Saturday, February 19, 2011
Woolley Trail Runs 50k
The effort to get in shape continues. Probably should stop eating some food groups, like the junk food group. In the meantime, I'm going to try to bump up the distance, and hopefully the weather will get better, and the world will be filled with happiness.
Today I ran the Woolley Runs 50k, a Terry Sentinella production. Thank you Terry and your all star cast of volunteers. It occurred to me that at least half the volunteers, all very cool peeps, are 100 miler finishers. That's sort of zaney. Everyone smiled so well--it seemed like there was a lot of good will out there on this day. Again, thanks!
It was pretty cold at the start--I probably could see my breath. The hills have snow on them, and I never took off my lightweight jacket. Over 100 people showed up. Chip timing. Cool coins to the finishers. Three different distances. Barbq at the finish. $25.
The course is flat. Really flat. On the drive home I realized there wasn't even a dip on this course. Not one. A cool little stretch of stream crossing, where the feet did get wet. The course starts in Sedro-Woolley and goes upriver to Birdsview (near the Baker Lake turnoff). And back. Four aid stations times two.
I loved it. It was a gorgeous day, with the beautiful river, icy creeks, many bridges, horses and buffalo, good friends and new friends.
I ran ok. Six minutes slower than last year, and I didn't stop at the Tavern this year. I was more focused by this time last year, and so I'll take it, and just keep at it. Music on the way back helped--haven't been doing that lately. Random on the shuffle leads to weird mixes, like Rage, Linkin Park, and then LeAnn Womack.
Friday, February 18, 2011
Desert Island Discs
"Greatest Hits", "Anthologies", and "Collections" (Gold, Essential, Platinum, or otherwise) are not allowed on desert islands. Compilations and Box Sets are out too. They drowned. Live albums are very suspect.
Also, there are no ipods or ipads on the Island—only a record player with two big speakers purchased from a van in the back of a Safeway parking lot. You use the speakers as a raft to save you from the wreckage of your submarine, and to escape Charles Widmore. Unfortunately, you had to use Abbey Road and Revolver as paddles.
So, here are the records that made it:
Rumours –Fleetwood Mac
Car Wheels on A Gravel Road-Lucinda Williams
Full Moon Fever-Tom Petty
Fox Confessor Brings the Flood-Neko Case
Running On Empty-Jackson Browne
Blood On The Tracks-Bob Dylan
The Woods-Sleater-Kinney
Pet Sounds-The Beach Boys
Parallel Lines-Blondie
Teaser and the Firecat-Cat Stevens
Note: I may or may not have a second desert island, just like they had in Lost.
Also, there are no ipods or ipads on the Island—only a record player with two big speakers purchased from a van in the back of a Safeway parking lot. You use the speakers as a raft to save you from the wreckage of your submarine, and to escape Charles Widmore. Unfortunately, you had to use Abbey Road and Revolver as paddles.
So, here are the records that made it:
Rumours –Fleetwood Mac
Car Wheels on A Gravel Road-Lucinda Williams
Full Moon Fever-Tom Petty
Fox Confessor Brings the Flood-Neko Case
Running On Empty-Jackson Browne
Blood On The Tracks-Bob Dylan
The Woods-Sleater-Kinney
Pet Sounds-The Beach Boys
Parallel Lines-Blondie
Teaser and the Firecat-Cat Stevens
Note: I may or may not have a second desert island, just like they had in Lost.
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Fever
Whenever I hear the word "fever" I think of the old Peggy Lee song. Or Bieber Fever, lately. Unfortunately, it seems I have a real live fever this weekend, and it officially sucks. It's pretty rare that I don't go out and do some sort of run or hike on a Saturday, but today I was parked with a book next to a heater.
The book, Deepness in the Sky, was sort of lame. It is a sci-fi paperback where this evolving race of spiders outthinks two different human races--some Space Nazis and some Space Peddlers. I can't believe I stuck with this schlock to the end, but it was a Hugo Award Sci-Fi book of the year ten or fifteen years ago, and it started out ok. Since I seem to be wasting the day away, I'll probably watch Machete next. I've heard good things.
I felt my present ill sickness coming on around last Tuesday. Depsite the symptoms--swollen glands, dry mouth--I went ahead and ran nine or so in 30 degree weather. Probably a dumb move. However, I am so ready to start pushing the mileage up. Apparently the body and the weather are not cooperating. Thursday was a tough day in the office, coughing violently and yet trying to tend to necessary matters. Friday was marginally better.
On the subject of pneumonia, I read this really really amazing piece in the New Yorker from about a month ago. Joyce Carol Oates is a well known, prolific writer-- I believe the in-residence writer at Princeton (sort of like Einstein was there for math). She wrote a "Personal History" for the magazine (my favorite, btw), and it was about her husband of forty years. Basically, he didn't feel good one day, and he went to the hospital, and a respiratory infection type complication caused his heart to stop about a week later. When I started reading, I thought it was a fiction, as that's what Oates writes. It was a powerful piece--one of the most memorable articles I've read in the magazine in twenty years.
Not that I have this kind of worry. But, as much as I want to run this weekend, you got to know when to hold them, and know when to fold them. Kenny Rogers said that. So I'm staying home and watching Robert Rodriguez movies and reading bad books.
Maybe I'll sneak around a mountain tomorrow.
The book, Deepness in the Sky, was sort of lame. It is a sci-fi paperback where this evolving race of spiders outthinks two different human races--some Space Nazis and some Space Peddlers. I can't believe I stuck with this schlock to the end, but it was a Hugo Award Sci-Fi book of the year ten or fifteen years ago, and it started out ok. Since I seem to be wasting the day away, I'll probably watch Machete next. I've heard good things.
I felt my present ill sickness coming on around last Tuesday. Depsite the symptoms--swollen glands, dry mouth--I went ahead and ran nine or so in 30 degree weather. Probably a dumb move. However, I am so ready to start pushing the mileage up. Apparently the body and the weather are not cooperating. Thursday was a tough day in the office, coughing violently and yet trying to tend to necessary matters. Friday was marginally better.
On the subject of pneumonia, I read this really really amazing piece in the New Yorker from about a month ago. Joyce Carol Oates is a well known, prolific writer-- I believe the in-residence writer at Princeton (sort of like Einstein was there for math). She wrote a "Personal History" for the magazine (my favorite, btw), and it was about her husband of forty years. Basically, he didn't feel good one day, and he went to the hospital, and a respiratory infection type complication caused his heart to stop about a week later. When I started reading, I thought it was a fiction, as that's what Oates writes. It was a powerful piece--one of the most memorable articles I've read in the magazine in twenty years.
Not that I have this kind of worry. But, as much as I want to run this weekend, you got to know when to hold them, and know when to fold them. Kenny Rogers said that. So I'm staying home and watching Robert Rodriguez movies and reading bad books.
Maybe I'll sneak around a mountain tomorrow.
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Orcas Island 50k
Tough race, gorgeous place. I think what I like most about the Orcas Island 50k is how excited everyone gets about it. All the Facebook posts and tweets, the emails--there's just a lot of good energy leading up to the race, sort of like kids awaiting Christmas. As usual, James and his crackerjack team of AS operators did a great job in making it a fun and challenging event for everyone. And I use the term "event" purposely--Orcas is more than a race or run--it's a bit of a gathering.
Lots and lots of tough climbs, as expected. Maybe 8k in climb, 33 miles? The powerlines in particular were "special." I struggled most of the day. I didn't come to the event with enough focus or fitness. The fitness will come, sort of, as I suppose I'm now suitably motivated. The focus comes and goes for me. I suppose I'll have to pick an event where I try to get from the start to the finish as fast as I can someday. It wasn't going to be yesterday.
The weather was kind of funky on Saturday. The temps were probably in the 40s, but felt pretty cold at times, and especially near the top of Mt. Constitution. I eventually pulled out my light windbreaker and gloves at the Mountain Lake waterstation, and I felt a lot better thereafter. Sometimes I need to pay attention more to when I'm uncomfortable. Focus.
I spent good times with lots of great peeps. Dan and I went over together Saturday morning, meeting in MV before 5. A gathering of friends on the ferry ride over. A last minute decision to do the early start, which I really like. I ran the first few miles with Mike C., and later with Scott K. (great stories) and Tracy, and later yet with Craig and Roger, going up the Mountain.
Leaders started passing me somewhere soon after the first aid station. Soon after that, I wasn't all into conversation, but even when I was unhappy with the body, or whatever, I found a lot to be happy with in the trails. Beautiful finish around Cascade Lake, including the backside loop.
Afterwards, lots of great times with friends, burritos, a fire, and then a later ferry ride home.
More pics here.
Saturday, January 29, 2011
Seattle Arboretum
Like many, I was reminded of the Space Shuttle Challenger accident on Friday, the 25th anniversary of the event. In 1986, Madonna, Prince and Springsteen LP records were selling big in the AV Department of the Kingsgate Safeway, where I worked. They also had a cassette rack, and I got my dual tape cassette answering machine there. I worked the morning shift, and watched the disaster on the television, live.
Today I happened to read Ronald Reagan’s speech after the fact, which was given in lieu of the scheduled State of the Union address. It is a remarkable piece of American oratory. Reagan had a way about him--he just had an amazing presence. I liked this: “The future doesn’t belong to the fainthearted; it belongs to the brave.”
I came across Reagan’s speech in a book I purchased at the UW Bookstore, after running my old standard Seattle Arboretum loop in the University of Washington area. This is a loop I used to run nearly every day, rain and shine, when I lived in Seattle, over 12 years ago.
Basically, I start at Roosevelt and 42nd, take a left at Eastlake Romio’s Pizza, run through the neighborhoods to the Arboretum, and then do a big circle in there. After I come out, I find my way over to the Montlake Cut—there’s a trail right on the cut-and then over to the UW and back via the Burke Gillman or through the UW.
I haven’t ran this loop in more than ten years. Running it today was like seeing an old friend. I got a big smile out of rediscovering the old moss-covered footbridge into the Arboretum, a familiar set of stone stairs to a gazebo, and a few of my "secret” cut-through trails. I used to run this loop so hard, checking my watch as I tried to hit certain marks—a half hour to Point A, 45 minutes to Point B, etc. This loop got me ready for my first marathon.
Now I have different loops. Blanchard. Sehome Hill. Nookachamps. But I still do the same things. I have new secret trails, my own sets of stairs and hills, and other various mandatory route-requirements, like summiting the lookout tower on Sehome or being sure to say hi to the cows in the Nookachamps. All personal routines, they ground me. And I still listen to Madonna, Prince and Springsteen, sometimes. But now I have the new Katy Perry.
Here’s Reagan’s speech on the Challenger:
Ladies and Gentlemen, I’d planned to speak to you tonight to report on the state of the Union, but the events of earlier today have led me to change those plans. Today is a day for mourning and remembering. Nancy and I are pained to the core by the tragedy of the shuttle Challenger. We know we share this pain with all of the people of our country. This is truly a national loss.
Nineteen years ago, almost to the day, we lost three astronauts in a terrible accident on the ground. But, we’ve never lost an astronaut in flight; we’ve never had a tragedy like this. And perhaps we’ve forgotten the courage it took for the crew of the shuttle; but they, the Challenger Seven, were aware of the dangers, but overcame them and did their jobs brilliantly. We mourn seven heroes: Michael Smith, Dick Scobee, Judith Resnik, Ronald McNair, Ellison Onizuka, Gregory Jarvis, and Christa McAuliffe. We mourn their loss as a nation together.
For the families of the seven, we cannot bear, as you do, the full impact of this tragedy. But we feel the loss, and we’re thinking about you so very much. Your loved ones were daring and brave, and they had that special grace, that special spirit that says, "give me a challenge and I’ll meet it with joy." They had a hunger to explore the universe and discover its truths. They wished to serve, and they did. They served all of us.
We’ve grown used to wonders in this century. It’s hard to dazzle us. But for twenty-five years the United States space program has been doing just that. We’ve grown used to the idea of space, and perhaps we forget that we’ve only just begun. We’re still pioneers. They, the member of the Challenger crew, were pioneers.
And I want to say something to the schoolchildren of America who were watching the live coverage of the shuttle’s takeoff. I know it is hard to understand, but sometimes painful things like this happen. It’s all part of the process of exploration and discovery. It’s all part of taking a chance and expanding man’s horizons. The future doesn’t belong to the fainthearted; it belongs to the brave. The Challenger crew was pulling us into the future, and we’ll continue to follow them.
I’ve always had great faith in and respect for our space program, and what happened today does nothing to diminish it. We don’t hide our space program. We don’t keep secrets and cover things up. We do it all up front and in public. That’s the way freedom is, and we wouldn’t change it for a minute. We’ll continue our quest in space. There will be more shuttle flights and more shuttle crews and, yes, more volunteers, more civilians, more teachers in space. Nothing ends here; our hopes and our journeys continue. I want to add that I wish I could talk to every man and woman who works for NASA or who worked on this mission and tell them: "Your dedication and professionalism have moved an impressed us for decades. And we know of your anguish. We share it."
There’s a coincidence today. On this day 390 years ago, the great explorer Sir Francis Drake died aboard ship off the coast of Panama. In his lifetime the great frontiers were the oceans, and a historian later said, "He lived by the sea, died on it, and was buried in it." Well, today we can say of the challenger crew: Their dedication was, like Drake’s, complete.
The crew of the space shuttle Challenger honored us by the manner in which they lived their lives. We will never forget them, nor the last time we saw them, this morning, as they prepared for the journey and waved goodbye and "slipped the surly bonds of earth" to "touch the face of God."
Today I happened to read Ronald Reagan’s speech after the fact, which was given in lieu of the scheduled State of the Union address. It is a remarkable piece of American oratory. Reagan had a way about him--he just had an amazing presence. I liked this: “The future doesn’t belong to the fainthearted; it belongs to the brave.”
I came across Reagan’s speech in a book I purchased at the UW Bookstore, after running my old standard Seattle Arboretum loop in the University of Washington area. This is a loop I used to run nearly every day, rain and shine, when I lived in Seattle, over 12 years ago.
Basically, I start at Roosevelt and 42nd, take a left at Eastlake Romio’s Pizza, run through the neighborhoods to the Arboretum, and then do a big circle in there. After I come out, I find my way over to the Montlake Cut—there’s a trail right on the cut-and then over to the UW and back via the Burke Gillman or through the UW.
I haven’t ran this loop in more than ten years. Running it today was like seeing an old friend. I got a big smile out of rediscovering the old moss-covered footbridge into the Arboretum, a familiar set of stone stairs to a gazebo, and a few of my "secret” cut-through trails. I used to run this loop so hard, checking my watch as I tried to hit certain marks—a half hour to Point A, 45 minutes to Point B, etc. This loop got me ready for my first marathon.
Now I have different loops. Blanchard. Sehome Hill. Nookachamps. But I still do the same things. I have new secret trails, my own sets of stairs and hills, and other various mandatory route-requirements, like summiting the lookout tower on Sehome or being sure to say hi to the cows in the Nookachamps. All personal routines, they ground me. And I still listen to Madonna, Prince and Springsteen, sometimes. But now I have the new Katy Perry.
Here’s Reagan’s speech on the Challenger:
Ladies and Gentlemen, I’d planned to speak to you tonight to report on the state of the Union, but the events of earlier today have led me to change those plans. Today is a day for mourning and remembering. Nancy and I are pained to the core by the tragedy of the shuttle Challenger. We know we share this pain with all of the people of our country. This is truly a national loss.
Nineteen years ago, almost to the day, we lost three astronauts in a terrible accident on the ground. But, we’ve never lost an astronaut in flight; we’ve never had a tragedy like this. And perhaps we’ve forgotten the courage it took for the crew of the shuttle; but they, the Challenger Seven, were aware of the dangers, but overcame them and did their jobs brilliantly. We mourn seven heroes: Michael Smith, Dick Scobee, Judith Resnik, Ronald McNair, Ellison Onizuka, Gregory Jarvis, and Christa McAuliffe. We mourn their loss as a nation together.
For the families of the seven, we cannot bear, as you do, the full impact of this tragedy. But we feel the loss, and we’re thinking about you so very much. Your loved ones were daring and brave, and they had that special grace, that special spirit that says, "give me a challenge and I’ll meet it with joy." They had a hunger to explore the universe and discover its truths. They wished to serve, and they did. They served all of us.
We’ve grown used to wonders in this century. It’s hard to dazzle us. But for twenty-five years the United States space program has been doing just that. We’ve grown used to the idea of space, and perhaps we forget that we’ve only just begun. We’re still pioneers. They, the member of the Challenger crew, were pioneers.
And I want to say something to the schoolchildren of America who were watching the live coverage of the shuttle’s takeoff. I know it is hard to understand, but sometimes painful things like this happen. It’s all part of the process of exploration and discovery. It’s all part of taking a chance and expanding man’s horizons. The future doesn’t belong to the fainthearted; it belongs to the brave. The Challenger crew was pulling us into the future, and we’ll continue to follow them.
I’ve always had great faith in and respect for our space program, and what happened today does nothing to diminish it. We don’t hide our space program. We don’t keep secrets and cover things up. We do it all up front and in public. That’s the way freedom is, and we wouldn’t change it for a minute. We’ll continue our quest in space. There will be more shuttle flights and more shuttle crews and, yes, more volunteers, more civilians, more teachers in space. Nothing ends here; our hopes and our journeys continue. I want to add that I wish I could talk to every man and woman who works for NASA or who worked on this mission and tell them: "Your dedication and professionalism have moved an impressed us for decades. And we know of your anguish. We share it."
There’s a coincidence today. On this day 390 years ago, the great explorer Sir Francis Drake died aboard ship off the coast of Panama. In his lifetime the great frontiers were the oceans, and a historian later said, "He lived by the sea, died on it, and was buried in it." Well, today we can say of the challenger crew: Their dedication was, like Drake’s, complete.
The crew of the space shuttle Challenger honored us by the manner in which they lived their lives. We will never forget them, nor the last time we saw them, this morning, as they prepared for the journey and waved goodbye and "slipped the surly bonds of earth" to "touch the face of God."
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Mount Eerie
Mount Baker from Mount Eerie in Anacortes
Sometimes steep trail
Sign describing top of the hill
Whidbey Island in distance, Lake Campbell in foreground
There must be some kind of way out of here...
Mount Constitution to the right
It took forever for me to get out today, but the weather cleared up, and I finally pushed myself out to Anacortes. My ankle still hurts, and the trails were very wet, so the best I could do was keep moving, but I got up to Mount Eerie, and explored a few trails.
When I was younger, people used to tell me that witchcraft is practiced on Mount Eerie at night. I have no idea if this is true, but the rumor always stuck with me. For what it's worth, I passed people doing rituals on Mt. Si a few times in the 1980s. Strange things go on in the mountains sometimes.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Me and My Ankle
“Me and My Uncle” is an old Grateful Dead song, about a trip gone wrong on the Goodnight Loving Trail. The song was written by the infamous John Philips, a full blooded loser, who made it big with the Mamas and Papas ("California Dreamin'"). Judy Collins first sang it, and there's a Joni Mitchell cover. It's a Dead song though--sort of blues-country, one of their more popular older tunes.
The song is about this guy and his uncle, “who went riding down, South Colorado, West Texas bound”. They stop over in Santa Fe, and a card game develops. Cowboys commence to draw, and the kid shoots them dead. They grab the gold, and then the kid ends up shooting his uncle in Mexico, for the gold, claiming his uncle taught him good. It's a fun song.
So, my new song is "Me and My Ankle." I rolled my right ankle something terrible on Monday, when all I was trying to do was sneak in a trail run at lunch during a break from the January rains. My version:
Me and My Ankle
Me and my ankle went runnin’ down
South Bellingham, Arroyo bound
We stopped over, the Hemlock Trail
That being the point just about half way
And you know it was the wettest part of the day
I do this kind of thing all the time--roll my ankle, make stupid songs. I’m a bit irritated with myself. I should’ve anticipated the slipsy footing, and paid attention to the fact that I was running in new, stiff shoes. I know better. I've done it worse, but I done it bad. There were words, and a slow shuffle back to the office.
Oh well, it comes with the territory.
The song is about this guy and his uncle, “who went riding down, South Colorado, West Texas bound”. They stop over in Santa Fe, and a card game develops. Cowboys commence to draw, and the kid shoots them dead. They grab the gold, and then the kid ends up shooting his uncle in Mexico, for the gold, claiming his uncle taught him good. It's a fun song.
So, my new song is "Me and My Ankle." I rolled my right ankle something terrible on Monday, when all I was trying to do was sneak in a trail run at lunch during a break from the January rains. My version:
Me and My Ankle
Me and my ankle went runnin’ down
South Bellingham, Arroyo bound
We stopped over, the Hemlock Trail
That being the point just about half way
And you know it was the wettest part of the day
I do this kind of thing all the time--roll my ankle, make stupid songs. I’m a bit irritated with myself. I should’ve anticipated the slipsy footing, and paid attention to the fact that I was running in new, stiff shoes. I know better. I've done it worse, but I done it bad. There were words, and a slow shuffle back to the office.
Oh well, it comes with the territory.
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