24 Hours of Old Pueblo 2009

For Me 24 Hours of Old Pueblo Race weekend started at 9pm on Thursday packing. All of the mtraining was done, the tapering and hill climbs nothing but the past. I had been hydrating all week but that night I didn't get till bed till 1am. I was up packing and getting my bike set up and ready. I ended up with 1 bag of race clothes, 1 bag of camp clothes, a race camelbak (Mule), a support camelbak (Havoc), a tent, a sleeping bag, a cot, 2 reusable grocery bags of food, and of course Miss Fit (my bike). Justin Showed up at 9am on the spot that Friday morning and off we went. Needless to say there wasn't much of anything exciting on our Drive to Phoenix. It was when we got there and started driving around to find a Walmart that things got surreal. As a young kid growing up I spent what feels like the vast majority of my summers at my grandmas house in Holbrook, AZ. Playing in the red sand, driving to Flagstaff, Sholow, Snowflake, Winslow, Payson, Mesa, Prescott and Scottsdale. My Grandma took me to see family members I may have only been distantly related to, but I loved those summers. As Justin and I were looking for a Walmart I swore we drove past Namina's House (My Great Grandma) in a very real way even though I was hundreds of miles from my house, I was home.
Eventually we found our store and got Water and Propane for lanterns and i was back to the hotel for our last night in a bed for what would feel like several nights. In the morning we made the 2 hour drive to just north of Tuscon in what felt like much less than two hours. No doubt the race was on both of our minds and the eager anticipation of the events were getting to us. About five miles before getting to our turn off Justin and I looked to were the events were supposed to be and we were surprised at what we saw. It was a town of white sitting in a sea of reds, tans, and cactus green right at the base of the main decent. We followed Oracle Road to mile marker 96 and made our left onto a dirt road perfect for rally racing. we took that for road for 9.6 miles and resisted every urge to race and drift Justin's little Subaru Impreza around the turns. When We got to camp we were surprised to find our Teammates Matt, and Jeff (J-Do) almost immediately to the left of the allowed camping area, about a half mile from the exchange tent that designated the start and finish of the race. At the time we finished setting up our nearest neighbors were 200 yards away.
In the tangle of Cholla (Choya) Cactus we were able to pitch our tents the cold winds reminding us that even though we were in the desert it was still February. Occasionally our efforts to tip toe among the Cacti were unsuccessful, and we'd spend a moment picking out needles. I got stuck twice in the hand setting stakes for my tent. Man are they nasty.
J-Do was our first man and as the race approached we sent him off to get started, we saw him a few moments later walking back towards our camp site. Apparently their was a Le Mond style start we were unaware of and J-Do although a great cyclist, was not happy about the run. A little while later while while around the camp talking with Justin and getting my lights situated and putting on my number plates we hear the cannon go off. The race has begun, and just like in High School on the swim team the adrenaline flows in anticipation of the efforts I will soon make.
Our Team (Riders on the Storm) order went J-Do, Matt, Myself, and Justin. unlike a swimming event we did not have only minutes to wait, for our time to race we had hours; very anxious hours. After getting camp set I I got dressed and ready, took an account of fluids and supplies and decided to add an extra tube to my pack, cause the Cholla just didn't look like a cacti to take lightly. Then I rolled into the tent city to see how things were. It was amazing. Campers, trailers, RVs and enough EZ-ups to create a labyrinth. The comotion at the exchange tent was confusing and organized all at the same time. There were hundreds of riders gathered together in this 20x30 foot space all violating every law of personal space while waiting to hear their team number to be called like a twisted game of bingo.
The process of he exchange was all new to me. after your team member left the next member in line would arrive at the tent hopefully a few minutes before the racing team member arrives. You cram into this little space so you can hear the announcer calling out the numbers of the racers crossing the finish line. After hearing your number you cordially announce your intent to force your way through the crowd and meet your teammate at a table. Here a volunteer (most of the time significant others and older kids of those racing) are in charge of logging you number range. You let the record keeper know who you are and your team mate hands you the "Baton" which is nothing more than a 1/2 wide, 4 inch long dowel rod with your team number written on it. After you exchange the baton you head out of the big tent to where you left your bike ( with everyone there understanding the value of bikes there are no thefts) you mount up and ride off. My first Lap came at 2:57 pm. After standing huddled in the exchange tent the announcer called "SIX - ZERO - THREE" I had expected to feel a rush of adrenaline, and a bit of nerves. I didn't though, I felt very calm, certain, and steady. Even though I was about to take on sixteen miles of desert I had never seen. I didn't think about anything other than to act.
Right out of the gate the trail was a narrow single track that had tight S-turns and dips. Cacti demanded your attention and in fact was the very reason that many of the turns existed in the trail. But the track had flow and motion to it. You didn't have to pedal on some sections if you just flowed with it, and the flow was great. Eventually the gradual flowing decent turned onto a fire road that had six climbs that were referred to as "The B*tches." Where ever you ride, there is always a trail named that. These climbs though were the little sisters to the ones we have here in Cali. I was able to bomb down the backsides and by pumping and flowing with the decent and keeping off my brakes the whole time I approached almost 35 miles an hour near the bottom of the hills and was nearly able to coast my way to the top of the next climb. I know for a fact I made at least four people very mad on those climbs. They were the fellow racers I passed that looked like these climbs were bigger than what they were used to.
After that fire road the trail did a small climbing loop and began a trek south following a fence and the flow I found earlier in this course continued here. Halfway down the fence you entered a Corral and started riding on the opposite side of the fence. From this point on you were dodging weaving and narrowly missing (and sometimes not missing) Cactus in all of its forms. Cactus at shin height, hand height, shoulder height, and the dreaded face height. Cactus Balls, Cactus Pads, Starfish Cactus and Cactus trees. All of them reaching for you. A blend of flow, adrenaline, joy, and caution.
Eventually this trail would wind its way south and then turn west. Crossing the forms of the land you would rise and fall, climb and descend always turning. Rarely a straight line to be found. I thought they were great and soothing. Trials and tests of skills at every turn followed by a test of endurance in the form of a quick climb. The last two legs were by far my favorite though. There was a gradual and pleasant climb that wound its way north after passing low and to the south of the Start/Finish line. It was steep enough to have me second guessing weather I had played a bit too much on the first half, but not so much as to have me negate playing on the next three laps. As this trail slowly turned its way north through the embedded quarts stone and even more cactus we reached what was the peak of the course. My favorite section of that course is were the spectators had climbed their way back and were ringing their cowbells at everyone who passed. I love cow bells. They'd yell out that we were near the finish and that gave me a needed mental boost. After passing what looked like a grave marker (like the ones that dot the highway on the drive here) the course makes a tight right and immediately the trail turned from mainly a dirt trail crowded with Cacti to a trail now void of cacti, but laden with rocks, narrow passes, fast turns and an option.
The option was a Black Diamond pass over a boulder cropping that was fairly steep, or a Green circle around said obstacle. Seeing that I was on a Rigid 29er I did the obvious thing, Show off. If you know me you know I like a good challenge. So off I went and I had a blast hearing the spectators call out, "Rigid Coming Down!" the thought quickly passed that I must be the most entertaining category, and that failure was about as certain as success. I took the challenge and rode it down with little effort, making a mental note that I'd have to do that on every lap. Soon after that there were more tight turns but this time right at the edge of camp. Spectators and participants waiting their turn all cheering you on as you make the final approach, then sooner than you think your at the finish line and hear the announcer calling out your number. As I walked in Justin was their waiting with a huge grin, and I passed the baton.
Heading back to camp I felt refreshed and ready for what the race had to offer. Little did I know how much it would change when night fell. My first Lap started at 2:57pm and ended at 4:23. I quickly added up our times and figured out what my next times would be. Lap two would be close to 9:00 pm. Lap three closer to 4:00 am, and my final lap would be around 11:30 am. I was dazed by the times I would be riding, and what time they meant I'd have to wake up and get ready. I rode the distance back to camp deep in thought about how I was going to fit sleep into those breaks. When I arrived I took a seat in our EZ-up and just sat trying to collect myself. J-Do helped me get a can of soup warmed up while I changed in the tent. It was then I realized that I didn't need that extra bag of "Camping Clothes" I had brought. There wasn't going to be time to change twice. I ate my corn chowder soup all huddled in what ever layers I could put on, and then after I was done eating I retired to the tent to sleep. Word to the wise, make sure your Cot is not longer than you tent. other wise you are going to be resting ( not sleeping ) on the cold, hard, miserable ground. After a few hours of tossing and turning J-Do woke me for lap 2.
9:08 pm Lap Two Begins. Matt enters the tent and greets me with frustration and a tired look. I get the baton and off I go to my bike. This lap is much like the first lap, except for one thing, it's dark, really dark. All of those great flowing features are harder to find and flow with, mainly because you are running around at 20 miles an hour with a glorified LED light on your helmet and a cleverly integrated kitchen light on your handle bars. if there was one way to describe this lap it would be a bad dream. You know it, you know you liked it, you think you can still control it, but it is just different. soon I got back into that flow. Down the B*tches then up, but pedaling more than before, down and up, down and up, down and up, the burn begins in my lungs. It spreads to my thighs as I go down and up again with one more cycle to go. I just go accepting the burn.
I don't know about every one else, but when I ride and there are times like these when your focus is not wholly on the ride. It will surprise you were your mind goes to find strength. The corral is now behind me as I ride for the far fence. As I make the turn west I now am riding into the wind, a very cold wind. On this lap I have added a few layers and they are thankfully keeping me warm. Pants and a jacket were a good choice. I find myself sucking on my Gatorade stashed in my camelbak a little more than I did on the last lap. I am also getting passed by riders every now and again, but keeping my strength and spirits high. I didn't expect to win or not to get passed. The last half of that lap is more of a ghost of a memory. Cold and hungry I stand and push the final climb retrieving myself out of a self induced trance, thoughts of happier and warmer moments, and then the decent. I love technical descents. the move and flow is back, aching muscles give in to joyful and poetic motion massaged by the rocks as they pass underfoot and rattle the bike. Then the option, and still only one choice. riding down the face definitely has it's challenges at 11 pm on mile 32 but it also has it's adrenaline laced reward and you fly the distance left to the tent.
This time the ride back to the campsite was, how shall I say it, Less peppy. More of a focused trance trying to remembering the ride. At camp it was time for more food, this time fruit and peanut butter granola bars, and lots of water. After that I went and changed right into the gear I'd need before the next lap. The clothes were SO cold, everything was cold. I opened 4 hand warmers and tossed them into the mummy bag I hoping that they'd warm things up even the littlest bit. I called out from my tent after getting ready to J-Do He was up next after Justin and I could not sleep until knew he was solidly awake and ready. Sleep came fast at that point irregardless of comfort, but still cold, very cold. Curse you RVer's and Camper trailers owners! Curse your warmth, your walls, your sinks, and comfortable beds. I curse you because I envy you.
3:30 am Lap Three wake up call. Sooner than I thought possible J-Do is back and Matt has been gone riding for an hour. It is time to get my already worn and still freezingly damp outer layer on. To be honest there is a point where you just don't care about the cold, or the sting, you just take a deeper breath and get ready. Because your team needs you, and because you told your self that "Can't" isn't an option. Getting out of the tent I hear something familiar, it is the Coyote and they are howling constantly. Demons of the night have infested their home and they sound sorrowful. The exchange tent is more spacious than I thought possible at this point, I guess 3:30 am is too early even for some racers. My number is called and in comes Matt. He does not look happy, in fact he looks more like a shell of Matt, His face is wind burnt, not a good sign for the conditions on my ride. blankly he hands me the baton and sullenly heads back to camp. I head out to what became my slowest lap, but I knew this was going to happen. In swimming I loved the 100 Freestyle. My fastest time was 54 seconds and I achieved it while swimming in a 4 x 100 relay and I was the third man. I know that in those 4 lengths of the pool my third lap is the toughest mentally on me, and so this third lap was for me FAR more mental that physical.
When ever I get to this point on long rides I know my focal point and that is key to know what to hold onto before you need an anchor. It has always been a conversation with my Heavenly Father. I know that in my deepest and darkest trials that when I am on my strait and narrow path He is what gets me through it. Weather I am talking about my life or listening to the lessons he and the trail collectively give me, I spin, ride, and listen. There are however times when things are more dark and trying than I have ever had up to that point. On this lap it was literal darkness as my lights started to die, I turned off my main light on the handle bars to save it for later on the more technical sections. For a long time I followed only the dimming light on my helmet. I had to trust my knowledge of the path, its twists, dips, turns and flow and my ability to handle them. on the climbs I ached. every bump transmitted from my rigid steel bike into my arms and back, legs burning, back aching, hands and feet numb to the cold. As my thoughts started to focus on what was wrong I knew I had to change it, or I'd focus on a negative, on the pain or the cold and that would only lead to desires to stop and dismount and find what rest I could in the bitter cold. So I did what I have always done when I get to my breaking point. I sing.
If there you know me you know that I am religious, So it shouldn't surprise you that I found myself singing Hymns I know from church. I wasn't belting them out like the a one man Mormonr Tabernacle choir, it was just enough for me to hear, and keep my breathing deep and controlled. "Come, Come Ye Saints", "High on a Mountain top", "True To the Faith" them all my little mantras of faith. After being physically and mentally stripped down this what is left. I turn north and begin to climb. In my own little world focused on the burn of the climb I listen to the Coyotes Howl, and hear the wind whip across me. I stand on the pedals and begin to march up the last bit of climbing to be found. My weakest and darkest lap close enough to being done that I can feel it. After the summit a piece of me returns as my lights are turned back on and I descend. I make a point of enjoying every feature, rock, dip and burm; finding opportunities to play. Then the Option. There is only one choice. I take it and this time a cardboard cut out of Golem (Shmeegal) was the gate keeper. I do a mean Impression and in my best Golem Voice I say, "Oooo Shmeegal Likesss the rocksss, Letssss Play!" then all too soon the tent and the sound of "SIX-ZERO-THREE." This time as Justin meets me I confirm that that was a death march, and envy that for him the sun was just cresting the horizon. He tells me of his SPD fall just getting out of the camp to get to the exchange tent. Fatigue is getting to all of us, I wish him luck, and head off lazily to camp.
My final lap time was supposed to be 11:30 am, but if you know anything about plans you'll know that they are the first casualty of any engagement. Matt has declared himself unfit to ride, he was wasted and tired, and the cold had definitely gotten to him (at least this time is wasn't curry). J-do was getting ready to go, and after a quick discussion we decided that I would roll into Matt's place and ride again at 9:30 am cutting my rest time from Five hours to Three. But surprisingly I was excited. I had set a goal of four laps and was getting an opportunity to take a victory lap sooner than anticipated. Again freezing I changed in my tent and forced myself to put on colder clothes than I ever thought possible. (Later we found out that the temps had dropped below freezing that night) and I cuddled into my sleeping bag still a little warm from the hand warmers I'd left in. I knocked out fairly fast in my comfortable haven.
Awake and feeling great after 2 hours I get dressed, again with the damp and cold pants and jacket I used on the last two laps, I fill my camelbak with hot water to make my Gatorade in hopes of keeping my core temp normal in teh cold. The sun is out and it is a little bit warmer than the night. Again at the exchange tent and the demented game of bingo begins. Winners gets 16 miles of cacti strewn desert to dodge. "SIX-ZERO-FOUR" Dang! I hate when there's a tease number, wasted adrenaline. Ten minutes Pass standing on faulty legs. Then J-Do is in sight, and my last lap, my victory lap begin. So far No crashes, No cactus needles to remove, No Flats, just planned and scheduled pain. With the light on the course again I find old flows, reach old speeds, and feel much better about the paths that I am on. I can see ahead and plan my lines if only one turn ahead. Through the climbs, around the little loop, pass the corral, along the fence, Right turn to the west.
The Wind is now playing the instigator and trying to push you back along the bottom trail on the course but it is light and knowing that I am half done is more fire of self accomplishment than this pathetic wind can put out. Turning north for the climb something starts to feel wrong. My right knee is screaming. I ride with my left leg only clipped in and pulling double duty, but when I ask my knee to work again it is not happy. Only Four Miles Left. I have done Sixty miles in 17 hours I cannot NOT finish this. I am frustrated now, I know how bad knee injuries can be and I don't want to push it. I take a break on a the top of a climb. I stretch, I relax, and I say a quick prayer. If you know me you'll know that if there was one word to describe me it's persistent, or stubborn, but I prefer the former. For the next three miles I find every way I can think of to use that knee without making it any madder than it already is, my efforts are met with little success. I take one more break about 200 yards from the summit Now it's getting hot and I take of my trusty jacket and a base layer. I wanted to sport the colors as I finished so that worked out well. If there is one place I have ever been proud to work for and consider its members family, It's JensonUSA.
I get back on that bike and pedal past the summit. I Love Cow Bells. They're like a sirens song that calls you home. As people start to dot the sides of the trail and cheer the only thing you know is the trail. There is no pain, no hunger, no thirst. The flow and the speed are back. Pumping instead of pedaling to keep sane, and then the Option. There really is only one choice. A few riders that were a bit ahead took the easy way, but I did what I have always done at that point. I knew there were people watching, but they didn't exist it was me and the Option; and it was fun. At the bottom II passed those taking the 'easy' way and had the energy I needed to follow the flow, to break the monotony and the montra and have fun; then the finish. All too soon or not soon enough I cannot say.
J-Do was waiting for me there ready to finish the race to personally see that his goal of a rider on the course for all 24 hours was accomplished. I passed on the baton to his charge, and started to coast back to camp. I was now done, I was tired, and I hurt, but I did it. I hit my goal. On the glide back to camp I approached the climb that early yesterday hadn't even been a thought, now I walked it. Spent, tired and cold. When I got back to camp I ate a few things and tried to shake the daze and fatigue. Slowly I retired to my tent and got some dry and freezing clothes on. I crawled into my hand warmer warmed sleeping bag and on the rocks and solid ground of the desert found comfort and rest.

As you can guess I did not have a lot of time to take pictures, and have linked pictures to other riders they are great photos, but not mine. Also there were some Race photographers you can see the pictures they took at FreezeFrameFoto.com In the Pull down menu select 24 Hours in the Old Pueblo. After that My Bib number was 603 The pictures are not fantastic, but they are of me riding in the race. I'm not about to pay $50 for the JPG image. Also to look at the Results you can GO HERE and see our lap times we placed 67th out of 129 teams in the four man open class (for Geared or Single Speed Bikes)

A 24 hour race in my mind is something you MUST experience. It is unforgettable for many reasons. If you were to ask If I would do this again, my answer would be Yes, without a doubt or hesitation. Life is for living, and NOT for living only comfortably in an ambient temperature of 72*. To never be challenged, to never feel the extremes of weather or to never bleed. Life is to be felt, to be worn out, to be challenged, and to be hurt so that you can better appreciate the comfort, the warmth, the new, the success, and the restoration of health, and most importantly to better appreciate the ones that you missed when you were alone.

Achieving a Cherished Goal

Have you ever written a list of things that you want to do in the next few years? It’s a habit I have had for some time now. I am the kind of person that needs to see something every day to get me to do it. I found one of those lists about a month ago that I wrote in 2004. I was actually stunned that I had accomplished a good majority of it. BUT (there is always a but) there was one item that nagged at me more than any other; Goal #5, Race Mountain bikes. 

I'd lost 25 pounds, I'd gotten the family mini Van, I'd Continued schooling, and heck I'd even landed a position in marketing, a 10 year goal, in 2 years (and in the cycling industry of all places.)  To know why this nagged me you have to know a little more of whom I am. Since I was 12 and all through high school I was an avid swimmer and competed in swim meets regularly. It was a way of life. Every two weeks to feel those butterflies, Set the goggles, stand on the blocks, and Explode on the buzzer. I kind of miss it, and by miss it I mean the test. You spend all this time swimming laps in endless circles. And then given the opportunity to prove it was worth it. 

Last week while I was at work I found out that a group of four guys were going to a 24 hour race in Arizona, and had a team member drop out pretty much at the last minute. The opportunity was extended to me and a friend if either of us would like to go. Internally I was giddy, but played it calm and made sure that my friend knew he had first dibbs. We settled out who was going over a few rides. I won't get into details, but the chance to go was mine shortly after hearing, “You’re KILLING me Smalls" at a rest point. That was Last week, and OH the difference a week makes.

In case you are not aware a 24 hour race is just that; A race that lasts 24 hours. Now don't go thinking I am some Superman doing this alone, I am one man of four on a relay, but thanks for  thinking that highly of me :D . My goal is to run four laps. It is the 24 hours of Old Pueblo the site is HERE. The course is 16 miles and had 1200 feet of climbing, so I want to pull 64 miles and 4800 vertical feet. That Friday last week when I found out I was going I did something drastic, I stopped eating Chocolate, and drinking Soda. I know scary, I have found out in the last week that I am a bored eater, and must have been addicted to chocolate. It took 5 days to kill that, "NEED CHOCOLATE" Nag in my head. Now I am amazed at just how much we eat chocolate, and how much it is advertised. I have to say I think that was a brilliant choice. My other choice I am not so sure if it is brilliant, but time will tell. Being a past athlete I knew I could not just show up to a race and expect to hit my goal, so I set up a training schedule.

Saturday: Pain Tolerance –  20 miles 1230 ft, Warm down 10miles 500 ft

Sunday: Rest

Monday: Extended Commute with Hill Climbs 20 miles 900 ft (total)

Tuesday: Tall Gear Commute & Training Ride 10 miles 1000 ft 

Wednesday: Spinning Commute (Burn Tolerance)

Thursday: Taper - Regular Commute

Friday: Taper - Regular Commute

Saturday: Rest

Sunday: Rest

Today is Saturday and aside from missing my taper yesterday I am on track (dumb rain). I have tacked on 46 miles on top of the 90 I do in a normal week commuting. Of course I have to add that I had two crashes. Nothing serious, I just got new tiers and a new gear set up and am seeing what they can take, better to fail now than mid race.

I have also done Core exercises, and stretches to avoid killer back pain (I ride a Single Speed, Long Story I'll Tell you later; yes it's harder than a geared bike).  Next week I am going to run intervals on the way to work and focus on steady constant pedaling. Big thing is to keep the strength that I’ve gained from this quick drill and get some energy built back up.

I think out of all of this I am excited for two reasons. The First that I am going to finally beat that goal of getting into a race, and I have a feeling it is not going to be my last. Secondly, I am really looking at life a little bit different. Instead on just a chug along with the goal and evaluation too far down the road to cause self evaluation I am measuring myself in the here and now and seeing if I have what it takes and what I need to do to step it up. I cannot wait for the start of the race, I am giddy and itching for a fight. 

Too Many Thoughts, Too Many Things, Too Little me

Why is it that almost every time I get on here and write I am amazed that almost a month has gone by? Well just as an FYI and an update I got the traditional cold, BUT because I took more time off work ( December 24th to January 5th) I got a lot better. BUT I decided to ride into work at 36* closer to 28* with wind chill, and got worse and had to work from home for two days. I would have worked at the office, but was blamed for everyone else getting sick and banished. For the record you cannot catch a cold and present severe symptoms in less than 12 hrs.
Aside from that this first month has been Jam packed full of everything. I seriously cannot keep up with everything I want to do. I say want because these are not robotic "Must Perform" repetitive tasks. I have been a big believer in the fact that you knock out the dull repetitive stuff effectively and efficiently so that you can do other, more complex and challenging things. In fact My mom in a fit f near rage for taking 3 hours to clean a tiny guest bathroom was the one who taught me that lesson by screaming, "It takes longer to B*#ch about it that it does to get the job done!" Now if you know my mom you'll know that for me to get her to state something as adamant of that I was being a little Horror. But I digress
I have tasks at work, and tasks at home, none of which are expected or were asked to be completed. They are just things that I saw Needed to be done ("See a need Fill a Need" - a quote from Caleb and Isabelle's new favorite movie). That is the answer to where the time has gone. which is good, but I can be better.
The one thing that I have been neglecting since early November is my health. I have always struggled with weight, not a great struggle, but I cannot seem to loose those last 40 pounds. As of late the suppressed Samoan Stomach I inherited from 2 years on an island in the south pacific has unleashed it's ever hungry head, and I am steadily marching on to a former weight. I have weighed 240 give or take a few pounds at my biggest, and do not want to have to work from there again. This has been weighing (no pun intended) on my mind a lot. I never lost if after the mission, didn't loose it before getting married, didn't make it for my 25th, and ignored it for my 10 year High School reunion. My Main reasoning for that is that I do not have any good eating habits, I think like a good eater, and eat like glutton. That's got to change.
While taking the trash out I did have a bit of an epiphany. I don't have to stick to the 5 am work out routine, with the kids wanting to go to bed early (thanks to a new bunk Bed set) I have a good amount f time at night, and I want to do this. Of course this means giving up on a few TV Shows, My Nintendo DS Strategy Games, and Guitar Hero ( I'm rockin' on Hard :D ) Those are my escapes. If you pay close enough attention to guys we all have 2 or 3 of them. Something we can do that keeps our ever spinning wheels, spinning for fun. I just happen to like Non-mainstream sports (Universal Sports is the best Channel ever), Being pressed into a militarily difficult situation from which I can conspire and strong arm myself out of , and rocking to good music and pretending I can really play the guitar.
If you cannot tell from reading this, I am getting spread mentally thin, but it is a wall and a process I have faced many times before. I am very thankful I can recognize it. Yesterday in President Obama's Speech he quoted Paul in a letter to the Corinthians saying, "[...] It is time for us to put off childish things [...]" and that is when I knew I had hit a growth point again. That now is time for me to focus, and shed off something that is time consuming and that wastes my mental capacity. It is time for me to suffer my growing pains and become better. Break the cycle, accept and embrace the change that I make. *deep breath* Now to crack open the calendar and my beloved 'To Do' List, and make sure hold myself accountable to myself at a later date.


P.S. The Pictures are from the past month and are me having fun at work and with Caleb on a bike ride. I decided to let the Movember Goatee keep growing until last week when it was reduced in stages, all of which the Mrs. deemed "Eeew" and I am now ... Less of a mountain man :(

The Post Christmas Tradition

I am sit I was reflecting on our Post Christmas traditions. I can guarantee you that they are not what you may be thinking they are. Sure there were the near weekly Saturday parties where we surround ourselves with friends, and then Christmas Eve and Christmas day where we spend time with both parents and In-Laws on a predetermined Schedule. Those are the great traditions. But the ones I am referring to are far more menial and far less enjoyable.
These events leads to Our Family's first Less honored more hated tradition. The After Christmas Cleaning, slash Stuffing, slash eBaying (this last one is new this year and hopefully will make my wallet fat and happy). After having two Christmas' My Family have for some years now been able to fill the back of our Van with gifts from Grandparents, and we love every ounce of them, but that is about 60 square feet of space a year. My house does not get that much bigger every year so it is my job to find places to put it. If the thought of putting it in the closet came to mind, that is out of the equation. I have enough kid’s clothes to put a boy or girl in clothes from newborn to 3T. Six 30 gallon containers to be exact, and this year I had to get creative to get it all to fit in that. I have always admired the Spacebags, but heaven knows they are out of my budget (at least in the quantities I need). So I did the Poor man’s Version, 2mm thick plastic trash bags and a Dyson. All I can really say is Wow, I cut down the space they take up by at least half, but MAN are they heavy bins now.
Then there is the most loathed of Christmas traditions. For some reason far beyond my comprehension about this time of year Isabelle starts to get a little sniffle, which turns into a cough. Then Caleb gets a runny nose, followed by a fever, and a cough, and some time in between or after those events Jen gets it too, but gets the adult version. Last year I wasn't so lucky and I caught it as well, but this year I am adamant about not getting it, washing my hands, not sharing food, taking running dives from their Grenade like Sneezes. I am doing just about everything short of Lysol showers and drinking straight vinegar (Dave Touse taught me that trick). This is the winter illness tradition, and I despise it. I cannot honestly say if I hate it because it puts a crimp in cuddle time with the kids, or because it always happens when I take extended time off, thus removing my Wife's ability to function on a level where I can leave for a ride of extended length and time.
So here I sit on Sunday morning, instrumental hymns playing inspiring thoughts of eternal greatness, the thoughts of last year where we missed over a month of going to church haunting the present and a half cleaned… Oh let’s be honest… and a Destroyed house. So much for cleanliness is next to godliness, at least not for a few more days. I secretly hate my mom for teaching me how to clean and liking the result, I have to have things in order, and that can get frustrating. But I digress; I am sitting taking care of Kids, spouse, and house. I love them all, but boy do I need a really good Ride and a Vista to help bring this all back into perspective.

What Kind of Geek are You?

I found this a bit back but feel it TOTALLY appropriate. It is a cartoon from Scott Johnson @ MyExtraLife.com. It is a list of a few of the more popular Geeks. I am a combination of several. Click to see a bigger picture.

The Late Blooming Geek

For the Vast majority of my life I have accepted the Label of Dork, Nerd, and Geek. I wear them as a badge of honor; to be different should be celebrated. It has not been until a more recent time in my life that I have developed in to a more mature geek. What I mean by that is for the majority of my youth I was a Swimmer, a Surfer and a Scout. Sure I could be pegged for being a nerd just on the last one alone, but I didn't have the anti-social-nobody-gets-it-but-me obsession that seems to typify and categorize the atypical Geek. Some a Trek-ies, some are Star Wars nuts, Some Dwell in a land of Dwarves and Elves. For me though It wasn't until after I was married that I identified my obsession, in fact my wife introduced me to it.

To cut to the quick my anti-social-nobody-gets-it-but-me obsession is Mechwarrior (slash Battletech, slash Macross, slash Robotech). Some Great 3D renderings can be found HERE. While it is true that many of the previous titles mentioned began their rise to glory about 1984-85 it was not until I was Fifteen (1995) that it came into my world. My Dad for one reason or another (most likely to test out all 16MB of ram on his new computer) got a computer game Called Mechwarrior 2. The games premise was 30 foot tall walking tanks and a mission of destruction. Seeing that I was a 15 year old boy and very much into destruction the game was a perfect fit.

I played that game to death, Jade Falcon/Clan Wolf, Who cared they all blew up the same. To me it was a screen a joystick and hours of fun (and of course I used cheat codes; heat buildup sucks). I played that game and its first expansion Ghost Bear's Legacy till I had memorized every pixel of the map, and every preprogrammed guard rotation. Then I was blessed with Mechwarrior 3. All hail the intro Movie! (Those get me hook, line, and sinker every time) I was amazed at the improvement in graphics and customization ability of the individual mechs. I loved all those technical details, but alas about then I was 18 and also had a huge love of the ocean and my car which lead to Surfing more and playing video games less. Little did I know then I had found my obsession.

Skip five years into the future (All hail the time warp story mode) and I am a happily married man, and found to my great surprise that Mechwarrior 4: Vengence has been released! I bought it and firmly planted my backside into a familiar setting of Screen, Joystick, and Things to be destroyed. All Hail the Intro Movie! That one alone has spurned Battletech movie rumors for 5 years, But I digress. This time the images were smooth and the glorious 3D shapes had texture mapping, and the landscape looked much better than the bad math test in geometry it had been.

After a few weeks (possibly months) My lovely, very astute wife, noticed that I had been playing the game endlessly and after my complaints that I had trounced the game made mention that these were not just video games, but they were also a book series. "Silly wife, I don't read books." I am pretty sure that was my response verbatim. Boy was I in for a shock. I had for the longest time tossed the idea aside especially after looking at the cover art. How could this book be interesting if the covers are that pastel and totally 80's technology based. “Never judge a book by the cover” or so they say. Here I was, geek in geekland pointing out flaws and having reservations.

But, There was one book cover that caught my eye. Mechwarrior Dark Age: Ghost War. I was not a reader, but boy did that book change my mind. The descriptions of the smallest things blew me away. I love Michael Stackpole’s use of descriptive imagery, and the characters, Oh the characters! They were not the hastily gathered ill talented voices from the game. They felt like living, breathing, struggling people. (Sometimes I wish I could have gone back in time and handed myself the first book and really encouraged me to read it.) By the first bar brawl, I was hooked. I got that book about 6 months before my son was born and read as much as I could till it hurt. I finally finished it in the Labor and Delivery room about 2 hours before my son was born. That was the first time I had EVER read 250 plus pages.

My ticket to fully fledged geekdom via the Battletech universe had begun at the ripe age of 23. I had missed the train in High School, but I found the source of my inner geek. (More to come)