Prep Work For The 4HB "5K to 50K" 12 Week Program

My athletic experience approaching the 4HB  "5K to 50K" 12 Week Program came from training as a triathlete for the past three years and recently completely the Augusta 70.3 Ironman. My fitness levels were to a point where an hour swimming or two hours running or three hours on the bike were common place. My previous regiments also included strength training and advanced yoga practice. And all my metabolic conditions (for my age and background) were considered excellent by my personal physician who had seen me go from 220lbs down to as low as 175lbs, the week before Augusta.

Overall my goal with the 12 Week Program was to improve the speed and quality of my running. But immediately, from the first sentence, the program was trouble. As mentioned previously, it is written in a cryptic shorthand, with no readily available translation. Before making a serious commitment to the program, Your Humble Narrator had to first figure out it was based on Crossfit workouts, and then find a Crossfit instructor to break it down into digestible pieces. Easier said than done. 

Perhaps some aggressive Googling could have helped me make sense of it, but the easy road is rarely fun. Instead, after checking out three different gyms, never hearing back from the first (after MULTIPLE attempts,) getting nothing but the cold shoulder from a visit, an email, voicemail, & texts to the second gym, the third gym (CrossFit Portside!) turned out to be an excellent fit with my schedule and daily commute. 

Sara Carter, owner and instructor, looked over the plan with me. Without any hesitation, she politely, yet firmly let me know that it would be COMPLETELY INSANE for me to try to do this one my own. Ironman or not! Sara smiled and suggested the very first couple of days would "crush me." And if power lifting wasn't already on my list of skills, the result would be painful, long lasting damage. She suggested at least one month, if not more, of getting a good grip on the fundamentals of Crossfit, finding my existing limits, then adapting the program to more reasonable exercises while still using the majority of the plan.

Which is what has been happening for the past two and a half months: lifting and sweating and all but puking multiple times a week at Crossfit Portside. After working closely with Sara, it only strengthened my belief in her opinions of the 4HB program and helped me see that it was actually very advanced and very difficult. So while Tim Ferriss might suggest "anyone can do it," it has taken me about 10 weeks of Crossfit (on top of 3 years of triathlons) to get to the point where the program is doable.

And in 12 weeks, we shall all know see the results of this challenge.

Why The 4HB 12 Week Program Is Mostly Impossible

It is important for folks to know why Tim Ferriss' "5K to 50K" training program is mostly impossible for the average reader.Or virtually any reader.

First, the program is (by my estimate) about 60% Crossfit, 30% running drills, and 10% long runs. Anyone who is not familiar with Crossfit will not even be able to decipher the program, let alone attempt it. Here is an example of one workout: "Tabata row 20:10 x 8," which translates into "Hop on a rowing machine, row full speed for 20 seconds, then row easy for 10 seconds, and repeat 8 times." Another example: "Box Back Squat: 10 x 2 on min w/ 80% 1RM" which means, "Do 10 sets of 2 reps on Back Squats, hitting a box, using 80% of your 1 Rep Max weight." And the program is 12 pages of Crossfit shorthand which is never directly explained.

Second, the program assumes you have access to not only a serious gym which includes squat racks, rowing machines, chin-up frames, jump ropes, boxes, and plenty of weights, but also a track or some place you can perform sprint drills. You are also expected to have fairly excellent working knowledge on a multitude of complex power lifting moves, which few people understand, let alone have perfected. Some examples include: good mornings, dead lifts, front squats, back squats, power cleans, presses, push presses, and kettle bell swings. If you have never done these exercises, they are not likely to come naturally. And practicing bad form with them is likely to do more harm than good. Seriously. Like, pulling or tearing muscles. Damaging your spine. These are not simple exercises, but Tim thinks you should be able to hop up and start cranking them out.

Third, the program assumes you are in PHENOMENAL condition already. It expects you to be able to do 150 double-unders on the jump rope (where the rope passes under you twice with each jump) on Day One. The program expects you to do 45 kipping pull-ups on Day Two. It expects you to do three dozen Thrusters with 115lbs over your head by the end of Week One. And that is where you START. Not the final week, but the very first week of the program.

After discussions with a dozen very athletic friends, exactly NONE of them can do one double-under with a jump rope, let alone the 150 suggested on Day One. Exactly NONE of them can do more than half a dozen pull-ups, let alone the 45 suggested on Day Two. Exactly ONE of them knew what a kipping pull-up was. And exactly NONE of them knew what a Thruster was or would be likely to do three dozen of them. And these are very athletic folks that compete as hard as they train and have years (if not decades) of experience each. But the 4HB program suggests (and Tim himself has said in interviews) that "anyone" can do it, becoming "effortlessly superhuman."

In short, NO ONE other than a very avid Crossfit enthusiast is going to have the vocabulary, skills, or strength to even attempt Tim Ferriss' program.

To think that the typical reader can go from doing little, if any exercise, to completing each of the workouts for twelve weeks is the height of egotistic aloofness and shows a complete detachment from anything even remotely resembling reality.

And yet, Your Humble Narrator is going to attempt it...

Trying Tim Ferriss' 5K to 50K Training Program

One of my sillier ideas: attempt Tim Ferris' program that (he claims) will get you ready to run 50K in 12 weeks. And Tim's assuring his readers that anyone can do it. Anyone can go from zero, to an ultrathon in about three months.

First, let me say: NO WAY! Absolutely no way. Don't believe it at all.

Second: Ferriss himself has not completed an ultrathon and does not know from experience if it will work or not. He has promised to post here when he does complete such an event. As of 01/20/14, he has not updated the site. Try it for yourself. You'll find, "Coming soon."

Third: Aside from lots of articles referencing Tim's program, there appears to be very few (if any) articles from people who have successfully completed the training and done an ultrathon. At least nothing of note appears on the first couple of Google pages of my searches.

Fourth: There is no ultrathon in my future. But there is a 70.3 Ironman. This may be wrong but it seems to me that if the training can prepare a person for a 50K run, it should also prepare me for a 21K (half marathon) at the end of a 70.3 event.

So in order to prove it, Your Humble Narrator is going to DO THE PROGRAM, proving updates along the way, and conclude at The Gulf Coast Triathlon in early May.

More to come. Much more!

Wanna Be Healthier?

Here's a very simple secret to keep in mind if you wanna be healthier: EAT REAL FOOD!

Here's my weekly grocery haul, almost directly from a farm in Pearl River County to my kitchen with a brief stop at the Biloxi Farmer's Market. A half gallon of whole white milk, a gallon of whole chocolate milk, an 8oz of butter, 12 or so ounces of tomato basil cheddar, and a pound of ground beef. All of which comes from grass-fed, local cattle. None of which are given hormones or steroids.

Is the Farmer's Market more expensive than Walmart? Having never shopped for such food there, your guess is as good as mine. Though Cindy would likely say everything is a dollar less if you're willing to donate your paycheck to the Walton family. However, Your Humble Narrator would gladly point out that money spent at the Farmer's Market stays in the community. And any report you're likely to dig up on the subject will demonstrate that the nutritional content of grass-fed meat and dairy products is exponentially higher than hyper-industrialized products.

Shopping at the Farmer's Market is a win-win-win situation. Better nutrition. Superior taste & quality. And the money goes to your local farmers. Oh yeah, and no waiting in line at Walmart! Bonus!

Endless Tech

There's an unending stream of technology empowering and consuming my semi-simple life. It is so pervasive it only gets noticed when it is broken or absent. Take work. Of course being a Super Nerd requires immersion in such things, but my day goes from crawling around inside a robotic tape library to spinning up cloned virtual servers and adding them to the Citrix Xenapp farm without any user downtime to proving to vendors that they don't know the difference between a firewall, a switch, and a packet shaper.

Later, once the office is left behind, technology is at the heart of my fitness. From the elaborate indoor training cycles to the music the instructor users to the tracking software that records every sweaty mile under my aching feet.

Shift to the homestead. Or carousing time. And once again little happens that doesn't have some digital element. My triathlon team operates almost exclusively on Facebook. My email archive dates back nearly a decade (July of 2004) and it is constantly available on everything around me (phone, tablet, PC.) Messages fly constantly: Google Talk, FB Messenger, corporate email, SMS, and more. Reminders. To Dos. My calendar. My alarms.

Your Humble Narrator sometimes prays for an EMP to bring it all to a screeching halt. And then the fun would begin.

Icy Pints - Gulfport

Inaugural run of the Icy Pints Athletic team from its new Gulfport chapter at Irish Coast Pub. Got there early. Brought running shorts AND pants, in case of weather. Brought a big ol' jug of water to hydrate. Pre-fueled the rocket with some Xyience. Then discovered a complete lack of running shoes. Which promptly cranked my usually repressed levels of anger from 2 to 11. And the profanity began...

Eventually, the rage was re-repressed by copious amounts of cider and pleasant company. Turned out to be a pleasant night. Despite my lack of training or sweating or cardiovascular conditioning.

Your Humble Narrator will like return for additional Icy visits. It's the usual Tuesday run with the usual Tuesday people on the usual Tuesday route outside the usual Tuesday pub. Just new management. Same ol sweat. And same ol' Jon still attempting to be an athlete.

So, welcome Icy Pint. Gulfport is glad to have you!

Curse you, lungs!

Respiration is greatly over-rated!

On my 10th day of issues. Primarily isolated to the lungs. Left upper lobe, methinks. Physically strong. Physically energetic. But cannot run the engine in the red for very long until breathing becomes an issue. Mostly a matter of taking things VERY slow. Not getting winded. But, you know, THAT SUCKS! If it weren't for the whole lack of oxygen thing going on, the engine would be firing on all cylinders. Curse you, lungs!

Swam yesterday. Lifted today. Bit of a power test. Back squat maxed out around 205lbs. Push press maxed out around 95lbs. And deadlift maxed out around 245lbs. May have been able to do a few pounds more on each, but not many. Not without risking injury. And injury ain't cool at this age.

Still getting stronger. Still developing better form. Cleaner technique. But still much room for improvement.

Hoping to finalize on the 12 week training program in the next day or two, then start on the 20th. Follow the 12 week general program with a 6 - 8 week focused Ironman program. And see what happens from there...

Plans

The Gulf Coast Triathlon looms on a distant horizon. Another 70.3 event. Team members converging en masse. My brain going sideways with thoughts on training. Wanna focus on the run. Wanna make sure to train several open Gulf swims. Don't want to over-train. (Easy to do.) Don't want to under-train. (Easier to do!) Thinking about incorporating Crossfit. Thinking about buying a new watch. (Actually my first watch!) Thinking about new goggles.

Meanwhile, on a different frequency, Traditions approaches. With a multitude of folks asking me for guidance, support, help, suggestions, and/or material aid. Problem is, Traditions is a sprint, and it is two weeks before Gulf Coast. So any training spent with folks prep'ing them for Traditions is going to be significantly less than the training plan for Gulf Coast. The tri team is planning to offer another round of The Road To Traditions. And Your Humble Narrator would like to help. But there are so many thoughts and machinations bouncing through his head, he's not able to think straight, let alone train straight.

But the plan will be finalized this week. Gotta get the calendar fixed and finalized. One way or another. 

More on that, as it develops. 

Perspectives

Constantly spinning between perspectives as people move through my life. Each in their own gyre. Accelerating or slowing, To their own internal soundtrack. 

A vendor took us to lunch yesterday. Six months ago she was hit, and very nearly killed, by a car while casually bicycling through her neighborhood. Barely remembers the two weeks after that. Especially the time in the ICU. Has a list of multiple surgeries to schedule, when possible, in her immediate future. Including partial facial reconstruction. And she walks only thanks to the support of crutches. On the other hand, she doesn't want to talk about all her woes, she wants to hear my plans for the coming triathlon season. While my internal dialog is conflicted about mentioning my complete hatred of running because she isn't able to get around without any mechanical support. Just walking upright, unassisted, is her next milestone. But Your Humble Narrator laments not being ready for the Rock N Roll Marathon in New Orleans in a couple of weeks. 

A friend further north lives paycheck to paycheck. In a hotel. For a year. With two kids. Subsisting on Ramen & Bunny Bread. While an absentee-spouse spends every available penny on Oxy. Mid-life. Nearly rock bottom. No Christmas. No holidays. Too scared of the other hotel guests to let the kids do anything other than play a dying X-box or watch TV behind constantly locked doors. But it's a hassle that my weekends are entirely booked through May and the biggest challenge ahead is deciding which condo to rent at the next big race. 

Another friend rebuilding a personal life, again. Had previously tried to get into triathlons. One successful race. Then the world went sideways.Unexpected ailment after ailment. Some minor. Some not. Some still not resolved. Compounded by a mis-represented inter-personal relationship that took a lot of time and effort to go nowhere. How do you pour all your heart and energy and hope into somebody, just to turn around and be forced to create a peaceful way to watch it all get flushed into oblivion? Starting all that over. Maybe the third time in two years. With uncertainty looming behind every one of the many blind curves ahead. Wanting help. Not wanting to ask for it. Fear of rejection. Or yet another loss if you let somebody else get close. 

And one more. This time somebody pretty close. I train with them as much as possible. Draw strength and inspiration and motivation. Gets bad news about a recent pain that isn't as simple or easily corrected as everyone hoped. Maybe it won't be career ending. But it could be. Talking about somebody who ate, drank, slept, and breathed fitness. A self-made person. Little, if any, outside support. Few, if any, family nearby. A fragile, if not irreparable, relationship that rarely, if ever, gets discussed because of the gut-wrenching implications. And several long term plans that may or may not get completely erased, based on the outcome of a recovery program which has no certainty of success. 

Puts my life into a different perspective. A very thankful and appreciative perspective.

Doing Laps

The pool at eFitness has been informally closed for a couple of weeks. Informally meaning that  the heater was broken and the temperature dropped south of 68 degrees but they still kept it open so nobody would request refunds. When they did finally fix it, a plague before your Humble Narrator. So tonight was my first swim of the New Year.

After maybe ten clumsy, half-flailing laps, my chest managed to dislodge the final lung goblins which had been clinging inside me for several hundred meters. Then the old familiar rhythm: reach, pull, breath. Focus on covering space. Minimize drag. Steam streamlined. Reach, pull, breath. Don't lose count. Reach, pull, breath. Twist. Sight. Reach, pull, breath. Crap, I may have lost count. Reach, pull, breath.

And somewhere close to 1800 meters was covered in that fashion.

A fine return and a good sign of things to come. A mile without difficulty. And 21 weeks to go before my next 70.3. Another minor victory.

Not Smart

Doing Crossfit with a diminished lung capacity was not smart. Felt nearly recovered. At first. But just starting the warm-up routine was taxing. Did a couple of snatches. Worked on my form. Then went on a express elevator to the pain cave. 22 wall balls (started with 20# and went down to 14#.) 16 burpees. 10 one-handed kettlebell clean & press. Rinse and repeat. Five times. End of the third round: couldn't catch my breath. End of the forth: sweating non-stop. End of the fifth and final round: half a gasp from puking. Actually walked outside, just in case, arms above my head. Praying nobody saw or heard anything.

Wanted to stop after three rounds. Just tap out and admit defeat. Didn't. Fought through it. Without puking, crying, or dying. One minor victory. More to come. Many more.

Recovery

Whatever assaulted Your Humble Narrator was a devious beast. No clue what it was. Where it came from. But it appears to be on the retreat.Far less coughing. No chills. Minimal sinus issues. Mostly lingering pain in the major muscle groups. Back. Calves. Thighs.

Forty eight hours to fight it off. Without prescription meds. Only sacrificed the bulk of a weekend to it. Still managed to catch a movie and spend time with the kids.

And Monday draws close. The dragons array themselves on battle lines. Motioning me to come forth. Once again.

All Geeked Up

Finally wrestled with my lone XMas present: hard drives! OCZ Vertex 4 solid state drive for the Operating System, and a Western Digital 2TB Black drive for everything else. (Quite an upgrade from the petite 250Gb drive originally in the box!)

Installed the little drive. Cloned the old C: drive onto it. Rebooted. OS came up clean on the new drive. Installed the second drive. Re-slaved the original. (Can't just waste that space...) Cleaned up dust bunnies. Re-routed cables. And thanked my dark computer gods that nothing died or fried and nobody cried.

Speaking of crying, still feel TERRIBLE.  Definitely fighting off a major bug. But at least I was still able to get all geeked up.

Under Assault

After work, just over 24hrs ago, it was Kettlebell Swings, Box Jumps, and Knees To Elbows. By eight o'clock something foul took up residence in my belly. (New Year's Ham, Greg says!) And by eleven o'clock  a torrent of ichor was flowing into my lung. Your Wayward Narrator was fully under assault!

Barely crawled out of bed. Moving like a frozen corpse. Late to the office. Hurting in my joints. And my chest. And my face. No fever, thankfully. Local Doc In A Box doesn't carry flu tests. But the NP suggested a couple of OTC concoctions to try.

All amped up to begin training in earnest, then ten thousand angry bees take up residence in my sinuses. Praying for sleep. Praying for relief. In 2014.

Great Grandma

Looking back, one of the worst parts of 2013 was the rapid decline of Great Grandma. (Who is actually my Grandmother, but my kids call her Great Gradma and my niece Morgan calls her G.G.)

A bad combination of medications gave her bleeding ulcers. The blood loss made her weak. The weakness put her in the hospital in September and didn't get out until late November, or even early December. . And she spiraled almost out of control, briefly landing in the ICU with severe pneumonia. For a few weeks she was in rehab to regain her strength. Then back into the hospital. Then rehab again. And finally, after six or eight weeks, back home. 

But she's frail on the best of days. Easily fatigued due to several heart conditions. And her short term memory is shot. 

My mother pretty much spent four or six straight days trying to watch over Great Grandma. But couldn't do it alone. An around the clock effort was too much work. And neither of Mom's siblings would contribute enough of their time to make a difference. And ultimately they decided to put Great Grandma in a local assisted living facility.

Great Grandma has always been in my life. We were pretty much raised by my grandparents. She has always been strong. Always been supportive. There for any of us when we needed her. 

Not used to seeing her so weak. Or forgetful. My stomach rolls at the thought of her alone, in some foreign facility. How often does she come out of her fog and wonder, "Where am I?" How often is she lonely? Or afraid? Not sure when, if ever, such notions will sit well in my head. But they have to be accepted. The outcome isn't optional. Or avoidable. 

In the meanwhile, I see her on the weekends. Tell her that I love her. Hold her hand. Remember all the wonderful years I had with her. 

I hope we can somehow make her remaining days as happy as she made us.

Bye Bye 2013

Two major victories in 2013: Cindy graduated with Nurse Practitioner degree, and Jon finished his first 70.3 Ironman.

Hopefully we can build from there, in 2014.

Better

Rested instead of running. Instead of drinking. Tall pints of icy adult beverages calling. Thunderstorms rolling behind my eyes. Uninspired at work. Uninspired at play. Restless. Anxious.  Want something, but no idea what. Just something else. At least the aches from Crossfit are better. Measuring my life through a series of small victories.

Ugh

May have over-done it, tonight. The over-head squats didn't feel right. Then the run felt wrong. Now, several hours later, I'm feeling an old wound (that kept me out of River Roux) threaten to flair up again. Scalding shower. Ibuprofen. Some extra rest. Hoping it fends off any potential damage. Otherwise I'll be sidelined for two weeks. Leaving only six weeks before the Long Beach Half Marathon. Ugh!

Out And About

Sunday.Again. Weekend never long enough. Ever. Almost always regret not doing enough On one level or another. Need at least three days in order to unwind and get organized. But that rarely happens.

Was supposed to see Thor, with Liam. If you can imagine, he wouldn't get off the computer in time, couldn't find his glasses, and we had to skip it. Rolled to Nana's, instead. Helped Dad tweak his new PC. Went and picked up Grandma. Hung out with her and Nana and the dogs for a while. If she were not physically weak, G'Ma would be fine. Her grip strength is still there. He wits ares still there. She's very cognizant and mentally alert. But her body continues to wind down, despite the strength of her spirit.

After some time with them, went to pick up Meg from Uncle D's house. She & Alex had spent the afternoon decorating the driveway with My Little Ponies and decorations.Great work by both girls who never cease to amaze us with their creativity, beauty, and awesomeness. If only they'd stay 11 forever!

Lots Of Meh

Spent the majority of today thinking about food, shopping for food, or preparing food. But in the end it wasn't worth my time, effort, or money. And it was all my fault.

Started with the collards from Thursday's Biloxi Farmer's Market. Couldn't get them tender enough. Couldn't cook out enough of the bitterness. Couldn't get any flavor into them. Nothing worse than an unfulfilled craving despite efforts to fill it!

Second fail was the Paleo Chicken Francese. Made it before. Was much better. Burned it this time. The crust was too thick and not very tasty. But it was very disappointing. And yet another unfulfilled craving at the expense of significant effort.

Zucchini & squash noodles are easy. Actually managed to get them right. But they're hard to get wrong. A minor success but the cheapest and easiest creation in the meal.

Only other dish that worked was a break from my Paleo regimen: mac n cheese! But it was only a limited success. Tried a country recipe with some surprising ingredients including dry mustard, sour cream, and worcestershire sauce. But it wasn't decadent or breath taking. And while it didn't get thrown out, it didn't live up to expectations nor was it worth the cards.

Better luck next time, Caveman. You cannot win 'em all.

Day 15 & Crossfit

NoShaveVember. Let it grow! Day 15. Haven't shaved this month. And it is starting to get scratchtastic. Not too bad if you don't mind looking like a nerdy 1970s G.I. Joe action figure, without the muscles or kung fu grip. But Decemeber can't come soon enough.

Hit up Crossfit after work. One of the things that keeps me motivated is thinking, "That's impossible!" then doing it!

Case in point: hand stand pushups. Never done a single one in my life. But did more than thirty of them tonight! The actual meat of the workout included five rounds of this:

• 5 Hand stand pushups
• 12 alternating kettlebell swings
• 12 butterfly situps
• 60 single unders on the jump rope

Nobody else was able to do all of the hand stands. (Probably did 15 just warming up!) And went home feeling fantastic. Though the "butterfly" situps were brutal and (for some unknown reason) my rounds included 15 of them, instead of just twelve. Gonna be sore tomorrow. Looking forward to it.

It Is No Accident

"It is no accident that you
found this note.

This is to remind you that
God loves you.

He wants to be your Savior.
If he is not read Romans 10:13.

Have a good day."

After a long, entertaining adventure in Bay St Louis, this note found me in a gas station restroom.

My first Icy Pints event. Mockingbird Cafe. Jaci asked me to join them. Running through unfamiliar territory. Pacing Cheri. Peggy. Dark, unlit streets. Decent breeze on the beach leg. Girls tricked me, though. Only did 2 miles. Good pace. Just short.

Couple of beers later, we're splitting burgers and the ASPCA girls stop handing out their fliers and decide to hang with us. So many conversations melding across half a dozen people. Dogs and running and more food and veggie burger and that girl's name is Megan while my daughter's name is Meg and we should all do NOLA but still haven't found a room for Seaside and the band is playing her favorite song and WHOOP WHOOP and put away the trash and out of the damn blue, "Jaci lost her keys." Which resulted in an unproductive hour-long manhunt for keys. Her frantically texting people who had left. We're combing the parking lot. She's calling her estranged-husband who is watching their kids. We're searching everyone's table and pockets and tailgates. She's crying. Her coworkers still looking. Cheri ordering another round. Peggy trying to call her down. And I get on the phone with Charles, "I'll take her home, Charles. I have to leave. Please, you stay home with the kids, I'll drop her off. It is on my way." What's he going to do, decline? So she cries her way to my car, leaving hers behind. We navigate back to her house, not too west of mine, talking about work and training and plans and woes and getting too old too fast in this sad crazy world where we discover ourselves too too late.

Then Jaci is gone. Just me. And the moon. And a nearly empty gas tank. Fortunately there is a station. With a clean restroom for my surprisingly full bladder. And it is no accident that I find that note. God loves me. And I love God, back.

Days To Recover

Aside from a complete inability to lift my arms, due to overwhelming soreness, Saturday turned out to be quite an adventure.

Started with a prolonged trip to Long Beach. Neg & Molly in town. Pictures of that girl NEVER do her hair any justice. It's the most beautiful shade of red I've ever seen in person. If there were such a thing as a hair model, she's be a world-traveling fashionista as hers is without equal. If only in my eyes:?

First stop, the Farmer's Market. Picked up some grass fed pot roast, local sweet potatoes, milk, butter, a homemade soda (CHEATDAY!) and some hand-made hot tamales (for Mom.)

Next leg of the show? Best Buy. Pick up a replacement computer and speakers for Dad. Little Dell unit. And Logitech audio. And (shudder) Walmart for sundries that I couldn't find at the Farmer's Market. Carrots, garlic, beef broth, an onion, and ibuprofen. Unfortunately Dad's new computer had a VDI port for video and he was using a DVI cable for the old one. Didn't have a replacement cable or an adapter, so it is off to a different Walmart (sigh) in Pass Christian. After that, setup was quick and easy. Had Dad online again within an hour. Hopefully Mom won't crap this one up with spy/spam/malware. Though she is quite gifted at it.

Concluded the day by prep'ing my veggies for some Crock Pot, Pot Roast tomorrow, then watching UFC. Though just moving and cutting everything was a challenge. Terrrrrribly sore from Crossfit yesterday. Definitely need two days to recover. Maybe even three.

Fit On Friday

Fought off the funk in less than 24 hours! Just in time to return to the gym for my toughest workout to date.

Started with 500m of rowing. (First time I've ever rowed in my life.) Then some running drills (high knees, buttkickers, side runs.) And finally some hamstring and shoulder stretches.

Got the blood flowing with "back squats." 5 sets of 3 reps. 75lbs. 95lbs. 115lbs. 135lbs. And 135lbs. (More PRs for me.)

Then the rough stuff. Sprints and kettlebell swings. And these are FULL swings. All the way up, elbows by the ears.

200m sprint + 50 swings
400m sprint + 40 swings
600m sprint + 30 swings
800m sprint + 20 swings

I finished in second (out of four guys) in 21:15. First place was 21:14. Beat by one swing. Because I took too long recovering from the long run.

Gonna sleep well tonight!

From Grim To Sick

Mood improves and health takes a bad turn. Fighting off some kind of cold. Usual symptoms: sore throat, sneezing excessively, and elevated temperature. Wanted to stay in bed. Sleep until noon. Avoid daylight and duties. But that ain't happening. Work and woes, my best friends. Neither fever nor snot can keep them at bay. Hopefully (HOPEFULLY!) Your Humble Narrator can pull through quickly. Usually do. Benefits of being healthy. Or as healthy as a full time, middle-aged computer dork can be.

A Smidge Better

Second week of Crossfit. Getting cleaner on the power lifting techniques. Good run to start things off. And my mood is better. A smidge better.

Today's Workout Of the Day (WOD) concluded with: 12 Shoulder To Overheads (getting the weight from your shoulders, up over your head, anyway you can) then 9 box dips, and finally 6 wall ball squats. Five sets of those, as quickly as possible. I came in third: 9:54.

Not bad for an old geek. Especially such a newbie to Crossfit.

A Dark Tuesday

Maybe the change of weather. Maybe the time shifting. Maybe the lack of sunlight. Maybe the lack of any serious goals. Don't effing know what has taken hold. But I'm a mental train wreck.

No desire or drive. Completely NOT in the mood to train. Only in the mood to drink large volumes of adult beverages. Which I don't do. So I'm constantly craving it. Not sure what I'm going to do. Or what I really CAN do. Other than push through and force myself to resume training. Nothing else is remotely acceptable.

On top of my dark mood, I think I blew an audition for a talent show at work. Tried something new: stand up comedy. Didn't feel right. My timing wasn't right. And I blanked out one of the bits. Even if I did pass the audition, I'll probably bow out. I was only standing in front of a couple of judges doing my thing. What happens when I'm live in front of hundreds? I don't want to make a fool of myself.

Probably notch it up as a learning lesson. Another check mark on the bucket list.  And on to other opportunities begging for my attention.

On A Monday

Never a dull moment in these parts. I certainly live in interesting times.

• Liam sick this morning. Stayed home, without any electronics. Took a nap on the sofa. Him and Molly Dog snoozing on a cool Autumn Monday.
  
• A pair of drives in a RAID 5 array die, taking a bit of data with them. Of course finding the actual problem (versus the symptoms) took a while. Fixing it took even longer. You'd think the folks who get paid to work on SQL would be able to offer advice on fixing problems. You'd have thought wrong. It was pretty much a tag team shotgun fight with me & KV versus SQL & the array.
  
• Pulled my right hamstring while reaching down for a napkin. Bothered me for hours. Hoping it won't interfere with my training tomorrow. Whole bunch of hurt, just for a napkin.
  
• Cindy's neck acting up. God Willing she graduates in like 49 days.
  
• Meg officially the busiest 11yr old on Earth with music and art and theater claiming parts of her days.
  
• GH flying home from an interesting trip. AE still struggling just to make ends meet while just one paycheck from the street. AG starting a new relationship. Lightning alone. All these relationships spinning madly through the ether. Never slowing. Sometimes good. Sometimes bad. Sometimes both. Sometimes neither.
  
• A project unexpectedly gains traction. Perhaps the worm has turned and my perseverance and mostly-charity-work will pay off in the long run. One way or another, I'm eager to know.
  
• Last minute reboot of the Citrix systems before I wander to bed. 

The rest is rust and stardust. 

Halloween 2013

Storm clouds on the horizon as Meg & Liam started their BVMS Chamber performance at Dallard's this afternoon. Halloween night and everyone gathers for some light string music. 

Cindy & Kim. Nana. Jason, Morgan & Sara. And, just passing through, Work Wife Greg all made appearances.

Due to their musical placement in the chamber, it was a bit of a strain to get one picture with them both in it. Meg is a violinist, on the far left. Liam on the double bass. Far right. Liam's back in my skeleton pullover. Meg in an homage to My Little Pony. Clicking the image will enlarge it. They're circled. But barely in focus.

Afterwards, Meg & Cindy went to Gigi's for Trick Or Treating. Liam & I went home. He had to write a paper for Journalism and I had to wait on the one knock at our door. 

But the highlight of our night was the Chamber performance with two Young McDougals. Proud of them both. Each beautiful. And unique. Two separate, incredible kids. Rapidly approaching adulthood. Different paces. Different paths. Different pieces of me. Of their mother. And we're all blessed to have them in our lives. Even on Halloween.

Crossfit Portside - Day One

Up at 0500. New sweatshop at 0600.But if I'm going to have a serious 2014 season, I have to seriously improve. And get well outside of my comfort zone. So, I have a new trainer: Sara Carter. Certified Crossfit Trainer. Former collegiate women's basketball coach. And now: IronNerd Coach.

Fantastic workout. Just awkward techniques, on my part. Not used to jutting my ass out. Not used to landing on my heels. Or keeping such a rigid stance. Sara kept repeating the instructions. I kept trying. Sometimes I'd get it almost right. Most of the time I got it wrong. But we both kept at it.

My first session started with some interesting warmups: K. Farris Jumping Jacks, wall spiders, PNF squat stretches, and Burgener Warm-Ups. Then (don't laugh) snatch drills. Followed by the main event, As Many Rounds As Possible (AMRAP) supersets of: 3 power cleans, 6 burpees, and 9 air squats inside of three minutes. Five times. With one minute rest between each go.

Pushed through 11 total supersets. 33 power cleans, 66 burpees, and 99 air squats. In 19 minutes. Wish I had snapped a picture of the puddle of sweat.

Didn't feel it, until after lunch. Interested to see how I do in the morning. And then there is next time.

Diverse

Another graduating class at work today. Yearly event. 50 brave souls getting doused in Diversity. I asked to give an introduction to the commencement speaker. Brought my own broken board. From 2010. Told them the bad news: their euphoria eventually wears off, they could eventually slip back into their old manners and roles and moods. But there's good news: they could break more boards. Different ones. At work. In their community. At home. With friends. With family. Or just personal boards. I showed them my latest one: an Ironman Finisher's Medal. And I challenged them to come back one day,to show me their own broken board.

I hope they do it. I hope they challenge themselves. Expand their horizons and try to help reconnect the frayed threads of this crazy world of ours. I barely recognize Jon From 2010. Would he recognize me?

And the distance keeps on growing. Hopefully it grows for them. For all of us. Diverse. But united. Out of many, one.

All The Nothing

Nearly Friday. Cindy playing Taxi Cab Mom for Meg's second day of performances. "It's getting easier," says Red. Meanwhile, Liam's voice cracking. The fine blonde hair on his legs turning dark. And course. He had a rough day at school, he says. I didn't pry for details. Bank account dipped into the red unexpectedly. Four lives on mostly one check extracts a hard toll. Hard not to get mad. But it is what it is.Lifted at the gym to compensate. Still trying to find a Crossfit coach. Still trying to find a running coach.  Planning 2014. And 2015.

 I could burn a week of vacation and still not tie up all my loose ends.

"There's never enough time  to do all the nothing you want." -Bill Watterson

Mid way through

Mid way through the week and there's no sign of applying the brakes.

• My feet have got to be bruised. Somewhere. On some level. When I rub my toes, on the bottom, the bones ache. And despite multiple showers on Saturday and showers each night, my feet still look dirty. As if they're tattooed with mud.
  
• Biked another 20 miles. Felt good.Ramping up for a 72 mile ride in two weeks.
  
• Liam read his English paper for his class. His guy friends talking about the appearance of his moustache. How long before he shaves for the first time?
  
• Meg finally has a day off. Poor Red. Her only day off this week.
  
• Cindy's picture with Kris finally shows up. Hands to yourself, Whistler!

An Unvacation Day

Meg's play (Godspell) technically opened today. I chauffeured her around from the performing arts school (where they performed their first show before a live audience) to the Long Beach Middle School (where they did their first road show.) And that construed most of my vacation day.

Some other highlights of my unvaction.

• First day without Ibuprofen. Probably because I ran out? Main complaint today: my back.
• Quick nap on the sofa resulted in a gnarly cramp in my neck.
• Visited my parents and proceeded to watch their computer fail to boot up for almost an hour. We had the system for nearly two months without any problems. Once my parents get their hands on it, it cannot make it two weeks without getting crapped up and/or dying.
• Trailed Uncle Earl to a car repair shopped that he didn't end up using.
• Liam's English teacher asked him about writing a paper to get a grant from MS Power.
• I should add "plumber" to my resume since I apparently have toilet-repair skills.
• I need another day off just to do the things I didn't do today.

And it is back to the office tomorrow...

On A Monday

Here's how my day goes down:

• Wake up to the most amazing series of cramps, in my hands and forearms. Still walking funny. More Ibuprofen for breakfast.
  
• Driving through the neighborhood, on the way to work, and a squirrel blurs at the edge of my vision. Something goes crunch under a tire. Young couple on their morning walk. The girl covers her mouth. In my rear view mirror, a half crushed smear of brown. Its front legs twitching. As if trying to crawl.
  
• Get to the office. One of my PCs is black. Eight years old, anyway. Windows XP. Not really NEEDED to do my job. But very helpful. When it isn't dead. Later it will turn out to be a bad power supply.
  
• Fire up the other system: 488 emails. And the day is just starting. Another hundred or two hundred emails will climb on top of the mound. Almost faster than I can clear them out. Takes nearly six hours before I whittle it down closer to one hundred. That's what passes as manageable these days.
  
• After hours, a trip to the gym. 19 miles on the bike. 45 minutes and 48 seconds. Lots of sweat. Reminds me: I'm alive.

And a quiet house lulls me to sleep. 

Ironman Augusta - 2013

Of course I didn't sleep right. Maybe five hours. At best. Drams of T1 & T2. Dreams of self motivation. Dreams of not accepting defeat. Anyway. Up at four thirty to finish packing. (No, I didn't pack the night before due to lack of focus and excitement.) On the road by five thirty. Crowded into a bus and shuttled to the transition by six thirty.

Then I'm effectively alone. No team members near. Just me and me. Felt great. No nerves. An odd sense of calm and focus. Took my time. Everything in the right place. Minimized chaos. Maximized escape velocity. With only a minute to spare before it closed, I removed my glasses (effectively rendering me blind) and cleared out of transition.

A long, blurry walk to the swim start. Plenty of time to collect my thoughts. The plan? Relax. Breathe. Enjoy. Don't burn out. Don't burn out. Don't burn out. And above all else: stick to the plan! (Famous last words?)

My age group was the single largest. Over 460 men aged 40-44. All of us in white caps. Zooming into the first picture there are two bridges beyond my toes. The second, barely visible, bridge is the HALFWAY point in the swim. Thankfully, the weather went from cold to perfect very quickly, and as we gathered to enter the water, I knew it would be a good day.

Some early luck. J.G. found me wandering and helped me (remember, I'm just about blind!) drop of my gear bag then shuffled me to the right line. Hugged Tish. Hugged Lisa. And (big bonus!) Jack Gazzo found me right before the point of no return. I get lumped in with Jack, Ryker, and Chris Kirby. All of us fired up and ready to start.

Jack had a plan. A great plan! With such a large group, we wouldn't start in the front. We'd hold back, wait 10 or 20 seconds for the brutes to clear out, then enter the water behind the egg beater. Not only that, but literally at the last minute, Jack decides we should sit on the floating dock, OPPOSITE the first line of guys. When the horn sounds, a hundred men jump off one side of the dock. The whole thing is violently rocked from their inertia, like a giant teeter totter strung across the Savannah river. Those of us sitting down slide down gracefully into the water. Those others standing in the middle are virtually thrown through the air and land with a half-bellyflop to start their mile long swim. And that is how almost five hundred of us entered the water at 8:12A.

The brain does strange things during moments of excitement and stress. Time unhinges. Distances compress. I barely remember the first half mile. It is a blur of elbows and me thinking, "Wow! I'm passing people soooo fast!" That first half mile took like nineteen seconds, in my mind. Then reality crept into the equation. Everytime I tried to sight my way down the course, I'd get an eyeball full of beautiful, burning sunlight. If I tried to angle towards more open water, it would be a fist fight. And if I slowed down, Jack Gazzo was behind me, punching me in the foot in a silent suggestion of hurrying up! Where the first half was over quickly, the second half took an hour. I kept thinking: "Where is the red buoy? I'm ready to get out!" And finally, after only 27 minutes (three minutes ahead of my goal,) we were out, sprawling in front of "strippers" who pulled off our suits, then racing into transition! (And the guy punching me in the foot for a mile? It wasn't Jack! No idea who it was, but he was chasing me the whole way...)

T1 was cool except for the huuuuge gap between the water and my bike. But that is what happens when there are 3500 folks in a race. Could I have rushed through? Sure. Did I breathe, take it easy, and enjoy it? Yup! So I thought it was a nice, smooth transition. And then I was onto the bike for at least three hours.

By ten miles into the course, I was clocking an average of 20MPH. Lots of race adrenaline and my legs were still super fresh. But I knew I couldn't keep pushing myself. Not for another 44 miles. So I stuck with the plan: Relax. Breathe. Enjoy. (Plus I made sure to nail my fuel plan: alternating between gel and half a Stinger waffle every twenty minutes.)

Overall, I was very well prepared (thanks to weeks of listening to Luke!) had a great ride. I was passing people left and right. Some folks passed me. I said, "Good morning!" often. I grabbed bananas on the fly. Cruised up a four kilometer hill. Didn't have a flat. Didn't throw a chain. And before I knew it, we were cruising back into Augusta, where I finished before my 3hr goal.

T2 also blurred. Found my spot, racked the bike, swapped shoes, swapped the helmet for a visor and dashed out. Before I knew it, I was one kilometer into the run, clocking just under six minutes. Ahead of pace! Had to slow down! Relax. Breathe. Enjoy.

So I settled into my decidedly slow pace and tried to survive. By now, it was noon. No clouds. And long gaps without shade or water. Again, the brain gets weird and mine kept telling me: slow down! Even though I wasn't tired or winded. Mainly just hot. The crowd helped, though. People cheering. People holding up signs. Volunteers by the hundreds with water and oranges and more bananas. Despite my turtle pace, I was passing people and almost (almost!) happy. After eight miles, though, something started feeling going sideways and a toe on my left foot (next to my pinky toe) felt like it was bleeding. Don't ask why I thought that. I know it wasn't real. Still, on two occasions I came to a complete stop, pulled off my shoe, pulls off my sock, and made sure my foot was okay. And it was. Thankfully. Anyway, my goal was two hours and thirty minutes. I ended up running a half marathon in about two hours and forty minutes. Could have done better (should have done better!) but I stuck to my plan and didn't gas out. If nothing else, I can say I didn't bonk on my first Ironman.

My goal for the whole race was six hours and thirty minutes. Even with a wonky rear derailer on the bike, a rubbing brake, and two stops on the run, I still finished in 6:11:31.

I crossed the line, bowed my head to receive my medal, and somebody said, "Jon McDougal, you are an Ironman..." To which I responded, "After all of that, damn right I am!" People laughed. Somebody patted me on the back. And there was a photographer there to capture the moment.

Overall, I loved it. Having done more than a dozen other events, this was one of the best. Especially for my first Ironman. I am definitely going back. I am definitely doing other Ironman events. And I'm definitely going to train harder and smarter next season.

I also loved having so many people from my team up there: Luke, Eddie, Jack, Lisa, Kristen, Onnie, David B, David S, J.G., Tish, Gini, Alice, Chris, April, the Kirby's, and like 50 other.

And a special note of thanks & admiration to Luke Davidson for MONTHS of patience, suggestions, and guidance in getting me to Ironman Augusta. I never would have or could have done it without his encouragement and the examples he set for me. He beat me, this time. But we're already planning our next BIG adventure...

Compressed

Worked from home while Cindy took a day-trip to Jackson. Yet another printing outage. My own account locked out. A missing lunch order. Security theater on display by the AF Base. Gigi's car woes. Pruning down hundreds of work emails. The same with hundreds of backlogged personal emails. Trying to catch up on these journal entries. Fitness plans falling through. Texts. Instant Messages. The agony of sifting signal from the noise of Facebook growing to a crescendo. And all the while, two beautiful growing young kids loom over my shoulders. All compressed into just one sitting.

Tired tired tired of being a nerd.

But it pays the bills.

And I have miles to go before I sleep.

Pub Run - 08/13/13

Ran in the rain. Supposedly cooled the raw temperature down to 77. But with heat and steam rising off the streets plus the humidity, it still felt closer to 107. Only did 5K because we didn't know if the weather would clear up, or get worse. Thought we had a good pace. Like 8:15/mile. Ended up being 9:15/mile instead.

Drank my dinner. Took of some of my recent edge. Not enough. But better than nothing. Sobriety is greatly over-rated, but I self-exempt myself after three rounds. Or four.

Anger Issues

We let this stuff build up behind our eyes. Perceived slights. Placing blame. Resentment. A glacial crawl of weight growing, growing, growing heavier on our chest. We don't address our issues. We suffer them in private silence. Maybe we don't know how to voice our differences. Maybe we're scared. But we stuff it down. On top of everything else haunting us.

The vast majority of us are living like literal gods in comparison to the rest of the world. With our air conditioned, internet connected homes and our access to clean water and a reliable power grid. But we take up mental spears. And pierce those we claim to love the most. For even the smallest offenses. Real or perceived. And slowly, oh so slowly, we change. We stop doing small, meaningful things. Stop helping. Stop praising. And it all turns into one long, drawn out conflict. Usually, over nothing.

At the end of the day, we just want to be happy. You should be happy. Let me be happy. Why can't we be happy together. Help each other to get there. Meet in the middle. Cooperate. Compromise. Support the other's goals.

Instead, it is anger issues. And stray thoughts of self-medicating. Over-compensating. Negativity. And resentment. Nothing productive. Or supportive.

Round and round.

Damn.

Mighty Meg

My Mighty Meg. Such a radiant, seething fireball of beauty and awesomeness. She is the blood in my heart. And fills me with unmeasurable happiness. So, a couple of new milestones for her today.

Last week she auditioned and this week she joined up with Wings for their next production, in October. She started rehearsing today and came home with really cool songs and all her lines. Following in her mother's and grandmother's shoes, there. A long time to go, but she already sounds great. If it were up to Meg, they could do the play in weeks, not months.

And we went ahead and gave her a phone of her own. Middle School and all. Just a flip phone. Mostly for calling if she needs something, or touching base with texts. She's already been sending me messages and has her own blend of ringtones.

How long until she has her own star in Hollywood?

She'll need Daddy manage her webpresence! (Yeah, right...)

Pass Christian Ride - 08/10/13

Up at five. Out by five thirty. Over to Pass Christian War Memorial Park. On the line, ready to roll midway through six.

All manner of friends and fiends joining for their own version of the ride. Different paces. Different paces. How many of us? Fifty? Sixty? Not sure anybody counted. Big group. Bigger each time we do it.

Nice morning. Clear skies. Light traffic. No personal injuries. (This time!) Better fueled. More focused. Smoother pace.

Stayed in the lead pack for the better part of two hours. Me, Luke, Ryker, and a couple of others. Feeling stronger. More confident. Less sore. Getting accustomed to the bike and the new angles.
Due north, from the park. Up to the interstate. Across the hills of Cunningham Road. Further north for extra miles. Then a spin back south. Almost to the tracks. And due west, to the bridge. Across that monster. Still leading the way. Not sure who, if anyone is in front of me as we finally hit the last stretch in Bay St Louis.

After two hours, the final piece of the ride is a long, mostly straight, mostly flat cruise along the beach, ending at the Silver Slipper Casino.

Started losing steam when the first bit of headwind found us. Maybe it was mental. (Probably.) Could have been physical. Needed a break by the casino. Training app crashed. Restarted and made the journey back to Pass Christian. Considerably slower. Lost 20% of my pace on that portion. But finished it without puking, crying, or quitting.

Three hours. Fifty one, fifty two, fifty something miles.

Great way to start the day.

July Rewind 2013

Heat Wave Classic. 17th Anniversary with Cindy. Summer starts. Hurricane season. The heat begins to visit.

• Swim: 3.5 miles
• Bike: 111 miles
• Run: 13 miles
• Strength Training: 10 hours
• Calories burned: 24836

My Girls

Days drag. Days fly. Yesterday Meg turned 11. The day before she was born. Last week I'd just gotten married. Last month I met Cindy in a faraway land. And here we are, two hundred years later, trying to figure out, once again, who sleeps where, and when. They play dirty though. My girls team up on me. "But I love you," says the little one. "She's not ALWAYS going to be this way," says the bigger one. And what chance does Daddy have against such concrete logic? What's the use in making two of them unhappy when I should just cave in. Again. And that's our usual dance. But they're happy. And sometimes I have my moments. Won't always be this way, she says. Be nice, she says. My girls.

Pub Run - 08\06\13

Approaching one hundred degrees in the shade. Ran 5K. Breathing in road dust and napalm. Finish in a literal puddle of my own sweat. Toweling off in the muted restroom of Irish Coast Pub. A nerd and his odd obsession. Mostly a social craving. Maybe something to be said about a nagging pseudo-addiction. Run then beer then camaraderie. Not sure which calls the loudest. Probably the booze. Self medicating. Anger issues. No resolution. Just take the edge off of them for a week at most. At least a day. Or three.

Summer in South MS tests the soul. In multiple ways.

Rethinking

Training yesterday wiped me out. Swim was hot.  Bike ride was beyond hot. Approaching painful. Ambient temperature in the shade was 109. With the heat index. Temperature on the road was nearly 115. We intended a two hour ride. But 45 minutes into it, we'd burned 75% of our water and could barely catch our breath. Drenched in sweat. Panting like an old hound dog. We settled for an hour. That turned out to be the worst training event of the year. So far.

Rethinking training. Simply cannot bike late like that in the future. One hour felt like three. The resulting dehydration was severe. And the whole process was likely more destructive than productive.

Maybe try three hours on the training after work. And stick with EARLY rides on the weekend. Swim indoors. Early morning runs before work.

But training in the late afternoon heat isn't going to fly much longer. Augusta or no Augusta. Hard to go to a race if you're dead from heat exhaustion.

Liam At 14

Hopefully a good day for my son, Liam. Had his buddy Bryce over last night. Received a new HTC One phone. (Swwwweeeet!) Golf shirts. Golf shoes. Money. Friends and family swung by. And favorite meal for dinner.

School starts soon enough. Music. Studies. The usual litany of woes a teen has to suffer. Learning to drive soon. Maybe a job in the future? Growing up all too fast. Can we slow down just a bit here?

Pictured below, left to right, Tolar, Liam, Alex, and Meg. In the background, Darren, Amy, Cindy, and Gigi.

And after the break, a video?

Here's August

What a day. Brutal heat. Swapped out a robotic arm. Wrestled with four different techs, with four different accents, on a super-prolonged Citrix issue. Nearly 11 hours at the office. G'Ma in the hospital after five unexpected ulcers cause massive bloodloss. Liam's new phone. My new Nexus. Cindy's migraine. Missed my THREE workouts. A coworker gets sent home. "Wepons!" Chinese food. And boom, here's August.

What. A. Day.

Widening Gyre

Burned out on the job. Contemplating a long vacation. Burning out on training. Tired of being tired. Cindy growing increasingly frantic as she crowds towards graduation. Stress making her physically ill. Along with the rest of us in her wake. Meg growing with each second. Embarrassed when I hear she has to shave her legs tonight. She's trying out for a theatre group next month. Liam's fourteenth birthday nearing. Next year he'll be driving. Maybe working a little part time gig. On his way to college soon.

My kids, becoming teens. Then adults.

All too soon.

Everyone moving in their own directions. Our orbits expand. An invisible, glacial pace.

Turning and turning in my ever widening gyre. The runner cannot hear what he is running from. Threads unravel. The center never holds.

Sighting

Click the image. Look closely.

See that tag? Uncle Ted, yo! First sign of trouble.

Notice the equine, yet? In the passenger's seat.

Yep. That's a horse, riding shotgun.

Summer in South Mississippi.

Recover

Odd thing about bruises. They remind you of your stupidity at the oddest time. Even when you don't stare at them, they make themselves known. And then there is the constant cracking and flexing of road rash on an also-bruised kneecap. A keen eye will observe three areas of impact. It hurts worse than it looks. Especially when you're trying to watch a show and your daughter decides to poke one of them. We both jump at my reaction. Me from the surprise of pain. Her from the surprise of my yelp. A good laugh for both of us.

Then a run. Five kilometers through the jungle-like humidity of a post-thunderstorm South Mississippi. Felt good. Despite the rivulets of sweat. Should have done more. Trying not to over-do it, though. Short run today. Running drills Wednesday. Long run Friday. Ten weeks until Augusta. It all hinges on my run. In the meanwhile, it just: recover from these bruises.

Fueling For A New Week

Long swim today. After a major squall blew through. Tons of newbies. First open water for some. All of us huddled under the pavilion. Wind blasting the rain sideways. Temperature dropped to seventy. Or less. Twenty or so minutes of Nature's abuse, then we hit the water. Full distance for me. For Augusta. Felt good. Just boring. Oddly surreal, swimming in a rainstorm. The lake slightly warm. Cold drops on my arms. Goggles all foggy. Swimming among ghosts.

Came home, grabbed The Boy, and went shopping. Supplies for dinner. Cooked a batch of homemade spaghetti sauce. Complete with grass-fed ground beef. Side of squash + zucchini. Good stuff. Surprised that something I make tastes so good. Went overboard with the fresh oregano, though. Waaaay overboard.

Fueling up for a new week of training.

Near the two month point.

Already.

Quick FIx

Didn't leave work until 7P. Dragon slaying is tough stuff. Builds an awful appetite. Came home and needed a quick fix. Ended up with something terribly easy and delicious.

Sauteed a thin-sliced onion in some coconut oil. Threw in some minced garlic. Let that soften up and added half a box of baby spinach. Grabbed a low-carb wrap. Handful of rotisserie chicken. Couple of slices of fresh cheddar from the farmers market. And voila!

Not exactly Paleo, but still super nummy. Didn't  need salsa or sauce or any additional seasoning. 

Actually ate two servings. And there's a happy belly in the house, now.

Neighborhood Run 07/16/13

Another late evening run through the neighborhood. Slightly cooler. Still drenched in sweat. Felt comfortable. 5.7 miles. 54:57. 885 calories. Should have done another half mile. But ended close to the house, on a good note. And significantly less dog-ified, too.

Ten weeks out from Augusta. Got half the distance under my belt. Without any concerns. Just keep pushing my curve. Celebrate the series of small victories. Anyway, feeling much better about the race, now. Slowly and surely, I'll get there.

To Do List

A day of rest. Almost. Still managed to bang out some things on my To Do List. Chore list for the kids. Laundry. Dishes. Plumbing parts & top soil from Lowes. Working with Liam to mow the grass. And a dash over to Mexican food with Bride & Kids for dinner. All's well that ends well in my book.