Cold and Gloom Approach

Yep, a depressing title to the blog today. Patience.

I discovered, on accident which is the best way to learn new things, that I have many cycles to my life. In the post below, I whined about Daylight Savings Time. This, as it happens, occurs annually. Blogging allows me to take it public where only the family had to deal with it before. Happens nearly every year, right at this same time, as the days start to shorten.

The most interesting cycle occurs at the same time as DST ending; an annual evaluation and renewal. Spring in the fall, if you will. This wasn't conscious until I took some time and visited a therapist.

Me? A therapist?

Yep. Did it when I was having great gobs of success in running my own little business, winning awards and working seven days a week to catch up with demand. I was making more money than I had in my life. Had a wife and family that adored me and that I loved. And I was totally, completely miserable.

It was about this time of year that I made a management decision that something needed fixin', hunted around, and found a great lady two hours away in Spokane that I though could help. Set the appointments and made them all, about six total. I was right and she did help.

You want details? Too bad. . .

It was around this time of year that I started my first novel, Finishing Kick. Couldn't get a scene out of my head so I wrote it down and something inside cheered as it broke chains I thought could hold anything. I'll tell you the story sometime. It involves a seven year old and a spaceship . . .and being mocked.

This time last year, I started taking some classes on writing, courtesy of Dean Wesley Smith. I'm pretty sure he thinks I'm a complete pain in the butt that might . . .might . . .amount to something. I learned a ton of from him, most of it too late for the first novel, but just in time for the second.

This year, the same impulse flows in with the change of the seasons. If my count is right, I'm closing in on a half a million words written this year.

500,000. Words.

That is a heck of a lot of writing. Most of it has been on this blog and over at Inlandxc.com where I do the race reporting for the kids.

And that, my friends, is a problem.

I'm working on a novel but only in a kinda way. It needs, demands, my full attention.

I have a non-fiction book (a short one) that's 98.2% done.

Blogging interrupts much of that so . . .

I like blogging. It stays, but gets rearranged a wee bit. First, I won't be blogging nearly every day. Too much of my writing time goes to the blog, not the book. Fixable.

I'm going to keep the trail run photologs. Those are fun and I'm going to play out there any way. (Thinking of recreating a Narnia run, just for the pictures. What's a Narnia run? Ahhh, a story for later. Yeah, that's three times I've put you off.) Same thing with the interviews. I  have learned so much talking to people like Tim Tays, Rick Riley, and Jack Welch. They stay.

The same goes for the cross country blog, then track in its season. It stays because the kids love it, and someone who gives a damn should notice how hard they work.

Something has to go. And it's the content that I put up because I should write something on the blog today. A lot of it is good, some is okay, a larger portion than I'd like is drivel.

All of it is expendable.

I've going to aim for six good posts per month - four running, two interviews or book reviews. The time I recover goes to writing new words into new stories. The characters inside my head need to be free and I need to write while I can still hear their songs.

You folks that read my blog often, some of you daily, I love you guys. I hope you understand.

I told Dean, on a day where I was being especially difficult, that everything serves the story.

Everything.

Including me.

The End (of Daylight Savings Time) is Near

I don't know about you all (when I lived in a more southerly clime, that'd been y'all) but I positively hate time changes. I'm a guy that likes to follow life in a certain rhythm. Get up about the same time as the sun, go to bed with the moon, weird naturalistic practices like that. 

Those patterns assert themselves else where, too. I write best in the morning, exercise best in the afternoon. Work I can do  while there's daylight. 

It wouldn't seem as though a hour change makes such a huge difference but the evidence at this point is irrefutable. Heart attacks increase, accidents (both workplace and auto) increase, productivity declines. 

And I whine. I do it every year, though it does not change the circumstances. It does relieve a little pressure. 

This week, I'll be looking over the schedule and deciding how to adapt to the time change and to current demands on time. One of the few luxuries of self-employment is a smidge more control over how I decide to spend my time. It's one of the main perks that keeps me out of traditional employment. That, and the fact that I don't handle bureaucratic stupidity well and almost any company with more than about six people develops a bureaucracy. 

Sometimes I wonder if they're putting us on . . .

I tend to frequent LetsRun.com, which is a great site for all sorts of running information. The site has the best forum in the virtual world despite being testosterone fueled. While it attracts a certain percentage of jerks, always posting anonymously, it has a deep well of knowledge, too.

The questions posed can be thoughtful, interesting, and occasionally, inflammatory.  Or today, just flat out weird.

There is a very good chance my daughter will qualify for the upcoming state meet. However, her coaches consistently subtly undermine her confidence because they don't like her. They claim she is not very friendly to them... which is true because it is her way to protect herself from getting picked on.

I don't want drama, but if she does make it to the state meet (and the team doesn't), then I DO NOT want the coaches working with her alone for the week before the state meet. I also do not want her to have to ride over to the state meet with the coach(es). If I talked with the coaches in a straightforward fashion about this, I am pretty sure they would perceive me as being a difficult parent, and I think they would make things difficult.

What ironclad excuse could I use to meet my objective of not allowing interaction between the coach(es) and my child, and yet avoid other difficulties (like the coach trying to keep her from running at the meet)?

I really don't know what to make of this. Maybe because we have such good relationships with the parents of our kids, we don't see what happens elsewhere. Except I don't see any signs of it at any of our meets with other teams either. 

The deeper you get into this particular post, the odder it gets. 

Every coach gets the occasional odd or over-involved parent - Tim Gundy, Asotin's coach might even throw me in that category though I made him a deal - I'd train the girls out of season and deliver them to him healthy. Then I would butt out and cheer from the sidelines during the season.

I have never seen a coach that did not want his athletes to run well, so the idea of intentional sabotage hurts my head. Yet that is what the parent is stating, quite baldly.

His (possible) reason? He, the dad, was a better runner than the coach way back when and the coach is acting out of envy and pettiness.

And my thought? Is this guy for real? I can't help but feel that the guy asking the question is sitting at his computer chortling because he's having fun at everyone's expense. While, of course, besmirching coaches and making parents look like lunatics.

God, I hope we're not going to turn into Little League Baseball.

Anybody got some thoughts? Feel free to post them in the comments (if they work for you - Internet Explorer has problems with this platform.). You can email me too.

Run gently, folks. 

Visiting Mead High School

On Wednesday, I headed to Spokane, first to meet with Dori Whitford and her creative writing class. After that, I hung out in the runner/writer way until Mead High Schools cross country meet in the afternoon. A recap of the racing can be found over at InlandXC's Blog. 

A true pro at marketing would have gotten pictures of himself in front of the class. I was too busy yakking. 

Dori's creating writing class was interesting. For those that think teaching is easy, trying to hold the attention of 30-some odd teenagers can disabuse you of that notion. Fortunately, most of them were paying attention and a good sized group actually engaged and asked some very cool questions.

The questions ranged from the creative process - what do you do when you get writer's block (which I'm lucky enough to avoid for the most part) - to the process of publishing - how do you get a self-pubbed novel onto the different platforms. My favorite was "Do you have any plans for novels that don't include running?"

Yes!

As I expected, and Dori warned, some of the kids are very introverted and introspective. Since I'm that way myself, I get it, and appreciated the effort it took for some of those young men and women to ask questions. They won't understand how much I appreciated the help. this was my first presentation to a class like this and I was totally outside my comfort zone. I'm not a natural speaker and it takes major effort to get in front of people - but I love conversations and we ended up with a nice give and take. So much so that I almost ran the class out of time.

There was one young man in there that apparently reads tech manuals for HVAC equipment so we talked briefly about home inspections. My kind of kid.

After the presentation and before the meet, I went and ran the switchbacks near the school. For those interested, the pictures are a few posts below. It was a pleasant run, my first this season in long sleeves. Winter lurks.

I headed back up to a small strip mall to grab a bite to eat. The restaurant, conveniently enough, was right next to Runner's Soul North. I ducked in with a book and had a nice conversation with a young lady who had a creative writing degree and knew Rachel Toor. Very cool. I left her a copy of the book with an offer to drive up for a book signing. they had been thinking of having one with Rachel and might have us there together. I'm betting Rachel has more fans than me so I hope she doesn't mind .

It just dawned on me (it's early and I'm a pot short of coffee yet) that you may not know that Rachel Toor is the author - a good one! - of On the Road to Find Out. Her novel is very different from mine, with probably more mass appeal as it combines a coming of age story of a young lady with a new found love of running. 

I haven't met her in person yet despite the fact that we live only a couple of hours apart. Hopefully that will change soon. 

And think about buying her novel. It's an interesting read that goes in directions you don't expect.

It's okay to buy mine, too. Really, there's no reason not to do both.

Off to cover the District 7/9 2A/2B meet in Clarkston. Next weekend, it will be regionals in Pasco. If you want your book signed, track me down -any of the Asotin kids or parents can point me out - and I'll autograph your copy. 

Run gently, friends!

Mead Switchbacks

There is likely a proper name for this trail but I don't know it - I was introduced to it by Dori Whitford, the XC coach at Mead. I did a session with her creative writing class and she gave directions to the trailhead (Discovery Pass required). From the school, proceed west on Hastings Road to the first light. Turn right.  Make the very next left and angle right to the gate. That easy.

The top of the trailhead. You start at the edge of the valley with a downhill tack from the residential section.

After about half a mile of downhill running, I bottomed out in another residential section. I might have to knock off a bank or two, but I wouldn't mind living here. I need to slow down more when taking pictures.

Just. . . .wow.

There's a pretty little bridge to cross. Sidetracked by the views.

Not all the trails lead out. . . but even the dead ends are worth the backtrack.

Ended up doing a bushwhacked across the open ground. Yes, bonus miles were involved. Going off trail always puts me into bonus miles. Found a deer trail that finished in a pretty little clearing. The deer apparently like it. They left their calling cards.

Welcome to the Disruption, I hope you're enjoying the Ride

I'm heading up to meet with the kids in the creative writing class at Mead High School later this morning. I don't have a defined talk and, according to Dori Whitford who teaches the class, not all of them are aspiring writers.

No problemo.

These students are coming of age in the most disruptive technological period in history, one that started in the 1960's and has an equal number of decades to finish reordering our human society. That's under the presumption that Ebola doesn't stop us in our tracks, the Russians don't resort to nukes, and that fanatical Islam doesn't gain ascendancy among the more enlightened Muslims.

Hey, I'm a writer. I'm good at doomsday scenarios.

So the emphasis of the talk this morning will be to find the curls in the tsunami and surf them successfully.

I self-publish. That's one curl. Others design lives built around passions and simplify. That's another curl.  Dozens exist, each a small niche that leads to an exciting and fulfilling life. 

The trick is to see the curl. To do that, you have to stop fighting the wave, accept it, and flow. 

The future can be very bright. Assuming Yellowstone doesn't blow or we don't get hit by a meteorite. I like to worry about the crap I can control and there's a wave out there with my name on it. It's my job to catch it instead of getting swamped.

Linkfest

I've warned my girls against running with earbuds but JillWillRun has a nice review of a pair from Panasonic that might make me change my mind. Christmas is coming . . . 

I have a major sweet tooth that I keep under control by avoiding the bakery section and candy aisles at the store. My sweetie puts up wiith my whining about no chocolate, or cookies, or cake. Running with SD Mom has a banana split smoothie recipe that looks ripe to knock me clean off the sugar wagon but on the healthy side. There is also a giveaway. Check it out.

As I ramp up my running (and gym work) from coaching cross country, I think I'll need this. 3 Ways to Use a Foam Roller More Effectively to Treat Running Injuries

Sadly, any time there is a breakout performance in running, doping is suspected. In too many cases, it's found. Govt slams AK boss for dismissing doping problem

Got to go. Lots of good stuff at the links. All these are on my regular reading list (though Letsrun.com will bury you in information!)

Run gently, friends. 

Busy Week for Races

I'm headed up to the GSL meet hosted by Mead this Wednesday. Along the way, I have a date with a creative writing class at Mead High School. If you want your book signed, show up at the meet and I'd be delighted to sign it for you.

Saturday will be the District 7/9 Championships at Beachview Park in Clarkston. Same deal with book signings there. You just need to catch me between events - shouldn't be hard, I'm slow.

Have a great week everybody! Beautiful running weather for at least the next couple of weeks.

Idling along on a Sunday morning . . .

. . . .trying to decide what to do.

Not that I lack options or projects. With a 100 year old house, projects I got. Same thing with the businesses. Plus the kids and grandkids.

But it's Sunday morning, and not being the church-going kind of man, that leaves a small amount of uncommitted time. Once upon a time, I'd meet running buddies for a long run, but then I moved. So I reverted to my 'lone wolf' style of running, doing things on my own and, for the most part, enjoying it.

I'll probably tackle a longer run later this morning, head up to the North Asotin Creek trail and play, but that will wait.

I could write a bit (like I'm doing now but only briefly) as a problem I had with the novel fixed itself about the time my sweetie aspirated in the middle of the night. Aspiration. Exactly what I needed. She apologized for waking me; I should apologize for not being more sympathetic at 3AM, but that's what happens to writers. The brain is looking for a connection or solution so it skips the empathy stage and goes to "Aha"!

Yeah, I put the exclamation point in the wrong place. In England or Australia, it would be fine.

I also have a nice start to an article on Jack Welch. Not the GE CEO, but the guy who wrote "When Running Was Young and So Were We". Finally got a handle on it. 400 words so far, figuring it'll hit 2k - Jackdog Welch is an interesting dude. I'll work on that later today, I think.

I checked out my usual Sunday morning book blogs, over at Ace of Spades HQ (not for the faint of heart or persons more liberal but the book blog on Sundays is excellent), and at the KillZoneAuthors blog with the inestimable James Scott Bell.

Now, breakfast.

For those of you who are the church-going type, happy worshiping. For those who worship on the trails, happy running.

End of a Season

We celebrated the end of the cross country season yesterday with ice cream, cookies, and laughter. A lot of laughter.

One of the best moments of the party occurred when Maia and Carmen handed over titles. Early in their xc career, Coach Cowdrey nicknamed them Thing 1 and Thing 2. We never quite nailed down who was which, though it seems that the girls did. It also turned out to mean a lot to them and they decided to pass down the titles.

Ultimately, it turned out that Carmen was Thing 1 and Maia Thing 2. At the party, Maia went first (after rattling a list of nicknames off for everyone including coaches - Coach Cowdrey got "Coach That Only Pretends to be Mean; I got "Magic Pony.") and handed over Thing 2 to Natalie. Carmen read a short piece about what it means to be a Thing and relinquished her Thing 1-ness to Rilynn.

Natalie and Rilynn were both happy to be the new Things, version 2.0 as it were.

Maia asked if we could make this a team tradition. So did Carmen. I told them both the same thing. We don't have to.

They already did.

Back row: Natalie (Thing 2, v2.0), Sam, AJ, Asher, Wyatt, Rilynn (Thing 1, v2.0), Head Coach Steve Cowdrey, Coach Paul.

Middle row: Kyler, Mary Ann, Taylor, Joey, Ryker.

In front: Maia, the original Thing 2 (Left) and Carmen, the original Thing 1 (right.)

Picture courtesy of Suzy Cowdrey.

A Little Homesick. . .

Every once in a while  I see an image that evokes memories, which I think is a sign of getting old.

Last night, it was a picture of a place I used to climb rocks when I was a kid and it came from a Facebook post here. The nostalgic "ahhh" sighed out almost immediately, before the thinking part of the brain really recognized the setting.

The good folks at the Alice Springs Running and Walking Club getting ready for a 10K walk.

The picture that the Alice Springs Running and Walking Club put up is at Simpson's Gap. We - me, my brother, our friends - played there, and at Honeymoon Gap nearby, and a dozen other outposts along the way. We'd hike into the bush far enough to feel intrepid and do boy things, climbing rock towers, hunting lizards, and camping under the most brilliant stars you can imagine.

No one ever asks, but I can trace my love of trails and adventure to the Outback. Every once and a while, it comes back to me in a flash, today in a picture but more often when I run on rough and rocky trails, when the red hues are just right. Sometimes then, I'm still eleven or twelve, and it's all play.

Runners will never have parades

After the Seahawks totally humiliated the Denver Broncos in last year’s Superbowl, the city of Seattle held the traditional parade for the Champions. Seventy thousand people lined the streets and sparked an editorial by Heather Romano in which she lamented the fact that runners are not held in the same esteem. Marathon runners do not get parades and brass bands. The conventional thinking is that the population as a whole doesn’t understand the level of dedication that it takes for Deena Kastor to win a bronze in the Olympics, or for Meb Keflezighi to win Boston.

The conventional thinking is wrong, not because the general population doesn’t get it - it doesn’t - but, then again, it has no real idea of the level of work it takes to be a pro football player, either.

The crux of the issue lies with the way people identify themselves. Humans naturally align themselves with group (tribes is the current parlance for this effect) and cities form a easily recognizable organization. For millennia, people sent out champions to battle. Thus, it isn’t the players of the Seattle Seahawks beat the players of the Denver Broncos. Instead, Seattle beat Denver, our champions beat your champions, and the fans in both cities partook of vicarious participation.

Runners never experience this. If anything, they’re distrusted. A marathoner will be more closely tied to a shoe company, the Team Nike approach, than to a people. The exception to this are the Olympics, a quadrennial opportunity to decry the lack of effort, training, infrastructure, etc. of our athletes. If one somehow happens to win, we cheer appropriately for ten minutes and banish them back to obscurity for another four years. The rest of the time, the professional runner takes on the role of a starving artist, suffering for his or her art.

Like artists, the runner, with a few exceptions, performs solo. Relays might be a little different and cross country, but the interlocking machinery of football doesn’t generally exist in our sport. That is why, on any given day, you can spot a dozen runners out on the road. We don’t marshal the group before we head out the door if we want to run. Not that we don’t run in groups. Obviously we do, but if a running buddy tweaks an ankle and is out, the rest of us go out to cover ground anyway. Football teams are not noted for playing with only ten players on one team and they don’t play without another team to compete against.

That feature, the ability to go out and do it ourselves, defines the line that separates running from football. Very few people can play football, but are drawn to the conflict between the teams, the us versus them nature of the sport. Most of the ‘ball sports - football, basketball, baseball, the other unAmerican football (Soccer) - engage fans who would like to, but can not, play the sport. So they watch, and cheer, and show up at parades.

They’re spectators, and while they congregate for a parade, we head out the door for a run. That’s why we won’t ever see a mass parade for a running champion. Our community, our tribe, isn’t built on city identification and champions. We participate and step into the ring ourselves. Our community, the running tribe, runs.

We do have mass celebrations, and you might call it a parade.

We call it a ‘race’.

Run gently, friends.

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In the interests of disclosure, I never ran cross country. I played football instead for four years, and threw discus in track season.