The Rest of the Story

“Just when I thought I was out … they pull me back in.”
- Michael Corleone, from The Godfather, Part III

I’ve mentioned something in this space a few times previously which bears repeating now: quite often, I don’t know what the hell I’m talking about.

And so it is that I’m resuming this blog. It seems almost ridiculous now, but five weeks ago, this writing gig became such a low priority in my life, so quickly, that I didn’t think there was any way I’d ever consider it remotely important. I got caught in a bit of a whirlwind there for a while.

Remember all that stuff I wrote about my new job, my fellowship, life getting busier, etc? Well, that was all true - but there was a bit more to the story.

It’s complicated, but here it is in a nutshell: last month, my wife was diagnosed with cancer. A pretty bad variety. So bad that we spent a week envisioning a very different future for our family.

We gathered a few additional consultations and eventually saw an expert who assured us that her tumor wasn’t malignant, and a subsequent biopsy confirmed his thoughts. And lately we’re feeling much better – but we’re not finished with it yet. She’ll have surgery very soon, and a recovery that will be challenging, and we still aren’t 100% certain that someone won't come back and tell us that the more ominous diagnosis was really the correct one.

So in the space of several days, blogging seemed remarkably inconsequential in the grand scheme of things. Walking away seemed like the clear decision.

But we're in a better place now. We're at peace with the course of action we're taking. We're very hopeful for a positive outcome. And after the dust of her situation settled a bit, my wife brought up the idea of reviving the blog.

We had a conversation that went something like this:

Her: So how come you’re not blogging anymore?

Me: I felt like I wanted to stop. Seemed like the right thing to do.

Her: You’ll miss your writing. It might be a good outlet for you to maintain.

Me: I don’t know … it's not really that important.

Her: I think you should keep doing it.

It surprised me a bit, in that things I’ve written here have made her uncomfortable at times, to say the least. (Put it this way: let’s say you’re married to a sociopath. Would you want that person running uninhibited all over cyberspace proving exactly how twisted he is – or would you prefer to keep him on a short leash and hope nobody notices? It’s not that different in our case.) But once she said the word, it seemed to make sense. And that’s when I wrote that interim post.

However, like I indicated there, I’m changing my methodology a bit, which I’ll explain more next time (and yes, the comments are turned off intentionally). Even before this whole deal went down, I had been contemplating ways to go about blogging differently, both in terms of content and style. What better time is there to try a new approach than after something gets turned upside down?

Here’s a snapshot of how crazy things have been lately: I haven’t watched VH1 for almost four weeks. That’s like a nun going for a month without saying the rosary. In fact, it was only thanks to last week’s rerun of Saturday Night Live that I realized the guy from My Name Is Earl apparently doubles as the drummer for The Killers.

(What’s worse is that nobody wrote to notify me of this. Can’t there be some sort of pop cultural Amber Alert system to tell us when a new Green Day video is released, when Jon Stewart is a guest on The Late Show, or when a celebrity has to withdraw from a reality show after finding out her husband is at home boinking the nanny? Don’t tell me you wouldn’t sign up for this. Sorry, I’m rambling again …)

I’m guessing that posts will be quite sporadic and even more off-topic than usual until I settle into some sort of groove. I’ll try to maintain the running/tri- related context, but consider this fair warning that the subject matter could be all over the map here for a while. In other words, you have no idea what you’re in for.

Even more frighteningly, neither do I. But I guess that’s what makes things interesting.

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Call It a Comeback

OK, I've had some time to think about it ... and I've decided I'm not quite ready to completely abandon this blog yet.

While this isn't exactly "Michael Jordan returning and wearing number 45" caliber news, I thought that anyone who still checks this space might be interested to hear it.

But here's the catch: things are going to be different. They have to be. And I'm still sorting through a lot of thoughts and ideas about what I want from this forum. It's complicated, but I'll explain everything in a future post.

In the meantime, just know that I haven't entirely given up here. I'll be back.

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Downsizing

This is one of those posts where I want to be very descriptive, without actually revealing too much information about people around me. So I’ll try to be careful here.

When I started this blog last October, I was as settled in my career as a guy could get. I had been working in my position for 10 years, with a kinda-sorta-pretty-much positive assurance of eventual promotion to a director position just by hanging around the department and continuing to do what I did.

Professionally, I was on cruise control. I was very well-skilled with my work, and didn’t dedicate any extra time to the job outside of work hours. That’s when Running and Rambling was born.

At the beginning of 2007, a different opportunity presented itself: a position with the same company, in an administrative role, but quite unrelated to the job I was comfortable with. It would require a greater time commitment and on-the-job training to learn new information and the politics of our business. Essentially, I would be starting a new career almost from scratch, and I was uncertain if the bridge to my old profession would be left standing once I crossed it. Needless to say, I was bit nervous about the decision.

However, the long-term potential for career growth and autonomy (and pay – definitely a consideration) was much greater than I had in my comfortable job. It was also a chance to work with people whom I liked and respected, which was a huge factor in my deliberations.

I took the new position, and everything worked out very well: I settled into my new role fairly quickly, and established a satisfactory balance between work, training, and family time. I even had time to maintain my blog.

Very soon my role with the company will develop further, as I’m taking on more responsibilities, and being promoted to an expanded role for the second time in less than 12 months. (Apparently, someone around here thinks I’m doing good work. Which sometimes surprises me, given that my job has nothing to do with running, writing, or watching music videos - things I consider to be my better talents.)

I’m going to be traveling a lot, learning a whole new set of administrative duties, and participating in a two-year fellowship program that will demand some independent study time. I won’t have nearly as much unstructured time as I currently enjoy.

And by now you probably know where this post is heading.

I need to re-prioritize the places where I direct my time and energy, and eliminate some of the things that distract me from that focus. One of the primary casualties of this reshuffling is my blog.

If you’re sad to read this – believe me, I’m sadder to write it. But I don’t need to blog. I need my career to earn money. I need family time to keep me happy. I need training time to keep me sane. And regardless of how much I enjoy it, blogging clearly doesn’t belong in the same category as those other things.

So this will most likely be the last post in this space for the foreseeable future. Possibly forever. It’s not that I’ve run out of things to say. I’ll just be lacking the time and attention I need to voice my observations and musings in the style I’m accustomed to.

Maybe at some point down the road you’ll hear from me again in one capacity or another. Obviously, I love writing, so I'll certainly gravitate back towards it. I'm thinking of trying my hand at different topics or formats, although those ideas are still very primordial. Who knows what the future has in store.

I’m going to keep my Bloglines subscriptions going, and I'll browse some blogs when I'm able to, and maybe even drop an anonymous comment here and there if the spirit moves me (don’t worry, I’ll identify myself). I'm also keeping my contact e-mail address open if anyone feels the need to stay in touch - for example, I'm more than happy to offer free advice for anyone coming out to run the Bug Sur Marathon next April. So you always know where to find me.

But writing this, I have the same kind of feeling as a high school kid saying goodbye to his longtime girlfriend before going off to college. Sure, there’s a chance that we could ultimately have a long-term relationship - but in the back of my mind, I know the odds aren’t great. It's sad in a way, but if we each move on to something more fulfilling, then it's the best decision in the long run.

Don't feel bad for me, because I'm really excited about the things that I'm doing. And if you've learned only one thing from this blog (um ... besides the fact that I'm an idiot), it's that I'll figure out a way to carve out enough family time and training hours to keep myself happy. It will just take some time.

Finally, it would be bad form to bail out of here without thanking everyone who shared this space with me over the past year. To everyone who left a comment, sent me e-mails, or linked to my posts from your own sites: thank you very much. Each contact was greatly appreciated. I’ve found joy and felt appreciation from a number of talented, passionate people in this medium, and I feel a connection of some sort to each one of you who put your stories and lives out there for all of cyberspace to see.

So thanks again for spending the past year with me. It’s been a lot of fun. I wish all of you health and happiness in the days to come.

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Hibernation

"Wake me up when September ends."
- Green Day


One of the downsides of reading a lot of blogs is the inevitable feeling that you’re never doing enough to keep up.

Nearly every day you’ll read about one person’s marathon, another person’s ultra, someone’s 80-mile training week, or somebody else’s hike to the top of some mountain.

And when you’re sitting at home (or – who are we kidding? – at work) reading all of these things, it inevitably makes you feel like your own training regimen pales in comparison. If left unchecked, those feelings can often turn to thoughts of inadequacy and hopelessness.

We’re in danger of becoming like an overweight teenage girl watching runway models at a fashion show on TV: after a while, we figure there’s no way we’ll ever be able to measure up to those standards, so we stop trying.

If that’s a familiar feeling for you, then today you’ve come to the right place. Because with this post I’m going to tell you about all that I haven’t done in the past two weeks.

It’s traditional for me to go into a hibernation phase for a few weeks following a big race, and ever since this month’s triathlon, I’ve been just about as lazy as a guy can get. I sleep in nearly every day, eat as much as I want to, and do almost no exercise while recovering from the recent event. Believe me - when it comes to being a slacker, I can compete with the best of them.

So here then is my workout log over the past 16 days:

Swimming: none
Cycling: 1 day, 20 miles
Running: 2 days, 9 total miles.

That’s it. That’s the list.

But I don’t stop at mere sloth. I like to add a heaping dose of gluttony into my post-race apathy phase. I’ve already indicated that I’m a good slacker – but when it comes to eating, I approach Hall of Fame caliber. Think of Elvis Presley circa 1976 (minus all the drugs), and you’ll have a fair estimate of what my life is like in the afterglow of a major race.

It’s no accident that I don’t keep a nutritional sidebar like some bloggers are apt to do. Otherwise I’d have to account for the vast amounts of brownies, muffins, lemon bars, Dove dark chocolate, ice cream, pizza and French fries that I’ve consumed recently. Not to mention, when I’m in feeding frenzy mode, I’m the Kobayashi of chocolate chip cookie-eating.

So if you’ve been feeling inadequate, rest assured that you’ve probably taken care of yourself way better than I have lately. You know how people say that you shouldn’t make yourself feel good by putting others down? Well sometimes, that’s a load of crap. In some cases you simply want to find comfort or reassurance through any available means.

I’m willing to play the fall guy this week, and for the remainder of the month. So go ahead - feel better about yourself on account of my laziness. It’s OK, really. I’m fine with it.

If you’ve run more than twice in the last two weeks, you’ve done more than me. If you’ve been out of bed before 7:00 AM, you’ve had more discipline. Heck, if you’ve declined even one cookie or said “no thanks” to a third helping of chocolate cake, you’ve shown more self-restraint than I have. Congratulations.

But don’t get too accustomed to all this, because by the end of next month, I’ll be back on the horse. And if you want to keep up once I hit training mode again, you darn sure better be running.

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Fantasy Ride

Reason #158 why I love the information age: remote blogging.

Thanks to remote Internet access, I was able to keep up with some blogs, drop a few comments here and there, and even managed to publish a new post on Tuesday, all while my family and I spent the week away from home. Admit it, now – you couldn’t really tell the difference, could you?

If my typing seems somewhat giddy - not to mention a little exhausted - today, it’s because we’ve just returned from the so-called Happiest Place on Earth: Disneyland, California, USA.


During our weeklong vacation, our kids had an absolute blast, and completely forgot about school and soccer teams and whatever other concerns they encounter in their daily routines.

On the other hand, my thought process stayed fairly true to form, in that I kept thinking of oddball blog posts I could have written. Most of those musings centered (predictably) on an amusement park theme, and one of them is the topic of today’s post.

Our kids range in age from 2 through 8 years old, which makes for difficult logistical management in deciding which attractions to visit. The older two kids go on the biggest roller-coasters, while the youngest is limited to areas like the carousels or kiddie rides where her older siblings don’t like to dawdle.

But on our final day at the park, we all spent time together in Fantasyland, on the old guard of original Disneyland attractions: Peter Pan’s Flight, and Mr Toad’s Wild Ride.

It was on this second ride that I wondered what in the heck we were doing there.

Here’s a brief synopsis of Mr Toad’s Wild Ride: Psychologically unstable Toad publicly demonstrates erratic behavior while driving himself to a pub. Departing the pub, he causes widespread havoc while crashing through rural fences and haystacks in his attempt to evade police pursuit. He is ultimately captured, tried and convicted, but somehow allowed to go free – at which point he immediately gets behind the wheel again and crashes directly into an oncoming train and dies. He descends into the bowels of hell to be eternally tormented by what can be best described as Satanic-looking rats. And that’s where the ride ends.

(Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Disneyand! Fun for all ages! Be sure to bring the kids!)

Seriously – that’s the story. I’m not making any of this up. I mean … is there any possible way this ride would be green-lighted today? It’s essentially “Mr Toad’s DWI.”

It also got me to thinking … the ride is basically a 2-minute morality play, teaching that if you do the crime, you’ll do the time - in one form or another. So why couldn’t we update it a bit? Tell the same story, but with a more recognizable character that today’s kids can identify with.

While we’re at it, we could also combine some of the “Star Tours” virtual motion technology with the visual and sensory effects of “Soarin’ Over California” to create a 21st century application of our modern-day ethics lesson.

I’m imagining an attraction called “Mr Landis’s Wild Ride”.

The ride would start with a tough Alpine stage in the Tour de France: your bike (the cart you’re sitting in) would spurt and struggle up an enormously steep hill. You feel your legs get heavy with lactic acid as packs of riders pull away from you. You see and hear the densely packed crowds screaming just inches from your bike as you inch closer to the summit. You feel your energy wilting as the temperature rises above 90 degrees. Maybe you’d even smell the wafting body odor of hundreds of French people who camped out for weeks just for the honor of spitting at American cyclists (timed in coordination with a light misting of water from the auditorium ceiling - talk about a memorable sensory effect.)

Then, without warning, you feel a pin-prick sensation in your backside as you’re injected with an unknown substance. You don’t know what the substance is, or how it got there. Maybe it was an accident. All you know is, suddenly you feel a lot better.

For the remainder of the climb you feel your legs becoming lighter and gaining strength while you’re churning up the hill as if connected to a tow rope. Breakaway riders come back to you so fast you have to swerve to avoid them. The heat becomes less of a factor as you use cold water bottles to douse your shoulders and back.

Finally you crest the summit and begin your descent. You feel the wind whipping against your face and the unsteady balance as it blows your bike unpredictably from side to side across the road. Your bike/cart tilts at 45-degree angles as you experience the hairpin curves of the mountain descent. You sense the exhilaration of descending at 60 mph towards the finish of the day’s stage.

Unfortunately, the ride isn’t over at the finish line. You keep pedaling across the French countryside, evading drug patrol officers who want a urine sample. You smash through fields of sunflowers and blockades of media vehicles, and end up crashing the bike onto the set of the Today show, where a pitchfork-wielding Matt Lauer continually yells “You cheated!!”

You’re found guilty and about to have your title revoked, when suddenly … you just disappear. Your teammates and sponsors stop calling, friends and reporters abandon you, and you’re never heard from again.

And that’s where the ride ends. (Hey – it’s no less gloomy than that Mr Toad ride.)

At least, that’s the 2006 version. Five years from now, maybe there will be an alternate ending that concludes amidst an adoring throng on the Champs-Elysees, with the smell of a victors’ bouquet and the sound of your national anthem soaring overhead. We could always edit that Matt Lauer stuff out later.

But alas, it seems like the 2006 version is the one that’s here to stay.

You know, this might not be such a crazy idea. Maybe I should give those Disney people a call.

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Mr. 35 - HM - 3 - FT

At last weekend’s triathlon, I was reminded of one aspect of the sport that I keep waiting for running to adopt: writing each competitor’s age on his or her calf.

It seems like a simple detail, but it has an enormous impact on the competitive dynamic of a race.

I wrote in my race report that I was passed twice during the final mile of the run. I also stated that I wasn’t overly concerned, because neither person was in my age group. Given the way I was feeling, I didn’t feel like shifting into battle mode at that point of the race.

What I didn’t say was, I definitely would have fought them if there were age group places at stake. It would have been ugly and nasty and miserable … but I totally would have done it.

And sure, I’m a competitive person, but I’m certainly not alone in this regard. It’s almost like there’s some primal instinct that kicks in when you know you’re getting passed by someone of the same age. Even if there’s not a competition for age group awards, everyone likes to know where they stand among their chronological peers.

It’s natural to compare ourselves to others based merely upon age. But everybody knows that when it comes to race performance, age is usually only half the story.

So why stop with age? Why can’t we write other pertinent information on our legs, so our competitors will better understand exactly who they’re going up against?

During my next race, here’s what I’d like to see on the calves of runners next to me, and what the markings might say about each runner’s ability:

35: Age. For obvious reasons.

M or S: Married or single. Does being married make someone a better runner? On one hand, marriage usually implies a time commitment (at least that’s what I’m told). On the other, it helps to have a support person during strenuous training periods. So this factor is a bit of a wash – maybe we don’t really need it. But what if we could have…

HM or TM: For “Happy Marriage” or “Troubled Marriage.” Wouldn’t a happy runner train more effectively than a stressed-out one? Or does the guy in a bad marriage spend extra time out on the roads to avoid his problems?

(You know what? Let’s just leave marriage out of it. It's too emotionally charged, with too many variables. But there’s no question about…)

3: Number of kids. Put it this way – which woman would you be more impressed by: a 38-minute 10K runner with “0” on her calf, or a 41-minute runner with a “4” there? I rest my case. And I haven’t even mentioned the women with an “S” as well as a “2” – they deserve some sort of prize just for showing up with two matching socks on.

FT: Full-time job. This is the eternal working man’s (or woman’s) complaint: that if he didn’t have to work so many hours per week, he’d have a lot more time for training, and would do much better in races. I was also thinking we could further break this down into ML (manual labor) or CDJ (cushy desk job), but that might start to resemble classism, and I’d be afraid that somebody might get sued.

Anyway, speaking as an FT guy, I empathize with the working stiffs out there – and whether valid or not, I wouldn’t feel nearly as bad about being passed by a guy with PT (part time) or U (unemployed) on his calf.

SLWP: Still Lives With Parents. Honestly, I don’t know how this affects performance, but at least it would give me a chuckle while I’m getting passed by that mama’s boy.

Clearly, there are all sorts of benefits to knowing this information in running events. But why stop there? Why can’t we establish a similar system with other aspects of our lives?

Take your workplace, for instance. Wouldn’t it be great if your coworkers wore labels with this type of personal information? (This is where my idea stumbles a bit, because except for strippers and lifeguards, most people’s calves aren’t visible at work. But we could come up with some alternative – name tags, patches, lapel pins, something. There's got to be a way.)

You would know how many years away your boss is from retirement age, and exactly how young his hood ornament receptionist is. HM-3 guys wouldn’t feel as much pressure to keep up with the S guy who starts putting in 60-hour weeks. And that SLWP thing would be just as funny.

Now imagine if all businesses did this. When you go out for coffee, you would know the relationship status of that cute barista you make up reasons to buy lattes from four days per week. You’d know the real age of your hairdresser who perennially claims she’s only 39. And you might even be more tolerant if you're ever on the receiving end of rude customer service from the TM woman at the bagel shop.

The possibilities are endless, and generally beneficial. Over a period of time, we’d all come to experience heightened awareness and mutual understanding of those around us.

And all it would take is a little bit of body marking.

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Kahuna Q & A

As per my usual custom after races, the next couple of entries here will be a post-event breakdown of sorts.

First of all, I’m very appreciative and thankful to everyone who dropped me a note of encouragement before the race or afterwards. That’s one of the best fringe benefits of having a blog. (Actually, considering that nobody gets paid for this, and that it takes time away from more important activities, maybe it’s the only benefit of blogging. Sorry, I’m digressing already.)

In the comments after my race report, there were a few questions that seemed to come up repeatedly, and since I wasn’t able to respond directly to each one, that’s what I’m doing with this post.

You’ve probably seen post-game press conferences where the players sit behind a table and field questions from the media. If they’ve just won something important, they’ll be wearing a cap with something like “AFC Champions” or “NCAA Final Four” on it, to go along with their stunner shades and big gold necklaces.

So just for fun, let’s do the post this way: picture me sitting here in a black cashmere sweatsuit with medallions around my neck, leaning back in my chair, wearing big dark sunglasses and a cap that says “sub-5” tilted sideways on my head. I’m in press-conference mode, taking questions from my peeps.

***
Q: Is this really your last race of the year?

A: In all likelihood, yes. (And by “in all likelihood,” what I really mean is “unless somebody decides to pay my race fees for me.”) I don’t typically enter a large number of races each year, and in 2006 I’ve stepped back even more than usual.

I’m finding that I have greater success with a “less is more” approach to racing. My race results have been pretty decent, and I haven’t had any major injuries this year. Not to mention, those races get to be pretty expensive – and by doing fewer of them, I have more money available to buy crap I don’t need on eBay, or to support our family’s $40-per-month Papa Murphy’s habit. So it’s a win-win for all of us.

I’ve got one other pseudo-event lined up for next month which I’ll talk about as it gets closer, but otherwise, that’s it for 2006.

Which doesn’t mean I’m done blogging, of course – I mean, it’s not like the subject matter around here has ever been sharply focused on racing. Or on anything else, for that matter.

Q: So did you and Shakira hook up after the prom?

A: Next question.

Q: Are you going to stop being a full-time runner to pursue more triathlons?

A: Or, as Michelle appropriately put it, am I going to forsake the love of my life (running) to run off with the sexy mistress (triathlon) I’ve been tramping around with for the past few months?

Here’s what I wrote to her:

**Right now I’m like the guy who’s just left a “Dear John” note on the kitchen counter and snuck away from the house in the middle of the night, planning to run away with the mistress. I’m sitting in my car outside her house, not quite able to go to the door yet, wondering if I’m really making the right move.

I’m very close to the point of no return. But there’s still time for me to come back home and grab the note before my wife wakes up, and I’m not sure which way to go. That’s me – sitting, wondering, waiting – and running out of time. **
Yes, I know these things never work out. I could run off with the mistress, and one year from now her boobs will start looking ordinary, and I’ll notice that she has some annoying habits or that her breath stinks sometimes or that we’re not intellectually compatible, and I’ll feel like I’m stuck again. Then I’ll look for something even more exciting and outlandish, and end up repeating the cycle by flirting around with some fringe sport like street luge or BASE jumping. It doesn’t make sense - I know all that.

And yet … I’m still sitting in that car. And honestly, things could go either way.

(On a related note – how much mileage have I gotten out of this crazy triathlon/mistress analogy? Is everybody sick of it by now, or can I go to that well a few more times still? Feel free to weigh in on this.)

Q: Do you have plans for 2007 yet?

A: Yes. And no. It’s kind of complicated. I have a definite Plan A and Plan B, but I won’t know until the end of the year which one I’m going to do. I’ve mentioned these plans with just a few people, and for now, that’s all I’m going to say. Except that both plans are pretty darn cool. And they’re directly related to the previous answer.

But you’ll have to wait a few more weeks before I let any cats out of the bag. (How about that for a cliffhanger?)

Q: Did you really dance to “Time of My Life” in high school?

A: Next question.

Q: Do you really shave your legs? (Follow-up questions: If yes, how often? What’s your method?)

A: This seemed to catch a lot of people off guard, and in hindsight I suppose I can see why.

When I was single, it used to drive me crazy when I’d be chatting up some girl I had hung around and flirted with a few times, thinking I might have a shot with her, only to have her casually say something like “That’s a funny movie – my boyfriend and I saw it last week.” That would usually be followed by me locking myself in my apartment all night, watching Mafia movies and eating whole boxfuls of Chips Ahoy cookies for dinner (Gosh, I miss college sometimes).

Anyway, the lesson is this: if you’ve got a bomb to drop, it’s never kosher to do it in an incidental, “Oh by the way” manner. Not unless you want to give somebody a complex.

So I can understand the shock value of my brief mention about shaving my legs, and I apologize. If I had it to do over again, I would have told you all about it up front, so we could still be friends and there wouldn’t be any awkward feelings between us. You know, I really just want things to be cool again, like they were before. OK?

OK. To answer the follow-up questions, then: during the warm seasons - which in California frequently turns out to be something like nine months per year - I use clippers to keep my leg hair groomed and manageable. It's not unlike mowing the grass every two or three weeks: you don't want to take it all the way down, but maintaining a nice short layer makes it look sharp. Then during race season, I'll use a razor below the knee to get extra sleek. People always talk about putting their game face on; I think of this process as putting my race legs on.

I did let my wife use wax on me once, and, um … actually, I don’t want to talk about it. Those wounds haven’t quite healed.

***
Well, it’s getting late and I don’t want to keep the groupies in the limo waiting for me any longer, so we’ll end tonight’s press conference here. We’ve got dinner reservations at Dolce, and there’s a rumor that Diddy will be there tonight – and trust me, you just CAN’T be late for a Diddy Party.

So thanks again for your interest, and remember to keep it real.

(You know, just like I always do ...)

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