This is why America is great.

"So many things seem so completely divided right now that it can be overwhelming. And over time it’s also misleading. If you pay too much attention to what’s happening you can easily conclude that America is a rotten country. But that’s wrong! It’s not. America is still the best there is."

"Two things about America make it great. The country and its people. This is a truly beautiful place, that’s the first thing. If you’re absorbed in your phone all day it’s easy to forget that, but look around, it’s stunning! Switzerland has the Alps, Zimbabwe has Victoria Falls, but multiply that by an entire continent and you’ve got what we’ve got… America. From the islands of Puget Sound to the islands in Casco Bay, to the Rockies, the Badlands, the Upper Peninsula and the Appalachian Mountains in-between. Spend a day hiking through the Shoshone National Forrest in Wyoming, you might not see another person. How could a place so gorgeous be so empty? We’ve got a lot of those here. Wake up in Big Sur California some morning. The smell of red woods and salt air will change you. You will feel things you inherited from your ancestors, coming from places the modern world cannot touch. We are blessed to live in a place like this, more blessed than we acknowledge. No matter what the future holds, nothing can diminish the dignity of an Eastern White Pine towering above the spruce in a New England forrest. And all of it is ours to enjoy. Thank God."

"We’ve got a lot for people to enjoy it with, an awful lot. Americans are still the best people, misguided as we sometimes are. This isn’t an especially religious country anymore, but surveys on church going do not tell the whole story. Even now, most Americans know they are not really in charge of the universe. They know there is something bigger out there, bigger than all of us combined. And when you understand that, when you know in your bones how small you are, how short the ride is likely to be, you tend to treat people better. Americans do. Don’t let cable news fool you, this is a profoundly nice country. The nicest in the world. Americans are nice to children, to pets and to strangers. We give more money to charity than any other place. We tip our waiters more. There is no other country on earth that you would want to be lost in, someone will help you find your way. In America we don’t eat dogs, we rescue them. They sleep on the bed, we give them funny names, and we cry when they die. It’s a sweet country." 

"In some ways America is getting better. The music is improving and so is the food. Believe it or not we still make things here and lots of them are pretty good. That probably won’t change. Americans love innovation but they are distrustful of anyones radical plans for the future. Most people prefer incremental improvement, that’s why we’ve only had one revolution. It’s why we’ve fought off the metric system all of these years and thank heaven we have."

 

That brings me to the Fourth of July. The Fourth of July in America is great, even for those who choose not to celebrate what it's about. It’s still one of the best times of the year, in my opinion. Therefore, it’s one of the most American. America is a happy country, despite everything. Our happiness is fundamental, it’s in our founding documents, it’s in our people. And nothing can take that away.

A Little Wedding Down By The Riverside.

Saturday I married my "one in million, once in a lifetime girl".

Photo by Scott Jones

Erica is "a beautiful, caring, intelligent, and loving woman: the perfect bride."  

I walk down the isle on a perfect September afternoon to await my bride to be. We are immersed in an outdoor setting and a venue that we could only have dreamt of, surrounded by friends and family. The Spokane River greets me as I stand shoulder to shoulder with a long time friend who has graciously agreed to be our wedding day officiant. I stand watching as the music plays and those who have agreed to stand up for us slowly find their way, following the same path I have taken. The music changes and those in attendance rise. The moment has arrived. It's time to greet the Bride.

Did I mention I was nervous?

Weddings are one of the happiest events that anybody can hope to experience in their lifetime and certainly ours was all of that and more. However, as the big day approaches, many brides and grooms can start to get anxious and we certainly felt this as well. This is often referred to as premarital jitters, and is a common occurrence for couples soon to be married as they begin to focus on all the little details involved when charged with a wedding.

As we prepared for our wedding, there were times when we felt we were handling everything. It became apparent that I needed to remember that we had a support system in place that was eager to help us in any way they could and this was a team effort for our special day. Boy, did our team step up and they made all the difference in the world. (I'm not going to name names because I know I would miss someone. If you know, you know. Thank you and we love you all.)

Our wedding weekend! The day I dreamt of and planned for was upon us. I felt excited, happy and deeply in love. I expected the wedding day to be full of emotion, and thought I was prepared for a wide range of emotions. But there were multiple times when emotions arose I did not expect or at least the timing of them.

Friday night some dear friends gave us a simple but very thoughtful gift. The gift contained some glassware and a hand written note. I quickly handed the note to Erica, knowing I couldn't read it. I was overcome with emotion. Run! Over! I had no idea how close to the surface my emotions were as the tradition of this particular glassware would reveal and although I knew I would be thinking of Rollie on my wedding day, this simple act placed him with me and I felt it.

As a professional portrait photographer I have been to literally thousands of weddings. As the photographer one of the traditions I always offer the bride and groom is a first look, which are always great. The tradition is for the groom to be placed where the bride enters from behind and as the bride approaches he turns to see her for the very first time. For us, this was set up in a court yard of our hotel. With the Groomsmen standing above on the deck of one of the rooms and the bridesmaids off in the distance, Erica ask me to turn. I turned and... water works. In my head I knew our a first look would be a nice gesture, but I could have never imagined it would turn out to be as emotional as it was. As one of the bridesmaids put it "I knew you would lose your sh!t." And I did!

High Emotions? We had prepared for this day for a long time and I wanted it to be all that we had planned for and it was all that and more. I was aware my emotions could be all over the place so I had a few words in my head that I thought I would lean on when I felt emotions start to well up inside. "Smile, Be Present, Breathe." 

It didn't work.

The bride is staged inside the venue and out of sight of the guests. 

Erica had chosen the classic music Canon in D - Cello & Piano.

As the music is coming up, "Smile", "Be Present", "Breathe". The emotions are welling up. At this point I haven't seen the bride and I'm on the verge of an ugly cry. In an effort to separate myself from emotion I begin to look up in the distance, an action not lost on the entire crowd. Todd also notices and gently says "You got this". Much needed calming words.  

Todd's timing was impeccable. I center myself. Erica comes into sight, moves up the isle, I take her by the hand and I marry the women I love.

Looking back, I couldn't have imagined a more perfect day. Starting with my beautiful bride and moving out in every direction. 

And to my beautiful bride: I'll wait for you and if I should fall behind, wait for me.

Photo by Greg Gallagher

I don't believe I would have ever entertained the idea of blogging about our wedding. It just wasn't something that crossed my mind. The catalyst for this post came from multiple request to post my "speech" or thank yous. So I began to research the best way to do so. There isn't one. 

When it came time for toasts, four were given. The Best Man led it out, followed by the Maid of Honor. Next my father stepped up and then the father of the bride closed things out. These four stepped up to the mic and spoke from the heart, without notes. Mine would be different. I knew there was absolutely no way I could stay on point without notes, or in this case reading it word for words. My one regret.

Photo by Greg Gallagher

Traditionally the groom would lead out with a few very quick thank yous but that's not how it played out. I wanted the opportunity to say my thanks for all those who had gotten us to a place where we could stand and express our love in front of all those we hold dearest. So I went last and I went long. I said my thank yous and then turned to thank my bride. This is where I knew things would get dicy. I knew when I looked to her and began to speak it would be all I could do to get through it without breaking down. In my opinion, I made it through -  for the most part.

The following is the requested text of my thank yous:

Erica and I would like to thank our entire family's, our grandparents, our parents, aunts, uncles, brothers and sisters. We would like to thank them for all the guidance and support they have given us through the years, if it weren’t for each one of them we wouldn’t be standing here, right here, right now, in this moment. 

We have already heard from The Best Man, my brother Steve. Steve thank you so very much for your kind words. We love you! Jen, the Maid of Honor but more importantly Erica's sister and confidant. Thank you Jen. My Father. Thank you from both of us and the Father of the Bride. Thank you. 

I would like to thank Erica’s parents, Bobbi and Brian. Thank you for raising such a beautiful daughter both inside and out. I still can’t believe that I found someone as kind, caring, intelligent, loving, and thoughtful and I promise to continue in my care of your daughter.

Pat, I’d like thank you for...everything. Not only did you excel in raising me, but all 4 of us and you stuck with us. I admit; in my teenage years, there were a few bumps in the road. But you hung in there, you stuck with me and you continued in your unwavering guidance with caring, understanding and love. And for that, I am eternally grateful. I love you, Mom.

Dad, thank you for always believing in me and pushing me to be the better person you always knew I could be. Throughout my entire life, you have always taught me never to settle—that I should strive for the things I wanted, for greatness. Well, today, I’m happy to tell you that I got what I wanted: a beautiful, caring, intelligent, and loving woman: the perfect bride. Thank you, Dad. I love you.

To Bailey Nelson, I can’t believe you made it. I mean, really, I don’t know why anyone would travel all the way from Jacksonville, Alabama just to be see a couple old farts get married. We love you. Thanks for being here for our special day.

To my sisters, I love you. Thank you for being you. And no matter how difficult my life gets, I know that I will always have you there... just waiting to say “I told you so.” Well, guess what? Today I married my beautiful bride so you two can no longer question my why not.

I would also like to thank Todd Martin for not only being our long time friend and supporter but for being the officiant of our wedding day. Thank you! 

To Scott Jones, Thank you for coming all the way from Pittsburg to share in our day and for creating what we know will be images of a lifetime. 

And to all of you, Erica and I would like to extend to each and every one of you a very heart felt thank you. Thank you for being here, for sharing in our day. There is only one time in a Bride and Grooms entire life together where all their friends and family are under the same roof at the same time. Your being here today has provided us with just such a gift. Your presence here today is an absolute gift. Thank you for making this happen. We love you all.

And now to my beautiful bride...

A young man’s wonder filled adventure began while sitting in a small brick schoolhouse classroom which overlooks an Eastern Washington Palouse roadway. This roadway almost alone brought small town America and beyond to the attention of this young man who would day dream as he looked to reduce the worlds complexities to shirt sleeve ideas that he could comprehend. 

As he leans forward on one elbow across a wooden desk in that small classroom, he sits wondering in fact dreaming, dreaming of a girl. She doesn’t resemble any girl in particular except to the young man.

There is no way to encapsulate the image of this girl. In his mind she is magnificent. No movie, no television program, not even real life could equate what his imagination could conger up... Amazingly all those images in the mind of that young man looked a bit like you… And all of those images looked a bit like you.

Erica, I have loved you all my life. Even before I met you. Part of it wasn’t even you, part of it was just a promise of you. You have always kept that promise.

-

A very wise person once told me that yes it is true. The reason why people get married is they do in fact meet, date, fall in love and one day get married. But what makes a marriage last a lifetime is periodically throughout time the couple will fall in love over and over again.

I realize we have faced our fair share of challenges as we continue to navigated our way through the years. And I know the term “luckiest man” gets thrown around a lot but I continue in my belief that I truly am the luckiest man, because that young man in the schoolhouse has been blessed with a lifetime of falling in love with you.

Will you dance with me?

News Flash - 2020 Sucked!

I have always contended that I keep a blog mostly for myself. I let those who are willing take a peek if they so desire but I guess what this thing, this blog represents is a diary of my athletic approaches, and this diary is open to the public.

Wow! What a stinker! Flatten the curve. Social distance. Wash your hands. Wear a mask. Stay away from friends and family. In my case, don't see your parents. Cancer. Cancer care. A postponed wedding. You work in retail, whoops. And so on. And so on. And so on...

The afore mention list is a very rough outline of what my 2020 looked like. But there were additional things missing as well, one of them being racing and the motivation to train when there is no finish line. The finish line for me being the toeing of a start line.

This morning as I sit here, a local blend coffee in hand, Kai at my feet, it's cloudy, damp, 37 degrees and as with a fair amount of January mornings, there is a light fog around the area of the Spokane River and across Riverside State Park. Not exactly a morning calling me to hit the trails on the old mountain bike or to get Kai out on those very same trails for a light jog as she chases down the local squirrels and chipmunks, me with a constant eye out for one of the many deer who have taken up residence in the safety of the park. For it is these deer that can give Kai "a run for her money" as I'm not in any kind of shape for an early season interval workout and sprint across the park while screaming and cursing at the dog. With apologies to any parents with small children within ear shot of course. But anyway...

I should get out today. There is so much to be thankful for. No snow so a light ride through the park will do me all kinds of good. There is no such thing as bad weather just bad clothing. Hey, look on the bright side. It's all about perspective.There are many out there who would love to be in my situation, who would love to just be able to go for a light spin. Feel the wind in their face and soak in the beauty of a park that is literally a stones throw from my front door. A stones throw on a good day that is. My shoulder is old and a bit tired.

So 2021 is here. Happy New Year! But for me at least, the new year is not some strange Line of Demarcation, some sort of finish line if you will, it's just that, a new year. And for me it is a time to reflect, a time to celebrate wins, and a time to learn.

As mentioned, I keep this blog thingy as a diary for use in reflection. This morning I came across part of an entry from 2016 that reminded me not only of some of what I had lost in the calendar year of 2020 but it reminded me of the good that is out there as well. It is, it's still there, the good in people, the passion we hold, the desire to be better even if the measuring stick is some silly little race we like to call Ironman. 

The outtake from that July, 2016 post is as follow:

After all these years and all these races, why do I continue to sign up?

For this, I drift back to Ironman CDA 2003 and 2004 while standing on Sherman Avenue in Coeur d' Alene Idaho. I expected to see ripped, superhuman athletes pushing themselves further than any average person could ever conceive of doing, which I did.

But I also saw so much more.

I saw average people; Butchers, Bakers and Candlestick Makers, young and old, thick and thin, all accomplishing something they might have never before dreamed of. I saw athletes cheering on athletes. Bystanders cheering on total strangers, sometimes running along with an athlete they didn’t even know because he or she looked like they needed some extra support. I saw a racer, her husband walking with her, children in tow. She was bawling her eyes out because as she stated "I just can't do it and I'm letting us all down." I watched as her husband walked with her, encouraged her and gave her a gentle push only because he knew something in that moment she could no longer see. I took note of her race number so I could later check the results. She did finish - for all of them. I saw all that is good in people playing out on that one day in that one race.

Standing alone in a sea of people that had gathered on Sherman Avenue, I watch, I got chills and I cried.

Maybe it was the bigness of the Ironman, the almost-insurmountability of doing it while trying to maintain a job, or a family, or any semblance of a life. Maybe it was the dedication, not only of the athletes, but of their friends and families. The dedication evident in the signs they hold and the pride in their eyes as they recount endless stories about getting their athlete and their entire team to the start line. Proud of the fact that they were out there on the day too, as part of a team who picked up the groceries or cleaned the house or did any one of a thousand things throughout the year so their athlete could get a six hour ride or two hour run or both. Maybe it was all of this combined that had gotten them to this exact moment.

Whatever it was, it stayed with me and the next year I found myself again standing on Sherman avenue at 11:55 PM. The last hour of any Ironman always moves me. Again, I got goosebumps. Again, I cried.

Well fingers crossed, vaccine in tow, I hope we can gather again this year. I pray I am once again standing alone on Sherman Avenue in a sea of people. A crowd of people who have come to watch as dreams come true. I also look forward to getting back to a start line, back to what for me will be an old friend but with a newness. New goals, a new excitement and new PRs as I feel as though I have retired the old. 

Photo By Kelli Dahmen

So here's to old passion anew, gathering in what I would call some sort of normality and of course a trip down the aisle with my beautiful bride. That is if she will still have me, some days can be a bit touch and go. And yes, I plan to cry, not because she won't have me but because she will.

Cathedrals?

What makes a patch of land - sacred?

What makes simple spaces - hallowed?

Photo by Bootsy

Plots of earth on their own hold no meaning.

We assign their value and designate their worth, through memory and history.

Photo by Renee Guerrero

It's why we call them shrines.

It’s because there is something spiritual in the air and ground.

Something divine that stirs the soul.

It's in Penticton - 

It’s in Madison - 

Photo by Tristan Brown

In Arizona - 

Photo by Bootsy

On Sherman Avenue in Coeur d'Alene Idaho -

Photo by Kelli Dahmen

And on Alihi Drive - 

But in a sport that is different, so solitary

There is common ground to be found here in the cathedrals of this sport.

Photo By James Richman

On courses that breath with history and reverent, spirit and soul.

In a way they host our awe, hold our memories and allows us to be moved by the memory of what we might see, over what we may expect. 

Only church is church. But these events, these arenas, these cathedrals, Lord, these places can feel like home.

Cougar Football Saturday. Or Not.

This could have been, would have been, should have been the kickoff weekend for college football; Cougar football. But this just didn’t happen, not only for my beloved Cougs and all of the pac 12, amongst others. I’m up early to prepare to watch College Gameday as I would on any other first full weekend in September. Coffee is pouring from my Cougar coffee mug, my Cougar flag proudly flying from my front porch. All of this in an effort to regain some sort of normalcy. It's an effort to feel some sort of the love, lust and excitement that all things college football have to offer for me.

Today will be filled with a few games offered (along with The Kentucky Derby) minus the fan noise and marching bands. On this Cougar football free Saturday morning there is German sausage awaiting the grill, sausage farm produced just 14 miles (22.53 kilometers by car, if you drive non-stop.) away from the chosen tailgate location which lies in the shadow of Jewett Observatory. I will use this day to ponder a football season lost(?) or at a minimum a season unlike any other.

So I guess it begs the question. What do those precious few Cougar football Saturdays mean for me?

With Martin Stadium quiet today and in a year of lose, is this just another metaphor for how the world we will return to someday won't be like the one we left behind? A Cougar football Saturday is all about the noise, the energy. These two forces pull the acton on the field and the often more important Cougar football community together as one, not only in the stadium but in the green fields and parking lots that surround the stadium. It's the noise that turns Martin Stadium into a coliseum. I long to be in Martin Stadium where the noise shakes the stadium and the ground below you. This full expression of devotion, madness and love is one of life's great joys. The atmosphere is alive, it is truly electric. It is this electricity that make these Saturday afternoons on the Palouse a cornerstone of so many families social lives for what has become three and maybe one day four generations. There are times where I enjoy the gatherings in the parking lot as much or more then the game itself. I like knowing that there are always three generations of families breaking bread as if it were a communion not just a feast. I like gathering with friends I have known for years but rarely see outside of our fall pilgrimage to Pullman. 

So when I think about today there is some relief that I don't have to see how a Martin Stadium devoid of fan might make me feel. I am worried what the game will look and feel like once my Cougs do get back to the gridiron but remain hopeful that there is a room somewhere full of those smart enough to figure out how to once again play the game I love. But for now it's just breaking my heart.

Why COVID? Why?

So I've been away from triathlon a while now; a long while. The last time I raced was October 8th., 2016. In July of that year a low speed bike crash left me with a torn labrum in both shoulders. After five shoulder surgeries over the course of two and a half years the shoulders are back in working order. By the way, two and a half years of shoulder surgeries, accompanied by three years of PT left me longing for normality. Or what I perceived as my normal anyway.

Then I was handed a game changer.

One Sunday in late February of 2018 as I dressed for a morning run I began to have chest pain. As I bent down to tie my shoes I began to have what I would call significant chest pain. I wandered around the house for a few moments convinced it would clear. Now Bootsy had left a little earlier for her run so this gave me time to do what boys do, time to think it's a good idea to head out on a run to "shake it off". To rub a little dirt on it if you will. I ran the sum total of about three blocks before images of Bootsy finding me face down in a ditch started playing in my head. So I turned around, took my chest pain and went home.

Of course I didn't say anything to Bootsy about what was truly going on. Again this is what boys do, or in this case what boys don't do. The next morning I had an appointment with my PT. After spending huge volumes of time in my PT's office Mike had figured out when things other then my shoulders are ailing. I told him I had chest pain. He immediately asked me to get up off the table and head to Urgent Care. I of course balked so he then told me of a very fit local runner who had recently gone out for a run when sudden onset of chest pain during the run had him in heart surgery within the hour. I took heed and headed to Urgent Care. I of course made a few phone calls along the way.

After a few tests at Urgent Care I was sent to E.R. Now Bootsy was working out and away from her phone so as I sat in my car I text her "On the way to E.R. Please call". Full disclosure: I was scared! Like shaking scared. Can I/should I even drive myself to E.R. kind of scared. My mind was racing. When the Urgent Care doc said I needed to go to E.R. and to do it NOW, it left me in a bit of a fog and the only thing I could think was "What about Bootsy?" There was so much I needed to say. And if this thing would have gone south it could have become, so much I should have said. That's the part that shook me most, the should have's.

Tests, tests and more tests. Cardiologists, nurses, and support staff all working for a diagnoses. And I couldn't work because we didn't know.

Now it takes time for a new patient to get in to see a cardiologist and we were not willing to wait for test results for what in my opinion was way to long to see the cardiologist so we took an appointment with the physician assistant.

Bootsy and I both went for what we thought would be a meeting with physician assistant but when the cardiologist walked through the door I knew he was not there to deliver the news we were hoping for. The diagnoses was a thoracic aortic aneurysm in what is the worst possible place and it's sizable. Thank goodness Bootsy was there. My mind was immediately overwhelmed as I drifted away from the all to many details to ponder what my new normal may now look like.

My head was swimming. I wanted to get to the car so Bootsy could breakdown for me what just happened. I was on overload. As we left the cardiologists office he said "Please stop by the front. You will need to make an appointment to see a thoracic surgeon." I had no idea what this meant in that moment other then I was just told I needed to be prepared for open heart surgery.

So today I'm walking around with this thing, this thoracic aortic aneurysm. We monitor it closely but it's a large aneurism and I have been told that one day it will grow to the point where it will need to be fixed. But until then there are restriction. No contact sports of any kind and no short course racing are just a few don'ts. The stress of short course racing causes an increase in blood pressure during the period of elevated heart rate. But I can race 70.3 as long as I keep a close eye on heart rate during activity, training and racing. One of the frustrating things about the condition is the professionals will tell you what you can't do but they won't necessarily tell you what you can do. So no one is willing to say if I can get back to full iron distance training and racing. I feel that I have races left in me and multiple race venues I want to either race for the first time or return to.

So why this long winded "poor me"? Why now with all that is going on in the world? Or in this time of COVID, what is not going on? With all racing and so many other activities being cancelled across the globe it's simple, I am missing the community.

Recently in my memories on a social media platform the following video popped up. Which is how this post got started. So I watched and well....

I miss it. I miss iron distance training and racing. I miss everything that goes along with it. I miss just being out there, the fitness, and the camaraderie. In this time of COVID-19 I hardly think I'm alone in the missing it part.

Riding around our neighborhood and through Riverside State Park is both respite and torture. I love seeing people out and about, training, walking the dog or just talking to a neighbor over the fence in the back yard; it reminds me what life was like before COVID-19. But I can only imagine there are plenty of people for whom, seeing families playing in their yards, folks going for a jog or walking their dogs can send them plunging into a spiral of loneliness.

There is a bit of irony in the fact that I may have not been happy with my fitness level or lack there of before the pandemic hit, but I was enjoying things away from my fitness lifestyle and new found distractions from health concerns. But with the changes in community due to the pandemic, I too have felt some emptiness and loss of my home acutely.

Unfortunately, I am one of those who are driven by the race calendar. I need a point on the calendar to focus on, something to drive me. Without it I flounder, to say the least. It's been hard to or it has been easy not to get out. I have days where I sit on the couch in lieu of getting out and enjoying all the beauty the Pacific Northwest has to offer. As I sit I wonder how much longer can this go on? Can this continue for months - a year? No one knows.

Bootsy has been very careful in pushing me to do things that I myself would consider constructive. She continues to make suggestions almost daily but she also understands that I can sometimes step into my "walled city" so she treads lightly, as do I. When I get "the look" from her I begrudgingly realize I should "stop in my tracks for fear of walking on the minds I'd laid."

When might there be a return to normal? Who knows. Or if you do know might I suggest a trip to Vegas? Or to a virtual Vegas in this case I guess.

From battles on the front lines to social distancing from friends and family, to which in my case include my parents who lets just say aren't as young as they used to be, COVID-19 has caused a massive shake-up of our daily lives.

After second-guessing everything from hugging our loved ones to delaying travel, there is one big question that everyone is likely to think about: will we ever get back to the status quo? The answer currently is not very clear-cut.

(And no, because I did not mention "wearing a mask" it does not mean I do not believe in wearing a mask. I wear a mask. Let's just leave it at that.)

So what's next? Bootsy and I are signed up for IMCDA 70.3 rescheduled for September 6th. but honestly I don't see a path where it could be held this year. Also we have received communication from someone who works in conjunction with Ironman and he has cautioned against signing up for any Ironman races on this years schedule. Stating that in his opinion "IRONMAN is done for 2020 and possibly 2021."

If IMCDA 70.3 is a go this year, I have strong doubts I would be comfortable enough to toe the line with the current COVID trends around the nation and in North Idaho.

Bootsy and I have had discussions as to whether or not next years IMCDA is something we should take a look at. But will it even be staged next year? If Ironman St. George is canceled this year will that push IMCDA back a year? The purpose for the rotating race venues, amongst other reasons, is to serve as the North America Championship race.

Lots of "I don't knows" which may mean we are hesitant to throw down a bunch of cash on a 2021 race in hopes that things return to "normal" and we would be delivered a race day experience that is worth the price of admission.

I also would need to address health concerns. As a proud member of Team Ironheart there are avenues available to put me in touch with one of the worlds leading cardiologists as it pertains to long course racing. When I feel travel is a good option I will seek her opinion on any and all risks involved with the stress of training and racing long course at this time.

So for now everyone is forced to look at this in a different way. We can't ignore it.

My Bootsy - Your Nurse

I stood with you today. 

I stood silently next to your bed and watched you as you tried to process the devastating words, “I’m sorry. There’s no heartbeat.” 

I moved you to a room away from the cries of babies being born. 

I held you up as you labored and encouraged you when you said you couldn’t do it anymore. 

I held your hand as you delivered your beloved child. 

I spoke words of support as you did what you never thought you would have to do. 

I sat quietly with you as you held your baby for the first and last time. 

I ached for you as the tears streamed down your face in heartbreaking grief. 

I watched the Father struggle to be a part of this woman’s work and try to be strong for his partner, all the while fighting back his tears and grief. 

I captured moments some never wanted to remember, and some never wanted to forget. 

I carefully chose the tiny gown, hat and crocheted blanket lovingly knitted just for your baby - pieces that represented your heart, bruised and broken. 

I gently imprinted your love’s handprints and footprints into the soft clay plaque so you would have something tangible to remember them by. 

I did all of this with a reverence for the journey I was on with you. 

I sat on the edge of your bed as I handed you the pictures of your baby which brought on a fresh wave of tears. 

I gently handed you the death certificate for you to sign and gave you time to do the unthinkable. 

I carefully observed your face as you stared at the pen because to see it in black and white was a brutal reminder of all you lost. 

I slowly helped you into the wheelchair and took you to the entrance of the hospital - the same door you came in through with hopes and dreams. 

I saw the hesitation cross your face as you climbed into the car. Terrified to leave for all you would have to face at home, yet too painful to stay in the place where you lost something so precious. 

I hugged you and reminded you to take care of yourself; to seek the support you would need. 

After you left, I turned to make my way back into the hospital.

You didn’t see me find the nearest bathroom and lock myself inside. 

You didn’t hear my muffled crying. 

You see, I was your Nurse. 

I see you, sweet Mama. 

I see you.

Grief and loss is something that all people will experience in their lifetime. The loss may be actual or perceived and is the absence of something that was valued. Nurses may experience this personally, or they may need to be the support system for patients and their families going through grief and loss. It is the nurse's role to provide compassionate care to their patient and loved ones, and this care will be different from person-to-person. It is also important for the nurse to maintain emotional resiliency, so they are able to provide the best care for those grieving.

It is important for the nurse to assist the patient and loved ones in their coping with their grief to include anticipatory grief. Educating them on what is expected to include the stages of grief and what are some normal feelings as well as what are some resources to help adjust to this loss they are experiencing.

But who is doing this for the nurses themselves?

When you work in the NICU (Neonatal Intensive Care Unit), patient lose is part of the job. Bootsy is a NICU nurse. Part of her job is to focus on the needs of the dying and their families setting aside her own feelings in order to tend to theirs, it comes with the territory. In this, losing patients would become almost normal, the cycle of life and death, and part of her job, but in her heart of hearts she knows that it is all affecting her in ways she may not be able or willing to acknowledge.

Still, Bootsy does her duty as a nurse, comes home to tend to her family, and tries not to think about the toll that so much grief may be taking on her.

To break down is not an option, I would guess, I don't know, I'm not a nurse - a nurse in the NICU. But, on the other hand, you have to allow yourself to be human. When losing a patient gets to my nurse, she will use coworkers to vent and to lean on. I see very little of this at home. Most settings in this modern world don't encourage outward grieving. Not even between a man and his Bootsy, when he could never begin to understand the process.

So for all you do for the community, and for what you bring in making our house a home...

I see you, sweet Bootsy.

I see you.

Life With a World Class Athlete.

"Grief never ends but it changes. It's a passage not a place. Grief is not a sign of weakness nor a lack of faith. It's the price of love." - Unknown

There are many memories that seemingly sneak up on me. But as of late, his memory has been especially present, his absence painful. The fact is  - I miss him. If you choose to read the enclosed, which is from early 2011, you may learn something about me, and what we, meant to one another. Who should NOT read: people who think 3 years is too long to write about lose, love and the missing of a loved one; anyone who thinks this type of exercise would be viewed as 'living in the past' by revisiting writings from long ago; and those who believe one should simply rise from the ashes in some kind of lost love resurrection. A phoenix I've never claimed to be.

My training partner is tireless, never grumbles, never heads home early and always beats me in a sprint across the park. Born with a marathoner's heart, he can run all day. Of course I can whip him on the bike and in the pool, but I have to admit I have an unfair advantage. His little legs don't quite reach the pedals and his Siberian breeding means that he never really wanted to learn how to swim. 

When I first met Butch, he was a skinny little pup with ears and paws way to big for his fluffy little body. He quickly won me over with his piercing blue eyes and his endless puppy kisses. Watching him over the years, I have realized something: We human athletes just might have it all wrong. Our canine friends may hold the secret to health, happiness and optimal endurance training.

I have never seen anyone as excited to get up for a morning run as Butch. Being a dog, his life is pretty routine: run, eat, sleep, chew on stuff, eat, sleep and so on. But Butch bounds out of bed like there is no end to the wonderful possibilities that might be in store for the day. Like humans, dogs crave the structure of a daily routine, but in Butch's mind, every day is a potential lottery-winning day.

Dogs have an instinctual need to exercise every day; otherwise they become destructive and antisocial. I find it hard to believe that humans have evolved so much that this doesn't apply to us as well. Many of us have just become better at suppressing the instinct.

Butch treats his exercise sessions like a reward. All day he looks forward to the time when he can go running and he takes full advantage of every minute outdoors. He runs and plays hard and then he stops when he's tired. It may be simplistic, but there are worse models which to base your training program. Too often training becomes a chore rather than a reward. If only we could re-frame in our mind the idea that the track workout is really just a giant game of tag and a chance to run around outside with our friends.

If Butch had a motto, it would be, "Run long; nap often." Dogs don't have coffee or deadlines and responsibilities; their days are instead dictated by their internal clock and therefore are more in tune with their bodily needs. When Butch is tired, he doesn't grab a latte and keep plugging away. He flops on his rug and takes a nap, belly exposed and feet twitching as he dreams of chasing squirrels. It's not always feasible at the office, but if you have the choice between a quick nap and a double shot, take the nap.

If there is one thing that dogs have mastered, it is nutrition. After every run Butch diligently laps up a few ounces of H2O, in keeping with his instinctual need for hydration. And every time we return from a run, without fail he trots past his food bowl to make sure no one has secretly slipped in a treat while he was away. No one taught dogs about the glycogen window, but millions of years of "eat or be eaten" still resides in the mind of even the most complacent dog. Of course, he is not the choosiest eater, outside of what he is supposed to eat, he chows down anything that looks delicious only to barfs it up in the back yard an hour later. So perhaps we should use caution with the eat-like-a-dog example.

While many may think of dogs as impulsive, haphazard trainers, they actually demonstrate in their daily lives the components of a complete training regime: endurance, speed, agility and even mental skills.

Dogs seem to have an inexhaustible and innate optimism toward life from which human athletes could benefit. Even though he was not breed for smarts, Butch still chases after the cute whippet at the dog park. He won't ever catch her, but he never stops trying. Hierarchies exist within packs of dogs that may seem arbitrary from the outside. Sometimes the Chawawa rules over the Great Dane with an iron fist. So go chase that greyhound, even if you feel like you're more of a St. Bernard. Sometimes the race doesn't always go to the fastest dog but rather the one that just keeps on running.

This time of year I often reflect on the things, large and small, I feel are in need of change or the things that are important to me. There are times or occasions in life that ask me to ponder things such as "the hourglass turning now into the past". These occasions can pull at the fibers of who I am, even though it's part of life itself.

There are few things impacting my daily life that don't leave me with second thoughts. Trust me when I say Butch has an impact on my daily life. But he may be one of the only things that has never left me second guessing. Never! Not once! Now he has the ability to anger me, don't get me wrong. But every day as he nudges me with that wet nose or cuts me with those piercing blue eyes, everyday is better because he is around.

As Butch begins to show age, I have had to limit his long runs. About an hour best suits his body where he at one time was running as long as 2.5 hours or up to 18 miles. Seeing his bodies need to slow down pulls at my heart, but his spirit has never wavered. His endless zest for life is still intact.

In the end Butch is a dog. What I mean by that is, in the grand scheme of things his role in my life is relatively small. This has brought into focus the fact that I to often let the little things in life be over shadowed by life itself. So thank you Butch for yet another life lesson learned.

Well got to go…Someone is resting his head on my knee. It must be time to head out the door. 

I love to take photographs. While it can be hard to organize photos, it can be joy-filled to fish through them in an effort to categorize or frame them to remember those lost. I find it soothing to "see" them each time I walk past and sometimes I stop to take a closer look.

He Promised to Defend.

Today is Veterans Day. A day I choose to reflect and to honor all those who have promised to defend this great country. Each year I consider those who have "laid so costly a sacrifice upon the alter of freedom". Those who have fought and died on foreign soil while protecting my freedoms back home. But sadly enough, it never stops there.

I have many people in my life who are military veterans. My father proudly served in the US Navy. My uncle Raymond served in the Army and fought in Vietnam.

I grew up with an uncle I never really knew. Yes he was present at all the family gatherings, Christmas Eve, 4th of July picnics, those types of things. We never get to know anyone through simple presents but being present may be all he could offer, on the surface that is. Uncle Ray was in my view distant but loving. Not loving in a hug and a tassel of the hair but loving in an I've got your back kind of way. This is a love lost on a child but honored as an adult.

We all carry traits given to us by family members. Physical appearance from our parents and grandparents being an obvious one. I have many idiosyncrasies that manifest on an almost daily basis and when they do I turn around and look for my father. I wonder if a large portion of my personality can be directly linked to Ray's father, my grandfather. Which leaves me to wonder the roll Uncle Ray has always played within myself.

Raymond Dean Newman was born the fifth of six children to hard working parents in what could be considered a lower middle class home. In my mind Ray was a fun loving, hard driving kid. A Bruce Springsteen kind of upbringing. The characters in Springsteen songs not Springsteen himself. Was this only in the mind of a child one would wonder? You may have to ask my mom on that one. (Bring your Springsteen "albums" if you do.)

Enter the Vietnam War.

Ray enlisted in the Army, fought 18 months in Vietnam and after completing his tour a Raymond Newman, or a semblance there of, came home.

I would imagine most veterans of war experience, combat or none, a very long period of extended absence from comfort, security and family all while under the constant threat of attack and all the horrors of war they are then asked to live with. In my Uncle Ray's case I don't wonder about the short periods of intense violence I would think he endured, I wonder about the months and months of a slow drone of it all and a psychological beating he must have been subject to.

And then he came home. Everything was fine now right? Not really...

Ray never spoke of his experiences in Vietnam - at all. Never. Ever. Except one. It involved a cleaning lady that worked for them who proved to be North Vietnamese and what happened when a spy was exposed.

Raymond returned from a war in a time when no one said thank you and PTSD was something they were told would simply subside in time. He was one who was asked not only to fight battles in the jungles of Vietnam but back here at home as well.

Memories, images, smells, sounds, and feelings of traumatic events can "intrude" into the lives of individuals with PTSD. Sufferers may remain so captured by the memory of past horror that they have difficulty paying attention to the present. Some of those who return home just give up living. They start dying little by little and over time piece by piece.

I always admired my Uncle Ray from a distance or a distance when seen through the eyes of a child. As I have grown I see him less as "Running on the backstreet where he swore he'd live forever. Taking it on them backstreets together". I see him less as a character and more the man he truly was. But never less then a hero. I understand the word "hero" gets thrown around a lot these days but for a now adult child, this flawed and troubled human being always has been and always will be my often silent, often stoic, American hero.

So today Uncle Ray, I think of you. I reflect on the parts of you I carry in me and I say thank you for everything you gave.

"Don't Dream It's Over."

"I might become a passive stone that escapes in thinking instead of taking action." — Cynthia Kittler

I continue in the hope of getting back to an active lifestyle. To break free from a lifestyle I may not have completely chosen. This all while feeling underwhelmed by the idea of being still. Left to ponder the thought that things beyond my control may leave me on the outside looking in. When with all my heart I try to engage in the overwhelming preface: It’s not over.

I stood with others gathered at the a recent start line, a race I had long ago signed up for and choose to walk the shorter 5K instead of a half marathon DNS (Did Not Start). Here I watched as so many were living an active lifestyle. As I watched the overlying question became - What am I afraid of?

As much discomfort as my current situation and what it could mean, as much weight as I continue to put on the importance of a return to an active lifestyle and a start line of choice, as much fear as I may have of disappointing myself, I cannot continue in the belief that it is over.

Most are afraid of disappointment. I have fallen into the trap where I have told myself I’m not good at much other then what I do. I too can be terrified by change. As of late I have spent far to many hours convincing myself - it's over.

The only way I could ever be truly disappointed in myself is to not move forward, whatever it may look like. To not try. I must never fall into the belief that deep in the darkness my heart still sees everything I will never be. It's only over when I quit in the pursuit of what my heart holds.

We are all given our own path, like it or not. When that path leads to unchosen and/or uncharted waters it can allow for exploration of one's self. A period of time where everything is scrutinized. I have learned the sound of each rock and stone on this path. One of the lessons learned has been to embrace what others fear. It's very uncomfortable by the way, to examine something where in time each of us will be asked to do so. To be placed on a path of resistance or a path with far to few stones.

So the best thing I can do is to get back to a start line, whatever that may be. Even if my start line has been redefined. For in lies the truth. It may never be over as long as I choose to continue in the pursuit of what my heart desires.

"The Best Way to Get Something Done is to Begin".

When training and/or racing have been removed, what could be left to write about on a blog designed for adventures in and around triathlon? Maybe things such as weight gain, sleep loss, blood pressure, loss of fitness, alcohol consumption or middle of night reality checks of always changing mental strengths. Maybe the consideration of never getting back to racing at all or at least to a level that would be considered a success. These are the things I'm left with as I sit typing with one hand only because over the past year, in large part, one or the other arms have been in a sling and under rehabilitation. Currently my dominate hand is affected and because of this a one finger hunt and peck with what I might call my "Dumb Hand", much like almost everything in life right now because of it, takes twice as long.

Friends and acquaintances alike have asked: "How's your training? What's your next race?" To which I refuse clarifications, telling them that I'm focusing on other things in life right now, which is technically true despite a few serious omissions. Watching their confusion is selfishly far easier then hearing the insidious answer that lies between my ears. "I have been injured. It is unclear at this point but I am hoping to get back to training and racing again soon. So I don't know, maybe I will get back to racing at some point this year."

The competitive void has left me moody, frustrated and at times down right surly. Just ask Bootsy, she always speaks in honest truths instead of my oft-chosen convenient or half truths.

I am, of course, one who has decided to devote myself to a lifestyle that involves semi-regular bouts with injury. A place where you could be asked to pay dearly for the answers of your day. So being laid up as a result of multiple surgeries to both shoulders and forced by the sports gods into a bit of self-reflection could seem almost - natural, all in the effort to move past in any type of timely matter.

Training and racing provide me with more then simple fitness, they have taught me to better maintain focus on long term goals while finding safety in a world of constant risk and uncertainty. They have taught me to be mentally quiet. Training and racing have been my chosen avenue to mute emotion, while removing stimuli. They have taught me to simplify. Physical exhaustion can muffle doubt as well as certain types of fear. Whereas injury can muffle joy, inspiration and honest inward reflection. After years of finding protection from certain aspects of ones self as well as the outside world, living this lifestyle, it has felt safe. It at times has felt, what I would consider beautiful. But once removed I have felt somewhat bare. The feeling of lost in a lifestyle where the compass has been removed or at minimum distorted, is something I long to step beyond.

I long to be fit again. Fitness can provide a feeling of joy in my life that without has left me with the feeling of an unfulfilled journey. There have been times where I have felt as though I am merely a spectator in my own life. The frustration isn't in the fact that I can't achieve goals and dreams, it lies in the fact that I can't start chasing them. So maybe this is just part of my given journey, but it's a journey I must once again - guide.

I was struck by the contrast when comparing the heaviness expressed in the above portion with the lighter more goal focused arena where growth is the resounding theme, replacing suppression by circumstance.

There came a point when I realized I wanted a comeback to an iron distance start line - in the past. But how can this happen? There is only one way to do this and that would be to simply begin. Begin what I would consider a return to what was once my normalcy. 

-

While running the 2004 addition of the Portland Marathon, our first marathon, Bootsy and I were passed by a man juggling. That's right we were passed by a juggler - juggling - while running a marathon. Now juggling is impressive in an of itself but this guy ran past us at the 18th mile all while holding a conversation with a young lady which I could only surmise was his girlfriend. I hope I’m painting the picture for you here. If I were juggling while walking within the comfort of my own home, trust that all my mental faculties would be focused on not falling over something. But for this guy, the most difficult thing he was doing, was the thing he was taking for granted. I doubt I could walk and talk with the grace he exhibited while running and juggling. And the great thing is that he wasn’t trying to impress anyone. He was just trying to get to the same place as the rest of us that October day - the finish line. Perhaps he had run many marathons in the past and was looking for a new challenge. Or maybe he had lost a bet during an adult beverage fueled stop on the way home from a training run with his local running group. Or maybe it was a penitence to be payed for a girlfriend mess up. I don't know. Does it really matter?

Imagine being stressed. Now imagine being stressed while on a balance beam. See, suddenly you’re forced to put your stress aside and concentrate on keeping your teeth.

Sometimes the spectacular is cloaked in normalcy. For instance, the women I love and continue to date (I love the fact we still date) is the cutest and most adorable in the times when she isn’t trying to be. There’s something about someone just being that is fun to watch. Endearing even. 

So if normalcy is what I seek, then let us begin today, but I must remind myself that NOBODY gets through life unscathed. Nobody. Everyone has or will have a condition, disease, accident, injury or event in their lives that knocks them around a bit and sends their life spinning. It’s one of the prices we pay for the gift of living.

I should probably consider the word "normal" - "Don’t be normal. Be better than normal!" I haven’t been put into a box because of this; I just broken out of it. Armed with a unique perspective on how quickly life can change and how blessed we are to still be alive, the survivors of injury and like conditions/situations get to learn what many don’t learn until far later in life.

Live Your Dreams!

Today is the 39th running of the Ironman World Championship. Every year under the first full moon in October the best triathletes in the world gather on the shores of the Big Island at the city of Kailua-Kona. Here an odyssey of 140.6 mile will begin at 6:30 a.m. local standard time. But for each of these athletes the journey began long before they step into the blue of the Pacific, a like journey that for me began no less then a decade earlier.

One year ago I was lucky enough to stand on the pier in Kona about to go into the water to begin what would be for me, an epic journey. Every athlete that day had a story and not one of those stories the same in any way other then the distance of the race itself. But for me my journey to Kona and her start line began in the early spring/late winter of 2006 as Bootsie and I started our official training program for the 2006 addition of the Ford Ironman Coeur d'Alene. Little did I know or could have I ever imagined this would lead to the start line in Kona in the fall of 2016. As I stood there looking out over the start line and the massive crowd beyond, Bootsie by my side, I took a moment. In that moment, that exact instant, I would be moved and changed forever.

Photo by James Richman

"There is nothing in the world like this moment. Thousands in anticipation of what they will do and what they will see. Every athlete is well aware of the magnitude of the moment. They are all prepared physically now it's a mental game."

Today in Kona for over 2400 athletes their lives will change in some manner as they all pursue a dream whatever that dream may be. This event, this spectacle, this inner battle with ones self is just to great not to effect each of them in some way.

At Kailua-Kona the Ironman World Championship and her course will provide challenges for each athlete, be them mental, physical or both. That's what this course provides and that's what makes this course so special. They will want to quit during that long period of time maybe a hundred, maybe a thousand times. But for reasons known only to the athletes themselves, they will keep going, with it in them. These athletes, the athletes that make up the 2017 running of the Ironman World Championship will simply keep going. They will keep going until they reach that finish line, their finish line, be that today in Kona or where ever their dreams may take them.

So I say good luck to each of these athletes. May today be all you ever hoped it would be, all you ever dreamed. Today we watch those lucky enough to have a dream so we can watch as those dreams come true. Live your dreams!