Thinking in the Middle of the Night

I spend valuable sleep time thinking in the middle of the night when I really ought to be catching some rest. Sure, there are other things you can do in bed - I read a lot - but sleep is high on the list of things I like to do. I'm just not very good at it. It's not due to a lack of practice. I try. I've turned into a champion power napper. Set the internal clock for 13 minutes and I'll nod off for 12 minutes and 45 seconds. Those naps aren't true sleep, though, and the brain roams at will. Some very good ideas came from those naps. Also some really bad ones but that might be from eating odd foods at lunch.

Nighttime should be restful and serene, at least according to all the mattress commercials. If the nights aren't peaceful, the pill-pushers at AstraZeneca have an answer. I've never tried a sleeping pill - given the strange way my system managed Vicoden when the doc prescribed it  (it amps me right through the roof) and the list of side effects that all these meds come with, I'll just skip the pills.

Booze doesn't work either. That's not news for most people since the health nannies have been yammering about the evils of alcohol consumption for years, including a warning that the stuff alters sleep patterns. Plus, I tried using booze - a fifth of rum, specifically - to shut down my brain when I was sixteen. Didn't work, just made me paralytic and cognizant of the fact. The next-day ramifications were also rudely unpleasant. I gave it up (partially, as I still enjoy an evening tipple) as a lost cause.

Going to sleep is not the problem. I did that well last night, slept through the puppy yipping at midnight when Donna gave her the pain meds (we have a post-surgery puppy at home to help its recovery) or the big dog whining to go out at 4AM. Yet, I know I spent hours thinking in the middle of the night. A plot line and dialogue popped in to say hello and show me where Trail of Second Chances is headed today.

The back of my head even organized my day - write early, work, presentation with the terrific folks at Windermere, more work, reinspect, pick up a radon detector, and, if I don't wimp out, run.

I also had an idea worth writing about. That's how Rose came into being. A dream that woke me up and moved me to put it on paper.

Last night, it was a blog post, something profound. The brain framed the discussion, even started doing a first write on it. I remember being excited and thinking "ooh, this can be gooood!"

You see the problem already, don't you? While my body was crashed out, the brain worked. Which is great except the act of waking up the body made me forget everything!

Which is why, rather than a profound post that could change the way you see the world, I have this post to offer.

It isn't the thinking in the middle of the night that bothers me; it's the forgetting of the thoughts that annoys the heck out of me.

Finishing Kick, Back from the Editor!

Yea! The editor has sent Finishing Kick back with some minor tweaks needed. According to the publisher, we're within a month of having the book printed and for sale. Now - back to work. As in, the writing for the current book, Trail of Second Chances, reviewing the edits on Finishing Kick, and the day job that pays all the bills at this point.

Yesterday I watched a girl run the best race of her life - and cry.

Both the girls and boys teams qualified at the District meet last week and lined up yesterday to compete against the best runners in the State of Washington at the State Cross Country Championship in Pasco, Washington. For me, it marked the end of an era. I had no children of my own racing for the first time in nearly a decade but, for a decade, we've made the trek west. We did it again yesterday.

The girls ran first, at 10:00 under a single patch of clear sky, the only one of the day. At the previous editions of the Championship, I sped from point to point to cheer on the team and, specifically, daughters. This year, I camped at the two mile mark, out past no-mans-land and cheered.

One girl suffered from a lingering cold but the team ran well, competed hard and took fourth place in the State. The race for placement was almost impossibly tight. A single point separated the second through fourth place finishes.

The boys team faired better, placing second overall with Chandler Teigen just missing the course 2B record. Given some serious competition, the record probably would have fallen. It will next year. All boys ran well, confident and aggressive and proud. And they deserved their place on the podium.

But the lasting memory that I carry away isn't the girls or boys on the podium, the freshmen running so well, or Chandler running away from the field.

It was of a single girl, a team captain, a senior, holding onto her dad and in tears, not from disappointment - at that point they didn't know the scores - but because it was over. A team that she has been a part of for four years, the relationship with a coach that she admires, the memories of the girls she competed against resolved into a single moment - and was over.

Sometimes the kids don't realize how special their teammates and their competition is. But some, a few, they indeed realize that an important marker just passed, one that can never be recalled except in memories.

I coached this young lady five years ago and the images from that time still make me smile. At least one element of her will eventually make it into a book of mine - one of my favorite memories of coaching, a little waif of a girl with steady, wise eyes and a question.

Last year, I held my daughter while she cried, and I had no words other than 'I love you' and 'I am so proud of you.' I said the same things to another daughter on her final high school race, though it took her two years to understand fully.

So yesterday, I watched athletes run with beauty and grace, with strength and heart, flying towards that finish line. For one moment, I saw a scene of beauty, family, friends, teammates, bound up in one hug and some tears.

Asotin - District Champions

Asotin girls cross country went to Plantes Ferry with a girl banged up, two recovering, and high hopes - and came home district champions. It was a crowded field and St. Johns/Endicott, their rivals all season, gave them a great race but it came down to the number five runners - Asotin's was a bit stronger than St. Johns' - and the difference was a trophy. A reminder that cross country is a team sport scored by individuals.

The Asotin boys finished third in a very close race with Tri-Cities Prep and NW Christian-Colbert. It's measure of how far Coach Tim Gundy has brought the program that the boys were disappointed. Expect them to come out at State and battle for the lead.

Congrats to both teams. See you next week in Pasco . . .

What to do with a brain of mush?

Oh boy, you know those mornings where you wake up and you can feel your brain just sitting there going "Whaaaaat, {yawn} already? ....." Hello, November 1st. The body is up, the brain will catch up later . . . hopefully. No grand overarching discussions this morning, nor will I be engaging in deep and serious contemplation as that would lead to serious nap time and I have things to get done first. Top of the list, prattle here and hope that by the time I'm done, I regain my wits - or at least half of them.

While I wait, I have some homework to get done for my class with Dean Wesley Smith - I'm taking his 'Pitches and Blurbs' class online. If you are an aspiring writer, I strongly recommend his online seminars. Lots of range to the classes and no BS. Pretty much what you need to know and understand if you intend to self-publish. Utterly essential if you plan on going with a traditional publisher. Anyway, this week's class requires putting together a Smashwords Blurb - two, actually - and we're not allowed to use material we've used before. Makes it tough but here's one I came up with based on a slightly weird idea:

Snow White . . .  a dude? When Beau Wright falls in with a commune full of women, he believes in miracles. When he discovers that none of them like men, he believes in hell. And when someone tries to knock him off and hurts the ladies instead, he vows revenge. But nothing moves in straight lines around Beau as the action bounces from hysterical to intense. Fast, funny and definitely irreverent.

The idea could be really fun to work with though I expect it to get more than slightly ribald.

Not sure that I have an unused idea suitable for class in my notebook so it's time to go visit political websites and trawl the comments for good conspiracies.