Rescued By RockTape

Mike Tyson infamously said, "Everybody has a plan until they get punched in the mouth," We were half a mile into an eight mile hike on the Black Creek Trail, when an unexpected punch arrived and did its best to disrupt my plans. The second major voyage of the Southern Trail Hiking Club. We met just outside of Wiggins, MS. Slightly overcast. Slightly cold. Everyone full of energy and smiles. No sign of any trouble looming on the horizon. But it was there, coyly hiding just out of sight. Waiting for an opportunity to pounce. And then... it happened.

First the left boot. Felt like it was dragging. Then flopping. And... yeah... the sole of the boot apparently dry-rotted after too many blazing summers in the garage... and on the trail, the more solid rubber began to detach from leather underside. That boot wasn't going to last very long. And... yeah... the LEFT boot was also dry rotted.... and while crossing HW49, an odd step felt completely uncushioned, because the entire left sole had detached and was sitting in the road, cold and lonely.

Fortunately, my newly provisioned medical pouch contained a secret ingredient. Lo and behold, the boots ended up being rescued by... RockTape! A couple of strips over the top. A strip over the toe. A strip over the heel. On BOTH boots. And they proceeded to hold for 7.5 miles. Almost 20,000 steps through mud, rocks, sand, and straw covered hills, that RockTape held those rotten soles in place and helped me get back to the car without going full blown Flintstone.

So, yes, the punch hurt. But it didn't ruin my plans. And we all had a great time together on the Black Creek Trail.

Frosted Fanny 2016

Slightly cold. Slightly overcast. 45 degrees and cloud. But my Clydesdales Crew rocked the Frost Fanny for 2016. Two mile run + 10 mile bike + 2 mile run. And they all finished strong. Very proud of each of them all the time and dedication they've put in this year. They stuck to their plans, paced well, and performed well. Afterward, they all recovered quickly and were smiling ear to ear.

A good way to start the year. The highlight of my month. And a lot more to come!

Bikes, instead of politics.

A funny reaction to the rapidly degrading atmosphere on Facebook today. One of my fitness friends decided to post a picture of bikes, instead of politics. Then tagged others of us, and suggested we do the same. Within hours, it was burning its way across all our feeds.

A welcomed change. Wouldn't it be great if we all posted something about ourselves, instead of about politics?

But... isn't that what Facebook is SUPPOSED to be about in the first place? Hrm....

Like This.

Wake @ 0500.

Coach CrossFit @ 0600

Take Meg to school @ 0745

Work starts @ 0800

Work continues until 1930

Go home, eat, sit back down.

Work finally ends at @ 2200.

No training.

No playing. 

No time with the family.

Endless stress.

 ...days like this.

Started, Again

There are never enough hours in my day. Never. Pressures from the day job. Pressures from personal projects. And personal plans. Training several athletes. Training myself. Wife of 20yrs. Daughter of nearly 15yrs. And the son of approaching 18yrs needs to start looking at (gasp) colleges, soon. Non-stop adventures for Your Humble Narrator.

What gets cast aside? Reading. (My stack of books has to be two dozen deep.) Television. (Not a big loss, there.) Movies. Dates. Drinking (should feel like less of a loss but MAN those drinks were calming.) And catching up with friends & family. Not to mention the sacrifices for work and wounds from 2016. Those scars are still healing. Inside, and out.

Trying to get started, again: Train better. Compete more often. Coach better. Live, love, and father better. Make up for lost time, and missed opportunities.

So wish me luck. Whichever way it goes, you'll know first.

Gaps In The Deluge

The storms from last night continued through most of today. Sometimes the rain appeared to be going sideways as great gusts of wind caught it.

Escaped our confinement briefly to walk around the neighborhood with Cindy. (Was supposed to run. That didn't pan out!)

During another gap in the deluge, Glenda & Tolar stopped by mid-day. To wake The Edgy Teens and touch base. Happy New Years and tales about growing up in the balmy depths of South Mississippi.

And during a final lapse in the waves of rain, we went to see Star Wars: Nobody Bathes, Interesting flick. Bit predictable. Bit of a divergence from the norm. Better writing. Better acting. Stellar effects. Much enjoyment by everyone involved.

Afterwards, bit of the ol' Guitar Hero for my Edgy Teens. Apparently the position of the mouth is critical to their success. Meg did well. Liam played on a level so difficult that my brain couldn't process the action. And yet they both earned nearly perfect scores. Breath taking to watch these kids in action. "Blessed," is the phrase we use most often. And we continue to enjoy it while it lasts.

Peter Anderson Festival - 2016

Took Cindy to The Peter Anderson Art Festival, in Ocean Springs, this morning. From nearly zero steps on Tuesday to three miles of art festival on Sunday! Over 500 exhibitors. All manner of arts and crafts and tattoos and food and Daisy Dukes and a beautiful parade of slow eclectic Southerns strolling the streets of one of the most laid back towns on The Gulf Coast.

Saw art that reminded us of The Girl. Saw art that reminded us The Boy. Art that reminded us of our parents. Our friends. Shakespeare. Each other. Even... the dog!

Then lunch at Woody's. Bison for He. California Burger for She. Nearly 6800 steps, today. And all is right in the universe. For now.

Stepping Up

First weekend of increased mobility in the wake of The Procedure. Have been increasing my volume of steps each day since ditching The Blue Crutches.

• Wednesday: 1703 steps
• Thursday: 2430 steps
• Friday: 5740 steps
• Saturday: 6383 steps

Very happy with the direct of my recovery. And overall progress. Very little pain. Most of my non-fitness activities have returned to their norms. And once the stitches are removed (on Wednesday) there should be an opportunity to introduce some mobility work and maybe some light training. In the meanwhile, it is just one day at a time.

Covered all the steps today by visiting the Long Beach Farmer's Market, then went to hang out with my parents for a while, and finally had lunch with RPG. Enjoyed catching up with everyone and getting out of the house for several hours. 

Wrapped up the day with a walk through the neighborhood, some MMA on television, and a marathon round of Clean Up Jon's Bookmarks (six years worth!) 

Great day! Looking forward to many more in the future.

Leaving Wells Fargo - Part II - Kids Accounts

The second stage of abandoning Wells Fargo. This time we're opening accounts for The Kids. Somewhat easier because they're young and don't actually have a legal say in the matter. Nor are they legally required to be involved. Slightly complicated by trying to get Navigator to match the exact same setup we' are currently using.  Nothing to difficult or unusual. Each kid has their own account. We're their owners. That sort of thing. But two kids means twice the work. 

How did it go? Good and Bad. 

Good: It was easy. The service person did all the complicate mumbo jumbo. Lots of clickity clackity on the keyboard mostly. Some scanning. Some online entries. We only had to sign on an electronic signature pad. About a dozen times. Per kid! Amount of actual effort required by us? Bring in ID for everyone, sign two dozen times. Done. 

Bad news: It took significantly longer than planned. About half an hour per account. So an hour all together. Based on my initial opening of the count, we budgeted thirty minutes, total. 

What should we have done differently? We should have dropped off copies of the kid's ID, gone to lunch, then come back when all the paperwork was done and spent <5min dance.="" div="" doing="" signature="" the="">

Next step? Setup direct deposits at work. The spice must flow! But we do not know if the funds will flip in two weeks, four weeks, or more. Have to check out the exact timing, then plan accordingly.

Verdict so far? Very easy!  Navigator is modern, quick, friendly, provide superior customer service, and they're all about maximizing value to its members, not maximizing profit for their shareholders at the expense of their customers.

Stay tuned for more. And if you want to help fix the problems with our economy, start looking for a Credit Union in your neck of the woods. We'll get it done, together!

Won't Be Missed

Progress continues at a steady pace. Still fairly pain free. (Aside from the occasional pinch of stitches pulled too tight too quickly . . .) Haven't needed even the first bit of medicinal relief, even on the day of the procedure. Just a slight hint of blood appearing on the bandage after a day of walking on it. No crutches for the second day in a row. And my gait is improving!

So, with little fanfare but much respect, it is time to say goodbye to my friends: the blue crutches. You served me well and faithfully until the end.  Your aid was greatly appreciated. But you won't be missed.

And Your Humble Narrator shuffles of to his next slow milestone. But looking forward to future adventures and opportunities to excel.

On My Feet

My journey to recovery continues, at full speed, and today brought several "Firsts:"

• First day back to The Office since having surgery. It went well as everyone was supportive and eager to help when needed. Lunch took longer than usual. Breaks did, too. But one of my favorite projects came closer to fruition and we're starting to see light at the end of the tunnel. 
• First shower in a week. Been taking an awkward bath, instead. The Wound was sealed inside a Ziplock Bag and my whole leg was propped up, high and dry, on the side of the tub. Not an ideal solution, but it kept things clean and healthy. 
• First unaided steps! Spoke to the doctor today she said that some exploratory steps were permissible. As long as it didn't hurt (too much) and it did not cause any damage to the exposed portion of The Wound. So that happened. And the crutches have gone unused since we all came back home. 

Feels good to be fully upright and on my own legs again. Six days of half-hopping everywhere was definitely twisting up my back. Hopefully recovery continues at this pace,the wound keeps closing, and there are races and coaching and more in my future. For now, it is a victory just to be on my feet. 

Chicks Dig Scars

The irony is not lost on me. The first 35+ years of my life were idly spent without any sincere form of fitness. While there was a definitely a good degree of happiness involved in many of those years, most of my 30s consisted of a slow spiral of deterioration mixed with a hybrid dose of depression plus personal disappointment.

Flat forward to today. And my mood apparently sours after just five days without some form of fitness. (Aided by the soreness of crutches rubbing against uncushioned ribs, the Good Leg cramping from beating the burden of the Bad Leg, and the constantly uncertainty of when any form of serious activity is even possible again.)

Yes, yes. A large glass of White Whine. Remember the good news:

Still have the foot. Clean bill of health. Road to recovery. This too shall pass.

Got it. Cheering up. As we speak. Much better now. Thanks!

Fortunately, the weekend hasn't been a total loss. Spent a great deal of time catching up on digital projects. Watched several entertaining movies based on Marvel graphic novels. Had plenty of time with the family. The house is the cleanest it has been in many moons. And almost the whole week of meals has been prep'ed. So whilst depression has been looming on the horizon, productivity has been rampant.

For the gluttons out there, a SMALL photo from today's "Airing of the Wound" has been attached. Not my intention to disturb anyone, but several folks have expressed interest. The main concern right now is keeping everything sealed and letting the minor gap in the middle of the excised area to close. Each day has shown an improvement.

The current thinking is: continue to keep everything immaculately clean, continue to avoid any weight-bearing activities by using the crutches, and hope the "boot" arrives soon. In the meanwhile, IronNerd is hopping around (poorly) resisting the urge to complain.

Skin graft? No. Physical therapy? Probably not. Scar? Probably so. But, to borrow from my old friend Evel Knievel: Bones heal, and chicks dig scars.

Wounded Or Not

Wounded or not, IronNerd's work is never done. Today's adventures included: hoisting a DHCP service to replacing those lost by a dying router, swapping a UPS that didn't need to be swapped, ordering a 220v outlet at the last possible hour, and scrounging for nearly a dozen network ports on switches that had no holes to fill. The project comes to fruition on Monday. If it goes well, there will be more of them along the same line. If it doesn't go well... ...let's agree that it will go well.

Rest this weekend. Visit The Parents. Prep meals for the coming week. Hopefully heal. And then back in the saddle on Monday. One way or another.

Liam At The Crossroads

Liam visited the Crossroads today. Rosedale, Mississippi. Where Robert Johnson sold his soul to The Devil. Exchanged it briefly for musical genius.

 Man sitting off to the side of the road on a log at the crossroads says, “You’re late, Robert Johnson.” Robert Johnson drops to his knees and says, “Maybe not.”

Whirlwind tour for Liam & The Blue Notes: Rosedale, Tunica, Memphis. Cotton fields. A juke joint. Grave sites. Historic grocery stores. Lonely back roads. All too present in the thick social airs of Mississippi. Some things never change. Not down here. Time doesn't touch us in certain places.

Liam's goup passed a sign commemorating the site where 14yr old Emmett Till's body was pulled from the river. The sign was riddled with bullet holes. And never repaired. Sadness and hate in a long embrace. 21st century and this is how we show our respect. How we come together as a culture and try to overcome stereotypes. Or do we just wear these scars a little too proudly? Some things never change. And we wonder why The Aliens won't talk to us?

But hopefully Liam and his generation can leave behind such petty differences. Learn from the mistakes of all our previous generations. Start new, productive conversations. And maybe he strike one up with a higher intelligence, one my generation was willing, or able, to meet.

Procedure Du Jour

Yes, yes. The Procedure Du Jour. But you must suffer through my telling of it!

 0530 - Up with with two women (My Bride & The Girl) who did not wish to be up at 0530 and dealing with the woes of Your Humble Narrator.

0600 - The Girl is deposited at Her Grandmother's House, where she ponders the universe from a 14yr old's perspective, and waits to be dropped off at High School while My Bride continue to drive the two of us to Memorial for The Procedure.

0700 - Admitted to Pre-Op Whereupon a scrub-festooned army of different nurses randomly visit for the next two hours. Your Humble Narrator figured it was to argue over who was to do the sponging, later. But it turned out to be formalities such as: Do you have any dentures or piercings? When is the last time you ate? (Which was asked at least five times!) Are you allergic to anything? (Just pain...) Who will make medical decisions for you in the event that you are not able to? And can I get you a blanket, or anything? (Since they are apparently required to keep the Surgical Unit at the precise temperature that begins to slow your heartbeat, without throwing you into full blown hypothermia!) Oh yeah, at some point, one of the Inquisitors came through and decided their lovely veins on my arm were not as lovely as the veins on the back of my hand and put the IV in there.

0900 - Wheeled into OR4. Slid me onto a separate, much colder bed, removed my glasses and placed an antiseptic-smelling mask over my face in one very ninja-like movement, and plunged me into darkness after only twice saying, "Smooth deep breaths." The rest was silence.

1000 - Or thereabouts - The high tides retreat and Your Humble Narrator's brain comes up for its own air. Felt decidedly hung over for the first few minutes as Arthur ("Call me Art") asks "How are you doing?" and takes my vital signs every 74 seconds. After the fifth rotation of questions and vitals, my eyes are able to stay open as the dizziness from the Anesthesia  Hangover has subsided and my answers likely become more coherent and less pseudo vulgar.For the next hour, the excitement continues to mount. First one of my neighbors goes into anaphylactic shock and  is hit with multiple unsuccessful syringes of epinephrine before they re-sedate her and wheel her off to the ICU.Then a new neighbor is brought in, after receiving "back surgery." As his brain wakes up, it decides that combat is called for. Immediate combat! His body responds by kicking off the sheets, to the shock and awe of his nurse (Bart (Yes, that was his name!)) And when The Combatant decides to start at the various lines and tubes cleverly plugged into him, my nurse ("Call me Art") leaps into action to support the embattled Nurse Bart. Being the most lucid patient on the unit certainly had its advantages and thankfully no additional aid was required for me. Because none was available. But the free entertainment helped pass the time.

1100 - Back to the Pre-Op, where My Bride awaited.......patiently. (*rimshot*) My doctor had already left instructions for future care. An impressively strong prescription was ordered. Additional wraps put in place as soon my first attempt at standing resulted in a trickle of blood being released from the initial wraps. The Mandatory Itchy & Flimsy Gown was removed, to replaced by Nerd Approved street clothes. And then the long Wheel Chair Ride of Shame back to our car.

1200 - Stopped to be measured for a "brace" that won't arrive for 7 - 10 days later.

1300 - Home again. Without a skin graft. And surprisingly NOT in any form of pain or discomfort. But quite hungry, having not eaten all day.

And that, My Friends, concludes The Procedure Du Jour. Further updates will be provided as they become available. Including unfiltered commentary about the lack of fitness which will follow...

A Last Supper

Stupid procedure tomorrow. 0630. Broad excision around Ye Ol Aberration on the left ankle. Should be a lot of fun. Including the anesthesia. Nothing quite like another human taking full responsibility for your breathing while another take a knife to you! There's always a risk of complications with THAT process, by itself. (Flashback to my Grandfather's botched anesthesia!)

So Cindy took me to The 27th Avenue Burger Bar, for a last supper. Just in case. Your Humble Narrator ordered The Woodsman, which is a venison burger topped with foie gras, caramelized onions, local salt-cured bacon strips, and a fried egg. Along with a side of Parmesan fries. My Bride partook of the Crabby Patty & Chips.

Washed it down with a couple of Not Your Father's Rootbeers. Discussed the Rap/Gospel fusion as well as random hookers that plagued me at the Roach Motel during my early months in Atlanta as well and the Legendary Ghost Pimp.Great food and a great time with The Beloved. If tomorrow is my last day, tonight was a good night for A Last Supper.

Before Bed

Whatever you do, DO NOT experiment with your Training Mask before you go to bed!!! There won't be much sleep involved! And stray thoughts will be bouncing off the inside of your skull like Ricochet Rabbit! Prescription for insomnia right there. Trust me. Here there be monsters. Definitely not one of my smarter moves and it won't be repeated in the future.

(But the mask is an interesting tool, if you use it correctly (and during the proper time!))

River Roux Training - Week 2

A poor training week by anyone's standards. Missed several workouts, flats during a ride, an unexpected request, missed mobility often, and briefly fought off a cold. But the highlights did include: an amazing ride and an interesting run.

Rested, completely, today. (Even had a great night's sleep!) Liam carpooled back to MSMS. Prep'ed my food for the week. And went to see Hell Or High Water with Cindy. (Great movie with an exceptional sound track.)

Hoping to get back on schedule, tomorrow. Swim, bike, mobility, and steps.  Or at least some combination of those. Who knows what tomorrow brings for Your Humble Narrator.

Did well enough

Nothing like a little 47 mile bike ride to start your morning. Luke, Jack & Onnie, Jen & Chris, and IronNerd.

The usual route around Robinwood, then over to the Traditions course, up to 67, to Loraine Cowan, and back again.

You can imagine how it went: long, hot, sweaty, and ultimately boring. Worst of all, it only burned 1300 calories!

Happy with the outcome. Did well enough. Hopefully it continues to improve.

We shall see.

Teachers & Anniversaries

August 20th marks Parents' Day at The MS School of Math & Science. Wake up early, more meetings, more reassurances that our students are in good hands, and ample appreciation that we were willing to send our offspring "off to school" two years early. One kid has already gone home. A couple more are on the watch list. But Liam is doing well and he is settling into his new schedule with surprising ease. Hoping Meg sees the value, gets past her inherent fear of the unknown, and she could be the second McDougal to land here, in a couple of year.

After the formalities, we went from class to class and met each of Liam's teachers. Each one of them was amazing. It's pretty much a guided tour through college for Juniors & Seniors in High School. So many opportunities and challenges. Projects and expectations. Most (if not all?) of the instructors have post-graduate degrees. And many of them have their doctoral degrees. If things work out, Liam will have several high-value projects under his belt, lots of official research experience from internships at MSU, and a ton of college credits from two years of AP classes. We were excited about his possibilities before today, but we're even more excited now.

August 20th also marks an interesting anniversary: Jon Met Cindy in 1994. Eight thousand, thirty six days ago. Or, is slightly harder to believe terms: twenty two years. A hot August night. Her last one before nursing school. My first one after finishing Spring Semester at the University of South Alabama. We quoted Shakespeare and had too many drinks and a nearly vulgar amount of kissing. And more than two decades later: here we are: sitting the classroom of our oldest kid, thinking it may be the future for our youngest kid.

Whoddathunk?