tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-199441412024-03-14T10:28:25.111-07:00The Can Opener Boy Translations<br>welcome to the weird little world<br><br>inside my head, heart, and day-to-day lifeCan Opener Boyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06074132164038079006noreply@blogger.comBlogger252125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19944141.post-71618909205860099422016-12-25T11:44:00.005-08:002016-12-25T11:46:02.226-08:00I'm So Glad You Are Home<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin5HXIJKaCUeSoXpCNSQZKVRl1m9aXOEQU6G0N2_IlNPmxWJVufjc8fLDoG_3Yt1jKXUNTrVDB79bTOaKHEx21_JXWiNv0OdYpFmkeOQJxqS2XBSVKeLSB0_FqTbZW1bhrAKTH/s1600/Shooting20star.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="235" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin5HXIJKaCUeSoXpCNSQZKVRl1m9aXOEQU6G0N2_IlNPmxWJVufjc8fLDoG_3Yt1jKXUNTrVDB79bTOaKHEx21_JXWiNv0OdYpFmkeOQJxqS2XBSVKeLSB0_FqTbZW1bhrAKTH/s320/Shooting20star.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: -webkit-center;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: -webkit-center;">A PRAYER TO THE GOD WHO FELL FROM HEAVEN</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: -webkit-center;">~ By John Shea</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: -webkit-center;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: -webkit-center;">If you had stayed</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: -webkit-center;">tightfisted in the sky</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: -webkit-center;">and watched us thrash</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: -webkit-center;">with all the patience of a pipe smoker,</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: -webkit-center;">I would pray like a golden bullet</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: -webkit-center;">aimed at your heart.</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: -webkit-center;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: -webkit-center;">But the story says you cried</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: -webkit-center;">and so heavy was the tear</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: -webkit-center;">you fell with it to earth</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: -webkit-center;">where like a baritone in a bar</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: -webkit-center;">it is never time to go home.</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: -webkit-center;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: -webkit-center;">So you move among us</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: -webkit-center;">twisting every straight line into Picasso,</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: -webkit-center;">stealing kisses from pinched lips,</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: -webkit-center;">holding our hand in the dark.</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: -webkit-center;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: -webkit-center;">So now when I pray</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: -webkit-center;">I sit and turn my mind like a television knob</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: -webkit-center;">till you are there with your large, open hands</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: -webkit-center;">spreading my life before me</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: -webkit-center;">like a Sunday tablecloth</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: -webkit-center;">and pulling up a chair for yourself</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: -webkit-center;">for by now</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: -webkit-center;">the secret is out.</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: -webkit-center;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: -webkit-center;">You are home.</span>Can Opener Boyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06074132164038079006noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19944141.post-49017496862161427842015-12-26T14:40:00.000-08:002015-12-26T14:40:00.164-08:00What I Think About When I RunToday <a href="https://connect.garmin.com/modern/activity/992986254" target="_blank">I ran 19 miles</a>. It took me a little under four hours of time all by myself.<br /><br />Some people have asked me "What do you <i>think</i> about when you are out running for hours at a time?"<br />
<br />
Sometimes I listen to music, a podcast, or an audiobook. But other times I focus on becoming aware of my self -- I am practicing being 'self-conscious' in a good way. It is another angle on my perspective of '<a href="http://canopenerboy.blogspot.com/2009/10/running-into-myself.html" target="_blank">running into my self</a>'. In those times, I just let myself think whatever comes into my head, and play around with those thoughts.<br />
<br />
Sometimes the thoughts are 'good' (read: creative and hopeful and positive) and I dwell there and see where they take me. I get energized and excited and uplifted by these trains of thought.<br />
<br />
Other times the thoughts are 'bad' (read: destructive, defeatist/fatalistic, and negative/hurtful)...and like with 'good thoughts' I also dwell <b><i>there</i></b>, and see where they take me. I <i>allow</i> myself to dwell there for awhile in the hopes that I'll get to the root of those fears or angers, etc -- and by allowing myself to 'go there' I'll let those things <i>out</i> of me instead of keeping them bottled up inside me like I have done for so much of my life before now.<br />
<br />
And sometimes after a train of thought (good or bad) finishes, I just. Stop. Thinking. For awhile. I like it when that happens too. My mind gets to rest so infrequently that I treasure it when it happens.<br />
<br />
And recently, in that place of solitude and openness, I have begun to contemplate. Not just in the sense of turning an idea over in my head and looking at it from a variety of directions, but I mean 'contemplate' in a more spiritual sense.<br />
<br />
Dr. Warren A. Kay, in his book "Running -- The Sacred Art" says<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"Contemplation is the activity of self-consciously living in the presence of God."</blockquote>
And in "New Seeds of Contemplation", Thomas Merton says<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"Contemplation...is spontaneous awe at the sacredness of life, of being. It is gratitude for life, for awareness, and for being. It is a vivid realization of the fact that life and being in us proceed from an invisible and transcendent, and infinitely abundant Source. Contemplation is, above all, awareness of the reality of that Source. It knows the Source, obscurely, inexplicably, but with a certitude that goes both beyond reason and beyond simple faith."</blockquote>
When I am running contemplatively, I am learning to see things I might not otherwise see -- in nature, in others, and even in myself.<br /><br />Today I saw an outcropping on a tree which <span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 17.5636px;">seemed to point to the sun</span><span class="_58cm" style="background-color: white; color: #3b5998; cursor: pointer; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 17.5636px; text-decoration: none;"></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 17.5636px;"> so I paused to express my own reverence.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3KNZRMJPYMpxuoga_exJxPxEYgzc-jUOOZWNM9fDVIs6MO3KqYqhSx5ShelL6hpch18EIBwPH09UZYFughoAXnTRmFPX9lvVJNnMvfyaocE_p8zJH0D5HP5ne-cqhbfEI5NTbrg/s1600/10669269_10153900006202009_7172058683513882614_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3KNZRMJPYMpxuoga_exJxPxEYgzc-jUOOZWNM9fDVIs6MO3KqYqhSx5ShelL6hpch18EIBwPH09UZYFughoAXnTRmFPX9lvVJNnMvfyaocE_p8zJH0D5HP5ne-cqhbfEI5NTbrg/s400/10669269_10153900006202009_7172058683513882614_o.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 17.5636px;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 17.5636px;">I reflected that even in the midst of the </span><span aria-label="hashtag" class="_58cl" style="color: #627aad;"></span><span class="_58cm">fog</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 17.5636px;">, there is still a right </span><span aria-label="hashtag" class="_58cl" style="color: #627aad;"></span><span class="_58cm">direction</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 17.5636px;"> to head; a way forward even if the future is unclear. I just need to keep looking for the </span><span aria-label="hashtag" class="_58cl" style="color: #627aad;"></span><span class="_58cm">signs</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 17.5636px;">.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 17.5636px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 17.5636px;">And later after I got home and reviewed my run I realized that outcropping in silhouette also looks like Rocky Balboa at the end of his epic run -- also very inspirational!</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3JCnBFcwN6YKgXICv9Llu0EMl9PRrHkvUyN4uauHEM87qMBRl4z2Zw8sqmQfQQTjl834LvQvev8LJI9zpzmpkXLy5W2ptALYIuB8l5_ux5Ta8LvKTFOEJluRWtZiFmdNXy4eOCA/s1600/RockyBalboajpg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3JCnBFcwN6YKgXICv9Llu0EMl9PRrHkvUyN4uauHEM87qMBRl4z2Zw8sqmQfQQTjl834LvQvev8LJI9zpzmpkXLy5W2ptALYIuB8l5_ux5Ta8LvKTFOEJluRWtZiFmdNXy4eOCA/s320/RockyBalboajpg.jpg" width="286" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
~ KeithCan Opener Boyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06074132164038079006noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19944141.post-78173712424307297032015-09-12T17:51:00.000-07:002015-09-12T20:56:35.718-07:00Loving the Me I Used to Hate<div class="_209g _2vxa" data-block="true" data-offset-key="dum2b-0-0" data-reactid=".dz.1.$composer.0.0.0.0.0.$editor0.0.0.$dum2b" style="background-color: white; color: #141823; direction: ltr; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; position: relative; white-space: pre-wrap;">
<span data-offset-key="dum2b-0-0" data-reactid=".dz.1.$composer.0.0.0.0.0.$editor0.0.0.$dum2b.0:$dum2b-0-0"><a href="http://www.hlntv.com/video/2015/09/09/self-acceptance-self-love-bikini-public" target="_blank">This is a link to a very powerful video about body image and self acceptance</a></span></div>
<div class="_209g _2vxa" data-block="true" data-offset-key="dum2b-0-0" data-reactid=".dz.1.$composer.0.0.0.0.0.$editor0.0.0.$dum2b" style="background-color: white; color: #141823; direction: ltr; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; position: relative; white-space: pre-wrap;">
For those (probably very very few of you) who have never struggled with body image, please watch this video and learn what it is like to feel fearful, shameful, and even unlovable in your own skin.</div>
<div class="_209g _2vxa" data-block="true" data-offset-key="dum2b-0-0" data-reactid=".dz.1.$composer.0.0.0.0.0.$editor0.0.0.$dum2b" style="background-color: white; color: #141823; direction: ltr; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; position: relative; white-space: pre-wrap;">
And for those of you who DO struggle with body image; especially those who may read my (seemingly constant) posts about running and fitness and perhaps get discouraged -- please watch this video and if you shed some tears know I shed some too when I watched it. And know you are not alone.<br />
I have struggled with self-acceptance and body image for most of my life. It is only in the past 7 years that I have learned to be OK in my own body...and it is NOT because I am thin and run a lot. I don't love my body because I am a runner. I am a runner because I love my body. And it has taken me a lifetime to appreciate the important difference between those two perspectives.<br />
When I was in grade school, I was called 'skinny' and it was a negative term. People (family and friends and classmates alike) laughed because my belts were always so long the end of them wrapped around to my back belt loops. They laughed in the locker room and swim class because you could see my ribs and my knees were bony.<br />
The summer between 6th and 7th grade I went to a football camp and learned how to workout and eat. But I really wasn't very good at it, so I only played (read: sat on the bench a lot and watched the acceptable people play) my 7th grade season. In 8th grade I ran cross country and at every. single. race. I was either last place or 2nd to last. Running was not fun, but I was trying to be acceptable; trying to make my body do what others' bodies could do. But I couldn't. So that was my last active sports season. I stopped working out. But I still remembered how to eat.<br />
By late 8th grade I was no longer the skinny kid. I was the chubby kid; the fat kid that the Jocks and the Socs and the Hoods laughed at (and bullied) in the locker room and at school assemblies, etc. And I stayed that way all through high school. Aged 17, at 5'9" I graduated high school at just under 200#. By that time I had learned deeply the lesson that I was fat, and laughable, and my body was not OK.<br />
In the Navy, in my 8 weeks of basic training, I lost 35# and at 165# I had learned my body could do things I never thought it could. That skinny was OK, and certainly better than fat. Or so I thought. Family and friends I hugged said I was too skinny, that I was bony and it was not OK. I should gain some weight.<br />
I learned there is a narrow window between "too fat" and "too skinny" and the size of that margin is arbitrary, in constant flux, and the bottom line is my body is never "OK" the way it is.<br />
My weight went up again as I went to various naval schools. Then down again just before I got married. Then up again after I got married. Then down again when I went to Jenny Craig. Then up again when I stopped following someone else's predetermined meal plans. Then down a little, and up a little more, yo-yo-ing over the years. By 2002 after my mom died I was 230# and a few months later tipped the scales at 250#. I hated my body and hated that I couldn't change. And I hated that others seemed to be able to control what they ate, and have svelt bodies that were acceptable and sexy and lovable.<br />
In the fall of 2004 I went through something of a crisis of faith and came out the other side with a perspective I had not had since I was a little kid: I realized that I not only loved myself, I actually LIKED myself. Just. The way. I was.<br />
Over the next 2 years I grew to understand that my body was not as physically healthy as it could be, and that is when learning to love it enough to make changes to protect and heal it became a priority. I tried a few things but nothing 'stuck'.<br />
But then in the spring of 2008 at age 42, weighing around 220#, something just clicked inside me and I decided to start taking care of myself. I looked into eating for hunger (instead of all the other emotional reasons there are to eat). And as I lost a little weight I started walking. And as I started walking I added a little running. And as I lost more weight I added more running and learned that if I run slow enough to stay within my breath, I may not win any races but hey -- I can actually *enjoy* running!<br />
So fast forward to today. I am 49, and am still 5' 9". I weigh around 165# and while many people see me as 'skinny' or 'thin' or 'in good shape' etc, <fill blank="" in="" the="">what they don't know is I have man boobs, and loose skin folds. These are leftovers from when my body was 85# heavier. And since these are not medically concerning, I have decided there is no need for me to seek surgery just to make my body look different.</fill><br />
<fill blank="" in="" the="">My man boobs and loose skin in my abdomen will never really go away. And I see those in the mirror every. single. day.</fill><br />
Some of the time I am able to look past them and look myself in the eye and love myself for who I am today, loose skin and all, with faults on the inside as well as the outside.</div>
<div class="_209g _2vxa" data-block="true" data-offset-key="b1pi-0-0" data-reactid=".dz.1.$composer.0.0.0.0.0.$editor0.0.0.$b1pi" style="background-color: white; color: #141823; direction: ltr; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; position: relative; white-space: pre-wrap;">
<span data-offset-key="b1pi-0-0" data-reactid=".dz.1.$composer.0.0.0.0.0.$editor0.0.0.$b1pi.0:$b1pi-0-0">And sometimes when I look in the mirror I still see 'the fat kid'. And sometimes I look beyond that and see 'the skinny kid'. Either way I see a kid who is not happy with himself and wishes he could be something else so people would like him; so he could like himself.</span><br />
<span data-offset-key="b1pi-0-0" data-reactid=".dz.1.$composer.0.0.0.0.0.$editor0.0.0.$b1pi.0:$b1pi-0-0">I wish I could say that when I see 'the fat kid' or 'the skinny kid' I choose to feel love for that kid; that I choose to embrace him wholeheartedly and in that place of love and acceptance allow him the space to be who he is and feel love right there. And sometimes I do feel those things, and it is healing and wonderful.</span><br />
But sometimes I just see a fat kid who feels unlovable, and I feel like an unlovable fat man.<br />
And sometimes I see a skinny kid who feels unlovable and I feel like an unlovable skinny man.<br />
And sometimes it still really hurts to not be svelt and muscular and toned. And in those painful moments, the fact that I can run marathons and ultramarathons and am 49 but have the metabolic fitness of a 34 yr old doesn't mean a thing because all I see is that I am not (and will never be) that unreachable ideal that I think I need to be to become acceptable; to be lovable.<br />
So if you struggle with those same things, please know you are not alone.<br />
I may not have the courage or the creativity to stand half-naked in a public place and allow people to mark my body -- but I can write from the heart and tell my own story here on my own blog.<br />
I can tell you that it IS possible to come to the place were you love yourself and even like yourself. And sometimes when that happens, your body does begin to change, but not all at once. And even if and when the number on the scale or the body you see in the mirror becomes a more physically fit and healthful body, you know what? The ideal body you were chasing stays fleeting. So please, please, please: just learn to love yourself right here and right now. And let the rest come (whatever it looks like), if and when it ever does.<br />
And like the video linked above, and like this blog post, please spread the word in your own way to let the world know that when courageous vulnerability is met with compassion and acceptance, something amazing can happen. It is called love.<br />
Love yourself people. And love others. It really is that simple.<br />
~ Keith</div>
Can Opener Boyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06074132164038079006noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19944141.post-28544795080625245982015-05-09T16:23:00.003-07:002015-09-12T20:59:00.372-07:00I'm Still Just Me, Even After 'After'.<div class="_209g _2vxa" data-block="true" data-offset-key="fmmm4-0-0" data-reactid=".dw.1:4:1:$comment1066929883321611_1066977899983476:0.0.$right.0.0.0.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.$fmmm4" style="background-color: white; color: #141823; direction: ltr; font-family: 'helvetica neue', helvetica, arial, 'lucida grande', sans-serif; line-height: 16px; position: relative; white-space: pre-wrap;">
<span data-offset-key="fmmm4-0-0" data-reactid=".dw.1:4:1:$comment1066929883321611_1066977899983476:0.0.$right.0.0.0.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.$fmmm4.0:$fmmm4-0-0">Recently an acquaintance gestured toward me and said to someone I was with: "Look at him, he's so fit! I hate him!" and we all laughed.</span><br />
...but it made me think, and ponder. And then my courageous friend Darcy put <a href="https://cannebodyhearme.wordpress.com/2015/04/13/the-after-myth/" target="_blank">this blog post</a> on Facebook. It is a wonderful snapshot into the life of a young woman whose weight loss experience has brought her to a new perspective. I can totally relate.<br />
I used to think "I hate myself, because I'm fat." but then somewhere along the way I realized I had it backwards. I was overweight because I used food as a comfort...because somewhere deep inside I was unhappy with who I was as a person; considered myself of no value to the people or world around me; of no significance. (cue pity party theme music and clips of George Bailey stumbling through town.)<br />
And once I realized that I really could like myself, even love myself -- not just in spite of my flaws, but BECAUSE of my flaws (the strongest reasons for needing to experience love and acceptance from others and from myself!), then the weight began to come off, and I began to exercise and even discovered I liked that too, for various reasons.<br />
And today, being at a healthy weight is sometimes a really scary thing for me, since my identity as a "fat guy" and even a "guy who used to be fat but who is now losing weight" took up so much of my life that to be "the guy who is not overweight" is frighteningly new sometimes and I don't know HOW to be 'that guy'. That guy who is "...so fit!" that someone else says (there's often a little truth in every jest) "I hate him!"<br />
Yeah, me too, sometimes.<br />
Because while it is true that as I lost weight and have kept it off, the use of food as a comfort and a run-from-the-internal-pain-of-the-moment tactic has sometimes been easier to avoid, sometimes it has been monstrously difficult.<br />
Some days I experience freedom and I can just sit. And just. Be. With myself. And I look in the mirror and see past weight and height and body image stuff, and I can look directly into my own eyes without shame or judgment or guilt or condemnation. I see the work I've done to get free, while also acknowledging the inadequacy to have done it on my own. Creator and those placed around me have upheld me in this and so much more. And I feel connected and alive and vibrant and strong. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu2MsQ9xaQ4B4MNc8F3Vn-ECcsy1sOtzN2-FRIAk3zJzSiOGj-35hdIyOFKykXl2WIDlNZUL6N8OHl6nPBJSYkAJhwh8I8GYTjaUV8VgQM73Vrid89q8BSBEDDXRc14VhqGKWtdA/s1600/skinny+inside+fat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu2MsQ9xaQ4B4MNc8F3Vn-ECcsy1sOtzN2-FRIAk3zJzSiOGj-35hdIyOFKykXl2WIDlNZUL6N8OHl6nPBJSYkAJhwh8I8GYTjaUV8VgQM73Vrid89q8BSBEDDXRc14VhqGKWtdA/s640/skinny+inside+fat.jpg" width="393" /></a></div>
<div class="_209g _2vxa" data-block="true" data-offset-key="2k9c5-0-0" data-reactid=".dw.1:4:1:$comment1066929883321611_1066977899983476:0.0.$right.0.0.0.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.$2k9c5" style="background-color: white; color: #141823; direction: ltr; font-family: 'helvetica neue', helvetica, arial, 'lucida grande', sans-serif; line-height: 16px; position: relative; white-space: pre-wrap;">
Other days I look in the mirror and I see the fat guy inside the thin guy. I may not have as much excess skin as the courageous <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2015/03/21/matt-diaz-excess-skin-weight-loss_n_6915550.html" target="_blank">Matt Diaz</a> but I have enough 'sharpei skin' to make taking my shirt off in public an embarrassing thing still, sometimes. So that extra stuff is what I see. The stuff that will never come off; the 'hard lard'. And in that place of guilt and shame and condemnation and self-judgment, I sometimes experience a return to the slavery from which I was set free, and I eat without thinking and without really being present, and then I feel shame and guilt so I want to eat more, and then I feel worse, and so then I... Well, you know.<br />
Vicious cycle.<br />
<span data-offset-key="8hluq-0-0" data-reactid=".dw.1:4:1:$comment1066929883321611_1066977899983476:0.0.$right.0.0.0.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.$8hluq.0:$8hluq-0-0" style="background-color: transparent;">These days instead of running away from myself I most often run into myself, and I do the work of digging deep and praying and asking hard questions of God and Cathy </span><span data-offset-key="8hluq-2-0" data-reactid=".dw.1:4:1:$comment1066929883321611_1066977899983476:0.0.$right.0.0.0.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.$8hluq.2:$8hluq-2-0">and close friends and even paying a professional counselor from time to time. And I do the even harder work of actually receiving their love for me. I allow them to love me when I can't love me, and in that space I allow them to teach me how to love myself in healthy ways. Because here's a little nugget for you to chew on:</span><br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Healthy self-love is sometimes just as elusive at a healthy weight as it is at a morbidly obese weight -- harder even, since there are no outward signs that I or anyone else can point to (like a big gut, or a number on a scale) and say "See!?!?!? UN-LOVABLE!!!! ...because of THAT!"</blockquote>
And I'm learning to move past the fears and the doubts and I can see so much love and hope. And I love to eat good food, especially when I am really present to the sensory experience and enjoyment of it at each bite. And with each bite I try to remember how it used to be, and be grateful for who I am today. Who I *AM*, not how I look, or what I weigh. I may be grateful for those too, but that is ironicaly immaterial.<br />
Today I weigh 170 and my goal weight is 158. But whether I'm 158 or 170 or 258 or 370, I am still me, and I am still worth loving, and I'm the only me I can be -- so I am me, unapologetically, flaws and all. In process, yes; always. But I don't think I'll ever reach "After".</div>
<div class="_209g _2vxa" data-block="true" data-offset-key="9b6p6-0-0" data-reactid=".dw.1:4:1:$comment1066929883321611_1066977899983476:0.0.$right.0.0.0.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.$9b6p6" style="background-color: white; color: #141823; direction: ltr; font-family: 'helvetica neue', helvetica, arial, 'lucida grande', sans-serif; line-height: 16px; position: relative; white-space: pre-wrap;">
As the blogger in the linked article so eloquently says:<br />
"There’s no pot of gold at the end of the rainbow of weight loss because the rainbow has no end.<br />
There is today. There is now. There is during. There is life."<br />
Today, I'm living life.<br />
During.<br />
<span style="background-color: transparent;">~ Keith</span></div>
Can Opener Boyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06074132164038079006noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19944141.post-28417017008682210692015-02-28T11:42:00.001-08:002015-03-03T09:55:23.739-08:00Running (Further) Into My Self<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Here's a link to </span><a href="https://connect.garmin.com/modern/activity/707959508" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;" target="_blank">the run I went on today</a><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">:</span><br />
<div style="color: #222222;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #222222;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The hills were pretty difficult at times, but overall it was a good run and I tried to just enjoy myself and not think about pace.</span></div>
<div style="color: #222222;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #222222;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As I was out there, I thought about a </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">friend who is a new runner. I've been running about 6 1/2 years, and she's been running about 3-6 months. She'd asked me recently when I started trying to get faster; how long had I been into running before </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I started trying to increase my speed (note I said 'increase', not 'improve' -- my high school English teacher would've called that foreshadowing). =)</span></div>
<div style="color: #222222;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #222222;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It has been a week or so since she asked me, and I've waited awhile to respond since it is something of a lengthy and complex answer -- and so I pondered that today as I ran.</span></div>
<div style="color: #222222;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #222222;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The short answer is: It was probably around 6 months or 1 year into running, maybe 18 months -- whenever I ran my first bibbed race and wondered if I could do it faster.</span></div>
<div style="color: #222222;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #222222;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And now, here is the long answer.</span></div>
<div style="color: #222222;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />I had this impression that as I got more fit, my speed would naturally increase. And it did. I set PR after PR after PR and it was intoxicating. And while I knew at some point to 'get faster' would mean more work and cross training and etc etc, I somehow thought that if when I started a 90% effort gave me a PR then over time, that same 90% effort would simply yield more and more speed. In essence I thought I'd get faster without 'feeling' like I was working any harder. And that was true for a time.</span></div>
<div style="color: #222222;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />I've hit a peak now, though, where I don't know that I can get any faster. I mean, if I think about it, it makes sense: If I started at a 12:00/mile pace and then later for the same effort I was running an 11:00/mile pace and then 10:00/mile pace etc... at some point there *has* to be a limit, right? If I just keep running and working harder, can I hit an 8 pace for a 10k? a 7 pace for a 5k? -- then a 7 pace for a 10k and a 6:30 pace for a 5k? Will I ever run a 5:00 mile? Where's my lower limit?</span></div>
<div style="color: #222222;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #222222;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And for a few years, I had no idea where that limit was, so when it started to get harder to go faster; and PRs started to get less and less common, I just worked harder. I tried new training plans and different stretches and speed drills and different shoes and different fueling techniques. And sometimes it paid off. I saw a few more PRs and that was fun. </span></div>
<div style="color: #222222;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #222222;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But now I realize that the increased work and effort and stress to eek out a 2-3 sec/mile gain is just not worth it. In reaching for the prize of a reduced time on my watch, I paid the price of losing the joy of just being out there reveling in the movement and sights and experience of running just for the sake of running.</span></div>
<div style="color: #222222;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #222222;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And couple that with this: seeing someone who has been running less time than I have, who is older than me, run faster than me! That's one of the main reasons I stopped reading RunnersWorld magazine. There's a section called "What does it take to..." and it is meant to be motivational, I suppose. This section has a few mini articles, with catchy headings like "What does it take to run a marathon on one leg?" and will tell the story about a soldier who has a prosthetic leg and ran his first marathon, for charity. "Yea! How inspiring! If he can do it so can I!!!" But there's also the ones like "Jeff McSpeedy had a heart attack at age 54, weighed in at 285#, and started running 6 months ago. Today he weighs 152# and he just ran his very first marathon in 3:15, qualifying for Boston next year!!!" and those would actually DE-motivate me. I'd see person after person on those pages who was improving WAY faster and WAY more than I was. "What does it take to...?" Apparently, it takes a hell of a lot more than I have inside me.</span></div>
<div style="color: #222222;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />And it is not just in magazines. A personal friend is about a decade younger than me. He was not overweight, but also not very active. He was a pretty aggressive hiker, but did not have a chance to go do that regularly. He said I inspired him to start running. Yea! I felt special! Until, </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">after 3-4 months of running, he ran his first half-marathon...at around a 7:30/mile pace. Now, after 1-2 years or so, he runs 10 mile training runs at a 7:15 pace just on a routine day. And yes it's not all sour grapes. I'm happy for him, I really am! But somewhere inside, my heart whispers: "How come I can't do that?" and </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">that points me back to the gaping hole inside me with a neon sign that blares out "NOT ENOUGH! NOT ENOUGH! NOT ENOUGH!" over and over and over.</span></div>
<div style="color: #222222;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />So between the 'motivational' articles in magazines, & the real-life stories of people I know, suddenly I was no longer as special as I thought. At least not on paper, looking at numbers.<br />I was just a below-average-improvement-rate guy facing the fact that I was never going to be as fast as "that person". And yeah, maybe someone else will never be as "fast" as I am, but somehow that doesn't ease the pain of knowing I've plateaued and the goals I once thought were realistic (a 4:00 marathon, or a 1:45 Half, etc) may be unattainable. Or the work I'd have to put in would not be worth the result. Especially since once I hit *that* goal, there would be yet another carrot out in front of me and it would be a never-ending procession of trying and failing...and that became hurtful to me.</span></div>
<div style="color: #222222;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #222222;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And it all came to a head this January when I ran my favorite half-marathon, for the 5th year in a row. I had my sights set on a PR, and was well on my way at the 6.5 mile turn-around. Then at the 9 mile point I was hanging on...and around mile 11 "the wheels fell off" as we say, and while I finished faster than some people, I didn't finish as fast as I had hoped, despite hard efforts. I was demoralized, demotivated, and depressed.</span></div>
<div style="color: #222222;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #222222;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So I had a choice.</span></div>
<div style="color: #222222;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />So now instead of being upset by that, I've given myself grace. We are, all of us, faster than someone else, and slower than someone else. And instead of trying to be someone I'm not, I'm trying to just be who I am -- knowing some days I'll set a PR that will feel really good, and other days (MOST other days) I won't. And while I understand the value of always trying to 'be a better me' I now understand that speed or distance are much less important to me than they once were.</span></div>
<div style="color: #222222;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="color: #222222;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Better" means something new to me now.</span></blockquote>
<div style="color: #222222;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />I've entered a new phase of my running where I set my super-fancy GPS watch to just tell me total time. I have no idea how far or how fast I'm going. I have to have a general idea, so I know when to turn around and come home, etc -- but I resist the temptation to do the math in my head of figuring out "Well, I know from my house to here it's about x miles and if my watch says I've been running Y minutes, then I must be averaging Z minutes/mile"</span></div>
<div style="color: #222222;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />Instead, I really just try to just stay within my breath, and take in the experience; enjoy the time. Some days I put out a little more effort and some days I take it real easy. I vary things to spice it up a bit and play around. And when I get home and synch my watch, it'll tell me the data. Some days I'm faster than I thought I was -- and some days I'm slower, and while the former is still quite fun, the latter is no longer as upsetting as it used to be. </span></div>
<div style="color: #222222;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />Some day I may 'try for more' again, but I hope if that happens I'll be more gentle with myself.</span></div>
<div style="color: #222222;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />So if you are reading this and are new to running or have been running for ages and are at a plateau, I encourage you to do the same. If there is a 'biggest' mistake I've made along the way ('cause there've been a few!) it's the above.</span></div>
<div style="color: #222222;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #222222;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The most amazing aspect of becoming a runner is this: I get to spend time "<a href="http://canopenerboy.blogspot.com/2009/10/running-into-myself.html" target="_blank">Running Into Myself</a>" over and over again. I now know that no matter how deep I dig, there's always a little bit more inside. There's always more inside me than I think there is: more muck to clean out, and more goodness and light to reveal and share. And that translates into every other aspect of my life and has given me confidence and courage in many ways.</span></div>
<div style="color: #222222;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #222222;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But I've focused too much on the rush of the "I'm getting faster/thinner/stronger/etc!" aspect of the "I had more inside me than I ever thought I did" feelings. And each of those has a limit.</span></div>
<div style="color: #222222;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #222222;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Now, I am trying to stay in the realm of "I have more inside me than I ever thought I did" but from the perspective of "Let's see how many minutes of this run today I can spend actually *enjoying* myself and spending time with God and creation and whatever I'm listening to, whether it is my thoughts or an audio book or music or whatever."</span></div>
<div style="color: #222222;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #222222;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">No matter what my time or distance, letting running stay "funning" is what will keep me getting out there again and again and again.</span></div>
<div style="color: #222222;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #222222;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">That simple joy is where it is at.</span></div>
<div style="color: #222222;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #222222;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And there is no limit to that joy.</span></div>
<div style="color: #222222;">
<div class="gmail_signature">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="gmail_signature">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">~ Keith</span></div>
</div>
Can Opener Boyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06074132164038079006noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19944141.post-66631898332950167482014-11-23T12:45:00.000-08:002014-11-23T12:45:29.949-08:00Strike, Shadow, Strike!Because of my work as a <a href="http://www.bentonhospice.org/for-patients-and-families/" target="_blank">Hospice Nurse</a> I no longer recoil from death and dying as I once did. But so many people still do. A chief desire of mine is to help people overcome this fear and loathing. I want people to see past it; to look beneath it to see the humanity; the person. At that level, we can all relate and share a common understanding of just how precious life really is. This allows us to stop running away from ourselves and each other, and instead turn toward one another and really live; really love.<br />
<br />
Recently I was struck by a quote from Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol, which really captures how I look at death these days.<br />
<br />
Dickens sets the stage: Ebenezer Scrooge is with the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come. He has been taken to a room which was very dark<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"...too dark to be observed with any accuracy, though Scrooge glanced round it in obedience to a secret impulse, anxious to know what kind of room it was. A pale light, rising in the outer air, fell straight upon the bed; and on it, plundered and bereft, unwatched, unwept, uncared for, was the body of this man.</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Scrooge glanced towards the Phantom. Its steady hand was pointed to the head. The cover was so carelessly adjusted that the slightest raising of it, the motion of a finger upon Scrooge's part, would have disclosed the face. He thought of it, felt how easy it would be to do, and longed to do it; but had no more power to withdraw the veil than to dismiss the spectre at his side."</blockquote>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj62ut9IkhdUSDzyhp1epK404I9c5DWLtO2V8IDQrjJxebgC0_nHSg3DuHHIShZXTVZKsONBQgTaEhWkHHKihu72_RyNy996qkTeO9L5XiS4fGZA3RvSv5SiByjfg2DE6up3Ap6YA/s1600/woodcut+scrooge+dead+body.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj62ut9IkhdUSDzyhp1epK404I9c5DWLtO2V8IDQrjJxebgC0_nHSg3DuHHIShZXTVZKsONBQgTaEhWkHHKihu72_RyNy996qkTeO9L5XiS4fGZA3RvSv5SiByjfg2DE6up3Ap6YA/s1600/woodcut+scrooge+dead+body.jpg" height="200" width="400" /></a></div>
Here is Scrooge, unable to face death although he knew he wanted and needed to. And in that place of fear and hesitancy, he hears a voice. Dickens tells us "No voice pronounced these words in Scrooge's ears, and yet he heard them when he looked upon the bed."<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"Oh cold, cold, rigid, dreadful Death, set up thine altar here, and dress it with such terrors as thou hast at thy command: for this is thy dominion!</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
But of the loved, revered, and honoured head, thou canst not turn one hair to thy dread purposes, or make one feature odious. It is not that the hand is heavy and will fall down when released; it is not that the heart and pulse are still; but that the hand <i>was</i> open, generous, and true; the heart brave, warm, and tender; and the pulse a man's.</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Strike, Shadow, strike! And see his good deeds springing from the wound, to sow the world with life immortal!"</blockquote>
Dickens wisely reminds us that if we love one another, revere & honor one another, then even in death the faces of our loved ones will not be dreadful or horrible. I've seen people gaze in wonder and awe at the face of a family member who has just died. The true worth and value of that person somehow becomes more understandably <i>real</i> than it ever was when they were alive. Part of missing someone is the realization that they meant far more to you than you ever knew...until they were gone. And this is good for us, because (if we let it) this experience opens a new space inside us to love more fully than we had before.<br />
<br />
When someone dies and all we have left is their memory, this becomes a story we tell to ourselves and to others, and the next generation then remembers as well. It is like a seed falling to the earth and being buried: only in this way can that seed bring forth new life. And we, in the very act of dying, become the story that is told and changes the world around us.<br />
<br />
The holidays are a very difficult time for many who have lost loved ones. We feel their loss more keenly when we see and experience the warmth of family and friends. This year may we all remember fondly our loved ones who are gone from our sight. Tell lots of stories and share memories of the bad and the good times of life lived <i>together</i>. And, in so doing, like Dickens we can taunt death; revile its seeming theft by acknowledging the way new life always has a way of springing up to the eternal.<br />
<br />
Life and Love do win, my friends.<br />
<br />
In the end Life and Love will always win.<br />
<br />
~ KeithCan Opener Boyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06074132164038079006noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19944141.post-14467158142967786092014-06-15T06:39:00.000-07:002014-06-15T07:12:29.483-07:00A Fatherless Man's Reflection on Manhood and Not Being a Father on Father's Day<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><u>Preface</u></b></div>
<br />
Many women who are not moms (whether they wanted to be moms or not) have written about how it feels to be a "Woman who is not a mom" on Mother's Day. I empathize with them, and want to share a bit about my own feelings of being a man who is not a father, on Father's Day.<br />
<br />
Over many years and with help from others I have come to truly appreciate both the fact of my maleness <i>and</i> the fullness of nuanced femininity within me which makes my personal gender expression less stereotypically masculine than most of the men I see around me in the world. I've wrestled through my own feelings and come through on the other side (solely by the grace of God) as a secure and (mainly) well-adjusted man.<br />
<br />
I used to have poor boundaries and live an overly-transparent life. These days I rarely wear my heart fully on my sleeve in startlingly-public venues such as blogging and social media. But sometimes it feels more than just OK to share these feelings with a wider audience, sometimes it feels important to do so. Maybe someone else needs to hear this. Maybe someone else is going through a similar experience and needs to know they are not alone. Heck, maybe I need to know I am not alone.<br />
<br />
Part of being well-adjusted means telling the truth and sharing from my heart about stuff which is not all rosy and bubbly; acknowledging the pain that is still there so it can be dealt with. Sometimes that is shared only with people very close to me. Today it feels important, if a bit scary, to speak to this pain more publicly.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><u><i>Brief disclaimer</i></u></b></div>
<i><br /></i>
<i>After you read this, you may find yourself wanting to respond in some way, either in the comments on this blog or on Twitter and Facebook where this will end up being linked. You may perceive me to have some negative emotions (high marks for perceptivity) and therefore find yourself wanting to encourage me in some way. I welcome that, with the following caveat: I'm not writing this looking for sympathy. Empathy, however, is most welcome if you feel so moved. For a very brief, yet brilliant primer on the difference, and why empathy is so important I strongly encourage you to watch <a href="http://youtu.be/1Evwgu369Jw" target="_blank">this 3 minute video</a> before reading further.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>And now, on to the post itself.</i><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><u>Father's Day Blues</u></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Like many men in my generation, I had a father who was wasn't there for me and when he was he didn't know what to do with me. My dad was away a lot in the military until I was 4. After that he was away a lot at work. When he started his own business as a Court Reporter this just got worse. Even when he was physically present at home he was working so much he might as well have not been there. "Don't bug dad, he's working." From the time I was about 8 until I was a teenager, my bedroom was his office and I fell asleep to the sound of his typewriter or his voice doing dictation. It was confusing and maddening: he was just a few feet away, yet so damn inaccessible. (Got a Harry Chapin song going through your head now? Yeah, me too).<br />
<br />
And when he was physically present, dad was mainly emotionally absent much of them time, at least to me. My sisters can tell their own story but it seemed to me he was available more to them than he was to me. My sense was that he knew how to <i>be</i> with them, but not with me. I was somehow different and I picked up on that at an early age. I can remember some good times, sure -- who can't? But the overarching and lasting memory I have is that what emotions I did sense from him were disappointment and anger.<br />
<br />
He came to every baseball game I lost (there were precious few wins) and watched from the sidelines at all the football games I spent on the bench (precious little time on the field). But I can't recall a single time he came to any choir concert or play I was in. Not one single time. The overall sense I had was that he felt frustrated because I was not the son he wanted me to be. And, since he was the adult, like so many kids my internal response at a deep level was to believe it must be a problem on my end. Something must be wrong with me.<br />
<br />
I am the youngest of 5 kids and the only boy. So, with a mainly-absent dad, between my sisters and my mom I was influenced mainly by females in my early formative years. But I sensed from my sisters they did not know what to do with me either. I'm sure that, in part, this was just being the youngest. I was the new kid who made an already crowded social milieu that much more complex.<br />
<br />
In addition, though, I sensed my stark difference from them all the more as I grew up. They all got certain kinds of clothes. Mine were different. They all were allowed to choose from a certain list of activities in and out of school. My choices were not the same. They all got certain emotional responses from mom and dad for certain behaviors. Mine were different. It's like they had a list of rules to live by that they knew but it was a girls-only secret. I could intuit and perceive some of them and even try to follow them...but it just didn't work. I was different and I did not know what to do with that any more than my father or my sisters did.<br />
<br />
My mom tried to intervene where she could. She was the one person who at least seemed to <i>somewhat</i> understand me. When I did things they saw as peculiar, she'd tell them "He's just being a boy" <i>(which served to reinforce and even normalize that "being a boy" means your family doesn't like you or know what to do with you when you behave "that way")</i>. And mom would encourage my sisters to play with me, but they wouldn't always include me. When I was lonely and expressed that to her, my mom's stock response was "Well, I guess you'll just have to learn to play by yourself" <i>(meta-message: "being a boy" means being lonely a lot of the time and just having to deal with that)</i>. Maybe she was at the end of her rope and didn't know what to do with me either. Maybe she was just trying to toughen me up and teach me to move past challenges. Whatever the motivation behind her comments, the main result was to reinforce the fact that I was different and no one knew what to do with me.<br />
<br />
I did what I could to fit in. One year for Hallowe'en my costume was Pippy Longstocking (the female protagonist of some great children's adventure stories). I think a part of me figured if I could perhaps at least be a "tomboy" -- some sort of middle-ground between boy and girl -- then I could fit in.<br />
<br />
Between the sense I got from my dad that I was not what he wanted, and the sense of being so different from my sisters and mom, I wrestled a lot with gender roles. I saw movies like "Freaky Friday" where people wake up in a different body, and I lay awake some nights as a kid and wished/prayed I could wake up in the morning and just magically be a girl. Then I'd fit in. Then dad would like me. Then I would have power. Then the world would be an OK place. Then <b><i>I</i></b> would be OK.<br />
<br />
But that never happened. And I grew up as a man still feeling not quite right somehow. It has taken my whole life thus far, in fact, to continue working through these feelings and internal senses of not fitting in.<br />
<br />
As I mentioned in the preface, I appreciate both the fact of my maleness <i>and</i> the nuanced femininity within me. And I am fully secure in who I am. This security, however, does not mean it is not challenging still, at times, to be who I am. Feeling <i>different</i> still comes up. Here are a couple recent examples:<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>In an unrelated conversation, I mentioned to a coworker that I was the youngest of 5 kids and the only boy (in a home with an emotionally absent dad). She commented "Oh, wow, that makes total sense!" and when I asked her what she meant she said she now understands how I became a nurse and work so well in a mainly female environment. My heart was encouraged by this affirmation and at the same time part of what my heart heard was <i>"Oh, that makes sense now. You're not a regular man, so of course you fit in better than you would if you were not so different"</i></li>
<li>I've posted a few things re: #YesAllWomen and #NotAllMen and a number of women have thanked me for restoring in them a level of trust and hope that some men do "get it". Hurray -- I felt connected and understood and accepted. Oh wait, except all that connection was with women. Not a single man has responded to those posts in a like-minded way or in person to even discuss it. I'm glad to not be "the scary snatcher-dude I have to be afraid of" to the women around me, but it is painfully obvious how different that makes me from most men. </li>
</ul>
<br />
<div>
But I digress. At this point either you get it or you don't and me continuing to ramble on about it is not going to enhance the former nor change the latter.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><u>Back to the conclusion of <i>Father's Day Blues</i></u></b></div>
<br />
Along the way I got married and for the past 25+ years Cathy and I have developed a wonderful life together. Early on in our marriage we discussed children -- even had a couple tentative names picked out. For a variety of reasons (which I won't go into here) we decided neither to have children, nor to adopt. For the sake of brevity suffice to say over the years we have experienced a number of people who don't know what to do with this. Or worse, they think there is something to do about this so they try to "fix" us, because we're, what's the word? Oh yeah: <i>Different</i>.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
Over the years I have waxed and waned in my satisfaction with not being a dad. It is what it is, and we have no desire to adopt at this point. But still, I like to think I would have made a good dad. I see Father's Day commercials and sometimes I get misty-eyed wishing I'd had kids so that I could have at least taken the <i>chance</i> to <b><i>try</i></b> and be a different dad to my kids than my dad was to me. But that did not happen.<br />
<br />
So here we are at Father's Day again. Heart-string-twanging commercials on TV, and Facebook posts about gifts of power tools and flannel shirts, goofy cards and meat-filled breakfasts made by little hands.<br />
<br />
And I know some GREAT dads and have some pretty darn good memories of my own dad. So I celebrate with everyone who celebrates dads today. I even put cool pictures of my dad as my profile picture and cover photo on facebook -- not insincerely.<br />
<br />
But I'm not a dad. And in general I did not have "a great dad".<br />
<br />
And today when it seems like every other man out there is being celebrated for being a dad, or people are writing awesome stuff about how amazing their own dad is/was -- I am left out. Again.<br />
<br />
Different.<br />
<br />
And yes, I know all the things about being "a father figure" and all that. Yes, it is true and yet it is not the same. And we all know it is not the same.<br />
<br />
So here I am, who I am -- a fatherless man who is not a father, on Father's Day -- feeling once again not-a-part-of-things.<br />
<br />
Different.<br />
<br />
~ Keith<br />
<br />
PS / Epilogue: because "being secure" is not always 100%, and some of you will so badly want to silver-lining me, I will go ahead and mention here that in case you were wondering yes I <b>have</b> posted before on how awesome my dad and mom and sisters are. You can search my archives to read those posts which were honest and true. Before my dad died he and I talked about all of this some, and that was healing and good...and didn't change what was. And now that he is gone, I am again/still fatherless.<br />
<br />
And I chose not to add anything about that up there in the body of this message because sometimes it is OK to just feel bad and to be sad and to not have to "find a balance" and "be fair" because those don't help in moments like these -- they just serve to invalidate the negative emotions and that is not productive or helpful. Don't believe me? Take 3 minutes and go watch <a href="http://youtu.be/1Evwgu369Jw" target="_blank">this video</a>.Can Opener Boyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06074132164038079006noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19944141.post-53022754403184710602013-08-05T11:47:00.000-07:002013-08-05T11:47:40.460-07:00True Story: Do the DewA friend and I were chatting recently, and I shared this story. At her prompting, I'm sharing it here for a wider aurdience...just so you all get some small glimpse into the life of nurses who visit people in their homes.<br />
<br />
Lots of people think caring for people in their own homes looks like this:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVj_CyFVXmRzyXH5VAv_6fYgWsEzRgAKyeoDhpQBRVwGSidnTNMuNHBOMj7qe6_NHvP2-MsiqoKee_hZWsuvdGN9GEkmSaFYeoriwuLx4aBO5nn58L5SjFoJTvZJGx8-3Qja7jCw/s1600/home1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="177" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVj_CyFVXmRzyXH5VAv_6fYgWsEzRgAKyeoDhpQBRVwGSidnTNMuNHBOMj7qe6_NHvP2-MsiqoKee_hZWsuvdGN9GEkmSaFYeoriwuLx4aBO5nn58L5SjFoJTvZJGx8-3Qja7jCw/s400/home1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
...and sometimes it does. But not always.<br />
<br />
True story: The year was 2000. I was a home care nurse and had a new patient to admit to our services in East Palo Alto, CA. For those of you who don't know, that was (still is?) a <strong><em>bad</em></strong> part of town – definitely the wrong side of the tracks.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-eo_zpxs0A5qOjqdAi-xhfqMH9l3EFB_EakPNc_NBfHP81fPyeFUKx8QDmtH1Y6RaNpFB7_QuQ8YeVA_oBryLH7os1r1r1dvDNTja93b1y-RZpvG2sgPbJk7HutGcA00YtXF5jg/s1600/sketchy+neighborhood.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-eo_zpxs0A5qOjqdAi-xhfqMH9l3EFB_EakPNc_NBfHP81fPyeFUKx8QDmtH1Y6RaNpFB7_QuQ8YeVA_oBryLH7os1r1r1dvDNTja93b1y-RZpvG2sgPbJk7HutGcA00YtXF5jg/s400/sketchy+neighborhood.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
(This picture is not EPA, but you get the idea)</div>
<br />
As I pulled up in front of the house, there was nowhere to park…but right in front of the patient’s house, a dude was leaning into the driver’s side window of a parked car and clearly some sort of “deal” was being done, with cash being exchanged quickly, etc. Also of note, in one hand, the dude held the leash of a large rottweiler.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUH800TXODk3y43yuW57XKNfFxAd4bfXc857qwi3_xq3ObXssHq8-dqIjU8OkUSZOTkRLNiCfzPmwGRONN0zUyol98erjaWuRkhsdvpIi8kTPr0x_lDSzNm-5r1r4KzeBTep1H5A/s1600/Rottweiler-Guard-Dog-Training.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="230" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUH800TXODk3y43yuW57XKNfFxAd4bfXc857qwi3_xq3ObXssHq8-dqIjU8OkUSZOTkRLNiCfzPmwGRONN0zUyol98erjaWuRkhsdvpIi8kTPr0x_lDSzNm-5r1r4KzeBTep1H5A/s320/Rottweiler-Guard-Dog-Training.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
The car drove away and I parked in his spot.<br />
<br />
The guy who'd been leaning in the driver's side window took the rottweiller (named "Felony", I later found out!) and tied it up to the garage door handle.<br />
<br />
...then he began walking toward <strong><em>my</em></strong>driver's side wondow. The look on his face said both "Are you sure you want to be here man?" and "If you aren't supposed to be here, you're going to be sorry!"<br />
<br />
I took a deep breath and rolled down my window, introduced myself as a nurse who was here to see someone in the neighborhood and...was it OK to park here?<br />
<br />
He said “Oh, you must be Keith! My dad said you would be here soon. Sorry about that man – I’ll make sure you <strong><em>always</em></strong> have a parking place, don’t worry about it!” …and he always did!<br />
<br />
He turned out to be a very devoted son, and was really helpful all the time; clearly cared a lot for his dad…in the middle of various “deals” he was doing outside.<br />
<br />
…and one day as I was getting ready to leave, he said “Hey, do you like Mt. Dew?” I said, “Umm, yeah, but I’m headed out to see another patient so I can’t stay, sorry.” He said, “No problem – here take some with you!” and he opened a closet door.<br />
<br />
On the floor of the closet were approximately 30 two-liter bottles of Mt. Dew!<br />
<br />
My mind flashed through a few scenarios as I wondered where in the heck he got THIRTY 2-liter bottles of Mt. Dew…but I didn’t ask him.<br />
<br />
I just said thanks, grabbed a bottle, and walked out to my car… =)<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKJTOcCm5q5PpS6doyDpGbfleE09madHni82I0gexd7mWQly941nQo8AAAcNV2VWsoEtqvWg-M9G7135eNP5DZnV6xE1wBm8iLMB-De8KCbAAJza7xziS7T0fQpX0BxAVfeZf4GA/s1600/mt-dew-2ltr.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKJTOcCm5q5PpS6doyDpGbfleE09madHni82I0gexd7mWQly941nQo8AAAcNV2VWsoEtqvWg-M9G7135eNP5DZnV6xE1wBm8iLMB-De8KCbAAJza7xziS7T0fQpX0BxAVfeZf4GA/s320/mt-dew-2ltr.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
~ KeithCan Opener Boyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06074132164038079006noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19944141.post-11029330578242241662012-12-24T08:49:00.000-08:002012-12-24T10:11:22.437-08:00Freedom and FlyingI read this quote recently (<a href="https://www.facebook.com/benefitsofgiving">from a friend on facebook</a>) and realized how strongly I identify with it!<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
I can't speak for anyone else, but at a certain point the experience of running surpassed in value, and by a pretty wide margin, my desire to make sense out of it. </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
I don't know why I run. I don't know why I race. I don't know why I compete. I don't need to know. Because running means more to me than curiosity. It goes deeper than knowledge. I run. I compete. I move on down the line. I'm a runner. </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
For us runners, the question of “why” is pretty moot. Not because it may not be interesting, or important, from a certain point of view, but because we’ve left the question of the meaning of running behind. </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
After all the questions have been asked, and all the answers given, in spite of the disagreement on essences, physiology, rationales, training strategies, trail running, road racing, i-pod wearing, mid-foot striking, turnover cadences, arm carriages, Jack Daniels, Arthur Lydiard, 20 miles a week or 100, 5k or the 50k, whether it's really the Miles of Trials or the Trial of Miles, after all the words have been spoken and keyboards have been pounded, meanings given and ideologies subverted... </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
After all this, we runners bend down and tighten the laces, open the door, brace for the cold and are renewed: another godawful, glorious, and meaningless 8 miler. </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
- Jeff Edmonds <a href="https://www.facebook.com/logicoflongdistance?group_id=0">The Logic of Long Distance</a></blockquote>
and accompanying this post was this picture:<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGi0xzKim5IXCVo0_BoFGMxUnafRSEnSpAppJnLJS58spTrKA7JL5Daqw-WgRXqL58q-wFEW6IepR81dndXx4IvoMrfgfc8OnAXzYCEi0fglJYlNM7JnBhCtxHh6RvgySVdYlFYQ/s1600/184492_483551501687723_61746793_n.png"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGi0xzKim5IXCVo0_BoFGMxUnafRSEnSpAppJnLJS58spTrKA7JL5Daqw-WgRXqL58q-wFEW6IepR81dndXx4IvoMrfgfc8OnAXzYCEi0fglJYlNM7JnBhCtxHh6RvgySVdYlFYQ/s320/184492_483551501687723_61746793_n.png" /></a></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
I love that idea - "Aristotle's featherless bipeds" and how Edmonds goes deeper than that, since we are more than just "rational animals" -- or perhaps less-than; simpler.<br />
<br />
Before my run yesterday morning, I posted this on Twitter and Facebook:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div style="text-align: center;">
The cold dark morning-quiet streets call to me: </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
"Come away, play, discover again you are body and soul" </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
& I'm reminded running is play</div>
</blockquote>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Not long after I started running, a friend (and very experienced runner) sent me a Nike postcard with a sentiment which has become something of a mantra for me:</div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div style="text-align: center;">
Run.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Not because you are in a hurry,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
or because you are being chased.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Just run. </div>
</blockquote>
Back in 2010 as I was preparing for the Portland Marathon (my first, I ran it on 10-10-10) I read a poem by Charles Hamilton Sorley that literally moved me to tears because I so identified with it. <br />
<br />
The poem still moves me to tears to this day, as I marvel at the person I've become, and truly enjoy the process of discovery as I am still becoming.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLK2sbgYnA6sLKkgXO5MTdtfCShuGVnfGJBi7qvFLrP8XvdOug-MIcamlaLJf_41PM5lL4Youm9OkGVId81wqq3hjlBGkauEhSdddxIqz5SMPoNL3Yssolm8n4zSVB1usp_pDbjg/s1600/rain+run.jpg"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLK2sbgYnA6sLKkgXO5MTdtfCShuGVnfGJBi7qvFLrP8XvdOug-MIcamlaLJf_41PM5lL4Youm9OkGVId81wqq3hjlBGkauEhSdddxIqz5SMPoNL3Yssolm8n4zSVB1usp_pDbjg/s320/rain+run.jpg" /></a> </div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Song of the Ungirt Runners</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
We swing ungirded hips,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And lightened are our eyes,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The rain is on our lips,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
We do not run for prize.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
We know not whom we trust</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Nor whitherward we fare,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
But we run because we must</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Through the great wide air.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The waters of the seas</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Are troubled as by storm.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The tempest strips the trees</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And does not leave them warm.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Does the tearing tempest pause?</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Do the tree-tops ask it why?</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
So we run without a cause</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
'Neath the big bare sky.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The rain is on our lips,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
We do not run for prize.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
But the storm the water whips</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And the wave howls to the skies.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The winds arise and strike it</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And scatter it like sand,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And we run because we like it</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Through the broad bright land. </div>
<br />
I am a runner. And oh the joy & freedom I often feel when I run. It grounds me and releases me at the same time. I am a featherless biped, yet I am flying and oh-so-alive. Especially in the rain and wind!<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixnEEqqlGgCKyeuPEBmnMu19yHUQWmOhIw6bl8ZB8FrcnL5EJ-cl7K6FabfqiYQDo86X5oSC-EXgHJqG94RBms6S0jD1r0tsAIGJkL6xHQrJ5kT2w5liO1cX6C6wuARvzEWjhWrg/s1600/boy+rain+run.jpg"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixnEEqqlGgCKyeuPEBmnMu19yHUQWmOhIw6bl8ZB8FrcnL5EJ-cl7K6FabfqiYQDo86X5oSC-EXgHJqG94RBms6S0jD1r0tsAIGJkL6xHQrJ5kT2w5liO1cX6C6wuARvzEWjhWrg/s320/boy+rain+run.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
~ KeithCan Opener Boyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06074132164038079006noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19944141.post-18563704039578189722012-03-17T07:44:00.001-07:002012-03-17T07:44:12.389-07:00meme = me + meMy first post in ever-so-long, with an image from the interwebz, from my friend Jen. Ahh, the simple pleasures in life!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx5sjR3DYUN0Gqd0ER9uJ92x3Hzv661enjsJCVqRUcP89g9EV5g3_kZmDvOjRnuxeo83439W07KU9s1oM4tLHozcU9etQAABuLDvGo2gBLLPgbh9FXLOsnq9kiCd1vzmrx_YCkqg/s1600/canopener_cat.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx5sjR3DYUN0Gqd0ER9uJ92x3Hzv661enjsJCVqRUcP89g9EV5g3_kZmDvOjRnuxeo83439W07KU9s1oM4tLHozcU9etQAABuLDvGo2gBLLPgbh9FXLOsnq9kiCd1vzmrx_YCkqg/s320/canopener_cat.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>
~ KeithCan Opener Boyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06074132164038079006noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19944141.post-79358028314064618082011-05-01T14:41:00.000-07:002011-05-01T14:41:05.536-07:00Asking For HelpAsking for help is not always easy. Especially when it is help I know I don't really need. It's about not being lazy; not shirking. It's about integrity. Anyone who has a 3 year old child (or has been one!) has learned this lesson: sometimes it is important to do something just by myself, just to prove I can. Not to prove it to anyone else; simply to prove it to me.<br />
<br />
That's what running has been like for me. I started running in June of 2008 and the changes I've seen within myself have been nothing short of remarkable. Miraculous, really.<br />
<br />
When I set out to run the Portland Marathon in October 2010, and various people asked if I would be running for charity I knew it was something I just could not do. As noble and good as it would be, it just did not feel right in my heart. Running for a cause would certainly add motivation to my training, but it would also cloud things somehow. Selfish as it might sound, I didn't <b><i>want</i></b> to run <i>for</i> anyone else.<blockquote>I had to do this for myself.</blockquote>Once I'd run the marathon, and began to think about running another, I was surprised to find the idea of running for charity was still something I did not want to do. I was really hoping to get in to the 2011 NYC Marathon via their lottery system <i>('cause I'm nowhere near fast enough to get a guaranteed entry based on skill/timing!)</i>. Wanting badly to run in NYC though, I told myself I'd run for charity as a back-up plan: something I'd resort to as a way to get a guaranteed entry only if I had to. I felt that way right up until the drawing on Wednesday 27th April, when the website confirmed my fears: I had not been selected via the lottery.<br />
<br />
I knew there would be perhaps 100,000 people or more who would be swooping down onto the official charities so I'd have to be quick. I took a break at work and began to actually look through the various charities I could apply to run for. That's when my heart began to change.<br />
<br />
I realized there's another reason asking for help is difficult for me: it feels like an admission that I am not good enough, not bright enough, not strong enough. Reading through the charity webpages reminded me that, well, I'm not! I'm not good enough alone! No one is. I'm not bright enough to figure everything out on my own. No one is. And I'm not strong enough to get through this life alone. No one is.<br />
<br />
Once I embraced that next-level measure of my own weakness, and allowed the humility to clear my perspective, I realized something else: Asking for help is sometimes easy:<blockquote>If I have dropped a heavy load, it is hard to ask for help to pick it back up and carry it onward.<br />
<br />
But If someone else has dropped a heavy load, and I stop to help them pick it up and carry it onward -- and in doing so realize that this load is so heavy I can't be the only one to help, then asking someone to help me as I help another...that comes easily.<br />
<br />
<b><i>So here I am. Asking for your help.</i></b></blockquote>As I browsed through the charities, one stood out to me. the Multiple Myeloma Research Foundation (MMRF). As a Home Hospice RN by profession, I see the impact of this disease in my day-to-day work. But it is also personal for me. Cathy's mom died of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Multiple_myeloma" target="_blank" title="Wiki link">multiple myeloma</a>. She was only 68. Everyone who knew her tells stories of what an amazing woman she was. Vibrant, playful, compassionate, loyal, and loving to all. I wish I'd met her, <i>but I never got the chance</i>. You see, I met Cathy in May 1987, but multiple myeloma had already taken her mom's life in February of 1986. Her name was Josephine Mary (Fanucchi) Thompson -- and I'm running in her honor. I'm running so MMRF can help others beat this disease, get the chance to live to meet their family, and enjoy a full life.<blockquote>Nearly 90% of every dollar donated to the MMRF goes directly to research!</blockquote>Will you please support my participation in the 2011 New York City Marathon benefiting the MMRF? Your donation can help make the difference! <b><i>I have made a commitment to raise at least $3000 by the race on Sunday November 6th. I need your help to get there!</i></b> Please help as you can. It all adds up! On the right-hand side of <a href="http://www.active.com/donate/2011mmrfNYC/keithseckel" target="_blank" title="all donations are tax-deductible">my donations page</a> you can select a suggested donation amount, or come up with whatever you feel comfortable donating. For those interested in a per-mile sponsorship, here's the math for you!<ul><li>$1/mile = $26.20 total donation <i>(x only 115 people = $3013!)</i></li>
<li>$2/mile = $52.40 total donation <i></i></li>
<li>$3/mile = $78.60 total donation <i></i></li>
<li>$4/mile = $104.80 total donation <i></i></li>
<li>$5/mile = $131.00 total donation <i></i></li></ul>Would you please consider sponsoring me? It is as simple as following the link above.<br />
<br />
For more information, to make sure your money is going to a good cause and a reputale charity, you can follow <a href="http://www.themmrf.org/" target="_blank" title="MMRF">this link</a> to the MMRF site, and there's an NBC Nightline interview and article <a href="http://msnbc.msn.com/id/14307508/" target="_blank" title="NBC Nightline interview & article">here</a>, a reprint of a New Yorker article discussing the creative business model of MMRF <a href="http://business.highbeam.com/410951/article-1G1-173951313/buying-cure" target="_blank" title="New Yorker article">here</a> and the ubiquitous Wiki link is <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Multiple_Myeloma_Research_Foundation" target="_blank" title="Wikipedia">here</a>.<iframe width="425" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/Rm4_wyQoBp8" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe><br />
Thank you in advance for your support!<br />
~ KeithCan Opener Boyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06074132164038079006noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19944141.post-49009723396313341112011-01-28T10:45:00.000-08:002011-01-28T10:45:47.804-08:00Death's Sting is Fleeting and WeakI find it hard to put into words the depths of feeling I'm experiencing right now. My long time-friend, mentor & spiritual example Mark Macallister took his own life earlier this month after a long battle with depression and chronic pain. He leaves behind his amazing wife Jody and two beautiful and wonderful kids, Levi & Bree. This picture shows their family together and at peace.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghYvqOPLsCHpD3Z2dP7atIIozV4l5EvJiCv1XA1I3W0VzX8FAcL0g3TL_Jc6w4rHWesEuCWL_i65MAQ6K3AGsA0duPeTWHUF44N8WQRWrUbBBzRBQhPbT9XWD_pWKiiGCcCiZ2Gg/s1600/Mac+Family+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="296" width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghYvqOPLsCHpD3Z2dP7atIIozV4l5EvJiCv1XA1I3W0VzX8FAcL0g3TL_Jc6w4rHWesEuCWL_i65MAQ6K3AGsA0duPeTWHUF44N8WQRWrUbBBzRBQhPbT9XWD_pWKiiGCcCiZ2Gg/s400/Mac+Family+2.jpg" /></a></div>My heart hurts quite a bit right now due to the tragic, senseless and sudden loss of so bright a light as Mark shone to the world around. He was gregarious and compassionate and had friends in such a wide range of places I was almost always surprised when someone I knew said "Oh, Mark? Yeah, I've known Mark for years". He would never be the one to shine a light on himself, always demuring and deferring to others in a humility that was so natural and secure.<br />
<br />
Mark exemplified to me the heart of love and care for others that is the best description of the word "Pastor" I know. It was primarily his influence in my life that opened to me the possibility of giving my life away to others in this pastoral way as well.<br />
<br />
Living as followers of Jesus, Mark and I shared a hope that there is something beyond this life -- something which defies description although better men than me have certainly tried. I do take comfort in knowing Mark is "in a better place" although that rings so hollow in my ears because his current experience is so much richer than that little phrase could possibly convey, but also beacuse that little phrase sounds so trite and weak when placed against the pain of his loss to my heart.<br />
<br />
I do also take comfort in knowing that death itslef was never supposed to be part of our story -- and so it will be done away with in the final analysis. And so I have a deep appreciation for John Donne's classic poem as well. I'd heard the opening line many times of course, but seeing "Wit" with Emma Thompson really galvanized within me an appreciation for the epochs-long wrestling match with death we humans have undergone.<blockquote><center>Death be not Proud<br />
<i>By John Donne<br />
1572-1631<br />
</i><br />
DEATH be not proud, though some have called thee <br />
Mighty and dreadfull, for, thou art not so, <br />
For, those, whom thou think'st, thou dost overthrow, <br />
Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou kill me. <br />
From rest and sleepe, which but thy pictures bee, <br />
Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow, <br />
And soonest our best men with thee doe goe, <br />
Rest of their bones, and soules deliverie. <br />
Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men, <br />
And dost with poyson, warre, and sicknesse dwell, <br />
And poppie, or charmes can make us sleepe as well, <br />
And better then thy stroake; why swell'st thou then; <br />
One short sleepe past, wee wake eternally, <br />
And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die.</center></blockquote>Requiesact in pace Mark, until we meet again when death itself has been put away.<br />
<br />
~ KeithCan Opener Boyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06074132164038079006noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19944141.post-53558422603079718182011-01-23T06:46:00.000-08:002011-01-23T06:46:15.600-08:00A Week at an AbbeyI recently spent a week at an <a href="http://www.mountangelabbey.org/retreat-house/index.html" target="_blank" title="Retreat House">Abbey in Mt. Angel, OR</a>.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJLEmSym80Thyk4JYELix3ZffpNUKRtwmDk7PE-hp5B1k8oyJR9L6bmEB3Lklt0c6Y0YBSzZ_ZwEMZL_eEBU_65aQClKCYfl24wYnxqoIgMNYxECGpFoACX14w4o981tMcujhTLg/s1600/arail-51-700px.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="266" width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJLEmSym80Thyk4JYELix3ZffpNUKRtwmDk7PE-hp5B1k8oyJR9L6bmEB3Lklt0c6Y0YBSzZ_ZwEMZL_eEBU_65aQClKCYfl24wYnxqoIgMNYxECGpFoACX14w4o981tMcujhTLg/s400/arail-51-700px.jpg" /></a></div>I thought I was going there for some solitude; some silence. Apparently I was wrong.<br />
<br />
I did spend a significant amount of time alone, and being quiet, and that was nice. It was restful and restorative -- but I learned some things about solitude and silence I was not aware of before. Some I learned from my reading, and some I learned from just being there, alone. A Monk's room is sometimes referred to as a cell -- and it has been said<blockquote><center>Go into your cell,<br />
and your cell will teach you<br />
everything you need to know</center></blockquote>I wish I had more to say about it here, but I had such rich time journaling and reading and being alone with God that I feel no need. =)<br />
<br />
If there are specific questions anyone has I am happy to answer them either here on the blog in comments, or privately in eMail -- but simply chronicling my experience here (which is what I might have done in the past) strikes me as something which would somehow take away from the experience.<br />
<br />
~ KeithCan Opener Boyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06074132164038079006noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19944141.post-37616092712947143422010-12-02T09:45:00.000-08:002010-12-02T09:45:24.936-08:00Happy Holidays'Tis the season, so here is my quasi-annual post relating my thoughts on saying "Happy Holidays" vs "Merry Christmas" -- especially in the context of all the ruckus from well-meaning (if closed-minded) people who complain the former limits their free speech and who insist the latter is somehow better.<br />
<br />
=-=-=-=-=-=-=<br />
<br />
<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4424/1984/1600/ChristmasHenry.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4424/1984/200/ChristmasHenry.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>I like Thanksgiving. I also like celebrating Christmas, and the start of a New Year. I also like learning about other cultures and traditions. Channukah, Kwanzaa, etc.<br />
<br />
So am I the only one who doesn't really mind saying "Happy Holidays" to people?<br />
<br />
I mean, sure, I'm a person who is trying to live in the love of Jesus, so for me the signifigance of Christmas is such that this one holiday is at the center of <strong>my</strong> holiday season. But I know that's not true for everyone.<br />
<br />
Me wishing a "Merry Christmas" to people who don't celebrate it is like me saying "Happy Birthday!" to someone when it isn't their birthday -- isn't it? And isn't it rude for me to press the point by saying "Well, I don't care if it's not your birthday -- <b>I'm</b> celebrating it..." And isn't it even more rude to just <em><strong>assume</strong></em> that everyone I know thinks like I do, and celebrates the same things -- and isn't it even more rude for me to somehow imply they <em><strong>should</strong></em>, by making a big deal of only saying "Merry Christmas", or griping when an employer encourages the use of "Happy Holidays" instead?<br />
<br />
And anyway -- aren't "holidays" really just "holy days" and if "holy" means (among other things) "set apart" and "special" then why all the fuss when employers encourage people not to say "Merry Christmas" and instead only "allow" them to say "Happy Holidays" -- isn't that a nicer thing to say anyway -- more inclusive?<br />
<br />
Maybe it's just me.<br />
<br />
~ KeithCan Opener Boyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06074132164038079006noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19944141.post-28826715844203631382010-11-13T06:56:00.001-08:002010-11-13T06:56:57.244-08:00A Joyful SurpriseI had an experience recently which made me think (among other things) "I should blog this!"<br />
<br />
Life, as <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Lennon" target="_blank">someone</a> said, is what happens when you're making other plans. Here it is a week or more later and I'm only blogging because I woke up at 0421 and couldn't go back to sleep. I guess now is the time.<br />
<br />
I was driving home from work and had stopped at a red light. As I pulled up behind the car in front of me I noticed a young man in his late teens or early twenties, in the back seat on the passenger's side, staring vacantly out the back window. As I stopped he sort of woke up and saw me seeing him staring into space. He looked embarrassed and turned to face front. End of story, or so I thought.<br />
<br />
Then he turned back to look at me and smiled, covering his mouth with his hand and sort of shrugging. Then he turned back facing front...and began laughing hilariously. "Great," I thought "some punk kid is being a goofball and messing with me".<br />
<br />
Then he turned around <b>again</b> and actually waved at me, smiling this big goofy grin. The stress of the day was starting to wear off, and my first impression of the kid was wiped away as I saw the genuineness in his eyes. I smiled and waved back, and was surprised to see his eyes get big, his smile get bigger and, as he turned back to face front, he was actually rocking back and forth and bopping excitedly up and down in his seat. At this point it became clear to me he was not just a goofy teen, he was <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Developmental_disability" target="_blank">someone special</a>.<br />
<br />
These three brief encounters all happened within 20-30 seconds. As the light turned green and we moved forward, he turned around again, and smiled and waved. I smiled and waved back and he again responded with obvious delight, seemingly undiminished by the repetition. This went on for about 3-4 minutes, which added up to at least a dozen smiles and waves. And each and every time he responded with the same level of surprise and physically-expressed joy. Let me tell you, my stressful day was forgotten! My path home had me change lanes to the left and as I passed their car, the young man looked back. When he saw I was no longer behind him his face fell a bit, but as he turned to face front, he saw me passing them -- so he smiled and waved at me through the side window and sure enough, as I smiled and waved back, he responded with equal glee.<br />
<br />
It had really made my day and I was reveling in the wonder of it all when I came to another red light and, to my surprise, found I was somehow behind the same car again! The young man looked back and in a split second I saw his expression change from expectancy (thinking he'd see whoever he had been playing the wave and smile game with for the past few minutes) through despair (nope, that person is gone now) and then into near luminescence as he recognized me from a few moments before and realized we had been re-connected.<br />
<br />
He waved at me and I waved back. This time, though, he also flashed me a peace sign. I sent one back his way and as he turned to face front not only his face lit up; his body was hopping and jumping up and down so energetically I thought he was going to hurt himself!! We played the smile/wave/peace-sign game for a few minutes and then I changed lanes again, this time to the right. Our paths began to diverge but he followed me through the side window for another block or so. By then he was on the other side of a gas station but, somehow, he managed to make eye contact again for one last smile, wave, and peace-sign offering. I sent them back his way and faced forward. The clock on my dashboard told my brain only around 5-7 minutes had gone by, but my heart disagreed, telling my soul I'd just experienced an eternity of joy and real human connection.<blockquote>I chose to allow my soul to believe my heart.</blockquote>If I close my eyes I can still see that young man's face, full of joyful abandon and a gloriously contagious smile.<br />
<br />
~ KeithCan Opener Boyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06074132164038079006noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19944141.post-81912028397310030782010-11-01T09:23:00.000-07:002010-11-01T09:23:58.897-07:00Liminal TimesToday is 1st November, 2010 -- my 45th birthday.<br />
<br />
Yesterday was <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Halloween" target="_blank">Hallowe'en</a>, today is <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/All_Saints'_Day" target="_blank">All Saints' Day</a><br />
<br />
The transition from yesterday into today is a <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Liminal" target="_blank">liminal</a> time -- the ancient <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Celts" target="_blank">Celts</a> & <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Picts" target="_blank">Picts</a> (my ancestors) believed this to be the most powerful of all liminal days of the year -- for all the historic and sociological reasons you can read about in Wikipedia link above, but all the more for me today.<br />
<br />
This has been a year of transitions:<br />
<ul><li>From: Field-staff RN,<br />
To: RN Manager<br />
-- 4th January 2010</li>
<li>From: Vineyard church-planting pastor,<br />
To: Unaffiliated Jesus-follower<br />
-- 1st September 2010</li>
<li>From: Runner,<br />
To: Marathoner<br />
-- 10th October 2010</li>
<li>From: Early Forties,<br />
To: Middle Age<br />
-- Today!</li>
</ul>Today I have moved past my mid-forties; today I am officially middle-aged. You know what? I'm totally OK with that! In fact I love that! Like <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Denver" target="_blank">John Denver</a> said in <i><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Poems,_Prayers,_and_Promises" target="_blank">Poems, Prayers, & Promises</a></i>:<blockquote><center>It turns me on to think of growing old</center></blockquote>I have always loved Autumn and Winter. The long nights and cold wet days. The deep abiding rest the world moves into. All this really feeds my soul. I identify with these changes and appreciate the subtleties and vagaries of liminal times.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQYNuN9-kU6icxNdEPUEE6KlIxl5sqw7e7kD8GgIHq5AuSST5IH7ttcvMXAuhKJhVNFtMv6sxXlhClRPp-LP8Y97ILKWM9JEIbvNeT4gxFPtVIMOmNuZYhBGSgNnJ0AuMS9N37jQ/s1600/celtic+leaf+man.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQYNuN9-kU6icxNdEPUEE6KlIxl5sqw7e7kD8GgIHq5AuSST5IH7ttcvMXAuhKJhVNFtMv6sxXlhClRPp-LP8Y97ILKWM9JEIbvNeT4gxFPtVIMOmNuZYhBGSgNnJ0AuMS9N37jQ/s320/celtic+leaf+man.jpg" width="292" /></a></div>Here's to liminal today, and here's to liminal me!<br />
<br />
~ KeithCan Opener Boyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06074132164038079006noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19944141.post-5197691027010716442010-10-30T13:46:00.000-07:002010-10-30T13:46:56.250-07:00Marathon Training Week 23 of 23Week twenty-three is now history. I completed the marathon training program, and ran a marathon. <br />
<br />
Wow.<br />
<br />
On my 43rd birthday back in 2008 <a href="http://canopenerboy.blogspot.com/2008/11/miles-stones.html" target="_blank" title="Miles & Stones">I ran 10 miles</a>. It felt great.<br />
<br />
Monday 11/1/2010 is my 45th birthday, and I'm going for a run. How far? I have no idea. How long? I have no idea.<br />
<br />
I'm not going to wear a watch or a heart-rate monitor. I'm not going to plot a course or go back and try and figure it out on Google Maps. I'm just going to go for a run. When I get tired I'll stop and walk. When I feel like it I will run again. When I feel like being done, I'll come home. This will not be a training run, it will be a recreational run. My training runs are usually enjoyable -- but on Monday, that is going to be one great run!<br />
<br />
Thanks so much for reading all these posts and following my progress. As I mentioned in my last post, I have a couple races already scheduled, and I'm hoping to break 2:00 in the half-marathon. I don't plan to blog that training, but I'll post from time to time if something significant happens.<br />
<br />
As usual, I have the "boring stuff" posted below. But in case you're interested, if you add up all my training from 24th May through 30th October I ran over 530 miles, taking over 92 hours, and burned nearly 70,000 calories. To put that into perspective: if I started running at midnight on a Monday morning, I would finish on Thursday at 8:17 pm -- and I would have run from my house to the California border, and then back again, and then gone for another little 23.5 mile run! And, if all the calories came only from burning fat, I'd have lost 19.8 pounds...of fat!<br />
<br />
Here's the boring stuff:<br />
<br />
<b><i>Week 23 totals:</i></b><br />
Running Distance: 19.83 mi<br />
Running Time: 03:25:52 h:m:s<br />
Avg Speed: 5.8 mph<br />
Max Speed: 11.6 mph<br />
Avg HR: 147 bpm<br />
Max HR: 181 bpm<br />
Calories burned: 2,529<br />
<br />
Cycling Approx Distance: 00.0 mi<br />
Cycling Time: 00:00:00 h:m:s<br />
Approx Avg Speed 0 mph<br />
Avg HR: n/a bpm<br />
Max HR: n/a bpm<br />
<br />
And here's the link to week 23's <a href="http://connect.garmin.com/activity/54868438" target="_blank" title="Garmin Connect">"long" run</a> of 5 miles.<br />
<br />
<b><i>Sum totals for the 23 weeks:</i></b><br />
Running Sessions: 97<br />
Running Distance: 531.51 mi<br />
Running Time: 92:16:55 h:m:s<br />
Avg Speed: 5.8 mph<br />
Max Speed: 12.8 mph<br />
Avg HR: 149 bpm<br />
Max HR: 182 bpm<br />
Calories burned: 69,285<br />
<br />
Cycling Approx Distance: 207 mi<br />
Cycling Time: 10:52:50 h:m:s<br />
Approx Avg Speed 19 mph<br />
Avg HR: 127 bpm<br />
Max HR: 153 bpm<br />
<br />
<b><i>Monthly Running Mileage Totals:</i></b><br />
May: 23.68 mi (24th thru 31st)<br />
June: 95.02 mi<br />
July: 104.11 mi<br />
August: 102.53 mi<br />
September: 120.72 mi<br />
October: 85.45 mi (1st thru 30th)<br />
<br />
<b><i>Previous week's totals:</i></b><br />
<b><i>Week 22 totals:</i></b><br />
Running Distance: 13.45 mi<br />
Running Time: 02:19:46 h:m:s<br />
Avg Speed: 5.8 mph<br />
Max Speed: 14.1 mph<br />
Avg HR: 147 bpm<br />
Max HR: 177 bpm<br />
Calories burned: 1,710<br />
<br />
Cycling Approx Distance: 00.0 mi<br />
Cycling Time: 00:00:00 h:m:s<br />
Approx Avg Speed 0 mph<br />
Avg HR: n/a bpm<br />
Max HR: n/a bpm<br />
<br />
And here's the link to week 22's <a href="http://connect.garmin.com/activity/54117104" target="_blank" title="Garmin Connect">"long" run</a> of 4 miles.<br />
<br />
~ KeithCan Opener Boyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06074132164038079006noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19944141.post-19296027437595785232010-10-23T22:56:00.002-07:002010-10-24T08:34:08.479-07:00Portland Marathon 2010 -- reflections and memoriesAs I sit and type this, the marathon is a full 2 weeks in my rearview mirror. I had some computer glitches so I was unable to blog before now. As a result, all the stuff that was fresh in my mind is now not quite as fresh. Maybe that is a good thing because what has stuck with me are the few memories that perhaps are the most important. Here are the highlights.<br />
<br />
First and foremost, the biggest highlight has to be accomplishing a goal that has been 2+ years in the coming. I can't tell you how it felt to cross that finish line and know that I'm not just a runner, I'm a marathoner. Me -- the pudgy un-athletic kid grew up into a guy who, at age 44 (45 next week!) broke 4:30 in my first marathon!<br />
<br />
Another huge highlight (and major props) go to my wife Cathy for putting up with not only the mood swings of the last few weeks, but also my early-morning runs and early-evening bedtimes x 5+ months (not to mention hearing me rant about cross-training and rave about various running-related things all the time). She has been my number one fan and supporter.<br />
<br />
Major props also go to Tom & Dawn Bartel for coming out and supporting me. They met me at around mile 1.5, and then showed up multiple other times on the course. Tom was also there rooting me on at about mile 26.1 -- just before I turned the corner and faced the finish line. It was so great to have them there as my own, personal cheering section! (And while she was not there for me specifically, a special nod goes to Janel Roden who surprised me late in the course with a hoot and a holler!)<br />
<br />
Highlights of being out on the course were:<br />
<br />
IT RAINED THE ENTIRE 4.5 HOURS I WAS ON THE COURSE! I absolutely love running in the rain so it was a phenomenal treat, and clear evidence that God loves me! =O)<br />
<br />
The father/daughter pair running together.<br />
<br />
The young woman who was running in honor of her uncle Doug who had died in the last year.<br />
<br />
The 3-4 wheelchair racers I saw with heads down and super-buff arms propelling high-tech wheelchairs.<br />
<br />
The huge crowds of spectators -- especially the ones who read my bib that said "My First" and cheered me on with "Lookin' good My First! You got this!" and stuff like that. Also the guy who gave me 10 style points for my heel-kick while crossing a bridge.<br />
<br />
Not stopping to walk on the approach to the St. John's Bridge. That was cool to see all the other people stop and walk, but I didn't. I took plenty of walk breaks, but not there.<br />
<br />
The multiple bands, and TONS of volunteers who handed out electrolyte drinks, and water, and gel and vaseline and stuff.<br />
<br />
The other volunteers at the finish line who put a space-blanket around my shoulders, and a medal around my neck, and then gave me orange juice and other goodies while I was stil not quite in my right mind. Also huge props to the volunteers who were out so early taking our stuff and safely storing it away and then having it all organized so we could pick it up after the race!<br />
<br />
The biggest props still go to Cathy. After crossing the finish line, and getting my medal and blanket, I wandered around aimlessly for a moment and heard this angelic voice calling my name. Cathy was there at the finish line behind a fence with the rest of the spectators, and had taken the two finish line photos below. She was in awe and said very nice things to and about me. She even gave me a through-the-fence smooch!<br />
<br />
Here's a few shots from the race weekend.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjACRv5GXpb7VbCq2XgxAeIkJaBKuVpj1drEPHsvRsImcJHVGngTNCDWgUcyZzNzC-Zw8UuD19rQRrkKvLVYVUeCT7O5SMRV_ayxx7i8aGNYBtHvPl8aEWmkyH0LgQxV1HOCNIZ6g/s1600/photo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjACRv5GXpb7VbCq2XgxAeIkJaBKuVpj1drEPHsvRsImcJHVGngTNCDWgUcyZzNzC-Zw8UuD19rQRrkKvLVYVUeCT7O5SMRV_ayxx7i8aGNYBtHvPl8aEWmkyH0LgQxV1HOCNIZ6g/s320/photo.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjACRv5GXpb7VbCq2XgxAeIkJaBKuVpj1drEPHsvRsImcJHVGngTNCDWgUcyZzNzC-Zw8UuD19rQRrkKvLVYVUeCT7O5SMRV_ayxx7i8aGNYBtHvPl8aEWmkyH0LgQxV1HOCNIZ6g/s1600/photo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a>I saw this at the expo and almost bought it!</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjQkiou02zlS1kK0Kq1MMDUItQvhNvjRm7n5TibpDhkQdzSGmdWgLDvn9_7JfszwA7yyZFdjUlnsNcHQrr_WDsXLNAsLLgYM9-l518I_zJ84vnP6dKYHizW2js7MV4eSDYIrI7Qg/s1600/photo+5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjQkiou02zlS1kK0Kq1MMDUItQvhNvjRm7n5TibpDhkQdzSGmdWgLDvn9_7JfszwA7yyZFdjUlnsNcHQrr_WDsXLNAsLLgYM9-l518I_zJ84vnP6dKYHizW2js7MV4eSDYIrI7Qg/s320/photo+5.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Here I am the night before, all geared up with no place to go (yet!)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRpiP2PevXRK6OOdsNVVQy4_RhyphenhypheneiERwcrudC4Fq0AMdzLwyEMXmjB3XWz9PpHRGfx1ITWLwDm3iCHwI7I5tK-2dKxmPal_2Qk_5Z83xx5vma9rijjcg7MqXBqw1Qd02XihcureA/s1600/photo+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRpiP2PevXRK6OOdsNVVQy4_RhyphenhypheneiERwcrudC4Fq0AMdzLwyEMXmjB3XWz9PpHRGfx1ITWLwDm3iCHwI7I5tK-2dKxmPal_2Qk_5Z83xx5vma9rijjcg7MqXBqw1Qd02XihcureA/s320/photo+3.jpg" width="236" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Just before crossing the finish line (click the pic & zoom in)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqnCvaJlq24XZmoXPn4rfAqmVgEnmV0b_d_015KTqIW1DW2-Ix0hR4CCoopHsb2K9wEUHqNFeB4pvaGp6ZVckTUZE-a3Ga5I-ReZjxRil5_FsJCUa7ZRd_jfutOfxzKv3ZEycpXQ/s1600/photo+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqnCvaJlq24XZmoXPn4rfAqmVgEnmV0b_d_015KTqIW1DW2-Ix0hR4CCoopHsb2K9wEUHqNFeB4pvaGp6ZVckTUZE-a3Ga5I-ReZjxRil5_FsJCUa7ZRd_jfutOfxzKv3ZEycpXQ/s320/photo+2.jpg" width="236" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Just as I'm crossing the finish line (click the pic & zoom in)</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp7Bd1icoP-s2-iFapLxtFMjetDEtvlIMI143hRvacPe_8WxFy6xPksq6B61Gftn4WIfp27hw7x0LG5fPY_V9wX3OsHMEJOTSxIbaIt1YipuYX4llj5VPUUeOoeloO09YBy6eypQ/s1600/photo+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp7Bd1icoP-s2-iFapLxtFMjetDEtvlIMI143hRvacPe_8WxFy6xPksq6B61Gftn4WIfp27hw7x0LG5fPY_V9wX3OsHMEJOTSxIbaIt1YipuYX4llj5VPUUeOoeloO09YBy6eypQ/s320/photo+4.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">My number one fan and supporter!</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyW1rO0ZK5T9vwvG2YR_3U1AMcobUNHyT_6tv6C2SPbXtZxPuKXgTlFt3NNdrgB0DG9tRMCzM7lIo6EImdYSITDBzKm8bzmaiq4arKHhvE65_6yPG112tHnIDvuTUMuttQKKWUuA/s1600/photo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyW1rO0ZK5T9vwvG2YR_3U1AMcobUNHyT_6tv6C2SPbXtZxPuKXgTlFt3NNdrgB0DG9tRMCzM7lIo6EImdYSITDBzKm8bzmaiq4arKHhvE65_6yPG112tHnIDvuTUMuttQKKWUuA/s320/photo.jpg" width="236" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">My ad-hoc coach, and encourager Tom!</div><br />
For the nerds like me, you can see the Garmin data for my run <a href="http://connect.garmin.com/activity/53555887" target="_Blank" title="Check it out!">here</a>.<br />
<br />
~ KeithCan Opener Boyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06074132164038079006noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19944141.post-84939808371586819772010-10-22T12:00:00.000-07:002010-10-23T22:03:52.093-07:00Marathon Training Week 22 of 23Week twenty two was a little funny. My body got so used to running so much, and now I've had so much rest and recovery, one of the hardest things is not to run too fast. I actually have to *work* not to run too fast (which, for me, is around 8:45 or so -- instead of my usual 9:45-ish)!<br />
<br />
I have my sights set on my next two races. First, the <a href="http://www.runwildadventures.com/index.php?p=1_13_Shellburg-Falls-Trail-Run" target="_blank" title="Run WIld Adventures">Shellburg Falls Train Run</a>. Then, I'm going to go for the <a href="http://www.wvroadrunners.org/cascadehalf/" target="_blank" title="Willamette Valley RoadRunners">Cascade Half Marathon</a> again, and this time, see if I can break the 2:00 mark. Last year I hit 2:02, and would have made the 2:00 mark but sort of bonked in the last 2-3 miles. You can see that race <a href="http://connect.garmin.com/activity/22623901" target="_blank" title="Garmin">here</a>. Seriously -- look at my splits -- I was *so* close, until those last few miles. But now I'm another year stronger and another year better-trained, and I'm hoping to be better at following the training program this time. It's a bit abbreviated since I will only have 11 weeks instead of a full 16, but we'll see! This time it will include some track work, and I'll be doing some core work as well on my cross-training days.<br />
<br />
Here's the boring stuff:<br />
<br />
<b><i>Week 22 totals:</i></b><br />
Running Distance: 13.45 mi<br />
Running Time: 02:19:46 h:m:s<br />
Avg Speed: 5.8 mph<br />
Max Speed: 14.1 mph<br />
Avg HR: 147 bpm<br />
Max HR: 177 bpm<br />
Calories burned: 1,710<br />
<br />
Cycling Approx Distance: 00.0 mi<br />
Cycling Time: 00:00:00 h:m:s<br />
Approx Avg Speed 0 mph<br />
Avg HR: n/a bpm<br />
Max HR: n/a bpm<br />
<br />
And here's the link to week 22's <a href="http://connect.garmin.com/activity/54117104" target="_blank" title="Garmin Connect">"long" run</a> of 4 miles.<br />
<br />
<b><i>Sum totals so far:</i></b><br />
Running Distance: 511.69 mi -- I broke 500 miles!<br />
Running Time: 88:51:02 h:m:s<br />
Avg Speed: 5.8 mph<br />
Max Speed: 12.8 mph<br />
Avg HR: 149 bpm<br />
Max HR: 182 bpm<br />
Calories burned: 66,756<br />
<br />
Cycling Approx Distance: 207 mi<br />
Cycling Time: 10:52:50 h:m:s<br />
Approx Avg Speed 19 mph<br />
Avg HR: 127 bpm<br />
Max HR: 153 bpm<br />
<br />
<b><i>Monthly Running Mileage Totals:</i></b><br />
May: 23.68 mi (24th thru 31st)<br />
June: 95.02 mi<br />
July: 104.11 mi<br />
August: 102.53 mi<br />
September: 120.72<br />
October: 65.63 (1st thru 16th)<br />
<br />
<b><i>Previous week's totals:</i></b><br />
<b><i>Week 21 totals:</i></b><br />
Running Distance: 30.23 mi<br />
Running Time: 05:08:57 h:m:s<br />
Avg Speed: 5.9 mph<br />
Max Speed: 10.2 mph<br />
Avg HR: 152 bpm<br />
Max HR: 173 bpm<br />
Calories burned: 3,950<br />
<br />
Cycling Approx Distance: 00.0 mi<br />
Cycling Time: 00:00:00 h:m:s<br />
Approx Avg Speed 0 mph<br />
Avg HR: n/a bpm<br />
Max HR: n/a bpm<br />
<br />
And here's the link to week 21's <a href="http://connect.garmin.com/activity/53555898" target="_blank" title="Garmin Connect">"long" run</a> of 3 miles.<br />
<br />
~ KeithCan Opener Boyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06074132164038079006noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19944141.post-52441514029066250442010-10-16T12:00:00.001-07:002010-10-23T21:41:14.448-07:00Marathon Training Week 21 of 23Week twenty one was not really a training week as much as a race day and a recovery week!<br />
<br />
I ran the Portland Marathon on Sunday 10-10-10, and my next-scheduled training run for recovery week was not until Saturday 10-16. I could have done some cross-training but, well, we all know how I've felt about cross-training up to this point, so why break a good streak. I do plan to cross-train next time I train for something...which will be soon. (more on that later)<br />
<br />
Here's the boring stuff:<br />
<br />
<b><i>Week 21 totals:</i></b><br />
Running Distance: 30.23 mi<br />
Running Time: 05:08:57 h:m:s<br />
Avg Speed: 5.9 mph<br />
Max Speed: 10.2 mph<br />
Avg HR: 152 bpm<br />
Max HR: 173 bpm<br />
Calories burned: 3,950<br />
<br />
Cycling Approx Distance: 00.0 mi<br />
Cycling Time: 00:00:00 h:m:s<br />
Approx Avg Speed 0 mph<br />
Avg HR: n/a bpm<br />
Max HR: n/a bpm<br />
<br />
And here's the link to week 21's <a href="http://connect.garmin.com/activity/53555898" target="_blank" title="Garmin Connect">"long" run</a> of 3 miles.<br />
<br />
<b><i>Sum totals so far:</i></b><br />
Running Distance: 498.24 mi<br />
Running Time: 86:31:16 h:m:s<br />
Avg Speed: 5.8 mph<br />
Max Speed: 12.8 mph<br />
Avg HR: 149 bpm<br />
Max HR: 182 bpm<br />
Calories burned: 65,046<br />
<br />
Cycling Approx Distance: 207 mi<br />
Cycling Time: 10:52:50 h:m:s<br />
Approx Avg Speed 19 mph<br />
Avg HR: 127 bpm<br />
Max HR: 153 bpm<br />
<br />
<b><i>Monthly Running Mileage Totals:</i></b><br />
May: 23.68 mi (24th thru 31st)<br />
June: 95.02 mi<br />
July: 104.11 mi<br />
August: 102.53 mi<br />
September: 120.72<br />
October (1st thru 16th): 52.18<br />
<br />
<b><i>Previous week's totals:</i></b><br />
<b><i>Week 20 totals:</i></b><br />
Running Distance: 15.01 mi<br />
Running Time: 02:36:00 h:m:s<br />
Avg Speed: 5.8 mph<br />
Max Speed: 13.7 mph<br />
Avg HR: 141 bpm<br />
Max HR: 178 bpm<br />
Calories burned: 1,889<br />
<br />
Cycling Approx Distance: 00.0 mi<br />
Cycling Time: 00:00:00 h:m:s<br />
Approx Avg Speed 0 mph<br />
Avg HR: n/a bpm<br />
Max HR: n/a bpm<br />
<br />
And here's the link to week 20's <a href="http://connect.garmin.com/activity/52253492" target="_blank" title="Garmin Connect">"long" run</a> of 20 minutes.<br />
<br />
~ KeithCan Opener Boyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06074132164038079006noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19944141.post-57336830121242559042010-10-09T08:58:00.001-07:002010-10-09T08:58:53.031-07:00Marathon Training Week 20 of 23Week twenty is now over -- my last official training run before the marathon was this morning.<br />
<br />
Tomorrow is race day.<br />
<br />
I've done all my reading and resting. I've done all my training and strategizing. Now I just need to go run the race; run *my* race.<br />
<br />
You can follow my progress as of 0700 Pacific Time tomorrow, 10-10-10, by putting in my name and bib number (790) <a href="http://www.portlandmarathon.org" target=_blank" title="Portland Marathon Official Site">here</a>.<br />
<br />
Here's the boring stuff:<br />
<br />
<b><i>Week 20 totals:</i></b><br />
Running Distance: 15.01 mi<br />
Running Time: 02:36:00 h:m:s<br />
Avg Speed: 5.8 mph<br />
Max Speed: 13.7 mph<br />
Avg HR: 141 bpm<br />
Max HR: 178 bpm<br />
Calories burned: 1,889<br />
<br />
Cycling Approx Distance: 00.0 mi<br />
Cycling Time: 00:00:00 h:m:s<br />
Approx Avg Speed 0 mph<br />
Avg HR: n/a bpm<br />
Max HR: n/a bpm<br />
<br />
And here's the link to week 20's <a href="http://connect.garmin.com/activity/52253492" target="_blank" title="Garmin Connect">"long" run</a> of 20 minutes.<br />
<br />
<b><i>Sum totals so far:</i></b><br />
Running Distance: 468.00 mi<blockquote>That's Salem, OR to Sequim, WA -- via Seattle, WA, & thru both Vancouver, BC & Victoria, BC!!!</blockquote>Running Time: 81:22:19 h:m:s<br />
Avg Speed: 5.8 mph<br />
Max Speed: 12.8 mph<br />
Avg HR: 149 bpm<br />
Max HR: 182 bpm<br />
Calories burned: 61,096<br />
<br />
Cycling Approx Distance: 207 mi<br />
Cycling Time: 10:52:50 h:m:s<br />
Approx Avg Speed 19 mph<br />
Avg HR: 127 bpm<br />
Max HR: 153 bpm<br />
<br />
<b><i>Monthly Running Mileage Totals:</i></b><br />
May: 23.68 mi (24th thru 31st)<br />
June: 95.02 mi<br />
July: 104.11 mi<br />
August: 102.53 mi<br />
September: 120.72<br />
October (1st thru 9th): 21.94<br />
<br />
<b><i>Previous week's totals:</i></b><br />
<b><i>Week 19 totals:</i></b><br />
Running Distance: 17.52 mi<br />
Running Time: 03:00:44 h:m:s<br />
Avg Speed: 5.8 mph<br />
Max Speed: 22.6 mph<br />
Avg HR: 147 bpm<br />
Max HR: 178 bpm<br />
Calories burned: 2,231<br />
<br />
Cycling Approx Distance: 00.0 mi<br />
Cycling Time: 00:00:00 h:m:s<br />
Approx Avg Speed 0 mph<br />
Avg HR: n/a bpm<br />
Max HR: n/a bpm<br />
<br />
And here's the link to week 19's <a href="http://connect.garmin.com/activity/51376141" target="_blank" title="Garmin Connect">long run</a> of 6 miles.<br />
<br />
~ KeithCan Opener Boyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06074132164038079006noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19944141.post-8279934632241380652010-10-02T10:40:00.003-07:002010-10-02T10:40:14.646-07:00Marathon Training Week 19 of 23Week nineteen -- one week to go. 8 days from now I will be on the course, giving it my all. Just 4 more runs: Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday for 30 minutes, and then Saturday for 20 minutes. Today's 6-miler was a walk in the park, and while my nerves are wondering "can I really do it?" my mind and spirit are repeating what everything I've read and heard has told me: "Trust your training" We'll see!<br />
<br />
Here's the boring stuff:<br />
<br />
<b><i>Week 19 totals:</i></b><br />
Running Distance: 17.52 mi<br />
Running Time: 03:00:44 h:m:s<br />
Avg Speed: 5.8 mph<br />
Max Speed: 22.6 mph<br />
Avg HR: 147 bpm<br />
Max HR: 178 bpm<br />
Calories burned: 2,231<br />
<br />
Cycling Approx Distance: 00.0 mi<br />
Cycling Time: 00:00:00 h:m:s<br />
Approx Avg Speed 0 mph<br />
Avg HR: n/a bpm<br />
Max HR: n/a bpm<br />
<br />
And here's the link to week 19's <a href="http://connect.garmin.com/activity/51376141" target="_blank" title="Garmin Connect">long run</a> of 6 miles.<br />
<br />
<b><i>Sum totals so far:</i></b><br />
Running Distance: 453.00 mi<br />
Running Time: 78:46:19 h:m:s<br />
Avg Speed: 5.8 mph<br />
Max Speed: 12.8 mph<br />
Avg HR: 149 bpm<br />
Max HR: 182 bpm<br />
Calories burned: 59,207<br />
<br />
Cycling Approx Distance: 207 mi<br />
Cycling Time: 10:52:50 h:m:s<br />
Approx Avg Speed 19 mph<br />
Avg HR: 127 bpm<br />
Max HR: 153 bpm<br />
<br />
<b><i>Monthly Running Mileage Totals:</i></b><br />
May: 23.68 mi (24th thru 31st)<br />
June: 95.02 mi<br />
July: 104.11 mi<br />
August: 102.53 mi<br />
September: 120.72<br />
October (1st thru 2nd): 6.94<br />
<br />
<b><i>Previous week's totals:</i></b><br />
<b><i>Week 18 totals:</i></b><br />
Running Distance: 19.52 mi<br />
Running Time: 03:18:57 h:m:s<br />
Avg Speed: 5.9 mph<br />
Max Speed: 12.2 mph<br />
Avg HR: 152 bpm<br />
Max HR: 180 bpm<br />
Calories burned: 2,479<br />
<br />
Cycling Approx Distance: 00.0 mi<br />
Cycling Time: 00:00:00 h:m:s<br />
Approx Avg Speed 0 mph<br />
Avg HR: n/a bpm<br />
Max HR: n/a bpm<br />
<br />
And here's the link to week 18's <a href="http://connect.garmin.com/activity/50460145" target="_blank" title="Garmin Connect">long run</a> of 10 miles.<br />
<br />
~ KeithCan Opener Boyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06074132164038079006noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19944141.post-15181706618931992762010-09-26T12:24:00.001-07:002010-09-26T12:26:05.527-07:00Marathon Training Week 18 of 23Week eighteen -- the taper has started! Today I ran "only" 10 miles. It was a harder run than I expected. Not sure why that is, although in part it may be because last week I ran 20! Also, if you look at my splits I went out a little fast. I've decided that, although I don't have a specific time goal for the marathon, I would like to keep the first 13 miles at right around 10:00/mile. That will leave me some room in the last half of the race to do some negative splits if I feel like it. We'll see!<br />
<br />
Here's the boring stuff:<br />
<br />
<b><i>Week 18 totals:</i></b><br />
Running Distance: 19.52 mi<br />
Running Time: 03:18:57 h:m:s<br />
Avg Speed: 5.9 mph<br />
Max Speed: 12.2 mph<br />
Avg HR: 152 bpm<br />
Max HR: 180 bpm<br />
Calories burned: 2,479<br />
<br />
Cycling Approx Distance: 00.0 mi<br />
Cycling Time: 00:00:00 h:m:s<br />
Approx Avg Speed 0 mph<br />
Avg HR: n/a bpm<br />
Max HR: n/a bpm<br />
<br />
And here's the link to week 18's <a href="http://connect.garmin.com/activity/50460145" target="_blank" title="Garmin Connect">long run</a> of 10 miles.<br />
<br />
<b><i>Sum totals so far:</i></b><br />
Running Distance: 435.47 mi<br />
Running Time: 75:45:34 h:m:s<br />
Avg Speed: 5.7 mph<br />
Max Speed: 12.8 mph<br />
Avg HR: 149 bpm<br />
Max HR: 182 bpm<br />
Calories burned: 56,976<br />
<br />
Cycling Approx Distance: 207 mi<br />
Cycling Time: 10:52:50 h:m:s<br />
Approx Avg Speed 19 mph<br />
Avg HR: 127 bpm<br />
Max HR: 153 bpm<br />
<br />
<b><i>Monthly Running Mileage Totals:</i></b><br />
May: 23.68 mi (24th thru 31st)<br />
June: 95.02 mi<br />
July: 104.11 mi<br />
August: 102.53 mi<br />
September: 110.13 (1st thru 25th!) -- my 3rd consecutive 100-mile month<br />
<br />
<b><i>Previous week's totals:</i></b><br />
<b><i>Week 17 totals:</i></b><br />
Running Distance: 39.28 mi<br />
Running Time: 06:50:41 h:m:s<br />
Avg Speed: 5.7 mph<br />
Max Speed: 12.4 mph<br />
Avg HR: 150 bpm<br />
Max HR: 175 bpm<br />
Calories burned: 5,088<br />
<br />
Cycling Approx Distance: 00.0 mi<br />
Cycling Time: 00:00:00 h:m:s<br />
Approx Avg Speed 0 mph<br />
Avg HR: n/a bpm<br />
Max HR: n/a bpm<br />
<br />
And here's the link to week 17's <a href="http://connect.garmin.com/activity/49523488" target="_blank" title="Garmin Connect">long run</a> of 20 miles.<br />
<br />
~ KeithCan Opener Boyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06074132164038079006noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19944141.post-77932353933580258672010-09-18T14:00:00.003-07:002010-09-26T12:27:44.271-07:00Marathon Training Week 17 of 23Week seventeen was momentous. My long-run was 20 miles -- the furthest I've ever run. (and my wife was away on business, and I had a tremendously busy week at work, which is why I'm almost a week late in posting this, as it is Saturday morning the following week, just before my 10-miler as I start my taper toward race day). My 20-miler was run at around the same time as my nephew Caleb was running the Equinox Ultra in Alaska where he makes his home. He's never run an ultra before -- this one is a 50k, and he's never even run a marathon before. He's one of those guys who came out of the birth canal with 2% body fat, and a natural inclination for anything athletic. I'd hate him for that, but it wasn't his fault to be born an athletic prodigy. Plus, he's one of the nicest guys in the world. And, I happen to know, he puked at the end of his run, which means he owes me $5! =O)<br />
<br />
My 20-miler was tremendous practice for race day, for a couple different reasons.<blockquote><i><b>On race day, I will also run further than I've ever run before.</blockquote></i></b>The overall distance was a part of it, but not all.<br />
<br />
I had the unexpected pleasure of meeting someone at around mile 5 who ran with me for awhile. We noted a number of similarities. Jack is also training for the Portland Marathon, which will be his second. We had roughly the same pace, so we chatted and got to know one another more. He's also been running only a couple years, which was nice, since we connected as newbies. There were differences though. Jack was also 60 -- a full 15 years older than me, and keeping up with me quite nicely, which was a little demoralizing, but I let it go. It was good practice -- one of the things we discussed while running along was how unique running is as a sport, in terms of the athletes who participate. Sure, the elites all have a certain look to them, but the rest of us in the pack? You can't really look at someone and say "Oh, man, I'm totally gonna beat that old overweight lady" -- you just might see her smiling away, zipping past you after the turn-around, looking fresh as a daisy. Also, you can't look at someone 15 years younger, carrying a lot less weight, and think "No way could I keep up with him!" -- 'cause here Jack and I were, trotting together, two middle-aged adult-onset athletes. So, as I prepare to run 26.2 in less than 3 weeks, it is good for me to remember that, like books & covers, runners can't be judged by outward appearances. <blockquote><i><b>On race day, I will need to run *MY* race, not anyone else's.</blockquote></i></b>Yes, I will pass some folks, but I will also be passed, and I need to not get so competitive that I allow myself to waste energy, either physical or mental. And speaking of energy...<br />
<br />
Jack was a nice guy, and it was good to practice chatting while running sub-10:00 miles, with my usual 1-min walk break in between. But I'm used to running alone, and not using extra energy chatting. At around mile 10 our courses diverged and I was thankful to have the last half all to myself. I'd had a clif bar and a banana about 2 hours before starting, and a clif shot at mile 4 & 8. At mile 12 I had a caffeinated clif shot, and was feeling good; tired, but good. Around mile 15 I was getting very tired, and it didn't dawn on me until almost mile 16 that it was way past time to kick in the mental game. On my 16-miler and 18-miler, I was closer to the end by that point in the run, so it wasn't a big deal. This time it was different. I had further to go, but it was also simply another day, and I had to account for that as well. We al know the story about the frog in the pot. My tiredness had krept up on my so slowly that I forgot how much energy I *knew* I had left in me. Sort of like timing my fueling and hydration, I need to also time my mental game, and give myself little confidence-boosting reminders as I go. <blockquote><i><b>On race day I will draw deep from inside myself to pull out all the stops and accomplish this goal</blockquote></i></b>I can't let my body talk my mind into giving up. Quite the contrary, I need to use my mind to convince my body I have way more in me than I ever imagined, and this little 26.2 miler is only the beginning.<br />
<br />
Now, I'm headed out the door to run a little 10-miler.<br />
<br />
Here's the boring stuff:<br />
<br />
<b><i>Week 17 totals:</i></b><br />
Running Distance: 39.28 mi -- almost double last week's!<br />
Running Time: 06:50:41 h:m:s<br />
Avg Speed: 5.7 mph<br />
Max Speed: 12.4 mph<br />
Avg HR: 150 bpm<br />
Max HR: 175 bpm<br />
Calories burned: 5,088 -- Whoa!<br />
<br />
Cycling Approx Distance: 00.0 mi<br />
Cycling Time: 00:00:00 h:m:s<br />
Approx Avg Speed 0 mph<br />
Avg HR: n/a bpm<br />
Max HR: n/a bpm<br />
<br />
And here's the link to week 17's <a href="http://connect.garmin.com/activity/49523488" target="_blank" title="Garmin Connect">long run</a> of 20 miles.<br />
<br />
<b><i>Sum totals so far:</i></b><br />
Running Distance: 415.95 mi<br />
Running Time: 72:26:37 h:m:s -- over 3 days of running!<br />
Avg Speed: 5.7 mph<br />
Max Speed: 12.8 mph<br />
Avg HR: 149 bpm<br />
Max HR: 182 bpm<br />
Calories burned: 54,497 -- Whoa!<br />
<br />
Cycling Approx Distance: 207 mi<br />
Cycling Time: 10:52:50 h:m:s<br />
Approx Avg Speed 19 mph<br />
Avg HR: 127 bpm<br />
Max HR: 153 bpm<br />
<br />
<b><i>Monthly Running Mileage Totals:</i></b><br />
May: 23.68 mi (24th thru 31st)<br />
June: 95.02 mi<br />
July: 104.11 mi<br />
August: 102.53 mi<br />
September: 90.62 (1st thru 18th!)<br />
<br />
<b><i>Previous week's totals:</i></b><br />
<b><i>Week 16 totals:</i></b><br />
Running Distance: 20.9 mi<br />
Running Time: 03:33:48 h:m:s<br />
Avg Speed: 5.9 mph<br />
Max Speed: 12.6 mph<br />
Avg HR: 151 bpm<br />
Max HR: 182 bpm<br />
Calories burned: 2,685<br />
<br />
Cycling Approx Distance: 00.0 mi<br />
Cycling Time: 00:00:00 h:m:s<br />
Approx Avg Speed 0 mph<br />
Avg HR: n/a bpm<br />
Max HR: n/a bpm<br />
<br />
And here's the link to week 16's <a href="http://connect.garmin.com/activity/48550389" target="_blank" title="Garmin Connect">long run</a> of 8 miles.<br />
<br />
~ KeithCan Opener Boyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06074132164038079006noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19944141.post-69389731157019295152010-09-12T16:29:00.001-07:002010-09-12T16:30:05.419-07:00Marathon Training Week 16 of 23Week sixteen was uneventful, which was fine by me. I got my 20-miler comin' up so it was nice not to have to focus too hard this week.<br />
<br />
Here's the boring stuff:<br />
<br />
<b><i>Week 16 totals:</i></b><br />
Running Distance: 20.9 mi<br />
Running Time: 03:33:48 h:m:s<br />
Avg Speed: 5.9 mph<br />
Max Speed: 12.6 mph<br />
Avg HR: 151 bpm<br />
Max HR: 182 bpm<br />
Calories burned: 2,685<br />
<br />
Cycling Approx Distance: 00.0 mi<br />
Cycling Time: 00:00:00 h:m:s<br />
Approx Avg Speed 0 mph<br />
Avg HR: n/a bpm<br />
Max HR: n/a bpm<br />
<br />
And here's the link to week 16's <a href="http://connect.garmin.com/activity/48550389" target="_blank" title="Garmin Connect">long run</a> of 8 miles.<br />
<br />
<b><i>Sum totals so far:</i></b><br />
Running Distance: 376.68 mi<br />
Running Time: 65:35:55 h:m:s<br />
Avg Speed: 5.7 mph<br />
Max Speed: 12.8 mph<br />
Avg HR: 149 bpm<br />
Max HR: 182 bpm<br />
Calories burned: 49,409<br />
<br />
Cycling Approx Distance: 207 mi<br />
Cycling Time: 10:52:50 h:m:s<br />
Approx Avg Speed 19 mph<br />
Avg HR: 127 bpm<br />
Max HR: 153 bpm<br />
<br />
<b><i>Monthly Running Mileage Totals:</i></b><br />
May: 23.68 mi (24th thru 31st)<br />
June: 95.02 mi<br />
July: 104.11 mi<br />
August: 102.53 mi<br />
September: 51.34 (1st thru 11th!)<br />
<br />
<b><i>Previous week's totals:</i></b><br />
<b><i>Week 15 totals:</i></b><br />
Running Distance: 37.47 mi<br />
Running Time: 06:29:46 h:m:s<br />
Avg Speed: 5.8 mph<br />
Max Speed: 11.5 mph<br />
Avg HR: 153 bpm<br />
Max HR: 172 bpm<br />
Calories burned: 4,833<br />
<br />
Cycling Approx Distance: 00.0 mi<br />
Cycling Time: 00:00:00 h:m:s<br />
Approx Avg Speed 0 mph<br />
Avg HR: n/a bpm<br />
Max HR: n/a bpm<br />
<br />
And here's the link to week 15's <a href="http://connect.garmin.com/activity/47562173" target="_blank" title="Garmin Connect">long run</a> of 18 miles.<br />
<br />
~ KeithCan Opener Boyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06074132164038079006noreply@blogger.com0