The Problem is Us

I am listening to NPR. They are talking about the current economic crisis. They sited a statistic in which they said that prior to 2000, the amount of personal debt in the US totaled to below 50% of GDP. From 2000 to 2008, the amount of personal debt rose to equal 100% of GDP. “The problem is us.” they said. While I agree and I agree in personal responsibility, I also protest that the message we continually heard from our leaders was that it was patriotic to spend. If you don’t spend, the implication was, you are un-American. I am sure there is plenty of blame to go around. Frankly, I am a little sick of it. Let’s take our lumps and start living in the solution. But while we are at it, let’s plug the leaks that allow the hedge fund managers and other top executives to live unreasonably high on the hog.

In recent months, GM has been losing $100,000,000 per day. Those upper tier executives with their bloated salaries and private planes have been asleep at the switch. So, how exactly did they earn their high salaries? I really want to know. What exactly were they being paid to do? If it was to gut their company, they were very effective and earned that obnoxiously high remuneration. The truth of it is, as a tax payer, I don’t want to give them any of my money. It looks like a bad investment to me.

America’s Pasttime

Yesterday afternoon my middle son’s baseball team played OLMC in Tempe. We won something like 18-2, I forget. But I remember being grateful the mercy rule was employed. I enjoy watching them play very much but I also am grateful when the game doesn’t go on and on.

After we got home from baseball, a trip to Safeway for The Princess’s favorite soup (she is home sick), a speeding ticket, a stop at Schlotzkey’s for my son’s dinner because we wouldn’t have time to make something before the Boy Scout meeting, and Boy Scouts, my son told me that he had an assignment to bring in today a newspaper or magazine article that had “peace” or “prayer” in the headline/title. We have a lot of magazines around here because I am a slow reader and we had several days’ worth of newspapers. But try as I might, I could not find peace or prayer. There was a lot of murder, terrorism, budget crisis, but no peace, no prayer. This saddens me.

The Real LDM Race Report

I ate right today.  That may seem like no great victory to healthy, functional eaters.  But for me, surrounded by cookies, chocolate and other temptations, it was a big deal.  It is an idea I have been toying with for months, but each day I succumb to the temptation of the M&Ms down the hall.  So why now?

The last nine miles of the marathon on Sunday gave me a lot of time to think.  Too much time.  I hurt.  Everything hurt.  I wanted to quit.  It was a real mind game as I told myself “Don’t think about your leg.  Relax your shoulders.  Think about your shoulders not your leg.”  I rather enjoy the mind over matter game of the marathon.  I like thinking about the power of the mind to overcome adversity.  And I faced plenty of adversity during those last nine miles.  I didn’t think I could finish, but I never seriously entertained the option of quitting.  I questioned why I was trying to run a marathon in every state.  (And I was at the moment running a marathon in a state I didn’t need.  I had already run three marathons in Arizona.)  And then I had a moment of clarity.

Many years ago I had a moment of clarity.  I was riding my bike up a hill in the  Shawangunk Mountains and I wanted to quit.  I was many many many pounds overweight and riding on my Schwinn Varsity.  It was tough and I didn’t think I was going to make it.  But a mantra suddenly popped into my head and my cadence kept time:  No hill is insurmountable if you just don’t quit.  Sunday I started saying the same thing as I headed up “Dutchman’s Revenge” or whatever it was they called that steep hill near mile 23.  ”No hill is insurmountable if you just don’t quit.”  I don’t think Nike is going to be adopting that slogan any time soon, but it works for me.

I forget where in the last nine miles it was that I had my moment of clarity, but here it is.  My brain said “If you want to do this, you are going to have to get serious.  You can’t phone it in any more.”  That means no more staying in bed because it is cold or I am tired.  If I have a run scheduled, I have to go make the most of it.  No more poor eating habits.  No more putting off to tomorrow what I can do today.  

I wondered why I thought running a marathon in all 50 states was a good idea.  I didn’t think I could finish.  But, I was gently reminded that I don’t have to run in all 50 states this year.  It took my friend Lyle 20 years and he sincerely inspires me.  Why do I have to run a marathon in every state?  Because it is what I have to do.  It is my dance.  I may not do it fast and it certainly won’t be perfect, but it is my calling.  ”Calling” seems to elevate running to some great quest for the betterment of humanity.  I don’t intend to do that and I know I don’t have all the answers.  I may be astounded a year from now to read the hubris in these words.  Nevertheless, I am reminded of the Jimmy Buffet song “It’s My Job.”  For whatever reason, it’s my job to run.  And I will.

Lost Dutchman Marathon Race Report

Short form: 4:05, 3rd place age group

Long form:

It was a beautiful start. Chilly, but not too bad. We hung out near camp fires with my sister and her friends, plus a bunch of other runners. Some people had run the ultra marathon the day before in the McDowell Mountains. I thought that sounded like fun – do a back to back ultra-marathon.

The first seven miles were on a hard packed dirt road. It was beautiful and the desert was uncharacteristically green. Then a little over a mile on highway 60 – I didn’t enjoy this part. The aid stations were great. Most of the aid stations appeared to be staffed by retired folks and the were tremendous. On task. Friendly. And some played oompa music on boom boxes to keep us motivated.

At around mile 17, I started to cramp up and my pace slowed considerably. I was cramping from my periformis to my Achilles on the right side and I hated it. Every time I tried to pick it up a little, it would flare. There were times when I thought I wouldn’t finish. Well, I didn’t seriously consider dropping out, but I wondered how long it would take me to finish. I only walked once to put my jacket back on because I got cold around mile 21. But it was a slow shuffle to be sure. Somewhere in the last 10K I came to believe that if I want to keep doing this, I have to get more serious.

My sister had a great run. She finished in 3:17 and won overall, first master, and first in our age group. Dad says that I can say that I came in second because losing to her doesn’t really count. I love Dad.

The finishers medal is really cool. As is the plaque I got for 3rd place. I can see why Runner’s World said this was one of the best little marathons around. Definitely worth it.

Inspiring Sports Movies

Last night Charlie came down with Croup again. It is the third time in less than 2 years. It’s funny, but waking me from a sound sleep, I don’t always put together what is wrong and what I need to do as quickly as I think I should. Last night I estimate from the moment I heard the cries until the time I had figured out what was wrong and got him in the steaming shower was less than 5 minutes. Five minutes is an eternity when it comes to airway constriction, but since he is older, he has some extra space that allows him to get air even when he thinks he isn’t. The worst part for him at this age is the panic that comes from feeling like he can’t breathe and that can actually lead to his not being able to breathe. It seems paradoxical, but it’s true. I noticed last night that when I was able to get him to calm down, things went much better.

I was tired on my run this morning, but it was good to get out there and talk to another mom who understands. My plan called for 8, but at 8 I was just hitting my stride, so I went 9. My buddy asked if I felt ready for the marathon next week and I said “Yeah. I’ve had a good week this week. I’m ready.” Now I just hope I don’t get sick. The doctor said “Be careful. He is highly contagious until he has a good night.” I am obsessively washing my hands like a raccoon.

While staying by his side today ready to hold the pan whenever he needed me to, I watched “The Express”, an inspiring sports movie about Ernie Davis, the first black winner of the Heisman Trophy. Ernie paid obvious homage to those African American athletes who had gone before him and he felt the weight of those watching him. He knew he was inspiring and that he had to be. I thought of Katherine Switzer and how glad I was that she had run the Boston Marathon so I would get to. I love inspiring sports movies. And it’s time we get one about KT Switzer.

COOL Stuff from the New York Times

Check this out. It is so cool. Be sure to hit the play button and see it change over time. This will help those visual learners! http://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2009/02/02/sports/20090202_superbowl_twitter.html