A Trip to the Top of Mount Saint Helens

Prologue

What makes someone stare at majestic mountains, and desire to stand on the peaks?  From where does the need come to tax muscle, ligament and bone until they all scream of quitting, only to be pushed further?  For me, the answer emerges from a desire to overcome limits and perceive myself in a manner that allows me to live a richer and fuller life.  Somewhere inside lurks a wild man who enjoys pushing the limit's edge, just to experience the head rush when fear and courage collide.  Maybe I’m a little mad. 

On clear days in Portland, Mount Saint Helens can be seen from several miles. I'd often wonder how it would feel to stand on the summit and look into its craterous remains.  I never considered the possibility of climbing Mt. St. Helens, until a couple of years ago. A friend mentioned his numerous trips to the top, and was planning to summit again that year.  After hearing his story, something stirred in me.  Yes, I would someday stand on the top of that mountain, even though on some level I feared the enormity of the task.

The Start of a Journey…

            My day began at 3AM.  With a checklist firmly in my head, I checked and rechecked my backpack, prayed and hydrated.  This is going to be a good day, coursed through my mind as I readied to meet the rest of the team that would tackle Mt. St. Helens with me.  Our team of roughnecks consisted of four members.  Our team leader was a man named Beau, a 25-year US Army veteran who, upon hearing my desire to climb Mt. St. Helens, immediately signed on to summit.  Next, was another 25-year veteran named Chad who has served with Beau for many of those years.  Together, Chad and Beau participate in a number of ultra-sport activities throughout the year.  The third member of the team was Joe.  If there is a man to admire for his diehard grit and never say quit attitude, then it’s Joe.  Joe is a 10-year Army veteran and calls himself the “walking wounded.” I didn't know at the time; Joe came even though he had a fracture in one of his legs.  What tenacity!  Of course, I was the last member of the team.

            A trip to the summit of Mt. St. Helens can be divided into 3 portions: the tree line (Climbers Bivouac), the boulder field (Monitor Ridge), and the ash field.  The team left Climbers Bivouac, the start of the trail, at 8AM.  Our spirits were high and laughter filled the air, as we quickly moved along the trail.  We stopped a few times for pictures, to hydrate, and consume trail mix and beef jerky.  The Climbers Bivouac trail is roughly 2 miles long before the 2^nd potion of the climb begins.  As the foliage cleared, what lay ahead of us was a monstrous boulder field called Monitor Ridge. 

The Boulder Field

            Monitor Ridge, a.k.a. the boulder field, gets its name from a solar powered seismograph located at 7000 feet on the mountain.  Mt. St. Helens is still an active volcano.  The ridge doesn’t require any technical climbing gear like ropes or special shoes, but it’s incredibly physical. The rocks that make up Monitor Ridge used to form the top of the mountain, many being the size of small cars and mini-vans. 

Once on the ridge, almost immediately the team splintered into two groups.  Beau and Chad moved ahead quickly, while Joe and I brought up the rear as we began the ascent.  The ridge trail is only marked by long wooden stakes that protrude from strategic spots, and is flanked by glaciers on either side of it, like a Mohawk.  At some point, I became separated from the team by being on one side of the ridge while they were on the other side and farther ahead.  Climbing the boulder field takes a lot of time, because the ridge can itself be divided into 3 portions: ‘wow,’ ‘where’s the escalator,’ and ‘almost there.’  Just when you think that you’re ‘almost there,’ you aren’t and have to keep going.  Imagine having to crawl on your hands and feet for 2 miles, while simultaneously being harassed by an enormous bubble bee.

The Tale of the Bee

`           On any trail, interactions with flies and other insects are part of being in ‘the outdoors.’  On this day, an insect that I now affectionately call Buddy was an interaction of a different kind.  The first time that Buddy appeared, he announced himself with that annoying sound you get when you’ve been buzzed at close proximity.  Just as the team cleared the tree line onto the ridge, Buddy, a bee the size of my thumb, appeared--only to harass me.

            Many times on the ridge I’d pause to rest and admire many of the wonderful views of the valley.  Any time that I took too long of a pause, Buddy would appear and do a head fly-by just to let me know that he was still around.  The first two times that he appeared, I wielded one of my trek poles like a samurai sword, lunging and parrying at something no one else seemed to see.  After a third appearance I began to understand Buddy's purpose.  I began to see Buddy more like a motivational speaker.  He was the Tony Robbins of the insect world screaming, “Get up and moooove, before I sting your azzzz!”  So, I’d move. 

The dance of ‘pause too long and get buzzed’ between Buddy and me continued for hours.  But, once the team entered the ash field portion of the climb (above 8000 feet), Buddy disappeared.  I never saw Buddy again.  I guess he knew that his job was done, and moved on to harass someone else.  Later, I asked other team members if anyone else was bothered by such a bee, and they all answered no.  Buddy, if you’re still out there, thanks for the push, pal.

I Came to Summit

            Once we were passed Monitor Ridge, the team arrived at an area thick with volcanic ash, which had the consistency of very coarse sand.  There’s no vegetation or shade in the ash field.  It was a place where all my remaining energy and strength was sapped out of me.  For every three steps forward that I took, I lost two.  1-2-3, slide.  1-2-3, slide.  My progress was slow but steady.  1-2-3, slide.

            At some point, the rest of the team took serious note of my slow progress, and offered me an out.  “There’s no shame in saying enough,” I was told, “it’s OK.  We just want to get there and back safely.  Don’t kill yourself in the process.”  I paused for a moment physically wasted, it was hard to breathe above 8000 feet, and to look at a stick that marked the top of the mountain.  I dropped my head and positioned my body toward the stick.  Buddy the bee was a source of determination.  Buddy was now gone, but not determination.

The key to successfully overcoming challenges is to acknowledge that your biggest fears are in the room, smile and greet them with a nod and say hello.  Then, grab them harshly by the throat and dismiss them!  I continued to position myself toward the stick, and then lifted my gaze to my team, shook my head and said, “I came here to summit.  I came to summit.”  My team understood, and with quiet reserve, I trudged on.  1-2-3, slide. 1-2-3, slide…

           Mt. St. Helens isn’t the tallest mountain in the world nor is its peak the tallest in the Northwest.  However, its height above ground still demands respect.  A healthy dose of respect is what replaced all of my pain and anguish as I crested the top of the mountain.  The view of the world at the top of Mt. St. Helens was breathtaking.  I was flooded with emotions of triumph and thoughts of new possibilities.  Standing there, I out stretched my arms and closed my eyes to feel the afternoon breeze. I had made it!  I had summited Mt. St. Helens on September 6^th 2012 at 5:30PM, 9.5 hours after the start.

Once More into the Breach

            Standing at the top of the mountain meant that the sky was the limit, that I was ready to dream again, refocus my energy and trust my abilities.  I was ready to…ready to… get he heck off the mountain and head home!  While ascending the mountain, my focus was ‘just get to the top.’  As the team moved to descend, my focus shifted to the descent, on an overwhelming desire for a Tropical Blizzard from Dairy Queen, and on getting more water.

            When the team left from Climbers Bivouac, each of us carried at least 3 or more liters of water on our backs.  I personally carried 3 liters in a water bladder and another 20 ounce water bottle in my pack.  My water supply wasn’t enough.  I drank way too often to sustain my supply, even after it was replenished by my team and through the kindness of strangers.  So, when we began the descent, I was completely out of water.  It’s every hiker’s nightmare scenario.

           

Lights Out

            The team moved away from the summit very fast, kicking up a lot of ash in our wake.  It only took 20 minutes to cover a distance that earlier took 2 hours.  For a moment, we thought that we’d be back at Climbers Bivouac before nightfall—that would not be.  If there is a clear view of the horizon, there is a trick to determining how much daylight remains.  Find the horizon and place your right hand, palm facing you and tucking your thumb, so the bottom edge (i.e. your pinky) is parallel with the horizon. Now in a stacking motion, move your hand up until it’s under the sun.  Each finger represents 15 minutes, so if you’re able to stack your hand 3 times under the sun, then there are 3 hours of sunlight left in the day.

            By 6 PM, we were the only hikers present on Mt. St. Helens.  For a second time, I became separated from the group and found myself completely alone on one side of the ridge.  I called out to my team several times, but heard nothing.  I'm not one to panic during the worst of times; this wasn’t an exception.  I found myself closer to one of the glaciers that remain on the mountain as the descent of the rocks continued.  Working quickly, I grabbed a rock and scraped away about 3 inches of dirty ice.  Next, I cutout a large chunk of ice and with shaking fingers, shoved it into my mouth.  At that moment, nothing ever tasted so good.  I had to imagine that it was cherry flavored snow, while spitting out small bits of rock.  Somewhat hydrated, I got up and continued on.  Eventually, Chad popped up atop some rocks, looking for me.  Together we made our way back to the rest of the team and continued our descent.

            Roughly 3 hours of sunlight remained, and the team was confidant that time was on our side.  However, later it became clear by our position on the ridge that we would lose the sun.  The sky exploded with streaks of red and orange light, and one-by-one the stars winked into view when the sun slowly dipped below the horizon. We paused briefly to put on our headlamps, looked in the direction of home, and continued moving.

            Joe was instrumental in helping me get safely off Monitor Ridge that night.  To descend the ridge on a moonless night heightened the risk of injury.  I had tripped and fallen more than nine times that night, and one of those times resulted in a twisted an ankle.  Earlier, Joe made comment that I hadn’t been very smart in how quickly and recklessly I moved down the ridge.  I listened to him because he was right.  However eager I was to get home, I had to do it safely.  I hadn’t known that Joe started our hike with a fracture in one of his legs, and eventually twisted both his ankles during the ascent.  Joe never complained about his injuries, and he managed to ascend and descend the mountain with enviable speed.  Finally after several hours, the team arrived back at the tree line.  Now, only two miles stood between the team and the parking lot.

Was that a Cougar?

            Once we relocated the trail that would lead us back to Climbers Bivouac, Beau and Joe paired up and entered the forest.  Since I was still moving slow, Chad stayed with me and illuminated obstacles and trip hazards with his light.  When a person is physically fresh and strong, two miles is a simple distance to travel.  With extreme fatigue, muscle strain, and blisters, two miles seemed to never end.  At night in the woods, there was also another hazard to consider—animals that roam the darkness in search of prey.

            Make no mistake; the animals that roam a national park are wild.  Few animals are more wild and vicious than a cougar or mountain lion.  Sometimes weighing in at over 400 pounds and measuring 8 feet in length, these animals are an impressive and scary sight.  Though sightings are rare, one of these animals have been spotted in the Mt St Helens National Forest.

            Knowing that the big cats were nocturnal hunters, it was important to remain vigilant of both their presence and poop droppings.  Every few steps I’d turn to cast light onto the trail that lay behind.  The idea was to bounce the light of my headlamp off the predator’s eyes, causing him to stop in his tracks.  In those moments, I knew that I couldn’t out run anything, so I was prepared to use my trek poles as weapons if necessary.  Ultimately, I would’ve lost a fight with a mountain lion or cougar; however, I refused to be an easy meal.

            I don’t know how many times I stopped to peer behind me. Our arrival back to the parking lot marked the end of the trail, the end of the climb, and the end to any potential threat of becoming a main course.  It was 2 AM, 18 hours from the time that the team started toward the summit of Mt. St. Helens, and it was over.

Epilogue

            At 3:30AM, I finally arrived home.  It had been  24 hours since I had slept.  I was beat up but not broken.  There were blisters on the tips of 8 toes, blisters under 4 toenails that looked like black toenails, and a very large blood blister on the sole of my right foot.  The only parts of my body that didn’t ache were my knees and back.  The 4 toenails that appeared blackened, I removed using a pair of needle nose pliers.  The remaining blisters had to be lanced with an alcohol soaked needle.  Yet, even as I worked on rehabilitating my feet and sore muscles, I couldn’t stop making plans for my next mountain expedition: Mount Hood.

The Injured Can Never Quit

The possibility of Injury tingles in the back of the mind of every athlete.  To avoid injury, we’ll use ointments, take pills, use powders, and physicians.  Injury is the athlete’s nemesis, because it digs into the core of our deepest fear…that we’re weak.  After spending time and effort building strength and fitness, the idea of being sidelined by a muscle pull or an inflamed tendon is a bit disheartening.  I’ve learned this firsthand as I’ve trained to run a 100-miler.  I’m a non-traditionally sized athlete who’s grown to love running.  I enjoy studying the science of running, and forming the determination necessary to get point-B.  Few other activities compare to the high I get from having completed at long distance trek in a pair of running shoes.  That’s why the moment that I became injured, I felt that my whole world crashed.  Injury, it seemed, was no longer a tingle in my mind, but rather, a full-blown reality.

Reject your sense of injury and the injury itself disappears. –Marcus Aurelius (Roman Emperor)

When my left knee became swollen from inflamed tendons, both walking and running became very difficult.  It felt like my knee popped out of joint and the pain was excruciating.  I tried to mask my pain when I was around my wife, but she knew something was wrong.  The biggest hint to her was in changes to my conversation.  I went from talking about running all the time and planning my next race, to complete and utter silence.  It’s taken me a long time to get up the courage to live again.  Running has given me that.  Just to start the process of really learning how to run again and in Oregon weather, took great changes in my thinking.  I felt ashamed…like a slob for not staring down the injury obstacle, before I gave it the finger and ran anyway.  Visions of a talking couch filled my head.  “Come on over and sit down,” it would say, “the remote is right here next to the sour cream, butter and chives that you can smear over your head.  What’s on the History channel right now?”  For a moment I did sit down, but something else also echoed in my head…the injured can never quit.  Before I knew it, I was back onto my feet.  The same determination that propelled me to complete distances of more than 15 miles was now telling me to rage against the dying of the light.

A few months have passed since that moment.  Within that time I’ve taken on different athletic challenges that have kept me on the path of weight loss, endurance and strength building.  Since the Northwest is the hub for everything outdoors, I’ve taken interests in kayaking and fast hiking.  However, neither of those sports is running, and therefore I’m drawn back to faire ce que j'adore  (French: perform that which I love).  Giving up on my goal to run a 100-miler isn’t an option.  I’ve learned that be injured is only an obstacle and not a stop sign, so it’s for that reason that the injured can never quit!

Cheers and keep running!

By Dorrian Rhodes

Setback to a New Direction

In life, setbacks are as common as breathing.  Therefore, we can divide ourselves into two categories: those who have experienced setbacks and those who are about to experience them.  Sometimes a setback can be a single event, and other times a setback arrives in waves resembling tough looking, leather clad, biker dudes who are ready to rumble.  No matter its appearance, a setback is never greeted with a smile and a hand shake.  In fact, there are few events that provoke the voice box to deliver a multitude of curse words like setbacks.    I must admit, my past dealings with setbacks have not gone well, but today was very different. 

The year 2011 held high hopes for me to run the Portland Marathon, yet I've experienced a setback in trying to stay healthy.  It's a known fact that runners suffer both leg and foot injuries at a higher rate than people that play other sports.  To prevent injury, I decided to have my knees adjusted...it was a mistake.  The adjustment was done properly; however, my body didn't properly respond, and running since then has been uncomfortable.  My discomfort has led to lay-offs in my normal running schedule.  Now, I could dwell on the negative experience of this setback, but there's no need.  As I make my way back to the drawing board, I do so with the knowledge that Success is somewhere wearing a bright red dress, holding a glass of blue champagne, and ready to toast to my arrival.  A setback is an obstacle, not a stop sign.  The question that we must ask after a setback back isn't 'what for,' it's 'what's next?'  See a setback as an obstacle against which you must change your stance: hit it, push it, bend it and break it. (Four Point Stance).

During ancient times, those brave people who set out to sail the open seas possessed great courage and skill.  Getting lost at sea most often meant death.  Therefore, navigation was the most coveted skill for a sailor.  The navigator used his knowledge of the stars, an understanding of the sun's path over its eclectic, and his ability to properly mark time to find the ship's approximate position.  The navigator was never alone in determining the ships path.  He would always have eager deck hands who wanted to make sure that the plotted course was correct, because they too were in the ship.  The same applies as you mark time through the ocean of life.  You must surround yourself with hands that are on your ship and eager to help you stay on course, regardless of the disappointments.  Don't fool yourself into believing that you're alone in experiencing any setback.  Loneliness is a myth given tremendous power by your belief that no one else understands your plight.  There are 6 billion people on this planet that share many of your anxieties, strengths, and weaknesses, regardless of ethnicity, culture or language.  Remember that God applies the proper spin to the forward motion of your steps.  Step back and reevaluate your position.  Fix your vision upon the distant horizon, then start moving again.

I've lived in Portland for many years, and as often as I driven around the city with Mount Hood and Mount St. Helens in view, I've never considered hiking to their summits.  It wasn't until some co-workers, who hike to the summit of Mount St. Helens each year, invited me to join the adventure that a new sense of focus came into view.  This year I will hike to the summit of Mount St. Helens.  The running setback has become an opportunity to change my stance and set a new course.  There's a new aim to my ambitions, and I access my purposeful direction every time I look to the hill as I drive by.

Finally, don't forget to dream.  Dreams speak of possibilities and give birth to visions.  Visions will speak of strategies and bring forth focus, and focus will link arms with determination leading to achievement...even if a setback arrives.

Cheers, and keep on running!

There is a breeze...

I remember once standing on the deck of a steel navy ship at sea. At that moment the engine room was a distant memory, because I felt the sun on my face and the salty air filled my nostrils. The ship was traveling in excess of 25 mph making the breeze that day very robust. I felt like Leonardo DiCaprio in the film The Titanic with his arms out stretched. I was flying, and anything that troubled me before--was gone. I took in the sights and sounds of the sea. Flying fish darted across the water like skipped pebbles. Dolphins swam ahead of the ship, weaving back and forth as if playing a friendly game of tag. Sea birds soared on the air currents above the ship. Truly, I felt like the King of world.  I smiled and closed my eyes to let the wind pat my face, until a blast from the ship's fog horn jarred me back into reality. Anytime I feel overwhelmed, I think of that moment at sea, the sights, the sounds and the breeze.

There's something about the gentle flow of a breeze that feels like a long, soft exhale.  A sensation, in the company of nice weather, where you want to sit down, put your feet up, and hum while holding a glass of iced tea.  Ancient man felt comfortable in the breeze when he first walked in its coolness with God.  Not only did God's exhale fill the lungs of man and bring him life, but it also was a symbol of care-freedom when He was present. 

The challenges of daily living can often present questions laced with a sense of frustration.  Is God with me?  Does God see or hear what I'm going through?  I'm a good person, I pay taxes, I love my family, I'm hard working and I'm honest. So, why am I going through so many bad things?  Although they're valid, these questions are a trap. They're a trap because some questions of why have answers that vary widely across belief systems, and without proper answers, they can create a platform for bitterness and anger.  Bitterness and anger form from the internalized energy of events outwardly observed and/or felt.  A lost home and/or job, financially difficulty, a divorce, a fatality of a close loved one, family in-fighting, etc., are all fires that burn externally, but become internalized because their effects carry meaning in our lives.  Some people call the internalized energy of outward pain, emotional baggage, but I call it heart-fire, because over time it can lead to congestive heart failure.  The operative word of congestive heart failure is congestive, which is when the heart is so congested with filth that it can no longer move blood.  Like any fire, heart-fire, in order to cause heart failure, must be fed so that it increases with magnitude.  The more you internalize stressful events, the bigger the fire.  The first step in preventing the build up of heart-fire lies in keeping external pain from gaining a foothold internally.  So, understanding the building blocks of fire is essential to knowing how to defeat it.

Fire, is the sublime amalgamation of three elements that, when seamlessly unified, form a fire triangle.  While the triangle remains unbroken, fire will sustain itself, and if left unconfined, will move to increase its size by lengthening each rung of the triangle.  More fuel means more heat, more heat means more oxygen -- the fire grows.  Heart-fire functions in much the same manner.  Life events that bring more pain can potentially increases the fire's size.  For some people, there is a self-sustaining quality to heart-fire because they form self-destructive behaviors that feed it.  It often has an I Love Lucy feel, like nothing is going right, and the self-perpetuated lie that things will never get better.  The method used to extinguish nature's fire is similar to the method needed to extinguish heart-fire.  It involves dismantling the fire triangle by separating its elements.   

The miracle of King Nebuchadnezzar's attempted burning of 3 governors in Babylon, lies in the conditions of the furnace at the time when they fell in.  As they stood before the king, each man was confident that even if not rescued by God, that He was still mighty, still present and in control. 
An element to the story that is often over looked is the point when the temperature of the furnace was raised to 7 times hotter.  Furnaces for making pots were typically heated to ~2000 degrees Fahrenheit.  The high temperature allows the minerals of the clay to melt together and form a hard and durable substance.  If the furnace is made too hot, then the melting process actually destroys the pot.  Now, if the temperature is raised 7 times, as it was by Nebuchadnezzar, then the temperature was ~14000 degrees Fahrenheit.  Not even the furnace would last at that temperature.  Nebuchadnezzar not only desired to destroy the governors, but also the vessel of their destruction and any confidence in God.

As they were bound and carried to the instrument of their demise, the governors didn't feel the heat of the furnace, unlike their captures, who were consumed by the flames.  Rather, when they fell into the furnace, the 3 governors initially found themselves at the feet of God, and free from the ropes that bound them.  As they rose to their feet, each man said to himself, "Hey, I'm not burning!"  It was true.  In fact, as they stood in the presence of God, the men neither acted as fuel for the fire nor felt its heat, what they felt was a cooling breeze.  God supernaturally separated the fire back into its individual elements.  Before the 3 governors were bound, God was already present in the fire.  Before the King was angry enough to increase the temperature of the furnace, God was in the flames.  As the governors stood in the furnace, the elements couldn't stand united to do them harm while God was present.  Even as Nebuchadnezzar raised the heat of the furnace by adding air and fuel, all he accomplished was providing ancient air conditioning.

If God be for you, WHO can be against you?  That premise has to be the center point of all lines of thought during peace or tragedy in order to prevent the formation of heart-fire.  The reason why we close our eyes while praying is to remove all visual  stimulation, and focus our thoughts and message to God.  When it appears as though everything around you is on fire, close your eyes and hand it all over to God. Profess your love and confidence in Him whether deliverance shows up in a nice, neat package or not at all.  Stand firmly on your hope and wait for the breeze, because if God be for you...

Cheers and keep on running!

Harder than Diamonds

What was once difficult is now easier.  A year ago I was watching a video called Spirit of the Marathon and became inspired to change my life.  What started off as walking with my daughters in tow, became walking with purpose, then running with a focus.  The focus being that I can compete in a 100 mile, 30 hour race and actually finish it.  I believe it more now than when I set a plan to achieve my goal while weighing in at over 350 pounds.  When asked why I want to run 100 miles, I usually just say for the belt buckle.  As a symbol of success, the finishers usually get a nicely crafted belt buckle, bragging rights and maybe a t-shirt or hat, but that's not really what the race is about for the practitioner.  100 mile races are about finishing what is started, self-discipline, guts and challenging what's deep inside.  Nothing challenges the mind, body and soul more than fatigue and pain.  Finishing a 100 mile race takes a 'never quit' attitude and a willingness to endure hardship regardless of its form.  It's for those reasons that I kept running, when recently challenged by black ice.

Last year, I wouldn't train outside without sunshine and warmth.  If you're a Oregonian, then you know how nut-so that sounds.  So, I spent a lot of time working out in a gym on an elliptical machine, only to be rudely awakened at race time to the fact that my training was inadequate.  Races don't take place in a gym, they are run on asphalt or trails, depending upon the type of race.  In my case, I only enter road races that are held on asphalt.  The road is unforgiving, and shows no mercy to one with weak bone density.  So, if I was serious about running, it would take a whole new gear in pit bull tenacity to get on the right path.  I would have to start running almost exclusively outside no matter the weather obstacle.  Chief among weather obstacles for me was rain.  The idea of consistent running in the rain, having water in my shoes and being soaking wet was a horribly oppressive idea.  In my blog Who Cares about the Rain... I explain my first running experience in the rain.  Now, I actually like running in the rain, and there is a new obstacle -- embracing winter training.

There are two cruel factors about winter that make it hard to train in the Portland area: cold and ice.  When coupled with rain, cold and ice can make a runner's life down right miserable.  I considered this long and hard last year.  I devoured everything that I could read about winter training during the spring and summer, and went to winter clothing clearance sales during the spring (50-75% off).  After being fully equipped, I was able to keep running while staying warm as winter set in.  Recently, the mornings in the Portland area have been near or below freezing.  Most of my running takes place in the very early A.M. hours.  It's during the A.M. when black ice is at its worst because the weather is coldest. 

The morning that I stepped onto the road with black ice, my footing felt a little unsteady, but nothing to really be concerned with.  However, about a mile or so into my run things weren't going well at all.  Every step felt as though I needed ice skates and not running shoes.  When the light from my headlamp bounced off the ice crystals embedded in the asphalt, they glittered like thousands of tiny diamonds.  The effort that it took to run was tremendous and I was quickly getting tired .  About 2 miles into a 7 mile run I came to a complete halt, and turned to walk back to my starting point, but I didn't move.  "If you stay on the path ahead of you and just keep going, no matter how hard it gets, you will succeed."  Those were the words of famous endurance runner Scott Jurek, and they were echoing in my head.  I then said to myself: ok, this is an obstacle. You never run from obstacles.  You only embrace and destroy them.  Take your time.  Shorten your stride.  Pump your arms.  Harden yourself against failure and that quitter's voice.  Become harder than these diamonds and crush them with each step.  Once again I turned, and very slowly with shorter but more frequent steps, I began to move toward mile number 3.  The farther I went the better the road conditions became.  Miles 4, 5 and 6 were smooth and uneventful.  I did it! I over came another obstacle and embraced winter training!  Then, I rounded a corner to the sight of more diamonds.  It was ok, because that day -- I was harder than diamonds.

Cheers and keep on running!

The Four Point Stance

Confession time: I've never played football from a team's perspective. No, I've neither been fitted with the armor of the game, nor charged up and down a field chasing after the ole pig skin. I've played street ball, which I think can be a bit rougher than on a field, but the idea is the same: the guy with the ball is the target until he no longer maintains it.  I'm a sports fan for sure, so one day I was watching a game of football and something visually clicked.  I watched men from opposing sides assume a position along an imaginary line marked by the football.  Their stances near the line were different depending upon their job, but in the next moment they were all called to do the same thing in unison--move. The second that the ball was snapped, men on both sides of the line moved against one another in a harmony reminiscent to Mozart's Piano Concerto number 21.  The line that once held the perfect symmetry of a man-to-man face-off was now in motion, bending and flexing.  Soon, the imaginary line that stood only moments before was gone as players broke through it,  found the quarter back, and smashed him to the ground.

As the next play unfolded, I noticed that the players responsible for breaking through the line held a different posture than those assigned to cover the outfield.  These men were in a posture called the four point stance.  The four point stance is one of strength and speed.  The stance is designed to get leverage over the obstacle in front of it, rough it up, and throw it to the ground.  The four point stance is a fighter's stance.  It's a stance that requires the performer to keep the head lifted and not charge ahead blindly.  Relating to this is easy if you've felt like life has kicked you in sensitive areas, yet you've risen to keep slugging it out against its daily challenges.  Sometimes, there are moments when stuff brings you so far down that you find yourself on your hands and knees, because every inch of success is so difficult to attain.  At that moment of distress, lift your head and change your posture.  Something is about to get hit.

Football is fun for me to watch, yet I can't avoid the lesson in view.  The lesson of football is this:  hit the line--push it--bent it beyond recognition--break it!  Chant it when you feel beat up.  Hit it, push it, bent it, break it! Hit it, push it, bent it, break it!  When you feel like things are unfair and giving up seems like an option.  Hit it, push it, bent it, break it!  Hit it, push it, bent it, break it!  There is nothing that can stop a focused mind.  Hit it, push it, bent it, break it!  Hit it, push it, bent it, break it!

Cheers, and keep on running!

Shoes? Who cares about shoes? Part 1

Before now, running long distances was never something that I had considered. I once considered people who do run extreme distances as either loony, or sports junkies. I was once such a junkie, but the passage of many years and life changing events had chiseled away at my sense of adventure in that area. Before setting off into endurance runner training, the most that I had ever ran at one time was 5 miles. In my youth, I often trained for entering the military by running in nothing but combat boots. The end results were calloused and jacked up feet, and knees that often hurt, even when I was 17. I knew nothing about running shoes, the types, make or even the construction. I thought all tennis shoes were alike unless they had cleats. Little did I know how wrong I was.

When I start something new, the first questions that I always ask are: who, what, when, where, why and how? What are my goals? How do I get started and stay motivated? Who will be my mentor or model? When will I make time to do my thing? Where do I find more information? Why am I doing this? These aren't in any particular order, but they give me fuel and direction for my destination.

I knew that I wanted to run, but the heavier a person is the potentially harder it is on the body, and this would be true for me as well. Gaining the right information to resolve my impact issues remains very important. You don't learn to speak fluent Spanish by hanging out at French restaurants. So, the first thing I had to do was get around people who speak the language of running. With additional research and more questions, I've answered a majority of my concerns, and I now pound the pavement for 20-25 miles per week--I'm just slow for now.

Getting Fitted:

Believe it or not, there are people who enjoy running bare foot on city streets, pavement and anywhere that can be traveled by foot. If I step on a rock at the beach I get reduced to child like sobs and much drooling. So I say to those barefoot runs, 'more power to you.' I need a good pair of shoes, and that starts with getting fitted/evaluated for running shoes. The best thing about getting fitted for running shoes is that you get informed about how your feet move from heel to toe, and what you look like as you move. Most dedicated running shoe stores (Road Runner, Fit Right, Portland Running, etc.) have gone high tech by taking a video of your gait/pronation (the stride as you walk or run) and playing it back for you to see for analysis. Then, they have you stand on a mat to map your arch height. At the end, you should be handed a paper with the completed evaluation. The evaluation is free, and there isn't an obligation to buy shoes. If in doubt, then ask before you begin. With the evaluation in hand, you now have the information necessary to make an informed decision concerning the type of shoe that you should buy. Learn as much as possible how to identity shoe qualities without the help of a sales person. Nowadays, I always run into sales people who don't know the basics about shoe construction, but are quick to steer me to what's popular.

The Basics: Shoe Construction

The construction of every pair of shoes starts with a model called a Last. The Last is what gives a shoe its form: straight, semi-curved, or curved. If you were to have shoes made, the maker would use either a mold of your feet or a wooden model (Last) and add putty to it, so that he can account for any abnormalities of your feet. It's because of the Last that your new shoes would fit like a glove. For industrial shoemakers, there isn't any putty, and the Last is likely plastic or polymer. Industrial lasts are one size fits most. That's the reason why you have to try on several pair of shoes to get the right fit.




A shoe built from a straight(1) Last helps prevent over-pronation for severely low arches (the rolling of the foot into the inside of the ankle). A shoe with a semi-curved (2) Last is less robust than one with a straight Last, but still provides support for low arches. A shoe with a curved (3) Last is made for feet with high arches and have little to no arche support. A note to wearers of high heels: all high narrow heeled shoes are made from a curved Last. If your feet are flat or near flat, then your feet are likely killing you after wearing them for only 2-4 hrs. Note that the wider the heel, the straighter the Last used to make it, and it's therefore likely to be more comfortable. How do you I.D. the kind of Last used? Just look at the bottom of the shoe and draw an imaginary line from the heel to the toe. If the line seems curved, then it does, and that's the kind of Last that was used to make it.

There is much more to teach and learn on this subject, but this is the end to part 1. In part 2, I'll discuss the makings of a good running shoe. Most shoes can be broken down into 3 elements: the upper portion (the upper), the mid-sole, and the outer sole. All of the elements play a crucial role in determining what shoes are right for you, and why a greater portion of the running community frowns upon wearing Nikes. More on that later.

Cheers, and keep on running!

She Remembers....

Walking around the hospital where we've spent so much time, I couldn't help but realize the enormity of what we've all been through, concerning Victoria's (Tori) near drowning. How an amazing drama played out over 3 days. How Victoria had arrived at Emanuel Hospital in an ambulance and connected to a special respirator. Everything was chaos and questionable. Doctor's had done all they could do and were quietly harboring the idea that Victoria was going to die, because her body pH looked bad. In acute care room 11, the medical staff kept Tori's body chemically paralyzed and near 92 degrees, packing her with ice and using a water blanket. The sounds of a respirator, designed to push out the water that had filled Tori's lungs, shook the floor. There she laid; my daughter, my Tori, the love of my life, the child that I wanted since I was 19 years old. I was on the verge of losing her. Yet, I had accepted the idea that if I was going to bring home a dead child, then I would take the pain full on and redirect it into something useful--something loving--something meaningful. This story however, belongs Victoria and not me.

Some time after Tori was released to come home, I asked her what she remembered if anything. What she said next surprised me a bit. Victoria remembered struggling in the swimming pool to get air, to put her head above the water. She remembers losing the battle and falling to sleep, which is the moment when oxygen depletion caused unconsciousness. Next, she remembered being in the hospital, and the noise of the shaking respirator. At that time, I was told by the medical staff that a medication was given to Tori to promote memory loss. It was an effort to make her forget what had happened and what had been occurring at the time. She remembers...

Months later, Kim, Tori and I were walking through the hospital, after Tori had finished an outpatient rehab session. On a whim, Kim and I decided to go back and visit a nurse that was very good to us in the ICU. The nurse was surprised to see us and was floored to see how well Tori was doing. The room that Tori used to be in, room 11, was empty. Tori walked over, then into the room and threw up her hands and began to twirl. She knew that she had overcome a huge obstacle that sought to take her life, and she celebrated it. I started to get choked up, because Tori knew that she had won. I heard Rocky music for her. I saw her in a boxing ring scream with a crooked mouth, "Mommyyyy!" She is my champion: courageous, strong and determined.

As we walked out of the room, I turned to look at its number. I then turned to Tori and said, "The number on every jersey that you get from this day on will be 11." In number science (numerology), the number 11 is represented by an angel. Angels are creatures that are blessed with the ability of insight. A person wielding it will need to focus a great deal on self-mastery and perfecting their talents, skills, and abilites. As her father I understand what must be done. All my life I've felt the pull of the warrior. Aside from the warriors way that's in the bible, I've exhaustively studied both Bushido and Tsun Su's Art of War. It took a long time for me to relate the ideas of physical warfare to the warfare of the mental and spiritual. The weapons of our warfare are not carnal... My children will be prepared.

Cave, adsum. (Beware, I am here)

Don't Forget God?

One of the most misused and seemingly oversimplified adages that I hear people quote to me is 'don't forget God.' The person who says it seems to mean well, but the adage just annoys me. I know that life can get busy and one thing seems to overwhelm another, but honesty, can anyone who's actually had an experience with God or has seem Him undoubtedly change a hopeless situation, forget Him? I use the sword in the stone image to emphasize a point about the presence of God in the believer's mind. The only thing that the image doesn't effectively show is a branding iron at the end of the portion inserted. Yes, I said a branding iron. You see, for the believer, there must be a moment when you become acutely aware that you've been branded. God's name has been irrevocably inscribed onto your brain. Furthermore, the protruding end has been broken off leaving the both the brand and the partially protruding instrument in place for perpetual burning.

A scholar of the bible would ask me where I get this assertion from. Galatians 6:17 states: From henceforth let no man trouble me: for I bear in my body the marks of the Lord Jesus. The word here rendered marks, means properly the marks or brands which are pricked or burnt-in upon the body (Barnes' Notes on the Bible). For Christ these were real and very physical, but for us they are and remain very strongly spiritual.

Even if the adage implies a reminder to pray daily, rest assured that we have a line that isn't supplied by AT&T. Our connection to the Lord is eternal and unbroken. Don't mistake my meaning as to say that we don't need to pray, rather that God will continue to speak to us, at us and around us as we move through the day. The opportunities to communicate with God are innumerable. Some would have you believe that salvation is up some days and down in others. There are songs completely devoted to "don't leave me, Lord." But, by His word God can not leave us. We know this because it's emphasized at least 3x in scripture.

For now I have chosen and consecrated this house that My name may be there forever, and My eyes and My heart will be there perpetually (2Chronicles 7:16).

No man will be able to stand before you all the days of your life. Just as I have been with Moses, I will be with you; I will not fail you or forsake you (Joshua 1:5).

Keep your lives free from the love of money and be content with what you have, because God has said, "Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you (Hebrews 13:5).

For the one who strives to maintain a fresh and vibrant relationship with Christ, I don't think that forgetting God is possibe. So, if you ever have the pleasure of hearing the adage 'don't forget God' directed at you, then do as I do. Smile and simply reply, if you must, "Impossible."

Cheers and keep on running!