Day 149

Admission to the State Park is $5. BARGAIN!!!

Tomorrow is June 1. Whoa. Seem like just yesterday we were blowing steam all over the place as we spun 2x20s in the chilly Power Barn. I couldn't stand staying indoors all day so had to bust a move up to Hurricane Ridge after our morning 90 minute set in the HoM.

It was worth every penny.

Of course now I am shot, worthless, and incapable of anything more taxing than this blog entry.

Still.

It was a blast.

There were two primary reasons for doing it:

1) The sunshine.
2) To see if I still could.

It wasn't real fast, but it was a real confidence builder.

I am glad I did.

Did I mention tomorrow?

Day 148

What is your 'go-to' motivational technique?

I inquire because we all, at one time or another, get the lulls. That one day of the week, or one week of the month, or one month of the year, when all our mojo seems to be playing a wicked high-stakes game of hide-and-seek.

Where are you Mr Motivation and Ms Inspiration?

More than a kid's game, this is important adult challenge.

What do we do, how do we typically react, what are our tendencies and trends when faced with the business end of the sawed-off lethargic double-barrel-over and-under?

Hide? Take cover? Run like Hell? Learn to Duck?

First, let's make absolutely sure that it IS what we think it is. Make sure you are not hurt, injured or still in recovery mode from your last workout. Get a handle on your resting heart-rate. Are you hydrated? Well rested? Dealing with stress in a positive and non-toxic way?

Is it ALL IN YOUR HEAD? (If you answered yes)

Then try this:

Look at yourself in the mirror. Ask that image who you are and then WHO YOU WANT TO BE.

You should get a pretty clear answer. You want to be better than you are right now (and I don't mean better shaved and with clean teeth).

Your inner coach, training partner and biggest fan should be smiling at you with a wink-wink grin that suggests you do that thing that you need to do. That thing that must be done.

Go run. Ride hard. Swim like a bottle-nosed dolphin. Hoist a kettle bell. Yogasize it. Get outside yourself and help somebody else that is in this same situation.

There are plenty.

Share the mojo. It is infectious.

Day 147 in Hell

Today I am fighting my way out of hell.

That special place reserved for people who can't or won't create rudimentary file systems that have but a single function.

To remember user names and passwords.

As I say, this is a special hell the genesis of which is way bloodier than Cain & Able could possibly have imagined.

How did we get ourselves into this holy mess? How did I?

What will I do to get out? Kill?

JUST UNLOCK MY FUCKING COMPUTER.

Let me get back to work so I can earn an honest living. Please.

I can hear it now.

You want to earn an honest living, do you?

Yes, absolutely.

Enter your user name and password.

Day 146

I took the night off because my knee hurts.

Call me a wimp.

I will be back after a good night's rest.

Despite my good intentions and willingness to challenge, this morning's session depleted my ability to recover in time for a double.

Tendons, ligaments, cartilage and meniscus are all stressed under resistance. The harder you go, the longer to repair and recover. Knees ache with inflammation. If one is not careful, this can cost you an entire season.

We went hard this morning.

I am paying the price for that one-hour gold nugget.

Call me rich.

Who said that digression is the better part of valor?

Day 145, Run and See

Things happen fast. A blur of activity captured (or not) between a billion contrasting events. Do you think for one millisecond that you are the center of this relentless energy flow?

I was asked this very question once by my 'manager' who insisted that the world did NOT revolve around me.

Beg pardon?

It surely does.

My awareness of the cosmos starts, endures, grows, and is measured by exactly that. The speed and intensity of atoms whirling around my consciousness. What I choose to affix my attention to, and for how long.

The world DOES spin around me. MY world.

Yours does the same.

Where we meet and decide to combine efforts is where it gets interesting.

On a team. On a bus. In a dream. At the beach.

What (and who) we magnetize to us we then decide how to use for our best, highest, most noble intentions.

There lies the challenge.

Ever wonder why I am here?

Ever wonder why you are?

How about we?

Things happen fast. Run and see.

Day 144

Those of you having the courage (?) to visit more than one page of the RCVman blog, know that my list of favorite things is rather short.

I do love everything and everybody, but as Orwell might have said, some things are more favorite than others.

Upon completion of our afternoon 2x20 set we sat, sipping the rewards and plotting next Sunday's ride to bottle the brew that we mashed up last week. One of our regulars got in a quick story about me being in hog heaven, standing between a poster of the Dead and coverage of the Tour of California on the big screen. All this as I casually sipped the very beer we were creating in bulk.

So here is the photo.

Those of you having the additional courage to choose and follow ONE college football team will IMMEDIATELY see something wrong in the photo.

It is an OMG moment.

I have some friends that provide me endless grief due to my loyalty to the Huskies. Even the slightest mention of those kittens from the netherlands of our great state sometimes boils my blood. Yet here it is, in full view. A Rose Bowl pennant.

Oh, well, it is May. The Apple Cup (currently residing in Seattle) is seven months away.

Still. (Somewhere Cougar Brian is smiling)

Day 143

Officially homeless for the first time since 1977, I have been out shopping with the tiny remaining portion of the net profits from the sale of the Cabin in the Woods.

The plan is to go all-in white trash. The cheapest most affordable postage-stamp sized piece of dirt I can find. And then tow, drive or land an RV, trailer, camper, yurt or shipping container on it.

That will be my retreat. A quiet place of solitude where I can stoke the creative fires within. Ride, run, hike, paddle. Sit by the fire at night, chart the progress of celestial bodies and ponder the complexities and magic of this paradox. The Greeks might call it a tragedy just as surely as the Italians would call it dolce far niente. I am not sure what the French would say but I am confident they have a word for it.

In a perfect daydream this new base camp would operate four days a week with the remainder spent in town (or preferably on the road) doing that work thing.  Not so bad, really.

I also have a cool design in mind for a small retreat getaway if I can't make the here/there ratio work perfectly from the get-go. After all, Home Depot ain't giving their crappy inventory away like they used to. So this may take some time. However much I have remaining.

I checked out Sequim Friday and this morning I was up at Lake Cushman on the Hood Canal. There are some incredible places in each. There are also a few that, well, I will not be blogging about, the modern equivalent of writing home. There is a difference between poverty and frugality.

I also found a 30' Georgia Boy RV (with a 454 turbo and low miles) that would fit the bill as mobile unit for the interim. Going to take another look later today and gauge the owners interest and motivation. (loose translation: Here is what I will offer).

Lastly today, a gray drizzly-do Sunday in the Puget Sound, is this little gem that I finally polished enough for display (had to post something about training):

If you combine mind and body in training long enough, you will find your spirit.

You may quote my on that one.

Please.

Day 142

Commercial exploitation is reaching new lows. Are you still watching TV?

Day 141 Magilla

I am currently working on a promo, what we used to call guerrilla marketing in the old days, that does the following:

1) Gives away free stuff.

2) Promotes, advertises and markets a great product (the free stuff).

3) Puts well-earned cabbage in my Levis.

Our target demographic, triathletes at events, gets to sample a new and improved nutritional product as a result of my placing a small package in their hands. There is a card attached. A 'use special code for discounts' card. I then tag my rental car with product logo instantly becoming a vehicle cleverly designed for product placement. Like on the bike course race day in front of every participating athlete, their families and friends. I also get to shoot video and cut commercials to build social media buzz.

Once the athletes (or their families and friends) go to the product site and use the magic code to enter credit card info....well, you know what happens.

1a) Consumers get the goods. Get healthier, recover faster, and race harder.

2a)The client gets the exposure and bottom line positive trending.

3a) And I get paid for being a gorilla.

Day 140

OK, OK, I spent the day (number 140) doing (kinda) important stuff. Went up to Sequim to look at a piece of dirt-cheap property. When I got there (exactly 53 miles later) didn't take long to see why it was so "affordable". Picture in you mind a deserted meth lab. I was outta there so fast the two pitbulls next door couldn't even get off a bark. After the return home we killed a 2x20 set in the PB. After that I tried to get on-line in the beautiful home in which I am house sitting and failed miserably to hack past the security firewall. After that (and two delicious Elysians that the boss lady insisted I consume) and realizing that I had left the work I really wanted to finish, Father's Day by Buzz Bissinger, at my brothers, I raided the library and picked some juicy Raymond Carver for the nightcap. Mr, Carver spent most of his writing life another 36 miles North of Sequim in Port Angeles. I slept on the couch feeling unworthy of the huge, cushy and extravagant bed that the owner's use. After that I had a weird dream. That was yesterday, Day 140.After that will come Day 141. I trust.

Day 139

In my self assessment it helps to use the word vigilant. As I rate the progress (or the plan) of returning to racing. It has been a long sixteen months. A long, dark, frustrating and sometimes devastating sixteen months. I like the new docs at UW Medicine. I trust that they will decode the data from last week's stress test and get closer to a diagnosis. Should they not…..I have my own plan.

It is this: Back to the track and more of the same. Having executed my third 5K since a five month physically unable to preform hiatus, monitoring the effects closely and grading the results as objectively as I can, the news is good, trending upwards.

I still get blindsided by occasional cardio sucker punches, but none with the lights-out  ferociousness that were the norm back in winter's bleakness.

So I push the envelope. Two a days. This morning we reeled off our third Wednesday of cycling Super Eights, monstrous all-out efforts of thirty seconds on and ninety off. Times eight. Tonight we do a 5 mile indoor spin and a hilly one mile run, three times. Someone with talent might call this a brick of a difference color. I simply call it training. It will hurt. By all measure I should be gassed at completion.

Gassed AND giddy.

Because I can do it. Because it is the only way I know, the only antidote. THE cure.

Could it be a colossal error of commission? Absolutely.

Will I take that chance? Definitely.

Should I trust the process and embrace the challenge? Unquestionably.

How should I describe this journey? Vigilant?

Sure, why not?

Day 138, GO~DO

There circulates an idea that being stupid is normal.

I agree. We humans are prone to error. I should know, leading the league in them for 52 consecutive years (1995 was a rarity filled with focus, mediation, martial arts, teaching, training and expanding awareness), but a trip to Italy brought all that to a grinding halt.

But we are back at our rightful place atop the current standings. You reading this is a perfect example, after all, how many smart people would continue blogging for 137 days without a single comment?

One has to wonder about serviceable eyesight when one cannot read THAT writing on the wall. Stupid? Sure. Of value? Absolutely.

So it's not-so-stupid?

It's not stupid at all - Provided I find value and reward through its discipline. It is like meditation.

Just sitting and counting breaths? What a waste of time.

Hardly.

I laughed the other day when I announced to a small gathering of friends that it is most liberating to not have to worry about pleasing an audience. I do this as part journal, part record, part cathartic creative writing and part discipline. I derive no revenue. I sell no gadgets. I ask for nothing.

I write (blog) confess, speculate, opine, comment and create. Every day. In between I train twice a day (when my atrial fibrillation allows), eat good, shoot, edit and produce cycling video and read as much as I can.

Agreed: Boring, mundane and stupid. I make a lot of mistakes as noted earlier. Maybe I should just find a nice girl, get married and start a family. RIGHT.

I think the secret is in recognizing the mistakes that matter and correcting them, or not repeating them, and then moving to bigger and better mistakes.

IMHO there is nothing stupid about that.

It might be genius.

Go ~ Do

Day 137

Submitted for your approval. The two labels for the beer that we made yesterday.  In honor of Spike and Ruby, our security staff dynamic duo at the PB. Got to hone my graphic design chops a touch in the process, always a fun process (like everything else).

Of course I wish I was better. Of course I wish I was faster.

Sound familiar?

We get better (faster, stronger, more capable, more confident) the more we do. It is like training, just like training. You practice to get better.

Do what challenges you. Often.

Ride, make beer, design labels, bottle, ride, repeat.

Submitted for your approval.

Day 136, wort and all

Really fun days come few and far between I think this is because we don't try hard enough to create them. We tried hard today. There were no excuses, no back-doors, no escape.

You showed up, saddled up and rode. Or not.

We rode 25 some miles, I couldn't get my computer to re-set so I apologize for the inaccuracy, brewed up two batches of beer, and rode home again.

So much fun.

Lasting memories and the thrill of adventure.

We will do it again in two weeks to bottle our blends.

As I stirred the bubbling wort, I mentioned to the stirrer opposite me, that this beer will taste particularly good because we made it.

We made it.

Fun days and made of this.

Day 135

I am going to draw the curtains, debrief and unwind with another critical viewing of 3:10 to Yuma. I consider this a flawless work. It is good. It you haven't seen it a yet, spend whatever your entertainment budget allows and do so.

I am fried from this mornings 90 minute session and the set up of my new stand-up editing desk. I hope I ill get used to it because right now it kinda hurts.

We have a ride n brew session planned for tomorrow, here is to hoping the rains remain in Spain for one more day.

Cheers.

Day 134 juice

From this morning's mail bag:

It is competitive juice and a wonderful thing. It keeps us moving in the right direction, us vigilantly seeking improvement. It can be harnessed and used upon demand. That may be one of the most important drills we do, calming the mind in order to execute demanding tasks. We call it Grace Under Fire. You are good at it. The secret is to relax into your confidence and not allow external distractions to block your view of the goal. You, and me, were less than our best last night. I will echo your commentary about gladness. Regardless of HOW we did, we DID!! And the lesson from that we will take into next week with a new and exciting opportunity to grow. One last cliche, I don't care how others do as long as I know that I have done my best. Executing my absolute best, that grace under fire, is the goal, whatever happens, then happens, first or last, podium or dumpster, I don't care. I left what I had on the field of battle. And I can live with that (until our nest training session).

Day 133

A person very close to me spends the majority of is time in a haze of doubt. He cannot decide whether to buy or sell, continue on or drop out, spend more or save more, stop the bleeding or let it flow.

Worse, he listens to his inner guide and responds outwardly that he feels overwhelmed, stressed, paralyzed and lost.

He not only listens, that voice has become his image, the inner taking control and dictating his every move, word and deed.

He is a mess.

There is no joy in Mudville, and Mighty Casey is still standing in the on-deck circle. Smiles are rare and laughter all but forgotten.

Why do we allow this 'paralysis of analysis' such power? How long must we sit atop the fence waiting for someone to push us to one side or the other? Is it fear of failure? Is it over-caution? Is it stage fright, writers block or a lull in motivation?

What?

I am firmly entrenched in the camp where our scout leader suggests, on a daily basis, that we be prepared - and then do what pushes our souls higher. Do that thing that scares you. Climb the mountain, dive in, JUMP. Run like the wind, ride as if your life depends upon it and never, ever, second-guess your decisions. No looking back. THAT is not the direction we head.

Ever.

You cannot fail. Learning from our mistakes is growth, experience. That is how we build character, amass inspirational stories and shape the persona of our spirit. The very moment you decide to act, the cosmos (in its varying forms and faces) moves in to assist. Sometimes it is so powerful you can almost hear it whisper, 'Got your back dude'.

So be bold. Have faith. Man up and be sensitive to the goal, which has nothing to do with fame or fortune. It is about being happy and enjoying the ride. As wild as it gets sometimes. Don't close your eyes on the roller-coaster. You might miss the ride of your life.

Diet and exercise is like that too. Choose one, the one that serves you best, and with all your energy go get it. In sports we call this fueling and training.

Put your bike in the truck and go somewhere you can roast a red pepper at camp.

Or think about it until next summer.

Day 132

Test and train as if they were chocolates.

I am "officially" back to running. Thank the Lord. My initial jaunt on the new home course hurt very much. Any change in elevation sent immediate ripples of panic to my legs and lungs. Like slugging out the last few clicks of of Ironman, but this was a lowly 5K. OMG, the loss of power. Remember when we used to pull off 12% hill repeats? Run trails with gazelle-like acumen?

Gone.

For now.

We know the way back. Its protocol, requiring patience and persistence, calls for one step at a time.

Makes no difference how far or how fast. What matters is that it gets done with regularity. As in every other day. Even yesterday's repeat ( I added stairs, ramp and floating dock to the turnaround) timed out just a few seconds slower than the first. Signs of progress in only two trips! Yes!

I even slept last night, something that has eluded me post-session since the onset of this mysterious whatever it is cardio-malady of now almost 16 months and counting.

The head scratching comes from the fact that cycling has no effect on sleep, but when I run, whoa baby, the heart tremors and irregularities shake me out of REM like a Waring blender filled with marbles. Not fun and kinda scary. You wonder why I curtailed running? It has been five months. No wonder my power escaped like a thief in the night.

But I am back, immensely motivated by these first two puny runs. We can build from here. Where we stop nobody knows.

You got my back Forrest?

Day 131

A friend just posted an article entitled, "Twelve Things we could Learn from Hawaiians."

My knee-jerk reaction being, of course, have Hawaiian DNA.

Otherwise, we howlie mainlanders, intensely jealous and in constant scheme-mode to make the move once and for all, could, indeed, take a lesson or two from the locals in application to our daily, mundane, urbane race with the rats.

The twelve were all (for once) outstanding, each carrying the obligatory Maui-wowie, way better than iPhone pic.

Once especially caught my eye.

4) Do what you love (picture of surfer chick) daily.

As I sit (that is being addressed today as well) vigilant in my routine to write something every day, the profundity of number four on the list strikes me like a falling coconut.

Duh.

What is it so hard then? Because of the (my) ultra judgmental tendencies of our relentlessly sheepish society? Because of political pressure? Because our (my) puritanical proclivities proclaim work to be the sole meaning of life? Because the capitalists have won and now need to dominate? Because the timid and frightened are still wary of anybody who smiles on cloudy days? Because religion dogma demands that thou shalt not indulge in what feels good?

These, perhaps, and many more, well;

Fuck them and fuck that.

Do what you love. Every day.

Need some time to segue? Alright, fair enough.

I will add a sub category.

4) Do what you love daily.

4.a) Do what you must everyday after (or before) doing what you love.

That way you get the best of both worlds. The Island way and the Mainland way.

You get to ride your bike, train, eat good, smile, appreciate the fact that geography has nothing to do with it, and be a responsible contributor to your community.

Aloha brah.

Day 130

Let me try again. Please.

Here is the set up, a backstory of sorts.

We know from experience, that change is hard. We get comfortable and cozy with routine. Get up, make coffee, commute, work, commute, play, sleep.

Come the inevitable ravages of time we find ourselves one fine day wondering why the 'same old - same old'  is no longer producing the same old results. A + B now equals D or E or F.

The mirror that day reveals gray, flab, clammy and drab. Range of motion is limited with speed, power, balance and endurance elements we now discuss in the past tense.

We need change and we need it STAT.

We need to change our habits. Transform them into a series of focused efforts to provide the desired results. Like good health, fitness, self confidence and leadership.

Leadership because people are watching. Kids. Peers, parents. Yours. Ours. These look to us for guidance and inspiration. They say "Show me how to do it", NOT, "Tell me how." They seemingly shout , "Climb the hill and we will follow."

You have been called to the carpet. You are now accountable to you. And me. And us.

We are all in this complex and dynamic life together.

And life is change. Ask the dawn. Ask the snow pack. Ask the cheetah.

If you are doing it now, change something. Your diet, your fuel, your ratio.

If you are NOT doing it now please start.

PLEASE.

I am begging you. Start today. Right fucking now.

There, that was better.

Day 129, BACK!

Good day. Good weekend. Lot's done. I made my un-spectacular, but vitally important return to running today. Did a 5K in a pathetic 29:45. It may have been the most important run since I decided to get out of bed after a rehab stint that I earned after wrapping a VW around a telephone pole and a Chevy truck back in 1981.

We have to start somewhere. Today I started. And I feel great. After the run I was weeding around the firepit thinking about how important today is. I HAD to run today. Because now I can say I should have started yesterday BUT the monkey is off my back, you know the one that says "I'll start tomorrow" for a couple of weeks (months or years). Today was the day and now we are off.

I have the new course. I know my first time. I can chart my progress and keep the streak alive until I am back slugging out the last 5K of a marathon. That marathon, of course, comes after 112 miles on the bike. And a 2.4 mile swim.

Then I will rest.

But not today.

Pic left from yesterday at the dump. We are such snobs here that Monet's are found in the dumpster. Pic right from today shopping for supplies and gear. My requisite for a tool box to fit behind the Ranger seat is tested. And answered. You'll do. Nicely.

Day 128

I must have failed. There were snickers in the back row - and not the kind that you ram near bonking. Oh well, I tried.

Tried again to bring wisdom from another genera to the paradigm of testing and training indoors, on a bike.

I was reminded (because it was my tenth read) of the metaphor that exists between nearly every high art and what we do in the saddle. The tenth read was of Stanley Fish's seminal work, "How to Write a Sentence." Seriously, I have read it ten times.

So I tried to parlay some of his expertise into our killer 90 minute session this morning.

I tried the short imperative clause:

Move your feet.
Breathe and relax.
Get it done.

I tried to set the challenge tone by reminding the assembled spinners that we try relentlessly to perform a certain skill at a very high level.

Then, and this is where I missed, I mentioned the 'best sentence ever' website and how I had submitted an entry.

Pause.

Hillclimb.

Rolling Stones.

I told them mine:

"He never saw it coming."

Snickers.



Photo used completely without permission of Mars, Inc. who's website informs me that Snickers, nee Marathon Bar, was introduced to the UK in 1930.

Day 127

I was fearful that it was a relapse. All the symptoms were back, mashing up the day like an orchestra struggling to get to tune. A cacophony of malaise. Such imbalance I haven't felt for almost two months. We were cruising along, Wednesday's double session, difficult but done. We even added a new pair of Asics to the mix, finding the neutral trainers at Zappos.com for $60 and free shipping. Here we go I boldly proclaimed. The road back.

Little did I know that THAT road would wind, snake, climb and detour through several western states and demand an ultra-like state of zen patience. One day at a time rendered to one step at a time.

The postural hypotension was the thunder to the chest pressure, dizziness and GI distress of the lightning like speed with which it all came. I recognized the signs. Red lights flashed, sirens wailed. Here we go again, with dramatic and vulgar expletive as verbal accompaniment.

I took two naps, assessing the damage. Haven taken myself off the three meds (Omeprazole, warfarin and some watered-down generic proxy for zoloft), I wondered if this was withdrawal. Trying my best to self medicate with probiotics, organics and Emergen-C, by 2000 I was ready for a night in the sack, praying that dreams would be kind to me.

And this morning as I sit quietly in eager anticipation of a sunny day (so far-so good) I feel much better. Maybe even over the hump.

It is a new day and I am ready to charge.

Wish me luck. As I wish for you.

Day 126

I get credit for these. Pithy, yet poetic. And somewhat pragmatic.

Less is more.
Until more is less.
Then more is more, and less is less.
More-less.

Reviewed and revisited:

Made easy hard.
Until hard is easy.
Then make hard harder.
Till harder is easier.
Easy to be hard?
Hardly.

As an entree or on the side, champions savor every ride.

Day 125 at the finish

One of those days. Know the term? Of course you do, cause if you're reading this, you're human and we are all subject, as such, to swings in mood, focus, awareness and physicality. We all, to quote old Frankie Blue Eyes, sometimes are Flying high in April and shot down in May.

We see this played out on a daily basis in our indoor training and testing. There are days we are (ecstatically) on fire. And those days we are calling 911 to get help in putting it out.

What we do, how we respond to this swing is what separates the contenders from the pretenders. If one tosses in the towel at the initial symptoms of the day being 'one of those', one loses a golden opportunity to grow as a result of developing the skill set, featuring perhaps the grand-daddy of them all, the skill to endure. To survive. To somehow, someway transform the darkness to light. Or maybe simply deal with the darkness, stay in the game, persevere, until the dawn.

We all know what the darkest hour precedes.

Just get there. This darkness will pass. It is fact. The sun, quoting yet another wordsmith, will shine in your backyard someday.

You need to be there to see it. And pulling the covers over your eyes is more than a metaphorical escape.

Stay with it. Endure. Ride it out. Witness how you excel when times are most demanding. Complete the mission.

One of these days one of those days will define you.

Hero up. Get to the finish.

Day 124, more

We test.

We train.

We measure.

We endure.

We go hard.

We compete.

We recover.

We repeat.

Sometimes the results are dramatic.

Sometimes not.

We come back for more.

Day 123

Fearlessly he rallied to another level. He had to trust that this time the trend would continue and not crash downward off the chart like a boulder in free fall. He had been here before. He remembered the frustration, frustration bordering on anger. It wasn't two steps up and one back, for fifteen months now it was one step forward and two in reverse.

And he was tired of that.

Sick and tired.

He longed for progress. Positive trending. Something to build upon. Momentum.

He was also weary of looking at his gut in the mirror. Fifteen months of only four hours a week of training, down over 200% from his "norm", had allowed gravity and the aging process to add a layer of stored fat where once was none. Secretly he wanted to be as skinny as Matt Reed. Fast AND thin. Strong and wiry. Like a steel spoke with a power-to-weight ratio above 5.

He was tired of that, too. He could almost hear the gurgle saying, "You do nothing, you get something. Here."

So today might have been the day. Day One. Some four hours after the morning spin session and he needed no nap. He was recovering well after protein and some leftover french toast from Junior's breakfast. He was eagerly anticipating the evening's 2x20 session.

THAT would be proof positive that he was back.

At least for today.

And that, he considered, was the important one.

Day 122

Why not how
Why, not How.
Why NOT how?

Day 121 by George

Another long day. In a series of long days. My brain must be running a little hot and sludgy as I made a costly mistake sometime over the last few days.

I lost the only key to my truck.

The gal at the locksmith shop that cut the initial key when I traded for the Ranger said I would be out 5-6 large for another, assuming I could get a copy of title and a fax of my drivers license to her in Port Orchard by 5pm.

Right.

So I am out of wheels till Monday, when the emergency weekend fees are no longer applicable and I, as registered owner, can conduct legitimate business in a less than stressful code red situation.

I found about the missing key this morning at 0400 as I was doing last minute prep for today's shoot. The room got turned upside down as did the little Ford rental car. No luck. After the race I even backtracked to the last three places I visited, as well as the Days Inn in Vegas where, as you recall, I stayed Wednesday night after all the delays. No luck anywhere.

So I am paying, will pay, for being a dummy. I lost my key. My serious and stupid bad. How did that little fucker pop out of my pocket?

Small price, minor inconvenience. I was somewhat proud of myself for keeping MIB (Mind in Boat) for the 56 miles I sat behind Larry on his beautiful, if a touch bumpy, Harley. Every time I would think abut what a complete dolt I am, something brought me back to the task at hand. Focus, remember!

So I stopped in the Valley of Fire on the way home to remind my soul of Hayduke. Fox RAC seemed a bit more professional, but I will never return there. Wow, did I say NEVER?????

As I now sit in Vegas waiting for the redeye home, I wonder where my key is at this very moment. And what it is thinking.

Day 120 Joe

He told Joe to be careful not to miss his chance. He reminded him that he'd already learned how to row past pain, past exhaustion, past the voice that told him it couldn't be done. That meant he had an opportunity to do things most men would never have the chance to do. And he concluded with a remark that Joe would never forget. "Joe, when you really start trusting those other boys, you will feel a power at work within you that is far beyond anything you've ever imagined. Sometimes, you will feel as if you have rowed right off the planet and are rowing among the stars."

Page 235, Boys in the Boat by David James Brown.

God, I wish I was racing tomorrow.

Day 119

Alternating the sublime with the insane sums it up. From A to Zion.

In Seattle, where TSA confiscated my toothpaste a little more than a week ago, yesterday they rushed me through with a "random" pre-screen, where I didn't even have to remove my shoes, let alone show how I learned my lesson by packing the Crest mini tube. Took about ten seconds and I was en-route to N11. Still carrying my telescoping camera pod that stuck out of my back pack like an arrow in quiver, now the game was to carry on BOTH my back-pack and camera bag.

Check and check.

All that, I chuckled settling in next to a stunning young blond, was too easy.

I was right.

A computer issue at LAX grounded all flights in Los Angeles airspace, which includes Vegas, so we sat and chatted (the stunning young blond and I) for almost an hour before we were taxied back to the gate. We un-boarded, sat for ten minutes and repeated the loading drill.

All was good (between Angie ad I) until the turbulence into McCarren. Which was nothing compared to the bumpy treatment at FOX Rent a Car. OMG. What a fiasco.

I saw grown women, two in particular, blow fuses. There were three lines, all long and all painful. One to get a car. Another to get the keys to the car and a third to get the car out of the lot. The internal traffic jam was where the ladies melted down. I was laughing so hard my jaws hurt, this after realizing that all my frustrations directed at the two FOX employees, wasn't going to help matters any.

Note to self: Get a shuttle downtown next trip and walk in one of the Enterprise locations off site. OMG. The two hour drive to St. George was postponed until this morning after a night in Vegas at a dive a care not to describe, suffice it to say, Angie was at Bellagio.

Just back from scouting the STG course (photo is at the start of Snow Canyon) already well marked and about 50% of the old IM course. I plan on filming a test run tomorrow at first light, and then the real deal Saturday morning.

Out from Zion. Get some rest.