Wed 21 Dec 2011

NY Marathon 2011

Posted by Scott under Lucy, Marathon, Scott
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Best. Race. Ever.

The ING New York City Marathon, is at once my fastest (4:20:16), hardest, most painful, most anxiety-inducing, amazing, glorious, beautiful, energizing, draining, overwhelming, emotional marathon to date.

First, training for this race was like no other experience I have ever had. When I trained for my first marathon (San Diego in 2008) Lucy and I ran with a group in Chino, CA. That was an awesome experience, and it solidified for me that I could be a runner, and I could accomplish the distance with confidence. This season, however, brought so many new friends, and taught me how strong I could be, and that I will always have support in the running community.

Shout out here to RUNNYC and all the homies that have pushed and supported Lucy and I this Spring/Fall. We couldn’t have done it without you, and I am truly grateful for everything you have done for us!

On, then, to the marathon. Step-by-step, mile-by-mile. Hold on, folks. Marathons (and blogs about them) are long…

Getting to the Start:

Currently: 49ºF.

The day started early. Around 5am… Out of bed and making PB&J’s for the morning. One right away, and one (each) to take with us to the start line. I thought it best to treat this race like any other race, and since most of our races are out of town, we have everything laid out, and in bags the night before. We had already packed a bag to take to the start line the night before, so all we had to do was throw the sandwiches in and hit the road.

We layered up in thrift-store sweats and giveaway hats from the NYRR Scotland Run. These clothes would be ditched before the start of the race. (The marathon donates clothes discarded at the start to charity). We also had a plentiful supply of garbage bags to be used as weather insulation, seating, and anything else that could come up.

In the start-line race bag: Waist packs for both of us, disposable bottle of water, sandwiches, trash bags, 1/8 roll toilet paper.

So, then out of the apartment and to the #1 train down to South Ferry. We would be meeting our friend Lesley on the train, and Andrew and Elizabeth at the Ferry.

We met at the Ferry a little before 7:00am, and moved toward the door for the 7:15 Ferry. Having done the Staten Island half-marathon, this was a pretty familiar scene, and anyone who has done that race can accurately describe how it would feel. Quite crowded, and it is really incredible how many people that boat will hold. (I think it is somewhere around 3,500).

On the Island (Start Village):

Once on the Island (Staten, that is), we depart the Ferry for buses that will take us to the start line. I don’t know who mentioned that it “wasn’t very far” from the the terminal to the start line, but either our bus took the long way, or they are full of shit. Or both. Either way, I don’t know how long it took to travel the distance, but it was quite a long ride standing in a stuffy and crowded NJ Transit bus.

We arrived at the start area and went through several moderate levels of security making sure everyone had the proper bags and was wearing a bib. It is a short walk from the buses to the start village, which is organized by color. The race is broken up into three start waves, and within each start wave, there are three colors, which start on three different sides of the bridge. That’s how huge this race is.

We quickly found a spot and set up base camp before exploring our options for bathrooms and tried to locate bag-check for those that were checking bags (Lucy and I weren’t) and which way to head to the start. Once we sat down, we got word that some friends were hanging out in a tent that had breakfast, food, separate clean toilets. Warm, space, and chairs. What else could we possibly need? So we packed up our stuff and headed a short distance to meet our anonymous friend at the unnamed organization’s tent.

It was now around 9:00am. Runners in Wave #1 were heading to their start. We had a bit of time before we had to head out, so there was a few moments to relax before the race. So, naturally, I did not relax at all. Anxiety set in. I was antsy. And I wanted to start running. And it was warm in the tent, but a little chilly outside still. Or was it? I had better check. Yes, definitely warming up outside. I can go inside and relax. But I have to pee. So I should go out and use the toilet. Now I can relax. Wait, was it still chilly outside, or am I going to want arm warmers? Or gloves? I can’t decide. So this is how I passed about 30 minutes of time.

I remember hearing so many nightmare stories of the hours waiting for the start of the race… Cold, wet, crowded. To be honest, we experienced none of this. Perhaps we were lucky with timing, weather, etc. But I can honestly say that it was perfect. It was A LONG TIME, but we felt comfortable, and relaxed (even if we didn’t sit much, or rest). There was plenty of time to get our things in order, but I didn’t feel like we were there for TOO LONG. Next year, I would do everything exactly the same way.

On Our Way (Cattle Herding):

In short time, (let’s say around 9:20) we were on our way to the corrals. It was indeed warming up, and I ditched the layers and went for just a trash bag over the short-sleeve. We walked around and found the right direction to the Orange corrals, and moved into position. A bit of shoving and pushing, and we were in. This put us in the holding area for our wave/corral, which is quite a distance from where the actual start chute is. Not much room here to do much of anything, but some of us were able to find toilets and we got to hear the cannon go off for Wave #1. Once that happened, we started moving forward, as our wave was next up into the chute.

Finally, the line came to a stop, and we heard the announcer getting ready to announce the start. Let’s say the time was 10:00. We were in the sun, and it was now quite warm. For a moment I thought that I may be in trouble with the heat, and wished I had worn a singlet instead of a short sleeve. But I knew I would be fine, and the weather couldn’t get much hotter than it was. Lucy, on the other hand was wearing tights. TIGHTS! She had thought it was going to be rather chilly. In hindsight, she probably would have worn capris or something, but I decided not to really mention any of this. When you are in that situation, it’s best not to make a big deal of things, and just go with it. What else can you do?!

America the Beautiful was sung… and then BOOM! The starting cannon went off. HERE. WE. GO. Oh, Shit. This is actually happening! And out comes, “Theme from New York, New York.” Oh, Sinatra. You bring us to the brink of tears before the race even starts. Let’s Do It!

Miles 1 +2: SKYLINE

The first two miles of the race are almost entirely on the Varrazano-Narrows Bridge. For the Orange Wave, Mile 1 ticks off right around the middle of the bridge, and Mile 2 comes just as you are turning down what would be the On-Ramp for Staten Island-bound traffic.

The view is INCREDIBLE. I didn’t make a big deal about wanting to be on top of the bridge, but I have to say that I would do whatever it takes to make this happen in the future. It is totally worth it. Helicopters hovering overhead, and the Manhattan skyline to the left. It really was a perfect day for running. Clear skies, sunny, but not TOO hot. WOW. Just, wow. And we were barely getting started. I was quite thirsty, though, by the time we hit Mile 2. The first aid station, however, doesn’t come until Mile 3, so we had to soldier on for another few minutes. There is such a rush for the first couple of miles that it didn’t feel like we had run two miles at all. It was SO FAST. We did keep things under control. Right on target for a great warm-up at 9:30/mile pace. Now if we can just do this for 24 more miles…

Miles 3—7 (4th Ave.): ¡VIVA MEXICO!

The long 4th Ave. stretch of Brooklyn is the longest single stretch of the race. The people of this neighborhood, however, leave nothing to be desired in spirit. My favorites were the masses of people with huge Mexico flags, and tons of kids giving out High-Fives. I tried to stick to the center of the road, because there is a slant here, and slants always make my ankles hurt. Andrew, however, was not going to let an offer for a free High-Five go to waste. Lesley was the clear winner here in the getting-your-name-called-out contest. Shirt color? Can’t say for sure, but next year I am wearing yellow!

Guys were yelling, “WELCOME TO BROOKLYN!!!” and I thought, “This is New York!” It was a good stretch, and it was still hard to believe just how many people were running. Even crazier when you think that this is one of three waves. Wow.

Mile 8 (Lafayette Ave.): “NEW YORK!!!!!!!”

Mile 8 felt like the most raucous mile of the race. The street narrows in here, and all three colors of the Wave are merging together. The crowd was at least 3-deep in most places. Stoops became grandstands. It was LOUD. I let myself go a little bit. A little bit too much. High-fiving. Screaming, “NEW YORK!!” at large crowds. I knew better, but I didn’t care. I told myself, “you are going to regret that later, but will totally have been worth it,” and I still feel that way. Thanks, Clinton Hill.

Mile 9—12 (Bedford Ave.): The Many Faces of Brooklyn

Mile 9 begins the long stretch on the many iterations of Bedford Ave. Bedford starts quiet, with few spectators in the Hasidic neighborhoods. There were, however, a few enthusiastic fans here waiting for their friends presumably running in long skirts or pants.

As the race winds further north up the Ave., the crowd fills in with curious hipsters spilling out of El Beit and the various brunch spots. Hey, I could go for a mimosa right now… We soldier on toward the Pulaski, with crowds pretty thin until bridge hits, as we approach mile 13.

Mile 13—15 (L.I.C. Queens): The Elephant in the Room

LIC has a decent turnout, but is calm compared to the crowds in Clinton Hill and upper parts of Bedford Ave., but to be honest it’s a welcome break from scanning the crowds and acknowledging the cheers and shouts directed at you. There are quite a few people lined up on 44th Dr. going into Crescent, and they were loud, for sure. Could it be all the actors and dancers that have invaded East LIC and Astoria? Probably. I was looking for my friend Melissa somewhere here, but she didn’t say where she would be, so I wasn’t really looking all that hard. Where there are a hundred people on a block, one can only stand to look so hard for so long…

The short run in Queens is really just a buildup. A tease, really. Because we all know what is waiting for us at mile 15. You can see it from the Pulaski bridge… the dreaded Queensboro. And it was getting closer.

Mile 15—16: The Silent Killer

And so up we went. We had prepared for this. Long training runs often involved bridge repeats, so we knew what to expect. It was, nonetheless, a daunting task. My legs were not working as I would have liked them t0, and I was feeling the effects of having run another marathon just a month earlier. I never had any doubts that I would finish, but this was around the time I had thrown out the idea of running a negative split. We wouldn’t be picking up the pace in the last half. I would just be trying to hang on at this pace, if that was even possible.

The downhill section of the Queensboro is steep, and then gets even steeper as we hit what would be the on-ramp for Queens-bound traffic to the lower-level from 59th St. The stories are true. You can literally hear the 1st Ave. crowd from the bridge, even before you round the corner and hit the wall of sound from the crowd. It’s coming, but we can’t quite see it yet.

Mile 16—19.5 (First Ave.): This is Awesome… But long.

And then it hits you. Apparently you aren’t a true East-sider if you don’t cheer for the Marathon. From the bar-hoppers crawling out of Sutton Place, to the Yorkville crowd, it is packed. Mixed in to the Yorkville fray was the Nike Cheer zone. We almost completely missed them, which would have been a shame since they are great friends. Fortunately I spotted a sign, and a familiar face at just the right time. It was a huge boost to see Barbara, and Jen, and Val. We also got some pictures from Troy, who we didn’t see at the time, but I appreciate every single person that was there to support the runners.

From that point on, First Ave. droned. This is like New York’s Vuvuzuela. Incessant, draining more than inspiring, but amazing if only in scale. It is an ocean of people. The runners, the crowd. And this is what the NY Marathon is about. The city comes together. They enjoy the freak show. They admire, support, and endorse the freak show.

And then they are gone. It’s as if they sense that we are going to need some time alone for the next few miles. Maybe they think they’d better let us work some stuff out and do some soul searching before we come back to Manhattan.

Mile 19.5—21: Da Bronx, Son.

The Willis Ave. bridge is best described as insult to injury. And this is the time when my quads were starting to twitch. It was the first threats of cramping. I had been battling some abdominal cramps since the beginning of the race. Judicious nutrition had kept my muscles at bay, but there was a delicate balancing act going on for much of the race. I was hanging by a thread, really.

I felt that I might be in trouble, and I knew that I needed to get some fuel as soon as possible. With no water stop in sight and only gels at my disposal, I decided to take a risk. I started taking little squeezes of gel while hoping that a water stop would come up soon. I figured the risk of getting an upset stomach from the undiluted gel was probably less than my quads seizing up from lack of sugar. My gamble paid off, and there was a water stop close by.

It’s not long before the Bronx becomes a distant memory and we are homeward bound at last back into Manhattan. For the first time in the day. This came as a small relief. For the first time all day we were actually headed mostly toward the finish.


Mile 21—23.75 (5th Ave.): Are We There Yet?

There was a distant idea, long discarded, that this would be the marathon for me to go sub 4. That obviously wasn’t going to happen. But despite all the aches, and the twitching quads in the Bronx, things were working well. Or about as well as I would expect them to work after running for going-on twenty-one miles. If I’m honest, at this point I just really wanted to stop running. Not like, I want to quit stop… Just, I want to be done with this thing stop. I knew we were over the hill. We had reached the point at which I say to myself, “Well, you’ve come this far… you might as well just finish.” It’s not so much determination as it is fortunate quitting. I’ll set a goal to stop running immediately, and then I give up on that goal and just keep going. This way I can have my cake and eat it too. I get to quit at something, and I’ll keep running and finish the race.

We all longed for the comfort of Central Park. Meanwhile I thought I had developed a blister on my small toe. I NEVER get blisters, so this was extremely frustrating. I thought, “this doesn’t happen to me! This isn’t my issue!” I dare not take my shoe off, because I feared the worst… Around that time, we were rescued by a running friend who offered us some glucose tablets. Lucy grabbed a few and implored that I take one. By this time, I didn’t want anything. I just wanted to be done, and I was quite cranky. “I don’t want that shit,” I snapped. Lucy barked back at me, “GET IT TOGETHER, SCOTT!” Well, that was exactly what I needed. I did need to get it together. I needed to embrace the pain for a few more minutes. I started sucking on the tablet, and put my head down. One last push to the finish.

Soon, we came up on Paul, who was shouting out to me from the sideline. Turbo boost! His cheers propelled us into the park, I knew we had made it. This was it. I had better enjoy this last bit of the best race of my life.

Mile 23.75—26 (Central Park): PR or Bust.

I have to admit, that while the park was a relief, and I was happy to be surrounded by spectators and trees the only thing that kept me going at this point was one simple fact: If I kept running, I would PR quite comfortably. I couldn’t just let an opportunity like that pass my by. Were it not for that, I think I would have walked it in. This was really the hardest race I had ever done. It felt harder than the 60k I did a year ago.

The crowds were deep in the park, and it was incredible how loud and encouraging they were. It was seriously overwhelming. I am used to running in the park in the early evening, or on Saturday morning, so this was quite the contrast. We kept saying to each other, “this is crazy!!!” And it was. I didn’t really expect Central Park to be this packed. This insane and energetic crowd propelled us down to 59th St. A final energy boost was provided by our friend Taegin as we rounded Grand Army Plaza and into the thick of the chute heading across town toward Columbus Circle. And that was it.

Lucy attempted one final surge, and I begged her to stop. All I could manage was, “Please…… Please….. Please Don’t.” I just needed her to hold off for another 1/4 of  a mile, and then I could hold on. But not quite yet!

Mile 26—26.2: I LOVE THIS CITY.

That was all I could think as we turned into Central Park for the second time and headed up West Drive. I LOVE THIS CITY. The flags of all the countries, the crowds, and the biggest finish line I have ever seen. It was incredible. We finished the race holding hands, arms up.

Lucy and I hugged, and I said, “This was amazing. I love it here. This is New York.” We hobbled forward to receive our medals.

The line to get out of the park was lengthy, and it takes a while to weave out from the finish line to the streets. This was definitely hard, and all I wanted to do was sit down! When we were finally out of the park, I sat by a UPS truck. “FINALLY!” I exclaimed. I only sat for a minute, but it was all I needed. Rest taken, we dragged to our apartment and ordered food… We had to refuel. After all, we have a 60k in two weeks!

 

 

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Sat 1 Jan 2011

Happy New Year!!!

Posted by Scott under Uncategorized
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Everyone,

What a year it has been!  2010 has been filled with so many blessings.  We want to say thank you, because we count each one of you as one of these blessings, and 2010 would not have been the same without you!

This year, we celebrated a year of marriage.  We also had the honor of baptizing our niece and goddaughter Paloma Mariella Suchsland.

As we take a moment to reflect on all the wonderful events of 2010, we wish you and yours all the best for 2011!  Here’s to the next twelve months, and making the most of every moment.

Love,
Scott + Lucy

Mohonk, NY

San Francisco Marathon

San Francisco Marathon

Knickerbocker 60K, NYC.

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Tue 4 May 2010

New Jersey Marathon

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The 2010 New Jersey Marathon can be described in one simple word, “Brutal.”

The forecast for the morning was cloudy with a chance of rain. I even contemplated wearing a vest on race morning… That would have been perhaps the biggest mistake in a day filled with small miscalculations and uncontrollable turns of events.

Firstly, I have to thank a runner whom we had never met before Saturday. Due to some rather misguided planning on my part, our hotel was far out of walking distance from the start line, though I had (up until Saturday) believed it to be much closer. So, I called the hotel to see if there was a shuttle, or something that could get us to the train station, which was very close to the start line. Just as I called, another runner was checking-in. Overhearing the conversation the desk attendant was having with me, he offered to give Lucy and I a ride to the start line.

So then, we were off at 6:30am for the race’s extremely late 9:00am… a start time that I seriously hope the directors will reconsider for next year. With temperatures in the high 80′s on the beach at 9:00am, it’s no wonder that over 30 people had to be treated for het exhaustion along the race course.

We started off the race with an aggressive, but easily attainable (based on recent half-marathon and training times) goal of 4:15. In the first mile, we tucked into the 4:15 pace group and settled down through mile 5 or 6. Finally around mile 6 traffic was getting much better, and the group was really running easy. At the same time, we were running farther from the beach, and with pretty much no breeze. Since the sun was high in the sky by this time, there was almost NO shade except for at the very edges of the street. I don’t know what the actual Mercury was, but I can tell you that it was very hot. High 80′s for sure. Maybe low 90′s.

Around mile 9 we found some porta potties that were completely free, and off the path a bit. We decided that if we didn’t use those, we would probably never find any without a line, so we stopped and fell off the back of the 4:15 group. We were okay with that, and thought we would either make up the time or finish somewhere in-between 4:15 and 4:20. We resumed a good pace, and kept at it through the halfway point. Our Half-Marathon split was 2:14, and our 15 mile split was 2:34, so we were still on-track to be around 4:30. Somewhere between mile 16 and 18, however, we drastically changed our race plan. I realize that saying, “somewhere between mile 16 and 18,” is not extremely accurate, however, it should also give you some idea of how that day was going. Though there were markers at every mile, my recollection of the latter half of the race is fuzzy at best. Heat exhaustion tends to do that…

We picked up one of the stragglers from the 4:15 group, a Belgian guy around mile 13.5, and he quickly fell behind. Needless to say, he was not doing well. We had also seen another member of the 4:15 group who was talking to his family just after the half-marathon point. His name was Dave. Dave caught-up to us somewhere around mile 14, and ran with us for a couple of miles. We walked with him through the water stop at mile 16, or so and we got the hint that he was trying to drop behind…. he was not looking so great, so we kept shuffling along without him.

For some reason, I am always able to keep count of the number of runners I have seen “down” throughout the race. At this point, I had seen no fewer than 13 down and, as I said before, we would later find out that over 30 were treated for heat exhaustion. By mile 18, we knew we were simply not capable of safely reaching any of our time goals for the day. So, slightly disheartened by the inevitable, we plodded onward, and started taking walk breaks at the water stations. Before long, however, we would only be able to run in 5 minute stretches without overheating. Just after the halfway point, we were pretty much taking in any hydration we could find, as well as utilizing as much ice as we could get our hands on. We ran with baggies of ice we were able to commandeer from First Aid, and cups of ice we got from a few water stops, and pilfered from frond-yard coolers. Whenever we could, we replenished our ice supplies so that we always had something to cool down our water, and drip over our heads. (though the latter did little good)

For the final 6 miles of the race, we were really hoping to find some reprieve from the sun, and feel the sea breeze we knew we would find at mile 25. That was a long ways away, however. Even with that glorious promise, and the promise of simply being DONE, we could simply not run for very long without getting severely overheated. It went like that for a long while run for as long as we could stand, and walk for about as long. Douse w/ice water, repeat. This was extremely frustrating because the fact of the matter is that we were not out of fuel. Our legs were not tired. Our minds were strong. But our bodies simply couldn’t deal with the heat.

Around mile 24.5 the final water stop, Lucy ran into Beverly, a friend from NikeRunning who was coaching some of her runners. Lucy was unable to speak really, being so overcome with the emotion of being so helpless against the heat, yet having so much left in terms of legs and fuel. At this point, we knew we were done… we would finish. It would not be what we had hoped and trained for, but it would be a victory, and the suffering would soon come to an end.

The sea breeze we had hoped for at mile 25 did not materialized. The cool air had all but faded, which also doused our hopes of trotting home the last mile to just get the dang thing over with. We had the finish line in sight, and we still had to take a walk break, lacking any wind to help cool our ailing bodies.

When it was all said and done, we finished with a chip time of 4:59:50. This IS a PR for me, since I ran SanDiego a few years ago in 5:06.

Post-race, there was also no shade, and very little provisions to be had. We took shelter in a random cool-spot we found before going to the race hotel to get our stuff from bag check. We still had about a mile to walk to the train station to get back to Manhattan, so we rested for a minute, and hiked it out, now more weighed down than before toward the train.

Two days later, we both feel mostly normal. Legs are almost completely fine… Lucy suffered some fairly severe heat exhaustion/dehydration. I was fairly dehydrated, and am just now starting to feel like my fluids/electrolytes are in-line.

Next race? San Francisco 26.2 in July! We runners really are gluttons for punishment….

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Mon 7 Dec 2009

Marathon Training, GO!

Posted by Scott under Lucy, Marathon, Scott
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Today marks Week 1 of the official marathon training program! It’s been more than a year since we have run a full marathon, and I this is going to be the year for the follow up.

We have our plan in order, and the training schedule is starting to fall into place! Thanks to my wonderfully sporadic work schedule, it is a bit complicated to plan more than a couple of weeks in advance, but I am taking it one day at a time.

I will post some details from the plan as soon as I get a chance, and hope to have details on more musings on life as a running lighting tech, and some other exciting plans as well!

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Tue 25 Aug 2009

Embrace the Awesome

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I sometimes ask myself…  When people get up in the morning, do they look in a mirror?  I mean, sure.  We ALL look in the mirror.  Even I take a quick glance.  Hair: Mussed/Toussled—Check.  Eyes: Free of gunk—Check. Mouth Area: Lack of Toothpaste residue—Check.  But there are people who clearly need to use a much bigger mirror.  A full length one.  For instance, some people should clearly be asking more important questions of the mirror, like: “Can you see through my skirt?” Lengthy Aside: I am a man, but some of you may be surprised to learn that I am actually a little saddened that the slip (or at the very least the half-slip) has become somewhat a thing of the past. It’s as if modesty is now as passé as Myspace.  Interestingly enough, there is an inverse relationship between the necessity for a slip and the likelihood that one will be employed.  Whispy, white translucent-thing?  Well, of course, the obvious choice is a simple black thong. Back to the important question: “Am I going to constantly be pulling up my pants?” “Can you see my thong through these pants?” “Do I look like a total douche from New Jersey?” “Do these white socks compliment my patent leather loafers?”

These are all important questions.  Questions which should be answered before leaving the house in the morning.  However, since this is a very difficult task to accomplish (I know… It’s EARLY!)  I will help by providing the answers myself.

So although all these things are awesome in their own way, you should not:

Wear sunglasses in the Airport Terminal.

Sit down in-between a conversation in-progress.

Tuck your shirt into your high-rise thong.

Board the plane when the plane is boarding rows 20-25, and you are seated in row 8 so you can be sure to claim a spot for your Luis Vuitton carry-on bag. Which is too big for the overhead compartment.

Wear sunglasses on the plane.

Get on the flight to Long Beach when you are flying to Burbank.  This is what the mirror’s answer would be to the question: “Should I be allowed out of the house by myself, without my helmet?”

Wear pajamas to the airport.

Wear pajamas and a trucker hat, ever.

Watch a DVD while you are on the Security Checkpoint line.

Occupy three rows of the plane during boarding so you can get all of your stuff ready for the flight.

Pack bags that are clearly too large for the overhead bin.

Wear anything made of something resembling crushed velvet.

Place a Luis Vuitton purse(s?) inside of (a?) Prada Handbag(s?).  Creating sort of an expensive bag Nesting-Doll scenario.  Actualy, I think there’s another purse inside of the Prada bag too… maybe the guy in Times Square accidentally gave her an extra.  Okay, update.  There is another Prada bag within the Luis Vuitton purse.  There may be another bag within that one.  For now, I can only guess… But I am sure that the tertiary bag would feel lonely without another equally unnecessary bag within its ample, emblazoned lining.

Shoes which appear to be made of cork.

Scurrying up the aisle to retrieve your entire carry-on bag.  With what I would describe as Hobbit feet.  Please, sir… at least wear socks.

I hope that all of us can learn an important lesson, here.  I would also like to note that if the lady with the purses shifts position one more time in the next thirty seconds I swear upon all that is precious in this world I am going to scream, “PLEASE.  We are not looking at your butt crack.  BUT, you must know by now that we all know what you are doing. You’re not fooling anyone.”  But that’s exactly what you think you are doing, isn’t it?  Fooling us.  Fooling us into thinking that you are more glamorous than you actually are. Fooling us with the excessive purses, and the eye makeup at 7am, and your carefully “curated” nonchalance.  Listen… I know where you get it from.  You get if from that weekly magazine you are reading.  All the stars do it.  It’s the track-suit look… the “suede”.  And, while I understand that you think it’s cool, let’s get something straight here.  Jennifer Aniston can go out looking like this.  Why?  Because we’ve seen her in a lot of movies and it is generally established that she is “attractive.”  She is a professional “attractive” person.  It’s what she does for a living.  So, I guess it’s fair that she should be granted a day off and allowed the luxury of a dumpy “suede” track suit.   You, on the other hand, miss in 20C (now she’s sleeping in the empty row, so it’s Miss in 20A-C), are going to have to try a bit harder.

That is all.

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Mon 20 Jul 2009

LIVE while you can

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Since I will be pinned here in New York for my grandfather’s funeral, I was asked to write some words to be read.  This is what came to me.

:::

“Work harder,” he would say.  “You’ve got to let everyone see how hard you are working.  Never let anyone see you sitting down or wasting time… keep it up.”

For some strange reason these are the enduring words of my Grandfather.  Maybe it’s because of the timeless wisdom, the straightforward, tough-love encouragement.  Or maybe it’s because when he told me this I was ten years old.  Digging trenches to put a sprinkler system in somebody’s front yard.  In the summer.  Ten years old.

Some of you may know him as Shig, John, maybe even Juan.  But to me, he was “Gichan.”  Gichan wouldn’t want me to make this sappy, or dreary, and if my father has shown me anything by example, he certainly wouldn’t have wanted it to be lengthy.  Tears and sad words are outright.

Allow me then to speak for a minute about what Gichan taught me.  He taught me many lessons, though like all good lessons, I would have no idea at the time what he was talking about.  Only recently have I been able to realize what he was telling me, or rather the example that he set for me.

I’ll never know exactly what happened up at the base of Mt. Whitney over sixty years ago.  I was never able to truly gain a vivid picture of what life was like there, of what they went through, or what was going through his mind those years.  The stories I heard were mostly of the years after the camps… of the successes and struggles of making a new life, and climbing back to the top. Starting from scratch.

Perhaps because of this, Gichan was and always had been a hard worker.  I don’t think that he was ever trained in anything he did, yet he was a welder, a carpenter, a plumber, a painter, a mechanic, a gardener, and a proficient master of the ancient Japanese art of KA-RA-O-KE.  The latter, perhaps we could have done without, though the karaoke machines and video cameras did have an important place in my formative years as a wee-young-sound technician.   What I am trying to say is that my Grandfather taught me how to hustle.  If anyone ever asked him, “Do you know how to…” the answer was always a reassuring, “YES.”  He would figure out how to ACTUALLY do it as he went.

Whether I was mowing a lawn, sweeping, or operating a leaf blower (again, I was probably much too young to be doing any of these things…) he made sure I was always working hard.  Back then I didn’t really care… I just wanted to make him happy.  But today, I know that he was teaching me to be proud of myself.  To take pride in what I do.  He was teaching me that life is more than just a set of tasks.  Life is NOT a bitch.  Or maybe for some it is, because LIFE IS WHAT WE MAKE OF IT.  That is what Gichan would have wanted you to hear today.  YOU ARE NOT A PASSENGER.  It is not enough to stop and smell the roses.  Turn the earth, plant a seed, water it, watch it grow, and THEN, when you have done the work, you can of your labor.  THAT is what he taught me.

“Scotty the great,” he would call me.  As if I was some kind of child-superhero.  “Boy, you’re the greatest…” he would tell me.  I didn’t believe him at the time… but I know what he was trying to tell me.  He was telling me this:

Never TRY to be your best.  He would never have said that.  BE the best. And if you believe that you are the greatest, and that you are all you can be, then you are.  Period.

Gichan…. thank you.

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Sat 23 May 2009

Good Eats

Posted by Scott under Uncategorized
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Lucy and I are really excited. One of the things we have wanted to do ever since we got to New York is join a CSA.

For those of you that don’t know, a CSA is Community Supported Agriculture. Basically, for a nominal fee we get a share of whatever the farm harvests each week.

Anyway, this is pretty cool, and I plan on putting up another post when we get our first load of food in a couple weeks!

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Sun 15 Feb 2009

WTFs, We’re ENGAGED, P.S. Facebook Photo app. is making me mad.

Posted by Scott under Lucy, Marriage, Scott
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So, I would like to take this opportunity to let everyone on the internets’s tubes know that Lucy and I are officially engaged.  Since Facebook has decided that pictures aren’t really worth much, let alone a thousand words, I am posting pictures of the ring here.

Isometric View

Isometric View

Top View

Top View

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Sun 18 Jan 2009

We’re Back (sort-of)

Posted by Scott under Uncategorized
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Well….

After a long hiatus of not writing any blogs, I think that it’s safe to say that I may actually be able to get back to doing some with some regularity. There are lots of things to share, and a TON of pictures.

Also, for those of you that were concerned, I was able to fix the hacked page with relative ease, and it appears that everything is back to normal.

Thanks for looking, and I’ll be back with updates soon!

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Mon 14 Jul 2008

Tinman, er, Tinpeople

Posted by Scott under Triathlon
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The San Bernardino Tinman Triathlon is one of those races that all So-Cal triathletes talk about.
If you aren’t doing it, you know someone that’s doing it or you know someone that knows someone
that’s doing it, or whatever. This was a great follow-up to the UCI triathlon for Lucy, and
a nice relaxing race for me. An added bonus would be helping Lucy’s sister Paola through
her FIRST triathlon. It was definitely the perfect distance for a first triathlon. As with the
UCI race this was a reverse order race starting with a 5k run (though I am told by GPS-toting friends that it was more like 5.1k, 12 mile bike, and a short 100yard swim.

In any case, we finally arrived at the race site which was a bit of a drive from home. It had already started to get quite warm, and was sure to be a very hot race.
We gathered for a quick picture. You will notice that in this picture I am wearing swim jammers beneath the tri-shorts which was intended to prevent my tri shorts from getting
into the chlorine water. However, it was so hot, that I decided any extra clothes would
be a bad idea.

Lucy was very excited that she got her sister to do the race with her, and Paola looks pretty excited too.

This is a rare picture of me working on my own bike, even though it’s just inflating a tire.
Those of you that are regular viewers of the pictures may be more accustomed to seeing me
try to Mickey-Mouse some kind of elaborate mish-mash of parts onto a mountain bike… this is rare.

Paola was lucky to have Brian at the race to provide moral support and (sort-of) take pictures.
Though, when I found him, he was doing more “seeking shelter” than taking pictures.

The girls forced me to participate in their who can look stupidest in a pose contest. The good/bad news is that I think I won.

Brian did manage to get a good picture of Paola running off the start. I think at this
point, she was behind Lucy and I, but we waited for her around mile 1 and ran her in the
rest of the way. By that time, temps were approaching the 100′s, and we were happy to be
ready for the bike.

Now, here’s the part that there aren’t many pictures for.

After the run, things started to fall apart for us, and the entire rest of the field, actually.
I dumped some of our extra water (I always have a spare bottle in the transition) over my
head to cool off. It was seriously hot at this point, and I wish we had just come out
of the water so that we’d get a nice cooling effect on the bike. No such luck, however.
In any case, the water felt good, and kept me cool long enough for me to get enough sweat to
make up the difference. At this point, we had agreed to go our own pace, and I wanted to really push things on the bike.
Especially since I knew that I didn’t really have to save anything for only a 100yd. swim.

The girls set off at their own steady pace. I can’t really say what kind of pace they were
doing, but Lucy says that she was keeping things pretty fast. After a wind through the
parking area, and couple of miles we hit THE. HILL. This was, however, no ordinary hill.
It’s not the kind of hill that goes straight up, or really crests… just the kind that grinds out for a couple of miles and makes you wish you were dead.
The number I heard was 8% grade… I’m not really sure if that’s true. If it is, well, then
this would be considered a Cat. 1 climb. Whether Cat. 1 or 2, it was definitely tough and took
its share of victims. I passed one rider who was passed out and being helped by another
racer. I thought to stop and help, but there was really nothing that I could have done.
One advantage of doing the run slower is that I got to pass a lot of MTBers and weaker climbers.
Eventually I caught a pretty decent climber, and we talked a bit and worked together to get up the hill.
At the top of the hill there was a single man with a few cups of water. Luckily I brought
a bottle with me, and didn’t have to stop for that. It was pretty pathetic, actually, and I
feel bad for anyone who would have been relying on this support.

Of course, what goes up must come down, and descending is my favorite part of hills. None
of us really appreciated this climb until we realized how long and steep the descent was.
I have a simple math equation for you… 53×11. And it feels glorious. On the way down, I saw Paola heading up the hill. I now know that Lucy was somewhere near her, but I didn’t see her. Shortly after, I had to slow down to avoid the fire truck coming up the hill to help the wounded.

After the truck passed, I came across a very pesky man with a flat-bar roadie. This man had
determined that he was definitely faster than anything else on the road, and he was ready to
prove it. By this time, I had gotten back up to an nice downhill speed around 35mph, and thought it would be safe to pass him.
As I started to pass, he randomly decided to challenge. Simultaneously, we hit a hill.
Now, I don’t mind climbing, but I wouldn’t consider myself a particularly strong climber…
So, this was trouble. Seeing as he wasn’t in my AG, and I wasn’t anywhere close to being in
in contention for overall place, it didn’t really matter… But that doesn’t mean that I was
going to let this “flatbar” beat me. So, out of the saddle we came. We hit the top of the
hill pretty much together, but I was able to push over the top, and dropped him shortly
after. At this point, we hit the parking lot section again and had to weave around speed
bumps, and curbs and such. I thought I had seen the last of this guy, as I started to pass
some more riders in the insanity of the parking lot. It was definitely fun/annoying slipping
over curbs, and around all kinds of obstacles. I felt like I was in a messenger race.

Just as I was coming out of the parking lot, this guy came up and passed me on the right.
Now, I can take being passed, but not on the right! Right after his pass was a sweeping
left out of the parking lot. Now, if you know anything about bikes, you may know that Speedplay
likes to talk about how their pedals offer superior cornering performance. I thought to
test that out, as I noticed that he had regular BMX-style pedals. Consequently, he took the
corner quite wide. I was able to pedal through the corner and make a nice exit all on the
inside of him, and I finally dropped him once and for all.

There were a few rollers on the last section of the course, but nothing that really caused me to shift down too low.
I had some problems with cramping of my calves, and hamstrings. I’m pretty sure it’s
because I was only drinking water, and not enough. It was a very hot day, and I thought
that one bottle would be adequate. It wasn’t. I was riding past a nice older lady, and she
spun up a little bit… seemed like she wanted someone to talk to, so I slowed a bit, and
chatted with her about the miserable climb early in the ride, and how it had set us up
for a very tired last half. We also talked about how good the pool was going to feel in a
couple of miles. THE POOL!!! I had almost forgotten. With that, I said goodbye, and really
hammered it home, looking forward to that swim.

I got into T2 without incident, and even did a flying dismount, which I have been working on
for a while. (Though Lucy loves to give me crap about it.) I paused for a minute in T2, to
make sure that the cramping had calmed down before I jumped into the pool, since I knew
that wouldn’t really be much help to avoid the cramping. As I was running up to the pool, I
ran into my buddy Jason Lomheim. He was nice enough to cheer me on. With that, I jumped
in, and went for a nice relaxing swim. It really wasn’t long enough, and I wish I could
have stayed in the water longer. When I got out, I found Brian, and took the camera from
him.

Camera in-hand, I was now the official photographer. I managed to get a few pictures of Lucy riding in, but they weren’t very good.
The better pictures were of Lucy getting back into T2. Her story seemed to be pretty
similar to mine with respect to the monster-hill.

With that, she was off to the pool, and I was back to the course to try and get a picture of
Paola coming in on the bike. I got back to the Transition entrance just in time, and got
a nice picture…

After the race, I met up with Jason again, and he told me that he had won second place overall. That’s pretty amazing! Overall, it was a great race, and we definitely had fun.
All that was left was to pack the car, and be on our merry way.

Next up is the Camp Pendleton Sprint and our Century ride to San Diego!

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