Orange Theory Fitness Centen

The common thread that exists among us as sentient human beings exists in the living of our individual lives. Daily we all encounter multitudes of faces similarly existing within the common thread of living out their own lives. And, upon occasion, we come across someone whose existence has been wrought even though we personally do not see it. They cover the inside hurt with a facade of smiles and light conversations, but inside their brokenness remains in check, unknown to the world around them. 

Yet as they hurt, happenstance brings outside contact with another person whose mere presence brings a dose of invigoration and hope to the one suffering silently. This contact cultivates a healing process by which health in many forms grows exponentially. Soon, another contact follows suite, adding strength and encouragement and before long, a collective gathering has unknowingly taken place around the one, forming a protective barrier that creates a safe and hospitable environment in which the one may return to stable health.  

While reading this lengthy review, it is paramount to bear in mind component of immediate family cannot be overstated. Having them in my airspace breathed life back into me, but also did many others fill a much-needed gap in my existence. And so, this review is just that: the case of my Orange Theory Fitness- Centennial family. It may be lengthy, but I hope it proves worthy of your time, as my words come to me through much hidden pain and darkness. 

On May 4^th, 2018 my plane touched down in Las Vegas, returning me to the arms of my wife and my daughter after and incredulous 10-month deployment to Iraq. While I dare not speak on my family’s behalf, knowing full well my deployment caused their own grief, I do speak for the slow deterioration of my own existence to the experiences I encountered while deployed. In short, I came home wanting only to surround myself with those that loved me, in order to regain my own sense of value as a member of the human species. Until recently, I did not know how bad of a place my mind lived when I returned home. My wife, my daughter, my grandson, and I gathered together and started the reunification process. But it was my wife, Debbie, that introduced me to the group of people at OTF-C that would play a vital role in my recovery. 

Deb signed me up for an unlimited plan, allowing me access to the studio anytime I could attend. We started a regular routine of 7 a.m. taking only a day off per week on average. My first encounter that I recall with detail came from the head of the physical fitness department (Lead Coach) came from Coach Keith as he initiated the torture (not really) with his normal “welcome, welcome, welcome!” quickly followed by his running up and down the aisle behind the treadmills motivated me to my first All Out. 

When the pure exhaustion quickly turned into rewarding endorphins and as the internal chemical solution temporarily released me from the burden of the deployment, I was immediately hooked on OTF. That first routine from Keith set the bar high. The strength, knowledge, and wisdom Keith possesses ensures success for each and every class he leads, inspiring those in attendance to push harder, longer, and farther. His willingness to remain after each class and work with individuals increases the passing of knowledge, enhancing client capability and drive to succeed. 

Of course, Keith must share the wealth of changing lives by adding coach Jus early on in the summer, Coach Eugene in the evenings, who not only demonstrated a keen eye for observation, but created an enthusiastic atmosphere by granting a reprieve from the run by calling out “BAAASE!” into the microphone! The newest addition, Brie, whose self-proclaimed short height is countered by her dynamic personality as she leaps on top the machines so we can all see her. Always pushing us to go harder, she encourages us brilliantly lighting up the board in red as we catch fire! 

Then there’s coach Amanda. The always happy, joyful, positive, and simply delightful coach Amanda. With a smile she brings light into even the darkest of orange rooms, whose restorative energy reduces stress by simply talking with her. She can be read like a book. Her joy and happiness come from deep inside and no façade or false impression of joy exists. It comes from her love of coaching, but even more so her love for the people whose lives she impacts for the better. She loves the people she coaches, plain and simple.  This amazing team of coaches, pushing all of us to be better than we were five minutes ago, revealed my own personal potential I thought I had lost overseas.

What can be said about the girls behind the front counter? Ever worked in retail? Or been on the receiving end of an upset patron whose heart rate monitor isn’t monitoring? Ever had to deal with a constant-flowing and open faucet of sweat and body fluids that can be potentially slewn from one end of the building to the other? How about conducting restroom and shower clean-up duties while still managing to maintain professionalism of wearing a smile, even at 4 a.m.? These examples serve as a sample of the daily lives of the front desk ladies of OTF-C. 

The under-appreciated group consists of girls and ladies from all walks of life, all while possessing a like-minded mission of making the experience for each patron the best possible at that moment. Always quick with a smile and an encouraging anecdote, I encountered immediate warmth and compassion from Taylor and Daija, two young women that provide non-stop energy and support, always ready to a workout with any patron. Aeo, who saw fit to honor ME with a member of the month (seriously? I mean, really….) for August and the team is unmatched. These ladies will make a name for themselves. But for now, we the patrons of OTF-C, maintain our greedy possession of their willingness to go above and beyond. 

I miss Dee, who disappeared from my radar, shame on me, shortly after joining. Dee and her husband, soon to be mentioned below were more family that I could count on when I didn’t know I needed them. And Sarah, former Air Force and was the one behind the counter that truly brought to light the extreme differences in my countenance since returning home. Her ability to identify with what I had been enduring proved her keen intuitiveness and open heart allowed me to see the changes personally. 

But these ladies all look up to the strength of the one in shoes charge and care they reside. Dealing with what they do, their leader remains the bedrock of strength that sees them through some pretty sticky situations. (Yes…I said sticky.) This position of lead staff at the front desk cannot be filled by just anyone with the expectation of success. In order for true success to happen, this person must embody the values of strong and dynamic leadership with a servant’s heart. 

I know I met Alyssa first day, but her presence became overshadowed, and rightly so, by the workout. I say rightly so as with any initial membership, the primary focus should be on the OTF concept, followed quickly by the people behind it. Alyssa quickly followed behind the concept, and her leadership skills daily on display showed her to be a natural-born leader. Remaining calm in all conditions, her heart of giving back to the community plays well right into her support for her staff. But here’s what sets her apart from most “front desk leads” that I’ve encountered: while she maintains the strength, knowledge, and wisdom to stand her ground or execute the enforcement of standards, she never sways from what drives her to do what she does: she loves people. Flat-out, un-abrasive, and unconditional love for people. And it has been an honor to be accepted by her during a low point in my life, receiving back a great deal of dignity.

I would be amiss if I failed to mention those that became my little “clique,” if you will. While the vast number of people I personally encountered during any given workout on any given day with any given hour proved to be invaluable to me, our daily ritual of the 7am class opened the door for several deeper bonds to form. Most of these ladies rallied around my wife prior to my return, and I love them for it. Deon. Jen. Janie. Carolyn. I cannot tell you the value you possess in my eyes, knowing the difference you made by simply being in the presence of my wife while SHE endured what I put her through. She doesn’t show it, but yes…she did endure a lot and you all gave her more than you may be aware. I’m going to need you again real soon.

As much as I appreciate these ladies, and I do, I found many others regularly simply breathing value back into my life. Tyler, Bill, Smiley, Eli, A.J., and more often than not, simply anyone stepping on the treadmill next to me whose presence and demand for more effort pushed me to strain maximum effort during each workout….all gave by simply being the human next to me and simply helped me want to be better than I was an hour ago. But….two people stand out loudly in my brain. For nearly three months I daily found myself bookended by these two, and with each passing fist-bump or high-five, a silent and unspoken rebuilding took place in my life. No words were really exchanged aside from the “good job” or “let’s go.” Little did either of them know that with each passing mile, each elevation or pace change on each run, we watched each other with encouraging eyes, building each other up, pushing each other to be better. I found myself being pushed to be better healed with each passing day. Just simply existing, lifting more weight, rowing faster, running farther, with hardly a word spoken. Karli and Nick, you may not know the depths of effect you had on me, but you did. I hardly know either of you, but that’s what makes the connection meaningful: none of us had anything personal to gain except for the savage improvements we wanted for ourselves and for each other. You two merely went about your daily lives, showed up for a workout, and changed a life. 

So, yeah…this Orang Theory Fitness Centennial place you’ve been hearing about? It’s a building with black floors and orange lights, lough music and intense workouts. It has machines that want you to die. Showers to refresh you after you feel like you died. All manner of things that can be replaced or substituted. But what makes it priceless are the people inside. They are without a doubt…..irreplaceable. 

Todd W. Hine

MAJ, U.S. Army

Stretched, but Not Broken

 

When I was a kid I recall a toy by the name of Stretch Armstrong. If I’m not mistaken, it was a predecessor to all the other stretch action figures that arrived on market shortly after for guys like Hulk Hogan of wrestling fame. Stretch Armstrong was an actions figure made of rubber. You could grab him by his arms or legs and pull and he would stretch as far as little boy arms could reach, and yet he wouldn’t break. His head, made of hard plastic, remained in place and would not move. And he has become the physical manifestation of my life over the last two months.

Having deployed before, I knew full-well going into the holiday season things would be difficult in this place, being so far from home and missing so many pivotal events going on back home. Missing birthdays, missing Thanksgiving, missing Christmas, missing New Year. Missing spending my birthday with family. Those were all on the radar, I thought I was prepared for them, and entered the timeframe of Thanksgiving through the week after my birthday thinking falsely I was ready.

What I could not prepare myself for was the challenges I have encountered as a leader, and at this particular point in my writing, I want to ensure you do not receive a sense of sorrow, regret, self-pity, or anything that would take away from the growth I have gleaned from the experiences over the last two months, possibly even going back to August. For what has taken place here in my life finds its origins dating back to our first days on ground. I’ll save those stories for the campfire back home.

Here I sit with the end of January fast approaching and my last three months of this deployment sneaking up around the corner, and I daydream of a boy’s childhood toy, Stretch Armstrong. Let the story begin.

This unit has at the helm a commander. He is high in rank, one step away from a one-star. Next in line is a guy one rank below him as the deputy, and remains one the most balanced leaders I have met in my career. Below and/or next to the deputy are three gold-leaf field grade leaders that were informed back in July that they would be running the company. I happen to be one of those field grade, gold-leaf, middle management, go-between, conduit, decision maker and approval seeker leaders.

One of the fellows works in an ops capacity. He takes care of the unit on a day-by-day basis. Good guy too. But he has no responsibility outside the unit itself. The other two, of which I am one, have great influence outside the unit. Whereas my responsibilities directly influence Iraqi Senior Officers, his reaches to higher levels of coalition forces departments. Together, we could have made an incredible difference immeasurable. Could have.

This counterpart of mine gabbed ahold of one of my arms and began pulling back in August, much to my disappointment, and has yet to let go. He has allowed me on several occasions to think he was going to let go, but not only did he not let go, he tried to tie my arm into a knot. This one in particular has been the biggest disappointment of the deployment. Bitterness set in rather quickly, early on, but this has become one the success stories for me personally.

When I finally acknowledged the truth of what was actually going on between us, I at first denied it, hid from it, and attempted to run from it. That tactic didn’t work. What did work was coming to the realization that each confrontation required a standing against, but with a heart of forgiveness as well. Since November I have been practicing the fine art of confronting, challenging, yet with a heart of not holding onto a grudge in the process. It worked. I pulled my arm back to its normal state.

As for the other three appendages? This is pretty cool how it worked out, for I happen to have three guys working directly for me, each of whom have taken up on of the other extensions and without malice and whether knowing it or not have attempted to pull apart my body and mind and heart. Without addressing each in their own respective rights, I will say each has been on the receiving end my corrective actions, and while they have all kept me up at night, it is my own gain that I get from them I appreciate the most. I have had to confront within me some fears I didn’t want to admit through their personalities as subordinates to my position.

Going full circle to my beginning, the last two months put me in a serious rut. I’ve already explained the nature of a deployment during the holiday season. The compensating factor for most deployments generally and commonly can be found within the ranks and peers of the unit within which one serves. This year, this deployment, I found none that provided the depth and breadth of brotherhood for which I yearned daily. The absence and void could not be replaced. Things became so low for me I lost all desire to RUN.

But coming through the struggle now as the end of the month draws near, I have in my mind Psalm 103:2-5 Bless the Lord, O my soul, And forget not all His benefits: ³ Who forgives all your iniquities, Who heals all your diseases, ⁴ Who redeems your life from destruction, Who crowns you with lovingkindness and tender mercies, ⁵ Who satisfies your mouth with good things, So that your youth is renewed like the eagle’s.

My level of communication on social media dwindled to only the rare exception, such as New Year's eve etc. I have been in regular contact with Debbie over facetime, and while she sees much of the goings on, I keep things soft so she can have solid input and discussion with me to keep my head level. It's been equally hard for her as well, but thank you to Tony and his family and Sara and Matt for constantly checking on her and my daughter to make sure they are doing okay. While things are hard here, when things go bad back home its a literal tragedy for me here. Its a relief to know you have my back during this time.

I've enjoyed the times with my daughter and grandson, but the big heartache came on Christmas when I had technical difficulties watching them open presents. That one hurt, until we got facetime running on daughter's phone. Videos fell away. Pictures fell away. The blog fell away. My routine became going to work and coming home to go to bed. I think a follow-on writing should address takers vs givers. Until then, I have some studying to do. Thank you for listening. I'm ready to come home.

 

To My Wife This Christmas

Not enough. Simply and mindfully not enough. I have in my life a woman that remains steadfast and confident in her entire being. My deployment decision became a mutual decision that she fully supported, but I know that it has taken a toll on her. She has had to hold down the fort dealing with items that normally I would have resolved quickly and easily. Instead, she's come to rely on close friends, which is also great, but the fact that she cannot rely on my presence cannot be disputed. This woman, my wife, is my teammate and I am hers. Together, we make things work pretty darn well. In the absence of one, the other tends to struggle, even if for little things.


Christmas What Year??



Without her, I would simply starve or devolve to ramen noodles and iceberg lettuce. Without me, she has to replace light bulbs 35' in the air, disassemble, repair, and reassemble the entire pool filtering system, manage to keep two golden retriever swimmers from drowning the house, plus working a full-time job and taking care of the house and those within and a multitude of other things requiring dual hands.
Yet she has managed to find the time to send me several care packages that have sustained me physically and boosted my morale beyond mere survival into a satisfied life while on this junkyard of a post. Boxes of delights she knows I enjoy including everything from pretzels to a diffuser that makes my room smell like a spa. She has spent hour upon hour dehydrating meats of various forms, vacuum sealing them and sending them over with bags of much needed fiber to stock my fridge and supply me with high-quality meat. I've resorted to freezing the bags of jerky to keep them fresh I have so much.
My Thanksgiving sucked. I'll just put that out there. It was not good. I truly wasn't expecting it to be something incredible, but it would have been much more enjoyable had I even had a small taste of turkey. Then we rolled into what is now the Christmas Holiday season, and moral is pretty low. Not just mine either. As a teacher (or former teacher), I have loved Christmas. Decorating my room, playing holiday music for the kids you name it I love it. This year, while here in Iraq, I pre-ordered lights and streamers for the office, but around here, the spirit just seems to not be catching on.
Then my wife's most recent three care packages arrived. Each one was full of Christmassy goodies that have been spread around the office and inside my room like an indoor carnival. Crème de la crème: she and my daughter put together a project of a Christmas tree made of felt, button sewn on it in various locations, and a plethora of ornaments made of several shapes and sizes felt that hangs from each button. Then they were able to get kids and teachers from Walter Bracken to do the same and the box arrived just yesterday, 08DEC17.

I immediately hung the tree on the door leading to the hallway from my office and had several guys from my section hang the ornaments. Decorating the tree is a family event, and since my wife and daughter and grandson are so far away from me at the moment, I shared in this with the guys. I have no idea how they received it, but it meant a lot to me. At the time, I had no idea what she had done. In the care package was a tin box and a card. I figured they were "do not open until." gifts. Then I facetimed with her this morning while she was wrapping up her first and much deserved trip to Hawaii. She informed me to open the card and the tin, which spilled the beans. The tree and ornaments were destined for my room, not the office.
Had I known, I wouldn't have shared. Yup..I would been greedy and selfish and kept all that beauty for myself. My wife, my daughter, friends and kiddos from Bracken. All put effort into making my Christmas special. And it will be. I kept much of the stuff for myself, don't get me wrong. I have a little decoration going on as you can see, but I also know that as I sing my wife's praises here, I also know she does just this sorta thing: she makes people happy through her giving. She is a giver. While I would love to keep her giving all to myself, I am so proud to be able to see her efforts and so many other's efforts to hopefully bring happiness to others in this hum-drum location.
In my own little slice of in-heaven, I put to good use the vast assortment of other decorations my wife sent, plus a couple other do-dads that I ordered, and the remaining ornaments that didn't fit on the tree at work. I made myself a heater-tree, that will suffice nicely. Presents from home will be placed under the tree the night before Christmas and I might even do a live show of opening for Christmas. Thank you daughter, thank you Walter Bracken, and thank you Wife!

Deja Vu'

Sunday, November 5th, 2017. Please keep my wife and daughter in your thoughts. Debbie is sick with the flu (?) and my daughter is looking at a big repair bill since I cant help.

A memory came back to haunt me this week. Maybe not a memory as much as an impression since what arose within me this week came from my time here during my last deployment ten years ago. One of the consequences, if you will, of a deployment is the state of perpetual of tiredness.  This is the remembrance that dawned on me.

I don’t mean being sleepy. This state of tiredness has nothing to do with being tired per se. For instance, pulling the night watch eliminates sleep from the daily diet of bodily needs, producing sleepiness. This is normal and expected, and after a day of recovery, all is well. Night watch isn’t all that bad either since the building becomes a ghost town and no one makes contact with you. The following day as a day off allows for an additional respite from human contact as well. Of course, I don’t get to pull night duty.

I’m also not referring to the tired feelings of having just completed a marathon. Nope, I know that feeling all too well, and while a day or two recovery will inevitably provide a return to full-duty status, the moments after the marathon itself are exhausting. Yet, still the tired feelings are not what I’m describing.

Then quite possibly the argument comes by way of being tired emotionally. Strong argument since a deployment does wreak havoc with emotional well-being thanks to the distance from family members from whom we all gain strength. Yet this emotional state of tiredness, as strong an argument as it is, still only adds to the principle to which I am referring: a perpetual state of drained exhaustion.

Personally, I feel it predominantly in my eyes. My eye sockets have this heaviness and puffiness to them that no amount of caffeinated beverages can compensate. Even after a rock-solid 7 hours of blissful sleep, I arrive at my desk on a relatively slow admin day and the exercise in futility of keeping my eyelids above half-mast drains me. It requires herculean effort to maintain constant vigil, let alone any resemblance of situational awareness. Perhaps the events of October exposed this state of being?

October beat me down hard. 90% of my difficulties came from interpersonal conflicts and confrontations, by the numbers. In comparison, measuring difficulties using a standards of measurement of significant emotional experiences, a few events that took place this month shook me up pretty well. Maybe the events that I experienced during this month only seemed that dramatic to me and were in fact minor occasions of discomfort to others, but they happened to me.

Two major disappointments happened to me in October. The first began in September when I discovered I could participate in the Marine Corps Marathon Forward, allowing me to run the race at a post way up north here in Iraq. I checked with my travel agent guy here in the unit, who promised me he could get me to the post when the time came. I specified I could only go over three days. A week before the race, he informed me I would be gone for an indiscriminant time, possibly up to a week. I had to back out. Still haven’t completed the run.

The disappointment of not being able to participate in the MCM Forward resulted in the second emotional event of the month: hard-hit illness. I became so upset with not being able to attend the event, that I went for a long run that night. I left right after work when the parts-per-million dust and smoke particles were at their upmost for the end of the day. For a half marathon equivalent, I ran this tiny little post and by the time I wrapped it up, my gun hip was sending sharp pains into me and I could not breathe to save myself. The amount of garbage I inhaled caused a serious illness that last two weeks with a trip to the medical center and switched to a shoulder harness to heel my hip muscles. Haven't run for the last two weeks.  

I have had other significant events happen that related directly to my job. For days I had visions of appearing before a Senate Hearing. I cannot begin to describe them here, but it has been a challenging month all things considered. My morale dropped and the frequent contact I have with my wife plus the weekend visits with my daughter and grandson kept me going. And the care packages filled with jerky!!!! Holy cow(literal and figurative use) WIFE!! You made the most amazing cow jerky and I have savored every ounce. 

I stayed silent otherwise for the month. No videos posted, no blog postings. Only a few text messages back home. I withdrew, I admit, which is a signal that all is not well for this introvert. For the month of November I am determined to focus my energies on positives. My intent is to find one important item during the course of each day to be thankful for and boast about it. Today I am thankful for having the opportunity to sleep in.

Lifelong Friendships

My team went out on mission without me today. It’s only two guys, a MSG and a SSG, but their absence was felt knowing they were outside the wire. I met them back in June, home station drill, one of the first days I enjoyed within my new assignment. The first thing I told my team at our initial get together included one of my key principles of leadership: that I will approach  each of them first as a human being then rank and position held in the unit second.

I based this approach on the belief that although the unit and my team specifically have roots deeply embedded across the four corners of the nation, we all have base motivations driving us. We want to serve in the Army (or the military, for that matter) that what we do should matter, but really, at the end of the day, what we all truly want to be able to go home and be with the loved ones for whom we work.

This approach has served me well in the past, generally speaking, but has often times led to being taken advantage of. On such an adventure as a military deployment, friendship bonds potentially form that surpass levels seen in a wide variety of friendships elsewhere, simply due to the nature of the business. The bonds are not better, just different.

Such was the case, or I assumed, when I joined the team within which I currently serve. One in particular stood out as one with glaring potential for a friendship….no, wait…a brotherhood…that would last for a lifetime. As time moved forward and the unit came together in pre-deployment phase, my time with the one increased dramatically and the depth of what I believed was a real friendship developed, I opened myself up and allowed vulnerability. Then we arrived in theater, where true colors exploded all over the big screen. My value diminished to the point of an entry-level recruit in his eyes and my trust disappeared. My dedication to duty remains and though work will continue professionally, I highly doubt contact will sustain after the deployment.

Back to my team and our initial meeting. Originally there were four of us, but we lost one due to admin issues that simply couldn’t get worked out. Otherwise, he would have only added to what now have. My NCOIC resides in Brooklyn, NY and makes the personal claim politically as a liberal while I lean toward the conservative. Yet as we continue to carry on conversations and discussions, our political stances truly are not so far apart as the media would want them to be. He is married and while hasn’t ever had the need to drive a car in his life, he is driving one the biggest rigs we have in the unit quite proficiently. He also has a 3 year old little girl and wants desperately to get home safely to be with them.

I also have the token old guy working for me. Although working for me may not be the right description since he is a former Lieutenant Colonel, retired, re-enlisted back into the NCO Corps as a SSG. And is he old. I’m a spring chicken compared to this bald-headed old fart with a sense of humor as long as the day. He is humble, jovial, and smart with wisdom coming from a BC perspective on many things. I call him SSG when others are around, but “sir” comes out more often than not. His desire is to return home to his wife, kids, and grandkids too.

These two guys are making my existence here worthwhile. We have set the standard for what a mission outside the wire looks like, and the team has earned a reputation as the safest team in the unit. We have yet to miss a weekly suspense and as a team of three, ours is the strongest, most tightly knit group. These two will end up being the ones I carry with me for a lifetime, and although we are only a month into this adventure I can honestly say the only way this group will separate is failure of leadership on my part. Back to principle one: We are all human beings wanting only after putting in a good day’s work to go home and be with our families.

From left to right: SSG Tim Cyprian and MSG Victor Alicea on 11SEP2017 in front of one of our two trucks we use to drive to our secondary location for work. I was supposed to have been in this photo, but now it seems appropriate that I would have this pic.

Quick update over last two weeks

25AUG17

Today is Friday, August 25^th, 2017 and I have been in Iraq two full weeks. The first week here I spent doing a hand-off with the unit rep I replaced. My job is similar to supervising a few dealership maintenance branches. The difference being our maintenance vehicles are tanks and other combat-related vehicles. I work out of two offices. One office is found within my unit’s headquarters, where the vast majority of admin-related tasks get done. The second office isn’t really an office as much as a location. My second office requires a bit more attention to detail, so more to come.

I few events stand out in my mind during the first two weeks, which, if I were back home, would equate to an annual training and I would returning home soon. Key events: I was afforded the opportunity to be served tea in an Iraqi Brigadier General’s office. Granted, the BG is corrupt beyond measure, but still, it was a pretty cool event. His is the office that looks more like a Vegas Club than a BG’s office.

This week I took over missions. No longer baby-sat, I am in full charge of my section’s mission and we pulled it off nicely. ON Tuesday while strolling through the compound, we suddenly came across a 120mm tank round nonchalantly placed on the ground and left. What a lovely surprise.

I’ve also enjoyed a couple medical issues this week. Upon arrival in this region, my skin started to react unhappily. I’ve been experiencing acne sporadically with only my face and hands being exceptions to the rule. One pop-up on my lower left back turned into a nasty cyst that required being surgically removed on Tuesday. I have a great video of it, if you’re interested. Prior to and for the last two days, that tiny area has been a pain in my back. Literally. Especially when I put on my protective vest. THAT was a highly emotional experience.

Immediately following this event on Thursday was  the result of enjoying the dining facility’s Indian Cuisine Night with lamb curry. My stomach has not been the same for going on two days now. Keep in mind no interior latrines can be found anywhere on this entire compound. In order to get to the nearest “repository” whether I am in my room or in the office, I need to walk a solid 50-100m. And then the facilities are nothing more than a porta-pottie or latrine/shower facility.

So sums up my first two weeks, leaving out only a few things that happened that are of more interest to my military compadres than not. Overall I am doing well. Personality issues are more troublesome than work-related issues, but that’s always to be expected until the dust settles. Those are the things that stress me out at work.

On the home front, I am able to facetime using the internet I have in my room, which allows me near daily contact back home. While I miss my wife, daughter, and grandson, being able to see them while talking with them eases the homesickness. I have been authorized the taking and sending of videos to Bracken, so I can stay in contact with the kiddos and teachers, too. I find great therapy in doing such an activity. Once my back heals up (Nice marble-sized hole) I will hit the gym regularly. I am back in touch with my coach and look forward to hearing his voice in my head again too.

Friday and Sunday morning are my only days off. I am ten hours ahead of Vegas time. So, if you feel like reaching out on facetime, email me ahead of time so I can turn on my connection. It is always good to hear from the States! That’s about it for this update. Stay tuned for more news out of the desert.

From US to Iraq: Clothing and Environment. A satiricle look.

As the day started, my the normal routine of preparing myself for work seemed mundane. My coffee tasted different, as if it were made from some foreign water source. My room seemed smaller, as though it had reduced in size during the night while I lay attempting a form of sleep on a bed made of lumps and folds. Things seemed different, so I made a change to my normality by embracing the abnormality.

The previous attire held near and dear to my heart became a sudden distant past as I succumbed to the donning of a skin-tight under garment layer from toe to neck. A second layer of fabric then covered the first, yet was different from the first in several ways. The second layer covered all remaining exposed skin save for hands, neck, and face. Formulated from only the finest of non-breathable, flame-retardant, multi-use camouflaged pattern its sole purpose appeared only act as impenetrable defense against all things external.

My feet required attention. Their single fabric layer could only provide limited barriers against the onslaught of the day’s activities and requirements. They needed more. Engulfing each foot within a vessel constructed of extremely durable, highly think, and unforgiving leather attached to a brick-like sole, my feet were securely protected from the elements, though not without the highly agitating and constant rubbing over the leather against lightly covered skin through thinly made socks.

A cap covered the one area of the human body that releases the most body heat, and with the complete ensemble, I made my way into the world. Upon opening the exterior door, the initial attack came in the form of a 13.7 kazillion-candle-watt power light bulb.  The magnitude of the source scorched my retina and ice picks began to stab at the receptors deep in my eye sockets. Only another thinly constructed shield protected them, shaded pieces of plastic held together by cheap frames wrapping themselves around my head.

Suddenly I became engulfed in a heat source unregisterable on the British Thermal Unit scale, a veritable magnifying glass shining on me, similar to those I used on ants when I was a child. The protective layer I had donned now became an oven. My body began to slowly cook within its encapsulated cocoon.

The initial barrage was only half the attack. I was wittingly flanked by a penetrating wind that swallowed me whole. The oven experience turned from sauna-style heat to convection as wave after wave of recirculatory air patterns relentlessly dwelt blow after blow. Walking in the open environment provided a mental image of moving through a gauntlet of a thousand heat guns focused on my embittered torture. Breathing became a struggle as particles of stirred up dust and debris infiltrated my nose and lungs.

The mundane routine I had once known became a faded distant past with the new environmental factors now affecting me. My world has changed significantly and remembering how things once were only serves lowly feelings. So, to an end I stay focused and simply enjoy the moment and prepare myself for the unavoidable rainy season.

New Soil (Kuwait)

15AUG17

New Soil

The long walk from the terminal to the plane on 08AUG17 manifested itself quite differently this deployment, far less emotional than the first. Our plane, a United 747, waited for us on the tarmac a solid four-minute walk. While my first tour departed in the early morning hours, this walk took place in the afternoon sun and one of my fellow soldiers interrupted my solitude during the walk through unsolicited statements regarding seating arrangements which proved to be without merit. As we boarded the aircraft, a terminal official greeted us by asking our rank and directing traffic accordingly. Majors have little affluence anymore as two lower ranking soldiers were directed to first class while I received orders to the rear of the plane.

My seat ended up being the next to last seat in the tail end of the extremely long bird. Only one row sat further to the rear than did my own. I found a two-seat row next to a window on the right side of the plane facing forward and sat in the aisle seat. Next to me a joyful warrant officer that maintained his countenance throughout the flight. He kept me happy and jubilant. I think I posted a picture of the two of us on my main page.

The flight took a total 28 hours. We stopped in VA and took on additional passengers completely engulfing the plane, which I estimate to be around 350 passengers. It’s a guess, but on a 747, seats are a plenty. From VA we spent approximately 7 hours flying over the ocean. It was not harsh, as we enjoyed in-flight movies and were fed frequently. Upon landing in Hahn, Germany, the flight enjoyed a short shuttle ride to a terminal facility in a dilapidated military base terminal area with actual grass in the back yard.

Our third leg took us to Qatar where a vast majority of the passengers left, allowing for many to move about the cabin and spread out a bit. The final leg from Qatar landed us in Kuwait International Airport. After 28 hours on a plane, it is safe to say we were not happy campers. The heat welcomed us at nearly 120 degrees, which only added to the strained muscles and attitudes, but a clean, dust-free, interior holding area allowed to enjoy ice-cold water while resting on sofa recliners in air-conditioned luxury suites. (yeah…not true. Outdoor, in the heat and dust, and not really any seat except for the concrete T-barriers. And cool water? Not really. Refrigerators are everywhere, not just in Kuwait, but in Iraq too. If you take one, you replace one. But they never really get chilled.)

Tiny busses transported us from heaven to the tropical resort of Camp Arifjan to await our transportation into Iraq. I enjoyed wifi, a Starbucks, and a half mile walk to the dining facility three times a day. I also had a chance to Facetime with the family back home. The heat during the day averaged around 117. Welcome to Kuwait.

Last American Meal

05AUG17

Last American Meal

Sleep has not been an issue this week since the “episode” of the other night, and in fact, I have even been waking up early enough to log some miles on the road. By the way, I humbly thank you for the encouragement in your comments. Every word adds life to me. Thank you!

Yesterday I enjoyed supporting the APFT (physical fitness test) for the unit with some running pointers and also sharing some of the last remaining supplies of Hammer gel packs I kinda squirreled away over the last three weeks. (Which, by the way, received high praise from several soldiers, thank you Hammer Nutrition!)

This morning was another such start as even before the sun began to peek over the horizon and before few if any other soldiers were up, my Altras were softly gliding across the pavement. The ghost town of North Fort Hood felt eerily exciting at the early hour. 6 miles later a multitude of runners covered the streets conducting various forms of physical training. It was a good start.

This afternoon I had the opportunity to hitch a ride to the big PX in the sky. PX=Post Exchange, but it’s not really in the sky. It’s more like on the big side of Fort Hood, TX. Not really “like” on the big side of Fort Hood, it actually IS on the big side of Fort Hood. It’s to the south of us, so it’s known as South Fort Hood to us. So, we started calling it Southfork, after a certain Texas based TV series from the 80s. I still don’t who shot JR.

I picked up a couple items that will come in handy in the upcoming three days. First, I grabbed two back-up batteries that should suffice the journey I am about to face soon. I should only need the juice for my ipad since my phone will be off and the laptop will not be needed. I also enjoyed one last stop in the PX for some fast food. Which turned out to be…CHINESE FOOD! HA! And for dessert??? My last official American made Starbucks coffee dark roast. Deee-lish!!

Weird, right? But stop and think about it for a second. Unless I manage to get a second chance tomorrow, today was the last time for many months that I will enjoy both succulent choices that were made ON American soil. Certainly, we can assume coffee and other fast food type environments exist in foreign countries, to be sure. Yet, the simplest of ingredients will not have been secured from an American resource. Such as, of all things, WATER. (Yes, I seriously do think about things like this.)

Consider: each of us desire a specific brand of bottled water, correct? Step into any Terrible Herbst or 7-11 to get water, what do you reach for? Dasani? Smart Water? Why? Because each one tastes different, correct? So why won’t the water in a different country be reasonably expected to taste different enough to cause a variant in the flavor of the coffee, let alone the noodles that were boiled in water? Am I right? So I enjoyed my last American made Chinese food and one last American made coffee and now I can settle in for my last full day on American soil tomorrow. Hey, that just gave me an idea…I wonder what American soil tastes like compared to other country soils?

02AUG17> The Walls Caved In On Me

After a grueling day of travel pre-cursed by leaving behind my loved ones yesterday, I finally arrived back in my barracks room at 0345. I slept…kinda…for an hour or so, got up and made first formation. My day was productive as things are drawing near to our departure. Went to dinner with my fellow officers  at 1800 and came home to watch some Big Bang Theory. Called home. And finally, exhausted, I went to bed. Key detail: a couple weeks ago my battle buddy left on advance party, so I now have a large room to myself. Relaxing and peaceful not having someone else’s smelly shoes in the room. But were he here with me, tonight would not have happened.

However, not having my battle with me allowed cause an opening for my internal man to experience havoc. I still am unsure of all the factors that caused what I experienced, but I don’t recall experiencing this on my first deployment. My mind hasn’t been totally clear all day, so when I went to go horizontal (lie down), I suddenly began to feel the room spin. Not bad, but enough. Then the walls started closing in on me, and I felt it very difficult to breathe, as if the room had no air. So, considering my traveling the day before, lack of sleep, poor nutrition, water intake, etc, it stands to reason this might happen. However, couple this now with the heaviness of leaving my wife, my daughter and my grandson and it was more than I could bear while in this room.

I found myself sitting up, my hands on my knees, small light on, Chris Tomlin playing, and praying against my thoughts that were attacking me. The loneliness I felt inside this room overwhelmed me, invaded my innermost being and left me void. Empty.

I’m better now as I donned my PT gear and ran into the darkness west of my building. To escape the loneliness, I ran into more desolation, but it was freeing. No lights, no constraints, no hindrances. It was in the night, on a short run, the emotions hit again. Remembering the airport parking garage holding my grandson, who KNEW something was up, refusing to let go of me, calling out “papa” over and over. Hugging my daughter, unable to express the pride I have in her maturity in being a mommy.

Holding my wife for the second go-around, knowing that it is I who has created this hardship for her, knowing full well that I am the cause of her direct pain, brought me to my knees. I will never doubt the strength that is in my wife, the independence, the ability to ENDURE life. True, it was a mutual decision, but in the end I left her and wont again see her for ten months. That’s a lot to deal with as any military spouse knows.

Now, after clearing my head, I decided to share the effects a deployment. At times it is difficult to put into words what cannot be seen. Not just emotions, but thoughts, attitudes, work stressors all remain invisible to outsiders. I share these things with you, my little closed group of special loved ones, because you will let me.  

Pre-occupied

May crossed over the halfway mark this week and the month past has been incredibly busy. I am approaching the close of my first week of the new semester and the lack of motivation has reached climactic levels. Things in the last few weeks have simply crowded out my desire to "apply myself."

As a recap, I would have to say that going back to my Salt Flats weekend began the ball rolling down this inevitable path of yearning for the elusive graduation cruise planned for August. To say the failure at Salt Flats has affected me would be an understatement, but so much else has taken place as well.

The first week of May brough about two massive projects: Finals week for the previous semester that fell in pace with scheduled Annual Training with the Guard. Long days of Military Decision Making Process training did not fair well with the research papers that required a significant amount of my time. Upon conclusion of the week, I was ready for a break.

It was not to be. While AT wrapped up on the 11th, my daughter graduated college on the 12th. Debbie amazingly arranged all logistics for her, thankfully, since I had to devote my time elsewhere. The graduation was okay, the dinner good, but the significance of the event took an emotional toll.

Then, without a blink, this semester launched and with came all sorts of new adventures. A family member required several medical appointments that took some time, Debbie's schedule changed, going from days to swings resulting in sleeping patterns being altered, and I have scheduled another 100miler for next week.

To top it all off, I had to go through a job interview. Enough said on that. I can add to that the fact that grades have not yet posted from last semester, and this semester is shaping up to be less than desirable in comparison to last. I have already had run-ins with other classmates through the discussion boards. First week? Really?

I am not complaining. I am not unhappy nor am I even slightly depressed. I just needed to get my fingers typing a bit to redirect my focus back on school and current events seemed to be a good place to start. I am beyond emotional for my college graduate. I am beyond grateful for Deb, putting togeether a significant effort for her. I am excited at the prospect for going back to work. And I cannot wait to finish up this school. Time to fix up my foxhole, lean into it, and drive on.

Salt Flats 100 (70)

I stood in front of the Rainbow Hotel window and watched the winds blow a fierce storm of dust across the entire Wendover Valley. In the background the weather station continued to tell me audibly what my eyes confirmed visually. The winds increased and the temperatures decreased right before me. Any ideas I had in having pristine weather conditions for my first 100-miler run disappeared in a couple hours time.

It was Thursday night before the race and all the essentials had been completed. Race meeting, packet pick-up, dinner, and all the necessary check in equipment and nutrition supplies. I had gone over my checklist of things to work through at each aid station with my long time friend and crew chief for this race, Brian Burgess. Sleep came early enough and with the dawn approaching, we left the hotel and made our way to the start.

Best way to describe this course must be found in the separation of the course into various terrain features. The title of the race is deceptive. With nearly 10,000 feet of elevation gain throughout the hundred miles, the race is anything but flat. Even my hill profiles from mapping software left me greatly underestimating the course difficulty. And what the elevations profile left unchallenged the unknown factor of changing terrains more than made up for it.

The start took place on the Salt Flats with a full half marathon distance to Floating Island. I was prepared for this portion having competed on it two years prior. The steady pace was slow and consistent at 11:00 miles. I was a bit on the tired side, maybe from the week before, and as a result I simply focused on the pace.

I feel the need to add this comment on the week leading up to the race. I knew it was going to challenge me mentally, and to some degree I can say the mental aspect took more of a toll than the physical, as can be seen later. Having come off drill the weekend before, my schoolwork suffered a bit, leaving me with a 7-pager to complete the day before the race. More than that, I had a run-in with a medical professional as well as two potentially life-changing events that required full attention and two full days worth of my time. I was a bit distracted.

Add to this a situation that I support strongly but did allow for a slight change in my running routine was the noticeable absence of my biggest fan and support staff: Debbie. Before each race I get a well meaning kiss and at the end of each race I get to feel her embrace. Neither was present on this run. I missed her, plain and simple.

Thankfully, my long time friend Brian took the reins and did an exemplary job running through my checklist at each aid station. Not knowing my running needs or the nature of ultra running behind the scenes, he learned overnight what needed to be done and seeing him as often as I did felt like a warm blanket. His walking with me several times throughout the night reminded me of why he is so valuable a person to me. He is indispensable as far as friends go.

Aid station 3 took the runners off the salt flats entirely and routed us in the direction of our first hill climb. The route was gorgeous as I allowed myself the luxury of taking in the scenery. The steep grade kept my pace low but the climb was worth the view. Panoramic presentation #1. But every uphill had to have a downhill and this one allowed for my right little pinkie toe to slide benevolently beneath a pile driver as it slammed itself against the inside front my shoe. This backside of the hill was the only place where I felt some really nice temperatures too.

The next time I saw Brian was at Aid #5 where I took a little break, refueled, and prepared for the 22 mile round trip around the northern most section of the course. Here the course presented two unique sections of terrain. The first outgoing section could only be described as rock climbing, for the volleyball sized boulders and heavily rocked surface made it that much more challenging to climb yet another fantastic grade en route to aid #6, stationed at the peak. Panoramic view #2 exploded to me here and it was incredible. Stopping was mandatory only to see the arid spans of wilderness, not to enjoy the blistering cold winds or attempt to recover from the hill climb.

Departing the aid station I once again enjoyed the pounding action of the pile driver on my little toe. The drop down the valley was not long in process, yet once again an entirely new terrain feature presented itself. I suddenly found myself transported to the surface of some barren moon landscape where my feet plodded upon some tow inch thick crust of dried mud surface. Here the winds speeds increased, breaking up the fine particles of powdery mud crustiness and whipped them around my entire body. This lasted for nearly 7 miles until reaching aid station #7.

I hit my Garmin at what I thought was the 50 mile point and I had been out for twelve hours. I was proud of myself. I felt good, though cold and wind blistered, Feet were definitely hurting as the needle-like pain I experience at Across the Years came flowing back. My mental attitude at this point was good though I could tell the toll was higher than I expected on my body. At the aid station I ate some MRE hot meal something and after a thirty minute break, Brian kicked me back out.

Armed with my headlamp, I trotted off and over the next few miles enjoyed running several times. The road was agreeable to me, though headlong into the wind at this point. Throughout the day every time I stopped for even a minute I began to shiver. As the sun started to set the temperature did as well, and the coldness felt sharper too. I had been wearing my sweatpants all day, which, incidentally, were an afterthought throw-in item as I packed two days before. Not to mention the skeleton gloves Debbie threw in my bag. If it weren’t for her, I would not have had any gloves.

Aid station #8 and #9 passed by without much incident, other than at each one my stay was longer and getting back out on the course took more effort. By this time, I had to stop and stretch quite often while out on the course. Lower back, calves, hamstrings were all very unhappy with me. Guys from #8 came out and walked me in, and prior to #9 I met Emily and walked in with her, meeting up with Brian too.

And yet once again as I turned from #9 heading to #10, the terrain changed again, and my only thoughts were to get warm. This being yet another small hill climb took runner through what I can only describe as a city-sized bottle of Anti-Monkey Butt Powder being dumped all over. The fines powder poofed up around me with each step, the fine particles being illuminated in my headlamp. I didn’t even want to breathe.

Walking a mile here with Brian really helped, but once he turned back to retrieve his Jeep, the isolation of the night hit home. My mental strength had already begun to deteriorate, and this drilled holes in my resolution. My feet were stinging from what I thought were blisters that Brian taped up more than a couple times. The hills, though, really took a toll as my legs simply did not want to work properly.

At aid station #10 I was provided an opportunity to get warm and recover for some time. I was taken to an RV, owned by friends of Brian, and after removing my shoes and socks I rolled over and crashed. 0400 passed. 0430. 0500. 0600. I ended up sleeping off over three hours. Big mistake on my part. Yet I acknowledge there are times in your life when you make a decision based on all the gatherable circumstantial evidences available and simply decide. I needed the break. So I took it.

The problem was that once I got taped up again and kicked out again by Brian, station #10 had closed and I was pretty much on my own. It was 0700 and I had yet another hill climb. Brian pushed on ahead to #11 to let them know I was coming and I stepped off. Everything hurt and my energy level had been depleted. My pace for the four miles fell off sharply. It took me over an hour and a half to walk the distance, and at even the slightest downhill, an attempt at running proved to be impossible. My legs would not hold me up.

I caught up with Brian between 70-72 and made the call. Considering the next thirty miles contained more terrain features and the largest hill climb of the course, I felt that I did not have anything left to endure the final 30. Many other folks were in worse condition than I, yet to compare individuals would be misleading. My training had left me a bit short on the hills and my under-estimation of the course and weather were very amateur-like decisions. By the way, I AM an amateur endurance athlete. And with school, job, daughter, and other events shaping my life at home for Debbie’s and my future, I am ready to give my wife her husband back. For awhile.

Coyote Springs Windstorm

Talk about a race. I’m not even sure where to begin.

John Wog came in from CA and toghether we spent the night at the start/finish. It was a calm and peaceful night  camping under the NV desert stars. We woke up at 5, had some breakfast and coffee and at 7, John got kicked out for his 100. Half an hour later, the fifty-milers gathered for a parallel pre-race briefing. Key notes: the trail would be over marker and it would be impossible to get lost. The route would be marked with green or orange arrows, plus 1”by4” reflectors clothe pinned to plants along the trail. In my group were the 50M and 50K. There were 13 in the 50M group.

The first couple miles were basically to get us from the camp to the first loop (south). It ran on the road then veered left to the bluffs where it picked up the maze of trails that ran along the bluffs heading generally south-east. I felt very good heading out. By the time we hit the trails, I had a good groove and things were going smooth as we bounced up, down, over, around until we climbed up the switch-backs. These were a series of 180degree turns for a quick climb. We were told…do not come down the switch-backs (remember this point). So, up we went and over the bluff to the top and headed east to the old Hwy 93. We had half a mile of blacktop hillclimb to aid #1.

I had started out with my waterpak full of water (70oz) plus four packs of Hammer gel. I had downed 20oz water and two gels already, so I added water and more gels quickly and headed back out. The trail over the top surface of the bluff was extremely hard to follow. The arrows were far apart and hard to see with little to no recognizable trail to stay on.

I had taken over lead position of a group of maybe seven runners, most of whom were 50K. We hit the switch-backs, and I went down them. The opposite of what we were told. For some reason the arrow didn’t click with me. I didn’t get off course far, but it did take a toll. Climbing back up the switch-backs was a tough mental block. But I moved on into loop two (north) and headed to aid station two…That’s when the wind started. This was around mile 9 and time was actually flying by. Water and fuel intake continued to be spot-on, taking into consideration the change in terrain. The wind could not be overstated or under estimated. By the time I had reached aid station two, my energy level had begun to deteriorate severely.

I loaded back up with three more gels, 4 E-Caps, and another 20oz water. The northern most leg of the trails proved to be just as technical as the other three. The surface of the bluffs between the actual trails and the old Hwy93 consisted of various forms of shale and coral reefs. Various forms of vegetation provided a veritable stockyard of obstacles. Any lack of attention could have resulted in severe blood loss. Hey, that’s trail running.

The struggles really began to set en route to the start/finish. The depletion in energy levels happening so suddenly at such a high rate was surprising. For the five or six miles back, I analyzed what was happening, and narrowed it down to calories or water. Yet, both were not only on the level so far, I had compensated for the weather by increasing not only both water and calorie intake but had increased also the amount of E-Caps significantly.

I hit the start/finish and decided to keep going with a small break. I refilled everything and headed out on my 12mile out and back. It was pretty much level terrain, though rocky, loose sand, and rutted out severely. I ran a good mile with another couple runners until my energy once again fell through. I ended up struggling through the next 9 miles. Even at the one unmanned aid table three miles into the out-n-back only provided enough to give me water and a lara bar.

With the wind at my back on the way out, I thought I could manage better. The turn-around back took me directly into the promised 40-60mph gusts hit me directly in the face. For six miles back, I trudged step by step. I had a hard time getting any air, and even though I had another runner with me, the effort it took just to keep moving put us back to only a walk. Many times the pace was a crawl other times an all out stop.

By the time I got back to the start, I was done. Yet, the last thing I wanted was a DNF. So, I talked to one of the race directors and talked them to letting me drop down to the 50K. But that required another 6 miles. With that, I was allowed back out on the course for the 10K. I filled up my waterpack, and after a short rest, headed out.

Suffice it to say I don’t recall much of the 10K. Things were delirious most of the time, requiring me to find places to sit down often. Yet each time I sat, I began to cramp up in my inner thighs. The water ran out within 5 miles leaving only little sips of hot water from the few drops left just to keep my lips somewhat moist. The amazing thing I remember was simply not being able to breathe, as if I was at altitude. It was like the eind had sucked up all the oxygen.

My waterpak felt like I had been carrying a rucksack loaded with weights. I took it off and put it on over and over throughout the 10K. Nothing felt right, even my sunglasses. By the time I managed to get back to the finish, I couldn’t talk, and my entire body cramped from time to time in places I couldn’t expect to cramp. Its hard to explain what I was feeling. I ended up back at the truck lying on my cot with my wife laying wet paper towels on me to cool me down. Cramps were happening all over, including my lower left side, which felt like a cracked a rib.

My recovery took several hours. I managed to get back to the main tent where I started downing chicken noodle soup, water, more soup, more water. I think I even had a hot dog. During this time, John came in from his second loop and had decided to drop down to the 50K as well. His day was done too. We got reports that runners were doing the same thing across the board. All but one 50Miler dropped down to the 50K or half marathon except for one runner who was actually peeing blood. Many of the 100miler dropped to the 50M or 50K as well. Reason: the winds were simply taking everything out of the runners. Adding to the winds were the precarious trails, and many, already feeling exceptionally drained physically, chose not to face the inherent dangers of the trail at night. So, with that I ended my day with an 8 hour and 37 minute 31 mile run. On a scale of challenge this one hit the roof. On a scale of races to do in the future, I think this one bottomed out.

 

Death Valley Full 2012

This race is fast becoming an annual race for me, and hopefully next year it will include a family gathering for the weekend. (They dont know about the idea, yet.) Beginning at Furnace Creek Ranch the run headed north in the directio of Stovepipe Wells, 13.1 miles of track upon which the infamous Badwater Ultra is held. Weather was significantly different than last year, as temps were favorable for shorts and tech-tee as oppsoed to huddling around a fire mineutes before the race last year. High temp that day reached nearly 80 degrees.
My current training program consists of a schedule set-up for my initial 100-miler for the end of April. Jared Sweet, my coach, has much the credit for providing me with the parameters for this race. My limitations included a 10min-per-mile pace cap and to be self-sustaining as best I could. This resulted in carrying all my water and fueling needs for the entire marathon. Jared knows his stuff.
I carried with me a full camelback of over one half gallon of water, a Hammer fuel bar, a bottle of Hammer Perpetuem, and six Hammer Gel packs. Total weight? All things considered maybe another 6-8 pounds? Doesnt sound like a lot, until you carry it over 26 miles. In the end, it proved to be the race maker for me.
The pace was a very enjoyable, minimal effort pace. I was able to carry on a conversation with several other runners at various times. We were not authorized headphones, and talking became a good alternative. My little group of runners within a two-mile radius experienced some pretty good headwinds at mile 9-10 through the turn-around. Once we headed back to the finish, it was full on into the sun with no wind break. That's when the heat started to rise and where my water plan paid off.

Having the water tube at mouth level allowed me to sip every mile. The constant flow of water kept me going. By the time I reached mile 20, I had begun to pass runners who werew whowing signs of dehydration as they trod slowly on. Aside from the normal pains in the thighs and some knee issues, my pace only slighted on one hill and while making some food adjustments.
My time was ten minutes slwoer than last year, but all things considered, the race was significantly better. Control was maintained throughout, management of my resources was spot-on, and mental clarity was actually quite acute. (I like that word.) So, keep this on the radar? Definitely.

Bloodlines

This story can be rightfuly categorized in the "No Way" box. That I am adopted may be of public information. What may not be familiar to most is the long-term process I have experienced in an effort to establish some sort of connection with my bloodline. The initial search began back in the early 90's and it basically ended in failure.
Up until that time I had never considered the aspect of rejection, but once the mediator made the limited 3 attempts at opening the door, I felt the fullness of the word under such contexts. Not only did my birth mother not answer or acknowledge the certified letters, but she would not speak to my mediator either. That was during a time when that 'rejection' word was being felt quite heavily as I was going through a domestic struggle that would not cease.
I let the matter drop. A decade passed, then another. Once again I found myself revisiting similar thoughts and desires, only this time I seem to have this drive that lends more to health and well-being as my age topped the over-40 generation. The difference in the intervening years: The age of technology has come full circle and I have access to more databases than I had even hoped. I have discovered more information than I can ask or think. It wasnt until 23Jan12, just a couple days ago, that I realized the proximity within which I had come in finding out my bloodlines.
I know my mom's name. I know the name of the man she married two years after I was born. I know her relatives, and thanks to the almighty Facebook, I have seen pictures. I also know the street address where she lived when she married, since I have the marriage certificate/application from the state of Texas....and this is where it gets really amazing.
The property records of her address way back in 1969 indicate the prperty never left her maiden name's family. To sum it up: my mom's parents and my grandparents lived in that residence up until thier death. Who owns it now, I'm not sure. But I do know this: When I deployed in 2007, I deployed from Biggs Army Airfield in El Paso, Texas and both were still alive. The area from which we departed was a building offsite from the ain terminal at one end of the tarmac. Near the fence that marks the border of the post. And as it turns out, the house in which my grandparents lived, the same house in which my mom lived when she most likely was carrying me, was no less than a few hundred meter from the building I deployed from, just on the other side of the fence.
Another interesting note: my grandmother served at a Prebsterian Church in El Paso in which she was memorialized. The service was publicized and included a picture of her. The resemblance is striking, especially in the nose.
What's more, while I was in my mobility phase at Ft. Bliss in El Paso, I visited Beaumont Army Medical Center a few times. The address listed on the marriage cert for the man my mom married was only a couple blocks away from the Med Center, and which I might have passed by on more than one occassion.
I do not know if that man is my father, so I have not indicated as such. Reasonable certainty would say he is, but until I know for sure, I cannot claim. I do know that he lives in Las Cruces, NM now.
As for my mom? The mobile home she was living in until Augustof last year burned down. I saw photos of the ruined framework and the fire investogator's report. I also was able to secure her current address and phone number. The question I face now: With all this effort at making contact, do I still go through with it? The chance for rejection remains strong, but as she turns 66 this year, I should think that I don't want to miss this opportunity.

Half a Year Gone By

Since I completed my first 50 back in April I have been focusing heavily upon my studies with running coming in a close second of activities that take up my time. So many things have happened in the last six months I have trouble narrowing it all down. I suppose working backwards might be a good approach:
1. Ragnar Relay Las Vegas: Still coming down from the high and physical demands of this 12-person relay I am happy to have been able to captain this team. Hopefully we will assemble the team again next year and be even better!
2. Team Challenge had a Sunset 5K where after hiring my coach back I had this race as an evaluation race to see where my conditioning had taken me. I took 10th overall, 2nd in my age group with a time of 24min.
3. Labor Day weekend proved to be a huge pride weekend for me as I signed up for three full marathons over the weekend. I ended up with a full, a half, and a DNF. CAR in CA.
4. Ragnar Relay Great River: What a great time. This was an ultra team and was simply incredible. Alec and I are attempting to put together a CO ultra team.
5. Badwater: As a support crew member this was a chance of a lifetime opportunity to pace with John Wog for 90 miles before dehyrdation took him out hard.
6. Devil: I got my revenge in June when I ran the full Devil marathon and cleared a 5:19 time.
7. Run the Beach: I attempted to break 4 hours with this one and sabotaged myself. Too much Fizz and anti-fatigue and not enough water. Took me five hours but I got a first place!

I have also been back to drill status and have only been paid for one drill so far. ON top of that, I had to pay back 6 days of terminal leave they oversharged me, then my tires finally gave up and I had to fork over another grand on new ones. Schoolwork going very well finally raising my GPA to 3.0.

So.....I think I am back online. I might touch up on some of these races in soon-to-be posts. It depends on how much schoolwork I get done!