the past, morning time used to be time I only had to focus on myself, and I was always at work earlier, better prepared for the day. As a dad, I've willingly given up that time. But it is still an adjustment that leaves me feeling disheveled, not quite psyched-up for the time ahead.
The end of the week came quickly and I'm not certain I feel my time has been well-spent this week. I'm sure I can articulate the best and worst moments in time this week, pointing to those as evidence that I'm a productive being on this planet.
I was pulled back from these time-laden thoughts with a reminder that my time running was half way over. I turned around and looked to my destination, directly across to the other side of the frozen lake. I could see my office calling me back, daring me to be late for my 1:00 p.m. meeting. It was time to pick up the pace and overcome the hilly path only to return next week, another time.
(3.0 mile run)
Temperature 33 degrees
Mile 1 = 9:31
Mile 2 = 9:38
Mile 3 = 9:17
I once had a leader at work who always talked about time. He would constantly repeat himself regarding this topic, saying that time was the only variable one could control. He was oftentimes pompous, going further about time stating that we had to use time in ways that were smart. By being efficient, he would allude, one could be better. Usually I would take his statements about time as a personal attack, an affront on what I sometimes believed: there was value in dwelling, pondering, and spending or investing more time in something. Efficiency could potentially erode and devalue certain activities.
As I was sitting at my desk glancing at regular intervals to the bottom corner of my computer screen where the clock is, watching the minutes quickly turn over to afternoon, I almost thought about not running over lunch like I had originally planned. That cursed time had once again gotten the better of me. And that fact unnerved me. Until I just decided to stop focusing on it, logging off the computer to change into running clothes.
The laps around the lake near work were chillier than the past week, a mere 33 degrees which is wonderful for this time of year but cold compared to our weather lately. I had my running app set on my phone to give me time and pace updates but surprisingly, even though I know they were in my ear buds, I wasn't paying them much attention. Today's ruminations were all about time.
My training for this half-marathon had a focus on time.
My work day was dictated by time, oftentimes on projects I may not have wanted to dedicate energy to, but a necessary part of work.
My mornings before work were corrupted by time: time I love to spend snuggling and feeding Lily. Moments of talking, laughing, and mimicking each other as I get her dressed. In the past, morning time used to be time I only had to focus on myself, and I was always at work earlier, better prepared for the day. As a dad, I've willingly given up that time. But it is still an adjustment that leaves me feeling disheveled, not quite psyched-up for the time ahead.
The end of the week came quickly and I'm not certain I feel my time has been well-spent this week. I'm sure I can articulate the best and worst moments in time this week, pointing to those as evidence that I'm a productive being on this planet.
I was pulled back from these time-laden thoughts with a reminder that my time running was half way over. I turned around and looked to my destination, directly across to the other side of the frozen lake. I could see my office calling me back, daring me to be late for my 1:00 p.m. meeting. It was time to pick up the pace and overcome the hilly path only to return next week, another time.
Tuesday, January 20, 2015
Random racing ruminations: Week 15, Movement
WEEK 15(3.0 mile run)
Temperature 47 degrees
Mile 1 = 9:08
Mile 2 = 8:44
Mile 3 = 8:49
My short three mile run today was around the lake at work during my lunch. This was the first run since my sad and strenuous interval training run on Sunday. It felt good to get out and move again. Seeing fellow runners making their movements around the trail at the lake during the same time was enough motivation in itself. The quick waves and head bobs as we passed each other communicated membership to some real (or maybe not so real) commitment to a way of living or being. I wondered if I was a poser, since I've only been back at this running thing for over a week. Would the real runners discover I wasn't one of them? I was just on a short three mile stint and then heading back to the office. However, maybe my choice to be out there with them was validation enough.
In other happenings, Lily began crawling for the first time today. Only yesterday, I blogged about how I thought she probably could crawl if she really wanted to. Well, today, it appears she really wants to move. And, therefor, it seemed fitting that today's theme should be movement.
Monday, January 19, 2015
Random racing ruminations: Week 16, Perseverence
WEEK 16Saturday (4.0 mile run)
Temperature 49 degrees
Mile 1 = 9:15
Mile 2 = 9:04
Mile 3 = 9:32
Mile 4 = 9:31
Sunday (3.0 mile run)
Temperature 38 degrees
Mile 1 = 9:42
Mile 2 = 9:49
Mile 3 = 9:15
I've been dwelling on perseverance lately. In watching Lily learn about the world and observing her experience the most casual of ordinary happenings, I see her persist and persevere on a regular basis.
She has extreme determination to figure out the coordination of her hands adjusting them to push, pull, and grasp the moving parts on her toys.
I know she wants to communicate with us using words but, of course is unable to yet. She experiments with all the different sounds her mouth, throat, tongue, and lips can make.
She flings and flips food in every direction possible to find the fastest and most efficient way to get it in her mouth so that she can develop her novice pallet.And while I think she could crawl if she really wanted to, watching her on the floor is quite inspiring. Her trial and error of coordinating arms, legs, rocking, kicking, and pulling to accomplish systematic momentum is fantastic. I'm constantly rooting for her, hoping she'll figure it out. Charlie seems to be supporting her in these floor-crawling endeavors. He loves to lay next to her on her blanket and give her puppy kisses as forms of love and encouragement.
Charlie, too, perseveres to accomplish what he wants, mainly food. Lily has become his new favorite person, especially when she is eating because he patiently waits under her chair for all the rejected scraps to drop his way. Watching him persist makes me think of an entirely new definition of determination: starving obsession.
For both Lily and Charlie, perseverance and drive appears to arrive naturally. But I know this isn't always the case in life. As my first week of training for the Lincoln Half-Marathon came to a close this weekend, I had two runs scheduled: one on Saturday and one on Sunday. Saturday's run was almost effortless until howling winds seemed more determined than me. Then Sunday seven in the evening came quickly and I first thought about running. I didn't have any desire to make it happen. When I realized that all my running clothes were in the laundry, I quickly convinced myself that I would run Monday instead. I sat down on the couch feeling bad about myself.
Then some serious self-talk took place. I went upstairs and pulled out old gross running pants that are now yard work and housework clothes, ones that I've painted in many times and there are various colors of paint flecks covering them. It was dark out already, so who cared what my pants looked like?
I put in my ear buds and began my three mile interval training. It didn't feel good. I couldn't get control of my breathing or how tired my body felt. At just the right time into mile 2 came the wise words from Salt-N-Pepa, Ah, push it (yes, this all-time classic is part of my running playlist), egging me on to adjust my stride and persevere.
Later at the very end of mile 3, on the last stretch of some terrible interval training, came some even wiser words from Bobby McFerrin,
In every life we have some trouble
When you worry you make it double
Don't worry, be happy
Thursday, January 15, 2015
Random racing ruminations: Week 16, Take a break
The weather forecasters predicted some very warm weather for a January in Nebraska. After a run this week with temperatures in the upper twenties, when I heard today's high was going to be 45 degrees I planned to take advantage of the opportunity. Luckily my work is located on a beautiful lake with a paved trail around it. I haven't had a chance to go down the hill to explore this amazing area, and since it gets dark at 5:30p.m., running during the day on the trail around the lake seemed like a brilliant idea.During my lunch break, I quickly switched from business casual attire to running attire. There was something about the atmosphere and nature that must have aided in me shaving a minute off of every mile.
The run was a nice break from what was an ordinary work day.
Breaks are important. They allow our minds to drift and wander. And when our minds rest, that is when we are the most creative. A lingering mind is an opportunity for our brains and spirits to catch up with our fast preoccupation with what is next. Take a break for solitude. Take a break to speak with a co-worker you haven't had a chance to get to know. Take a break to laugh. Take a break to daydream. Take a break to do something just for fun. Take a run.
WEEK 16
(3.26 mile run)
Temperature 38 degrees
Mile 1 = 8:58
Mile 2 = 9:19
Mile 3 = 9:04
Tuesday, January 13, 2015
Random racing ruminations
On May 15, 2014 Lily, my daughter, was born. On May 13, 2014, I wrote a blog post about the years of age, which was composed while sitting on my front porch drinking a beer. I had just decided to forgo a run on a beautiful day because relaxing with alcohol was more enticing, which was basically the impetus of the blog post: reflections regarding where I've been and where I'm going in life.
After those ruminations about my health status and impending fatherhood, my thoughts have returned to running and the importance of staying healthy so I can be a great father to a very tiny, precious girl.
Running has been nonexistent in my life since Lily's birth. And I want running back. I need it back. To keep myself accountable I signed up for the Lincoln Half-Marathon on May 3, 2015. I began my official training tonight after work and as my shoes hit the pavement of the concrete steps leading down the front porch towards a long-term arduous goal, the wandering thoughts began.
I thought about my first half-marathon which was also in Lincoln.
I thought about when I convinced myself it was unnecessary to run another half-marathon. This was when my mind really began racing, probably a result of a runners high, bundled up with three layers of clothing in the dark winter air. Running is when thoughts frantically flip, and sometimes clarity presents itself. So here is the randomness (or at least some of it), in no particular order, from my experience this evening:
While I'm running again, I should also write.
A great way to write again is to document my training for the half-marathon; therefore I will do that, blog about every training run.
I'm excited to be running again, but I'm insane to be doing this. I should have a title, a theme, for these blog posts about running. Wait. I'm really not running now. This is more like a jog. Gosh I'm out of shape. I hope I don't slip on ice. I need a play on words for a title. Maybe the theme could be how my mind "races" when I run. Would that be appealing to readers? Running, racing, get it? That's kinda clever. . .
Brown bear brown bear, what do you see? I see a red bird looking at me. Damn, I will never, EVER, get that book out of my head.
I've learned a lot about myself since Lily was born. I want to be present as a father, but I also want to provide for my family. Changing jobs has been the best thing for me to accomplish those dichotomous goals. I can't believe I used to spend 10-12 hours a day at work. Life is too short for that.
Lily, is discovering her voice: high screams, rhythmic jaw movements, lips vibrating against the back of her wrist, yells of frustration, the tongue da da da da sounds on the roof of her mouth, and deep guttural sounds combined from the back of her throat and diaphragm. She's fun.
It's a good thing I put my 16 weeks of training into my calendar otherwise I would talk myself out of this.
I wonder what other topics I should write about as I return to blogging . . .
I returned home, three miles later, feeling accomplished and energetic, which is the best part of running: the after-effects. The results of doing something productive will hopefully inspire me further in running and writing.
WEEK 16
(3 mile run)
Temperature 27 degrees
Mile 1 = 10:10
Mile 2 = 9:45
Mile 3 = 9:54
After those ruminations about my health status and impending fatherhood, my thoughts have returned to running and the importance of staying healthy so I can be a great father to a very tiny, precious girl.Running has been nonexistent in my life since Lily's birth. And I want running back. I need it back. To keep myself accountable I signed up for the Lincoln Half-Marathon on May 3, 2015. I began my official training tonight after work and as my shoes hit the pavement of the concrete steps leading down the front porch towards a long-term arduous goal, the wandering thoughts began.
I thought about my first half-marathon which was also in Lincoln.
I thought about when I convinced myself it was unnecessary to run another half-marathon. This was when my mind really began racing, probably a result of a runners high, bundled up with three layers of clothing in the dark winter air. Running is when thoughts frantically flip, and sometimes clarity presents itself. So here is the randomness (or at least some of it), in no particular order, from my experience this evening:
While I'm running again, I should also write.
A great way to write again is to document my training for the half-marathon; therefore I will do that, blog about every training run.
I'm excited to be running again, but I'm insane to be doing this. I should have a title, a theme, for these blog posts about running. Wait. I'm really not running now. This is more like a jog. Gosh I'm out of shape. I hope I don't slip on ice. I need a play on words for a title. Maybe the theme could be how my mind "races" when I run. Would that be appealing to readers? Running, racing, get it? That's kinda clever. . .
Brown bear brown bear, what do you see? I see a red bird looking at me. Damn, I will never, EVER, get that book out of my head.
I've learned a lot about myself since Lily was born. I want to be present as a father, but I also want to provide for my family. Changing jobs has been the best thing for me to accomplish those dichotomous goals. I can't believe I used to spend 10-12 hours a day at work. Life is too short for that.
Lily, is discovering her voice: high screams, rhythmic jaw movements, lips vibrating against the back of her wrist, yells of frustration, the tongue da da da da sounds on the roof of her mouth, and deep guttural sounds combined from the back of her throat and diaphragm. She's fun.
It's a good thing I put my 16 weeks of training into my calendar otherwise I would talk myself out of this.
I wonder what other topics I should write about as I return to blogging . . .
I returned home, three miles later, feeling accomplished and energetic, which is the best part of running: the after-effects. The results of doing something productive will hopefully inspire me further in running and writing.
WEEK 16
(3 mile run)
Temperature 27 degrees
Mile 1 = 10:10
Mile 2 = 9:45
Mile 3 = 9:54
Sunday, June 8, 2014
Kisses from puppy brother
Now that I'm a father I have endless blog post topics. Now that I'm a father, the only time I have for said blog topics is a quick note where they get lost on the page with other seemingly great ideas. Maybe I'll have to embrace brevity as my new best friend. And so, in the spirit of that briefness, here is the story of how we brought our healthy daughter, Lily, home from the hospital.
Internet research began long before going into labor, paired by discussions with friends who have paved the way with children and dogs. We discovered scent is everything. I packed one of Lily's future blankets into the bag we took to labor and delivery. We used this blanket for about a day after Lily was born, wrapping her in it as much as possible.
Then, the day before bringing Lily home, I brought the blanket home. Just like any new item we introduce into the house, Charlie must be there to inspect the contents and the blanket was no exception. But it was unlike other new things we've put in the house; the second I let him smell it, he couldn't get enough of it. His tail curved down, still wagging. He buried his nose in the blanket, sniffing. This introduction session could have lasted longer than the duration of five minutes I allowed, but I was on a timeline to shower, grab some necessities, and head back to the hospital.
I walked up the stairs to the bedrooms, blanket in hand, and Charlie right at my heals the entire way. I simply dropped the blanket into the crib in Lily's room. Charlie stood there, smelling, walking around the crib. He returned several times as if to check and ensure the newly scented blanket was still there.
A day and a half later, we put Lily in the Subaru Outback for the first time, giving her the first ride home. Michelle walked into the house first to give Charlie an opportunity to greet her. Then I walked in a moment later, carrying Lily. There is no way to know that Charlie knew Lily was ours, but I'm certain he knew.
He excitedly followed me around the house and I got down to his level so that he could meet his human sister. Immediately he wanted to devour her with love, giving the all-so-famous Charlie licks. He started with her feet and it didn't take long for him to try to do the same on her soft infant head. We put a quick end to his obsessiveness, trying to keep him from going at Lily too quickly or jumping near her.
Now Charlie accepts Lily as part of our family. He is patient with her and with us as we all try to figure out this new way of living with each other. Like the loyal and loving dog he is, Charlie is present every moment, right there, alongside us.
He still loves giving puppy brother kisses to his human sister, licking her cheeks, forehead, arms, hands, and feet. Lily tolerates it with her infant-stink face. And I, too, am often the recipient of that same exact stink face.
Internet research began long before going into labor, paired by discussions with friends who have paved the way with children and dogs. We discovered scent is everything. I packed one of Lily's future blankets into the bag we took to labor and delivery. We used this blanket for about a day after Lily was born, wrapping her in it as much as possible.Then, the day before bringing Lily home, I brought the blanket home. Just like any new item we introduce into the house, Charlie must be there to inspect the contents and the blanket was no exception. But it was unlike other new things we've put in the house; the second I let him smell it, he couldn't get enough of it. His tail curved down, still wagging. He buried his nose in the blanket, sniffing. This introduction session could have lasted longer than the duration of five minutes I allowed, but I was on a timeline to shower, grab some necessities, and head back to the hospital.
I walked up the stairs to the bedrooms, blanket in hand, and Charlie right at my heals the entire way. I simply dropped the blanket into the crib in Lily's room. Charlie stood there, smelling, walking around the crib. He returned several times as if to check and ensure the newly scented blanket was still there.A day and a half later, we put Lily in the Subaru Outback for the first time, giving her the first ride home. Michelle walked into the house first to give Charlie an opportunity to greet her. Then I walked in a moment later, carrying Lily. There is no way to know that Charlie knew Lily was ours, but I'm certain he knew.
He excitedly followed me around the house and I got down to his level so that he could meet his human sister. Immediately he wanted to devour her with love, giving the all-so-famous Charlie licks. He started with her feet and it didn't take long for him to try to do the same on her soft infant head. We put a quick end to his obsessiveness, trying to keep him from going at Lily too quickly or jumping near her.
Now Charlie accepts Lily as part of our family. He is patient with her and with us as we all try to figure out this new way of living with each other. Like the loyal and loving dog he is, Charlie is present every moment, right there, alongside us.He still loves giving puppy brother kisses to his human sister, licking her cheeks, forehead, arms, hands, and feet. Lily tolerates it with her infant-stink face. And I, too, am often the recipient of that same exact stink face.
Tuesday, May 13, 2014
The years of age
Approximately three weeks ago I met with my dietician. It's an obligatory ritual as part of our health coverage, and it is honestly something I don't mind doing. Well, except for the eight to twelve hours of fasting before the required blood-draw in order to run biometrics like HDL and LDL cholesterol, triglycerides, and blood sugar glucose levels. This skinny man has difficulty fasting that long; I enjoy and need food.
Discussing my health status has taken on another level of meaning for me as I've grown older. I've begun to care more deeply about my health, and take it more seriously. While I never have lived recklessly or lived a lifestyle that puts my health in question, age has made me different. Eating a more balanced diet becomes conscious and deliberate. Caring about how I feel, and, listening to my body and responding accordingly has become a central priority instead of just plowing through whatever it is that seems more important than how I'm feeling.
So each year, when I get the results from my dietician and we discuss my health indicators, I take great pride in the fact that I'm very healthy for my age. And it's not necessarily the "healthy" part. It's the "age" part that has me most concerned. As each year forges on, I begin to cherish all that is good around me. This may begin to sound like old-man writing here, but priorities have shifted. Existing beliefs have solidified. I now focus more on the present and what matters most, dismissing more triviality, taking stock in simplicity. Age 35 came quickly this year, and I hope 40, 45, and 50 do as well. It's important for me that they do.
This thinking could be man's version of "nesting," as the due date of our first child passed on Sunday. Thinking about our daughter is definitely the driving variable in this meandering post about the years of age.
But there are other variables. Like the fact that it's much harder to run these days. Even though I've been running more consistently now than I have for quite some time, running isn't necessarily running anymore. It's jogging. Even when I'm sprinting, it's jogging. And I feel those "sprints" the next day. Breathing when I run has also become more predictable. Mile three I'm about to give in. When I get past that marker, don't even get me started about the motivation and mindset needed to thrive past mile 5.
I've developed the habit of snoring. And not just little snores, but those old-man, bear-like, throat-and-nose-all-at-the-same-time (if you're going to do it, do it big) type of snoring. How do I know? Michelle lets me know by kicking, hitting, and down-right punching me throughout the night to get me to stop. This, obviously, wakes me up, while also interrupting my sleep cycle, making me exhausted the next day. Or, sadly, I wake myself up with my own noise. This definitely is an old man problem. I wonder if my dietician can run some sort of biometric related to snoring?
Hair grows differently. And out of my nose, ears, and in extremely long singular strands on my lower neck. I have no idea why this all happens. I refuse to be that one dude with the bushy hair you see creeping out of his nose, or flapping in the wind from his ears. I trim regularly. Weirdest thing.
Five in the morning is no longer invigorating. And neither is 9:30 at night. Or even 1:30 in the afternoon. Sleep, naps, and resting are all great activities. (Reference the topic of snoring two paragraphs up).
I've begun to notice that instead of seeking advice, I've somehow turned into the confidant. The adviser. The one people listen to more and doubt and question less.
By habit I listen more. I ponder and am more gracious with others. I only speak when it's prudent. I actually have multiple scenarios and experiences from which to draw upon, instead of seeing most everything as an exciting revelation.
I'm more confident. While I still care about impressions, I care less about making impressions.
Despite all these indications of oldness, I feel good. 35 yeas of age is just a marker, a name, language, and gauge of time. It is surreal. My dietician says everything about my health is outstanding. I'm proud that the care I've invested into my health is paying off.
And so tonight, instead of taking advantage of the perfect weather to go on a long run, I instead chose to drink beer on the front porch, watch the neighborhood, and write this blog post. Sometimes actions speak louder than words.
Discussing my health status has taken on another level of meaning for me as I've grown older. I've begun to care more deeply about my health, and take it more seriously. While I never have lived recklessly or lived a lifestyle that puts my health in question, age has made me different. Eating a more balanced diet becomes conscious and deliberate. Caring about how I feel, and, listening to my body and responding accordingly has become a central priority instead of just plowing through whatever it is that seems more important than how I'm feeling.
So each year, when I get the results from my dietician and we discuss my health indicators, I take great pride in the fact that I'm very healthy for my age. And it's not necessarily the "healthy" part. It's the "age" part that has me most concerned. As each year forges on, I begin to cherish all that is good around me. This may begin to sound like old-man writing here, but priorities have shifted. Existing beliefs have solidified. I now focus more on the present and what matters most, dismissing more triviality, taking stock in simplicity. Age 35 came quickly this year, and I hope 40, 45, and 50 do as well. It's important for me that they do.
This thinking could be man's version of "nesting," as the due date of our first child passed on Sunday. Thinking about our daughter is definitely the driving variable in this meandering post about the years of age.
But there are other variables. Like the fact that it's much harder to run these days. Even though I've been running more consistently now than I have for quite some time, running isn't necessarily running anymore. It's jogging. Even when I'm sprinting, it's jogging. And I feel those "sprints" the next day. Breathing when I run has also become more predictable. Mile three I'm about to give in. When I get past that marker, don't even get me started about the motivation and mindset needed to thrive past mile 5.
I've developed the habit of snoring. And not just little snores, but those old-man, bear-like, throat-and-nose-all-at-the-same-time (if you're going to do it, do it big) type of snoring. How do I know? Michelle lets me know by kicking, hitting, and down-right punching me throughout the night to get me to stop. This, obviously, wakes me up, while also interrupting my sleep cycle, making me exhausted the next day. Or, sadly, I wake myself up with my own noise. This definitely is an old man problem. I wonder if my dietician can run some sort of biometric related to snoring?
Hair grows differently. And out of my nose, ears, and in extremely long singular strands on my lower neck. I have no idea why this all happens. I refuse to be that one dude with the bushy hair you see creeping out of his nose, or flapping in the wind from his ears. I trim regularly. Weirdest thing.
Five in the morning is no longer invigorating. And neither is 9:30 at night. Or even 1:30 in the afternoon. Sleep, naps, and resting are all great activities. (Reference the topic of snoring two paragraphs up).
I've begun to notice that instead of seeking advice, I've somehow turned into the confidant. The adviser. The one people listen to more and doubt and question less.
By habit I listen more. I ponder and am more gracious with others. I only speak when it's prudent. I actually have multiple scenarios and experiences from which to draw upon, instead of seeing most everything as an exciting revelation.
I'm more confident. While I still care about impressions, I care less about making impressions.
Despite all these indications of oldness, I feel good. 35 yeas of age is just a marker, a name, language, and gauge of time. It is surreal. My dietician says everything about my health is outstanding. I'm proud that the care I've invested into my health is paying off.
And so tonight, instead of taking advantage of the perfect weather to go on a long run, I instead chose to drink beer on the front porch, watch the neighborhood, and write this blog post. Sometimes actions speak louder than words.
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