A Medicinewoman's Life on the Run

Le Tour

2009-07-08T20:45:00.000-07:00

Le Tour started today. They started with a time trial. Our Tour de Fort started with a day in the mountains.

Guy was bent on riding up Rist Canyon. Rist is “The Ride” in the Fort Collins area. I wasn’t feeling quite so spunky. But then, I rarely do. So we finally got our bikes together and got ready to ride. The clouds were building and I was almost hoping for rain as we rode out. I was dragging even going over Bingham Hill. This did not bode well for Rist.

The Rist Canyon ride is over 12 miles for a 2200-3000 ft altitude gain depending on who you believe. Near the top, it’s rumored to be a 12% grade. Regardless, it’s a puker of a ride. I say that only because of what I was doing on the way up. Guy, on the other hand, was riding up and looping back to see how I was doing.

It’s a lovely ride. Penstemon and Indian blankets flank the road. The grass is green from the recent rains and the pine beetle hasn’t affected the trees. Birches are 1 ½ feet in diameter. There isn’t much of a shoulder but there were almost more bikes than cars. We had purposely opted not to ride around the Res since there would be lots of traffic there on July 4. We guessed correctly.

Riding up, we came upon a few riders heading up the canyon. None of them sounded especially jazzed about riding to the top once they were into the climb. Perhaps that is the tone that breathlessness gives to everyone’s voice. I was pleased that I didn’t get passed by anyone (except Guy looping around) except while we were stopped to take a call on the pager. No doubt that rider would have passed me in motion but I am sticking to my story anyway.

About 2/3 of the way up, there is a huge meadow where things level out. It was a nice break and a chance to gawk at houses we wouldn’t mind having if we ever hit the lotto. Then the climbing started again. The clouds were looking particularly ominous and I couldn’t help but think if it started raining I might have an excuse to turn around. I was already contemplating doing so because I was pretty sure I had been out of pager range for longer than was appropriate. But I did not turn around and it did not start raining… until I reached the top.
When we hit the top, Guy and I stopped briefly. It was beginning to sprinkle but we had earned a quick look at the view. By the time we got to the second turn (less than 200 yards) it was really starting to rain. And as we descended, so did the raindrops. My saddle has an indentation so the girly bits don’t get sore or numb. It became a puddle of cold rainwater that was flowing over my backside. With each pedal stroke a river of cold rainwater followed the calf of my straightening leg down into my shoe, a tiny cold blast on each stroke.

I am normally a chicken on a steep downhill, giving a new meaning to the term “screaming downhill.” This long downhill on wet pavement had the distinct chance of becoming treacherous if not lethal. Nonetheless, we picked up speed, even around the curves. I’m pretty sure we exceeded the 35 mph speed limit more than once. When I did look at my bike computer I remember seeing 33 mph several times. No doubt I wasn’t necessarily checking it during the fastest bits. The ride down took just over ¼ the time it took to ride up. Rain continued to pour on us as we made our way through the towns of Bellevue and La Porte. I learned quickly not to get too close to Guy’s back wheel lest I become a human mud flap. Not that it mattered since I was riding for all I was worth to get to a hot shower anyway.

More later….

A Month of Sundays

2009-06-14T14:43:00.000-07:00

Sunday is fast becoming my favorite day of the week. It is the one morning I can sleep in as long as I don't feel to pressured to get in a run or ride early. It is a day of having people hanging about working in their yards or watching the kids play in the street. It's a day of partly ignoring the to-do list and partly working through it. Sometimes procrastination can be productive in spite of itself.

I woke up this morning to the insistent whine of the pager letting me know someone else wasn't having such a restful morning. My packet sitting on the dining table called me to do what I "should" be doing. I paid attention to the pager and ignored the packet. Guy was already out in the garage making sawdust and noise. I'm sure much more productive things were going on out there but if I acknowledge them I won't have any excuses to make him do dishes.

I opened the fridge and took out the last of the farm fresh milk we were trying this week. I brewed up a nice latte to start my day. I thought I'd drink it while washing spinach and then go for my bike ride. I know, washing spinach doesn't seem like a typical Sunday task. It is now. We bought a share in a local organic farm and are getting bags of yummy veggies. Trouble is we are often too busy to eat them all. This week's veggies were picked up on Tuesday - two kinds of radishes, 3 heads of lettuce (green, red, and butter), 1 bunch garlic leaves, 1 bunch chives, 1 bunch garlic chives, 1 bunch cilantro, 1 bunch parsley, 3 lbs of spinach. The hadn't been touched. Last week's veggies weren't all gone either though they had been cleaned and stored in paper towels in the crisper drawer.

I have learned that the produce does best if left in a breathable cloth bag without washing the dirt off, even if it is damp to begin with. Once washed, it needs to be eaten quickly. This week we are trying those "green bags" as seen on TV at the suggestion of a friend. The lettuce and the best of the spinach is divided into a large bag of salad for each of us and some was given to the neighbor for a dinner she is attending tonight. The less-nice spinach has been tucked neatly with zucchini, yellow squash and red sauce between lasagna noodles and layers of mozzerella. A bit of it got tossed into potato kale soup which will be sprinkled with grated gruyere. All of the bell peppers have been stewed into Ropa Viejo with a rump roast for Guy to eat for lunches. And leftover forbidden and brown rice was tossed in with an ailing sweet potato that was sauteed in curry powder and then doused with broth. A few shrimp found their way into that dish and it will provide lunches for me.

Now that I don't have any more cooking to do for the day and have used up all of the veggies, the packet is calling once again. I avoided it a little longer on a bike ride but I'm getting in better shape and the ride gives me less of a reprieve from the reading. I know, a nice shower... that'll be much more enjoyable than reading... and then, I must.

I think, if I could have a month of Sundays it would be a beautiful thing.

Ropa Viejo

To make this dish, I thinly sliced a medium onion and put it in the bottom of the crock. I put in 2 bell peppers, any color, sliced and one package of green chiles (this was ½ package of dynamite chiles) and sprinkled about 2 Tablespoons of cumin on top. I took a beef rump roast (the cut doesn’t really matter) and cut it into 4 large pieces just so it would fit. I poured 2 cans of diced tomatoes on top and cooked it on high for 4 hours. Guy turned it down onto low for about another 2 hours and it was done.

Potato Kale Soup with Gruyere

I took a recipe from a friend and modified it slightly to use the abundance of fresh greens in my refrigerator. I did not have 6 cups of kale but did have some braising greens in addition to a smaller amount of kale. I also had some spinach wilting in the crisper drawer so I added it also. The spinach definitely overpowers the kale so I’d suggest using one or the other. It was quite tasty but with just one or the other would be better. Remember to chop the kale and other greens. It is difficult to eat this if you don’t.

Ingredients

* 2 tablespoons butter or olive oil
* 1 bunch garlic leaves, chopped
* 1 bunch chives, chopped
* 2 quarts chicken broth
* 4 cups coarsely chopped Yukon gold potato (about 1 1/2 pounds)
* 1 sprig rosemary, minced
* 6 cups chopped fresh kale (about 3/4 pound)
* 4 springs thyme leaves
* 9 tablespoons (about 2 ounces) shredded Gruyère cheese
* Fresh chives
* Salt and pepper to taste

Preparation

Melt butter in a large saucepan over medium heat. Add garlic leaves and chives; cook until fragrant and tender, stirring frequently.Stir in broth, potato, fresh ground pepper, and herbs; bring to a boil. Cover, reduce heat, and simmer 25 minutes or until potato is tender. Partially mash potatoes with a potato masher.

Stir in kale and basil. Cover and simmer 10 minutes or until kale is tender. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Top with cheese and chives.

Again

2009-04-08T15:50:00.000-07:00

You are still missing
The space that holds your name echoes
Still
With your absence
When a memory hangs suspended
On a moment

A photo
Hanging suspended
In a café
Reminds me of Petite Teton
Your little running joke
I smile
But a tear drops to the bottom
Of the well

A Buddhist description of the Grand Canyon
Evokes images
Of Palo Duro
Nature’s artwork
Etched indelibly
By your hands and blood

You always talked of the magic of the Canyon
Stories of worn rock
Where the grandmothers ground corn
tales of the presence
of Shaliko
footsteps heard from those unseen
the Roadrunner visiting not by chance

In hindsight
I see that you are both magician and magic
Weaving a tapestry of love and mystery
Mingled with earth and sweat
Creating myth
Now you exist as both
Myth and magic
No longer tangible
But omnipresent in this place
And my thoughts

We were careless with each other
Not out of neglect
But out of comfort
as is the way with those we love the most
Accepting our histories
Excepting a few details
Forgetting faults
Finding the best things to build our friendship on
Having the time of our lives
But never having enough time

Larger than life
Until life could no longer contain you
Your experience showed in
Philosophizin’
But the wild child
And rascal moonshiner in you never grew up
Mischief always gave itself away
In your smile

What is it about death
That I can’t touch you any more
But you can still touch me
When I least expect it

LB
4/8/09

2009-04-08T12:09:00.000-07:00

It seems as though everyone I know is working harder and having less to show for it. I wonder if we should just stop. If we get no where by working, couldn't we be just as successful by working less and playing more?

Today is a gorgeous day.
In this office, I can't get away with "calling in well." There is no way to play hookey when you work with a bunch of doctors. But I can stare out the window and dream. And after work, I can lace up my shoes sweat out the small stuff.

Are we done yet?
Mom, can I go outside and play?

2009-03-22T18:33:00.000-07:00

Last week was hell week. Coming off of a wonderful weekend with my Brother and the kids I was tired but glad to have some joy under my belt.

On call 2 of the 3 days in the office and the whole weekend
one "day off" was spent in an all day meeting in Denver
1800 pages of "stuff" to read, none of it uplifting
dealing with taxes
Saturday night in the urgent care

I was short on sleep, patience, and hadn't cooked anything to eat for the week so I had nothing yummy to soothe my soul.

So the question is, what can I do to make this week better?

1. I slept about 11 hours last night so I'll go into the next week rested.
2. Made a huge pot of fried rice with shrimp to munch for the week
3. making a pot of mushroom barley soup so I have a variety of yums
4. No reading! bought a book of short fiction to read instead
5. Hired a book keeper and will have her do the rest of the tax stuff
6. Scheduled a massage for my day off
7. Starting the week with a date with Guy at New Belgium Brewery
8. Already got in a good swim
9. Starting the week with a clean house and clean laundry
11. Only on call one day this week! YAY

Funk

2009-03-09T18:33:00.000-07:00

Today I started with a good swim. Working on increasing power in my stroke. I did a time trial. 11 min 20 seconds for 500 meters. No Michael Phelps but better than before!

***** My intention was to spin but a very rude person took the bike I had ******
***** "claimed" by putting my shoes on it. I know, get over it. ******

I got to work and, not only did I have my wonderful Paula, I also had the extern to help us while we were on call. She's bright, enjoyable, personable, and professional.

I had 2 new patients today and have another tomorrow. The business is growing gradually. A few patients a day. A handful of "keepers" and a handful of those who will come in randomly when they absolutely have to.

***** Nevermind the patient who I really like that I had to "fire" because of *****
***** issues. Nevermind the frustration of getting charts for med refills of *****
***** patients not seen since 2005. Nevermind the issues of the "practice" and *****
***** dealing with the financial issues of a business that is not a profitable *****
***** business to be in. *****

I came home to the man I love. To the ingredients for green chile enchiladas ready to be thrown into a casserole and heated through.

***** I'm smelling this wonderful smell filling my house and it's not done yet *****

OH YEAH, THAT'S NOT A RANT... THAT'S GOOD!

I know I shouldn't complain. Sometimes ya gotta rant. Now that that's out of my system!

Shawarm-ish

2009-03-01T18:06:00.000-08:00

This has been a good weekend in spite of the fact that Guy has been up sking and I have been home. My to-do list had about a million and one things on it, give or take 3/4 of a million or so. I know, for a fact, that I crossed at least 2 things off my list.

So, the basement trim and doors are painted and the doors hung. The laundry is done. I made a huge crock pot of Ropa Viejo for Guy to eat this week. And I made myself something vaguely resembling Shawarma but made with fish and veggies. It's pretty good for a complete bastardization of a really yummy dish.

Today I was talking to my Mom. She just signed up for her first Tri. I'm so thrilled to hear her so excited by the challenge. I had plans for a good workout but I also had a long to-do list. I wasn't about to skip the workout after talking to Mom!

So I test rode a Specialized Ruby Elite road bike. It's suh-weet! I have a few other bikes to test ride... but I think I'm gonna be really happy to have a bike that fits my shortness.

I went to the Arapahoe Natural Area on the east side of town. Early in the morning it would almost be in the shadow of the evil, even if it is green, Walmart but for the Interstate in between. Being on the east side, it's flat... loops of dirt winding around wide spots in a branch of the Cache La Poudre River that they actually call "lakes." There are signs with the fishing size limits for the anglers who apparently hang out there.

There were no anglers today. A few folks lounging in a rowboat. One guy doing laps around the largest of the "lakes" in a kayak. A 4-pack of ladies on horses having a great time in the river. And me. Well, and a bunch of Canadian Geese who have no intention of heading back north as it warms up. The mountains poked their snowy tops toward the blue and overcast skies. An abandoned farm between me and the mountains gave it a picturesque, rural look though the sounds of the I blared behind me. One piece of farm equipment sat parked on a peninsula into Big Bass Lake with a beautiful pattern carved into the soil where something will soon begin growing.

My loops gave way to the pool. Two straight lanes with 4 people moving back and forth. A liquid treadmill but slightly less boring. 30 minutes was all I could stomach before coming home to my "duties" and my Shawarm-ish. Now, back to work.

Daniel Shore said “Kablooey” on the radio

2009-02-07T19:19:00.001-08:00

Some days I am struck by “sound bites.” Little bits and pieces of things I hear seem to come together into a thought, a story, or a feeling. Today I listened to NPR on the way to Denver and back again. I often listen to NPR to get the news or to get some story to lift me above what the news had to bring me down.

I happen to love listening to Daniel Shore. He is, at once, intelligent and slurred, articulate and sarcastic. But today, he said “Kablooey.” He said it on national air time. If that doesn’t describe the world today, I don’t know what does.

Tonight, I listened to the evening programs… Reviews of movies about little girls and trap doors and moms with no time and button eyes…Reviews of new Off Broadway productions about war in Africa and the new and devastating battlefields. And I heard E-Town with Spoon from Austin and Dar Williams. Toss in a little music off my cds from Carrie Newcomer.

Those things coupled with the state of the world, looking at my taxes and studying for a class on life saving colored my world tonight. This is what came together from all the sound bites.

Ruined
Women’s bodies
turned battleground
destroyed for now
and minefields laid
in case of peace in the future
Such battles are also waged
where there is no war
but there is no peace

No body
gets through this life
without scars
save those who exit as they enter
as if they made a wrong turn
on the way to nirvana

There are other battles
that ravage us without weapons
leaving behind the schrapnel
of loss
Need
Pain
We are left to look at the world
with button eyes
that cannot truly see
afraid to die
but more afraid to live
scratching at the Earth
to turn up dust
and a morsel of hope
or cheese

I count
on the mercy of the fallen
that we will help each other up
that we will pretend
there is no risk
enough to heal each other
to build something firm
where once stood a house of cards
and to make
a life more important
than making a living

I join the chorus of voices
saying “enough”
and hands working
to set things right
My better self
would not question the power of love
but would pick up a shovel
and uncover what is right with the world.

LB
2/7/09

Finding Grace on Skis

2009-02-02T20:04:00.000-08:00

Sometimes Grace tastes a lot like snow
It has the fragrance of joy
And the essence of good friends
It is as clear as a cloudless sky
And has the quiet hiss of sliding
between the moments

It is easy to find Grace
On the top of a mountain
At altitudes too high for angst to breathe
Seemingly farther from the pull of gravity
Closer to the arms of Mother Nature
Or heaven
Or the Sage who sits on top

If, by chance, those niggling thoughts follow you
Grace will help you escape
For a while
By showing you the white spaces between the trees
And the secret stashes of powdery snow that muffle everything
And by reminding you to let go
Of that belly laugh and whoop that is bubbling up
From deep inside

Grace always lingers
In the edges of your mind
Waiting for the chance to touch you
Or to push you over the edge
Into the experience that is life.

2/2/09
LB

Remembering

2009-01-31T19:11:00.001-08:00

Some nights are for remembering

Stumbling across old poetry
I watch Harley age in print
And though his body has faded
I can feel the softness of the hair on his neck
Against my cheek
And the familiar ache
Of missing his warm unconditional love

Remembering
What it felt like to run well
And what it felt like
The last time I relearned
And worked so hard to get in shape

Despite the cold winter
My body remembers the heat of sun
Warming Red soil and my bones
Amidst the swirling Spanish Skirts
And the sound of Red’s voice
Spreading warm joy across my face

I am remembering friends from long ago
Friends found again
And friends long lost
There is bitter sweetness
In the passing of time

Tomorrow when I wake
I will forget this bit of nostalgia
And buckle myself into a new day
On the snow with new friends
Until I stumble across old poetry
And spend another night remembering.

1/30/09
LB

January evening - what winter is all about

2009-01-25T18:47:00.000-08:00

Ahhhhh. This is what winter is all about. I just got out of a very hot shower. The temp in the house is finally above 60 degrees. And I am snuggled up in my Big Red bathrobe. No, it's not red, though it is slightly big. It's a robe that my dear friend Big Red had made for me with my name embroidered on it. Big Red was one of the loves of my life. If only he'd been 30 years younger! Even in his 70s he was sexy in a gentlemanly way. So kind, so sweet. He was a good friend and a travel buddy. He would warm this robe while I showered and leave in on a hook for me as I got out. I miss him, terribly.

I'm just in from a ski weekend. It was a weekend with the Bettys. Keystone Resort in Summit County, CO does a fabulous weekend of women skiers and women coaches. There's nothing like it. I feel sorry for the guys because they can't even really understand... Bettyfest... it's a woman thing! I met the coolest bunch of women. I've done this 5 times and I've met a huge bunch of really neat women who ski way beyond what you can imagine. They love snow. They love hills. They love bumps and trees and steeps. They want to get better and better. And they do!

This time I had a really neat coach, Joey. I've skied with Joey a time or two but never had her as a coach. She focuses on the positive but still gives you something to work on. I got a lot of new things out of this clinic. Whenever we go to the Bettyfest, all the "go for it ATV" women want to ski with Annie. That's because Annie really goes for it and teaches a lot of good stuff. She's a fabulous coach. Sometimes it's good to hear a different perspective. Another way of saying basically the same thing. That's what Joey did this time and some things really clicked. Guy was jealous that I got to ski with Joey, now I know why.

I met some really cool women to ski with too. I love skiing with the guys but sometimes they degrade into being "guys" and have to out-testosterone each other. It hurts when you try to do that... I don't like pain. When you ski with women, you push each other but a little bit more gently. It's not about drawing blood, it's about having fun, learning something new, and building a friendship. It's about having an experience you can build on next time. Remembering what that really cool set of turns felt like.

I do a lot of sports. Running, biking, skiing, swimming. I have a set of friends for each. And a lot of them cross the boundaries. There is nothing like those friendships.

So, after a good ski weekend and a hot shower, I sit on the sofa and share the beauty of the experience with anyone who wants to read this blog. And later, I'll snuggle down in my warmed bed (electric blanket to get it warm before I even get in) with the most wonderful man in the world... sorry ladies, I'm keeping him... he's the best ever. And I'll dream about next weekend.... on the slopes... in the snow... with great friends.

This is what winter is all about.

Who cares

2009-01-21T17:54:00.000-08:00

How does one get to the point where a day dedicated to doing good for others can seem so darned hard? When I can be exhausted and drained from doing what I love to do. Wow!

I am so frustrated by the lack of concern and caring for others. In my profession, the Hippocratic Oath says "first do no harm." It does not say "then do nothing else."

I am appalled at the practice of giving someone a diagnosis and then saying "bye bye." No information on how to follow up, what to do, how to live with that diagnosis, or where it came from.

I feel that I am working very hard to put the CARE back in health care... and I wish my colleagues would do the same.

I am tired. I am going home where I hope someone will care for me with a nice meal.

What Will You Do?

2009-01-20T18:44:00.001-08:00

January 20, 2009

In the big picture, nothing has changed. But everything has changed.

We now have a president who speaks in full sentences.
We have a president who can pronounce the word nuclear.
We have a country and, in fact, perhaps a whole world poised to make change with the hope for something better.

If everyone hoping that the inauguration of President Obama will make a change, works for change, we will have the change we desire.

So, what are you going to do?
What is your part of the change?

So far:
I have committed to join a local organic farm and purchase a share of their produce for the year. Both for my health and the health of the environment.
I have also committed to a sizeable (though painful) donation to the local shelter/food bank - others need it more than I do.
And I'm going to get involved with some of the groups working on change for the healthcare system so that it can be about both health and caring instead of neither.

New Day

2009-01-19T19:49:00.001-08:00

Tonight the world is poised to make a huge leap forward. The albatross that is around our neck (W) will be gone tomorrow. And in his place, is hope.

I don't really expect our new President to be a miracle worker. But I am excited to see the readiness people have for what he will bring. It is not so much the man but the fact that everyone seems inspired. Everyone seems willing to do their part. No one I see is expecting to sit back in the Lazyboy and watch the world change. They are all rolling up their sleeves.

If this impulse continues, the world WILL change.

I have hope. My sleeves are also rolled up. My hammer is ready to build something new.

Vegging Out

2009-01-18T19:31:00.000-08:00

Last night was one of those really great nights. I went down to Colorado Springs and spent the day/evening with Ken and Colleen. As is the usual for us, it involved some great time outdoors, some great catching up, some nice wine, and a nice meal.

On the way down, I stopped by the Asian grocery and picked up a bunch of good eats. We hiked the 7 bridges trail and went up Gold Camp Road to the second bridge. It was all very snowy but about 50 degrees air temp. Lovely. Then we sampled the new brews at Trinity Brewing. Mmmmm. And finally to the house for an Asian Fusion night of Vietnamese Spring Rolls and Thai Drunken Noodles.

Tonight, by contrast, I'm heating up some new veggie meatballs (a new brand called Quorn) in diced tomatoes over pasta. I can't complain though, the reason I didn't cook Thai was some nice wine and cheese with friends (fabulous people) here in Fort Collins.

It's all good!

Fashion Crisis

2009-01-15T19:50:00.001-08:00

Or
How I Learned My Lesson About Ddrinking and Driving

It was that time of the month again. Today was the culmination of a week of being slightly crabby, slightly over-tired, and slightly stressed which ends in the Colorado Board of Medical Examiners meeting. I dutifully read my 1300 + page packet filled with stories of goodness and light (well, not quite).

This morning, I got up at 5 a.m. Instead of tossing on sweats to go to the gym, I had to wear “professional clothing.” The board consists of doctors, lay people, and attorneys. We often have hearings with more attorneys and their clients whose stories have appeared in our packets. Everyone is well dressed.

Today, I selected a soft rayon blouse that has an oblique flare to mid thigh. It is taupe with Asian lettering all over it. It’s also cool enough to wear in the hot little room our meetings occupy. It’s a gorgeous blouse and looks great over a very soft pair of brown slacks. Not usually a fashionista, I was going to enjoy wearing this nice outfit.

As usual, I treated myself to a venti decaf nonfat latte for my drive down to Denver. I settled into my foggy drive with NPR to keep me company and sipped my latte. It was hot, so I let it cool a bit.

The drive seemed to take forever with the fog. I was able to move at a decent rate of speed but it still seemed like forever before I went the 40 miles to Longmont. By then, my coffee was only about ¼ gone and was still toasty but cool enough to start really drinking. So I picked it up to take a drink and proceeded to drop the entire cup, top down, into my lap.

I felt the warm coffee pool in the nice blouse. Then I felt it flood through the fabric and onto my legs, the seat, and finally settle at the back of the seat under my rear end. Damn, drinking and driving is definitely not a good thing to do.

I stopped at the first gas station and changed into the sweats that were in my gym bag in the back. I put a towel over the seat to soak up whatever coffee might ooze from the upholstery. I turned the car around and drove the 40 miles back home to change clothes. Then, I turned around again and drove to Denver WITHOUT coffee. I was late (or perhaps I should say latte) for the meeting but hadn’t missed too much. I explained my tardiness as a Fashion Crisis… wearing a non-caffeineated, non-fat latte is not professional attire.

I learned my lesson…
Next time I will carry a second set of clothes in case my latte gets rowdy.

How much can you cram in?

2009-01-09T20:26:00.001-08:00

It's not really a "new years resolution" but Guy and I made a pact to work out a minimum of 2x/week. If we don't succeed we each owe a charity $100/week. so I started working out a bit more. We made up a log with a base training program. Arbitrary workouts tossed onto an excel sheet. But, I'm trying to stick to it. I have one run left in the next two days to achieve my week's worth. And I finished the two workouts needed to spare myself a big payment on the first day this week.

So it's Friday night and I'm wiped out. Guy is putting greenboard up in the bathroom so we have a place to practice tiling before we do the kitchen counter. We'll also get our second bathroom functional out of it.

I just painted the closet door and trim for the bedroom... the last few things besides putting my clothes away. I have to get a couple more of those wire baskets for the top of the closet for my workout clothes.

It was a good week at work. I had a minimum of 10 people every day. Whee! And I got credentialed for working at the Urgent Care part time. So now I can start a second job in my spare time.

A Fresh Year

2009-01-02T20:41:00.001-08:00

Kinda like a whiteboard or blackboard that's freshly cleaned... lots of markers or chalk and time to create. It's a new year. It's a Friday. What a combo!

This morning I ran. I was struck by how new it all is (that's a euphemism for being out of shape). I injured myself a couple years back and have been mostly a slug ever since except in the pool. I've done a handfool of runs but am so out of shape.

So today, I ran. Ouch. My wheels are very rusty. But the rust started falling off today and every day that I run, more rust will fall off. I may resort to WD 40 but I'll get myself moving again. Tinman after a huge thunderstorm and a swim in the salty sea... I'll creak myself into action.

I also went to work. It was a full afternoon. That bodes well for the new year. This will be the start of a very busy work year. Full days and lots of good stuff for people. I see this as the sign of what is to come.

Some people are skeptical that 2009 will be different that 2008. But I have hope. Hope that things will grow, change, and be renewed. The world will be a better place. America will be a better place. People will be better. I believe people are inherently good and this year they will begin to embody that.

Don't burst my bubble... believe with me!

Trashing 2008

2009-01-01T07:21:00.001-08:00

It was a fitting way for 2008 to end... a trashy ending.

Actually, 2008 had some really great things. Because of 2008, I live in Fort Collins with the love of my life. I have a job with a practice that is solvent. I have a fun little house that is very nearly liveable... and I finally have a bedroom.

But 2008 saw some struggles to get where we are today. We lost several dear friends. Our finances took a beating, just like everyone else.

Last night our friends Marty and Laura hosted a "White Trash New Years." We closed the office early for the Eve and I headed to Goodwill for a shopping spree. I had invited Alexis who was doing a similar shopping trip in the Springs with her sister.

We were scheduled to bring a dessert and Paula suggested we bring a "Better Than Sex" cake. Apparently a lot of people get pretty lousy sex because there are dozens of recipes by this name. I chose a cake with a Devil's Food Base. While it's hot, you drown it in condensed milk, caramel sauce, and crushed Heath Bars. Then it cools and gets topped with cool whip. I added maraschino cherries just because I think they are trashy.

We arrived at the party having a knock down, drag out fight. Guy was shouting about what a terrible woman I am because I was screaming at him for sleeping with my "sister" (played by Alexis). It was quite an entrance and played well to the black eye we had made with eye shadow. The party deteriorated from there into chatting with friends and a killer game of "Beer Pong" in the garage. Even the lawn ornaments had a good time.

And now it's on to 2009. We'll be moving into the bedroom today and I'm thrilled at the prospect. I expect a nap will be in my near future.

Co-inky-dink

2008-12-15T20:15:00.000-08:00

Today at lunch, I ate something simple out of the fridge at work. This is likely to be a dangerous adventure but not for the reasons I experienced today. Today Paula was the gutsy one, eating leftover cold pizza from last Thursday. I opted for my frozen Amy's organic burrito and a yogurt.

i promise I thawed the burrito... I really did. But by the time lunch was over, I had a small chip out of one of my front teeth. It was very sharp and threatened my tongue. My tongue seemed intrigued and wouldn't stay away.

Then I remembered that about 2 weeks ago we went to a wine tasting. The host introduced us to a new DO here in town whose wife is a dentist. So, I started calling around until I found her. She fixed my tooth straightaway and suggested I send her some patients in return.

Thank you

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I woke up this morning with the electric blanket still on from last night. How fitting that yesterday ended in an 18 below chill.

I realized that I get to wake up and go to work. My world goes on as before. Not so for some others in the neighborhood. I feel for them. But I have to remember to feel what is mine to feel. I send them love, peace, and warmth. It seems like so little but it is what I have to give.

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My computer at work got renamed today. It got named "Sparky." Unfortunately, that also means the my computer at work doesn't work any more. It'll be a week or so before I get a new one.

All I know is it's a bad thing when you let the smoke out.

Cold

2008-12-14T21:12:00.000-08:00

White smoke curling against ashen skies
dirty snow ground into dark asphalt
a running man
in leaden sweats
heaves his way across a steel bridge

Color
has drained from this icy world
with dawn bringing bad news
even the holy ground
is too frozen to bury the dead

The living heap their grief
like fuel
on some cold fire
and shed steaming tears
that disappear into dust

I run away
to return only
when night has blanketed the world
in forgiving darkness
the yellow light of windows
giving the illusion of heat

Silouettes of comfort
talking
against the back drop of artificial light
there is nothing we can do
to heal hearts cracked wide by loss
except to hold their name in warmth

I would gather those I love
close to me
more for peace than protection
and touch them with hope
that there will always be tomorrow

LB
12/13/08

The Bottom Line

2008-12-09T17:56:00.000-08:00

The bottom line has sunk nearly all the way to hell. The balance sheet is decidedly unbalanced. And I feel like I'm spinning my wheels and making a trench in the mud.

A few years back, Reverend Lawrence did a series of seminars on Abundance. I wish I had those sermons to listen to now. He talked at length about the perception of "lack." I'm feeling kind of stuck there now.

I don't have any real lack... just this anticipation and sense that it's hovering around me like a buzzard waiting to pounce on the carrion of my budget.

I have a house. I can pay the heating bill. I have a wonderful man who loves me. There is always food to put on the table. My ski pass is already paid for, it costs nothing to go play save a bit of money for gas and those prices have bottomed out nicely.

So what's my problem?

I've been paid a bit more than I actually earned and am looking at paying my employer for the last month of the year. My income is about 1/2 what it was 2 years ago. I'm being asked to buy into the practice at a price that will nearly equal our house payment each month. And today, I had so few patients that my Medical Assistant made more money at her pathetic hourly rate than I did. My schedule for tomorrow is equally abysmal and Thursday I have no patients at all.

So now what? How do I get myself out of dwelling on that and remembering all of the wonderful abundance in my life? Maybe it's time to think about or get in touch with those who really do have a lot of lack... to donate my money and time at the local shelter. I miss my work with the homeless... it kept me grounded and in balance. But there is no work to be done with them up here. So maybe I should go serve meals... I can't care for them in the way I'm used to but perhaps I can spread a little caring in a different way. And be reminded what real lack looks like.

Winter Wondering Land

2008-12-04T09:24:00.001-08:00

I remember the first snow
a few years ago
looking back
down the hill
in morning twilight
to see my footprints
paralled by Harley’s tracks

This morning
I went back to bed
rather than run alone
or dig out for the slick drive to the pool.
No cold nose
pushed me from my excuses

I dreamt last night
of another running friend
Some days, I’m amazed
how much he is on my mind
You don’t really know
what a difference the presence of another makes
until they are no longer present

Snow
will keep all but the sickest away
And I will get to sneak out early
to put on the running shoes
that are on ice in my car
Cold numbs me
to how bad they are itching
for a run

My missing friends
will join me in spirit
and I wonder
if I look sideways over my shoulder
how many sets of prints
I will see

LB 12/4/08
With loving memories of Red Spicer and Harley Bean

Random Thots

2008-12-04T07:40:00.000-08:00

Today was our first real snow here in Fort Collins. I woke up to go to the gym and saw a couple inches on everything. I went back to bed rather than shovel snow at 5 a.m. to go get into a pool.

I woke up again at 7 and had to rush to leave for work. AT the last minute I was frantically shovelling 6 inches of snow and sweeping it off my car.

Snow makes our little off-white/gray house look even more drab. When we redecorate the outside we'll have to go with a more jazzy color. The front porch looks like a layer cake to me. It's treacherous in good weather. I'm not sure it's safe in this stuff.

Let Them Eat... Hot Chocolate

So there's a recession on, is there? Well, you wouldn't know it looking at the Williams Sonoma catalog. They have a Hot Chocolate Machine in there for $99. I have a hot chocolate machine. It's called a spoon. You put it in the mug with the ingredients and stir. If I wanna get fancy, I can use a whisk. Either of these can be bought used for less than a buck.

I am thankful for Plenty

2008-11-30T18:51:00.001-08:00

If I Should Die Before I Wake

Seriously! If something ever happens to Guy and Me, please, send someone right away to empty the fridge and freezer directly into some soup kitchen! None of this should go to waste. I have the phrase, “Because I come from the land of plenty” stuck in my head. Maybe because I just heard Collin Hay of Men without Hats on the radio yesterday or maybe because that’s what my fridge looks like.

THIS! This is not cleanup from Thanksgiving dinner! This is cleanup from the leftovers!

We have a fridge stocked to the gills for lunches and dinners this week. And the freezer is full too (well, ok, 90% is roasted green chiles but you get the point).

One of these days I really do need to cook for a shelter.

Another thought for the day… If you want to make people happy, learn to tell a joke or buy a really good stock pot!

Turkey noodle soup
Leftover thanksgiving meals
Red lentil curry with swiss chard
Apple sauce (home made)
Janet’s cranberry and orange sauce
Turkey for sandwiches

Anyone goes hungry in this house, it’s their own fault!

Thanksgiving without the pictures

2008-11-30T18:44:00.000-08:00

Menu:
Oven Roasted Turkey seasoned with drywall dust
Joint compound and roasted garlic mashers
Blown in insulation stuffing
Hard hat brussels sprouts
# 10 Molly Asparagus

There is nothing like preparing Thanksgiving dinner (even 2 days late) in a construction zone. It gives the meal a flavor all its own.

Guy was working at his usual frantic pace to get the kitchen in working order, once again, so I could cook Thanksgiving dinner. I ran (literally) to Ace Hardware to get him parts they didn’t have. So I went to Home Depot and dragged our neighbor Janet along while we picked up her
long lost wallet.

When I arrived home, it was
time for the turkey to be in the
oven. The construction was still under way. I began preparing the stuffing in the dining room until there was enough room amidst the construction supplies on the kitchen counter.

I had brined the turkey in a cooler in the upstairs bath tub. After all, we have squirrels that could easily open the cooler and cart off a whole turkey, so I couldn’t put the cooler outside. No telling what’s living in the garage. And we don’t use the bath tub anyway since there are no walls around it. After the turkey had it’s bath, it rested in a roasting pan behind the ladder until I had room on the counter.

Eventually the soffet was built, spackles, and the defects in the wall were repaired. The pot rack was hung and the wiring to the plug beside the stove as well as a light switch to the lights over the sink. The kitchen was ready for cooking. 1 ½ hrs late so the cooking plan was changed to the high temp version.

Next the dining room was
cleaned and made ready.

As Guy was finishing rewiring the downstairs bathroom… just because he hadn’t done enough in the early part of the day, the guests arrived.

Alexis came up from Denver. Janet came from next door and brought Peaches, Sonny, and Buster to help clean the floor. Fortunately, I’d removed any construction by products that might harm them and left the floor clean enough to eat from.

Peaches, Sonny, and Buster are clearly neglected and on the verge of abused. It is obvious that Janet never feeds them and they are so love starved… At least that’s what they’d have you believe.

Sonny is normally afraid of Guy. He will occasionally come to Guy if he lies on the floor. But, if he also gives a few snitches of
turkey, it’s a whole different story.

Nothing like a holiday weekend to get a few things done.

Kill count:
2 Thanksgiving dinners eaten (each)
1 compost bin
5 GFI outlets installed
1 light switch installed
1 set track lighting now working
1 soffet installed around wires and gas line in kitchen
1 kitchen wall spackled
1 light fixture rewired
2 ceiling tiles replaced
1 closet painted
1 turkey roasted
1 Furnace rewired
1 Laundry room rewired
1 pot rack bought and hung
1 overhead light rewired
1 roman shade for bedroom and valence made
1 duvet cover made
1 sink repaired
4 trips to Home Depot
1 trip to Ace Hardware
1 garbage disposal rewired

Oh, and there’s another day left!

Gr-Attitude

2008-11-25T20:36:00.001-08:00

Winter is nigh upon us
and the wind whistles at the door
as if to say
cold!
cold!
stay in where it's warm

Only the brave and foolish venture out
the rest of us
huddle behind steamy cups
and under fleecy hats

We are called to come play
to warm ourselves
by the fire within our spirit
and the friction
of sinew against bone

We are taunted by the crisp light
of stars
brighter against the blackness of cold
and the crunch and clatter of leaves
skittering across the trail

When we overcome the fatness of comfort
and layer ourselves into our shoes
the giddy ground rises and falls beneath us
pulling us onward
toward adventure

Tomorrow the trail may be hidden in snow
The rocks may be iced with treachery
But there will be another chance to run
away from winter
and another reason
for thanks giving

Lisa B
11/25/08

Jerk Stew another weekend in paradise

2008-11-23T18:45:00.000-08:00

Last week was a busy one, what with the State Board Meeting and all. I spent two nights and two days in Denver so we decided to take a break this weekend. Haaaa Haaaa hah! Now that I’m done laughing…
We did take a break Friday night. Seems it was Matt Quinlan’s birthday so we went out to celebrate. Unfortunately, my Car-ma wasn’t up to snuff and I got stuck in traffic. Made it to O’Dell’s brewery about 20 minutes before closing in plenty of time for a cold one. That lunchtime salad wasn’t enough food for the day so I let Guy drive to dinner. Better, after a pile of heavy Mexican food, we drove home to drop off a car and ended up staying home after Guy imploded from his busy week (including coming to see me for dinner in Denver… but that’s another story).

Saturday started with business as usual… an early trip to Home Depot. Several errands later and the work began. The forecast for Sunday had looked wintry early in the week but they had changed it. Nonetheless, winterizing was on the list. I planted the herbs I’d bought for the cold frame (Thai Basil, oregano, parsley, sage) and Guy raked leaves. I set up a basement paint shop and proceeded to start painting the frames for the screens that fit the windows and the shelves for the closet. I got a good start before stopping to make pizzas before we were scheduled to go to the final show for the band 12 Cents for Marvin.

Oops… no oven. So we grilled the pizzas and they were fab! The mozzerella was naughty… Then it was my turn to implode. The week and the day caught up with me. It was a slow bike ride to the concert but the music was good once it started. We came home early but it will still be an early night tonight!

Sunday started much the way Saturday had… a trip to Home Depot. Then I got back into the painting and Guy got into the attic. He was working, among other things, on hooking up the stove so that he can have a turkey for Thanksgiving. Seems a bit like canabalizm to me to eat one of your own… but who am I to judge.

After many new words were invented and much painting was done, I finally heard Guy bellow “Woman, get into the kitchen and cook me some food.” Something about the manly art of wiring that makes someone who is normally rational bellow about obedience… ;-) No doubt my Mom and Dad could have clued him in to a realistic idea about me and the concept of obedience… But, I gamely went to the kitchen to enjoy my new stove/oven and cook him an appropriately fine batch of, none other than, Jerk Stew. No, no! I really mean that, Jerked Chicken as a stew (recipe to follow). It wasn’t nearly done by the time he went to Hockey but it will be ready to eat tomorrow and, best I can tell, will be a “do-over”… meaning that it will be made again… until I get it exactly right.

As should be obvious by now, this is totally in jest, except that Guy did get the oven working and I did make Jerk stew. While I am certain that Guy is perfectly capable of being a Jerk, I’ve never seen it… and while I’m sure I’m perfectly capable of being obedient, nobody has, or will, ever see it.

Tally for the weekend:

Trips to Home depot 2
Ovens connected 1
Track lighting installed 1
Loads of Laundry 4
Screens painted 4
Indoor Storms Made 10 (remember these from College?)
Herbs Planted 6
Leaves Raked tens of thousands
Thermostats installed 2
Pizzas made 4
Jerk Stew 1
Freezer Soup made 1

Jerked Chicken Stew Recipe

2 # chicken breasts or tenders, chopped into large bites
Jerk Seasoning (one batch or one jar if premade)
2 T Jump Up and Kiss Me (or other) Habanero Hot sauce
1 Butternut Squash, diced large
1 small bag baby carrots
1 (chernobyl aka extra super large) onion, diced large
2 Red bell peppers, chopped
2 green bell peppers, chopped
6 + cups chicken stock
Shrimp (optional if you want to share with a non-chicken eating person)
1-2 mangos diced

Marinate chicken in Jerk Seasoning and Habanero hot sauce for several hours to days. Saute onion in a bit of oil until beginning to be translucent (you can even caramelize if Guy’s not eating it). Add Chicken and brown. Pour in Stock and bring to a boil for 15 + minutes. Add squash and carrots and cook ½ hour. Add bell peppers, shrimp if desired, and cook another 15 minutes. Stir in mango before serving. Serve with rice.

Food and Love

2008-11-22T17:56:00.000-08:00

My two favorite days of the year always happen within a week of each other. This is the week.

First is my Birthday. What makes it my favorite is that I get phone calls and emails from all the people who love me. I can think of nothing that makes me happier than talking to most, if not all, of the people I love so much in one day. What day could be better than that?!

Second is Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving is all about truly enjoying everything you have and really wallowing in how good your life is. Some people call that gratitude... I like the visual of wallowing in all that good feeling. Thanksgiving is all about good food and good friends. What a fabulous combo.

My Birthday was Thursday of this week. I was in Denver for a meeting. Guy came down for my Birthday and we went to dinner. We decided to try a restaurant some friends had tried to take him to for years. When we got there, we were lucky enough to get a table. Then the owner/hostess told us they'd only been open a week. The other restaurant outgrew the space and moved to a trendy location in LoDo (Lower Downtown). She had opened one of my other fave Denver spots (Table 6) for someone else and opened this one for herself.

The menu was cryptic. Had I read it on the window outdoors, I'd have moved on down the road. But when explained, the menu at Venue sounded FAB!

Guy ordered a dish that simply read:

Flat Iron
chanterelle mushrooms, pearl onions, celery root

It was a shoulder cut of beef called a "flat iron" seared medium rare (to the rare side) on a bed of green beans, tomatos, caramelized pearl onions, and chanterelle mushrooms on top of celery root puree. It was outstanding and v.savory.

I had the special, a salmon fillet on a leek reduction (leeks cooked down with broth) with frisee on top.

The appetizer was a large plate of mussels steamed in a wine sauce with caramelized fennel, french tarragon, and tomatoes with the liquid poured over crusty bread.

Dessert was creme brulee over preserved cherries... we considered it Michigan Creme Brulee.

Ahhhh!
Birthdays are to be savored.

Book Worm

2008-11-18T10:43:00.000-08:00

It's that time of the month again... that time when I get a little crabby and barely leave the sofa. No, not THAT time of the month, the reading time. Once a month I have a meeting that involves a lot of preparation. Volumes of reading... to the tune of 2000+ pages this month.

The first "packet" included a 600 page packet and a 1260 pg packet. Just as I was finishing the last couple hundred, another package arrived via UPS with another 360 pages. Ouch!

So, the Bean Cycle gets another night of me being parked on their sofa.

So last night, I noticed there was a new display of art work. It looked like a high school art class did a lot of india ink drawings. There were numerous distorted faces and a few animals. One pretty good cat was in the middle. The sofas were taken so I grabbed a worn out chair in the "pit" grouping in the middle of the place. I dug out my materials and then sat back an looked at the "art" work.

Just in front of me, in all its "glory" was the very hairy rear end of a man from the waist down and it was obvious that in front of him was a woman... you get the idea. I was shocked, to say the least. The next picture was a bunch of nudies around a cat in a cage. And a 3rd "colorful shower" so to speak. Suddenly I suspected it wasn't a high school art class. Weird.

I'm not sure if that put me in the right frame of mind for my reading but it was an amusing moment. I think I'll go to Everyday Joe's not-for-profit coffee bar tonight to read after my run. It's safer there. I'm skipping 2 for 1 burgers (veggie too) and $2 microbrew pints at the Trailhead to read this other packet. Sheesh! I'm dedicated.

Snippets and Fragments

2008-11-13T18:38:00.000-08:00

Declining Dollars

I just bought a used book for $3.20 that cost $1.50 in 1975. The original price is clearly marked on the cover. The clerk at The Matter Bookstore said "that must have been when the dollar was worth a lot more." He wasn't even born in 1975.

I've bought several copies of this book as gifts. All of them cost about $6 at major bookstores. This one is a gift for Bethany. It will be worth every penny.

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Chasing the chill with new friends

Nights grow long and deep
Cold rattles in the branches
not yet muffled by snow
balanced by the warmth of tiny white lights
Clouds bloom on the rooftop across the street
and the wind
chases the stubborn leaves from the branches
to gather at the door, begging to be let in
I would run away
but for this bag on my shoulder
hanging heavy with work
and projects collecting in the corners

I met a new friend on trail last night
tomorrow, she and I will pour over tea leaves
or perhaps just drink coffee
Her Eastern and my Western
meeting in this town
new for both of us
to collaborate for good and for fun

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The coming of winter feels like gaining weight
Layers of clothing, tight with warmth
Laziness and inertia gathering in piles around my feet

********** ********** **********

I miss my old friends.
Names scattered on the calendar to remind me to celebrate them
even those who are gone or going

I would sit in this cafe across from tall, beautiful Alice and lose this day in her laughter. She is at once calm and adventurous.

To hear Red's voice say "Heeeeey Baaaabeeee"

I wonder where Chris is. How big are Leah and Holly now?

I heard from Jeffy last night. I miss his appetite for life. To taste it all without gluttony.

Ms. Lisa's gentleness and creativity. A dose of her inspiration would do me good right now.

Making History

2008-11-12T08:18:00.000-08:00

One week ago all we heard on TV and the radio was how "History" was made by electing Barak Obama President of the United states. While I agree, it is noteworthy and a very good thing... don't we make history every day? I mean, EVERYTHING that IS becomes history. It's just that there are some things we deem worthy enough to write down as History.

I find it sad that it is so noteworthy that Barak Obama is African American. While we have crossed a barrier we are definitely no closer to being color blind. In fact, we are shining an even brighter light on the issue of race. For me, it is more intriguing that Mr. Obama is so close in age to me and therefore feel that we might have some similarities in what feels important for the present and future. Having a president who has a life expectancy of about 5 more years doesn't bode well for thinking in the long term.

Ironman Florida 2008

2008-11-04T18:57:00.001-08:00

“I could do this, all I have to do is learn to swim!” That’s what I said at Ironman KY, 2007 and I had to put my money where my mouth is.

Wednesday October 29^th: Bags packed, we headed for the airport. At 48 lbs, it felt like my giant yellow Cabelas duffel was filled with iron. Instead, it was filled with bike pedals, bento boxes, saddles, spare tubes, and birthday presents. Our carry-on bags seemed equally heavy, stuffed full of clothing and wet suits. Loaded with gear and potential we boarded a plane to Atlanta; ultimately Florida bound.

The drive through Georgia and Alabama into the Florida panhandle involved miles of pine trees and kudzu; a stop to explore a field of cotton and swab Guy’s ears; and vigorous conversation about the merits of stopping by the Dothon National Peanut Festival for boiled, fried, Cajun, spiced, and roasted peanuts on the way back. I’m not sure whether Guy wanted to try the peanuts or watch me swell up like a tick. There was little change to identify the crossing of state lines but we knew we were well into Florida when we started seeing signs for the upcoming bike race along highway 231 on our way into Panama City.

We buzzed directly to Panama City Beach and the Boardwalk Beach Resort to register for Ironman Florida 2008 and pick up our packets. The area was abuzz with race setup, retail at its finest, and registration. We signed in, filled out our emergency information, and lined up to be weighed and receive our packets. When it was my turn, I tipped the scales at a svelte 175 lbs… until Guy took his toe off the back of the scale. I was given a wrist band, pink swim cap with my number on it, a packet with my numbers and instructions, and a T-shirt. The numerous volunteers all wished me luck, I was going to need all the luck I could get.

After a quick swim out two bouys on the course and back, we headed to Kurt and Amy’s house about 45 minutes across town at Tyndall AFB. Amy met us at the gate to sign us up for a pass and we headed to their house. While Florida is certainly not Colorado, it did resemble a paradise of sorts, backing up onto a beach with the Shell Islands on the horizon and the sun sinking low, hinting at the sunset to come.

The day before the race was Halloween. We spent most of the day preparing Kurt and Amy’s bikes to fit us the best possible (slightly larger than our bikes but oh-so-much lighter). Kurt guaranteed “2-flat Guy” that he would have no flats and he delivered on that promise which means new tires in Guy’s future. We packed gear bags for the swim-to-bike transition, the bike-to-run, and two special needs bags for mid-ride and mid-run. Dashing out at the last minute we arrived minutes before our bikes had to be racked and dropped off our gear. More than a little stressed from the tight timeline, I was in quick agreement for a cold beer and a snack before our swim. Kurt waited patiently while we suited up and swam out around a couple bouys again. Then we dashed back nearly as fast to pass out candy and see the boys in costume as pirates. It was essential to finish my pedicure with a coat of bright orange nail polish which Berg, Amy, and Wendy assured me would be the most buoyant and fastest color.

That night we headed back to Panama City Beach to stay at the home of Kurt’s friends. Keith and Natalia live about 10 minutes from the beach and have just build a large garage with a beautiful Mother-in-law apartment above it. After a brief introduction we settled in to make last minute sandwiches and eat ice cream before bed. The accommodations were primo and even came with doggie kisses before bed.

We parked a short distance from the race site and walked over with our last minute bags. We put on our wet suits and stood around the beach for the National Anthem and then the pro’s start. Soon we moved toward the water in a crowd of wetsuits topped with pink and blue swim caps. Everyone looked nearly the same but I’m absolutely sure I kissed the right Guy for good luck! I waited for the crowd to hit the water and start swimming. Then I started. My breathing was way off. I stopped. I started again, still off. When I came up again, there was Guy bobbing close by to encourage me. He told me he was staying with me and I’d be fine. I swam some more, still struggling but much better. I stopped one more time and he reminded me to go slowly so I slowed down. From there, I stopped only to sight when I was having trouble seeing the bouys. It took 2/3 of the first loop to get really comfy and relaxed. At the end of the first loop, Guy gave me a big kiss in front of the crowd and then we parted ways to do our own races. He blasted through the next loop feeling great. And I swam the next loop about 20 minutes faster than the first one, even passing many swimmers. I spotted two jellies floating below me near the end of the swim. I came out of the water jazzed and ran up to the “strippers” who pulled my wetsuit off before I ran through the showers.

As I came through the walkway of the hotel, I called out my number and at the other end my transition bag was waiting in the hands of a volunteer. I grabbed it with thanks and ran into the changing tent. There another volunteer took my bag and dumped it. She asked me about each item and helped me change clothes (even putting one sock on for me) and gather my wits and my gear. As I ran out eating a sandwich, two young girls with rubber gloves slathered my arms, legs, and face with more sunscreen. A volunteer called out my number and by the time I got to the rack with my bike it was standing at the ready with another volunteer. Are you getting the idea about how fabulous the volunteers are?

I crossed the mat and was off on the bike elated that I already had my victory regardless of what came next. The first 20 miles fell quickly and I was hopeful. At mile 50, I grabbed one of my sandwiches and still felt great despite the mild but gradual uphill and the headwind. By mile 60, the wheels were coming off… not off the bike, my wheels. My shorts were bunching up and chafing my legs. The seat was becoming painful and my right Achilles was screaming. I slowed down considerably after that. An out and back with particularly bumpy cracks was a very painful experience that took whatever wind was left in my sails. I was convinced I wouldn’t make the 4 o’clock cutoff at 90 miles and even if I did, I surely wouldn’t make the last 22 miles in 1.5 hours after that. In fact, I almost hoped I wouldn’t make it. But make it, I did, by 15 minutes. And then someone went by and said, “we can make it, only 13 miles to go.” I picked up the pace, I’m not sure how. I started pedaling faster and inching up the gearing. I started singing Mark Cohn’s “Dig Down Deep” to myself in my head. I knew it was going to be close. I wasn’t sure I had enough left and then, how would I run. Remembering from ultras that it is best not to do math and not to think too much, I just kept pedaling trying to convince myself that I was a perpetual motion machine. I rolled into the transition to cheers of “you’ve made it!” I crossed the mat 15 minutes under the cutoff.

A quick change and ½ sandwich and I was out on the run in 5 minutes. Completing a section and the crowd gets you jazzed. I took off alternating running and walking. I was stiff but amazed how good I felt. I watched for Kurt and Amy and the Kids but didn’t see them. Then I started watching for Guy, finding him at about mile 3 on his way back in. I was pretty sure he might be finishing but would be amazed to see him headed out again on my way back. Some of the miles seemed long, some seemed short, but all of them were uncomfortable at best. Both Achilles were now hurting and so was nearly everything else. Training might have made that less but what is, is and I probably deserved some pain for not having done it.

The turnaround point at the State Park finally came into view and I crossed the mat. It was dark by then and the flood lights were sparse. A flashlight might have been helpful but this road was pretty good and it wasn’t essential. I ran back about ½ way and again, my lack of endurance caught up with me. I walked more and ran less back to the start/finish chute and the turn-around. I could barely run on the second lap so I channeled my friend Jay Norman and walked as fast as I possibly could. I was sure they said at the pre-race meeting that the cutoff at the turnaround was 10 p.m. and I just knew I wouldn’t make it. I might get pulled for time but I wasn’t going to quit! Another runner passed me doing the shuffle. He was a first timer and, he said, a last timer. He had no idea how painful something could be. It was painful, but nothing that the weight of a finisher’s medal couldn’t cure.

At 10:20, I made the turn about ¼- ½ mile behind him and they let me go through. As I made my way back with my chicken walk (trying to keep my Achilles from tearing in half) they were taking down the aid stations and some were gone completely. Grazing herds of deer had replaced the volunteers and several caught me by surprise. I caught up to the same guy at about mile 23 and he asked if we could finish. I told him I wasn’t quitting and that I would finish either before or after midnight but that I was going for it. He seemed resigned to try if I was going to. It seemed bleak for both of us.

About another mile down the road, a white car rolled up beside me and the window rolled down… it was my Prandsome Hince with a white-but-not-quite-steed. He was thrilled to see me still moving and I was thrilled at his support. He told me I had 25 minutes to go the last 2.2 miles and that I could make it but I would have to run. Once again, I began digging deep. I told him I’d like him to be there at the finish line and he took off (knowing he’d have to drive fast to beat me ;-) The first few steps felt like flames up the backs of my legs, I couldn’t. I walked again. I tried again and again until I could run 10 feet and then 50. I was alternating my fast walk and a run. The last mile I was able to run most of it with only a few short bits of walking as I’d find myself slowing down. I was hearing the announcer in the distance and finally, the chute. I summoned up everything else I had left and ran into the chute finishing at 16:51:41 to receive my medal and my congratulatory kiss from Guy. Unbelievable, I had pulled it off!

I had pulled it off with an incredible amount of luck (but then, I’d rather be lucky than good any day!) and with the well wishes of a lot of folks. I channeled a lot of great people during the race and had lots of time in my head to think about them. There were all the police on every corner and all the incredible volunteers I thanked along the course and those who were behind the scenes I didn’t even know about. All of them made my race possible. My swim coach Wendy did wonders for my stroke and my confidence, helping make the swim my best leg. Core PT who patched up my ankle at the last minute after I pulled my Slinky act down the basement stairs. Kurt and Amy gave us a wonderful place to stay, great food, and kisses from Berg and Kai to inspire us. And Guy gave me incredible support through all of my learning to swim, my anxiety, and my race.

The winners had finished eons before me but I still had my victory. Now it was time to celebrate! First with a heavenly hot shower. Do you know how good it feels to wash off hours of sweat and pain and Gatorade and sea salt? And then the feel of clean sheets and a soft mattress? Sleep was wonderful but broken by many awakenings as I moved my sore limbs. Soreness was not to dampen my spirits for relaxation time and Berg’s 4^th birthday. I haven’t said much about Kurt, Amy, Berg, or Kai because this is mostly the story of the race… I’ll save that for the next story on my blog. But, it was his birthday celebrated with a piñata surfside and caramel apples (made with Amy-made fresh cream caramel), pumpkin lasagna (made more for me than Berg) and a luscious yellow cake with raspberry filling and chocolate ganache. There is no better refuel for body or spirit than the delight of a 4 year old at his birthday and amazing eats from my favorite chef, a quick snorkeling excursion before sunset and a relaxing evening with fabulous friends. Snuggles from the boys and wags from the dogs were icing on the cake.

It was time to head home. A longish car ride to Macon gave us plenty of opportunity to tighten up and remember the race. But lunch with cousin Anne and uncle Bill was a lovely end to the vacation. Now it feels more like a vacation than the work of race day. And now… it’s time to train for Lake Placid.

On the Ironman while visiting Amy

2008-10-29T07:05:00.000-07:00

When biting off more than you can chew, it helps to have a fantastic cook around!

Golf of Mexico

2008-10-28T17:52:00.001-07:00

October is drawing to a close. In a few short days, it’ll be Halloween. Halloween used to be my favorite holiday and I still love it, though it’s been replaced in the Favorite category by Thanksgiving.

This year, I will be spending Halloween at the home of my friends Kurt and Amy and their fabulous boys, Berg and Kai. I’ve adopted Berg and Kai as my nephews since my brother had both girls and I wouldn’t get a chance to be an uncle without boyz. Besides that they are super cool kids.

The boyz are dressing as pirates for Halloween. I’m particularly glad of their choice of costumes. Because they are going to be pirates, I know they will be out on their pirate ship the next day and will protect me in my swim in the Gulf of Mexico. I know Pirates aren’t known for protecting people but I would bet that even a pirate will protect someone he loves… and besides, I have no treasure to pillage except the love I have for these boys and they can have all of that they can handle.

The day after Halloween, I will work off the Halloween candy I won’t be eating by swimming with 2200 of my very best new friends in the Gulf. You see, I misread the travel brochures… and thinking it was the Golf of Mexico, I thought it was a lot like swimming in those poo poo balls at McDonalds or Chucky Cheese. But alas, it is real water and salty to boot.

With me on this swim will be a little boy who is very, very sick. I have laminated his photo and will carry it close to my heart. My struggle is nothing compared to his and I will give him whatever strength it brings me to complete this swim-bike-run. If you have a little extra strength of your own, please use it to hold out the best and highest good for a certain sweet little boy and his family.

When I finish the swim, my pirate friends will be cheering me on while I ride the bike… their Mommy’s bike, actually. And after that, the run… or walk… or crawl, whatever it is by then.

And then there is the day after this event… the day after the culmination of a year’s worth of learning to swim (and doing little else in the way of workouts)… it will be Berg’s birthday. And oh, what a celebration that should be. In a way, it’s my birthday too… because this race is all about my birthday and meeting a new challenge as I start my 45th year.

Vacation… much needed and much fun. It doesn’t get much better than that.

Small Victories

2008-10-28T17:51:00.000-07:00

Last weekend was a weekend off. I went to Amarillo for a race and Guy partied and worked.
This week Mick, the floor guy, came and worked on the bedroom floor.

The bedroom floor had started out with harvest gold shag carpet, saturated with decades of dog hair, foot traffic, and grime. Guy dragged it out the front door within a week of us moving in.

Beneath the carpet and the deep layer of dirt, he found linoleum. And beneath that, tar paper. Buried deep was a hardwood floor. We covered it with cardboard so we wouldn’t track tar all over the finished floors in the rest of the house.

After a couple weeks, Guy found Mick. He ground off the layer of crud on the floors, revealing the nice wood in the picture to the left.

The floors aren’t quite done yet but the first layer of finish is on them. The holes in the wall from old plumbing (top left) are plastered over. The blue trim is now bright satin white.

Yesterday the walls and ceiling got primed. And today we painted the ceiling with that ceiling paint that goes on pink and dries white. We took a photo of ME working so you’ll know that I’ve done a little more than photograph during this project.

After we return from Florida, the floors should be done. The walls will become bright yellow and we’ll move the bedroom furniture in. We’ll also populate the ceiling with glow-in-the-dark stars like I had in my old house.

Smaller steps are a little easier. We had time this weekend for a party on Saturday night and a rally to see Barack Obama this afternoon. That and packing for Florida pretty much filled the weekend. Did I tell you I love paint… instant gratification!

Lisa and Guy

The View From the Other Side

2008-10-20T21:21:00.000-07:00

Palo Duro 50 as a volunteer

I’ve volunteered before and I’ve paced many times but never at PD 50. Every year I’ve made it, I’ve run the 50 K or 50 Mile and I’ve never been disappointed. This year, as a volunteer, I again was rewarded for attending.

I’ve bragged about this race since I first ran it, from the race director to the aid station food and everywhere in between. The trails are spectacular and the volunteers even more exceptional than at many other ultras (believe me, that’s a high bar!). I’m not sure I’m allowed to brag about the volunteers in general this year since I was one but I’ll share a few specifics. I would say it’s a “colorful” race… from the founders to the volunteers to the canyon itself… color, everywhere.

The night before the race, I sat at a picnic table between the canopies we had set up. I looked at the race banner in the moonlight. Rows of flags waited to be unfurled. It was quiet except the distant laughter of racers hovering over campfires making final preparations and the coyote yipping in the distance. The Milky Way stretched from north to south across the canyon and the Big Dipper was poised over the north rim to enjoy a scoop of the magic of the Canyon.

As always, the race started with a prerace check-in before dark. Bagpipes echoed of the cliffs of the canyon. I love bagpipes but this year they made me cry for the first of many times that day. Check-in is too fast and furious to think about anything else so we got people in order and they gathered under the start banner and the American and Texas flags. Runners lined up between a 100 yard path of flags, Texas on the north and flags for other states and countries represented by runners on the south.

The 50 mile and 50 K runners took off as we finished with the 20K runners. In a short half hour they would be off into the darkness too, seeking glow sticks and bogeymen in the trees. As it does every day, the sun rose and lit the canyon walls. I don’t get to see it every day and it always takes my breath away. I’ve been there in all seasons for trail work weekends and visiting… it always amazes me.

And so the volunteers wait. The 20K finish line was set out. The cooking crew was in full swing. Timer set up, computers and backups, were finalized. The aid station was arranged. And we waited. 50K runners started coming through on their first lap, then 50 milers. Once the 20K runners started coming in, we got very busy getting everyone tabulated. It’s not like those road races where you have a chute to stack the runners into… no pull off tabs… Here we call out numbers and enter them in the computer, we pass out finisher’s hats (not enough because so many people registered so late), we answer questions, and we guide people into the appropriate place so the 20K people don’t get run over by 50K and 50 Mile runners blazing through for another go ‘round.

My favorite thing about volunteering is getting to meet everyone. Hearing stories about streakers through the Little Fox aid station where Dos Locos Senoritas were in rare form, as usual. I wished I were out on that trail nearly as much as I enjoyed what I was doing.

This year, the race was put on by Bill and Wynn Ross and a lot of volunteers from the Amarillo area running and mountain bike groups. Bill and Wynn have been co-race directors for many years but this year, they got the whole tamale. It has been a tradition that the race gets a little bigger and a little better every year. It’s pretty spectacular so that’s not a small task to do. They more than succeeded. Their love of the race and the canyon comes through in how they handle the race and the volunteers. As much as colorfulness, this race exudes class.

Every year when I have run this race, I have attributed my luck to making a point to kiss the race director, Red Spicer, and anyone in his family that might be present (usually his daughter Revelle and some years ago, his son Phil) on every loop. Red was not there to direct the race this year. Nor did he get to receive kisses. But Red was very present on the whole course all day. Dos Locos Senoritas hung a triangle at their aid station and invited people to ring it for Red to hear. They gave out bells for people to ring as they crossed the finish line. Revelle was present and I did manage to give her one kiss when she came into the start finish for a couple burgers and more supplies.

Once the 20K was done, I helped time the 50 Mile and 50K. I cheered friends and visited with friends. I sent people on necessary errands and tended to whatever I could do. But I was still itching to get out on the trail. I knew one special friend was soon to come in on the 50K so I finally broke free to run out and find him. It was good to be on the trails that are so much like an old friend. The fall color was in full glory on Juniper Creekside and Sunflower. If I was lucky, I’d get to Red’s Rock before I found him… but he was too fast. I got to run in with my dear friend Jay as he finished this race for the 22nd or 23rd time in the 24 years it has been put on.

Did I tell you about the food? After a long day in the sun timing and a little run, a burger sure is a good thing. The cooking crew was working so hard and I knew they had something terrific. Somewhere in the stacks of the smoker there is always a veggie burger hiding for me and anyone else who asks. There are fresh grilled jalepenos and hatch green chiles if you are so inclined. The usual burger fixin’s are also available for more traditional types. One burger would leave just enough room for the volunteer dinner I knew they were working on. Primo, Bassman, and their faithful crew (too many to name them all) also deliver on bigger and better every year. .. cherry AND peach cobbler… It pays to volunteer.

At 6:30 as the last racer came in under the wire, the sun was setting on Palo Duro Canyon; every bit as beautiful as the sun rise. The runners packed up and went home or to their campsites and hot showers. But there is more to be done when the race is run.

100 yards of flags need to be rolled and packaged for next year. The finish banner needs to come down off its frame and all the electrical equipment for lighting and timing have to be packed up. That shower has to be unhooked and put in the trailer. Signs along the course, aid station tables, and every last scrap of trash has to be cleaned up. The course markings can be left for the mountain bike volunteers to pick up tomorrow along the trail where they offered assistance or encouragement to injured, dehydrated, and tired runners all day. Finally at 8:30 dinner and rest. I get to go home in the morning but the race directors and a few other local volunteers will have to clean out the rental truck of all the supplies. They will have to be cleaned and stored for next year. The end is a beginning in and of itself…preparation for the 25th running of the Palo Duro Canyon races.

Many thanks to Wynn and Bill for taking over the direction of this race under such sad circumstances and doing such a fabulous job. To Revelle for being a gracious hostess and aid station captain with her amazingly busy schedule and all she’s had to handle in the months leading up to the race. To the cooking crew who really know how to satisfy a racer’s appetite. And all the other volunteers who make this race special.

For starting all of this and leaving this legacy, thanks to Red Spicer and Bob Givens… and the others who got it going with them. Your love of the trails is given back 1000 fold to the runners whose simultaneous struggle and happiness echoes off the canyon walls.

Lisa B

2008-10-12T19:17:00.001-07:00

A lack of time, a rainy weekend, a parade, a concert, a huge packet to read, and a lot of work on Guy’s plate… not to mention a nasty cold… and not a lot got accomplished this weekend. Well, actually, a lot got accomplished but mostly smaller things… still important things.

First was the homecoming parade for CSU. The Engines and Energy Conversion Lab built a “float” using the Hydraulic Hybrid as a rolling bandstand. While the band rocked, the hybrid rolled through the judging stations on hydraulic power. It was a success for Czero and a load of fun for the students and faculty involved.

After the parade, the students and faculty came by the house for a pizza party. To the neighbor’s relief, the band didn’t play and a block party didn’t materialize. Better for all involved, I’m sure.

The next up on the list was sanding the plaster repairs in the bedroom and painting everything before the flooring guy comes Monday. But, my cold was not going to tolerate breathing plaster dust and the weather decided not to cooperate either. Saturday was cold and rainy with a high in the 50s. The forecast at mid-day was for rain to turn to snow in the Front Range with up to an inch of accumulation.

Needless to say, that necessitated a change of plans. The outdoor plants had to come in. Some of them needed some serious rehab and replanting so I got to it and made a makeshift plant shelf in a west-facing window to afford the ailing aloe some warm sun. Meanwhile, Guy got busy working on a cold frame for the herbs. It seems that he’s been promised a turkey for Thanksgiving and probably something yummy around Christmas (after our travels) and is excited about the idea of some fresh herbs.

The garden beside the house is almost all clay (plus the two huge bags of coffee grounds I mixed in). So Guy dug up herbs and began prepping the area. The drizzle kept him wet and cold most of the day, a perfect combination with me exposing him to my cold. I hope he doesn’t get it this week while he is traveling!

By the end of the weekend, Guy had the cold frame 95% done and functional. As is usual for Guy’s projects, it will be standing much longer than the house! I mixed in some good soil and replanted the herbs.

While Guy worked, I felt badly that he was out in the drizzle, though he barely noticed. So I made him a nice steamy pot of chili with about ¾ lb diced roasted green chiles and some terrific New Mexico red chile powder. Enough pepper and vitamin C to ward off any cold! That kept him going for the afternoon and staved off enough hunger to get us to the evening’s activities.

We went to Avogadro’s Number, a local mediocre veggie restaurant and terrific music venue. Peter Mayer, a fave folk musician from Minnesota, was playing. As usual, his concert was top notch. Something about seeing a favorite musician in a small venue with about 100 people is great. Check him out at www.petermayer.net

When the chores moved inside, Guy managed to create a ski rack for all our gear. We are beginning to look organized! And ready for winter…. Which, it seems, is coming fast!

Oh, and I finally took a photo of the clothes line Guy put up for us. It’s a bit too rainy now to use it… but once snow flies, it’ll be dry outside again and we’ll be able to use it.

So all in all, this weekend was a nice mixture. Some fun, some work, and some resting.

Next weekend will be a bit of a break as I’ll be at the Palo Duro Canyon 50M/50K/20K working an aid station with Red’s daughter Revelle. I’m sure we’ll be sharing some wonderful memories and probably more than a few tears. I look forward to seeing my Texas friends and getting in a short run on some of my favorite trails ever. I know Red will be with me every step of the way.

We’ll get in one more short weekend of work before heading for Florida on the 29th. Keep sending good ju ju. The house has prevented 99% of the training I needed… the other 1% is pure laziness. ;-)

Running Shoes

2008-10-12T18:17:00.000-07:00

Running shoes

lined up by the back door,

orderly children

waiting for the recess bell to ring.

Dust gathers,

Layer by layer

old insulation

bits of wire

drywall dust

One pair,

held in hopeful isolation

at the bottom

of the gym bag,

is passed over again and again

for lycra and goggles

save the rare morning run.

I am woefully unprepared,

except for the swim.

As if I could train

to run and ride

by carrying boxes

and wielding a paintbrush.

But I will toe the line,

wishing for a handful of miracles

and the forgiveness of my shoes.

Perhaps an Iron will is enough.

LB 10/09/08
__._,_.___

Going with the Flow

2008-09-29T19:56:00.000-07:00

After my session with my swim coach Wendy, I decided to buy a new wetsuit. She thought maybe my old one was too small. So, I was on my way to the Springs and Helen suggested I try Criterium Bike Shop where they were selling the last year's rental suits at clearance prices. For $150, I got a new wetsuit, a size larger, in perfect condition.

Saturday, Guy and I went to the lake. We suited up. I could breathe. We bobbed into the water to get used to the cold. After a few minutes, I was able to swim freestyle almost all the way to the bouy (well, actually, I think it's an inflatable swim platform). Then I swam back. Then I did it all over again.

I'd like to think it's about a half mile to that bouy. But I know in reality, it's probably more like 200 meters. And maybe that's not such a long swim but to do it without anxiety in the lake is HUGE.

So today I decided to back up that experience with a "distance" workout. I got to the pool at 5:50 and by 6:35 was finishing up my first 2000 yards. After about 3 minutes rest, I did another 1000 in about 23 minutes.

I felt myself gliding through the water. I felt the Power of the catch. I got out satisfied with my workout and hungry.

Alexis informs me I can no longer use the phrase "I can't swim."

You Are What You Eat

2008-09-23T21:23:00.000-07:00

Fish.
Halibut, tuna, coho salmon, silverbrite, king salmon, tilapia, grouper, red snapper, orange roughy, and cod.
Fish.
But no, I still cannot swim with grace. Well, maybe I can a little. But in the water, I feel like a fish out of water... gasping for breath and flopping around, eyes bugging out, and a look of panic on my face.
I don't eat chicken... so why am I a chicken in the water?
Fish.
You are what you eat.
yeah right.
Well, maybe there's a little truth, I do eat a lot of shrimp.

It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood

2008-09-21T19:07:00.000-07:00

I finally know what Mr. Rogers was singing about. After decades of subdivisions, housing developments, and the concept of gated communities, I am finally living in a neighborhood.

Within 2 weeks of moving in, I met 20 of my closest neighbors (half of them pint-sized) and dozens of people who regularly walk down this street. This is called "Old Town" and the way of living here goes back a long way.

There are about a dozen kids. Everyone seems to subscribe to the "it takes a community" approach to child rearing. On an almost daily basis, cones are put at each end of the street and a lawn chair is set up somewhere in the middle of the street. One parent or another sits like a lifeguard as all the kids race up and down on razors, bicycles, or playing games. When they need some rest, they dangle from the trees across the street where there are several swings. Every yard is a play space whether any of the kids actually lives in the house or not. And every adult (parent or not) is fair game for watching, helping, patching up bruised pride, or being safety monitor.

Within a month we'd been invited to a neighbor's house for dinner. Inside 6 weeks the neighbors were loaning Guy a tiara to wear with his tutu (oh, wait, that's another story). And already at 2 months we are hosting a happy hour to celebrate our house and neighborhood.

Would you be my, wontcha be my...neighbor.

Old Dogs and New Tricks

2008-09-14T20:37:00.001-07:00

I started running at the age of 14 when I joined the track team. A year hasn’t gone by since then that I haven’t run, at least a little. I’ve gone from 5 and 10Ks in my 20s to Marathons in my late 20s to Ultras beginning at 30.

And now, for something completely different…

Every time I’ve had an injury which sidelined me from running, I wished I could swim to replace the workouts. I biked but too many close encounters with unfriendly drivers on the road and mesquite trees on the trail and the fact that most of my injuries weren’t amenable to riding as a replacement quashed that as an alternate. So, several times I took swimming lessons but was barely breaking the surface when my injury healed and I was on the road again.

About 2 years ago, after a particularly good running year, I once again found myself coming up lame. Not being a horse, there was no chance they were going to shoot me to put me out of my misery. But, digging around to find the cause of multiple nagging injuries spelled a longer course of recovery than I could reasonably spend eating bon bons and watching soap operas (which is anything more than 5 minutes).

After months of “getting by” in the gym and PT, I was more than a bit frustrated but handling it amazingly well for me. Then I went to watch my boyfriend do an Ironman. [scary music here]. I found myself saying, “I could do this, all I have to do is learn to swim” [louder scary music].

As a kid I had plenty of swimming lessons but I never really got good at it. I could do the breast stroke until I was worn out but freestyle (the front crawl, it was called then) eluded me. In high school, I was asked to join the swim team but, disliking the coach, I went for track instead. What little I had for swimming was washed away.

And so it went that 10 months ago I started going to the pool with a friend and I took the plunge and signed up for an Ironman for my next birthday. I knew I had some significant challenges but as water goes… I was only seeing the tip of the iceberg. I had no trouble putting my face in the water but breathing was another issue. Total Immersion videos, a session with a coach, a lot of time in the pool with friends. It took months to be able to swim 50 meters without stopping and then I could do it only if I stood and gasped at the side for a few minutes afterward.

Why couldn’t this old dog be a labrador retreiver? Why did I have to be more like a cat than a dog when it comes to water? Was this why both of my last two dogs were terrified of the water? I kept trying. Slowly I was transitioning from a sinker to a bobber but forward motion is so much easier on land… and so is breathing. The temptation to go back to running was so strong.

Running is easy. Not in terms of physical exertion but in terms of what it asks of me; a pair of shoes; clothing appropriate to the weather; and a road, path, or trail. Even on those days when the motivation is low, it only takes a pair of shoes calling from the corner to get things started.

Swimming is not like that. Swimming requires laying myself bare to my anxieties and plunging myself into cold, unforgiving water. And then there are those wetsuit swims, the only way to swim outside in Colorado save those warmest of days in August. Just the idea of packing my body into a thick sausage casing which further restricts my breathing is cause for dread. None of it is absolute fear, just anxiety and dread, just conditions that get my inner voices chanting and calling out my weaknesses. I try to learn techniques to quiet the voices but there is nothing in the water to distract me. I’ve never been prone to anxiety but this, this took me over that edge.

Along about the end of May or early June, I finally managed to swim 100 meters at one go. It was a triumphant moment. It came none-too-soon as I had my first sprint tri coming up in a few short weeks. I pledged to increase my swims by 100 meters each day. The next was 250, then 500, then 1000. I knew I could get through the sprint.

But the day came for the sprint and when I started swimming, I swam 25 meters and couldn’t breathe again. I couldn’t seem to slow myself with people running over me and, in rushing, I grew anxious with each gasping breath. I swam the breast stroke with a little freestyle thrown in. I got through the swim and had a great time on the bike and run. The next week, I hired a coach.

The coach worked to repair my stroke. I was so lopsided; limping along in the water like a wounded seal. Within an hour, my stroke was much more even and I was propelling myself forward much better. I worked harder. I was convinced that this would get me where I needed to be. And I was liking it more; looking forward to my time in the pool.

My next tri was a relay. I would do 3 swims of about 400 meters. My first swim with months more experience under my belt, I panicked and swam breast stroke for 400 meters. Someone was zig zagging right in front of me and I just knew I’d run into her or get belted in the head by a stray hand or foot. Lap 2 was better with a fair bit of freestyle before I got short of breath and had to switch. And lap 3 was more than ¼ freestyle with alternating back and forth with breast stroke. Ten more laps and I just might figure it out. My ribs hurt but I got through it. I had more work to do.

I’ve had a lot of great swims since that tri. But today, I tried to psych myself up to go to the lake. The idea of putting on a wetsuit on a cool fallish day and jumping in that orange roped swim area felt like punishment. Why? Why can’t I have the excitement of the kids racing up and down my block on Razors when it comes to swimming? I want that kind of excitement about getting in the water. But no, it was punishment and not just any punishment but the terrible kind like when your Mom made you pick your own punishment. I was relieved to learn that the swimming area is closed for the season. Relieved and frustrated. Frustrated at the park for closing it when I have less than 2 months to train. Frustrated at myself for not taking advantage of it all summer and frustrated for being relieved that I couldn’t get in the lake today.

So, I went to the pool, much relieved. I swam. It was a good swim. Instead of beating myself up about my swimming ability, I beat myself up for being a weenie. Next week I’m going to reprogram my brain about swimming. I have an NLP session set up to address it. And I’m going to see if I can get some of that excitement back… so I can not only swim but be excited about running again instead of using it as rare “treat” that serves as a reward only if I swim.

This old dog is going to learn this new trick. It may be the hardest lesson I’ve ever learned but I’m going to get there!

And Life goes On

2008-09-11T20:57:00.001-07:00

Autumn did not saunter in

with her coat of many colors.

She did not dip her toe in

to test the temperature.

She stole a cloak from Winter

and jumped in with both bony feet,

settling greyness on top of the trees

and the grass

and the still vibrant bursts of zinnia.

Last night she tinged green tips with yellow

and yesterday, I saw the one tree

she is using to select this season’s shade of red.

Still the sunflower and cosmos tower

against the grey

as brilliant beacons

to call Indian Summer home.

Defiant colors

broadcast their protest to the dull sky

in green, red, orange, and purple.

Windows turn their light toward the garden

instead of warming the floor.

Autumn is making herself at home,

reluctantly invited

even into the kitchen,

she is stocking the pantry with the flavors of fall

and the stove with pots of warmth and comfort.

When Autumn touches the skin,

she is at once damp cold and fleecy warmth.

She inspires sleep and hunger and deep breaths

and lulls you into accepting her.

She plans to stay

until Winter discovers her closet is empty

and comes in a flurry

to find her cloak.

Then Autumn will gather up the last of Summer’s color

and run away as quickly as she came

chasing his heat to the south.

LB 9/11/08

2008-08-11T14:33:00.000-07:00

If I had to identify one of the most amazing things about my life, it would have to be the friends I've collected. I know, most people have good friends, but I consider myself especially blessed. I think I have more than my share of stellar people.

Today I am thinking a lot about a special friend who has blessed my life for only a handful of years. But in my world, he's big... he's Big Red.

Big Red Spicer is one of those larger than life characters. I've always described him as the "consummate southern gentleman." He's kind, sweet, handsome, and just a bit pig headed. When you have to fight the battles Big Red is fighting, being pig headed definitely helps you get by.

I first met Big Red when my friend Antje talked me into going to the Palo Duro Canyon 50 Mile and 50 K race. Red is the race director. The race is run in Palo Duro Canyon where virtually every trail is named after Red in some way.

Red welcomed me into his home on the weekend of the race. He woke me at 4:00 a.m. on his way to the race with a kiss. I hadn't even actually met him yet. But over the years I have grown to know that that loving nature is who Red is.

Red and I became fast friends. I have gone to the race every year since. I have also made countless visits to spend time with him and have taken several road trips with him as well.

Today Red is not well. He is trying very hard to recover from a nasty illness in an Amarillo hospital. For all the love I have for him, there is not much I can do save sending loving thoughts and prayers.

I love you Red. Heal quickly!

120 N SS Minnow

2008-08-11T14:15:00.000-07:00

You thought those old guys on the SS Minnow bit off more than they could chew with their three hour tour…

We could use some of their ingenuiity on our adventure, although I think Guy may have most of that covered. If you are going to buy a project house, it is a good thing to do it with an Enginerd, though one with smaller feet might not be a bad idea.

120 N. Roosevelt hit the market on June 12th after its owner, Robert, worked a few college students nearly to death doing painting, cleaning, and other projects. Robert, it seems, was a bit of a eccentric recluse who taught at the Vet school at CSU. He did a lot of things to “upgrade” and remodel the house but definitely knew enough to be dangerous and not quite enough to do things quite to code. The students seemed to know a bit about paint but not much about cleaning.

We knew what we were buying but that doesn’t stop visions of that old movie, The Money Pit, from flitting through our dreams. Half of our stuff went into storage so we wouldn’t overload the garage we want to reroof and expand right off. The other half moved into the house with its nice wood floors, meticulous trim work, and a few other things that need a little work. All was well.

Guy started off on the pantry so I could unpack the food and keep us well fed. Two weeks into it, the pantry is still at the top of the list as other things have bounced on and off that list. Priorities change a bit as things show themselves to be what they are. We are nearly done sanding the shelves and the painting begins tomorrow.

Somehow, in the midst of doing the pantry we realized that we needed some place to do the laundry that was getting so dirty from all the construction work. So, Guy proceeded to demo the paneling around the furnace and water heater. He removed the basement stove and dishwasher and parked them in the driveway until someone who could use them would take them away. A “free” sign works wonders but a $10 sign is apparently better for making things disappear without a trace.

The counter got cut and the washer installed. Since neither of us is big on using the dryer, the clothsline was repaired instead of rewiring the dryer. The laundry fest began. Unfortunately, the drain wasn’t in the best condition, necessitating an urgent consult from a plumber. It seems, Fort Collins is home to a plumbing outfit who does everything on a “flat fee” basis. Mind you, it’s a rather inflated “flat” fee. They came out and looked… decided to snake the line, and promptly quoted a “flat fee” of about $450. Yikes! Guy called another plumber and got it snaked for about $100.

There is a bit more to be done but with the pending renovations, the basement will get a complete makeover.

On about our third day in the house, Guy was showering and picked up his foot to wash off the construction dust. He rested it on the soap dish in the shower. But the soap dish would have no part of his big feet and proceeded to throw itself violently off the wall, taking several tiles with it. Or, to be more exact, about 2 rows of tile nearly the length of the tub. Soap dish suicide is an ugly thing. Guy thought maybe we could put plastic up so we could keep using the shower. As he explained his theory, he leaned against another wall of the shower. The tiles quickly threw themselves into the tub as well. And so the demolition followed.

Fortunately, the house has two bathrooms. We knew the upstairs bath had a lot of water damage. The downstairs was old but in pretty good shape. Until Guy decided to wash his toesies again, that is.

We decided to remove the shower doors, since I don’t like them. But along with the shower doors went the tiles… deja voodoo. Fortunately, I spent many years in Texas and am handy with the universal tool. Soon, the shower was in working order again!

And meanwhile, the pantry work continues. But wait, there’s more.

Upstairs, we are using the old dining room (now part of the living room) as a bedroom while we wait to fix the bedroom floor. Said floor was covered with original 1970s harvest gold shag carpet… DO NOT try to imagine what kind of critters might be living in THAT! Guy valiantly ripped out the carpet to find… linoleum. This room used to be a kitchen, hence its proximity to the old dining room that is now part of the living room. Up came the linoleum and beneath it, tar paper. There’s a touch of gray paint in there somewhere too… but the room is awaiting a flooring guy to come fix it up. In the meantime, Guy decided to remove some of the old piping from the old kitchen, still in the old walls. This will leave an avenue to put in new wiring. I haven’tmentioned the wiring yet, have I?

Well, the wiring is a whole issue unto itself. The electrician thinks Guy has rescued us from the worst of it and that the rest can slowly be reworked as we go. It seems the previous homeowner had only enough knowledge to be EXTREMELY dangerous.

So then there’s the kitchen. Arguably, one of the most important rooms in the house. Well, that is because I like too cook and Guy likes to eat. Though he’s a pretty good cook and does owe me a home made dinner… due to a bet we had over this whole process… and he also owes me a home made tart due to another bet… but that is a different story.

The kitchen is ALMOST tolerable now that it’s a bit cleaned up. The dishwasher (hardwired in) went onto the driveway with all the other donatable appliances. The microwave (hardwired in) went onto the driveway… you get the idea. Now that our (clean) microwave is installed and the space which once held the dishwasher gives us a place for the trash and recycling, the kitchen is useable for such things as… well, cooking… making gazpacho, iced teas, and apparently, vodka drinks…

The dining room awaits the completion of the pantry. It will then be unpacked and set up for use. For now, we eat meals at the coffee table. The primary cooking area is actually the patio… on which sits one of the grills… It has been in the mid 90s for most of the duration of this phase of the project. Turning on heat producing appliances is not an option.

The patio, is not just for grilling though. It’s for shade. It’s for drinking a beer in the evening. It’s for… what the heck! This is Colorado?! Where did these mosquitos come from?

Installment one… more to come! Or what is a project but an excuse to buy new tools…

It takes all kinds

2008-07-14T16:38:00.000-07:00

It's an interesting world we live in. For many years I've heard, "it takes all kinds" in tones ranging from amusement to amazement to disgust. But the reality is, it does take all kinds.

I'm trying to buy a home. Goodness knows, if I had to do all that wheeling and dealing with lenders and financing BS, I'd be a screaming mimi (apologies to Mimis everywhere). I'm sick today. In keeping with "physician heal thyself," I'm laying on the sofa drinking juice and intermittently putting ice on my sinuses. I also went to see my PT and friend Serene for a cranial treatment. And then I stopped by Starbucks to have the neighborhood barista make an icey slush to ice my brain from the inside.

It takes all kinds. Without all these different people, my day would have come to a screeching halt or might not have gotten started at all. And I've barely touched the surface of all the people I've worked with today in the short time I've been out of my living room.

I got an email from a friend inviting me to her husband's birthday party. This gave me a chance to ask her about the cancer I'd heard she had. She told me the story. Her cancer was curable and came with a gift, a closeness to her family and appreciation for life she didn't have before.

My neighbors are severely burned. They were injured in separate incidents. One accidental and one intentional. When I walk by their house the only thing I notice is all the love... the love for each other, the love they pour out to all their friends (luckily myself included), and the love grown into the huge sunflowers and tiny roses blooming all over the yard. Tucked between the swiss chard and beet tops there are no weeds, only love. and then there are the strawberries ripening on the bush... "that's the one we planted for the neighbors to eat..." I realized the other day that I see their scars less and less every day. What I see is their smiles, their happiness, and their will to live.

And here I am, sitting in my rental house in Colorado.... waiting to move into a lovely little house with the love of my life. When my life is a hurricane, he is the peace at the eye of the storm. So blessed every day with a chance to help people feel just a little better or have hope about what they are facing. Blessed by great friends and good times. Blessed by all kinds, and just enough chaos to remind me to appreciate it.

July 4th - a different kind of fireworks

2008-07-07T21:49:00.000-07:00

It's July 4 weekend and I don't give a rats a** about fireworks. So I jumped on my bike and went for a ride before anyone had a chance to get drunk and drive. I rode about 3-4 hours with a 1 hr stop at the gym for a swim. Thoroughly exhausted, I went home and did a few things until my friend Sarah came over.

Sarah is a friend from Texas daze. She's an adventure racer who was out on an adventure with her kids Katie and Charlie. They graced my house and let me adventure with them for a few days. This involved chocolate, ice cream, art, dinosaurs, chocolate, gators, aliens, ice cream, and did I mention chocolate?

We spent Saturday afternoon at the Cherry Creek Arts Festival going between adult art and kid art. Sunday we tooled around Fort Collins and found the Swetsville Zoo.

The Zoo is a bunch of sculptures made by a man in Timnath (just East of Fort Collins). Many of the characters are recognizable and some are just fun critters. The exhibit is free though they accept donations. It was so good that Katie and Charlie wanted to donate even though I had already donated for them.

It was the perfect way to forget about work and buying houses and virtually everything else. Thanks Katie, Charlie, and Sarah!

Of Harley Bean and Fireworks

2008-07-03T22:22:00.000-07:00

The sound of fireworks makes me sad.

I remember how the distant pop and hiss used to make Harley tremble and whistle with anxiety. In addition to his Prozac, I'd give him an extra bit of valium wrapped in bacon or steak. I'd coax him onto the bed with me, thinking I could provide enough comfort that he wouldn't notice the fireworks. But as soon as I'd drift off to sleep he'd get up and pace the house. His nails click, click, clicking on the hardwoods and his breath whistling through the tightness of his fear.

On July 1, 2006 I ran the Leadville Marathon in Leadville Colorado. I was sick every couple miles. A drunk had peed on my car in the middle of the night. And someone had egged the other side of my car as I slept fitfully in the back.

On July 2, 2006, I held my beloved Harley as he breathed his last breath without a whistle. Two years later, I still miss him terribly. I don't even remember fire works that year. But now, as I hear them, I remember the twitch of his muscles with every noise.

Tributes:

Oh to hell with my brain
This day of the beast
It tells me that I have done well
To love you despite your faults
by making your life better
My brain is ignorant beyond belief
When matters of the heart are at stake
Or steak, as you would prefer

This is the day I have dread
Or close to it
The day you will join Sister
And run with someone other than me
Oh, I would share you any day
But to give you over
To the transition
Will be agonizing
At best

The gentle understanding in your eyes
For every heartbreak I have encountered
In our years together
That quiet assurance
That you were always there for me
Unconditionally
Unwavering in your loyalty

How could I even begin
To pay tribute
To one who has been
In my every waking hour
For so many, very short, years
To those four feet
Which have been with me
For so many miles

You have been my companion
My sweetness, my Bean
And you will be with me
On every run
On every trail
That beautiful grin
That undying love

Lisa B

Bean

Missing
warm velvet
Twitching muscle
Running partner
Curious nose
Whistle pig

Thinking
Old friend
Frolic
Snowy footprints
Yellow snow
Slippery hill
Big smile

Remembering
Wet feet
Crunchy bowl
Hot bacon
Prozac
One salty kiss
Groaning sigh

Running
Half heard footsteps
Pulling uphill
Cold morning
All girls
Someone missing
Harley Bean

1/23/08

Take the next step

2008-07-01T18:22:00.000-07:00

Yesterday someone made a fantastic post to the ultra list. Here are a few bits from it and how they apply to my life right now.

"Another lesson that I have learned that I wish I would have known when I was younger is that having fear is not the same thing as lacking faith and that fear and faith often go hand in hand. I am scared of plenty of things - and I'm OK with that now.... If I was thinking ahead of time that I could just quit if some adversity arose, then what's to fear in that? There is little to be scared of in anything one does - if that anything is something small or one knows that you can just quit if things get difficult. And so it is in life. When one has a significant dream, quitting is not an option, and one has the faith to take the first step, then some fear can naturally go along with that. I am no longer afraid to be fearful. "

I've told Alexis "Do one thing each day that scares you." What I have found is that if I live by this as much as possible, less and less things scare me.

When I signed up to do the Florida Ironman with Guy, I didn't know how to swim much more than to rescue myself in a pinch. I could play in the water but not much more. Getting in the water was scary. Even if I could touch bottom, I felt panicky, out of control, and totally uncoordinated. But I knew that I could learn to swim.

As I have learned, the fear of swimming has gotten much less. I'd even say I'm mostly comfortable in the pool. Lake swimming is scary but I know that's a matter of unfamiliarity. My skills have improved and I've gotten to the point that I've done a short tri and I've increased my distance steadily.

A few weeks ago, I decided I needed a little help to progress further and faster on the swimming. After the tri, I was back sliding a little in terms of being able to swim longer distances. So I hired a coach.

Wendy from T2 coaching is turning out to be a fabulous influence on my swimming. After the first lesson I felt more balanced in the water and knew a few things to unlearn. I had seen the progress on video and it was amazing in just an hour. It took a lot of swimming over 2 weeks to assimilate the changes. They helped me be more balanced AND helped unveil more areas that needed work.

Today was my second session. We refined some of the skills and drills from the last session. We added some new drills and areas of focus. For the first time, I felt my hand catch the water and push me forward. Instead of windmilling my arms through the water with minimal effect, I was actually propelling myself through the water with some reasonable force. I finished the session excited to do more and to swim tomorrow.

I also chatted with Wendy about my training program... terms used loosely. Sounds like I'm basically on the right course and will refine it later as I approach race time. I'm re-energized and ready to train.

Comeback

2008-07-01T18:21:00.001-07:00

I haven't written poetry in a long time
But then,
I am inspired to write by long runs
And I haven't run long in a long time

There is something about learning to swim
That doesn't inspire words
The not-so-easy focus on getting air out
And getting air in
Without taking on water
Timing breathing and arms and legs
Instead of that easy flow of motion over the ground
And holding my breath only because of the scenery

I no longer sink in the pool
But I have never sunk below the surface
Of a dirt trail with a mountain view

And then there is the bike
This contraption that requires special clothes
Special shoes
Air in the tires
And a helmet
It requires steadiness as fast cars whiz by
Or shocks for the rocks on trail

My own shocks wore out
I took a year off to replace them
Toiling in the gym and PT office
Riding the rails of a Pilates reformer
Like some hobo stowing away on a quest for healing

My life is beyond chaotic
My training like that of a madwoman
I feel my body growing into this new state
Cross trained
Not sport-specific-fit
But overall strong and lean

And yet tonight
I observe my legs while talking to India
The developing muscles
rolling hills on my quads
The race course on the left is much more complex
Than the one on the right
Atrophy grows more obvious as I fight to defeat it

I no longer chafe from the heat of a summer run
But under the slowness of the comeback
I call another PT
I google Pilates studios
I swim
I bike
I run… but not so much

Lisa B
6/30/08

Solace in Salmon

2008-06-30T19:21:00.000-07:00

Hey, it's Monday and I'm on call again. My life hasn't slowed down one little bit.

The house purchase is moving forward. I must admit it has slowed a bit as we wait for the appraisal and finalize financing.

I showed Guy's house on Sunday and have been frantically checking references, etc. We will sign the lease on Wednesday.

I discovered a letter in the mail last night from June 12, forwarded from the old house. It said I never renewed my membership in the Colorado Medical Society so I was no longer a member and therefore not eligible for insurance from my malpractice carrier. I never got a bill. So today I had to put out that fire.

Today was the last day for my malpractice insurance and I have been working with the underwriter on a renewal. Either he doesn't give a rats ass about his job or he's just incomptent but I have called more than monthly since December. Today I had to have another underwriter hurry and finish my policy before it expires.

There were more battles that were fought. It remains to be seen if they were won.

So I came home and "recreated" the dinner Colleen and I made this weekend. Salmon Burgers with pineapple, cilantro mayo. Here's the recipe.

Salmon Burgers

1 lb salmon, chopped in ¼# or smaller pieces
¼ C cilantro
2 T mayonnaise, just enough to moisten
2 T finely chopped red onion or shallot
2 T finely chopped red bell pepper
3 T bread crumbs
1 egg white, beaten
1 T lime juice
2 tsp grated lime rind
½ t salt
Ground pepper

Oil the Grill, it's essential!

Mix together all ingredients and adjust ingredients until you can make patties that stick together. Form into patties and refrigerate at least 15 min.

Place on oiled, hot grill grate and cook on one side for 4-5 minutes. Flip only once, using a greased spatula, and grill for 4-5 more minutes.

Pineapple Mayo

1 Tbsp grated lime rind
3 Tbsp Chopped cilantro
3 Tbsp Mayo
1 1” thick ring of fresh pineapple finely minced

Mix all ingredients. Let stand while you prepare burgers.

Manic Monday

2008-06-23T21:12:00.000-07:00

So it's Monday.
So it's Monday and I'm on call.
So it's Monday and I'm on call and I didn't sleep well last night.
So it's Monday and I'm on call and I didn't sleep well last night because I have way too much stuff on my plate.

In the last 9 days I have...
Moved out of colorado Springs.
Looked at 24 houses in Fort Collins
Put a contract on a house in fort Collins
Closed on my house in Colorado Springs
Cleaned 2 houses in Colorado Springs (1 sold, 1 rental) for new occupancy
Assisted in looking for renters/advertising a rental house in colorado Springs
Had a house inspected in Fort Collins
Done a very detailed inspection objection for a house in Fort Collins "winning" $9000 off the sticker price
Arranged financing through not one, but two possible lenders
Fought the beginnings of a huge battle with my previous employer to get paid what I earned (calling a lawyer tomorrow)
Been on call for 2 days with my current employer
General maintenance on the rental house in Fort Collins
cooked meals for the whole week twice
Worked
Worked out
and who knows what else.

Here's what I'm looking forward to..
Being on call all night tonight
Working my arse off the next 4 days
Finalizing the loan on the new home
arranging homeowners insurance
renewing my malpractice insurance
finding new health insurance (price of cobra jumped 70%)
Setting up the appraisal on the house in Fort Collins
Fielding calls /trying to rent the house in Colorado Springs while Guy is in India for 2 weeks
Packing the rental house in Fort Collins
Dealing with a lawyer to figure out what to do about previous employer and getting paid for the work I already did (why the hell did I give him 6 months notice?)

here's what I'm really looking forward to...
Spending Friday with Amy, Kurt, and the kids
Spending Saturday with Ken and Colleen
A glass of cool white wine
Closing on the house in Fort Collins
Getting paid
Guy coming home from India

Big Thompson

2008-06-22T21:08:00.000-07:00

If there is one thing I need to do in my workout routine, it's more biking. Well, actually, more of everything... but especially more riding.

Friday I spent most of my day off on my bike or in the pool. I rode to the gym, swam, rode to the office, then home. Not an intense workout but a good one. I followed it Saturday by a kickin' swim workout.

So today, we decided to ride from Loveland, CO to Estes Park before meeting our realtor to craft our inspection objections on the house we have under contract. (see photo)

Loveland is pretty much due south of our house in Fort Collins. Estes Park is mostly west from there... all a gradual uphill through the Big Thompson Canyon. Obviously, this is a popular tourist destination at this time of year so traffic can be heavy. The shoulders are wide though so it's tolerable. We did opt for a turn off on a more rural route through Devils Gulch.

We got a later start than planned, as usual. So, we parked a little west of our original starting location. We started pedaling up the canyon at 9:10 a.m. At about 10:55 we decided to turn around. It was obvious from my slow pace that we weren't going to make it to Estes and back in time to meet Kristine. Little did we know she was running late and we would have had the time, if not the energy.

The ride back was mostly downhill, most of it screaming downhill. We got back to the car pretty much at 12:00. A little quick change action at the car and we were ready to grab a quick lunch in Loveland at Henry's Pub. The food was pretty good, the atmosphere very nice. Recommended but not for the burger (the ruben looks mighty tasty).

From a letter to a friend

2008-06-08T13:32:00.001-07:00

I would love to tell you I ran a half marathon this morning but that would be a bald-faced lie. I hiked and ran a half marathon this morning. It was the Baker's Dozen at Horsetooth Mountain Park and it was pathetic and a bitch but I did it. It was a very uphill course... and then the downhill bits I ran. Not sure how they got in so much more up than down...curious that. I'm pleased though, it's my first "event" of any length in 1 1/2 years. Oh, and I won a pair of socks as an age group award... that tells you how few people did it. I was tied for DFL.

Last weekend I did my first triathlon in Longmont. Again, a fairly pathetic time but not all bad. I was mid-pack for my first one. The swim went ok, the bike went well, and the run went great though a little slow after all that other stuff. It was so much easier to just run but now I have an excuse for my sucky run times.

Yesterday I did my first open water swim. That was lame too. Do you see a pattern here? Actually, it was meant to be a learning experience before an open water clinic tonight. It was 61 icy cold degrees in the Aurora Res. Brrrrrr... but that hash name is taken. Thanks heavens for the full wetsuit I bought for swimming. Nevermind the fact that I have to smear butter on most of my bodyparts to wedge myself into it. I got semi-comfortable being in water that is super murky and instead of a little line on the bottom all you can see is fish - big freakin' huge fish. It was a little choppy which also took some getting used to. I managed a few lengths of the swim area and then practiced swimming into the chop around a bouy. Not much of a workout but then we got on the bikes for a couple spins around the res. I mostly loafed it and chatted with a friend I used to run with a lot a couple years ago.

The Real Thing - no, it's not Coke

2008-06-01T17:06:00.000-07:00

Sunday June 1
Where the hell did spring go? Sheesh!
I kicked off the month of June with a splash. Well, actually, 15 minutes of splashing. I was in the second heat (second slowest) for the swim at the Longmont Triathlon this morning. The swim was harder than I thought. I'm not sure if I was nervous, tense, trying to hurry, or all of the above. But I was so out of breath in the swim and never really caught my breath the whole race. I swam 50 freestyle then 1 breast stroke to get through it. Climbing out of the pool I felt great if a little winded.

I got into the transition where my bike was placed in the second row (out of traffic) of the transition and only 2 rows from the bike exit. I ate a cookie; put on shoes, helmet, sunglasses, shirt, and number; hopped on my bike and headed toward the exit. I had to get back off my bike to walk across the chip pad at the exit... drat! forgot about that.

The ride went well. I rode better than I thought I would for the 3 loops. I would guess my time on the bike was about 42-45 minutes but I'm not sure. The ride started with a small uphill, then a loooong gradual downhill for two sides of the square. Then a gradual uphill followed by a steeper short uphill back around.

Back into the transition, I swapped bike shoes for runners and ditched the helmet. I ate another 1/2 cookie and downed 1/2 a bottle of water. I headed out for a 5 k. The run started out the same as the bike. Then I hit that long downhill. About 1/2 way through it I realized that a long downhill probably meant a long uphill. But it was a gradual hill so maybe I wouldn't notice. I barely did. In fact, the course didn't really seem to go back up hill but I know it did. I passed several people on the run but there was no telling what heat they were in. One was a really buff guy who looks like the tri type... I was pleased with that one. I finished in about 1 1/2 hrs. Not too sure of the time but I'll take it!!

Tri for the first time

2008-05-29T12:35:00.000-07:00

“Never do anything in a race that you haven’t done in training”
This is sage advice that I have always tried to follow. But, this weekend is my first triathalon. It is a sprint distance, 525 yd swim, 12 mile bike ride, 5 k run. It is being held in Longmont Colorado. I have no clue what I am doing.

I know how to bike. I know how to run. I now know how to swim enough to do this reasonably well. I have no idea how to put it all together smoothly.

I have been asking questions and getting answers. I’ve been reading people’s gear lists and plotting my course. I am still clueless and will be until after I have experienced the event.

To top it off, I bought my first pair of tri shorts yesterday and plan to do the whole event in them. I have never tried to swim in shorts.

So today, to help me feel a little better about how to go about linking different sports and wearing shorts in the pool, I planned a “Try” type workout. Try it all in training, before the event.

I got up about an hour later than planned. Off to a late start, I rode my bike to the gym. I quickly dumped my backpack into a locker and traded my helmet for a swim cap. I hopped into the pool and swam a quick 550 meters without warming up (other than the bike ride). I felt extra winded and assumed it was the lack of warmup in the water. When I got done, it had been only 12 minutes. Perhaps I was winded because I was moving faster in the water than usual.

I swam the rest of my abbreviated workout (30 instead of 60 min). Then I timed my “transition” from pool to bike via the locker room. Including farting around with locks and backpacks and all that jazz, it took me 5 minutes to get back on the bike. I pedalled home. Once I got home, I hung my bike in the garage, ate 3 cookies, made a bathroom stop, and threw on running shoes. Then I ran on the Spring Creek Trail around Overland Park and back in 45 minutes. Smooth, no. Stacked, yes. Happy, definitely.

What did I learn?
1. If I have my gear ready, it won’t be difficult to put this all together.
2. I’ve already gone the distance in less time than I predicted, I’ll be ok.
3. Tri shorts are not much different than a swimsuit for swimming but are a lot more protective on the thighs for chafing. I’m not sure the rubberized stitching holding the chamois in are much better on the girlie bits though.
4. On pavement, in road shoes, running without socks is no biggie.
5. My bike shoes also fit well without socks.
6. I need more work on my swimming.
7. Food, gotta remember food.
8. A trash bag to cover my transition stuff would be a good idea if it looks like rain.
9. Have fun!

I'll Huff and I'll Puff and I'll blow...

2008-05-27T20:50:00.000-07:00

Into each life some rain must fall….and some hail and damaging winds.

Last week Mother Nature was placed on the most wanted list for terrorists in Colorado. Despite being on the “no-fly” list, she wreaked havoc in the Midwest just a few days later. I’m tellin’ ya, for being a Mom this lady has some harsh tactics and not a lot of love.

I’ve heard of PMS but this was over the top. Last time I saw the old bittie behave this way was in Fort Worth where one of her tantrums took out a sky scraper office building. But, last week she spent her wrath on a peaceful part of Northern Colorado near where I’ve relocated.

Windsor is a sleepy little town about 15 minutes southeast of Fort Collins. I’m not sure Fort Collins is large enough to have a “bedroom community” but perhaps it’s a trundle bed community for the Fort. Or maybe the bunk bed community for Fort Collins AND Greeley, in case these two college towns want to have a sleep over. I digress.

Last week Mother Nature unleashed a fury of hailstones on Windsor. As if that wasn’t enough, she set loose a mile-wide tornado to plow into the center of town. Some friends live a couple blocks from the destruction and took a little hail and debris damage. The neighborhood that got a direct hit was decimated. Even a building made from brick four layers thick was blown out.

We went into the neighborhood and parked near the Salvation Army, Biggins BBQ and one of the Red Cross groups. In the neighborhood, we found a bunch of people from a Mormon church coordinating efforts. The Red Cross had water, food, and other necessities. Hundreds of people dressed in light rainjackets, heavy leather gloves, and heavy boots blanketed the area picking up debris, trash, and what was left of people’s lives. Against the fence posts, all that was left of the fences sat stuffed animals, toys, and hanging on the fences were children’s clothes.

Some houses were down to one or two walls left. Others had one wall or half the roof blown away. A few were fortunate enough to have boarded windows where the glass was gone and a few bits of siding missing. Everything in the neighborhood was plastered with tiny bits of insulation as if it had been blown in to the whole neighborhood wet… it was. Vehicles that had been parked in the neighborhood had huge dents, no windows, insulation spray, and often the hoods blown off.

Despite the destruction, many houses were decorated with American flags to commemorate Memorial Day. One house had a large spray painted message saying “God Bless the Volunteers.” And other items such as boats said “Trash, take me.”

After a few hours of cleanup and helping people move/ pack / store what was left, we went back to our friend’s house to rest a bit. It seemed so cozy and safe. We played with their three month old boxer puppy and her mother. We visited. Then we went back to our own house of sticks to live like fat piggies hoping that wolf doesn’t come blowing at our door.

Eau de Goodyear

2008-05-19T19:35:00.000-07:00

It’s not supposed to be a good thing when someone takes out a contract on you. But, when someone takes out a contract on your house THAT is cause for celebration.

On my way back from kayaking I got the messages that someone wants my lovely little home in Colorado Springs. Whee!!!

So I celebrated by going to my realtor’s house sweaty and smelling like a spare Goodyear tire (wet suits make you stink!!) to sign paperwork.

The only thing that could end the weekend better would be snuggling up to Guy after a nice shower… oh yeah, got to do that too!

My life is rich!

Boat Shopping

2008-05-19T19:15:00.002-07:00

This weekend Guy and I loaded up the Leopard and headed to Cotopaxi Colorado, just East of Salida on the Arkansas River. Buy was teaching a kayak clinic for the weekend and managed to slide me in to the beginner group. Bear in mind, I’m one of the biggest chickens that ever walked on land. Last I remember, chickens don’t swim, ducks do. But, I am learning to swim so perhaps I’m some part TurDucEn (http://www.chefpaul.com/turducken.html).

Saturday morning the “A” group headed to the pool. I had borrowed a nice Dagger GT from one of the experienced kayakers who was hoping to sell it. The price was good and I enjoyed the boat. However, after 4 hours in a HOT pool (fed by hot springs) learning the basics and trying in vain to get one successful roll, my hips were screaming and I was exhausted.

I made it through lunch only dozing off once and not planting my face in my hummus and pita. We suited up for the afternoon on the river to run from the KOA campground down to Lone Pine. This part of the river is very flat with only a few riffles. Still, there’s a reasonable current and plenty of chances to play across the eddy lines. We learned to “Ferry” in and out of the eddies and to “peel out.”

By dinner, I was nearly too tired to eat. Too bad the word “nearly” appears in that. Dinner was unrecognizable… pretty much predigested… perhaps that was ok since I was too tired to digest. I also had a screaming headache from dehydration and carrying a kayak on my shoulder. I bummed some advil and laid down about 8:30 for a short nap. That short nap turned into almost 12 hours of sleep punctuated by strange dreams. Something about taking codeine cough syrup, it creates strange dreams for nights on end.

In the morning, I was barely able to walk across the campground with my hips so tight. I’m not used to sitting in a frog positon for hours at a stretch. I opted for another day on the river and borrowed another boat that was for sale. This one turned out to be infinitely more comfy for my hips and though slightly less maneuverable for a novice was fine. This boat was also less than 1/3 the cost… so I bought it.

The section of the river was the same for the first mile. The next two miles offered more opportunities to play. Several in our group tried surfing but I knew my arms were too tired to paddle fast enough to get it. I will try it when I’m fresher. We went through one rapid which was hard for us being beginners but is called “warm up” because it is pretty wimpy for the experienced paddlers.

I managed to find virtually every pour-over and pour myself over it. Then I managed to find a big rock convention and hit it head on. I ended up perched on top of a rock in the midst of the pile. I saw a small eddy to one side and behind a rock so I dove for it, knocking my boat off the rock into the water. It was smooth to get back into the flow from there.

All in all it was a terrific weekend. I’m sure it’ll take a few days before my muscles recover which will be my reminder that I’ve picked up a new sport.

Thursday May 17

2008-05-19T19:15:00.001-07:00

The end of anticipation
Six months ago, I gave notice at Strode Family Practice. This was my first position as a full-fledged physician. Over my years in residency and nearly three years as an employee at Strode, I grew to care deeply for many people. Some of them feel much like family.

I was honored by many patients wishing I would not leave, some even crying. Several vitually ripped my heart out with the conviction with which they wished me well and simultaneously wished I would stay.

I will miss my patients. I will also miss some of the staff… especially Craig and Dr. Mandell.

I will not miss the cattiness. I will not miss the drama. There are a few other things I will not miss.

On the whole, I am glad to be starting fresh in Fort Collins. I just wish I could bring a few of the most special of my patients with me.

of History and the Present

2008-05-08T22:15:00.000-07:00

I am currently listening to Bill Bryson’s “A Short History of Nearly Everything.” It is the history of scientific exploration into whom and/or what we are, how we got here, where ‘here’ is, and how tenuous our grasp may be. It is probably the most fascinating thing I’ve ever heard.

Nothing I have ever heard or read from science or religion has made me so amazed nor made me consider how incredible it is that we exist at all. Every minute of this work reminds me what a fantastic and complex world we live in. It also reminds me to appreciate, savor, and be amazed at every second we have.

In looking at the history of the universe in this time-lapse view, I am struck by the ridiculousness and arrogance of humans to think we are so important that we could cause global warming and that we could somehow fix it. And I am also encouraged that so many people would dedicate their life’s work to working for the betterment of the planet whether or not it is an achievable goal.

When I think of it from this perspective, I have to ask myself what part of this experience of existance to I appreciate the most and what does it mean to me. And surprisingly, only one word comes to mind… Love.

If I knew the world was going to end tomorrow, or even in a minute, what would matter to me the most is that the people I love would know with absolute certainty that they were loved. I don’t know why that means so much to me but it does. Perhaps that is a universal thing… or nearly so… since what I know of world religions (apparent foundations for people’s functioning/beliefs) includes Love as the basic principle that guides everything.

Maybe this means so much to me because today was a virtual love-fest. I saw many people today who expressed gratitude and love to me for the last 4-5 years of listening, looking, and caring that I have given to them.

Whatever the reason (if there is one) that we are here on this tiny planet in this vast, expanding universe… which is at once incredibly fragile and fierce… I am thrilled to experience this moment.

Courage atrophies from lack of use

2008-05-05T20:50:00.000-07:00

I read that once on an ad in a magazine. It showed a woman at the top of a particularly gnarly downhill on her bike.

I'm about the biggest weenie that ever rode a mountain bike. I can't come near a drop off without holding my breath or making some unbecoming sqawk. Rocks and sharp turns make me so tense I can't possibly deal with them effectively. By the end of any kind of technical section I'm exhausted and frustrated. Enough of that!

This weekend I signed up for a mountain bike clinic through Women's Wilderness Institute. We did skill drills all morning and then went out for a loop. Mind you, this was on a very popular trail in Boulder where mountain bikers wear those trendy color matched sets that you usually only see in road races. One guy was decked out head to toe (literally) in powder blue. I'm not sure that would make me feel more courageous but he was out there riding it much better than I was so maybe I need to go shopping.

The loop was very rideable. It did have a few nice dropoffs to make me deal with that demon. And there were rocks and hairpin turns and creek crossings and big knobby roots all at the same time. So, we found section after section and rode back and forth through it again and again until we either got it or lost sufficient blood to move on. It helped. Well, not the bloodletting part.

So, I learned a little about mountain biking and a lot about fashion. Don't worry, you won't catch me in all powder blue. I don't have the courage for that!

Cleaning the Pantry

2008-05-03T20:55:00.000-07:00

I'm trying to use up a lot of food in the pantry. Combining two pantries makes for a lot of eating to be done. Yesterday we used up a box of roasted red pepper and tomato soup by adding pureed roasted pine nuts, onions, garlic, thyme, and cumin. It was decent but I wouldn't use that soup as a base. Making fresh red pepper soup would be infinitely better even if you didn't know how to make the soup.

Tonight I used a box of butternut squash soup. This one is worth making again.

Curried Butternut Squash Soup

1 lb lamb stew meat (or beef if you don't like lamb - I like the taste and let Guy eat the meat)
1 box chicken broth
1/2 sweet onion, chopped
3 cloves garlic, chopped
2 Tbsp olive oil
1 Tbsp (heaping) curry powder
1 Tbsp yellow curry paste (if available)
1 box butternut squash soup
2 C frozen mixed veggies

Saute onion and garlic in oil. Add meat and sear until browned. Add curry and saute 1-2 minutes more. Add chicken broth and cook at least 1 hour. Add squash soup and heat until nearly boiling. Add veggies. Continue cooking until hot through. Serve.

Keeping my head above water

2008-05-03T20:54:00.000-07:00

I started swimming in November. I have had a few lessons in the past but could never seem to get it. I considered myself a sinker (no T in that). I couldn’t swim 25 meters (one length) without stopping midway to gasp and pant.

In the past, I’d try to learn and would give up as soon as whatever had stopped me from running was resolved. But in November, I decided it was time I really learned. I’d been off running for a full year and though I was starting to run again, I knew I could have been doing a lot to stay in shape if only I had known how to swim. I would not be starting at such a deficit.

So, I decided I had to put my money where my mouth was. I plunked down five hundred smackeroos on Ironman Florida next November. Within one year, I would have to be able to swim 2.5 miles or become shark bait off the coast of Panama City. [Don’t worry Mom, there will be no sharks around with that many swimmers and they have many boats and also divers underwater to fetch any ill-prepared swimmers]

A week ago, Guy and I were swimming at EPIC the local pool and ice arena. Guy made the novel suggestion to see just how slowly I could swim without sinking like a stone. He suggested I use this to try to swim 100 meters. So I did. By the time I finished the 100 meters, I was laughing at how ridiculous I felt going so slow but how successful it was. I decided to challenge myself to add 50 meters every time I swim.

Wednesday at work my friend Eve stopped by. Eve had been giving me some early coaching in December and knew what a miserable swimmer I was; good technique, lousy endurance. I told Eve of my progress. She was happy for me but was not impressed with my plan to add 50 meters. She challenged me to swim 250 in the morning. So, I did. In fact, I did 300. Seems I do well with these challenges.

Today Guy and I headed back to the pool. We went to my gym for the saline pool as the pulmonologist suggested I stay away from the chlorine. However, the pool was full of little old ladies doing water aerobics. So we drove to EPIC for a workout. When we arrived we were greeted by a sign saying the pool was closed for the weekend for a swim meet. By now the aerobics class would be over so we went back to 24 fitness. Now the pool was filled with swimmers who, like us, had been waiting for the class to end. Foiled again!

Next we tried the Mulberry Pool. This city has a lot of pools. Mulberry is obviously older and caters to the small swimmer. There is a large slide complex in one end and lanes in the other. The locker room was innundated with half-pints screaming, crying, and otherwise throwing tantrums. I arrived at poolside on the verge of a headache.

Guy immediately started challenging me to push my workout beyond learning the basics. After a warmup we swam 5 repeats of 50 meters. I did mine every 1.5 minutes. We repeated the set after a few minutes. He wanted to do 100s next but I wanted to do my 400 meters so that I would meet my goal of increasing by 50 meters every time I swim. So we did that next. Then we did 100s every 2:45 but I only had enough juice left for 2 of them followed by a 50. I finished up with a very long gentle warm down to finish out 2000 meters.

Progress!

cookies

2008-04-29T20:18:00.000-07:00

it's been busy and I haven't been posting.

But, tonight I sit here in my little house in the Springs with the smell of chocolate chip cookies wafting down the hallway. I am cooking them to make the house smell less vacant. Now it smells like a yummy desireable house. I hope someone wants to look at it.

My fit life has taken a turn for the better. I ran 12.5 miles last Friday and felt good. Not even sore. Swam 1 hr 20 min on Sunday. Actually swam 100 meters without stopping. yesterday I did 150. If I add 50 per workout I will be able to swim the entire 525 yds of the Longmont Tri doing the front crawl. Not saying I'll have much left for the bike and run.

Does anybody have a St. Peter figurine I can bury in the back yard?

Finally, poetry

2008-04-29T20:17:00.000-07:00

Coming Out
(Confessions of a bi-seasonal athlete)

Summer came with a quick kiss
To tempt me to the trails
He enveloped me in heat
And brought flowers to woo me
from my playpen

I pull myself up on the sides
And learn to let go
To experience the world in another plane
Legs move differently
In the saline horizontal
Arms a crooked windmill
At once immersed in slip and resistance

Winter is losing weight
But will not say goodbye
Her skeletons’ silouette against the night
Moon not yet risen
To dull the hoary whiteness of her teeth

I am done with her
for now
Save perhaps one last sip
Of the dregs of passion
Until she is grown too thin to be attractive

A raven sits atop the fencepost
And watches me uncovering myself
Ready for the next steps
That will delight my body

I have found a new place
Far from the watchful eyes of the city
Where the rocks are the color of sin
And the gravel sparkles when the sun walks by
And the grasses bow in reverence
And the wind muffles the sound of my breath

Here I will begin my affair with Summer
And he will take me to places I have not been
I know he is a fickle lover
And will grow weary when my callouses thicken
And the pale has worn off my skin
But I will have new memories
And will welcome Winter back
When she has grown fat once again

LB 4/18/08

Ben Eiseman Hut

2008-03-31T20:52:00.000-07:00

A few years back, Guy got to know a really fun bunch of people who also happen to be fabulous back country skiers. Last year, he invited me along on a ski trip to one of the 10th Mountain Division Huts outside Leadville. This year, the group reserved the Ben Eiseman Hut about 7 miles north of Vail.

This group has been doing hut trips together for some time. They have their system down. Several people bring in the food, a few more bring in beer, and everyone has their contribution. We meet in small clusters at the trailhead and ski or snowshoe in together. Everyone has their own pace based on experience, fitness, and amount of goodies carried. Being a weenie on all counts, I tend to gravitate toward the slower groups. This is not always a good thing.

For this trip, several folks went in the day before we were to head in. The great thing about this arrangement is that the hut is warm and inviting when you finally get there. Another group of hard core backcountry guys departed in the morning. We met with a whole bunch of people at the trailhead and started off together knowing we’d break up into various groups. Somehow those who knew the route were faster and got out well ahead of us. The rest of us were left to get lost in the snowy wonderland … or perhaps that should be wanderland.

After adding a couple miles to our trek, we backtracked to find the real trail. We managed to help two of the others find the turn off we had missed as they were about to pass it. These were very important people carrying Saturday’s dinner. From that point onward, the trail was fairly straightforward. If easier to find, there was nothing easy about the trail. It seemed to climb endlessly and gradually skyward. Funny thing about these mountain trails.

My feet were already beginning to blister pretty badly. I stopped at the creek crossing to tape a few blisters on my ankles and toes. Relief was minimal but at least I wouldn’t have bloody stumps in my ski boots by the end. And so we climbed.

At one point, the trail was on a side hill. For about ½ mile we skied with one leg short. It was tempting to turn around just for the relief on the legs but then that wouldn’t have served the purpose, now would it? The trail map said there would be an “abrupt change in terrain” with steep switchbacks thereafter. Trail from there was supposed to be two miles. But, since the trail from the creek to there was obviously longer than 2 miles, there was no telling. We kept thinking we found an “abrupt change” but apparently it wasn’t the right one.

When the light faded completely, we stopped to put on headlamps. Sunset was at about 7:30. We had set out at about 12:30. Youch! Two of the early arrivals had headed out to assist the skiers behind us. A short time further down trail a few more gallant souls would come out to help us get our gear up the steeper parts. I was very grateful for the help. By then, my movement seemed barely more than a shuffle. “Relentless forward motion” was the mantra from Ultrarunning that kept going through my head.

When we arrived at the hut, there was a warm fire (though we were roasting from the exertion most of the day) and hot chili. Shortly after that, I passed out, missing the night’s festivities.

Saturday was a bit cloudy but warmish. Everyone went out to ski. My feet were not cooperating with the idea of putting on boots so I stayed behind and took a nap. When everyone came back from their respective ski fun, we had happy hour… which became happy evening… which became happy wee hours. Most of the group started out with Texas Hold’em or cribbage. Once enough schnapps had been consumed and no one could play cards well, the games deteriorated to F**K your neighbor and Thumper… flashback to college days and those old drinking games.

The abundance of empty listerine (schnapps) bottles, wine bags, beer cans, etc didn’t bode well for a good morning. Nonetheless everyone woke cheery to breakfast burritos, a quick cleanup of the hut, and some more ski time. Knowing I would have to skin out anyway, I braved the boots and got in a run behind the cabin. The powder was spectacular.

On the ski out we were amazed by how much up hill we had to climb. How is it these trails are uphill both ways? Those downhills had been barely noticed on the way in. Overall, it was mostly easy and beautiful downhill on the way out.

Until next year. Ben Eiseman 2008.

Wishful Thinking

2008-03-26T20:31:00.000-07:00

Today was one of those long daze. It started when the alarm went off at 4 a.m. I dragged myself away from the sexiest naked man in the world to drive 2 1/2 hours to work. There couldn't be much harder to do. Add to that it was going to be a glorious day, just the kind where you'd like to laze in bed until the sun is full up and then call in well to work so you can run around a lake somewhere for hours on end.

Sigh! I drove the 2 1/2 hours to Colorado Springs to face a full schedule of mostly sick people and two, count 'em two, desks full of paperwork. Alexis tried to keep me amused and entertained but my mind wanted to go back to that warm bed. The rest of me did too but that couldn't be done.

After work I had a meeting for the Continuing Education and Research Committee (of which I'm a commit -ee... kinda institutional, huh?!) for the Colorado Springs Osteopathic Foundation. For once, I feel like we made progress and when I report to the Bored Meeting next week, I'll have something to show for our two hour's work.

Then I headed back to my lovely little house on the market. The flowers and plants properly watered, the floors and counters spiffed... time to pay the bills... and now a little time for rest. My mind wanders back to that warm bed. My bed here will be cold and empty. I turn on the electric blanket.

Tomorrow will also start early. If I go to bed soon, perhaps I can swim before my run with Janna and Jen. I smoked my legs yesterday swimming and doing kicking drills. How to make an ultrarunner (or used to be) feel fat and out of shape... put her in a pool. But I'm getting better, she protests.

To sleep! To sleep! No distractions sez Wellington T. Bear watching over my keyboard. to sleep and then to wake to another day with a run, perhaps a swim, and caring for those who let me. Another drive, and finally, home to see if a sexy man might be in my bed. I can hope!

Subdivision Hell

2008-03-25T08:40:00.000-07:00

I bought my house in Colorado Springs before I really had a chance to live in and drive around the city. When I got to Colorado, I never drove around looking for a place to live. I imagine I’d have found it just as “icky” there as I’m finding the housing situation here.

Fort Collins, it seems, is region after region of privacy fenced subdivisions with cookie cutter houses that are cheaply made. Sure, some are nice and have a nice back yard and deck… but ick! Where is the character. I can have a house with character in the Old Town area but can’t have a garage there.

What I really want is a house up against the hills. But those are the same kind of neighborhoods, only bigger houses and bigger price tags. Most of them go for 400,000 on up. Yikes!!

Tucked in between the subdivisions are tiny little horse ranches. You can almost see the vultures on the telephone wires waiting for the land to go on sale. I can’t imagine what one of those little spots would cost. But again, not very close to the hills.

Send good house hunting ju ju!!

Spring Inspiration

2008-03-18T13:21:00.000-07:00

John Morelock wrote something beautiful (again) today about Spring. It inspired me. I have gotten in a few outdoor runs despite the last throes of winter... but mostly time on the dreadmill and in the pool. By the time summer comes I should be prime for getting one of those boring speedo tans while lake swimming. No bikini lines for me.

Winter is a jealous mistress
She tosses her anger when Spring comes to visit
In ugly fits of ice and rage
The wind encourages her with chattering gossip
Rattling bony branches
Under her darkened brow

Winter watches as we remove our clothes for Spring
We bare our legs and arms to the sun
And our soles to the clearing trails
We are giddy with the perfume of Spring
And the promise of renewal
All the while, she plots her revenge

Our infidelity to her frigid presence
Is rewarded with frost and glare
She forces us to cover ourselves again and again
Until we exhaust her
And she cries herself to sleep
Soaking spring rain

LB
3/18/08

Keeping Warm

2008-03-10T20:17:00.000-07:00

The coming of fall is punctuated by large metal drums and propane jets on nearly every corner. Green chile vendors from New Mexico bring bushels of Hatch chiles to sell. The air is filled with that wonderful eye-nipping fragrance as the roasters turn the crank on metal cages of chiles over wicked flames.

The coming of fall foretells months of cold here in Colorado. There are plenty of ways to keep warm... fireplaces, skiing until you sweat, old fashioned snuggling, and cooking something good with the bushels of Hatch chiles put up in the fall.

It has been a cold winter. Five bushels have dwindled to 3. Batches of green chile stew, enchiladas, chile pot pie, and other delights have kept us from growing weary of cold nights, something to look forward to during dim days.

It's nearly impossible to get tired of green chile dishes. But sometimes there is that little urge for something different; something new. The internet yields few ideas save for new ways of doing the old recipes. And so, my mind wanders.

Green Chile Risotto

4-5 Cups stock (chicken, fish or vegetable as appropriate)
2 tablespoons butter
1 Cup sliced mushrooms
3 shallots, finely chopped
2 cloves garlic, finely chopped
6 – 8 roasted anaheim or hatch chiles, finely chopped
14 ounces arborio rice
Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
2 wine glasses dry white wine
2 1/2 ounces butter
3 1/2 ounces freshly grated Parmesan or asiago

Heat stock and leave on stove on low. In a separate pan heat 1 Tbsp butter. Add mushroom and saute until browned. Remove to a bowl. Melt the other Tbsp butter. Add the shallots, garlic and peppers and saute for about 3 minutes.

When the vegetables have softened, add the rice, season with salt and pepper and turn up the heat. Stir constantly until rice is translucent. Add wine and keep stirring.

Once the wine has cooked into the rice, add a ladleful of hot stock and a good pinch of salt. Stir continuously. Turn down the heat to a moderate simmer so the rice doesn't cook too quickly on the outside. Continue adding ladles of stock, stirring and allowing each ladle of liquid to be absorbed completely before adding the next. This will take around 15-25 minutes. Continue adding stock until the rice is soft but with a slight bite.

Remove from the heat and add mushrooms, butter and cheese. Stir gently. Place lid on pan and allow to sit for 2 to 3 minutes. Serve immediately.

Sunpink

2008-03-09T21:11:00.000-07:00

Spring hit Fort Collins this weekend. The snow is gone except in the shadiest of spots. I saw one tiny pile when we ran yesterday. Of course, Winter will return for a few more encores but this weekend was NICE.

Friday night downtown was hopping with college students. We met some friends and checked out a couple bars until closing time. The streets were crowded at 2:30 a.m. with kids looking for cabs and just hanging out. Saturday was gloriously warm even at 4 p.m. when we ran.

Today I sat outside at a friends house playing with their 4 week old puppies. There were 9 boxer pups and Shelby, the mom to cuddle. Shelby is back to her svelte figure and is ignoring the puppies for the most part because she prefers to be petted and played with. She's no longer responsible for their feeding so there is no need for her to be particularly maternal.

There really isn't much outside of a kitchen or garden that smells better than puppy breath. And having a mosty toothless puppy gnaw on your nose or ears is the best therapy you could find even if you don't really need therapy. I sat and laid on a blanket soaking up puppy snuggles and sunshine. I even got the first pinkness in my cheeks for the year since I only put on 10 sunscreen this morning.

Mango curry isn't just for bad days any more. I made a batch tonight with a bit of extra sauce to try freezing it... and some to share with Ken and Colleen. The recipe is perfectly reproducible as written in my earlier post. MMMMmmmm. That and veggie spring rolls made a perfect dinner. Follow that with chocolate pots du creme for Guy's birthday cake...

Making it stick

2008-03-07T17:27:00.001-08:00

Today I made a contract with myself on www.stickk.com. It’s a contract to work out and train for the next 34 weeks. If I don’t do it, $5 goes to a charity each week. I have a referree and supporters. Sounds like a plan.

I had swimming on my schedule for today, my day off. It was a beautiful day so I was contemplating riding my bike the 6.5 miles to the gym. After making the contract, it sealed the deal. I dug out my bike and appropriate gear. I spent a frustrating half hour not finding my daypack so I borrowed Guy’s. I packed my swimming gear, locks, and the stuff for the post office into the pack.

I set off from our house headed just a bit south to catch the Spring Creek bike trail. This is a fantastic trail that angles across town toward my office. The sun was shining and there was a moderate breeze. Perfect for shorts and a windbreaker.

The trail angles northeast and my gym is southeast. I went a few miles enjoying the trail and was supposed to turn on a southbound trail called the Mason trail. Unfortunately it wasn’t marked as such so I doubled back… twice. I finally found my way to the Mason trail and went south looking for a cross street that would take me past the post office. By the time I hit a cross street, I was well south of the post office. So I headed due east to the gym after about a 50 minute ride… obviously more than 6.5 miles by this route.

The gym is brand-spankin’ new. In fact, they are having their grand opening beginning at midnight tonight (24 h fitness). They put in a 25 m pool that is only 2 lanes wide. No worries though, no one else was there. I had the pool to myself. And, I managed to have a great 50 minute swim. I even swam 150 meters without stopping for the first time. I swam 5 x 50 on the minute. My arms and shoulders are smoked!

Now starving, I got back on the bike to ride home. I took a more direct route with a quick stop at the post office to buy stamps and one at the tiny Asian grocery for thai basil which they didn’t have. The did have seafood shumai so I grabbed a package to steam for lunch. Riding time was 45 minutes. I squeezed in ten minutes of stretching for good measure before cleaning the house and taking a shower.

So for day one, I have fulfilled two of my week’s workouts and gotten 10 points toward the Butt Bustin Challenge. Time for Starvin’ Marvin to go eat again!

Unpacking

2008-03-02T20:44:00.001-08:00

The best way to organize a kitchen is to make a huge mess of it while making some yummy food. This technique allows you to rearrange things into a more useful configuration. It is a process. For example, that wine in the bottle by the window would be much more useful in the glass in that cupboard. Once that is accomplished it is more obvious that the wine would be more useable if poured into my mouth… and so on.

After a few spring-like days, Winter returned today. I spent the day inside, mostly, recovering from a whirlwind weekend of parties, slush bumps, hockey, and late nights. Something winterish sounded good to cook while organizing the kitchen. I dug through the freezer and pulled out chiles. The usual Green Chile enchiladas would be good but perhaps also something new…

Tomatoless red chile

Red Chile
1 med onion, chopped
6 cloves garlic, chopped
2 lb beef chuck roast, trimmed and cubed
Flour, salt, and pepper to dredge
2 qts roasted hot red chiles, cleaned and chopped
2 heaping tsp cumin pdw
2 tsp paprika
¼ t celery salt or 1 tsp celery seed
1 ½ tsp thyme
1 tsp oregano
½ t cinnamon or nutmeg
2 bay leaves
Chicken broth (about 1-2 cups)
1 lb shrimp (optional)

Saute onion and garlic until translucent. Dredge cubed beef in flour, salt, and pepper and brown with onion and garlic. Remove from pan and set aside.

Add remaining ingredients and bring to a boil. Simmer approximately ½ hour. Remove ½ of chile mixture including both bay leaves. Puree chiles in pan with wand blender. Add removed chiles and meat. Simmer ½ - 1 hour. Add shrimp if desired and cook through, about 5 minutes.

Change of Scenery

2008-02-28T09:13:00.001-08:00

Every day as I move through my daily routine, I am treated to some of the most beautiful scenery imaginable. Besides waking to Guy’s fabulous smile, I get to watch the sunrise on the mountains and the sun setting behind them. On weekends, we usually glide through a winter wonderland up in Summit County.

Most people don’t understand why we might want a change of scenery… but we decided to gather some friends and make a trip to ski in Utah. My brother caught wind of the trip and signed on to search for fresh powder with us.

The group delegated duties for researching lift ticket prices, booking the condo, arranging a rental vehicle, planning and preparing meals, etc. We ended up with a Condo at the Canyons about half way between Salt Lake City and Park City Utah, a large SUV, and of course an excess of food. The condo had a hot tub on the main floor, 3 bedrooms, and a well stocked kitchen. It was also in a great location as a base for skiing many areas.

The first day we went to Alta. Alta is up one of the Cottonwood Canyons. It is known for being steep, rocky, and having deep powder. It is also known for having long traverses to get to the good runs. It was here that Kevin began to earn his nickname, Traverse. He was our guide and would spend the weekend taking us around the mountain to all the best runs. He was terrific at checking in to be sure everyone was getting what they needed without spending too much time over their heads. I appreciated it because I am probably the weakest of the lot in terms of skiing skill and fearlessness. With a little psyching up, I can overcome most of that weakness.

Alta lived up to its reputation. We had nearly white-out conditions all day which meant fresh snow all day long. What we lacked in visibility we made up for by skiing by braille. We got one real break in the vis and immediately Traverse took us through a bowl that was deep with creamy powder. Most of the rest of the time we spent hugging the trees since vis was best in those areas. We even did one steep run that required dropping over a small rock ledge. It tested my courage to get over those rocks… not sure what it is about rocks that are so intimidating.

The second day was Snowbird. Snowbird also boasts steep and deep. Much of it seems less rocky but it has some spectacular cliff bands, glorious trees, and cornices to ramp up the adrenaline. Once again, traverses are part of the terrain negotiation and we did several to get to the good stashes. I had a frustrating morning, feeling ½ a bubble off but by mid-day was back on track. We ran a couple particularly steep runs that really ramped up the fun. And at the end of the day was a cornice drop into a steep run just below the Tram. Being a featherless chicken, I did find a notch to drop though instead of taking the cornice and trying to dodge the rocks below. “Do one thing every day that scares you” is easy when skiing in Utah. And somehow it gets easier as you do.

The last day of skiing we stayed close to the Condo and went to the Canyons. This area ranges pretty far and wide with slightly less steepness but generally ample powder. We toured the area checking out various interesting runs that the patrollers said might have good stashes. Some of them were rich. The patrol said that on a busy day they get about ¼ of the skiiers that a busy Summit County resort gets. As with the other two days, there were essentially no lift lines.

We had scheduled to leave the ski area by 4 at the latest and targeted a 3 p.m. return to the car. At about 2:45 as we rode up one more lift, at about the halfway point we suddenly say lightening which was followed by a long, low-rumbling thunderclap. Yikes! Here we are dangling at treetop height in a metal chair holding metal poles and it’s lightening. Of course, the ski area has to shut down the lifts. So when we reached the top, they made a feeble attempt to direct us to the bottom. The trouble was, it was now snowing and was nearly a white-out . We missed the turn with 99% of the rest of the skiiers and ended up back at the same lift. This area has no way out except to take another lift. Unfortunately, it was nearly ½ hour before the lifts came back online.

On our way again, we enjoyed one last run in the 3 inches of fresh that had fallen in the last hour. We crammed gear into the car, planning to pack at the airport once the snow had melted off, and headed out. Shortly after we hit the highway, we came to a dead stop. We sat on the highway for about 1 hr 40 min as it was shut down about 2 miles ahead. Our time was slipping away fast. We finally got to the airport at 6:24 for our 7 p.m. flight. As the rental car agent did the return we stuffed our bags. Guy was first off the starting line and into the terminal. I followed a few minutes later just as he called to say he was checked in. I ran carrying my bags and skis to the baggage drop off while phoning the others and telling them to run. We cut the security line and peeled off shoes, jackets, etc. for security. On the other side, we grabbed them and ran for the gate without even stopping to put on shoes . When we got to the gate, we took off our ski pants and extra clothing for more comfort on the flight. In the end, our whole crew made it to the flight. It was a wild end to a fabulous trip.

Cure for a bad day - Endorfin Rush

2008-02-19T18:11:00.000-08:00

Mango Curry Stir Fry

3 cloves garlic, minced
2 stalks lemongrass, sliced
2 t sesame oil
2 t olive oil
2 T yellow curry paste
¼ c thai basil leaves
3 habanero peppers sliced (optional)
1 can coconut milk
1 can Jumex mango nectar
1 mango, diced

Saute Garlic and lemongrass in oil. Add basil, curry, and peppers. Saute 1 minute more. Add coconut milk and mango juice. Reduce by half. Add diced mango. Let simmer while preparing stir fry.

Serve with any combination of vegetables, chicken, shrimp. Once they are stir fried, stir with sauce.
Serve with rice.

If you are really feeling masochistic and needing to use up things in the fridge… here’s a weird pairing for you.

I served this veggie stir fry tonight with seared tuna stead. Along side that was grilled asparagus and habanero poppers. Recipe to follow… think I wanted an endorfun rush?

Habanero or Jalepeno poppers

Cut the stem end off the pepper
Carve out the pith and seeds while keeping the pepper intact
Mix cream cheese and grated cheddar with just enough hot sauce to moisten
Stuff the peppers
Wrap ½ slice of bacon over the pepper to cover the stuffed end
Skewer them together
Grill over medium high heat until bacon is crispy

This too shall pass

2008-02-19T16:08:00.000-08:00

It is ironic that trying to call the DEA (Drug Enforcement Agency) and sitting on hold for ½ hour listening to muzac made me want to pop a bunch of pills. When my cell phone prematurely disconnected the call my thoughts turned more toward jumping off a cliff. In the end, I discovered I can’t do what I needed to do and what I had to do needed to be done through their website…

Next I called to update my National Provider something-or-other number. Another 20 minutes on hold only to find out I can’t make that update either… and what I can do needs to be done online. I love online stuff but when it won’t do what you need, what can you do?

Four updates to the same page of my credentialling application for Poudre Valley Hospital. Three calls to the resort property company to get a live person so I can book an airport shuttle. Two times printing my CME information because in the disorganization of the move I lost it. And a F*cking Partridge in a Pear Tree!

Close to a complete melt down, I took a 20 minute nap and then had an iced decaf mocha. I know that jumping off cliffs isn’t good for my health… so I opted for the next least healthy option.

Tonight I’m going to cook mango coconut curry with habanero peppers and loads of fresh veggies. ON the side will be a tuna steak seared lightly. And then there will be the habanero poppers … the only thing missing will be my Harley to eat the crispy bacon off the outside of the peppers. No doubt Guy can chop it into a breakfast burrito tomorrow morning.

That and cleaning the inside of my car (where it seems I now live), painting my toenails “Dominant Jeans” blue, and organizing my sock drawer has made my day complete.

Ever have a hero?

2008-02-12T20:55:00.000-08:00

Someone once asked me who my hero was. I didn’t have an answer… or at least, not a good one. I’m not sure I have a better answer now but I have met a lot of people who are heroes of a sort. Perhaps it is that I don’t really understand what a hero is. If it is someone that represents something special, exceptional, and is bigger than life then I know a bunch of heroes. In fact, most of the people I know could qualify.

Let me tell you about a very young, very special hero I saw this week. I know this guy fairly well after taking care of him and his family for a couple years. This hero is seven years old. He and his little sister were having physicals this week and she needed shots. He told everyone he wanted a shot. If she was going to have one, he would too. Not that any boy wants a shot but he wanted her to think a shot was nothing or was something to be desired so she wouldn’t be worried.

Turns out, he needed his last chicken pox vaccine. She, unfortunately, needed 3 vaccines to complete her course. When I came back into the room, he was sitting beside her with his shirt off and his undershirt sleeve rolled up. I told him he was getting his wish, a shot. Then I squirted him with water from a syringe and gave it to him to play later.

His sister was stricken. She hid behind her dad. So I squirted him with her shot and gave the giggling girl her syringe. Dad informed them that they could use them like water guns but that he gets to use the super soaker in response. The spell of fear was broken.

When the assistants gave the kids their shots, they were very brave. After his shot, brother told her it was ok, it didn’t hurt. She tried to be tough but it does hurt. So, after the first one, he insisted that she only needed two and begged them not to give her the third. She relaxed a little and the next two didn’t hurt so badly. Maybe partly because Noemi is good at giving shots or maybe because her heroes were in the room with her.

2/12/08

Again

2008-02-12T20:54:00.000-08:00

How many times have we started over. I am starting over again... I only wish there were cosmos in the yard instead of dirty remnants of snow drifts that refuse to melt. Despite the cold, I am starting again and I will get there!

It would be easy
to slumber until the sun is well risen
and all the pink has drained from the mountains
into the Cosmos in the back yard
To drink coffee there, among the flowers
To appease my limbs and dog with three miles
and call it adequate

But I have hitched a ride
with a friend who inspires me
and have set foot on this, my favorite trail
My eyes trained on the fool’s gold of sunrise
spreading across the smooth surface of the water
And on the strength of the mountain standing watch
And on the false nearness of the dam
All pulling me forward

My feet grind in the gravel
my quads groan softly in protest
with every up
and every down
My chest heaves as I gulp ten thousand foot air
And my belly clenches at the chafe of a pack heavy with water

My friend’s baby has learned to pull himself to standing
He wobbles there for upwards of minutes
before sinking back to the embrace of gravity
He can walk a lap around the room, giggling, if you hold his hands
He is getting in shape for the first time
instead of the thirtieth.
I wonder if his body inherently knows the reward
my body now craves
The reward that moves me from my bed
onto this trail

With every step I become stronger
I find ease and flow
And now and then I find his laughter in my mouth
wanting to throw my arms into the air at the top
as I rollercoaster over the hills

With every step I take shape
Like the fireweed that has lost its pink flowers
leaves turning yellow
that soon will orange and red into flames
that lick the forest floor but do not burn
Or the trees that reach out with wet kisses

It would be so easy
to have missed this morning
to not see the day or myself taking shape
tasting life
waking up
It is so easy
putting one foot in front of the other
if we remember that simply this is reason enough to giggle

LB
9/3/05

Another oldie

2008-02-12T20:41:00.000-08:00

I wrote this for a friend. A dear friend who questioned his place and mission on the Colorado mountaintops. Enjoy.

The Why of it.

You ask why you are here.
Is this not the question
we would all ask?
But for today,you are here
because this place has called you -
to walk in different gardens -
to walk in that which is frozen in this place –
to walk in the bright glare of nightfall.

You are here
to kneel at the grave of your grief
in tribute.
To complete the circle;
trying to catch your shadow
and dance on the edge of darkness;
running from
and to
the waiting arms of life.

You are here to soak your feet
in the cold runoff of melting mercy.
To climb from the depths
and reach for the stars.
And to descend to the love
that is waiting.

When you find yourself
in the raven’s blackness,
between a hardrock
and the soft underbelly
of pain and exhaustion;
when you are up against your limits;
when you have run
until the pyre has burned itself out,
You will find the healing hand
of the mountains.

And the Why
of being here
will no longer be important.

7/10/05

An Old one for Alexis

2008-02-07T22:01:00.000-08:00

"First you have to get over yourself, then you can practice medicine."
Scot Sickbert

I measure you,
milligram by milligram,
and parse out your day
in therapeutic doses.

You are tied fast
by the sinews of old age.
Held down by the luggage of old memories
and caged by the call light,
and bed alarm

You,
who once danced,
who once suckled babies,
and drank in the scent of summer rain.
You,
who grew daisies,
who perfected lofty biscuits
and hummed to big band.

Your days slip by
like paper boats;
propelled by the trickle
of rainwater running in the street.
And no matter what I do,
this life
runs
out.

7/15/03

Smiles

2008-02-07T21:54:00.001-08:00

The back of a dirty stepvan that says "XOXOX"
Warm buttered muffins special delivery from the Pacific Northwest
A radio comentator who actually said our road infrastructure was failing because "it was built when Elvis was a star."
Cocoa nibs dipped in 62% dark chocolate
The sun shining in the window
Hot latte
3 rooms done
A bottle of wine in the mailbox with a note from a 6 month old saying his butt feels better (don't ask ;-)
Virtual Friday
A new issue of Geezerjock even if they don't call it that any more
A fabulous issue of Cooks Illustrated with soups and stews
Forecasted for temps in the upper 40s tomorrow when I'm cleaning the garage and shed
Good friends

Belly of the Buddha

2008-02-07T21:42:00.000-08:00

I've always heard that if you rub the belly of the Buddha it brings you luck. I have a friend, a very wise, very young friend. He believes in rubbing the belly of the Dolphin. Berg, who has a mountain of a heart, loves big people, kayaks, alligators, and dolphins. Berg lives in this moment.

As an adult, I tend to live in the future and in the past. The present seems to be a vehicle to get me from the past to the present. This is not good. For all the things I read on mindfulness and being present, you'd think I'd get it. But no. Mindfulness takes effort for grown ups and is natural for children.

My goal this week was to be mindful of my needs; to be gentle with myself. Despite the fact that I have a list of things to accomplish that would boggle the mind of Stephen Hawking, I needed a break. I begged for a 36 hour day... just one or two. But I have had to accomplish a lot in a short time. And then there is the need and desire for sleep.

So the week went by. I forgave myself for the lack of workouts. I grabbed the healthiest thing off the deli at Whole Paycheck last night at 9 p.m. after work. I slept at least 6 hours a night.

And now, the bulk of things are done. The brainless work is left. And I will be able to spend a couple days in the glorious softness of snow and in the arms of the most wonderful person I know.

maybe I haven't been so gentle, maybe I haven't really been mindful or given myself a break. But somehow I have rubbed the belly of the buddha enough to cross a bunch of stuff off my to do list!

Bean

2008-01-24T06:35:00.001-08:00

Missing
warm velvet
Twitching muscle
Running partner
Curious nose
Whistle pig

Thinking
Old friend
Frolic
Snowy footprints
Yellow snow
Slippery hill
Big smile

Remembering
Wet feet
Crunchy bowl
Hot bacon
Prozac
One salty kiss
Groaning sigh

Running
Half heard footsteps
Pulling uphill
Cold morning
All girls
Someone missing
Harley Bean

1/23/08

What the world needs is.... frosting

2008-01-20T19:26:00.001-08:00

A wise man I know once said, “If you are going to have a pity party, bake a cake and invite friends. When the cake is gone, the party is over. Get on with your life.”

Last week was a particularly crappy week. See post below for partial details. There were other things too, but they are no longer important, the party is over.

When I’m in a funk the worst possible thing for me to do is to stay home and wallow in it. The best thing for me to do is to spend time with Guy. The next best is to spend time with many friends. So, I stacked the cards in my favor and drove into the mountains (see earlier post on “you can’t have the blues if”).

After spending a couple hours by myself … well, with a cat who would have nothing to do with me… Guy picked me up to go meet some friends. An evening together playing with friends was just what I needed. Stack that on this morning getting in a run on the slopes with him and then meeting other dear friends for some skiing at Breckenridge and the party was long forgotten.

On the way home, I was reminded of my pity party. It seems some of the icing from the cake was strewn all the way up along my route. Everything was coated in thick, white, creaminess that looked like you could run a finger through it and have a tasty treat. The world was covered in fluff. The sky was brilliant blue with lavender around the edges. Elk and bison looked like sprinkles in the fields along the highway. I dare say they wouldn’t be too tasty as is though.

As the sun went down in the crystal clear sky, the twilight deepened and the full moon brightened. The world looks a lot different today… who needs cake.

Wind AND rain - walking the talk

2008-01-19T08:47:00.000-08:00

As a doctor, I require all my patients to have a colonoscopy at age 50, 40 if they have risk factors, to screen for colon cancer. I have found precancer in someone as young as 31… I sent him on a gut feeling. I send most of my patients to Chuck, a kind, gentle, and funny doctor whom they all end up loving. So when Chuck reminded me that I needed to begin my colonoscopies at age 40 (I was already a couple years beyond that) I did what any good doctor would do… I put it off.

This year, with a lot of prompting from my family and Guy, I made an appointment to have it done with all my other yearly maintenance appointments. First, the dentist. Then the blood work. And so on. This week was the week for the butt check.

I arranged with a good friend to drive me. She has been through this procedure, though she is much younger than I, and was delighting in knowing what I would go through… that’s what friends are for. She shared tales of spending most of the evening on the throne while her sister sat with her and entertained her. Sisters must be a great thing to have. At least I had some advanced knowledge of what would happen to my evening.

I was supposed to begin my prep at noon. Trouble is, I’m not off work at noon. Add to that my scheduled eye appointment was at 3:30. Since my “procedure” wasn’t until 3 p.m. I figured I could put off the prep a bit. So, when I got home and mixed the first glass of prep, it was 4:30. I couldn’t read the bottle because my eyes were dilated from the eye doctor. Turns out I took dose 2 instead of dose 1, the only difference being the amount so I took a little out of the dose 1 bottle too. Then I waited.

Everyone has told me tales of eruptions of volcanic proportion beginning about 10 minutes after swallowing the first sip of Fleets phosphosoda. After a day of nothing but clear liquids, I was pretty sure they would be accurate about the speed. I tried to do a few things around the house but being unable to see, I couldn’t accomplish much. Half an hour into the process, my friend called to see I things were coming out all right… I told her I hadn’t started. Evidently, I'm not nearly as FOS as she is. Finally, it hit and within 1 ½ hrs the basics of the prep were done… unfortunately, I still had two doses left to go.

These preps work by pulling water into the colon which causes everything to flush out. Needless to say, it is impossible to drink enough to keep up. Right after you take it, your body also dumps a lot of water into the belly making you wish things would go the other direction too… All in all, I would lose 5 lbs of water in the process. It is important to note that it is not a good idea to “break wind” since, in this case, wind is always accompanied by torrential rains.

I did manage a little sleep overnight and drank plenty of water before 11 a.m. My appointment was at 3 and I was to stop drinking water at 11. Think about it, I’ve lost about 5 lbs of water and then I can’t drink for 4 hrs. As soon as I arrive they are supposed to put in an IV. Do you think they can find a vein? Nope. Well, actually they did but it felt like Doug was trying to dissect it out rather than poke it with a needle. Not that Doug isn’t good at IVs but my veins roll and weren’t all that obvious. I offered to do pushups which made Doug laugh… he offered to do them with me. My friend informed him I was serious. After 3 tries, he finally found one that he could hit. I was ready to be wheeled into the room.

About that time the Marquis de Chuck arrived. I presented him with a gift… a book I had found while packing books during my prep. It was called “The Day my Butt Went Psycho.” I’m hoping he was kind and gentle since I brought him a gift… but about then, Doug gave me something in the IV and the next thing I knew I was in the recovery area with my friend beside me. She had lots of witty things to say but I was still in and out so I can pretend I didn’t hear any of it. She had my report complete with photos that prove that my head is NOT up my arse.

We stopped by Chuck’s open house at his new endoscopy center… a lovely, homey place to have someone look where no one has looked before. The event was catered and it had been nearly 48 hours since I’d had anything but clear liquids. Shrimp in phyllo cups, cheese, puff pastry with smoked salmon, and these fabulous, grilled, bacon-wrapped dates with almond and cream cheese. I know, I don’t eat bacon but I had to have a bite!

In the end it all came out fine. In fact, it’s something I highly recommend… but you don’t have to like it.

You know you are doing something right...

2008-01-16T21:19:00.000-08:00

Just over 11 years ago, I decided to change my career. Damn the torpedoes and financial solvency… I went back to school. I spent the next 6 years studying to become competent and took an oath, “do no harm.” Then, I spent 3 more years learning “on the job,” so to speak, in residency.

If “do no harm” is your objective, that seems a pretty easy goal to meet. In retrospect, it is not so easy. If “the road to hell is paved with good intentions,” the road to harm is paved with good efforts. I can honestly say, I believe I have lived up to that oath. But not doing harm is not why I went into medicine.

I have no illusions about saving the world. The world is well beyond my scope of abilities and, at present, appears to be headed away from salvation toward something quite the opposite. But as the world is careening out of control, I hoped to help a few individuals live healthy, productive lives.

When you train for medicine, part of the medical machine involves brain washing. They try to teach you that the western medicine way is THE way to health. They teach you to maintain a “professional distance” and to not get “attached” to patients. The trouble is, western medicine and a “professional distance” have nothing to do with health and everything to do with disease. As a medical student one learns to find, identify, diagnose, and manage diseases. A professional distance means that you focus on the disease, not the person in whom the disease might be raging. Success involves meeting benchmarks in a patient’s disease management. Checking off the various diagnostic criteria and medicines that constitute “standard of care” is considered “good medicine.”

I’d like to know I do a good job in all that I do. I do check those boxes, dot the I’s and cross the T’s. But that is not how I have defined my success. Up to now, I have defined it in how patients send their friends and family to see me; in how my kiddos give me hugs; and in how my patients have told me they feel better, look better, and are healthier. Between the paperwork and complaints of the unhealthy who are not improving as quickly as they like, these rewards are huge. That little thank you note or that big hug mean so much.

A few months ago, I decided to make a huge change in my life. I am leaving this practice where I have been caring for (and getting attached to) people, real people not patients, for about 4 ½ years (2 ½ officially). This week, I began telling everyone I was leaving. I have only told a tiny fraction of my patients. None of them have started singing.

I remember old myths about how when you save someone’s life they are beholden to you forever. I see it the other way around. When I find something that might save someone’s life, they become important to me and I am very attached to them. It is those people who will be the hardest to let go.

One person who falls into that realm told me that his family would just have to move to the same town. Another came in today for follow up. She is very important to me. Her daughter is the most elegant woman I’ve ever seen… I have come to realize that her inner beauty is even more vast that the beauty on the outside… she got it from her mother. The whole family means a great deal to me. When I explained to them that I was leaving they were shocked, nearly speechless, and almost in tears. As I left the room at the end of the visit this elegant, elderly lady welled up with tears and said, “I love you.”

In that moment, I knew I had done something right. To hell with professional distance and standard of care. To do real medicine, to help people heal, you have to get attached and really CARE for them…you have to love them. It will be hard for me to let go of the family (all my patients) I care for so deeply. I will feel the loss of them when I am away and will still send healing thoughts. I know I will shed tears for those I care for as I have today for this dear lady. I have done something right when it heals my heart to help them.

Pow Pow Gnar Gnar

2008-01-13T20:44:00.000-08:00

“I like big dumps!” So says my nalgene water bottle and my bag of ski gear that waits patiently in the corner all week long, waiting for the weekend. Big dumps are great for skiing. This year, in Colorado, they are also great for disaster – we are having one of our biggest avalanche years ever.

For Christmas, Guy and I gave each other Avalanche Beacons and skins for our back country skis. So this weekend was about learning how to be safe in the back country. We took a 2 ½ day avalanche course from the Colorado Mountain School.

The first night was classroom work given at Rock Climb Boulder, a climbing gym in Boulder. On breaks, we could watch the climbing competition going on outside our 3rd floor room. During class, we learned about weather conditons, terrain considerations and traps, snow pack qualities, and other considerations to avoid avalanche danger in the back country. A case study of an avalanche accident put it all together. The next night we’d watch the video put together by the ski party from that accident, a sobering movie called “A dozen more turns.” It’s available on YouTube.

Saturday’s class was in Estes Park. Our little group gathered at the CMS location in Estes Park for morning indoor sessions. In the afternoon, we bundled up and ventured out to Estes park for practice finding buried avalanche beacons. There’s a technique to using them… not complicated but needs to be systematic. There’s a technique to digging out buried victims.. not complicated but… you get the idea.

We spent the evening with a few more courses and a couple videos that ranged from graphic details of the accident mentioned above to nearly ski porn with a little education thrown in for good measure. In between, relaxing with our fellow classmates and getting to know these other snow junkies. Skiiers, boarders, hikers, snow shoe trampers. Some were also ice climbers and rock climbers wanting to know how to get around the avalanche danger to reach their fave climbs.

Sunday morning we reviewed the avalanche report from the Colorado Avalanche Information Center. Very detailed reports on recent avalanche activities, weather events that affect the snow, and conditions of the snow pack itself. Very informative. http://avalanche.state.co.us/ if you are interested. Then we suited up and went back to Estes Park.

On this trip, we took snow shoes and packs with everything we’d need for the day plus a few emergency supplies. We hiked up above the lake at our starting point, across the next lakebed, and then started scouting for signs of avalanches. We passed another part of our class digging snow pits to examine the snow and climbed above them to dig a pit of our own.

While we snacked, our guide Eli demonstrated how to dig a pit. Then he taught us compression and shear tests on snow columns and what the tests told us about the snow pack. Basically, all snow tests are inconclusive… they teach you about danger in that spot (the one where you just ruined the good powder) and don’t really tell you much about what is 10 ft away. Snow science is fascinating and it does give you bits of information you might use to predict snow conditions. However, it’s hard to extrapolate and the bigger picture is often more useful.

After our first pits, we hiked up to the next lake which was crowded with hikers and very windblown. We found a deep area on the south side of the lake where a north facing wall was drifted and protected from getting much sun. We divided into groups and dug pits to repeat the testing. Digging was harder than it looked and this was relatively loose snow… nothing like the concrete you dig in if there is an avalanche. The tests were interesting and trying to do them correctly was a challenge. We covered our pits by crushing all the available good powder on that slope (we’d found it to be unstable anyway) and moved on.

Next we hiked up to Emerald lake for a final set of pits and snowpack tests. Eli pointed out the Dragon Tails Couloirs, obviously a favorite place to ski… narrow, flanked by rock ridges, and apparently deep enough with powder to be fantastic. The sun was beginning to dip below the ridges and the temps dropped about 5 degrees before we headed back down. It was good to be on the move and warming up again.

About ½ way back down to the parking area, Eli went ahead and buried beacons in the drainage below. He yelled that there had been an avalanche. We all switched our beacons to SEARCH and ran forward to find the “victims” (poor defenseless beacons buried alive in the snow). Once over the ridge we yelled to Eli, “how many victims?” “Two,” he replied. “Where were they last seen?” we asked as we followed the signals on the beacons. “In this area,” he indicated. We followed the signals, calling out our approximate distance from the buried victims. The first 3 people were pinpointing the location of one victim and the rest of us began our systematic search for the other. We found and dug out both within 4 ½ minutes.

We had another shot at finding victims over the next ridge. Victims found within 15 minutes have a 92% chance of survival depending on any trauma they might have suffered. Chances drop precipitously if they are found any later than that. We had a harder time on the second attempt, the pinpoint was a little off on the second victim. Still, a good enough time for survival.

We returned to the mountain school to gather our things and say farewell to our new friends. The class had been full of interesting and amazing people. Some, I’m sure we’ll see again. All of them I hope never need to use the skills we learned and certainly never need to be on the receiving end. A fabulous, interesting and valuable class!

Right Decisions

2008-01-08T19:54:00.000-08:00

I recently made a decision to change my life. Not a little change, more like 52 pickup with everything in my world. Well, not quite everything...

Obviously, big changes like this aren't easy to make. There are new unknowns and a lot of knowns you leave behind that you will miss. The only certainty in change is that it will be different. Everything else remains to be seen. The adventure and the excitement at something wonderful overwhelms any inertia.

Sometimes when you make a decision, you walk tentatively toward the future wondering what it will hold. At other times, you walk boldly in the direction of the new and the now with confidence.

And then there are times like now. Times when you look back with a combination of a wistful glance and a "gee I hope THAT stays behind me!" Times when that bold walk , or even excited run toward the future, is accompanied by a gale force wind behind you making it obvious that your decision is not only right, it is imperative.

In getting my things together and starting to prepare, purge, and pack, I found an old friend. His name is Wellington. He was the first teddy bear I ever had. A gift in high school from my best friend who couldn't believe I'd never had a bear. For 5 years, Wellington has patiently waited on the windowsill in my office to be noticed again. It is as if he is ready for another adventure with me. He's another funny little sign of what is right in my world.

You Can't Have the Blues If...

2008-01-06T20:57:00.001-08:00

I remember once hearing a comedian talk about how you can’t sing the blues if:
You know who both your parents are
You are a teenager (you have too long left to live)
You have a retirement plan
You live anywhere with mountains

So there I was, waking up in the mountains with a pain in my back that made it so I couldn’t walk across the room without crouching. On top of that, I barely had a voice for the 3rd day in a row. And I have an overwhelming to-do list and no time to-do it.

Guy pointed out that there was about 8 inches of fresh powder on the car and I don’t sing while I ski (at least not when anyone is in earshot). So we loaded up the car and headed to Keystone resort. Guy was to be in a clinic all day and once again, I wouldn’t get to ski with him… hadn’t all season.

I arrived and schlepped my skis to the base area. When I arrived, I found NO lift line despite 4-6 inches of pow depending on what part of the mountain you were skiing. Guy called and told me his friend Nelson was skiing with his daughter and they would welcome me to ski with them. I wasn’t sure my back or lungs would let me keep up so I told Nelson I’d do a few runs and call him.

I went directly to the second mountain where I was sure there would be less people. Sure enough, the run I chose, Ambush, was thick with fresh snow burying the awkward bumps that had been hard to ski the week before. I skiied carefully, “Control Freak” style as Annie, the Bettyfest coach, would say. I went slowly with as perfect form as I could. My back wasn’t a problem as long as I did the bumps right. My breath was short but sufficient.

I caught the lift with a lovely lady whose family was a few chairs ahead. She told me about her son, obviously proud of his skiing. She had that incredibly gentle way of speaking that makes you feel like the whole world is fragile, delicate, and innocent. Turns out she is a neonatolgist at Memorial Hospital… her whole life is all about the most fragile, delicate, and innocent beings.

I did a nice bump run and considered grabbing some lunch. Oh, one more run, the sun was coming out. And there in the lift line is the sexiest man I’ve ever seen. He invited me to ride the chair with his group. When we got to the top, Guy asked the coach if I could ski with them… “come on along.” A couple more great bump runs with the ski instructors in clinic and we headed in for lunch.

After lunch, we did several other drills that they have done ad nauseum but I have never done. I was making progress. The sun was out full force and we were thinking it might have been smart to put on sunscreen after all. The days are also getting longer so we snuck in another run before the long drive home.

No wonder you can’t have the blues in the mountains… even if you try.

Starting the year with gratitude

2008-01-03T19:40:00.000-08:00

We all get cheesy emails about how some people come and go and others change our lives forever. What appeals so much about them is the truth behind them.

2008 is a year of change for me. I guess every year is and/or has been. But this year there are many changes in the works. A new city, a new home, a new job. The deepening of an incredible love. New sports, new challenges.

In this process of transition I am thinking of the people I will leave behind. Perhaps not entirely behind but they will carry over into my life in a different way. Much like my move from Texas to Colorado where my friendships stayed strong but the interaction was different. There will be those changes with only a two-hour distance.

I will miss being able to stop by Ken and Colleen’s for a glass of wine just because a bottle is open and they have warm hugs. I will miss calling Alexis and getting her to stop by to take leftovers off my hands. But I will welcome exploring new trails with Ken and Colleen. I will welcome sharing tales of medical school with Alexis when she moves to Denver.

Then there are the other people who have come to mean so much to me. The people who come to me every day with their trials and triumphs, their pain and recovery, their dying and their new life. The most elegant woman I have ever known and her incredible mother will mean much to me always. The lovely lady who shares Maxine cartoons with me and the one who is still looking for a new laugh partner. I will miss them too. I will miss the families with their teenage drama and the ones with ambition and fire. I will miss my little ones who have healed from so much and the new ones who have barely tasted life.

Tonight I am composing a letter to those who have allowed me to care. From those who have frustrated me with sickness and neuroses to those who have invoked the deepest of love and compassion. Some have required me to remind myself over and over that they are children of God despite the fact that they didn’t know it themselves. And some have reminded me that there is good in me too.

I am grateful to every one of these people. I am grateful that they have shared their lives and have allowed me to hold that part of them in my hands and heart to nurture the life and health in them. I am thankful for every hug, every smile, and every bit of healing. I am thankful for the little ones who have given me high-fives and the ones who growl when they love you.

The best part of being a doctor is the people who heal you with their trust and belief in you.

An old post for Solstice

2007-12-22T07:39:00.000-08:00

If Earth grew old the way people do,
she would look like an early winter morning.

Brilliant yellows and reds, dusted silver grey;
purple and brown grasses bowed and aged with hoarfrost;
dark evergreen with a tinge of white,
and balding hills salted at the temples.

Even the quiet calm that comes with the wisdom of age
is amplified on cold, foggy mornings.
Reverence steals a frosty breath
as willowy grey haired ghosts loom large in the haze.

But Earth is an outrageous Crone,
wise and salty.
She rejoices in her years
and glorifies age with laughter and birdsong.

In spring, she will highlight her hair with shades of green
disguise her laugh lines in garlands of flowers
and apply blush in wisps of cloud.

In summer, Earth will stay up later than grownups;
rising early with the sun
and twirling to heavensong under the adoring gaze of the moon.

And in fall, she will costume herself in glorious color
and entertain Indian Summer on cool evenings;
and shiver, ever so gently,
until trees spread confetti on her paths

Such is the wisdom of Earth,
to be ancient, in timeless and ageless ways.

Lisa Butler 2002

Tongariro

2007-12-22T07:26:00.000-08:00

Our campsite woke foggy and hungry. Cold leftover Thai and hot showers to start the day, yum! The odd trees looked even more Seuss-like sticking above the fog. The odd colored birds added to the mystique.

As we drove south, we became aware that corrugated steel is not just a building material. It is also a decorative option, good for colorful sineage, and many more uses. In fact, even entire buidings shaped like sheep and dogs can be made from corrugated steel.

We gradually worked our way to Taupo, a moderate sized town on the eastern edge of Lake Taupo. Our goal was a hike, aka tramp, in Tongariro National Park. We checked the iSite for options after a stop at the “Super Loo,” a coin operated man/woman room. It was such a fancy coin-op bathroom it was noteworthy.

We settled on a hiking plan after only two stops, one at the Taupo iSite and another 20K down the road at Turangi. The plan involved entering the park and driving up to Whakapapa village, one of the two ski areas on the north island. We had considered a tramp called the Tongariro Crossing but it was a 7-hour, one-way hike. Alice offered to drive to meet us at the other end but we decided it was too long and would take up some of our precious time with Alice. The short walk was a 1 ½ hour loop to Waitonga falls, a 39 m waterfall.

Mt. Tongariro is a volcano in the middle of the north island. Beside it is Mt. Ngauruhoe (which I still can’t pronounce), and Mt. Ruapehu. I’m not sure when tngariro and Ngauruhoe were last active but Ruapehu last erupted in September of this year while skiiers were still on the mountain. Needless to say, the landscape was one step off lunar with lavabeds as a base. Foliage was sparse other than the beech forest along the riverbed. Ruapehu itself was still snow capped though our views of all three volcanos were limited by dense cloud cover. We did manage to get a few glimpses of the Whakapapa ski area which we mistook for Turoa, the only other ski area.

Waitonga falls was amazing. Little did we know it was just a taste of what was to come later in the trip. We came to the top of the falls first. There were rocks to walk above the falss and the view was dizzying looking at the wate dropping away. A long staicase took us to the bottom of the falls and its lovely aqua pool.

This walk was our first introduction to the trails in NZ. Their trail maintenance is incredible. Diversion berms are made with wood sides and open tops for cleaning. A trench is often dug down the side of the path or track. Stairs of one sort or another are well build on most steep area, some quite elaborate. Alice told us that workmanship in NZ is usually of this quality.

Our next stop was Okahune, the ski town below Turoa. It’s tiny and like mose NZ towns, the carpets roll up early. Shops in all but the largest cities close at 5 p.m., grocers close at 7 or 8, and eeryone else by 9. Most restaurants say they are “open late” which means they serve until 8 or 8:30 depending on how busy they are. The larger cities stay open 3-4 hours later and Auckland apparently never sleeps.

Okahune is the carrot capital of the country and has a giant carrot to prove it. Even with this tourist draw, they follow the small town rule with only bars and restaurants open after 5. We stopped for a beer and snack at a local pub. The menu for snacks was limited so we thought we’d try fish and chips and something called squid rings, which turned out to be just like those old frozen fish sticks only formed into rings. Fully loaded with grease, we rented a luxurious two-room backpacker with a double in the living room and a twin in the bedroom (odd). The sower had a wonderful rainbath showerhead AND as shower massage wand. We were high on the hog that night but after all, it was my birthday.

Alice relaxed while Guy and I went to dinner. The only place with reasonable food for a pesceveggie was a pizza joint but they had just closed the kitchen. They must have seen the dismay on my face as they considered our other options and re-opened the kitchen for us. My birthday dinner was a yummy salad and a pizza with sundried tomato, feta, and pumpkin. And odd combo but good. Alice even enjoyed the leftovers. Our grease quota was met for the next week!

Dive Tutukaka

2007-12-16T17:54:00.000-08:00

We woke to a beautiful warm day and joined the other would-be fish at Dive Tutukaka for a day of Scuba diving and snorkeling at the Poor Knights Islands. As we cruised out of the bay, the scenery was stunning! Emerald hills, aqua waters, and blue skies amazed us for an hour’s ride.

Our destination, Poor Knights, had been listed in the guidebooks as a site recommended by Jacques Cousteau as one of the best in the world. The islands were apparently named for a breakfast called Poor Knights Pudding which is something like french toast with fruit on top. The islands are uninhabited by humans but home to much exotic wildlife. The story our boat captain told is that they island is now considered sacred by the Maori. A tribe once lived on the islands but after a brutal massacre by another tribe the island was declared off-limits. Now it is home to huge lizards and giant grasshoppers.

The crew dropped anchor off Brady Point. We got the history of the islands and a dive breifing before fighting our way into wetsuits. Our group was guided by will and had 3 other members. While Guy and I dove, alice soaked up sun and snorkeled. We saw several type of fish as we filtered our way through kelp beds at the bottom.

Lunch on the boat was a bagged lunch and lots of cuppa soup. While we ate, we toured a sea cave in which a sub apparently hid undetected for months during WWII. The cave, Rico Rico, apparently was used as an amphitheatre several times for concerts as well. We cruised around parts of the islands enjoying views until we reached Cleaner Fish Bay for a second dive. This area was recently reported to have a lage sea turtle but we didn’t spot it. We were rewarded with a short-tailed stingray.

After the dive and the cruise back, we dove back down to Auckland to enjoy excellent Thai food at a restaurant Alice recommended. Then we continued driving for a few hours until several highway detours reminded us to stop for the night. There wasn’t much around so the 3 of us settled in for a cozy night in the Crib.

NZ Two weeks of adventure

2007-12-15T14:10:00.000-08:00

October and November were somewhere between a fury and a flurry of activity. Vacation came more quickly than expected and though we were READY for it, we were fairly unprepared. Our travel guides were impatiently waiting to have the covers cracked. They were stowed in the carry on as we hurriedly packed the night before, leaving little time for sleep.

The 4:00 a.m. alarm signalled the start of our trip after a few hours sleep for me and scarcely an hour for Guy. Arriving at the Denver Airport we discovered our 8 a.m. flight was cancelled, leaving us hours to wait before our departure.

Needless to say, our short eight hours to explore Vancouver BC was cut too short to actually leave the airport. Not to worry, the airport was interesting enough to keep us awake for a few more hours. It is under constuction and they have created an impressive array of glassed in pasages with life-sized, zoo-like habitat dioramas including waterponds, etc. The international section has a large saltwater aqarium with beautiful sea life.

While in the airport, we sought directions from one of the many informative people. Attempting to take out our passports and travel documents, I discovered that a truffle candy bar doesn’t do well with altitude changes. The truffle centers had all exploded from the chocolate outer portion and our books and magazines were now quite yummy. Next stop was the airport bar for a snack and beer, which morphed into dinner later. We also caught up on our viewing of extreme sports on the TV bar before boarding our flight to Auckland to hibernate all the way from winter to summer.

After sleeping most of the flight, we awakened in the Southern hemisphere. We had nearly an hour until a spectacular sunrise, so we watched the in-flight videos of what to see in New Zealand. You don’t want to plan these kinds of things too early.

Auckland was a back and forth adventure of driving across town for the rental car, a Jucy Crib, then lunch, and back to the airport to pick up Alice. First the crib: it’s a converted minivan with a small cooler/fridge, a gas cooker, and a pump sink. The bed is made of “cabinets” around the edges and a board that you can slide into the middle. Cushions cover the whole top and it’s really quite comfy. It was painted M&M Green with purple trim, cheesy quotes and ads on the outside. It was a subtle sign to the locals that we were tourons, as if driving on the wrong side of the road wasn’t warning enough.

Our first meal in New Zealand came after a little wandering around downtown Auckland trying to find a restaurant recommended by a lady on the street. The menu looked good but was more than we wanted. So we opted for a doner kebab at Istanbul Kebab stand. Scrumptious. Thus began the foodie tour of NZ.

Alice Prescott is a dear friend from medical school and residency. For some reason she didn’t find Colorado Springs quite adventurous enough and headed to New Zealand to work. She lives in Gisborne on the East coast of the North Island. Although all of NZ is beautiful, we had decided on a short tour of the North Island and a longer stint on the South. This did not allow for an 8 hr drive to Gisborne so Alice met us in Auckland. It was wonderful to see her lovely face!

Piling back in the car again we set out for several days of adventure. The first was to find the motorway north. Highways in New Zealand are much different than those in the US. Four lane highwy exists for only a few km in and out of Auckland. The rest are two-lane with scarce shoulders. They are known for twists and turns even where you expect straight roads. In the mountains they actually seem to corkscrew. One lane bridges are common even on major highways. They are marked by a sign indicating who has the right of way. Some even have railway tracks down the middle. Add to that our unfamiliarity with driving on the lef and you have a recipe for constant backseat driving and teasing. The difference is the backseat driving is appreciated. Fortunately, NZ drivers are usually patient and courteous… or at least it appears so from a neon green tourist van.

As we travelled from Auckland toward the Bay of Islnds, we marvelled at the luch green landscape. It seemed virtually every type of tree was straight out of a Dr. Seuss book. Alice was able to educate us on a few of them. The rest we still need to find on Google.

Our first stop was in Puhoi, a small town whose sign had the welcoming icon of a mand and woman (restroom). We picked up Alice’s lingo and for the rest of the trip called them “man/woman rooms.” There was a multi-sprt event going on; mtn bike, road bike, and kayak. Puhoi was the transition from bike to kayak. We watched the athletes flying through while sipping a couple NZ beers. Several beefy guys were practicing for upcoming lumberjack competitions. Just watching thei effots made our Tui and Monteiths taste even better. One last stop to the local dairy (their name for a convenience store) got us supplied with water and a delicious Moritz Chocolate brownie ice cream bar. Alice has discovered much of the best of NZ.

We continued North to Whangari (wh is pronounced F) where we stopped at an iSite. No, this is not where you load your iPod with local music… it’s an information site. Tourism is the number 2 industry in NZ, right behind farming. Apparently, 1 in 4 New Zealanders is a farmer; andother 1 in 4 is not in the country as travel to the rest of the world is a common pasttime. The other 2 million people are largely involved in tourism in one way or another. I digress.

An iSite is an information shop. Virtually every town with a popuation of >45 has one. Smaller areas have info kiosks. Staff at the iSite can tell you all the local attractions, places to stay, restaurants, and more. They can also book most of your arrangements for you. The Whangari iSite booked the next day’s adventures, gave us tips for lodging and dinner, and pointed us to a grocery to stock up.

Lodging is another great thing in NZ. Nearly every town has several Holiday Parks (campgrounds) or Backpackers (hostels). You can select from dorm accomodations to single, double, and triples with shared baths, ‘en suite” rooms which have their own bath, or “self-contained” with baths and kitchenettes (often cabins). In addition, most have areas for camper vans and tents. All have central kitchens, some with coin up barbeques and refrigerators in which you can rent a basket.

We drove northeast to the coast to Tutukaka and rented a self-contained unit before checking out the two restaurants. We selected the marina so we could sit on the deck and linger over dinner. We also located the meeting point for our first real adventure, Dive Tutukaka.

Harvest Moon

2007-09-26T21:44:00.000-07:00

My back yard is lit with the glow of the harvest moon. Now that it is here and my workweek is over, I can relax in its light... it has wreaked its havoc. But as with all things, we know "this too shall pass." And pass it has... onto a long weekend.

Even though fall is approaching, this seems to be the year of perpetual spring. Spring is the time for the budding and blooming of new things. And it seems my entire year has been filled with new things.

My first backcountry ski trip
Relearning to road bike
Relearning to mountain bike (with real mountains)
Dipping my big toe into the world of whitewater rafting
Dipping my baby toe into the world of kayaking
Learning to swim
Getting bitten by a new bug after watching Guy Tri
and now, SCUBA
with preparation for a trip to New Zealand

Life is nothing if not an adventure. Every day something new to discover. I remember telling Alexis some time back, "Do something every day that scares you." Not that this was an original thought but it is an important one. Every day, maybe not quite... but this year I'm coming pretty close. Of course, "scares you" and "excites you" are very nearly one and the same.

Fall is here... but I'm still springing into new things!

Turning Over a New Leaf

2007-09-25T07:25:00.000-07:00

Indian summer is coming to a close and autumn is beginning to fall here in Colorado. So, as the leaves change, I'm trying to make a few changes too.

All summer I've talked about riding my bike to work. Aside from a few trips to the office on my days off, it hasn't happened. So today I made the first commute and plan to do it once a week until snow flies. It's amazing how hard it is to find one, just one, day a week on which I don't have some activity that needs doing on the way to or from work, or at lunch. PT, dry cleaning, the bank, groceries, etc... they all occupy some portion of my commute on a nearly daily basis.

This morning was the first fall-like morning of the season. It dawned cloudy and 45 degrees. Since I expect to be at work late, I am hopeful that IF it rains (which we desperately need) it will do so before my commute home.

Indian Summer Poem - from the archives

2007-09-16T20:37:00.000-07:00

An Indian summer day on Ute trail
Sweat trickles down my neck
like the Shaman’s pony tail.
Aspens scatter their riches on the path,
gold coins beside the dangerous red of poison ivy
and sharp green soapbush.

I am the only warrior running this trail
to the drumbeat of gunfire across the canyon.
I weave like the moaning cedar wind
between the white and brown bones
of Ancient Ones spreading their shade above me.
Unseen except for the gaze of a white-headed Grandfather mountain
with a crescent of Grandmother moon at his shoulder.

Today I am in love with my life.
Where last night I ground my teeth
beneath the weight of the stones I carry,
here I am restored, but for a pair of shoes,
and scatter my stones, runes, among the sun warmed boulders
to change my fortunes.

In the embrace of a mountain fall,
I am lifted.
Surely it is real medicine
to be suckled on warm water and trail dust
and know the pull of mother Earth on an uphill struggle.
When my soul is so full of this day
that my legs will not carry me up one more mountain for the weight
I will rest
until tomorrow’s run.

LB
10/9/04

Color Me Wrong

2007-09-12T20:52:00.000-07:00

Color Me Wrong

I’ve always thought Thomas Kinkade paintings were wrong. That’s obviously why they are relegated to “galleries” full of Precious Moments figurines, which are equally wrong. It’s not the gooey, quaint scenes, it’s the colors and that eerie glow. Mother Nature just doesn’t use that palatte.

In the scheme of things being wrong, I was leaving my house in a state of absolute “right” this evening. The car was loaded with running gear for MY RUN tomorrow !! ;-))) !! A large bag containing ingredients for Guy’s Crazy Spicy Noodles rested expectantly on the floor. But as I turned toward the West, there was a sunset a la Kinkade. Hot pink ethereal flares glowing off the tops of the foothills against a backdrop of sun faded blue and lavender clouds. Above the layers a bright white puff with a knife edge of brilliant yellow orange. I didn’t dare look at who, or what, was driving the car beside me lest I see those huge eyes staring at me.