2008 in review

I may have mentioned that 2008 was a pretty mixed year... although my current theory is that the awesomest part of 2008 was actually just the tail end of the mostly super-awesome 2007, or perhaps to reframe, we had a glorious year of the boar, and the year of the rat mostly sucked balls.

Anyway, here we go.

Highlights:

• 3 weeks in Hawai'i. (January -- tail of year of the Boar) Totally ruled.
• All-Balboa weekend in Cleveland -- great fun.
• Completed the Cape Cod marathon in 4:08:30
• New President! w00t!
• a week in Italy with my parents. A little rushed, but overall good.

Lowlights:

• ankle injury that has put me out of commission 6 weeks and counting.
• saying goodbye to our cat in December after he went through the final stages of kidney failure. He'd been my buddy for 16 of the 17 years that I've lived in New England. We are still sad.

Stats:

• Total days sick: 38 (Two spans, including combo bronchitis/sinusitis in July and most of the entire month of my birthday and up to the day of the marathon.)
• Birthdays of consequence: 1 (Let's just say that I am no longer in my 30s, and that this has not proven to be a good thing to date.)
• Cities visited: Los Angeles, Las Vegas, Chicago, Cleveland, Raleigh, Florence, Venice, Rome, Honolulu, Hilo, Lihue, Manhattan, Fergus, Buffalo, Kansas City
• States Visited: 9 (CA, HI, IL, KS, NC, NH, NV, NY, OH)
• Countries Visited: 2 (Canada, Italy)
• Airplane legs: 31
• Concerts attended: 3 (80s punk bands: 1)
• Miles run: 806 (in 6 states)
• Weddings attended: 3
• Dance workshops attended: 2
• Ultimate frisbee tournaments: 4
• Ultimate frisbee tournaments (>200mi away): 2
• Ultimate Frisbee tournament injuries: 1
• (tournaments >200mi away, lifetime: 6)
• (injuries at tournaments >200mi away, lifetime: 3)
• Awesome people to be married to: 1 (makes it all better.)

Self-discovery and forgetfulness

Found this in the archives, dated March 23, 2005:

Sometimes self-discovery is a lot like figuring our where the wall is by banging your head against it.

I know that 2005 had a few rough spots (jeez, every year seems to have a few of them) and I have a vague idea what it was about (something about establishing boundaries, dealing the others), but I'm happy to have forgotten the details of the experience and simply hope that I've at least internalized the lesson.

The Potential for Irony

So, sometime last year, I decided that it'd be a good idea to run a marathon.

Actually, let me rephrase that: sometime last year, I somehow got it into my head that I should run a marathon.

In 1998, I was planning on running the Bay State Marathon with a bunch of people from work. Ah, the halcyon days of my early career in computer engineering, working at a company that had its own staffed fitness center. We'd take two-hour lunches and play some hoops or go for a run, maybe do some lifting, grab a shower, and then eat at our (respective) desks.

Anyway, that year a bunch of people decided to train together for the marathon, myself included. It was maybe a month out from the actual race, when somebody asked me how many miles I was doing. I can no longer recall my answer, but I do recall that the person who had asked the question didn't think that I was running nearly enough miles to be ready for the race.

That weekend I did a 7 mile run and a 13 mile run, and by the end of the second run I had a sharp pain in one of my knees that forced me into a slow, awkward stride. I had a hard time walking the following week. Shortly thereafter, I managed to put myself out of my misery by spraining one of my ankles playing ultimate frisbee.

I quit. And vowed to never be so stupid as to try to run another marathon. The experience taught me that my body just wasn't designed for that kind of abuse.

Fast-forward 6 years to the fall of 2004. I'm at another company, post-dot-com bubble. We don't have a staffed gym, but we still have a weight room and a shower, which is all I ever needed, really. Long lunches playing disc and going running, maybe a little lifting followed by a shower and lunch at my desk. (Nevertheless, slightly less halcyon, FWIW.) And there's a small group of runners that are talking about running a half-marathon in the spring.

I'm reluctant. It does have the word "marathon" in it, after all.

Then, a confluence of events. Well, event. I get laid off from my job. Meaning, lots of free time. And a friend willing to be a running partner.

We sign up for two races, and this time, older and wiser, I actually set up a training plan. (And there are far worse things to do with your time between jobs than having a set training schedule.) And sticking with the plan, both races go pretty well, all things considered.

Which I must admit was somewhat unexpected.

A little less than two years later and about a year ago, perhaps a few weeks before finishing the massage therapy program, we were asked in class to do a goal-setting exercise. And I thought to myself:

Y'know, I'm getting old...
gonna hit one of those big milestones next year...
maybe I could... RUN A MARATHON to prove that I'm not "old" ...
yeah! there's an idea...

And now, here I am, one month into a new training schedule.

The crazy part is that I've been running in the mornings before work. There's no longer a shower at the office, so I could only run in the afternoon on weekends or days that I was working from home. And running after work is suboptimal because, being winter, it's dark outside (not to mention cold and often icy), the gym is usually packed, and when things run late, I'm also wicked hungry. So any number of things can tank a workout.

So I switched to mornings. It forces me to do the workout. And because I know I have to start working at a reasonable hour (say 10am, worst case), it forces me to start early. And for the most part, it's worked pretty well: I haven't missed any planned workouts, the regular workouts have helped improve my mood (it's always been a form of self-medication for me), and on average, I'm actually getting to the office earlier than I used to. The primary downside is that it's often colder in the mornings (say 10°F instead of 28°F) in which case I'm stuck going to the gym. (But it isn't any worse than going to the gym after work, and it's less crowded in the morning.)

I've also found that my sleeping habits have finally settled down. For the most part, I've been falling asleep pretty easily and on the occasions where I do wake-up in the middle of the night, I haven't had any trouble falling back asleep. Of course, the down side to that is that a lot of nights, I'll be wanting to go to bed at 9pm, which is just sad. It really messes with the social calendar, although I'm hoping to eventually adjust. Actually stayed up past 11 last night! Woo, uh, hoo...

So, I've opened myself up to the potential for some serious irony. The obvious one:

Things seem to be going pretty well so far, but I have had a nagging hamstring problem since last fall which may well be due to an adductor injury last summer. It seems to be holding out alright, but of course, I'm only a month into the training plan so far. It may be that when I get to the 16 mile or 18 mile runs, my body will just give up and stop working. So it may be that this exercise to prove that I'm NOT old may just prove that I am. Subjunctive oops.

The other potential irony?

Well, what do I mean when I say "old?" What do I think of?

I've already mentioned the part about the body breaking down, unable to handle the rigors of youthful exuberance. Or running several hundred miles (possibly over a thousand) over the course of the next several months. There's also a "responsible adult" component... I'm already guilty of some of that -- got a mortgage, saving for retirement, think about the consequences to your actions (look before you leap... and we won't talk about exactly how I got that adductor injury last year). But there's also the teetotaling, conservative, restrained old guy -- too old to be silly, too old to have any fun, too old to stay out late at night...

um, OOPS.

Eye of the beholder

Towards the end of my run yesterday, I was on a section of the Charles River Walkway that passes through Waltham as it approached dusk. The light was already starting to fade, but I noticed a short woman and her dog walking slowly along one of the larger grassy areas that bordered the path.

I assumed that she had just gotten up or had simply been standing motionless because I hadn't seen her until her movement caught my attention. And in my head, my brain immediately came to the conclusion that she must have been quietly taking in the sunset, admiring the late summer sky as the colors slowly faded beyond the trees. She walked casually, and I imagined that she was lost in thoughts about the transient beauty in the world, the value of each moment in the sea of moments in our lives.

I took a moment for myself to appreciate the failing light. And as I passed her, I noticed...

...that she was talking on her cellphone.

So I guess all that other stuff was just me.

POSTSCRIPT

A few minutes later I saw two girls walking together on the sidewalk who seemed to be engaged in a bubbly conversation with one another. (At least, that's how it sounded to me as I approached.) And as I passed... Nope. Just one girl talking on her cell phone, and her... friend(?) quietly accompanying her, destination unknown.

TECHNOLOGY: bringing people together.

picking blueberries

Originally uploaded by tallasiandude.

Not the worst way to spend a Saturday afternoon.

Updates

Originally uploaded by foodnerd.

I haven't felt like I've had much time to post, or had much to post about, but I finally got around to updating the About page. Quite a bit has changed, and I guess I'm a little sad that I didn't bother to save some of what used to be there. But one of life's lessons is that, oftentimes, once you've done something, it can't really be undone. And at that point, you just have to let go and move on.

Anyway, all the big craziness of the year is finally over. Well, mostly, anyway. The wedding, the travel, the house sale, school, massage certification and licensing. There's still plenty of leftover crazy to go around -- we've got thank you notes to write and we're finally starting to take some baby steps getting the new house in proper order, but otherwise it's just everyday normal crazy.

In the last week, I took my car to the shop, had the SOOTTAD's car insured and registered in Massachusetts, played some ultimate, worked in the garden, ran shopping errands, went to a BBQ, a baby shower, a birthday party and a roofdeck concert eavesdrop (the Police concert at Fenway Park) and finally broke down and installed the window A/C* units in the bedroom and the SOOTTAD's office.

There always seems to be something. We're still busy, although I'm happy to say that it doesn't feel crushingly so. Maybe there's something about our lives that really is unusual or extraordinary, but in this, I think it's just business as usual. There will always be things that we need to take care of, planning, working, fixing, building. We have projects now, and when those are done, there are already plenty of others that are waiting in the wings. It never ends.

But I think I'm ok with that. It seems normal. Life is an everyday kind of a thing, after all. All is well.

...although a bit hot and sticky, at the moment.

* Unfortunately, no A/C in my workspace at the house, but I should be back in the office-office for the rest of the week.

Hope and the Pelagian heresy

Perhaps there's been a bit too much thinking today. Or feeling. Or something. But whatever it was, there was definitely not enough working that needed to get done. And here I am, thinking, or feeling, that I should leave it be and do what's left to do around the house before going to bed, and then going to bed, and I'm sitting here writing a post that I've probably started and cancelled at least six or seven times already in the last half-hour because I thought I should just leave it be because it clearly wasn't ready to come out just yet.

Does any of this make sense? (Don't worry, it gets worse.)

So after learning about what happened to Helen Hill, I was thinking about how these things happen, and what can be done, and what it all means. Which is to say, how do people come to do these terrible things? And, how do you go on after something like this happens? And, well, what does it all mean? And I came to a point where I was thinking about free will.

And it's just like you're watching one of the Matrix movies, and it sounds like a cliché as you hear Keanu Reeves as Neo saying in your head: "It all comes down to choice."

Jenny Davidson begins her post "Helen Hill chose to be good."

You can succumb to the darkness and wallow in despair or you can find the strength to stand up and try to make it work. It seems hopelessly cliché, and yet, it resonates. Maybe it's just that I've watched too many sappy movies, but there it is.

I've recently came to accept that the challenges we go through, the difficult times, while unpleasant, are a part of life. An essential part of life. 2006 was a pretty rough year for me, but I think I went through a lot of growth. I'm in a better place, I feel like I'm a better person. And I realized that without a lot of that hard stuff that went on last year, I probably never would have gotten here. Which is not to say that I'm going out of my way looking for trouble, just that when it comes, I try to accept it for what it is and then do the best I can.

So the idea of free will wandered into my brain sometime around lunch. Later in the afternoon, the SOOTTAD sent me the post by Jenny Davidson where she talks about an idea from a John Passmore book which mentions the Pelagian heresy:

One version of that idea is the thing called the Pelagian heresy, the assertion (contra Augustine, who believed that man could be redeemed only by God’s grace) that man could perfect himself by the exercise of free will.

She later quotes an excerpt:

But we know from our own experience, as teachers or parents, that individual human beings can come to be better than they once were, given care, and that wholly to despair of a child or a pupil is to abdicate what is one’s proper responsibility. We know, too, that in the past men have made advances, in science, in art, in affection. Men, almost certainly, are capable of more than they have ever so far achieved. But what they achieve, or so I have suggested, will be a consequence of their remaining anxious, passionate, discontented human beings.

It is through struggle that we can make ourselves better, and we can help and support one another through it.

Anyway, I feel like I'm rambling a bit, but this whole thought process was nagging at me. And I kept trying to leave it be, until I caught a little synchronicity in Today's Show with Ze Frank. (Of course, theoretically, it was ultimately my choice to post this, right?)

I think that what I wanted to do was provide a small counterpoint to my previous post. I know what to do. It's just that sometimes, I feel so drained. And I need to take a step back and gather myself together before digging in and pushing forward again.

Do what you can. And hope for the best.

Mad World

Helen Hill died January 4, 2007.

I did not know Helen Hill, but it still makes me terribly, terribly sad. But the sadness is overcome by outrage to learn that she was murdered in her home. And it hits that much harder because she was a friend of the SOOTTAD's. As was her husband. As is her husband.

When the SOOTTAD told me about it, she described them as "two of the most purely nice, kind, loving, creative people I have ever met." And all I could think was, what is wrong with the world? What kind of world do we live in where such a thing could happen? Where such a thing could happen to people like this?

The headline in the New York Times -- "Just Days Into the Year, Killings Toll Hits 8 in New Orleans" -- seems absurdly distant. Same for the Shreveport Times. Another body count in a world full of violence. You could quickly scan it and wander off, troubled but largely untouched. I know these things happen, but knowing them, even once removed, cuts to the quick. The connection brings it into sharp relief, and yet it isn't necessary to have that connection to feel its impact. It was fundamentally a terrible thing to happen. A terrible thing to happen to anybody. It sparks anger, outrage and then more sadness.

And yet the despair currently surpasses the outrage right now.

I think about the insulated worlds in which I move. In school, I'm in contact with many people who want to be healers, people who want to make a living making the world a better place. Lots of warm fuzzies flying all around. A hopeful place. It makes me want to bring understanding into my perspective. People can be swept up by the tide of circumstance; desperation can cause people to do terrible things. But this seems to go beyond my understanding. I can't put myself in a context where one could do such a thing and still be within my perspective, my values, my world.

And I am left finding that I can only ask, how can you heal from a thing like this? All I can think to do is try and cherish all the good that we still have and do our best to protect and fortify it against all the bad that is swirling around us, but there seems to be something fundamentally wrong with that too...

The world's gone bad, and I wonder if it's gone past the point of no return.

Holiday Spirit

I've been kinda out of sync with the whole holiday season thing this year.

Case in point, it's Christmas Eve and I spent most of the day painting one of the rooms in the new house and then went for a run before it got too dark. And now I'm sitting home alone at my computer (homes alone what with the new house also being unoccupied) trying to figure out what I'm going to make for dinner. I'm hoping to go out for drinks with some friends later tonight.*

It's just not feeling particularly Christmas-y except for the part where I have to take into consideration whether stores are going to be open and realizing that most people either aren't around or are off doing family things. (Like the SOOTTAD, who's already at the parental homestead.) I haven't been exposed to much of the commercial holiday onslaught because I don't really watch TV, haven't done much (any) shopping (at least in any kind of retail venue) or really been out and about in any kind of traditional/mainstream public space. It's a testament to the busy, I guess. In fact, the first time the whole Christmas music thing really was noticeable was at lunch Friday at a fairly mainstream "Mexican" restaurant in the area. (A regrettable meal, I'm sad to say.)

Anyway, it was an odd feeling seeing the decorated houses on my run (somehow seeing the Christmas tree through a window hits home more than the lights and decorations out front), noticing clusters of parked cars in some neighborhoods where a family gathering was probably taking place or the occasional family packing into a car, presumably heading off to just such a gathering, only elsewhere.

It's actually the first year I haven't flown back to California for holidays. In the past, I've always visited for at least a few days, even if I had to fly out on Christmas day or spent much of my time working at the computer.

But things were just too crazy this year. I knew we were closing on the new house in the middle of December and would have to deal with fixing things up before the SOOTTAD moved back. There was a possible business trip to Texas the week before Christmas. (It thankfully fell through, but still made travel planning difficult.) And I was also feeling a bit reluctant leaving the sick kitty to the care of others. (I trust my friends, but I didn't want to burden them with the frequent medication, supervised feedings, daily poop-scooping, and the general stress and anxiety caring for a ward whose condition could go quickly from bad to worse.) And when I'd normally be planning my flights, I was feeling overwhelmed dealing with the new work project, school demands, a sick kittycat, and new house details, not to mention trying to provide moral support to the SOOTTAD, all on top of managing the normal everyday business.

It was just too much to deal with, so I punted. It was probably the right decision, but it still makes me a little sad. And I've definitely been feeling it more the last few days. I kind of hoped that my parents would decide to fly out and visit me instead. Supposed to be a mild winter this year, y'know. But, no... and I didn't really try to push the issue.

Anyway, after my run I made my first active acknowledgement of the holiday season by putting on Vince Guaraldi's Charlie Brown Christmas soundtrack. I'm listening to Soma-FM's Christmas Lounge broadcast now.

During the run, I was thinking about all this. How I was feeling a bit down. A bit frustrated with the slow progress on the house. Bummed that the SOOTTAD had to leave yesterday afternoon because of filial obligation. That I was left to paint alone. That I couldn't drum up any friends to help me. That I had to fend for myself for dinner tonight. I was hopeful that I could at least hang out with some friends tonight, but that plan fell through too.

But... it is what it is, and I suppose it's as it should be. These little twists and turns, I assume, I hope, have some reason.

After all that, I still felt, I still feel, an underlying sense of gratitude. I'm kinda bummed right now, but in the grand scheme of things, life is good. I have a roof over my head. (Two, even, were I to need it.) I'm worrying about WHAT I'm going to have for dinner, not *IF* I'm going to have dinner. I'm not with my family right now, but I know they're there, and that they love me. I have many, many friends, new and old. The SOOTTAD will be back tomorrow, and actually, I'll be heading out to spend the day with her family.

When I finished my run, the sun had already dipped beneath the horizon but the part of the sky that was still light was still a deep amber and orange. I ended up watching it slowly faded into a sort of pale brightness, silhouetted by the leafless trees around the neighborhood. It was no idyllic, snowy New England winter scene, but it was still a beautiful sight.

Walking back home, I wished on a star.

I guess I'm getting into the spirit of things in my own way.

Happy holidays, folks.

* A friend of mine apparently has a long-standing tradition of going out drinking at Charlie's Kitchen every Christmas Eve with some friends. I was hoping to join them, but this year, one member of the group has a girlfriend who's hosting a dinner and it turned out that the dinner ran late and they had to bag it for the first time in several years. My luck these days, it seems.

Unexpected Wretched Excess

Binney PondAlthough I don't like to make a big deal about birthdays, I do like the idea of doing something meaningful for myself. Something a little different that, I dunno, lets me reset or reflect or something. So of late (that would be the last two years), I've taken a day off from work and gone on a hike. Last year we ended up doing a moonlight hike of Mt. Monadnock in New Hampshire. (It wasn't planned that way, but it worked out well enough. I got a flat that couldn't be plugged early that afternoon, so we ended up getting there at dusk -- but it was a known option when I decided on the hike.) This year I figured I'd go hike the Wapack trail that starts at the "base" of Mt. Watatic in Ashburnham and ends at North Pack "Mountain" in Southern New Hampshire. (Sorry, coming from California, I still am embarrassed to call some of the bumps out here "mountains.") I usually do this hike over Labor day weekend, but this year got filled with various events and activities, so I had to skip it.

I usually start out in the early afternoon from the parking lot off 119 in Ashburnham and do an out-and-back hike, turning around based on my best guess as to how much light I'll have left. I usually make it to somewhere around New Ipswich Mountain before heading back. I had hoped to get an earlier start this time, but the margaritas from the previous night (a birthday dinner for my friend JBar) had done a pretty good job on me, so I ended up getting to the trailhead around 1pm. Not really an issue -- I had already assumed that I'd be hiking back in the dark given the rapidly shortening days and had brought a few extra layers along with a headlamp and the best freakin' flashlight on the planet. (Saved our ass on the Monadnock hike when we accidentally got off-trail.) The plan was to try and get to Rt. 124 in New Hampshire, the first road-crossing the trail makes, if not Kidder Mountain. I figured it was a bit less than the halfway point of a 21-mile trail, so guesstimated it to be about 10 miles out. I didn't really think much beyond that. I thought it would be cool to have a tangible goal and set off for the trail.

It was a beautiful day, and it was good to be outside. I'm glad the weather held out, since there had been forecasts of clouds and possible rain that night or the next day. (it ended up holding off the entire weekend)

It being a weekday, I only ran into four or five groups of people:

• A young couple and their dog sitting at the summit of Mt. Watatic...
• followed by two women and five fair-haired children just as I was heading back onto the trail
• A middle-aged couple in a beat-up blue Ford pickup with NH plates, the bed full of wood and a gas-powered chainsaw. Between the MA/NH border and the Binney Pond area there's a section of access roads, so it's not totally crazy to see a vehicle on the "trail," but it's the first time I've ever seen one. I think they were gathering firewood. It's New Hampshire -- Live Free or Die country. We made a little chit-chat about the Wapack trail as I passed, and I went on my way.
• As I neared Binney Pond, I noticed another blue truck, this time with MA plates, parked on the side of the road, a CD collection of baby tunes on the passenger seat catching my eye as I passed. Sure enough, as I started walking along the pond, I could hear the shouting of small children, eventually catching up to, and passing, a guy with a goatee and wraparound sunglasses with mirrored lenses, holding the hands of (presumably) his two daughters, each with matching backpacks. It really was adorable.
• Another middle-aged couple, the woman wearing a semi-dressy white top and capri pants, the man, in jeans and a navy blue shirt, smoking a cigar, backpack slung over his shoulder with a loaf of french bread sticking out the top.

By the time I made it to 124, I was just about ready to give up and head back. The timing worked out pretty well since the continuation of the trail wasn't immediately obvious to me. (Incidentally, the area around 124 is actually a cross-country ski and snowshoe area -- all the extra signage was a bit confusing until I figured that out.)

I was already pretty tired at that point, so I took a short break (taking the time to find a trail map from the ski area), and then started on my way back. That was probably around 5pm. It was around that time that a few things started to concern me. Sure, it was getting a bit late, but that was expected. (There were certainly a few moments where I had to get the Blair Witch Project out of my head. Annoying.) But my feet had started to hurt. And there was that sign I saw as I made my way down to 124.

< What was that, again? About half of the 21-mile trail... 10 miles... 8.6 miles to 119...

Aw crap! I just brain-farted my way onto a 18-mile hike!

At first, I figured I'd be alright. Sure, my left heel was rubbing uncomfortably in my sweat-soaked socks and the laces on my right boot felt like they were starting to crush bone, but it's just a walk. A long walk, but a walk nonetheless. What's the big deal?

Well, the light-hiker socks and the light-weight boots to start. I think the light-hike ended about 3-4 miles ago.

I took a short break on New Ipswich to take in the sunset. I probably would have stopped to eat except for the mosquitoes that would have joined me. I tried to adjust my stride, hold my feet up with my shoulders, use my momentum to get one foot in front of the other, just concentrating on getting back to the car. It was the strangest feeling to have to struggle just to take one step after another.

7:40pm and I'm in the car, chowing down on cheese and pepperoni and triscuits. I actually leave the parking lot at 8pm and catch Ortiz's game winning homerun in the bottom of the 10th on the radio.

I'll be home in an hour.

Postscript: after cleaning up, we grab some dinner downtown. I'm craving noodles so we hit a Korean restaurant in Chinatown and I get jambong -- a spicy seafood noodle soup. Tasty. But having not eaten anything substantial all day, I end up feeling totally stuffed and bloated, and am unable to fall asleep until way late. Oy.