Left Handed

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Left-Handers-Day

This is getting creepy.  Am I the only one Facebook notified that today is International Left-hander’s Day?  On the other hand, this exceptional profile accuracy renews my faith in the omnipotence of their algorithms.  If their AI knows I’m left-handed, then they should be able to resolve this Russia thing.

As much as I appreciate the recognition, I can’t pretend to understand the value having this day brings to me.  No doubt, extensive lobbying went into making this day available to us lefties worldwide.  Not sure I’d give my right hand to keep it, but I wouldn’t give it back.

I will say this.  In fact, I’ll let my future son-in-law say it for me – visually – captured here as I was spying down on the city of Telluride.  Whether you’re AI, or a bot, or some photo-opportunist, I know that you know that I know you’re watching me.

St Sophia

Run Fat, Eat Slow

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fat runner

I’m still running, if you can call it that.  I run the East Boulder Trail on Saturdays and Sundays.  Mountain trails are out of the question right now.  This trail is pedestrian enough for my current skills, while presenting me with hills that give my cardio a workout regardless of how slow I take them.  I have to tell you, it’s not fun.  As much as I love running, running fat is a painful exercise.  I’m doing it though to stay in the game.  I won’t always be fat.

I don’t expect to able to run my 3-day October event, the Grand Circle Trailfest.  A half marathon each day through Bryce, Zion, and the Grand Canyon.  At any time over the last nine years, I could run a half marathon at the drop of a hat.  Now, my ability to run a 10K without some walking is questionable.  I’ll likely try to defer this to next year.  The splash of realism in my face came last week from my doctor.  He said he won’t let me run it without agreeing to take some tests first.  What a wet blanket.  How did I fall so far, so fast?  I know how.

Typical story.  Lose weight slowly.  I lost an average of five pounds per year over a series of years.  Then I maintained it steady for awhile at what I think is my sweet spot, 175 pounds.  Then, cancer dropped me down to 165 for a couple years, and like everyone else, I’ll admit that didn’t look so good.  It did help me to run fast though.

After the 2017 Colorado Marathon, I stopped running almost completely.  I went from running on average seventy miles a week, burning and replenishing 3000 calories per day, to running about ten miles per week.  Problem is, I kept consuming those 3000 daily calories.  A man my age should maybe eat 2000 calories per day.  I gained thirty-five pounds in six months.  Fuck.

I know enough about nutrition and exercise to understand I need to focus first on diet, then exercise.  I’m starting to focus on it.  Change for most things comes through routine.  I know how to do that.  Of course, knowing how and doing it are two different things.  At the same time, I’m beginning to work more on my second book, which is essentially a second hobby.  And writing is more fun than running fat, so I tend to put more effort into the writing.

But I don’t want to give up running.  It’s been a constant throughout my life, with memories all the way back to childhood.  Forgive the play on words from the popular running and nutrition book, but I’m going to run fat and eat slow until I return to form.  Until I can run six miles again without having to walk every little hill.  That 3 day run through gorgeous national parks is probably out of reach this year.  That’s fine.  I just want to drop a good ten pounds so I can enjoy running in the Colorado fall.

Ellierose

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Ellierose text

Fräulein Ellierose navigated Fankfurt on her return flight, but not without texting her  review.  That she referenced the Munich airport over Frankfurt was just enough to make me get up and check the flight status.  She arrived to Graz via Munich but departed via Frankfurt.  Our weary little tourist clearly prefers Munich over Frankurt.  Simple typo from a worldly traveler.

DIA

I would have gone straight to bed after reaching home.  Ellierose went to a little home coming party at Wendy’s house.  Her friends were there, making it somewhat of a surprise party.  She returned home around midnight, with some leftover party-goers, making it a sleepover.  I’m not going to bother doing the math with Austria being eight hours ahead, but that had to be a 24 hour day minimum.

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I’m grateful to Tina and Wolfgang for hosting her.  They took her to Salzburg and Vienna.  They even took her to Venice.  And Tina packed Ellierose two sandwiches for the flight.  Quite the host mother.

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I was concerned Ellierose would return with some ink or piercings.  But as Brit suggested, she returned instead with lots of new clothes.  Oh, and she changed her name.  Something girls do at about her age.  She insists we all include her middle name now, so it’s Ellierose until we’re told otherwise.  After traveling to Europe for a month on her own, she can choose her own name.

Wendy's house 4

Mount Evans

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Ed on Guanella Pass

The best hikes begin with camping.  I’m pictured here at dusk beside my one-man, Big Agnes tent, perched about a hundred yards from the upper parking lot on Guanella Pass. Signs posted in the parking lot say “no camping”, but the guidelines aren’t clear.  A reasonable person would believe that to mean within fifty yards.  We weren’t alone.

It’s been about a year since I’ve been camping and I will tell you that I enjoy it as much as the next day’s hike.  It’s mostly the stars that I find so special.  Absent the ambient city lights of the Denver metro, the night sky is absolutely stunning.  The first stars to become visible are actually planets, first Venus, the evening star, followed closely by Jupiter and then Mars appears as a red twinkle.  I have thoughts watching their light emerge from the darkness of early man viewing the same night horizon thirty thousand years earlier and maybe learning to count to three.  Soon after the arrival of Mars, too many stars flood the night sky to count.

mountain goats

We woke at 4:30 and hit the trail an hour later, after packing up and enjoying trailhead coffee.  The upper parking lot was filling up and the lower parking lot was completely full, with fifty or more cars parked along the road.  If you’ve hiked Mount Beirstadt, then you know how crowded that trail is.  With the pass sitting above tree line at 11,669 feet, Mt. Bierstadt is one of the most attainable 14ers in Colorado.  But Rob and I didn’t take the trail up to Bierstadt.

Still in the willows, we turned left at the creek crossing.  There’s a faint, unmarked trail that follows the banks, until it disappears in the willows.  The trail existed on some map Rob studied before our hike.  A map he left at home.  Having a map would seem wise when entering the forest and mountains of Colorado, but we knew where we were and about where we wanted to go.  We shuffle parked our other car at Echo Lake, on the other side of the mountains that lie in front of us, roughly thirteen miles easterly from Guanella Pass.

Rob on Mt Evans

I can tell you the trail didn’t exist on the map I studied before hand.  It’s safe to say, there is no trail, so we bushwhacked our way through the cold, wet mud and willows in a pointed direction to the saddle that sits north of Mount Bierstadt.  Trails did emerge at times, animal trails no doubt.  Rob’s general tactic when having lost the trail is to proceed upwardly toward higher ground.  There was no debate, up was where we wanted to go.

We encountered climbers at the top of the saddle.  Rather than presenting a trail down the far side, turned out the other side of the saddle is what climbers call the black wall, a sheer cliff with a thousand foot drop.  Our trail was another quarter mile uphill and to the right.  It’s actually a loop and we continued up Mount Spalding, and eventually to Mount Evans itself.  It’s not an easy trail, at times more of merely a route marked by cairns.  The climb was exhausting.

Ed on Mt Evans

Of course, you don’t have to hike for miles to reach Mount Evans, there’s a paved road that allows visitors to park a hundred or so feet below the massive pile of rocks that form the peak.  As far as we know, we were the only hikers atop Mount Evans who arrived via the unmarked trail from the Guanella Pass direction.  This is a rare mountaintop that is reachable by paved road.  I very much recommend it.  Visitors were taking pictures of mountain goats as they stood in line for the restrooms by the observatory.  Where else would you find that experience?

Our descent was just as brutal as the climb up.  The first thousand foot drop from the peak contained switchbacks as tight as a staircase, and the steepness continued for several thousand more feet, hammering my thighs and quads to where I still can’t descend the stairs in my house today without holding onto the railing.  We reached the Echo Lake Trailhead after thirteen miles and nine hours.  Another epic hike in the books.  Can’t wait to get back out there.

Dirt Trails

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Two days in a row running the East Boulder Trail, up and down the white rock cliffs.  These trails are easy, soft dirt, compared to the rocky mountain trails out around Lyons and Left Hand Road.  These dirt trails are a better fit for my current state of fitness.  The true mountain trails are so technical and I’ve lost some of the requisite skills of negotiating my footfalls along the path.  And they are much, much steeper, causing me to walk more than run.  I can generate a little bit more momentum over these dirt trails.  I can take my eyes off my feet and enjoy the views of the Indian Peaks.  You can see them in this photo, just over the crest of the hill in front of me.

grasslands

The East Boulder Trail contains rolling hills through grasslands where, centuries earlier, the buffalo roamed.  Now I roam these hills, and have for the last twenty-eight years.  The grasses are nearing waist-high in some places.  We’ve been getting some good rain so far this season.

steep

I ran all the hills, on a six mile out-and-back, yesterday.  It might have been cooler yesterday, and I ran really well.  Today, not so well.  No doubt, my legs were tired from yesterday.  I swear to you, the same hills were steeper today.  The trick is being able to climb the first big hill on the return without stopping.  My experience is if I stop there, like I did today near the top, then I’ll walk the final hill that leads up to the water tower – which I did today too.

dirt trail

Regardless, this trail always gives me a workout.  And the downside of each hill on the East Boulder Trail is generally rewarded with a nice view like this.  Sometimes, running in the mountains, you can’t see the forest for the trees.  The East Boulder Trail though always gives you an awesome view.  I will never tire of my runs on this trail.

 

Fräulein Ellie

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Ellie has been texting back photos from her first week in Austria.  They prompt me to recall Audrey Hepburn in the 1954 movie, Sabrina.  I won’t be surprised if she returns with short hair.  Or maybe the modern-day equivalent, a tattoo or piercing.  Brittany tells me it’s more likely that Ellie will simply return with new clothes.

wine

More likely, Ellie will return with expectations of drinking wine at dinner.  She’s yet to obtain her driving license, but that’s not a requirement in Austria for imbibing adult beverages.  Three more weeks of Ellie exploring Europe.  Life won’t be the same when she returns.

Letting Go

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DIA 2

A big trip for me when I was 16 was driving three hours across Texas to the beach.  Ellie wanted to leave the country.  I know, we all do.  We dropped off Ellie at DIA yesterday to fly Lufthansa to Austria – on her own.  Just watching her navigate the security line by herself was hard for Karen and me.  Letting go, one vacation at a time.

DIA 1

We embarrassed her with our photo-taking, tracking her progress through security like parents sending their 5 year old off to their first day in kindergarten.  Ellie navigated switching flights in Munich – Europe’s 7th busiest airport.  She arrived in Graz around 2pm CET and called us to let us know she was safe – 6am MDT.  She’ll be visiting her childhood friend Izzy for the next four weeks.  Karen and I will be adapting to life as empty-nesters.

The Irrigation Ditch

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I don’t talk up the irrigation ditch at N. 83rd St. on the Lobo Trail enough.  Back when I ran big distance, fifteen and twenty milers, its strategic location three and half miles from my house was a life saver on hot summer days.  Nowadays, I would argue running seven miles is easier than running six.  Sloshing around my hat in that cool snow melt and putting it back on brings my legs back to life.  More than anything else, that stream brings me back home.

irrigation ditch 2

The air is still a bit hazy from the fires down in Durango.  Running a few miles Thursday gave me sniffles and a sore throat.  Risked it today because the weekend is my only chance to get in any real miles.  I think the air is better than Thursday.  My buddy La Plata said it rained good down in Durango yesterday.  Natural hydration.  Helps me on my runs and the best response to those forest fires.

They Grow up so Fast

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Lea Marlene

We watched Brit perform a couple of skits Friday night at the Lea Marlene Acting Studio on Pearl Street.  Come to think of it, we watched her last Friday too, singing at the Denver Bicycle Cafe.  She’s become our go-to event for Fridays, no doubt risking over-exposure.

Camilla Susser

Brit acted out scenes from Steel Magnolias and The Importance of Being Earnest.  Brit played Shelby, returning home pregnant for Christmas in Magnolias.  As you can see in the photo, Brit played pretty, young Cecily in Earnest.

Brit with ellie n rachel

We hung around a bit afterward for the cast party.  Brit was happy, as you can see in the photo above with her friend Rachel and sister Ellie.  Brit is in her mid-twenties now, and it’s special to still go watch her perform, like we did when she was a child.  She’s engaged now.  I expect events will change.  Brit will turn her focus to her family.  We’ll still have Ellie for a few more years.

The Cyphers

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steganogrphy

I belong to a covert writing club.  We publish on the deep web.  Like using steganography.  I probably shouldn’t say anything more.  It started from a private invite.  We publish privately to promote creativity.

If any of this sounds illicit to you, let me define terms.  The dark net is where people conduct nefarious transactions.  Dark net sites are generally also part of the deep web, but the deep web is not inherently bad.  It’s simply web sites that have not been indexed by search engines or otherwise have their access obscured.  The metaphor is of an iceberg.  We use the Internet that’s been indexed for queries.  That’s the tip of the iceberg.  The vast majority of the web is not visible to us, like the deeply submerged section of the iceberg.

This started out as a way for us to hone our craft.  It’s also a good method to draft snippets of dialogue for later regurgitation in other works – for me, my novel.  I’m considering submitting my current writing for review, sort of like the conventional writer’s discussion group.

I’m relating this under my novel category because I think it’s a novel approach (forgive the pun) for writers to practice their craft.  Your contributions can be easily copy/pasted years into the future into derivative works.  A post today by one of the other writers spoke to me so directly, it felt unnatural.  Like the narrator had a Gods-eye view into my life.  That’s impressive writing that does that.  Not only will I benefit from the writing exercise, but I expect to read some really good stories, exclusive to my private group.

 

The Art of Slow

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“I’m in no rush.”  That’s what I told myself today as I parked at the trailhead.  I should be back on the LoBo Trail where I belong, but I deferred a run last October to this October.  The course runs upwards of 60 miles through Bryce, Zion and the Grand Canyon.  Over three days.  We’re in summer today, I felt it, but fall is up next.  I need to train on a mountain trail.  But I could give up thoughts of constant running today, on this trail.

At Heil Valley, I always warm up on the Lichen Loop.  I was out early enough to avoid direct overhead sun.  My current state of fitness won’t let me enjoy running up to the top of the Wapiti Trail.  I ran over a mile of it but didn’t make it to the top.  I don’t think it matters.  I just need to run up and down a mountain trail.  Doesn’t matter how I do it.  Could be more of a power walk, with stops to drink water.  Sometimes it was.

Part of the technical aspect of running such a rocky mountain trail requires attention to control.  For me, control highly correlates with slow.  Part of my plan already.  I was good.  I carried a water bottle, that’s how slow I started out.  I don’t know if I ever actually increased my pace, but I felt like I did at times.  Steep trails kill.

So I walked when needed, knowing that I would before I ever stepped out of the car.  I would try to run when going past other hikers and bikers.  Think what you want about me, appearances matter.  I typically pass bikers on the way up.  Not today though.  Probably not for a couple of months, if I train.  I ran strong though at times.

Whenever my lactate level would allow, I’d unwind over the dirt and rocks, and when I exceeded my lactate threshold, I either slowed down, or, with increasing frequency, I walked. Even the walking was a training experience.  Both cardio and  technical.  I re-introduced myself to trail running today.  It’s going to be an uphill climb, but starting is the hardest part.  And I’ve started.

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I know that I developed a pattern of streaking through sunlit meadows faster than the darker woods.  It just seemed smart to expose myself to the unrelenting rays of the sun today, as little as possible.  At times, I swear I could see beams of light slicing through the grass in front of me.  I think this photo above proves I didn’t imagine it.

I think, never stopping to walk with full sun exposure, was what got me home today.  Could have been the difference.  Hard to say sometimes whether it’s the heat or the hill.  Today it was both so I optimized my slower running to cooler parts of the trails.  That’s environmental leverage.  And because I carried water with me, I practiced a little hydro management too.  Point is, pace doesn’t matter.  Everything on the spectrum from walking to running  today counted toward the training I’m going to need for October.

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Running and walking with control, which is harder than you think on the downhills when you do it fast, meant that no matter how slow and controlled my pace was, I was getting something from it.  Technical training from my foot placement decisions.  Cardio from my random pace and the hills.  As I passed an older couple, one called out something to me and I replied back with something witty that made them laugh.  Then I laughed.  Going slow allowed me to take photos.  It was a good run

A Light Rain

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7 miler

I don’t look up at summits.  I look over them.  I’ve been struggling lately to increase my distance beyond five mile runs.  I do that by not turning around until after three and a half miles.  I’ll do the math for you.  Were I to complete my runs, I’d get in seven miles.  I keep falling short, having to walk in the final mile.  That makes six for any readers having trouble keeping up with the numbers.

I’m okay with that.  Aiming high and falling short is the best path to the top.  Forward progress is my only true goal.  Today I ran all seven.  Could have been the cool temps and light rain.  Still, I wouldn’t have run seven if I only attempted five.  See how that works?  Bring on more rain.  Tomorrow I aim for eight.

Mileage is Trending

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Garden of the Gods 2010

I used to run.  A lot.  I ran high school cross country my sophomore year and have identified myself as a runner ever since.  Even during those twenty or so years, raising kids and chasing career, when I rarely ran, my self-image was still of a runner.  This photo marks when I got back into road racing in 2010.  See that old man behind me who looks like he’s a few steps away from death?  This is at the five mile turn-around during the Garden of the Gods ten miler.  He was 68 years old while I was 48.  He finished two and a half minutes ahead of me.

I was just getting back into running then.  Returning to form was a journey.  Debilitating injuries.  Plantar fasciitis.  Arthritis in my symphysis pubis.  Lost weight at a rate of five pounds per year.  Worked my way up to a hundred miles per week.  Never ran more than seventy in college.  I started running a couple of marathons each year and became competitive for my age division.  Then my running came to a stop.

A year ago, I determined to focus on my career again.  I expected an impact to my running but not the addition of twenty-five pounds and two inches to my waist.  Damn.  The real surprise though has come in the last couple of weeks when I’ve tried to increase my mileage.  Simply trying to run five miles was leading to pain in my left leg.  It’s an insult to my pride that I can only run five miles now, but injury too?

I think I understand the cause.  My left foot pronates.  That’s fine until a runner over strides.  Modern shoes, as in shoes since the late ’70s, promote over-striding.  As a response to overcoming injuries after I got back into running, I trained myself to shorten my stride.  That wasn’t as easy as I just made it sound, but it remedied my plantar fasciitis.

What I discovered is that I am so flipping fat, I can’t run with a shorter stride.  A shorter stride requires a quicker cadence, and I’m no longer in shape enough to run with a quick cadence.  My muscle memory has me trying to run with a shorter stride, but I start breathing so heavy that I scare walkers in front of me as I come up behind them.  I believe my legs autonomically corrected my stride to be longer, so that I can breathe.  This lead to pain building from over striding.

I was able to figure that out on my own.  And this week, I’ve run with enough repetition that I think I’m improving.  For the first time since I ran my last marathon, almost a year ago to the day, I’ve run four times in the last seven days.  I do well with repetition.  I’m pretty excited.  I feel like my mileage is trending in a good direction.  I don’t have to run a hundred miles a week, but it will be nice to firm back up again.

Slate River Valley

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This is our Austrian exchange student Caroline’s first trip to Crested Butte and the Slate River Valley, so naturally we stopped for a quick pic when we crossed the Continental Divide.  Monarch Pass sits 200 miles from our house, assuming you duck into BV for a bite at the Eddyline Brewery.  Ninety minutes later, we checked into the Elevation Hotel & Spa.  Don’t ask me to explain the holes in these girls’ pants.  I blame the influence of Emma Gonzales.

Ed

Karen and I hiked Friday morning from the Slate River Trailhead.  The snow was packed hard enough that we left our snowshoes in the van.  Not a great snow season for Colorado, but there’s enough.  We trekked along another trail above town after lunch.  We’re learning our way around Slate Valley.  If you’re not familiar with Crested Butte, it sits in a gorgeous valley, north of Gunnison and south of Aspen.

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The girls got in a full day of snow boarding.  So warm they didn’t need their ski jackets.  Tomorrow should be even warmer.  Nice views from the mountain with the clear skies and full sun.  BTW, Camp 4 Coffee is the best in CB.

coffee shop

We’ve yet to eat out at places we’ve been before.  As good as we know they are, we’re still exploring this town.  We ate at the Last Steep tonight.   Looks like a cheap sandwich shop but will surprise you.  We do plan on pizza at Secret Stash tomorrow though.  Too good to ignore that one.

Izzies

 

Fat & Slow

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I like to blog on my good runs.  My fast races.  Those moments where running is almost an out of body experience of exhilarating performance.  Today, I’m just thankful for not ever speaking ill of slower, less fit runners because right now, those are my people.    Running fat and slow is certainly less satisfying but I’ll take it.  So happy to get in my one run each week.  Sad that I can’t seem to run both Saturday and Sunday, but I’ve learned to take and enjoy what the trail gives me.

I never ventured beyond the Brushy Creek Regional Trail as part of my trip to Round Rock, but I got in a couple of six milers.  My positive spin is that these massively slow runs in the Texas spring have contributed to my acclimation to heat and humidity.  Part of my prepping for the summer conditioning plan.  All part of the master plan.

I didn’t do much of anything down here outside of working my 12 hour days and spending what time I could with my mom.  I’d get up at 5am to spend some quality time sitting together in the morning, both reading the paper and watching CNBC.  Our conversations would center on her top concerns, and occasional family history.  I have to say, old people are extremely regular in their tendency to reference BMs and constipation in a sentence.  By the time my work day was over, it was nearly her bed time.  I did get some things done around the house and went to church with her on Sundays.  Roasting a chicken at this very moment.

Wish I could have met up with friends.  Sorry I couldn’t hook up with George at the 512 Brew Pub.  I did however sample multiple locally crafted IPAs.  512 was my hands-down favorite.  My brother-in-law, who plays tonight at the Carousel, told me last night to try their Pecan Porter. I head home Wednesday night.  Glad to have had the opportunity to visit.

SXSW

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IMG_1776Hah, fooled you.  This is not a blog covering the digital creatives that descend on Austin in March.  I am however in Austin.  I realized my mistake upon arrival at ABIA yesterday.  Conditions inside the terminal were claustrophobic.  Thank God I didn’t try to rent a car.  Still not sure how I scored a ticket on Southwest for under $100.  Must have beat the real crowds by a few days.

DIA was packed too, with home-bound skiers.  As bad as I’ve ever seen it.  Southwest maintains a seemingly random pattern of kiosks in front of the ticket counter for travelers to claim their baggage tag.  People didn’t know how to queue up efficiently.  It didn’t help that an agent walked around barking out instructions that there is no line.  No idea what she meant by that.

The lady directly in front of me panicked when her turn came.  She fumbled around in her purse for identification or her smart phone.  Her bag didn’t just spill, it literally exploded its contents onto the floor.  Apparently stressed, she shrieked like a banshee out of frustration.  Like in a scene from Home Alone, a hundred travelers all hushed themselves to stare at her as she sunk to her knees, sobbing, to collect her belongings.

After all this, my flight wasn’t full and I was able to spread out with my newspaper.  My brother picked me up and we stopped for lunch at some pub in the Domain.  I quaffed a 512, a locally crafted IPA.  Pretty tasty.  Looking forward to some more local food and beverages, and hopefully a few trail runs, over the next several weeks.

Bluebonnets & Cactus

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Feb 24 2018

After a brutally cold and snowy week, today’s near freezing temps felt fine for a seven miler on the LoBo Trail.  The warm Colorado sun helped.  The wind picked up at one point alongside a harvested corn field, and I put my jacket on.  I was able to tie it back around my waist again after turning around.  What were once head winds carried me home.

This could be my final frigid February run of the year.  Next weekend will be March and I’ll be in Austin.  Wish I hadn’t gained so much weight this past year, otherwise I’d run some races down in the Texas springtime.  I’ll visit some of my favorite trails though, limestone paths through Bluebonnets and cactus.  Perdernales Falls will be on my list, along with the Austin Greenbelt.  Maybe I’ll get back into running this spring.

Virtual Currency

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Pretty sure I blogged late last year on my plans to buy Bitcoin.  I finally got around to doing that a couple of weeks ago.  I don’t care to start conducting transactions with virtual currencies.  This story is the best of many I’ve read that details exactly why virtual currencies aren’t really a thing yet, and won’t be for some time.  Perhaps not until quantum computing becomes pervasive.  I’m doing this for the experience.  To be able to relate accurate details in my next novel.  I referenced a bitcoin transaction in my last book but I glossed over the details.  One can’t write a tech thriller on cyberwar without speaking to virtual currencies.

I won’t go into too much detail here on my experience.  I think I’ll mostly provide links to some of the best stories I’ve discovered, and you can click on them if you’re interested.  I actually repeated a number of stories from my ten years of blogs in my last novel, and I will again.  So writing this post is more about building my reference library of content for book two than anything else.  Some of this will be useful to you if you are considering purchasing a virtual currency.

Since my goal isn’t becoming rich, I only purchased $100 of Bitcoin.  I wanted to invest just $5, and that’s an option, but there are transaction charges, and it occurred to me it’s more easy to do the math on $100.  It’s quick for me to understand the $2.99 cost of buying my $100 of Bitcoin is basically 3%.  I’ll incur similar future transaction charges and they would all be much more from a percentage perspective for only $5.

My first step was to read the Internet to understand how to begin trading Bitcoin.  I discovered I needed to register at an Exchange.  I settled on Gemini because it seemed the most professional to me.  It’s run by those Winklevoss twins whom successfully sued Mark Zuckerberg for a substantial share of Facebook.  After registering nearly two months ago, the Winklevoss twins still have not completed verification of my identity.  They did contact me once to inform me that my drivers license photo was too blurry and that I should resend it.  I did.  Nothing but chirping crickets since.  Seeing this as a red flag for future customer service interactions, I signed up with Coinbase – which is probably the most popular exchange.  Took a couple of days for verification, mostly because I did it over the weekend.  Go with Coinbase.

My research indicated that one should not leave their virtual currency sitting with an online exchange, given the history of these places having their reserves constantly hacked.  North Korea’s Icarus has made attacking exchanges their specialty of late.  Icarus is the modern day Bonnie and Clyde.

So I purchased a digital wallet.  I think I blogged on this already too.  I received the Nano Ledger S as a Christmas gift.  It’s pretty cool.  Cost about $79.  Another reason why purchasing only $5 would have been stupid.  The idea is one can transfer their Bitcoin from an exchange onto the digital wallet to avoid being hacked.  It’s mostly offline and connects to your computer via USB when you use it.  Transferring Bitcoin is essentially a copy/paste process.  Very easy to understand YouTube video here on how to do that between the Nano and Coinbase.

If I’m honest, using digital currencies is fairly complex.  But for a techie, sort of fun.  I created an account for myself at Bitsane too because I want to trade my Bitcoin for Ripple – another virtual currency that banks are starting to use.  Even more complexity as one cannot directly buy it.  Rather, you have to exchange Bitcoin for Ripple.  Yet more complexity.

There is nothing simple about trading Bitcoin.  It’s not something one can easily do from their 401K account.  But I’m a writer and my genre of tech thriller encumbers me to actually know what I’m talking about.  Fiction allows me to take some liberties, but readers of tech are interested in detail like this.

My Bitcoin stash is currently worth $130, after a single week.  $10 of that came from purchasing it from a recommendation, which you can do too from this link.  It will give you a quick 10% return on $100 transaction.  You and I will both get $10.  Seems like a better business model than actually trading Bitcoin.

Snow Run

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Feb 10 2018

I don’t get out for runs like I used to, but I wasn’t going to pass up today.  The snow flakes falling outside the window were so big, they drew me out into the cold for a postcard perfect run.  I donned my tights but didn’t bulk up too much, wearing just a long-sleeved t-shirt and light running jacket, hat and gloves.  This storm is uncharacteristically humid for Colorado, but without wind, 15° is fine running weather.

After discovering last weekend I’m no longer fit enough for eight mile runs, I planned to turn back at this footbridge.  I continued on though for another half mile to Ogallala Road for a six miler.  Apparently I can still run six miles.  I was able to pocket my gloves after a short while.  I love snow runs.  I’ll be back out again tomorrow for another six.

Muscles Awakened

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sisyphus

Ran today for the first time in weeks.  Bronchitis has taken its toll in January.  From running a marathon last May to now, it’s been a slow decay.  By mid summer I was only running weekends.  By fall, just Saturdays.  And January, mostly not at all.

Heading out, initially it was my massive midsection that I noticed.  Like Sisyphus, I powered my stomach forward, enslaved to my fattened body parts.  Twenty pounds heavier since running the Colorado Marathon down Poudre Canyon. I didn’t bother timing my pace.

I ran by Allison, strolling her baby on the LoBo Trail.  I stopped to chat since I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen her, and because I didn’t think a full stop would noticeably impact my overall pace.  A half mile later, I soft-tapped a low five to her father Steve, running behind her.

Heading back, after making it to my four mile turn-around point, I discovered my atrophied muscles.  I’d been wondering when my legs would lose their tone.  Overall, my legs still look fit but it’s the high thigh, the quads, that shouted out to me on my return.  It’s the same feeling after about twenty miles into a marathon when those quads begin to melt.  When you’re out of shape, this occurs at four miles instead of twenty.  I had to stop and walk a couple of times, not because I was winded from my heaving belly, but from the pain screaming from the tops of my legs.  Regaining my conditioning is going to be a challenge.  I’m starting over, from the bottom again.

WIX is the Website for Authors

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wix-logo

My friends think I’m technical.  I suppose compared to many of them, I am.  I would argue that ten years in personnel management killed my skills at the command line, but it’s all relative.  I just built a website for my novel.  I probably sound like a techie having just done that, but hear me out.

This morning, I built a decent web site for a book I published over a year ago.  Okay, so maybe I am technical, but lazy?  No, I tried to build a website earlier, it just sucked so badly I never really launched it.  Ultimately I deleted it.  And this is the point of my post, where I share my writing experience for other aspiring self publishers.  I built that first website with GoDaddy.  GoDaddy leverages WordPress for their platform.  Software that competes with Microsoft for the highest number of known vulnerabilities.  It’s so kludgy to use, I’m at a loss for words.  I could never get it to look how I wanted.  I couldn’t even use my own fonts.  That’s a big deal to me because I like to use a stencil font to give a military air to my book.  Think MASH.  I’d show you but this blog is on WordPress so I can’t.

It was my 15 year old daughter who talked me into using WIX.  I’m a happy camper.  Took me less than an hour to have everything looking how I wanted.  Much less than that to launch it but then I  tweaked things for over half that time because I was having fun.  WIX even provides simple-to-use email subscription forms.  Everything was so easy, a writer could do it.  I’m not just being funny there.  My experience meeting other writers is the majority of them are barely technical enough to format fonts in a Word document.  They refer to the people who publish ebooks as ebook coders, like it’s actually software development to publish a book in electronic format.  I’ll admit, it did take me about twenty hours of YouTube videos to learn Adobe InDesign, but seriously, it’s not coding.

So, if you are an author.  One of those writers who is just savvy enough to download Scrivener but not clever enough to integrate file sharing with DropBox, then Wix is for you.  Trust me, stay away from GoDaddy, it’s a POS.  That’s “Piece of Shit” for you non techies who shy away from acronyms and can’t RTFM.

A Fine Winter Day

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town lake

Man, what a fine winter day.  This was my first day running out on the trail since this Christmas Day photo with Brit on Town Lake.  I’ve been a bit under the weather, and still likely have a ways to go to fully recover.  I can tell you though that recovery will be hastened outdoors under the warm Colorado sun.

Sick or not, my conditioning is far from where I was a half year ago when I ran a 3:40 marathon.  Twenty pounds heavier, I shuffled along the trail like an old man.  Eight miles used to be a short distance where I hardly broke a sweat.  It now appears to be my maximum distance.  It doesn’t matter though.  Short and slow as my run was, outside in 45°, running in shorts and a cotton long-sleeved t-shirt, I felt like I belonged out on that trail.  It was so perfect.  Just like that Christmas Day run where Brit couldn’t stop laughing at me.

She did the same thing to me last night.  Apparently I broke out in song at the neighborhood party.  Brit gestured hand signals to lower my voice as she looked around. I didn’t stop singing though.  I was making a point that the world needs more dog songs, so I started singing You and Me and a Dog Named Boo.  That was the first 45 I bought from the local record shop as a kid.  We need more dog songs.

I was just as happy out on the trail today.  Only in Colorado can 45° under the sun feel so nice.  I do belong out there.  The LoBo Trail called out to me like a siren, letting me know everything is alright.  As long as I’m on a trail, running, I’m good.  I’ll be back out tomorrow.

New Traditions

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Matts El Rancho

My family didn’t always meet up for a post-Christmas dinner at Matt’s El Rancho, but now that I think about, I suspect we’ve been doing this for well over a decade.  For this extended family, it’s become a new tradition.  I imagine it appears to you that I’m seated at the end of the table in this photo, but I assure you that from my perspective, I was seated at the head of the table.  There’s an upside-down world reference in there somewhere.

I generally end my blog year with a contemplative post, introspective, thankful and hopeful for the year ahead.  Absent any running exploits to focus this running blog on though, it’s been a sappy December and such content has become my new genre.  I’m a regular Hallmark channel.  Doesn’t bother me though because I welcome change.  I suggested I might stop blogging altogether in my last post but what I suspect I’ll do instead is simply post stories with less regularity, and put more thought into them.

family

The photo above is of my family at my mom’s house on Christmas Eve.  She is currently in the hospital with a chest cold.  Born in September, 1933, she is 84 years old.  On the drive back home, my kids speculated on how we would celebrate Christmas when our grandparents are no longer there for us to visit.  Our traditions will evolve, likely around the new families my kids themselves will bring forth into this world.  Christmas without my mom and in-laws is something I don’t think about and prefer not to until the time comes.  There are still plenty of good memories to be made without dwelling on sad thoughts.

It’s like which side of the table I’m sitting on.  Am I avoiding conflict?  I would argue no.  I know the future will come, and I’m an optimist.  Making the most of the now is the benefit afforded to optimists.  This was a dark year for many.  I felt it as much as any other social liberal, climate concerned conservationist, or secular scientist.  I’ve refrained from sharing my political views since the primaries because, well partly because I became bored with it, but mostly because I prefer to turn my attention away from negative discussion.  I know that must make me sound like a pussy, it’s certainly not very aggressive.  I’m not that way at my job, but I am outside of work.  I’m not a protester.

graffiti wall

This photo is of the girls with their cousins the other day at the graffiti wall in Austin.  The two blondes are mine.  I can assure you, they are a passionate bunch.  Not me.  I believe the best approach to all this year’s hate-mongering speeches on campus would have been not to protest – to not attend at all.  Ignore them.  Don’t attend.  Don’t feed the beast.  Sure, physical aggression requires counter aggression.  But the hate-filled loudspeakers operating in today’s media only exist on the attention we afford them.  I think I learned this at age eight from an episode of Star Trek.

My favorite TV is the news.  This makes me a fairly boring person in conversations, but I can’t help it.  Still, I stopped watching the news this past year, after the primaries, once I determined it was only making me feel worse.  Occasionally, when there was a big week of news, I’d allow myself to watch Rachel Maddow for a couple of nights.  I mean, who else do you know that can giggle throughout their entire newscast?  I still read the morning paper but for the most part, I no longer watch the news.  I decided it wasn’t helping me, so another new tradition.  I now watch Murdoch Mysteries.  I think enough seasons remain to carry me through 2018.

I feel good about myself when I’m able to change my pattern.  I can’t say it means growth but do feel that change is usually good.  It bothers me to know just how predictable, just how pattern-bound, I am at times.  Blogging every weekend for 8 years.  Running every day.  A drink every night.  A relative commented to me over the holidays he noticed I wasn’t drinking.  He thought I’d quit.  I haven’t but I’ve gone a week now without drinking.  I quit for half a year in 2014 when I had cancer because I couldn’t drink half a beer without finding myself sitting in a dark room listening to Pink Floyd.  I don’t mind a little melancholy but that was time in my life when maintaining positive thoughts were paramount, so I simply quit drinking.  Don’t feed the beast.  Of course, I was happy to start drinking again because that signified I had moved on.

New Years resolutions are all about change.  Change is good.  At least, it can be.  Embrace it.  Set some goals for yourself for 2018.

Pensive Thoughts on Blogging, on Writing, on the Year

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iStock tech gap

This was the first photo I ever blogged, on December 31, 2009.  I suppose I started blogging at work a few years before that, but it was the same photo that I started with.  I don’t consider myself visually-oriented.  If you’ve seen me dress, you’d agree, but I generally give attention to my blog photos because I feel they oftentimes tell the story better than I can in words.

I’ve been thinking about putting my blog on hiatus for a few months.  I don’t know that I will but it’s fair to say I haven’t been putting much thought into my blog stories lately, and that makes me a bit sad.  It used to be I would curate my thoughts all week before finally capturing the story into words over the weekend.  Even some of my longer posts only take me five or ten minutes to write because I’ve already written the stories in my head.

I should perhaps reword my statement above and say I haven’t been putting stories into my thoughts lately, because that’s how I think.  I wouldn’t say I’m a vocal storyteller.  I lean towards laconic.  But my pattern of thinking is to structure free thoughts into stories.  I imagine I have the same thoughts roaming around my mind as anyone else, but I typically form a narrative for them.  It’s clear to me that I should have considered a career in journalism back in college, but then writing is and has been one of the strongest components of my job and career.  From the fifty or so emails I type every day to the PowerPoints I create for Sellers and Customers.  I’ll be putting a few hours into creating a story today for how my company markets security information and event management.  In a PowerPoint form factor of course.

Working on a Sunday segues into why I might pause my blogging.  Not that I don’t have the time, as I already said it takes very little effort for me to actually write.  It’s that my free thoughts are so focused on work right now.  And I haven’t been reading much fiction lately, which has always been my muse.  I suspect I’m going through a boring phase so why write about it?

It is my personal digital platform to leverage for marketing my book, but it’s not like I’m doing anything now in that arena either.  Ellie said she would build me a website for my writing over Christmas break, maybe that will replace my blog.  I stopped blogging back in 2014 for over a month and no one seemed to notice.

I think what I’m struggling with here is that I don’t want to blog if I don’t have anything halfway interesting to share.  It is a good exercise even if I have nothing clever to say.  It helps me to be introspective.  And it’s practice writing.  I have a good friend whose writing I love to read.  Every paragraph is like a Dali painting.  Each sentence a masterpiece in creativity.  Yet he rarely writes because he says it’s a struggle and he doesn’t enjoy the process.

I’m the exact opposite.  I can write about nothing and find it easy.  That might actually be a bad habit that blogging isn’t helping me with.  If you’re a writer, than you are familiar with the strong attitudes authors have toward blogging.  They either say it’s a good exercise and serves as a marketing platform, or they despise it as cheapening the medium.  I’m asking myself that question now.  I’m wondering if it’s in my interest to continue or to take a break.  We’ll see.

It Ain’t the Miles Darlin’

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iStock drunk

Is it too early to set some new years resolutions?  I thought mine through on an eight mile run today.  Plural, because I might need more than one to get to where I want to be.  I’ve gained twenty pounds over the last twelve months.  Unless you’ve gained more than that, I expect you to agree with me that I shouldn’t wait to start until January.

My weight realignment though won’t target a return to 165 pounds.  That was unnaturally thin.  It served its purpose to run some really fast times.  I set PRs in every distance from the 5K to marathons over the last few years.  Under 20 minutes for the 5K, a 43 minute 10K, and a 3:30 marathon.  I enjoy racing but it’s not worth looking prepubescent.  And I can probably still maintain an 8 minute marathon pace at 175 pounds.  So my first resolution is to return to 175 pounds, which is the weight I was at for several years before dropping to 165.

My next goal is highly related to the first, because it’s how I’m going to lose weight.  I’ve learned enough over the last eight years to know that I experience weight gain and loss much more dramatically from alcohol consumption than running.  Harrison Ford was wrong, it’s not the miles darlin’, it’s the drinking.  I quit drinking for much of 2014 and that was largely responsible for my weight loss.  Probably due to my age but it was strangely difficult to start drinking again.  I rarely finished my drink, that is until this year when I seemed to rediscover my sea legs.  That has to stop, and it will.

Third goal is more complicated, yet still related in a way.  I might have gone a couple of decades without having any personal goals, until I got back into fitness around 2009-2010.  Since then I believe I’ve become more goal oriented.  Not always personal fitness goals.  Last year I slouched towards the intellectual by writing a novel.  This year I changed employers, after twenty-three years at IBM.  Both those endeavors took some commitment.  Problem is, the focus is so one dimensional.

I’ve put some real effort into learning my new job.  Twelve hour work days.  Another four on Sundays.  Which explains why I’m no longer running much.  Worse, I’m not doing anything productive at the end of the work day.  I uncork a Malbec and I’m done.  I don’t like that my interests are so myopic.  A full day should be more than just work.  More than just working out.  Like two sides to a coin.  Man and woman, husband and wife.  I don’t want to be like Tom Wolfe’s A Man in Full, one dimensional for years at a time.  I want to get the job done at the office, enjoy dinner with the family, and exercise a personal hobby before going to bed.  Nothing exceptional, but both halves of each day  complete in every way.

That’s what I want for myself in 2018.  My idea of a full day.  It’s not enough to just focus in one area.  Alcohol is a massive productivity killer, so I expect limiting consumption will increase my bandwidth in other pursuits.  I’m not looking for anything dramatic, I’ve had enough of that.  I know that I went through the middle-aged, little red sports car moment in 2014.  I’m conscious of the vitality kick.  After sporting a buzz cut for ten years I let my bangs grow down to my chin and ran more miles than Meb.  My bangs are growing shorter again with each hair cut.  I’m ready for some normalcy in 2018.  But normalcy doesn’t just return on its own.  Hoping my resolutions will help steer me straight through life’s winding road.