I was thinking of Maddy and Nathan (the baby that died a month after Ruby was born) last night.
Thoughts and love,
Holly
Monday, December 14, 2009
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Thursday, November 6, 2008
8 Mile
november 21, 2004
saturday morning, energized by 3 hours of sleep and a bit of drinking the night before, I awoke at 5:45am, poked my contacts back into my eyes, and went to run 8 miles.
after my accidental foray into the sweaty arms of madness a few weeks ago, i've actually continued training for the freescale half-marathon in february. in fact, not until this last week did i discover that these people had actually paid $150 to be in this training group. so, i paid my fee, and now have the additional motivators of guilt and buyer's remorse to keep me going.
the previous saturday, i faced my greatest challenge, in a 7:30am six-mile run. to be precise, the waking up bit was the actual challenge, followed closely by my being on time. that done, running six miles was entirely anticlimactic.
sadly, the victory of conquering rosy-fingered dawn that morning was short-lived, as coach carolyn announced that the next saturday run would be eight miles, and would start at 6:30am. the terror of that would overshadow an entire week of my life.
nevertheless, i did it. i got up and showed up, even a bit early. again, i considered declaring a moral victory and going back home, but i looked into the faces of the supportive people i've met over the past few weeks. they stretched and chatted and smiled enthusiastically, with the same happy ignorance of their impending doom as on a dog being called into the car for a one-way trip to the farmlands outside of town.
i was ready. new shorts. new long-sleeve Nike dri-fit shirt. and i had peed twice in the last twenty minutes. a great mystery of my body, in which i have as of yet been unable to interest well-funded medical researchers, is in my urine-creating efficiency.
anytime i go running, here's the routine: pee before leaving work/house; get to running location, pee; run one mile... pee. we're not talking about some misfiring-nerve bundle false alarm. we're talking a good hearty making of pee, every time. and if i have to go at all, i'm useless athletically. i get all tensed-up in the... hipular area. i can't run smoothly at all.
but finally, on this saturday morning, i had anticipated the issue, and gone twice before leaving home. i felt good, in control, loose.
vasoline was offered to combat chafing, but i could not bring myself to rub lubricant on my nipples in front of 50 people.
soon, we were off, and i have to say, it was a beautiful thing. we ran along tree-lined neighborhood streets, in a misty darkness that was slowly and imperceptibly beginning to lift, indigo-tinted blackness losing itself to subdued shades of gray.
the melody of quiet, friendly conversation lilted lightly over the soft rhythym of running shoes that padded on pavement like brushes played lightly on a snare drum.
within the first two to three minutes, there was a truly peaceful and transcendent moment where the approaching dawn seemed to gather its breath, and as the light began to assert itself, the shirts and skin of the people around me glowed briefly, beautifully, as if in moonlight.
i had to pee.
later, i spoke to a friend of mine who has run two marathons, and whose desire to remain anonymous in connection with bodily functions i horribly underestimated. so, we shall call her "heather" in order to annoy and falsely incriminate my friend heather. anyway, "heather" suggests that i simply pee in my shorts, as i run, like the professionals do. in fact, she told me, some woman that won the boston marathon apparently crossed the finish line with diarrhea running down her leg. in yet more unwanted, increasingly disturbing fact, heather told me she knows two other people who have, in clinical terms, pooped themselves with explosive diarrhea in the course of running a marathon.
boxing, cricket and curling make more sense to me every day.
anyway, as i began to obsess about the state of my bladder, my hips tightened, the rigidity spreading slightly to my stomach and thighs. this was not good. i began to plod. to make matters worse, i had failed to align myself with anyone for the blessed distraction of company and conversation that can make the miles pass so much easier. no one around me seemed amenable to conversation.
i began to run only in hopes of getting to a restroom, but there were none on the route. at one intersection, i saw a park restroom in the distance, but i was afraid to break for it, afraid that people would think i had gone mad. i kept running in hope. stupid, stupid hope.
finally, at the four-mile turnaround point, we emerged from the neighborhoods into a commercial area, and I dove into a convenience store.
a few minutes later, i was out the front door, and immediately began striding, a new man - Running Man, phidippides himself reborn, glorious and swift, with the theme from chariots of fire crescendoing in my head and in my heart. this continued for about 5 minutes, before i realized that i still had four miles left to run, and that i had exhausted myself from trying to clench my entire intestinal system into submission for 40 minutes. furthermore, i had overdressed, and my cool new Nike dri-fit long sleeve shirt became a wet, heavy, nipple-chafing runner's hairshirt.
i began to struggle, and continued to struggle, but i made it. the bathroom break put me right behind a group of women that included mo, the first person i had met in the training group. i chased them all the way to the end, though even in a sprint to the finish, i was unable to actually catch them.
eight miles is a long freaking way to run. it's not so much fun on a bike, or even in a car. as i drove home, i thought of calling heather as i had the week before to trumpet my accomplishment, then it occurred to me that i had run eight, but she had run 26. twice. and while that may say something about her sanity and/or deep-rooted psychotic need to destroy or punish herself in some way, it says little for my own minor accomplishment.
it occurred to me that i had not even run 3/4 of a half-marathon. then it occurred to me that as hard as the half-marathon would be, it was only, well, half of a marathon. running 13 miles would be much more impressive if it were called something interesting and independent of its relationship to the whole 26-mile marathon concept. it dawned on me that running 13 miles had been named a "half-marathon" by some prima-donna marathon runners who wanted to make their superiority clear. i'm surprised they didn't go ahead and call it a "Half-Assed Marathon," or, as my friend mara would later call it, the "Pussy Marathon."
the next morning, after some sleep and after my blood-sugar level returned to normal, i reconsidered, and i realized two things.
i realized the zen-like lesson to be learned in this experience: that the challenge is not in the absolute distance travelled, but in the struggle, in pushing your body and mind further than it knows it can go. it may be 26 miles, 13 miles, 3 miles, or across a room.
i also realized that while i might only run 13 miles, there's no way in hell i'm going to shit myself.
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Six Miles
There's been a lot in the media this week, on the seventh-year anniversary of 9/11. I remembered this post on my personal blog, and though many of my friends and much of my life has changed dramatically since then, this still means something to me. Oh, and I don't like capital letters. Not because I'm lazy, but it's a rhythm thing and a smoothness thing. Anyway.
at 7:45 this morning, i closed the door behind me, and didn't lock it. i've tried in the past to be a morning runner, without any successful consistency, but recently, cooler mornings beckoned and busier evenings pressed.
i was a bit disappointed to find it was still somewhat warm, and definitely as humid as ever, but i went down the stairs and started to run. traffic moved, but it was quiet. it struck me that i was lucky to not have to be at work at eight in the morning. i've been lucky like that before...
five years and one minute earlier, i was as oblivious as anyone as to how the world was about to change. it's become cliche to talk about how the world changed, and maybe there's something purely sentimentalist to think that much changed, in the long, big scheme of things.
but we all know better. life moved on, but something in our minds had changed, for a multitude of reasons, but paramount among them, for the mere shock, the impact of something very large and very real happening.
by 9:02 this morning, i had covered almost a couple of miles, and was moving down past the school, towards zilker park. a couple on bikes nodded as they passed me, pedaling slowly and sedately. an older man in suspenders and a hat watched approvingly as sprinklers gently showered his lawn.
five years earlier, my then-girlfriend chandra yelled. i was in another room of her townhome, waiting to drive us to work. the t.v. was on in the bedroom, and she was standing there, staring.
i came in, moments before 8:03am, 9:03 at tower two, and along with the rest of the world, i saw the horrible punctuation mark at the end of the pre-9/11 world punctuated again.
i ran down barton springs road this morning, past the traffic stacking up to go to work and school, and i thought about how real it had all felt that morning, but yet how unreal it felt later, when we began to realize why it had happened. the reality of death and pain had sprung from things that man has created, artificial things - politics, money, religion that parodies and defiles spirituality, governments and policies that with agendas other than peace and the betterment of humanity.
i got through three miles, and turned south onto lamar boulevard, for the last two miles of my run, a long, uphill grind. i slowed to a walk for a few seconds, then gathered myself and began to run again, metering my breaths, timing them with the cadence of my footfalls.
politics, war, business, most of our jobs for that matter... they're only real because we've made them things that characterize our existence, but they're not essentially or necessarily part of who we are - they're constructs humanity has made up to meet other ends, and often to poorly fill sad little holes in our existence.
running, though, is real. it was there at our beginning, out of need, but i have to imagine that even early humans enjoyed how it felt to move quickly across the earth, maybe to race their friends, or maybe just for the hell of it.
one of my coaches was unabashedly sentimental today, saying he was going to toast all of us tonight, "in honor of our way of life and thanks that we are able to be free to do what we love - run."
i finished the run, went to work, and all day i was reminded of how unreal so much of our world is. business mangles language to create the salable illusion of meaning. our legal system is not about justice, but more a parody of itself, too often a tool better wielded by the powerful than the just.
too many of us, too often, are children, playing at make-believe with monopoly money and making up magic words, while what's real in ourselves, and the world around us, languishes, sometimes dies.
after work, i went to happy hour with my running friends. we toasted those who had raced over the weekend, whether they won, or simply competed. the meaningless portion of my day was bookended by my friends, and by my own footsteps in the morning, and today, it all meant even more to me than before.
at 7:45 this morning, i closed the door behind me, and didn't lock it. i've tried in the past to be a morning runner, without any successful consistency, but recently, cooler mornings beckoned and busier evenings pressed.
i was a bit disappointed to find it was still somewhat warm, and definitely as humid as ever, but i went down the stairs and started to run. traffic moved, but it was quiet. it struck me that i was lucky to not have to be at work at eight in the morning. i've been lucky like that before...
five years and one minute earlier, i was as oblivious as anyone as to how the world was about to change. it's become cliche to talk about how the world changed, and maybe there's something purely sentimentalist to think that much changed, in the long, big scheme of things.
but we all know better. life moved on, but something in our minds had changed, for a multitude of reasons, but paramount among them, for the mere shock, the impact of something very large and very real happening.
by 9:02 this morning, i had covered almost a couple of miles, and was moving down past the school, towards zilker park. a couple on bikes nodded as they passed me, pedaling slowly and sedately. an older man in suspenders and a hat watched approvingly as sprinklers gently showered his lawn.
five years earlier, my then-girlfriend chandra yelled. i was in another room of her townhome, waiting to drive us to work. the t.v. was on in the bedroom, and she was standing there, staring.
i came in, moments before 8:03am, 9:03 at tower two, and along with the rest of the world, i saw the horrible punctuation mark at the end of the pre-9/11 world punctuated again.
i ran down barton springs road this morning, past the traffic stacking up to go to work and school, and i thought about how real it had all felt that morning, but yet how unreal it felt later, when we began to realize why it had happened. the reality of death and pain had sprung from things that man has created, artificial things - politics, money, religion that parodies and defiles spirituality, governments and policies that with agendas other than peace and the betterment of humanity.
i got through three miles, and turned south onto lamar boulevard, for the last two miles of my run, a long, uphill grind. i slowed to a walk for a few seconds, then gathered myself and began to run again, metering my breaths, timing them with the cadence of my footfalls.
politics, war, business, most of our jobs for that matter... they're only real because we've made them things that characterize our existence, but they're not essentially or necessarily part of who we are - they're constructs humanity has made up to meet other ends, and often to poorly fill sad little holes in our existence.
running, though, is real. it was there at our beginning, out of need, but i have to imagine that even early humans enjoyed how it felt to move quickly across the earth, maybe to race their friends, or maybe just for the hell of it.
one of my coaches was unabashedly sentimental today, saying he was going to toast all of us tonight, "in honor of our way of life and thanks that we are able to be free to do what we love - run."
i finished the run, went to work, and all day i was reminded of how unreal so much of our world is. business mangles language to create the salable illusion of meaning. our legal system is not about justice, but more a parody of itself, too often a tool better wielded by the powerful than the just.
too many of us, too often, are children, playing at make-believe with monopoly money and making up magic words, while what's real in ourselves, and the world around us, languishes, sometimes dies.
after work, i went to happy hour with my running friends. we toasted those who had raced over the weekend, whether they won, or simply competed. the meaningless portion of my day was bookended by my friends, and by my own footsteps in the morning, and today, it all meant even more to me than before.
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
Just Say No
I posted this last year, and you'll probably see it again. It's a bit dramatic, but it gets me every time...
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Mandy at Starflight 5K
So, while she's on hiatus from running, Mandy is showing up at races doing other stuff -
Always the consumnate professional, even laughing somewhat convincingly at Evil's bad jokes...
She does have new classes starting up, and she won't make you wear, as she describes it, the "&*^%ing Garth Brooks headset mic." If you're interested, drop her a line...
Oh, and sorry, the last line got cut off by a very complex technical issue, specifically, trying to shoot a movie with a camera on a memory card that's full of pictures of drunk people and sleeping cats.
Always the consumnate professional, even laughing somewhat convincingly at Evil's bad jokes...
She does have new classes starting up, and she won't make you wear, as she describes it, the "&*^%ing Garth Brooks headset mic." If you're interested, drop her a line...
Oh, and sorry, the last line got cut off by a very complex technical issue, specifically, trying to shoot a movie with a camera on a memory card that's full of pictures of drunk people and sleeping cats.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Baby Update
No, he is not here yet... However, for those interested, I've started keeping a blog online to keep up with the comings and goings of the Streetman clan.
http://babystreetman.blogspot.com/
I'm not sure if I set it up correctly to leave comments so if you try to leave one and can't let me know (shel@grandecom.net) and I will see where I have screwed up the settings.
http://babystreetman.blogspot.com/
I'm not sure if I set it up correctly to leave comments so if you try to leave one and can't let me know (shel@grandecom.net) and I will see where I have screwed up the settings.
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
So, I am having a casual little get-together at my casa tomorrow night, for whoever would like to come. Yes, it's my birthday and I would like to be around cool peeps - so stop by if you're free. If not, I will see you all at the run on Saturday!
I didn't have everyone's email, so here's a link to the e-vite:
http://www.evite.com/app/publicUrl/stacy.tucker@bakerbotts.com/thingamagig
I didn't have everyone's email, so here's a link to the e-vite:
http://www.evite.com/app/publicUrl/stacy.tucker@bakerbotts.com/thingamagig
Monday, November 12, 2007
Running the Line
I had decided to run Sunday's half marathon in San Antonio at the last minute, just last Tuesday. At first, it looked like it might turn into a field trip with some of my friends from Team Spiridon. That disintegrated quickly, which was for the best - the mileage was too soon for most of the runners.
I even suspected it was too soon for me. I knew I could cover the distance, but I also knew I wouldn't just run it easy. I wanted to break two hours. Lately, I've been passing significant landmarks - finally breaking under 55 minutes (and under 9:00 miles) in the 10K, and under 25 minutes (and under 8:00 miles) in the 5K. It was time to bust two hours open.
Running a 1:59:59 would require averaging 9:10 per mile, just 12 seconds slower than what I was able to maintain to get my 10K time four weeks ago. Last year, I ran my personal best 2:04:03 in San Antonio, just three weeks after the Chicago Marathon, and still feeling the soreness from running through 12 miles of my quadriceps cramping. Weeks after that, I averaged 9:08's for ten miles in San Antonio. I hadn't run a half marathon since San Antonio a year ago, and I hadn't run over 10K at any real pace since the marathon in February.
It was going to be interesting, and I knew it.
All through the week, it was on my mind, and I felt good about it. I decided I would break it up - I'd run the first three miles at 9:10's. I could do that for three miles, for sure. And if I did that, I could certainly keep it up for three more miles. At six, we'd see, but I really felt like I could hammer it out, just try to hold pace through the ninth mile. Then, I figured I'd make a choice, and I thought it would be that I could either hold pace, or even turn it up for three miles. I anticipated still feeling good for that last mile. I began to think of being in the 1:58-1:59 range.
I stayed with Gabby, my coach and good friend, and her husband Nick. Melissa and Kurt, marathon group friends from the past, were staying there, too. We had a nice pasta dinner, talked a bit, and people headed off to bed by 10:00 or so. With everyone else in their rooms, I pinned my number on my shirt, laid everything out for the morning, set one alarm for 5:00am, and a different one for 5:15, then laid down and watched an episode of "30 Rock" on my iPod. Mmm... Tina Fey.
I woke up just a few times. Once, at a little after 11:00, when Carmen shot me a text encouraging me to just pretend a large dog, or an angry Viking with a sword was chasing me. I laughed, and went back to sleep. Another time to go to the restroom. The last time, I reached to my phone to check the time, and it read, "4:59".
The human body is an amazing thing.
There was a text message, too. Another friend had texted me at 4:15am, wishing me luck. I felt good, the nearness of my friends in the next room now joined by her presence.
The ritual - breakfast immediately, two packets of instant oatmeal. Dress. Look through the race packet. Mostly paper, ads for races in San Antonio, the medium tshirt I got because they had run out of my size, and a 4 oz. packet of Mahatma Brown Rice. I was uncertain how to use the 4 oz. packet of Mahatma Brown Rice to my advantage in a half marathon, but I felt I'd know when the time came.
Melissa and Kurt left, and I left just as Gabby and Nick were getting up. They were running the 5K. Gabby's a bad ass - she ran the half last year in a little over 1:30, but she's also five months pregnant, so she was doing the 5K "Fitness Run," which is sort of like Lance Armstrong on a Big Wheel, or making Desmond Tutu secretary of your neighborhood association.
On the drive over, I'm anxious as hell. My stomach hurts with it. Some coach.
I pay $10 to park at the Alamodome, near the finish, bringing this half marathon adventure up to $80, but I'm OK with that, because I doubt I'll do it when it becomes the Rock 'n Roll Marathon next year.
It's about a ten minute walk to the start line at the Alamo. It's 6:45, but I like not being concerned and an hour early for once. Despite my reputation for being late, I'm never late to races. I talk to a woman just coming here from Colorado and Alaska. She's running the half. It puts me a little at ease.
We round a corner to the start area, and wish each other luck. I don't see anyone I know. I know there are friends there, but I'd had the sense we weren't in these adventures together anymore. I have no ill will about that. I deserve some of it, some of it is a matter of circumstance. It's sad, but it's been that kind of year.
And it seems right, almost, to be here alone. So many times this year, usually when I had had a bit to drink, I wanted to go out to the marathon's start line on the Congress Avenue bridge, late at night, toe the line, close my eyes, and push away. I wanted to run the marathon, alone, to be again in a place where there was only one goal, and one way to reach it, and nothing else could matter. Nothing I'd done, nothing anyone else had done, nothing anyone thought or said of me, the people come, the people gone, none of it would matter. I just needed that time, running the lines, watching them slide under my feet.
So, here, in San Antonio, I was finally alone at the start line, ready to make my escape, if only for a couple of hours.
I get up as close as I can to the 4:00 marathon pace group, thinking I might use them to help pace myself to the two hour half.
The sound is not very good, but still, I have to say, for a more conservative city with a strong military presence, Austin is far more respectful duing the national anthem. Here, and most places I've been, even with bad sound, the recognition sweeps back across the crown quickly, followed by near complete silence. In San Antonio, on this Veteran's Day, it was reduced to muffled background music.
We hear cannons go off. I guess that's us. The crowd shuffles forward, and by the time I fall in, I'm with the 4:15 pace group, which is OK. It's gonna be a long morning, plenty of time to catch up.
At the start line, they're playing "Stars and Stripes Forever." Rrrright... It is Veteran's Day, but this is really doing nothing for me.
I feel good. My legs are still not fresh from the hard workout Wednesday night, but they're good enough. The warmth and humidity is a concern - I already feel like it's taking a little more breathing to get the same energy output. But I'm there, and I feel solid, I have a plan, and I'm enjoying the energy of the beginning of a true distance race again.
I feel like I'm trying to fine-tune my pace, trying to gauge it by my breathing. I pass the knee-high mile one sign at 9:11. Again, the human body is an amazing thing.
Mile two comes at 9:08. I still feel like I'm breathing and working just a little too hard at this pace, and I know from experience it could be an issue. But I don't want there to be any questions today, so I stick at the pace.
The knee-high mile markers go invisible for the next couple of miles, which worries me a bit. I've still been trying to adjust to the pace, and I like to keep tabs on it.
The races in San Antonio have been funny to me. The generally sparse crowds were better this year, but coming from an unusually active and fit place like Austin, San Antonio has a different vibe. The races are a little more... quaint.
Apparently to prove this point, a motorcycle cop came cruising straight up the middle of the pack today. Usually, they'll come up the sides, using their loudspeaker or even siren to budge runners over as necessary. But, no, this guy just motored right through us. Who knows, maybe he wasn't even working the race, and didn't know about it - "They're everywhere... they're mostly skinny, all sweaty... Oh my God, he's got a Gu! Officer sticky! Repeat, officer sticky!"
This is what goes on in my brain, pretty much all the time, but especially when running. This is either a good reason or a bad one for me to run.
At mile four or so, my brain's working away, I'm still trying to find a sweet spot with my breathing, and I get a call. In my head.
"Yeah, this is Doug, down in left hamstring."
"Oh. Hey. What's up?"
"You know, just expanding and contracting... same old, same old."
"Ah, great, yeah, thanks for that. Ever hear from the guys down in the calves?"
"No, man, those guys are freaks. Between you and me and the glutes, I think they're not all that bright, really."
"Hm. Right. So, listen, I'm kinda busy right now, so like, uh... what the hell do you want?"
"Yeah, I just wanted to let you know... I'm looking at this work order, and it says we're running a half marathon again?"
"Yeah, that's right."
"Huh. Yeah, man, that's just not something we're into right now, so I'm gonna have to go ahead and send some pain signals now, and maybe, you know, just tighten it up some."
"Well, that's great man. I don't suppose I can change your OW! What the f*ck, dude?"
"Yeah, there ya go."
"Thanks, Doug, I'm hanging up now. Go f*ck yourself, OK?"
"Right back at you, as-"
Click.
Fine. I've ignored it before. It's been worse. Big freakin' deal.
Somewhere in about the fourth mile, the 4:15 pace group passes us. I'm still a bit lost on my time, but I know they are running far over their pace.
We turn a corner, and the guys in front of me are saying something about the hill. I hadn't really noticed, and I'm once again glad to be from Austin.
I finally get a mile marker at mile five, and I have 27:19 on the watch - I averaged 9:06 for the last three miles.
Somewhere here, we dipped into downtown proper again, and for a brief moment, there's a flashback to Chicago, only with about 42,000 less runners, and tens of thousands less spectators. Still, I'm impressed that there's decent crowds in a couple of corners. They're a little quiet in parts, but they're San Antonio people, some of the loudest and most excited fans in the NBA. They're easily encouraged, and they respond.
The crowd gives me a short boost, but I'm struggling a bit. For some reason, I've been feeling flushed for a couple of miles, a little overheated. I've never felt this way quite this early, but I still have those three mile goals in my head, and I'm, getting through six. I start to get thoughts about what I'll do after that, though.
9:18 through mile six. I keep moving, but I can't deny what I knew to be the case earlier - the pace was slightly too fast today. My legs are burning up quick, and things are hurting earlier and a bit more than they should. Now, I think I've never wanted to quit a race so badly.
Despite a hard effort to just hold pace, I slip to a 9:26 through mile seven. A little boost, maybe from the energy gel, and I get through mile eight in 9:18. I'm still thinking I just need to get to mile nine, then... I don't know... maybe I'd miraculously feel better?
Then I just slam into what I would call a wall, if I didn't know it couldn't have been "the wall" that runners speak of. Let's go with a solid, unyielding barrier. I stop, something I haven't had to do in a half marathon in a long time. I'm a little dizzy. My chest has been achy and tired for a while, now.
I walk for about a minute or two, then try to get running again. It's fits and starts for a few minutes. Mile nine takes me 10:36. I'm tired and hurting enough that I don't really feel like taking my gel, but I do.
I'n genuinely hurting, and I had pushed myself pretty long and deep into discomfort, but I realize I had lost touch with the way I felt in the marathons and half marathons before. It's been a while, and I wonder if I'm mentally as strong as I was back in February, or last year.
But I'm very conscious that I have a group of people that I'm responsible for, that I've been pushing. If I quit, what would that do to my credibility, or their belief in what I'm trying to get some of them to understand about themselves? So, I absolutely have to keep moving.
I pick up a little bit with some gradual downhills, on the return trip along the out-and-back - 9:45 for the tenth mile.
Now I have three miles left. I know I can't do much better than ten minute miles, and that isn't going to get me there in under two hours. Tens would probably not even get me close enough to beating my personal record, and though I keep trying to push the pace back up, my body won't respond completely. 10:47 for the eleventh mile.
Mandy's friend Shauna passes me and says hi. She was running it alone, too. I think she had wanted to meet up at the start and run together, but she was likely to run a good deal faster than even my 9:10 pace. As it turns out, I might have done better running with her. She looks strong and relatively pain-free, though she had a tough day in the humidity, too.
The calves have been making themselves heard anytime I try to pick up the pace, threatening to cramp. I thought about Wednesday night's hill workout, the "Figger Eights", the abomination that I had concocted and put everyone through. I curse my coach silently, but, you know, I'm right there.
It's amazing, how you can have two miles left, and how much you can still want to quit. I mean, you often sort of want to quit, but I mean seriously thinking, "I've gotta stop". I try to think of it as a two-mile time trial, that grueling test of mental toughness. That doesn't help very much. I still want to stop. I still know I can't. I keep thinking about Team Spiridon, and about our motto - "I will be proof." I don't want people to see that motto walking, beaten.
I keep going. I pick up to 10:36 through mile 12.
The last mile. A girl on a curb, half a mile out, not able to finish, an ambulance on the way.
Three hundred meters to the turn towards the Alamodome, and I'm having to break it up, I'm running from one street sign to the next, 30-40 feet at a time. People line the last two hundred meters to the dome, and they're cheering, and I try to pick it up a bit. The calves try to cramp, so I'm lurching a bit to run faster.
The finish is great - down the loading ramp, and it opens up into the dome. I'm trying to get a sprint, and I speed up, but there's just nothing left.
Through the finish, and I'm just trying to stay up. I get my medal, and some friends are at the finish. Shauna's there, too.
Shauna hangs out with me. I lay down for a bit, then we get some food and multiple Alamo beers. We take pictures, talk, hang out there for about an hour, say our goodbyes, and I'm driving back to Austin.
11:47 for the last mile and a tenth, 2:07:24 overall. Two hours still taunts me, and the personal record stands. I'm OK with it, though.
I hadn't pushed myself that hard over a larger distance for a long time. I feel like it was one of my hardest races ever, which at first I chalk up to the immediacy of it, and to me being a little out of touch with it all.
But I realize that I pushed myself harder, for longer, than I ever really had, even though I didn't have much of a result to show for it. Some of that is weather - I've been spoiled, with every race 10 miles or longer for the last two years being in the 40's, or colder.
But, this is why we need to run races, to develop and maintain that edge, that familiarity with our ability to handle pain and adversity. I also know that we still still have 14 weeks of training before the marathon. We're in a phase where we're building strength and serious mileage, and we'll be doing more work on running at pace. I also now have a sense of the adjustments I need to make, in my training, and in my mental makeup, if I'm going to have better days.
I also really appreciate the role you guys played in getting me through the race. Sure, it was partially about avoiding shame and hypocrisy, but I also thought about all the times you're going to be faced with similar difficulties, and similar choices, and all the times you'll choose to keep running. Again, that's why we do this. When you hit those points, and you think you're about to make a choice you might not be happy with later, remember that you owe me a few.
I even suspected it was too soon for me. I knew I could cover the distance, but I also knew I wouldn't just run it easy. I wanted to break two hours. Lately, I've been passing significant landmarks - finally breaking under 55 minutes (and under 9:00 miles) in the 10K, and under 25 minutes (and under 8:00 miles) in the 5K. It was time to bust two hours open.
Running a 1:59:59 would require averaging 9:10 per mile, just 12 seconds slower than what I was able to maintain to get my 10K time four weeks ago. Last year, I ran my personal best 2:04:03 in San Antonio, just three weeks after the Chicago Marathon, and still feeling the soreness from running through 12 miles of my quadriceps cramping. Weeks after that, I averaged 9:08's for ten miles in San Antonio. I hadn't run a half marathon since San Antonio a year ago, and I hadn't run over 10K at any real pace since the marathon in February.
It was going to be interesting, and I knew it.
All through the week, it was on my mind, and I felt good about it. I decided I would break it up - I'd run the first three miles at 9:10's. I could do that for three miles, for sure. And if I did that, I could certainly keep it up for three more miles. At six, we'd see, but I really felt like I could hammer it out, just try to hold pace through the ninth mile. Then, I figured I'd make a choice, and I thought it would be that I could either hold pace, or even turn it up for three miles. I anticipated still feeling good for that last mile. I began to think of being in the 1:58-1:59 range.
I stayed with Gabby, my coach and good friend, and her husband Nick. Melissa and Kurt, marathon group friends from the past, were staying there, too. We had a nice pasta dinner, talked a bit, and people headed off to bed by 10:00 or so. With everyone else in their rooms, I pinned my number on my shirt, laid everything out for the morning, set one alarm for 5:00am, and a different one for 5:15, then laid down and watched an episode of "30 Rock" on my iPod. Mmm... Tina Fey.
I woke up just a few times. Once, at a little after 11:00, when Carmen shot me a text encouraging me to just pretend a large dog, or an angry Viking with a sword was chasing me. I laughed, and went back to sleep. Another time to go to the restroom. The last time, I reached to my phone to check the time, and it read, "4:59".
The human body is an amazing thing.
There was a text message, too. Another friend had texted me at 4:15am, wishing me luck. I felt good, the nearness of my friends in the next room now joined by her presence.
The ritual - breakfast immediately, two packets of instant oatmeal. Dress. Look through the race packet. Mostly paper, ads for races in San Antonio, the medium tshirt I got because they had run out of my size, and a 4 oz. packet of Mahatma Brown Rice. I was uncertain how to use the 4 oz. packet of Mahatma Brown Rice to my advantage in a half marathon, but I felt I'd know when the time came.
Melissa and Kurt left, and I left just as Gabby and Nick were getting up. They were running the 5K. Gabby's a bad ass - she ran the half last year in a little over 1:30, but she's also five months pregnant, so she was doing the 5K "Fitness Run," which is sort of like Lance Armstrong on a Big Wheel, or making Desmond Tutu secretary of your neighborhood association.
On the drive over, I'm anxious as hell. My stomach hurts with it. Some coach.
I pay $10 to park at the Alamodome, near the finish, bringing this half marathon adventure up to $80, but I'm OK with that, because I doubt I'll do it when it becomes the Rock 'n Roll Marathon next year.
It's about a ten minute walk to the start line at the Alamo. It's 6:45, but I like not being concerned and an hour early for once. Despite my reputation for being late, I'm never late to races. I talk to a woman just coming here from Colorado and Alaska. She's running the half. It puts me a little at ease.
We round a corner to the start area, and wish each other luck. I don't see anyone I know. I know there are friends there, but I'd had the sense we weren't in these adventures together anymore. I have no ill will about that. I deserve some of it, some of it is a matter of circumstance. It's sad, but it's been that kind of year.
And it seems right, almost, to be here alone. So many times this year, usually when I had had a bit to drink, I wanted to go out to the marathon's start line on the Congress Avenue bridge, late at night, toe the line, close my eyes, and push away. I wanted to run the marathon, alone, to be again in a place where there was only one goal, and one way to reach it, and nothing else could matter. Nothing I'd done, nothing anyone else had done, nothing anyone thought or said of me, the people come, the people gone, none of it would matter. I just needed that time, running the lines, watching them slide under my feet.
So, here, in San Antonio, I was finally alone at the start line, ready to make my escape, if only for a couple of hours.
I get up as close as I can to the 4:00 marathon pace group, thinking I might use them to help pace myself to the two hour half.
The sound is not very good, but still, I have to say, for a more conservative city with a strong military presence, Austin is far more respectful duing the national anthem. Here, and most places I've been, even with bad sound, the recognition sweeps back across the crown quickly, followed by near complete silence. In San Antonio, on this Veteran's Day, it was reduced to muffled background music.
We hear cannons go off. I guess that's us. The crowd shuffles forward, and by the time I fall in, I'm with the 4:15 pace group, which is OK. It's gonna be a long morning, plenty of time to catch up.
At the start line, they're playing "Stars and Stripes Forever." Rrrright... It is Veteran's Day, but this is really doing nothing for me.
I feel good. My legs are still not fresh from the hard workout Wednesday night, but they're good enough. The warmth and humidity is a concern - I already feel like it's taking a little more breathing to get the same energy output. But I'm there, and I feel solid, I have a plan, and I'm enjoying the energy of the beginning of a true distance race again.
I feel like I'm trying to fine-tune my pace, trying to gauge it by my breathing. I pass the knee-high mile one sign at 9:11. Again, the human body is an amazing thing.
Mile two comes at 9:08. I still feel like I'm breathing and working just a little too hard at this pace, and I know from experience it could be an issue. But I don't want there to be any questions today, so I stick at the pace.
The knee-high mile markers go invisible for the next couple of miles, which worries me a bit. I've still been trying to adjust to the pace, and I like to keep tabs on it.
The races in San Antonio have been funny to me. The generally sparse crowds were better this year, but coming from an unusually active and fit place like Austin, San Antonio has a different vibe. The races are a little more... quaint.
Apparently to prove this point, a motorcycle cop came cruising straight up the middle of the pack today. Usually, they'll come up the sides, using their loudspeaker or even siren to budge runners over as necessary. But, no, this guy just motored right through us. Who knows, maybe he wasn't even working the race, and didn't know about it - "They're everywhere... they're mostly skinny, all sweaty... Oh my God, he's got a Gu! Officer sticky! Repeat, officer sticky!"
This is what goes on in my brain, pretty much all the time, but especially when running. This is either a good reason or a bad one for me to run.
At mile four or so, my brain's working away, I'm still trying to find a sweet spot with my breathing, and I get a call. In my head.
"Yeah, this is Doug, down in left hamstring."
"Oh. Hey. What's up?"
"You know, just expanding and contracting... same old, same old."
"Ah, great, yeah, thanks for that. Ever hear from the guys down in the calves?"
"No, man, those guys are freaks. Between you and me and the glutes, I think they're not all that bright, really."
"Hm. Right. So, listen, I'm kinda busy right now, so like, uh... what the hell do you want?"
"Yeah, I just wanted to let you know... I'm looking at this work order, and it says we're running a half marathon again?"
"Yeah, that's right."
"Huh. Yeah, man, that's just not something we're into right now, so I'm gonna have to go ahead and send some pain signals now, and maybe, you know, just tighten it up some."
"Well, that's great man. I don't suppose I can change your OW! What the f*ck, dude?"
"Yeah, there ya go."
"Thanks, Doug, I'm hanging up now. Go f*ck yourself, OK?"
"Right back at you, as-"
Click.
Fine. I've ignored it before. It's been worse. Big freakin' deal.
Somewhere in about the fourth mile, the 4:15 pace group passes us. I'm still a bit lost on my time, but I know they are running far over their pace.
We turn a corner, and the guys in front of me are saying something about the hill. I hadn't really noticed, and I'm once again glad to be from Austin.
I finally get a mile marker at mile five, and I have 27:19 on the watch - I averaged 9:06 for the last three miles.
Somewhere here, we dipped into downtown proper again, and for a brief moment, there's a flashback to Chicago, only with about 42,000 less runners, and tens of thousands less spectators. Still, I'm impressed that there's decent crowds in a couple of corners. They're a little quiet in parts, but they're San Antonio people, some of the loudest and most excited fans in the NBA. They're easily encouraged, and they respond.
The crowd gives me a short boost, but I'm struggling a bit. For some reason, I've been feeling flushed for a couple of miles, a little overheated. I've never felt this way quite this early, but I still have those three mile goals in my head, and I'm, getting through six. I start to get thoughts about what I'll do after that, though.
9:18 through mile six. I keep moving, but I can't deny what I knew to be the case earlier - the pace was slightly too fast today. My legs are burning up quick, and things are hurting earlier and a bit more than they should. Now, I think I've never wanted to quit a race so badly.
Despite a hard effort to just hold pace, I slip to a 9:26 through mile seven. A little boost, maybe from the energy gel, and I get through mile eight in 9:18. I'm still thinking I just need to get to mile nine, then... I don't know... maybe I'd miraculously feel better?
Then I just slam into what I would call a wall, if I didn't know it couldn't have been "the wall" that runners speak of. Let's go with a solid, unyielding barrier. I stop, something I haven't had to do in a half marathon in a long time. I'm a little dizzy. My chest has been achy and tired for a while, now.
I walk for about a minute or two, then try to get running again. It's fits and starts for a few minutes. Mile nine takes me 10:36. I'm tired and hurting enough that I don't really feel like taking my gel, but I do.
I'n genuinely hurting, and I had pushed myself pretty long and deep into discomfort, but I realize I had lost touch with the way I felt in the marathons and half marathons before. It's been a while, and I wonder if I'm mentally as strong as I was back in February, or last year.
But I'm very conscious that I have a group of people that I'm responsible for, that I've been pushing. If I quit, what would that do to my credibility, or their belief in what I'm trying to get some of them to understand about themselves? So, I absolutely have to keep moving.
I pick up a little bit with some gradual downhills, on the return trip along the out-and-back - 9:45 for the tenth mile.
Now I have three miles left. I know I can't do much better than ten minute miles, and that isn't going to get me there in under two hours. Tens would probably not even get me close enough to beating my personal record, and though I keep trying to push the pace back up, my body won't respond completely. 10:47 for the eleventh mile.
Mandy's friend Shauna passes me and says hi. She was running it alone, too. I think she had wanted to meet up at the start and run together, but she was likely to run a good deal faster than even my 9:10 pace. As it turns out, I might have done better running with her. She looks strong and relatively pain-free, though she had a tough day in the humidity, too.
The calves have been making themselves heard anytime I try to pick up the pace, threatening to cramp. I thought about Wednesday night's hill workout, the "Figger Eights", the abomination that I had concocted and put everyone through. I curse my coach silently, but, you know, I'm right there.
It's amazing, how you can have two miles left, and how much you can still want to quit. I mean, you often sort of want to quit, but I mean seriously thinking, "I've gotta stop". I try to think of it as a two-mile time trial, that grueling test of mental toughness. That doesn't help very much. I still want to stop. I still know I can't. I keep thinking about Team Spiridon, and about our motto - "I will be proof." I don't want people to see that motto walking, beaten.
I keep going. I pick up to 10:36 through mile 12.
The last mile. A girl on a curb, half a mile out, not able to finish, an ambulance on the way.
Three hundred meters to the turn towards the Alamodome, and I'm having to break it up, I'm running from one street sign to the next, 30-40 feet at a time. People line the last two hundred meters to the dome, and they're cheering, and I try to pick it up a bit. The calves try to cramp, so I'm lurching a bit to run faster.
The finish is great - down the loading ramp, and it opens up into the dome. I'm trying to get a sprint, and I speed up, but there's just nothing left.
Through the finish, and I'm just trying to stay up. I get my medal, and some friends are at the finish. Shauna's there, too.
Shauna hangs out with me. I lay down for a bit, then we get some food and multiple Alamo beers. We take pictures, talk, hang out there for about an hour, say our goodbyes, and I'm driving back to Austin.
11:47 for the last mile and a tenth, 2:07:24 overall. Two hours still taunts me, and the personal record stands. I'm OK with it, though.
I hadn't pushed myself that hard over a larger distance for a long time. I feel like it was one of my hardest races ever, which at first I chalk up to the immediacy of it, and to me being a little out of touch with it all.
But I realize that I pushed myself harder, for longer, than I ever really had, even though I didn't have much of a result to show for it. Some of that is weather - I've been spoiled, with every race 10 miles or longer for the last two years being in the 40's, or colder.
But, this is why we need to run races, to develop and maintain that edge, that familiarity with our ability to handle pain and adversity. I also know that we still still have 14 weeks of training before the marathon. We're in a phase where we're building strength and serious mileage, and we'll be doing more work on running at pace. I also now have a sense of the adjustments I need to make, in my training, and in my mental makeup, if I'm going to have better days.
I also really appreciate the role you guys played in getting me through the race. Sure, it was partially about avoiding shame and hypocrisy, but I also thought about all the times you're going to be faced with similar difficulties, and similar choices, and all the times you'll choose to keep running. Again, that's why we do this. When you hit those points, and you think you're about to make a choice you might not be happy with later, remember that you owe me a few.
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
Off to the races...
Well, not on foot really... but races none the less! As some of you may know, I will be competing in the Rolex International Women's Keelboat Championship next week down in Galveston Bay. A few people have asked me for more information on the race, so I thought I would post some links here. I will be competing as a part of a three woman crew against 41 other all-women teams from all over the United States, along with a few international teams from Canada, South Africa, and the B.V.I.'s. The Rolex event will be really snazzy - I heard some gossip that Rolex is bringing in new furniture for the Houston Yacht Club during the event, because what was there didn't meet their standards. And the HYC is already a really really nice facility. I was there for the District Circuit Regatta this past weekend and had a chance to check out the local scene.
Here is general information on the race: http://www.riwkc.com/
The competition for this event will be stiff, including America's Cup Veterans, and cross-training Olympian teams. Here's a preview of some of the rockstars whose dirty air we will probably be eating: http://www.ussailing.org/pressreleases/2007/riwkcpreview1.asp
Daily race results will be posted here: http://www.riwkc.com/index.php?pageID=3
To find out how we are doing in the standing each day look for out boat, "Dea Latis" - she will be listed as bow number 34/ sail number 984. Our skipper's name is Renee Ruais. "Dea Latis" is the Irish Goddess of Water and Beer, my skipper figured her an ideal patron to watch over our water-loving, beer-loving sail addiction.
And there will also be a daily photo gallery: http://www.riwkc.com/index.php?pageID=73 On top of the daily races, there are cocktail parties every evening, including some sort of hay ride and a private party at the Nasa space center. So instead of Run, Drink, Repeat, I will be taking a week to Sail, Drink, Repeat. I will miss you all though! Best of luck to everyone on your runs while I am gone!
Here is general information on the race: http://www.riwkc.com/
The competition for this event will be stiff, including America's Cup Veterans, and cross-training Olympian teams. Here's a preview of some of the rockstars whose dirty air we will probably be eating: http://www.ussailing.org/pressreleases/2007/riwkcpreview1.asp
Daily race results will be posted here: http://www.riwkc.com/index.php?pageID=3
To find out how we are doing in the standing each day look for out boat, "Dea Latis" - she will be listed as bow number 34/ sail number 984. Our skipper's name is Renee Ruais. "Dea Latis" is the Irish Goddess of Water and Beer, my skipper figured her an ideal patron to watch over our water-loving, beer-loving sail addiction.
And there will also be a daily photo gallery: http://www.riwkc.com/index.php?pageID=73 On top of the daily races, there are cocktail parties every evening, including some sort of hay ride and a private party at the Nasa space center. So instead of Run, Drink, Repeat, I will be taking a week to Sail, Drink, Repeat. I will miss you all though! Best of luck to everyone on your runs while I am gone!
Monday, October 29, 2007
Happy Halloween!
So, sadly, this ad apparently caused a lot of controversy, which I think is pretty stupid, really... I think the ad is funny and non-offensive.
And no, they didn't find some random hot actress to be in it. That's Suzy Favor-Hamilton, three-time Olympian, multiple US record holder, and the top-ranked U.S. female runner from 1989-2002. And tough? This, from her website:
I think clearly, she could kick Jason's ass, or at least outrun it. Thoughts?
And no, they didn't find some random hot actress to be in it. That's Suzy Favor-Hamilton, three-time Olympian, multiple US record holder, and the top-ranked U.S. female runner from 1989-2002. And tough? This, from her website:
She was leading with 100m to go in the Sydney Olympic final when she collapsed, only to get up and finish 12th. After originally being diagnosed with dehydration symptoms, it was later discovered that Suzy had been running with a broken ischium bone.
I think clearly, she could kick Jason's ass, or at least outrun it. Thoughts?
Monday, October 22, 2007
Aids Walk Sunday
My friend Katryn's parents both died of AIDS in the 80s. I know this isn't a run, but it is a good cause, and I will be out there on Sunday to support her and ASA. Here is a letter from her.
Twenty years ago, we saw tapered stonewash jeans, the marriage of Demi Moore and Bruce Willis and the fall of the Berlin Wall.
It was also, however, a momentous year in the AIDS movement. In 1987: Ronald Regan first publicly acknowledged the AIDS virus, the public blood supply began routine testing, condom ads first emerged on television, AIDS Services of Austin first opened its doors due to the increasing prevalence of HIV in Central Texas, the first AIDS Walk Austin was held to memorialize and to raise much-needed funds, and my father was diagnosed with and died of AIDS.
Today, some things have changed. Well over a million people are living in this country with HIV. It’s a public health crisis unlike any we’ve seen before. We can’t change the history of this epidemic, but we can do our part to be community heroes and to affect our future and that of our children.
I ask you to consider supporting me in my AIDS Walk campaign this year. You can contribute online or come out to the Walk next Sunday and support the cause in person.
Thank you so much for your support. With a little commitment and a lot of passion, WE CAN BE HEROES.
Katryn
View my interview on Fox 7 about the 20th Anniversary AIDS Walk Austin.
Contribute to my AIDS Walk Fundraising Campaign.
Friday, October 19, 2007
This Is Why You Don't Stop Short
Not that any of us are in danger of this situation, but it just goes to show you - you gotta stay aware of what's happening around you, and of course, "it ain't over 'til it's over..."
Thursday, October 4, 2007
Town Lake After Work Today?
Is anyone interested in running on the Town Lake Trail a little after 6:00 pm tonight? I'm planning on putting in at least 4 miles, and wouldn't mind company. If you're intrested give me a hollar-back and we can figure out where to meet.
Monday, October 1, 2007
Smelly Question
Serious but embarrassing question: Does anyone know of a good antiperspirant/deodorant for runners? Preferably tailored to the female runner?
Degree has been my go-to brand for the past 10+ years, but since I've started running higher mileages- it just hasn't been cutting it. I've tried a few other brands, but they all pretty much suck as well.
Thoughts... ladies? Buellar?
Thanks in advance! ;o)
Degree has been my go-to brand for the past 10+ years, but since I've started running higher mileages- it just hasn't been cutting it. I've tried a few other brands, but they all pretty much suck as well.
Thoughts... ladies? Buellar?
Thanks in advance! ;o)
Friday, September 28, 2007
Komen 5k in November
Freescale (where I work) is hosting a team for the Komen Race in November. They are offering a 50% discount to the first 600 people to sign up on their team. They invite employees, family and friends to join the team so I am extending this out to the running family.
Let me know if you are interested. I will forward the discount code to you along with my work number so they can track which employee you "belong" to. FSL usually offers up a shirt as well, which they encourage people to wear on race day, although that is not a requirement.
As far as packet pickup for this goes, the FSL team coordinator will pickup all of the race bibs and will distribute them to the employees. If you want yours mailed to you by Komen, you are free to do that as well. We usually get the bibs on the Friday before the race so I can meet everyone on Saturday morning for the "normal" Saturday run and hand out the bibs/shirts/etc.
Michele
Let me know if you are interested. I will forward the discount code to you along with my work number so they can track which employee you "belong" to. FSL usually offers up a shirt as well, which they encourage people to wear on race day, although that is not a requirement.
As far as packet pickup for this goes, the FSL team coordinator will pickup all of the race bibs and will distribute them to the employees. If you want yours mailed to you by Komen, you are free to do that as well. We usually get the bibs on the Friday before the race so I can meet everyone on Saturday morning for the "normal" Saturday run and hand out the bibs/shirts/etc.
Michele
Sunday, September 23, 2007
Just say no
All love to Adidas and ASICS, but Nike ads, man... they just get to you. This one's a little odd, and hard to follow, but we all know the conversation.
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Thursday, September 6, 2007
Announcements!
Wow, there's lots of important stuff happening.
As she announced on the Team Spiridon site yesterday, Michelle Streetman is with child. Congratulations, Michelle and Paul! Paul will apparently have to run enough for both of you - he was planning on training for the half marathon, so I guess now he has to run the full.
Joey Reyes is also about to have a kid - ETA is Sunday morning, I think. I meant to give him a shout-out a week ago for being called into service by the Army (Army, am I right, Joey? I know you people are touchy about getting the branch wrong) to help with people that might have gotten displaced by Hurricane Dean. You already did your time in Iraq, and you're still there when you're needed - we appreciate that.
I do have to say that for a chopper pilot, you seem to have a horrible time finding things when you're on the ground...
Some of us have been watching a good friend (and her husband) go through a lot to have and keep a kid. I don't want to be too out of line, but for her sake, I want to say that even when it's a surprise, I know better now what a lucky, fortunate thing it is. So really, congratulations to you guys.
Finally, Upstart Carmen is having a party this Saturday night, and we're all invited.
Saturday, 9:00pm
1708 East Sixth
parking at 1707 East Sixth
Carmen's cell is 775-6650
As she announced on the Team Spiridon site yesterday, Michelle Streetman is with child. Congratulations, Michelle and Paul! Paul will apparently have to run enough for both of you - he was planning on training for the half marathon, so I guess now he has to run the full.
Joey Reyes is also about to have a kid - ETA is Sunday morning, I think. I meant to give him a shout-out a week ago for being called into service by the Army (Army, am I right, Joey? I know you people are touchy about getting the branch wrong) to help with people that might have gotten displaced by Hurricane Dean. You already did your time in Iraq, and you're still there when you're needed - we appreciate that.
I do have to say that for a chopper pilot, you seem to have a horrible time finding things when you're on the ground...
Some of us have been watching a good friend (and her husband) go through a lot to have and keep a kid. I don't want to be too out of line, but for her sake, I want to say that even when it's a surprise, I know better now what a lucky, fortunate thing it is. So really, congratulations to you guys.
Finally, Upstart Carmen is having a party this Saturday night, and we're all invited.
Saturday, 9:00pm
1708 East Sixth
parking at 1707 East Sixth
Carmen's cell is 775-6650
Wednesday, September 5, 2007
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