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.