Tuesday, August 29, 2017
Seven Sentence Story
The teacher was running late after shooting posted signs on the back road while driving to school. He was short of breath as he piled out of his truck, the gun smoke clinging to his clothes. He shut the door at exactly 8:00 am and was nervous all day. During his planning period, he thought maybe he should shoot after work not before. Too many people drive the back roads that time of day. He was lost in thought when Principal Rake stormed into his classroom.
Six or Seven
I ran across Blog Nation a while back. This is a website that categorizes and catalogs blogs of maybe any grouping you could ever name, think of, or dream up. As a swimmer, I spent a lot of time in their swimming section and wading through (see what I did there?) dozens of my fellow simmers writing sites. I am always looking for good blogs to read and running and swimming are my cherished categories. As an English teacher, my eye was drawn to the Creative Writing tab. I clicked it. Then I began to scroll through page after page after page of lists of blogs devoted to fiction, essays, and poetry. Have mercy, I have not even finished a scroll through them all there are so many.
One title caught my attention, and I could not resist clicking on it and going to the actual blog. This one is called Six Sentences and is dedication to various authors posting short stories that are confined to only, you guessed it, six sentences. I thought I had either heard or seen or done or thought of everything but that had never so much as entered my mind. I found the concept intriguing for the same reason I find haiku fascinating. A haiku, at least in its classical form, is only seventeen syllables. If one chooses those syllable carefully, one can say a lot in those three short lines.
A short story in six sentences? What an idea. It's sort of like prose haiku but just a tad longer. I read some of the posts and I liked a few and others I did not. What else is new? But now I am captured like a fox in a steel trap and will have to try my hand at this heretofore unknown-to-me genre. So now you know if you see a post title Six Sentences 1, etc. Or maybe I will expand it and do seven sentences. Yeah, that's it. On this blog, I will take a shot at writing seven sentence short stories. I bet you can't wait can you? Stay tuned.
One title caught my attention, and I could not resist clicking on it and going to the actual blog. This one is called Six Sentences and is dedication to various authors posting short stories that are confined to only, you guessed it, six sentences. I thought I had either heard or seen or done or thought of everything but that had never so much as entered my mind. I found the concept intriguing for the same reason I find haiku fascinating. A haiku, at least in its classical form, is only seventeen syllables. If one chooses those syllable carefully, one can say a lot in those three short lines.
A short story in six sentences? What an idea. It's sort of like prose haiku but just a tad longer. I read some of the posts and I liked a few and others I did not. What else is new? But now I am captured like a fox in a steel trap and will have to try my hand at this heretofore unknown-to-me genre. So now you know if you see a post title Six Sentences 1, etc. Or maybe I will expand it and do seven sentences. Yeah, that's it. On this blog, I will take a shot at writing seven sentence short stories. I bet you can't wait can you? Stay tuned.
Sam Superior Haikus
168
frozen grass lies still
while the flock feeds in the sun
warming the cold ground
169
large dog watches flock
turning aside the coyote.
shepherd sleeps inside.
170
coyotes run the ridge
from dark woods spying the flock.
door slam turns their path.
frozen grass lies still
while the flock feeds in the sun
warming the cold ground
169
large dog watches flock
turning aside the coyote.
shepherd sleeps inside.
170
coyotes run the ridge
from dark woods spying the flock.
door slam turns their path.
Monday, August 28, 2017
Weather
The weather. I don't know how many times I've written about it, but I'm at it again. Not because I am that interested, although I am, but I'm in my second English Composition I class of the day and we are fitness writing. About the weather.
Fitness writing you say?
Yeah. Sort of like journaling. Actually, it is journaling, but I like the concept of writing on demand as a work out, hence the name fitness writing. And the topic, well that comes from one of the most ubiquitous topics of conversation, complaining, and pontificating known to mankind. Everybody talks about it, and complains even though we can't do a single thing about it. We can't change the weather. All of mankind's technological, educational, and meteorological advancements have left us hapless humans still unable to cure the common cold or change the weather one tiny bit.
I know we like to flatter ourselves and think we have caused global warming. I know that some people believe this phenomena is settle science. I know some people believe this so strongly that they think people like me, global warming doubters, should be imprisoned.
Don't reject that last statement. I heard it on the radio. I thought the shows host had to be wrong or at least it was only some sort of crazy fringe who would dare suggest such a thing. So I asked one of my radical friends about it, convinced ahead of time that he would poo poo the whole notion and say it was fake news, made up. Yes, I have at least one friend who is pretty radical. To my shock, he did not call it fake news but rather agreed that it is better that I and people like me should actually go to prison to protect the earth so that mankind might survive. I promise, I am not making this up. He told me this over breakfast, at the Waffle House in Greenwood, Mississippi, looking me dead in the eye while he did it. I even paid for our meal. Tell me again who the intolerant ones in contemporary America are.
Oh well, I am a keen observer of weather since I have been a hunter and an all-day swimmer and all-day runner most of my life. Weather is pretty important to those things. But your observations are just anecdotal evidence you say. First, anecdotal evidence is evidence, and second, I really became a hard core denier when I caught NOAA falsifying records. Yes, I caught them. I did. I think I could again, but I let it slide. What can I change? It's only me.
Maybe I should explain. A few years back, we had a string of record lows in July. Five to be exact. We had five straight record lows and on the coldest of those nights, the mercury dipped to 48 degrees Fahrenheit. Let that sink in. I was blown away because 48 is cold any time of year. That experience shook me severely because first, I didn't have a clue it could get that cold in Mississippi in July, and second, I thought about Genesis 8:28 which declares:
While the earth remaineth, seedtime and harvest, and cold and
heat, and summer and winter, and day and night shall not cease. (KJV)
Having a 48 degree low in July challenged my Christian faith like noting in life ever has. I finally concluded that we still had summer even though parts of it were actually cold, and the Bible was still true even though we had that cold day in July that I've heard people sing about and pontificate on as if it could never happen. You know, "It will be a cold day in July before. . . ."
Fast forward to the summer of 2016. We had a record low in Mississippi in July. I saw the broadcast myself. The same meteorologist who reported the 48 degree record reported 58 as a new record low. I jumped out of bed in shock, called the station, and was sassed at and told if it ain't in NOAA it never happened. So I googled and searched and the official record is 58 degrees as the coldest ever in our state for the hottest of all summer months. That can only mean that they doctored the records, I assume, because the truth didn't fit the global warming narrative.
Another weather phenomena occurred a few years back that I haven't checked out but I bet if you checked NOAA, it never happened either. I remember this one well for two reasons. One, my wife's granddad used to tell me about a frost they had on May 4th that killed cotton. For the life of me, I could not believe him because I never saw anything close to it in my life. He must be mistaken, I thought. Then we had a very cool spring (they all are now) and we had "a record low of 34" on May 4th). This drove me nuts at the time because it was messing with my open water swim training. Now I have not checked NOAA to see what the all-time record is for May 4th in Mississippi, but I would be willing to wager that it is much warmer that 34. You do it yourself. Check it out. In fact, just start watching the weather on the local news. If you do that over several year, you will see that they have short memories.
That's all I'm saying about that.
Praise be to God who gives us good weather and promises us some stability, at least the seasons every year.
Fitness writing you say?
Yeah. Sort of like journaling. Actually, it is journaling, but I like the concept of writing on demand as a work out, hence the name fitness writing. And the topic, well that comes from one of the most ubiquitous topics of conversation, complaining, and pontificating known to mankind. Everybody talks about it, and complains even though we can't do a single thing about it. We can't change the weather. All of mankind's technological, educational, and meteorological advancements have left us hapless humans still unable to cure the common cold or change the weather one tiny bit.
I know we like to flatter ourselves and think we have caused global warming. I know that some people believe this phenomena is settle science. I know some people believe this so strongly that they think people like me, global warming doubters, should be imprisoned.
Don't reject that last statement. I heard it on the radio. I thought the shows host had to be wrong or at least it was only some sort of crazy fringe who would dare suggest such a thing. So I asked one of my radical friends about it, convinced ahead of time that he would poo poo the whole notion and say it was fake news, made up. Yes, I have at least one friend who is pretty radical. To my shock, he did not call it fake news but rather agreed that it is better that I and people like me should actually go to prison to protect the earth so that mankind might survive. I promise, I am not making this up. He told me this over breakfast, at the Waffle House in Greenwood, Mississippi, looking me dead in the eye while he did it. I even paid for our meal. Tell me again who the intolerant ones in contemporary America are.
Oh well, I am a keen observer of weather since I have been a hunter and an all-day swimmer and all-day runner most of my life. Weather is pretty important to those things. But your observations are just anecdotal evidence you say. First, anecdotal evidence is evidence, and second, I really became a hard core denier when I caught NOAA falsifying records. Yes, I caught them. I did. I think I could again, but I let it slide. What can I change? It's only me.
Maybe I should explain. A few years back, we had a string of record lows in July. Five to be exact. We had five straight record lows and on the coldest of those nights, the mercury dipped to 48 degrees Fahrenheit. Let that sink in. I was blown away because 48 is cold any time of year. That experience shook me severely because first, I didn't have a clue it could get that cold in Mississippi in July, and second, I thought about Genesis 8:28 which declares:
While the earth remaineth, seedtime and harvest, and cold and
heat, and summer and winter, and day and night shall not cease. (KJV)
Having a 48 degree low in July challenged my Christian faith like noting in life ever has. I finally concluded that we still had summer even though parts of it were actually cold, and the Bible was still true even though we had that cold day in July that I've heard people sing about and pontificate on as if it could never happen. You know, "It will be a cold day in July before. . . ."
Fast forward to the summer of 2016. We had a record low in Mississippi in July. I saw the broadcast myself. The same meteorologist who reported the 48 degree record reported 58 as a new record low. I jumped out of bed in shock, called the station, and was sassed at and told if it ain't in NOAA it never happened. So I googled and searched and the official record is 58 degrees as the coldest ever in our state for the hottest of all summer months. That can only mean that they doctored the records, I assume, because the truth didn't fit the global warming narrative.
Another weather phenomena occurred a few years back that I haven't checked out but I bet if you checked NOAA, it never happened either. I remember this one well for two reasons. One, my wife's granddad used to tell me about a frost they had on May 4th that killed cotton. For the life of me, I could not believe him because I never saw anything close to it in my life. He must be mistaken, I thought. Then we had a very cool spring (they all are now) and we had "a record low of 34" on May 4th). This drove me nuts at the time because it was messing with my open water swim training. Now I have not checked NOAA to see what the all-time record is for May 4th in Mississippi, but I would be willing to wager that it is much warmer that 34. You do it yourself. Check it out. In fact, just start watching the weather on the local news. If you do that over several year, you will see that they have short memories.
That's all I'm saying about that.
Praise be to God who gives us good weather and promises us some stability, at least the seasons every year.
8/21 - 8/27
I thought this was the week. At least it started that way. But what started with a bang ended with a fizzle.
Monday, I went to Twin Rivers and swam
1,700 at a shocking 2:11
6 X 50
total: 2,000 meters.
After that I did 7.1 miles of walking. Hot dog, I was busting it out.
Tuesday I swam 1,800 straight at a 2:12 pace. Ouch. But it was swimming.
Wednesday I went back for
1,000 (2:09)
8 X 50 (1:52)
2 X 100 (1:56)
500 (2:08)
I also did a leg workout at Plate City that went like this:
14 X 80
13 X 100
12 X 120
11 X 135
8 X 140
Thursday, Mom went to the hospital and although I spent the night up there, God still blessed me with the opportunity to swim. I did 2,500 straight in a dreadfully slow pace. That was pretty much it. I did something to my shoulder somewhere around this time that made it gimpy again. Friday I was tired and waiting for my sister to call and give me orders. Saturday, Trevor helped me work under the house. Sunday, I preached, visited Mom, visited the hospital, and took a nap.
For the week I
walked 7.1 miles,
lifted weights one time, and
swam 8,400 meters.
Praise God from whom all blessings flow.
Monday, I went to Twin Rivers and swam
1,700 at a shocking 2:11
6 X 50
total: 2,000 meters.
After that I did 7.1 miles of walking. Hot dog, I was busting it out.
Tuesday I swam 1,800 straight at a 2:12 pace. Ouch. But it was swimming.
Wednesday I went back for
1,000 (2:09)
8 X 50 (1:52)
2 X 100 (1:56)
500 (2:08)
I also did a leg workout at Plate City that went like this:
14 X 80
13 X 100
12 X 120
11 X 135
8 X 140
Thursday, Mom went to the hospital and although I spent the night up there, God still blessed me with the opportunity to swim. I did 2,500 straight in a dreadfully slow pace. That was pretty much it. I did something to my shoulder somewhere around this time that made it gimpy again. Friday I was tired and waiting for my sister to call and give me orders. Saturday, Trevor helped me work under the house. Sunday, I preached, visited Mom, visited the hospital, and took a nap.
For the week I
walked 7.1 miles,
lifted weights one time, and
swam 8,400 meters.
Praise God from whom all blessings flow.
Friday, August 25, 2017
Thursday
It was a busy day. First I had a rough drive to work. Then I taught three classes of English Composition I. After that, while eating lunch, I received a text from my sister that I needed to bust it home and help get Mom to the hospital. My boss graciously allowed me to leave so I found a high gear and went back to town just in time to see the ambulance pulling away from West Harding Street.
I followed them to the GLH where I went inside and found Shirley, one of our sitters, there already and getting the paperwork done for Mom's admittance. My sister has found and hired some good help who make it possible for Mom to be well-cared for and for us to have a life at the same time. They don't do it all, but we have help.
Carol relieved me about 2:00 o'clock. I went home and after a bit Carol texted me that I could go swimming if I wanted to. Yahtzee. So I went to Twin Rivers for my fourth swim of the week. I didn't do any sets, but I just started swimming and kept on until I hit 2,500. I thought that was enough for one day. In fact, that is the most I have swum on the comeback. It felt good almost like I was a real swimmer again. But when I looked at my watch afterwards, the pace was 2:13 per 100. Oh well.
So today is Friday and my shoulder is feeling a little more gimpy than in the recent past. I had no bad sensations in the pool. Did I over swim? Should I swim today? Am I stretching too much? I wish I could get beyond all these guesses, questions, and doubts and go back to swimming as much as time and energy allows. One day. Thank you, Jesus.
I followed them to the GLH where I went inside and found Shirley, one of our sitters, there already and getting the paperwork done for Mom's admittance. My sister has found and hired some good help who make it possible for Mom to be well-cared for and for us to have a life at the same time. They don't do it all, but we have help.
Carol relieved me about 2:00 o'clock. I went home and after a bit Carol texted me that I could go swimming if I wanted to. Yahtzee. So I went to Twin Rivers for my fourth swim of the week. I didn't do any sets, but I just started swimming and kept on until I hit 2,500. I thought that was enough for one day. In fact, that is the most I have swum on the comeback. It felt good almost like I was a real swimmer again. But when I looked at my watch afterwards, the pace was 2:13 per 100. Oh well.
So today is Friday and my shoulder is feeling a little more gimpy than in the recent past. I had no bad sensations in the pool. Did I over swim? Should I swim today? Am I stretching too much? I wish I could get beyond all these guesses, questions, and doubts and go back to swimming as much as time and energy allows. One day. Thank you, Jesus.
Four Months
"How long has she had trouble breathing?"
"Four months."
"No, I mean how long has she had the breathing problems?"
"Four months."
"No. How long has this acute breathing problem been an issue?"
"Four months. She has been examined by six physicians, five specialists, trying to find out why she couldn't breathe."
"Who?"
"I don't have the names, but I do have a list of the types of doctors she has seen in the last four months." I pulled up on my phone the record my sister had given me. "She has seen a Gastrointestinal doctor, a Cardiologist, a Hematologist, a Neurologist, and a Ear, Nose, and Throat Specialist."
He turned away and looked at me no more.
This conversation (I use the term loosely) took place this very morning at the Greenwood Leflore Hospital between me and a physician attending to my mom.
The look on his face said he either did not believe me or did not want to hear what I had to say. I was nice, mind you. I spoke matter-of-factly. But he is the one who asked the question; I answered politely but truthfully. Maybe he was embarrassed. I am guessing anyone on the street could be given Mom's symptoms and immediately make a correct diagnosis so it is hard to figure how something like this could have happened.
It's my sister who wouldn't give up. She is the one who kept making appointments who kept pressing the issue who somehow (don't ask) managed to secure a simple chest X-ray that you would thing would have been done four months ago. Bingo, there it was and it wasn't socket rience, not complicated at all.
I am not writing this to bash anyone. Please, don't misunderstand my point. I am writing this to encourage you to always fight for the ones you love. This is at least the second time my sister has saved my mother's life. I had given up. I accepted the line that it was "global decline" and this was the new normal for her, for us. But Carol Terrell kept insisting that this had come upon mother all at once and someone should be able to tell us why Mom was struggling to breathe. My sister not only observes, but she makes notes, she writes things down, and she has a written record of Mom's ups and downs and changes and doctors' appointments and what was said. Remember these simple things. Make notes, ask questions, and be persistent. It could save the life of someone you love.
"Four months."
"No, I mean how long has she had the breathing problems?"
"Four months."
"No. How long has this acute breathing problem been an issue?"
"Four months. She has been examined by six physicians, five specialists, trying to find out why she couldn't breathe."
"Who?"
"I don't have the names, but I do have a list of the types of doctors she has seen in the last four months." I pulled up on my phone the record my sister had given me. "She has seen a Gastrointestinal doctor, a Cardiologist, a Hematologist, a Neurologist, and a Ear, Nose, and Throat Specialist."
He turned away and looked at me no more.
This conversation (I use the term loosely) took place this very morning at the Greenwood Leflore Hospital between me and a physician attending to my mom.
The look on his face said he either did not believe me or did not want to hear what I had to say. I was nice, mind you. I spoke matter-of-factly. But he is the one who asked the question; I answered politely but truthfully. Maybe he was embarrassed. I am guessing anyone on the street could be given Mom's symptoms and immediately make a correct diagnosis so it is hard to figure how something like this could have happened.
It's my sister who wouldn't give up. She is the one who kept making appointments who kept pressing the issue who somehow (don't ask) managed to secure a simple chest X-ray that you would thing would have been done four months ago. Bingo, there it was and it wasn't socket rience, not complicated at all.
I am not writing this to bash anyone. Please, don't misunderstand my point. I am writing this to encourage you to always fight for the ones you love. This is at least the second time my sister has saved my mother's life. I had given up. I accepted the line that it was "global decline" and this was the new normal for her, for us. But Carol Terrell kept insisting that this had come upon mother all at once and someone should be able to tell us why Mom was struggling to breathe. My sister not only observes, but she makes notes, she writes things down, and she has a written record of Mom's ups and downs and changes and doctors' appointments and what was said. Remember these simple things. Make notes, ask questions, and be persistent. It could save the life of someone you love.
Thursday, August 24, 2017
Rant
Big rant.
Usually I am just the mildest, meekest sort of fellow. I rarely become angry and when I do it is usually at inanimate objects. Yeah, I know how much sense that makes. This morning, however, was different. I became angry. I got pissed. I was ready to assault someone.
Don't drive in the left lane. Don't drive in the left lane. Don't drive in the left lane. Did I mention not to drive in the left lane? Really, don't do it.
The right lane is for driving in and the left one is for passing. If you follow that simple rule, the world will be a much kinder and gentler place.
This morning, on my commute to Moorhead, some jack face filled the left lane from the time I got onto Highway 82 in Greenwood until past Itta Bena. Unfortunately, that is not unusual. People going from Greenwood to Itta Bena routinely do this. It can be frustrating. It can be infuriating. It does cause tension and wild driving to ensue as people trying to get to work weave in and out of traffic and constantly change lanes looking for a way, an escape, a way around.
What made this morning's experience so bad was that an 18-wheeler was the offender. Normally, these are the ones who know about these things and avoid making this driving/social blunder. Since 18-wheelers filled both lanes, the numerous stop lights on that part of the road combined with the heavy traffic that is a constant that time of the morning conspired to create a real back up. Tensions quickly rose. People were getting pretty crazy out there. I was convinced I was about to witness some bad wrecks to go along with the tough and reckless driving that unfolded before me.
Unlike my normal self, instead of praying and praising a God like I usually do on my drive to work, I found myself fantasizing about rocket launchers and machine guns mounted under the headlights of my truck. In my mind, I pulled the trigger and pushed the buttons to blow cars and people to Hades and back. Not only that, but once the traffic did start to open up, the hormones coursing through my body continued to fuel thoughts of destruction and death. I imaginarily machine gunned every car I saw all the way to the parking lot behind the library at MDCC. Not good.
Now I am trying to write away and pray away all those bad feelings. God forgive me, and to you drivers out there, stay out of the left lane except to pass. I mean it. Stay out of the left lane or get machine gunned to death.
Usually I am just the mildest, meekest sort of fellow. I rarely become angry and when I do it is usually at inanimate objects. Yeah, I know how much sense that makes. This morning, however, was different. I became angry. I got pissed. I was ready to assault someone.
Don't drive in the left lane. Don't drive in the left lane. Don't drive in the left lane. Did I mention not to drive in the left lane? Really, don't do it.
The right lane is for driving in and the left one is for passing. If you follow that simple rule, the world will be a much kinder and gentler place.
This morning, on my commute to Moorhead, some jack face filled the left lane from the time I got onto Highway 82 in Greenwood until past Itta Bena. Unfortunately, that is not unusual. People going from Greenwood to Itta Bena routinely do this. It can be frustrating. It can be infuriating. It does cause tension and wild driving to ensue as people trying to get to work weave in and out of traffic and constantly change lanes looking for a way, an escape, a way around.
What made this morning's experience so bad was that an 18-wheeler was the offender. Normally, these are the ones who know about these things and avoid making this driving/social blunder. Since 18-wheelers filled both lanes, the numerous stop lights on that part of the road combined with the heavy traffic that is a constant that time of the morning conspired to create a real back up. Tensions quickly rose. People were getting pretty crazy out there. I was convinced I was about to witness some bad wrecks to go along with the tough and reckless driving that unfolded before me.
Unlike my normal self, instead of praying and praising a God like I usually do on my drive to work, I found myself fantasizing about rocket launchers and machine guns mounted under the headlights of my truck. In my mind, I pulled the trigger and pushed the buttons to blow cars and people to Hades and back. Not only that, but once the traffic did start to open up, the hormones coursing through my body continued to fuel thoughts of destruction and death. I imaginarily machine gunned every car I saw all the way to the parking lot behind the library at MDCC. Not good.
Now I am trying to write away and pray away all those bad feelings. God forgive me, and to you drivers out there, stay out of the left lane except to pass. I mean it. Stay out of the left lane or get machine gunned to death.
Wednesday
I was supposed to meet John at Twin Rivers at 1:30. In four years, if he has ever been on time, I don't remember. He is usually anywhere from twenty minutes to an hour late. Lately, he has been outdoing himself. He has failed to even show up the last two times. I worked extra late one day last week with the promise of getting some office hours off and then scheduled the time off to swim with him. I could have and should have used that time off to spend time with my wife. She will be off work in a couple of weeks, and I could have taken the time then. He not only failed to show, but he failed to call. Recently, he cut ties with someone who cancelled something on him and that person gave advance notice. And he does it to me two times in one week without notice. Such is the blindness of the human heart.
No, I am not cutting ties. If I demanded perfection from my friends, I wouldn't have any. But I am going back to swimming when it best suits me, and I am not making a schedule for the benefit of someone else ahead of time. I am tired of making commitments with other people when I am the only one who honors those commitments even when it is inconvenient for me to do so. Work and other obligations have me following a schedule almost all the time. When I am off work, the last thing in the world I need and want is a schedule.
I had the pool to myself, which is always a delight. Right now it is a necessity. Did I tell you about the time last week when someone got in and started swimming when I was in the pool? I know it did not matter if someone passed me. In fact I kept telling myself that over and over as I saw him getting closer and closer on each lap. What did I do? I sped up even though the shoulder did not like it. Pride I guess.
The water was warm, but I did not take a reading. I guess it was 85 or more, and I was glad no one was there to tempt me to go too fast. I swam
1,000
8 X 50
2 X 100
500
total: 2,100 meters.
On paper, it looks like a real practice. In the pool, it almost felt that way. The 1,000 warm up was swum at a 2:09 pace. Dreadful again. But at least this time I felt like warming up and then moving to something else. That's a first on the comeback trail. Then on the 50s, I didn't do then on a set interval and I didn't push hard, but I did push a little bit. I averaged a 1:52 pace. The 100s were done like the 50s and averaged 1:56. I then cooled down with 500 easy at a 2:08 pace.
I went home, mowed the lawn, and then did a lower body workout at Plate City. the leg press workout went like this:
14 X 80
13 X 100
12 X 120
11 X 135
8 X 145
I did some other stuff, but the leg press is the heart of what I am doing now for the legs. They need all I will give them. I can tell a difference in how they feel just walking around since I picked up the machine and began using it only a few weeks ago. The legs feel stronger, more solid, and just sound. Now if I can lose this weight, maybe the running can start coming back.
I slept well.
Now I am eager to get back to the pool today. I have swum three days in a row, something I have not done since the Chicot buildup. The shoulder is maybe 70%. Two weeks ago I would have said it is 30%. I'm still a little disturbed, however, that i am over nine weeks in and still nowhere near 100%.
Praise the Lord for the healing I have experienced.
No, I am not cutting ties. If I demanded perfection from my friends, I wouldn't have any. But I am going back to swimming when it best suits me, and I am not making a schedule for the benefit of someone else ahead of time. I am tired of making commitments with other people when I am the only one who honors those commitments even when it is inconvenient for me to do so. Work and other obligations have me following a schedule almost all the time. When I am off work, the last thing in the world I need and want is a schedule.
I had the pool to myself, which is always a delight. Right now it is a necessity. Did I tell you about the time last week when someone got in and started swimming when I was in the pool? I know it did not matter if someone passed me. In fact I kept telling myself that over and over as I saw him getting closer and closer on each lap. What did I do? I sped up even though the shoulder did not like it. Pride I guess.
The water was warm, but I did not take a reading. I guess it was 85 or more, and I was glad no one was there to tempt me to go too fast. I swam
1,000
8 X 50
2 X 100
500
total: 2,100 meters.
On paper, it looks like a real practice. In the pool, it almost felt that way. The 1,000 warm up was swum at a 2:09 pace. Dreadful again. But at least this time I felt like warming up and then moving to something else. That's a first on the comeback trail. Then on the 50s, I didn't do then on a set interval and I didn't push hard, but I did push a little bit. I averaged a 1:52 pace. The 100s were done like the 50s and averaged 1:56. I then cooled down with 500 easy at a 2:08 pace.
I went home, mowed the lawn, and then did a lower body workout at Plate City. the leg press workout went like this:
14 X 80
13 X 100
12 X 120
11 X 135
8 X 145
I did some other stuff, but the leg press is the heart of what I am doing now for the legs. They need all I will give them. I can tell a difference in how they feel just walking around since I picked up the machine and began using it only a few weeks ago. The legs feel stronger, more solid, and just sound. Now if I can lose this weight, maybe the running can start coming back.
I slept well.
Now I am eager to get back to the pool today. I have swum three days in a row, something I have not done since the Chicot buildup. The shoulder is maybe 70%. Two weeks ago I would have said it is 30%. I'm still a little disturbed, however, that i am over nine weeks in and still nowhere near 100%.
Praise the Lord for the healing I have experienced.
Wednesday, August 23, 2017
Tuesday
Tuesday was full from early to late. I left Moorhead about 1:30 after teaching three straight Comp I classes and keeping my obligatory office hours. Then I went to Mom's to take her to the hospital for a chest X-ray. After that I went home and crashed. Ever since Mom made me take naps as a little boy, I have had the need to put my brain in neutral for a few minutes each day. I don't get to do that at school. It doesn't take much, the neutral, but I need a short nap around mid-day. If I don't get it, I become extremely tired, cranky, and difficult to get along with. Not getting that break until 4:00ish, I went sound to sleep when I finally got the chance to slow.
At 6:05 I went the Twin Rivers still feeling tired to the bone. I had the pool all to myself. That's the way I like it. One problem though, that blasted robot was running. I hate it, but it is better than attempting to swim with kids in the water. I swam 1,800 straight in 39:46, a shockingly slow 2:12 per 100 meters. I know it really doesn't matter at this point, but that hurt my feelings and gave me great pause. Normally, a warm up pace is around 2:00 give or take a couple of seconds. This is the second day in a row that my pace has been about that. Will it come back? I have not had a long lay off like this before so this is new territory. I have been in new territory for a long time now and it wearies me. I am thankful, however, to be able to swim at all. I know I am not in shape. But 2:12!!! Monday's swim was 1,700 at 2:11. Is that the new normal?
After the swim, I went back to the hospital to visit a lady who has been attending our church. Then I went home and hung out with Luvie, watched a segment of Manhunt: Unabomber, and zonked out early.
It is now Wednesday morning and we are journal writing in Comp I. The plan today is to take my second reward of office hours off (for work late on Late Registration last Thursday) and meet John at the pool for an hour and a half of swimming. Want to bet he is late?
Praise God for imperfect friends. If I did not have less than perfect friends, I would have no friends at all.
At 6:05 I went the Twin Rivers still feeling tired to the bone. I had the pool all to myself. That's the way I like it. One problem though, that blasted robot was running. I hate it, but it is better than attempting to swim with kids in the water. I swam 1,800 straight in 39:46, a shockingly slow 2:12 per 100 meters. I know it really doesn't matter at this point, but that hurt my feelings and gave me great pause. Normally, a warm up pace is around 2:00 give or take a couple of seconds. This is the second day in a row that my pace has been about that. Will it come back? I have not had a long lay off like this before so this is new territory. I have been in new territory for a long time now and it wearies me. I am thankful, however, to be able to swim at all. I know I am not in shape. But 2:12!!! Monday's swim was 1,700 at 2:11. Is that the new normal?
After the swim, I went back to the hospital to visit a lady who has been attending our church. Then I went home and hung out with Luvie, watched a segment of Manhunt: Unabomber, and zonked out early.
It is now Wednesday morning and we are journal writing in Comp I. The plan today is to take my second reward of office hours off (for work late on Late Registration last Thursday) and meet John at the pool for an hour and a half of swimming. Want to bet he is late?
Praise God for imperfect friends. If I did not have less than perfect friends, I would have no friends at all.
Tuesday, August 22, 2017
Monday
Monday was a good start to a week of training and, I hope, weight loss. I have lost one pound for each of the last two weeks. That means I am down to only major fat now. Finally, I think, I am on the straight and narrow, getting my appetites under control, and doing what is necessary. Debbie Johnson continues to be an inspiration and a shining example to me because she has stayed on the straight and narrow with narry a deviation as far as I can tell. Penny and I eat with her and Gerald often and she always makes wise food choices.
Of course I viewed the eclipse. Without glasses, I went home after work to change clothes and get ready to head to the pool. Then I remembered I had some X-rays in the house. This was about 1:30. Already, the world looked like you were looking through some not too dark sunglasses. The light was dampened and everything had a blueish hue to it. I retrieved the X-ray, went outside, and took a peek. Dude, it was amazing. The eclipse was probably 80% or more. Then I held my phone up just above the X-ray and took a picture. All I got on the pic was bright sun. Huh! I looked again through the X-ray and once more saw the neat eclipse. So I took another picture. The photo only showed bright sun. I don't get it.
Anyway, I went to Twin Rivers where I was supposed to meet John at 1:30. We have swum together very little this year. Allegedly, he is not happy about this. I was twelve minutes late starting. I swam 1,700 and then did 6 X 50 for a total of 2,000. John never showed.
I worked late Thursday because I had the promise of two days of no office hours in return for handling late registration. I did this so John and I could swim together for two days this week. He didn't show. See why I stopped waiting on him. Next week he will want to know when we can swim together. I told him about all that already, but he thinks if he asks me enough times, the answer will change. I can't change the answer if I wanted to. He missed the chance. Maybe we can swim together in 2018.
The shoulder, by the way, is continuing to improve. I would say right now that it is about 60% well. My swimming is at a pretty leisurely pace and that is not causing it any problems. Slowly, I am able to do more and more and I yelp less and less. Actually, I yelp fewer and fewer times each day. Finally, I really believe it is going to be OK. I have believed this several days in a row.
After swimming, I took one of those walks. I slowed the cadence a bit and didn't do any shuffling. The pace of my recent walks along with some worn out shoes and the shuffling has been producing a bit of strain on my gimpy knee. After the 7.1 miles hike, the knee felt fine. I took a protein shake and an apple for supper and was not tempted to snack. That's how the weight comes off for me. If I can do this every day, I will drop two pounds this week instead of one. Only losing one pound per week was on account of me sneaking chips and cookies and stuff such as that. If I really push it, I can go down three.
Hope lives, hope grows, hope brings energy and motivation. Thank you Jesus.
Of course I viewed the eclipse. Without glasses, I went home after work to change clothes and get ready to head to the pool. Then I remembered I had some X-rays in the house. This was about 1:30. Already, the world looked like you were looking through some not too dark sunglasses. The light was dampened and everything had a blueish hue to it. I retrieved the X-ray, went outside, and took a peek. Dude, it was amazing. The eclipse was probably 80% or more. Then I held my phone up just above the X-ray and took a picture. All I got on the pic was bright sun. Huh! I looked again through the X-ray and once more saw the neat eclipse. So I took another picture. The photo only showed bright sun. I don't get it.
Anyway, I went to Twin Rivers where I was supposed to meet John at 1:30. We have swum together very little this year. Allegedly, he is not happy about this. I was twelve minutes late starting. I swam 1,700 and then did 6 X 50 for a total of 2,000. John never showed.
I worked late Thursday because I had the promise of two days of no office hours in return for handling late registration. I did this so John and I could swim together for two days this week. He didn't show. See why I stopped waiting on him. Next week he will want to know when we can swim together. I told him about all that already, but he thinks if he asks me enough times, the answer will change. I can't change the answer if I wanted to. He missed the chance. Maybe we can swim together in 2018.
The shoulder, by the way, is continuing to improve. I would say right now that it is about 60% well. My swimming is at a pretty leisurely pace and that is not causing it any problems. Slowly, I am able to do more and more and I yelp less and less. Actually, I yelp fewer and fewer times each day. Finally, I really believe it is going to be OK. I have believed this several days in a row.
After swimming, I took one of those walks. I slowed the cadence a bit and didn't do any shuffling. The pace of my recent walks along with some worn out shoes and the shuffling has been producing a bit of strain on my gimpy knee. After the 7.1 miles hike, the knee felt fine. I took a protein shake and an apple for supper and was not tempted to snack. That's how the weight comes off for me. If I can do this every day, I will drop two pounds this week instead of one. Only losing one pound per week was on account of me sneaking chips and cookies and stuff such as that. If I really push it, I can go down three.
Hope lives, hope grows, hope brings energy and motivation. Thank you Jesus.
Monday, August 21, 2017
8/14 - 8/20
After experiencing it my whole life, I am still amazed at how much better I feel when I am physically active. I am still way below average, but bit by bit, my activity level is coming up.
Monday, I did my longish walk, going 6.69 with .15 of shuffling thrown in. in the yard i did another .28. not only that, but I went to Twin Rivers for a 1,300 meter swim. A good day.
Tuesday, I worked out at Plate City. The new leg press is palace. I did
11 X 50
12 X 75
11 X 95
10 X 115
8 X 130
8 X 135
At the pool, I swam 1,400. A good day.
Wednesday, I did another ramble/walk going 6.74 miles.
Thursday, I worked until past 4:00 at the Moorhead campus and by the time I got home, I was stricken with a severe case of laziness. I watched TV. I ate chips. I petted CC. I am no good. Jesus, save me from myself.
Friday I bounced back a little with 1,600 straight at Twin Rivers. Dog gone it, I feel like I am going to make it now.
Saturday, Trevor and I moved some plywood and concrete pads. Last i did 1.38 miles in the yard and hit the leg press for
13 X 75
12 X 95
12 X 115
10 X 130
10 X 140
8 X 145
For the week, I swam 4,300 meters, walked 15.13 miles, lifted weights twice, and shuffled .37 miles.
Better.
Thank you Lord.
Monday, I did my longish walk, going 6.69 with .15 of shuffling thrown in. in the yard i did another .28. not only that, but I went to Twin Rivers for a 1,300 meter swim. A good day.
Tuesday, I worked out at Plate City. The new leg press is palace. I did
11 X 50
12 X 75
11 X 95
10 X 115
8 X 130
8 X 135
At the pool, I swam 1,400. A good day.
Wednesday, I did another ramble/walk going 6.74 miles.
Thursday, I worked until past 4:00 at the Moorhead campus and by the time I got home, I was stricken with a severe case of laziness. I watched TV. I ate chips. I petted CC. I am no good. Jesus, save me from myself.
Friday I bounced back a little with 1,600 straight at Twin Rivers. Dog gone it, I feel like I am going to make it now.
Saturday, Trevor and I moved some plywood and concrete pads. Last i did 1.38 miles in the yard and hit the leg press for
13 X 75
12 X 95
12 X 115
10 X 130
10 X 140
8 X 145
For the week, I swam 4,300 meters, walked 15.13 miles, lifted weights twice, and shuffled .37 miles.
Better.
Thank you Lord.
Friday, August 18, 2017
Friday Morning Swim
After writing my blog post, I was supposed to meet John at Twin Rivers. He told me last week that he overheard the ladies water aerobics class say that they would not be there next (this) Friday. So, finally being off and with the shoulder improving, we decided to have a swim since we would have the pool to ourselves.
The plan was to meet at 9:00. I drove up on the hour to a pool full of ladies. I called John (who had not left home yet!) and told him I was coming at 10:00. I know I could have swum with them, but I am still getting used to swimming in general and swimming without the lane lines in particular, and I didn't want the added pressure of trying not to swim into one of them while being a mere shadow of my former self.
So I came back at 10:00. Actually, I was late because I knew John would be tardy. John is always tardy. I chatted with Susan Walker and Linda Gail Fondren a bit and then got into the water at 10:13. John was still not in sight. Sigh.
I started swimming and instead of stopping after the first 50 like I've been doing, I flipped and swam back. When I felt nothing in the shoulder, I kept going after the first lap. Since beginning the comeback, I have not gone over 300 straight and that only after a slow and deliberate warm up that starts with 50 at a time. This time I did two laps, then three. At the end of three I kept going and did four, then five and sixteen. Yeah, I kept going for 1,600. I began to be aware of the upper biceps tendons-- not pain or even discomfort, just awareness-- so I tapped out after a slow mile. I was pretty satisfied with that.
John came up when I was about 1,200 in. After swimming, I did 500 kick with fins, then chatted with John a bit and went home. My pace was a pitiful 2:08, but at this point, it doesn't matter. I am thrilled to be swimming at all. Hope grows. Thank you Jesus.
The plan was to meet at 9:00. I drove up on the hour to a pool full of ladies. I called John (who had not left home yet!) and told him I was coming at 10:00. I know I could have swum with them, but I am still getting used to swimming in general and swimming without the lane lines in particular, and I didn't want the added pressure of trying not to swim into one of them while being a mere shadow of my former self.
So I came back at 10:00. Actually, I was late because I knew John would be tardy. John is always tardy. I chatted with Susan Walker and Linda Gail Fondren a bit and then got into the water at 10:13. John was still not in sight. Sigh.
I started swimming and instead of stopping after the first 50 like I've been doing, I flipped and swam back. When I felt nothing in the shoulder, I kept going after the first lap. Since beginning the comeback, I have not gone over 300 straight and that only after a slow and deliberate warm up that starts with 50 at a time. This time I did two laps, then three. At the end of three I kept going and did four, then five and sixteen. Yeah, I kept going for 1,600. I began to be aware of the upper biceps tendons-- not pain or even discomfort, just awareness-- so I tapped out after a slow mile. I was pretty satisfied with that.
John came up when I was about 1,200 in. After swimming, I did 500 kick with fins, then chatted with John a bit and went home. My pace was a pitiful 2:08, but at this point, it doesn't matter. I am thrilled to be swimming at all. Hope grows. Thank you Jesus.
Friday
Friday morning.
Those are the sublimest words in the English language.
Last week I had to work. I hate working on Friday. Ever since MDCC went on a four-day week, (2007 I think) I have counted the fifth day of the week as sacrosanct. When anything, and I mean anything, messes with my special day, I am not a happy camper. To understand how this day means so much to me, you need a little look back on life in the past.
For a couple of decades, I never had any time off. Really, I never had time off, never had money, never had enough energy. All of it was used up. I worked a full-time job, pastored a church, raised children, tried to take care of a house, and went to school. I completed BA, an MDiv, a PhD, and an MEd. If I wasn't on the job or in the pulpit or in class, or meeting with teachers or taking a sick child to the doctor, I was studying and I mean studying. My play, sports, and health were all on the back burner. Scratch that, they were only a distant memory of a bygone day that would never return.
Once, as I drove around in that little pest control truck and day dreamed, I had fantasies of what life could be life IF. I wondered what it would be like to have some time off. I thought, wouldn't it be nice to have a real vacation? Wouldn't it be nice to have enough pay to cover the bills? Wouldn't it be nice to live close to work? Wouldn't it be nice to get off a little earlier than 5:00 o'clock? Wouldn't it be nice not to have to work everyday? Wouldn't it be nice to have a retirement? Wouldn't it be nice to have all that and still have a job? Wouldn't it be nice to have a job that was not so physically difficult?
It sounds like a tale, but for thirteen years during that time, my personal vehicle was a 1971 GMC pickup truck that I purchased for $200. When my son was ten years old, I cleaned out the storage room of all the old house paint, gave him a brush and told him to have at it. Yep, a ten year old painted my truck with house paint. It looked better. I was in the library at Wesley Biblical one day when I, from several book rows over, overheard one student ask another, "Have you seen Zane?" The askee responded with, "No, but I've seen his truck." The normally quiet book house broke out into a round of laughter.
Life was a struggle then. I commuted in that old truck to Delta State in Cleveland, MS, to Wesley Biblical Seminary in Jackson, MS, and to Mid-America Baptist in Memphis, TN. I had a propane heater I set on the floorboard in the winter time and I duct-taped the window up to keep them from rattling down.
That little mental wish list happened while I drove slowly down Montgomery Street in Greenwood, Mississippi about the year 1999. I had hope for a better day, but the things that ran through my mind then were only fantasy. What if? Ever play "What if?"
Fast forward to a Friday morning in 2008. I was doing what I'm doing now: drinking coffee, hanging out with cats, and pecking on a computer. God arrested my attention and caused me to think back to that forlorn day. "Remember?" He whispered to my soul. "Remember all those wishes? I gave you all of it."
Indeed, God's goodness is without measure. Life is more enjoyable now, easier, playful. I start slow on Fridays and play fast and long. Today I meet a friend at the pool and we swim. This afternoon a mow grass and lift weights in the back yard gym. Fridays are literally God's gift to me and that is why I feel like Satan is plotting, scheming, working when someone or something encroached even a little on my special day. Leave me alone world, or face my wrath.
Thank you Jesus for your blessings. In this case, you answered not a prayer but a wish list. May these answers always be fresh in my heart. May I always cherish them. May I always praise You for your goodness.
Those are the sublimest words in the English language.
Last week I had to work. I hate working on Friday. Ever since MDCC went on a four-day week, (2007 I think) I have counted the fifth day of the week as sacrosanct. When anything, and I mean anything, messes with my special day, I am not a happy camper. To understand how this day means so much to me, you need a little look back on life in the past.
For a couple of decades, I never had any time off. Really, I never had time off, never had money, never had enough energy. All of it was used up. I worked a full-time job, pastored a church, raised children, tried to take care of a house, and went to school. I completed BA, an MDiv, a PhD, and an MEd. If I wasn't on the job or in the pulpit or in class, or meeting with teachers or taking a sick child to the doctor, I was studying and I mean studying. My play, sports, and health were all on the back burner. Scratch that, they were only a distant memory of a bygone day that would never return.
Once, as I drove around in that little pest control truck and day dreamed, I had fantasies of what life could be life IF. I wondered what it would be like to have some time off. I thought, wouldn't it be nice to have a real vacation? Wouldn't it be nice to have enough pay to cover the bills? Wouldn't it be nice to live close to work? Wouldn't it be nice to get off a little earlier than 5:00 o'clock? Wouldn't it be nice not to have to work everyday? Wouldn't it be nice to have a retirement? Wouldn't it be nice to have all that and still have a job? Wouldn't it be nice to have a job that was not so physically difficult?
It sounds like a tale, but for thirteen years during that time, my personal vehicle was a 1971 GMC pickup truck that I purchased for $200. When my son was ten years old, I cleaned out the storage room of all the old house paint, gave him a brush and told him to have at it. Yep, a ten year old painted my truck with house paint. It looked better. I was in the library at Wesley Biblical one day when I, from several book rows over, overheard one student ask another, "Have you seen Zane?" The askee responded with, "No, but I've seen his truck." The normally quiet book house broke out into a round of laughter.
Life was a struggle then. I commuted in that old truck to Delta State in Cleveland, MS, to Wesley Biblical Seminary in Jackson, MS, and to Mid-America Baptist in Memphis, TN. I had a propane heater I set on the floorboard in the winter time and I duct-taped the window up to keep them from rattling down.
That little mental wish list happened while I drove slowly down Montgomery Street in Greenwood, Mississippi about the year 1999. I had hope for a better day, but the things that ran through my mind then were only fantasy. What if? Ever play "What if?"
Fast forward to a Friday morning in 2008. I was doing what I'm doing now: drinking coffee, hanging out with cats, and pecking on a computer. God arrested my attention and caused me to think back to that forlorn day. "Remember?" He whispered to my soul. "Remember all those wishes? I gave you all of it."
Indeed, God's goodness is without measure. Life is more enjoyable now, easier, playful. I start slow on Fridays and play fast and long. Today I meet a friend at the pool and we swim. This afternoon a mow grass and lift weights in the back yard gym. Fridays are literally God's gift to me and that is why I feel like Satan is plotting, scheming, working when someone or something encroached even a little on my special day. Leave me alone world, or face my wrath.
Thank you Jesus for your blessings. In this case, you answered not a prayer but a wish list. May these answers always be fresh in my heart. May I always cherish them. May I always praise You for your goodness.
Thursday, August 17, 2017
Oooops!
I left my lunch at home. Dude, I drove off to Moorhead without bringing the meal my sweet wife dutifully prepared for me. Jimmy Guiles used to say, "I have a forgetter that works overtime." He was speaking of himself, but I stole that sentence from him and unfortunately, I stole the problem also. Or maybe I inherited it.
So I am stuck here all day with anything to eat. Not to worry because I need to unfat a little bit anyway. OK. Stop it already. I need to unfat a lot. Actually, I began in earnest this week and have already dropped a couple of pounds. But, you protest, I thought you started a few weeks back. I thought so too, but somehow I didn't. I am on it now, however, and the motivation has finally arrived, mailed by God in answer to prayer, longing, and yearning. Thank you Jesus.
The motivation may be tied to a resurgence of hope. With a little swimming and a little walking and a very little shuffling, hope has risen in my heart like the July sun on a hot, clear delta day. Running, even a small amount, has always had an immediate impact on how I eat. I don't know why but I just become more picky about what and how much I eat when I am running. There is a huge correlation, of course, between body weight and running ability. The brain, I think, is aware of this subconsciously even when it is not floating around in our awareness.
On forgetting my lunch, it was my wife's fault. Everything is. She parked behind me so when I looked out the front door this morning, I saw that had to move her truck in order to get out of the drive way. When I did that, I noticed all the trash cans on the side of the road and realized that I had to move ours from the back to the front so our garbage would get picked up. After I got the truck moved and the garbage can deposited on the side of the road, it was then time to find my keys. I have spent years looking for keys. Really, I wish I had all the time I have spent looking for keys. If I could roll that clock back, I would be a young man. To make a short story long, I left home in a huff and a hurry with narry a thought of my lovingly-packed lunch. My lunch, my lunch, oh how I miss thee.
To make matters worse, I am here today until 4:00 pm. Normally, I don't work that long, but I volunteered for some extra duty today. Why? you ask. I did it because I get the time back off next week and I figure I can use the time to swim at Twin Rivers. Speaking of swimming, I did it Monday for 1,300 meters, and Tuesday for 1,400 meters. After taking yesterday off to do a long walk, I hope to swim again tonight. Yeah, the plan is for 1,500 easy meters. Praise the Lord.
So I am stuck here all day with anything to eat. Not to worry because I need to unfat a little bit anyway. OK. Stop it already. I need to unfat a lot. Actually, I began in earnest this week and have already dropped a couple of pounds. But, you protest, I thought you started a few weeks back. I thought so too, but somehow I didn't. I am on it now, however, and the motivation has finally arrived, mailed by God in answer to prayer, longing, and yearning. Thank you Jesus.
The motivation may be tied to a resurgence of hope. With a little swimming and a little walking and a very little shuffling, hope has risen in my heart like the July sun on a hot, clear delta day. Running, even a small amount, has always had an immediate impact on how I eat. I don't know why but I just become more picky about what and how much I eat when I am running. There is a huge correlation, of course, between body weight and running ability. The brain, I think, is aware of this subconsciously even when it is not floating around in our awareness.
On forgetting my lunch, it was my wife's fault. Everything is. She parked behind me so when I looked out the front door this morning, I saw that had to move her truck in order to get out of the drive way. When I did that, I noticed all the trash cans on the side of the road and realized that I had to move ours from the back to the front so our garbage would get picked up. After I got the truck moved and the garbage can deposited on the side of the road, it was then time to find my keys. I have spent years looking for keys. Really, I wish I had all the time I have spent looking for keys. If I could roll that clock back, I would be a young man. To make a short story long, I left home in a huff and a hurry with narry a thought of my lovingly-packed lunch. My lunch, my lunch, oh how I miss thee.
To make matters worse, I am here today until 4:00 pm. Normally, I don't work that long, but I volunteered for some extra duty today. Why? you ask. I did it because I get the time back off next week and I figure I can use the time to swim at Twin Rivers. Speaking of swimming, I did it Monday for 1,300 meters, and Tuesday for 1,400 meters. After taking yesterday off to do a long walk, I hope to swim again tonight. Yeah, the plan is for 1,500 easy meters. Praise the Lord.
Wednesday, August 16, 2017
Sam Can't Touch These
165
we turn off highway,
we cross bridge and gator dives,
sheep feed close to fence.
166
flock gathers at fence,
pilgrims stop and sweet talk them,
they all are God's sheep
167
sheep stand in the rain,
they chew cud and graze over fence,
God is the shepherd.
we turn off highway,
we cross bridge and gator dives,
sheep feed close to fence.
166
flock gathers at fence,
pilgrims stop and sweet talk them,
they all are God's sheep
167
sheep stand in the rain,
they chew cud and graze over fence,
God is the shepherd.
Tuesday, August 15, 2017
Dreaming of Dreams
Beginning a semester is always a particularly difficult time for training. A lot of time requirements are placed upon us by the administration making big training a challenge. My advantage now is that I am not fit enough for really big stuff. The most time consuming workout I am currently doing is my longer walks. Still, I am undone with being fat and unfit. I want to be in shape, and I want if now.
So I hit a big Monday on our first week of classes. The morning, however, started as if the day were doomed. I had planned to go in for a swim before work, but while still in bed, I heard the thunder roar. We have had a lot of rain lately, and I am lusting to swim in a downpour. But I draw the line with lightning and refuse to tempt God in that way. Thus one planned workout was already cancelled before the day began. But as soon as I got home from work in the afternoon, I hit Money Road for a 6.69 mile walk. Embedded in that was a .1 mile shuffle and a 490 foot shuffle. Just listen to how wimpy that sounds. But right now to me it signals hope that I will run again one day.
When I got home from my stroll on the open road, Penny asked if I was going swimming. Naturally I said, "Heck yeah," and then headed for Twin Rivers. When I got there, the pool was empty of kids. Wow. Now that school is in session, I guess the moms are getting their children home earlier than during the summer break. Plus I don't have any night classes this semester so as long as the weather and shoulder permit, I can hit the pool every night.
I started with a 100 and felt some sensations, not pain or discomfort, but something in the shoulder. So I went back to 50s until I started warming up at 400. That is where I always began to warm, 400 meters. Then I upped it to 100s for two, then 150s for two, and finally 200s for two. That gave me 1,300, the longest swim of my comeback thus far. Maybe I can swim four or five times this week. The upper biceps tendons are still not well, but they pain me less and less frequently. Now I have hope for swimming in the future as well as running.
Hope is the soil where dreams grow. But hope needs health. Hope needs imagination. Hope needs excitement for the seed of a dream to sprout. God plants a seed in hope and imagination and His Spirit waters, nourishes, weeds. Right now, I am trying-- through time, prayer, gently exercise and even medical science-- to regain health enough to begin once more to dream. You could say I am dreaming of dreaming. I have not had that kind of dream since I climbed out of the water late Saturday night on June 3rd. Actually, I have not dreamed since that distance and course and challenge were conceived within me months before. I have done some thinking but no dreaming. I love to dream, to plan, to set goals. Dreams put a fire inside and carry one through fatigue and obstacles and discouragement. Dreams lead to hard work, hard work with joy and purpose. Dreams are God's gift, His blessing to fragile humans He loves. But one must be ready to receive, prepared for God to pour thoughts and challenges into the willing soul. I'm trying to get ready, to be like a monk who fasts and prays and receives from above the gift of his challenge. I want a dream. I want that dream. I want my dream, the one prepared for me before the foundation of the world.
Oh Lord, create in me the health of body, purity of soul, and vision of mind to receive the next Chicot Challenge.
So I hit a big Monday on our first week of classes. The morning, however, started as if the day were doomed. I had planned to go in for a swim before work, but while still in bed, I heard the thunder roar. We have had a lot of rain lately, and I am lusting to swim in a downpour. But I draw the line with lightning and refuse to tempt God in that way. Thus one planned workout was already cancelled before the day began. But as soon as I got home from work in the afternoon, I hit Money Road for a 6.69 mile walk. Embedded in that was a .1 mile shuffle and a 490 foot shuffle. Just listen to how wimpy that sounds. But right now to me it signals hope that I will run again one day.
When I got home from my stroll on the open road, Penny asked if I was going swimming. Naturally I said, "Heck yeah," and then headed for Twin Rivers. When I got there, the pool was empty of kids. Wow. Now that school is in session, I guess the moms are getting their children home earlier than during the summer break. Plus I don't have any night classes this semester so as long as the weather and shoulder permit, I can hit the pool every night.
I started with a 100 and felt some sensations, not pain or discomfort, but something in the shoulder. So I went back to 50s until I started warming up at 400. That is where I always began to warm, 400 meters. Then I upped it to 100s for two, then 150s for two, and finally 200s for two. That gave me 1,300, the longest swim of my comeback thus far. Maybe I can swim four or five times this week. The upper biceps tendons are still not well, but they pain me less and less frequently. Now I have hope for swimming in the future as well as running.
Hope is the soil where dreams grow. But hope needs health. Hope needs imagination. Hope needs excitement for the seed of a dream to sprout. God plants a seed in hope and imagination and His Spirit waters, nourishes, weeds. Right now, I am trying-- through time, prayer, gently exercise and even medical science-- to regain health enough to begin once more to dream. You could say I am dreaming of dreaming. I have not had that kind of dream since I climbed out of the water late Saturday night on June 3rd. Actually, I have not dreamed since that distance and course and challenge were conceived within me months before. I have done some thinking but no dreaming. I love to dream, to plan, to set goals. Dreams put a fire inside and carry one through fatigue and obstacles and discouragement. Dreams lead to hard work, hard work with joy and purpose. Dreams are God's gift, His blessing to fragile humans He loves. But one must be ready to receive, prepared for God to pour thoughts and challenges into the willing soul. I'm trying to get ready, to be like a monk who fasts and prays and receives from above the gift of his challenge. I want a dream. I want that dream. I want my dream, the one prepared for me before the foundation of the world.
Oh Lord, create in me the health of body, purity of soul, and vision of mind to receive the next Chicot Challenge.
Monday, August 14, 2017
8/7 - 8/13
I actually call this one a training week. It still wasn't much compared to weeks of bygone days, but I am sure what I did will advance my fitness a little. One of the things that has been circling around in my mind is some long walks and mountain bike rides this fall and winter. If I can't run, at least I can walk and if I train and dedicate a full day to walking, I could probably hike a marathon or more one Friday or three. Plus with the new leg press machine, I am really juiced up about lower body lifting. Maybe I can set up the trainer in the back yard and do some monster leg stuff.
Monday I hopped on the trainer for 43:00 minutes and walked one mile on the treadmill. Tuesday I walked 6.47 miles, and Wednesday I slowed it down to 1.23 miles of walking.
Thursday I was in the pool for the first time in many weeks. I slowly stroked 500 meters a paltry 50 meters at a time. I would have been embarrassed had anyone been there but thankfully no one was since I went in before work and all the pool help are high school students who have started back to class. After work, I did some leg work at Plate City Gym.
Friday I was back at the pool before work for 700 meters. Later, I snuk in 1.3 miles of walking.
Saturday was such a big day that I wrote a whole post on it already. I did 6.51 miles of walking with just a little bit of shuffling embedded in the stroll. I also did some major leg work with the new leg press as well as going back to the pool for a whopping 1,200 meters.
For the week, I lifted weights two times, walked 20.59 miles, cycled 43:00 minutes on the trainer, and swam 1,200 meters. Now let the training begin. Thank you, Jesus.
Monday I hopped on the trainer for 43:00 minutes and walked one mile on the treadmill. Tuesday I walked 6.47 miles, and Wednesday I slowed it down to 1.23 miles of walking.
Thursday I was in the pool for the first time in many weeks. I slowly stroked 500 meters a paltry 50 meters at a time. I would have been embarrassed had anyone been there but thankfully no one was since I went in before work and all the pool help are high school students who have started back to class. After work, I did some leg work at Plate City Gym.
Friday I was back at the pool before work for 700 meters. Later, I snuk in 1.3 miles of walking.
Saturday was such a big day that I wrote a whole post on it already. I did 6.51 miles of walking with just a little bit of shuffling embedded in the stroll. I also did some major leg work with the new leg press as well as going back to the pool for a whopping 1,200 meters.
For the week, I lifted weights two times, walked 20.59 miles, cycled 43:00 minutes on the trainer, and swam 1,200 meters. Now let the training begin. Thank you, Jesus.
Saturday, August 12, 2017
I Came, I Swam, I Cried
Saturday I had myself a day. Coffee and sermon prep took up the first comfortable couple of hours before I hit the road for a walk. Going out Money and Wade Roads, I did 6.51 with a full minute of shuffling embedded in that, thus bolstering my hope to run again one day.
We have had a lot of rain of late so the lawn was in serious need of attention. I mowed the front three times to smooth it out and chop and scatter all the clippings. That added to my foot miles for the day.
Later in the afternoon, I reinstalled the new leg press. Donny had the attachment part redone and it is great. I mowed the back lawn and did some leg presses and leg extensions. It went something like this:
Leg extension
10 X 50
10 X 57.5
10 X 65
10 X 72.5
Leg press
10 X 50
10 X 75
10 X 95
10 X 115
8 X 130
I was pretty satisfied with that, but then I remembered the pool and decided to ride over to Twin Rivers. I got in at 7:00 pm and swam 1,200 meters. I was a little faster, a little smoother, and felt a little more confident about the shoulder. I am not well but better. I so enjoyed this swim and was so encouraged by it that when I climbed into the truck to drive home, I began to weep. Thank you, Jesus for giving me a swim and the joy of the water. I truly love it and have missed swimming like crazy. All the activity gave my mental health a huge boost.
We have had a lot of rain of late so the lawn was in serious need of attention. I mowed the front three times to smooth it out and chop and scatter all the clippings. That added to my foot miles for the day.
Later in the afternoon, I reinstalled the new leg press. Donny had the attachment part redone and it is great. I mowed the back lawn and did some leg presses and leg extensions. It went something like this:
Leg extension
10 X 50
10 X 57.5
10 X 65
10 X 72.5
Leg press
10 X 50
10 X 75
10 X 95
10 X 115
8 X 130
I was pretty satisfied with that, but then I remembered the pool and decided to ride over to Twin Rivers. I got in at 7:00 pm and swam 1,200 meters. I was a little faster, a little smoother, and felt a little more confident about the shoulder. I am not well but better. I so enjoyed this swim and was so encouraged by it that when I climbed into the truck to drive home, I began to weep. Thank you, Jesus for giving me a swim and the joy of the water. I truly love it and have missed swimming like crazy. All the activity gave my mental health a huge boost.
Friday, August 11, 2017
Swummed Agin
I almost didn't get out of bed. My shoulder pained just a bit, enough to give me pause. Lying in bed and then discomfort invaded my wounded part. "Maybe that's God telling me to stay home," I thought. But then I got up anyway.
Yesterday, Thursday, I swam for the first time in weeks. It was only 400 meters, but the water felt great and being up kind of early and doing something always fives me a boost. Thursday afternoon, I did some work on Plate City Gym and yelped a few times. Not good. So as I lay thinking, I was wondering if I had set things back by my afternoon activities. To make a short story long, I dragged out of bed and went to the pool. I'm glad I did.
The swim was short, but the shoulder felt a little better than it did yesterday. Although I only totaled 700 meters, that almost doubled Thursday's output and the pace was a touch faster. Not that I am trying to swim fast. I am not. But swimming faster without effort shows I am on the road back. The pool time felt good, and I was content to take baby steps. On the ride back home I thought, "You better learn patience before God has to teach it to you." My aunt used to say that about humility. Humility and patience are tough lessons to learn. Maybe I haven't learned but at least I have a clue now.
John was supposed to meet me there at 6:30. he's been pushing me for a six-hour swim in September. Ain't gunna happen. Not this year. And yeah, you guessed it. When I left Twin Rivers he was not even in sight.
Thank you Jesus for a nice dip and a dash of new hope.
Yesterday, Thursday, I swam for the first time in weeks. It was only 400 meters, but the water felt great and being up kind of early and doing something always fives me a boost. Thursday afternoon, I did some work on Plate City Gym and yelped a few times. Not good. So as I lay thinking, I was wondering if I had set things back by my afternoon activities. To make a short story long, I dragged out of bed and went to the pool. I'm glad I did.
The swim was short, but the shoulder felt a little better than it did yesterday. Although I only totaled 700 meters, that almost doubled Thursday's output and the pace was a touch faster. Not that I am trying to swim fast. I am not. But swimming faster without effort shows I am on the road back. The pool time felt good, and I was content to take baby steps. On the ride back home I thought, "You better learn patience before God has to teach it to you." My aunt used to say that about humility. Humility and patience are tough lessons to learn. Maybe I haven't learned but at least I have a clue now.
John was supposed to meet me there at 6:30. he's been pushing me for a six-hour swim in September. Ain't gunna happen. Not this year. And yeah, you guessed it. When I left Twin Rivers he was not even in sight.
Thank you Jesus for a nice dip and a dash of new hope.
New Leg Press
 |
| The old leg press: wooden, rotten, bulky. |
The first thing I did was cut two pieces of 2 X 6 to mount the upright attachment on. After I did that and hooked it all to the power rack, I found out that my upright attachment piece was too wide for the leg press to bolt up to. That was my fault because I used a piece of non-standard wood that Trevor gave me. Trevor's piece was good wood, treated, and no doubt would have lasted for a decade or more. But I never thought to measure it ahead of time.
 |
| Trevor's piece was 5/8ths wider than a standard 4 X 4. |
 |
| Too close. |
 |
| The new machine. Ain't she pretty? |
Thursday, August 10, 2017
Swam (sort of)
A few weeks back a swam twice in one week. "Swam" being a contextual word as they all are. I did 500 and 700. Since my shoulder didn't seem to like that very much, I took a few more weeks off before trying it again this morning.
I went to Twin Rivers where I was supposed to meet John at 6:30. Of course he wasn't there and he called me after I had finished and gotten home already to tell me he was on the way. What else is new?
The water felt more than cool. August has yet to see 90 degrees, and it looks like it will not this year. That's unusual, but weather is like that. Besides being cool, we have had lots of clouds and lots of rain. I grieve that I missed swimming in some of the downpours because that is something I rarely get to do but enjoy immensely.
I swam 8 X 50 at an embarrassing pace. No one was there, not even the pool boys so I didn't have to suffer any embarrassment. The shoulder did not hurt, but I felt it a few times. I don't know what to make of that. It's not that I am surprised, it's that I don't know if I should push through or play it safe. I voted for play it safe and stopped after a mere 400. Tomorrow I plan to go back if I can drag out of bed again. John will once more be so late that I don't even see him there. So what?
I hope to get Plate City's new leg press machine today. That will give me a boost. Higher than average energy is always the byproduct of new equipment for the gym. Yesterday I did a little wood work in preparation for the long-awaited attachment. I didn't do all the work, but I did some of it. Soon I hope to get Trevor McClain to help me lay another set of concrete pads. After what those pads have done to me, the sight of one gives me the chills. A new leg press and a new row of blocks will be a considerable upgrade.
Praise God for upgrades. He offers them for the soul. Get yours today by making application through prayer.
I went to Twin Rivers where I was supposed to meet John at 6:30. Of course he wasn't there and he called me after I had finished and gotten home already to tell me he was on the way. What else is new?
The water felt more than cool. August has yet to see 90 degrees, and it looks like it will not this year. That's unusual, but weather is like that. Besides being cool, we have had lots of clouds and lots of rain. I grieve that I missed swimming in some of the downpours because that is something I rarely get to do but enjoy immensely.
I swam 8 X 50 at an embarrassing pace. No one was there, not even the pool boys so I didn't have to suffer any embarrassment. The shoulder did not hurt, but I felt it a few times. I don't know what to make of that. It's not that I am surprised, it's that I don't know if I should push through or play it safe. I voted for play it safe and stopped after a mere 400. Tomorrow I plan to go back if I can drag out of bed again. John will once more be so late that I don't even see him there. So what?
I hope to get Plate City's new leg press machine today. That will give me a boost. Higher than average energy is always the byproduct of new equipment for the gym. Yesterday I did a little wood work in preparation for the long-awaited attachment. I didn't do all the work, but I did some of it. Soon I hope to get Trevor McClain to help me lay another set of concrete pads. After what those pads have done to me, the sight of one gives me the chills. A new leg press and a new row of blocks will be a considerable upgrade.
Praise God for upgrades. He offers them for the soul. Get yours today by making application through prayer.
Wednesday, August 9, 2017
Shoulder
Finally I feel like my shoulder is healing. It is far from well, but it is improving to the point where I am doing things without yelping like a dog hit with a rock. I drilled a hole in a piece of wood today and the bit hung causing the drill to torque suddenly. i survived it without pain. Very soon I will take an exploratory swim.
Today I have been doing a little bit of stretching. Until now, the shoulder just didn't appreciate it. A couple of weeks ago I stretched some and it set me back a week or two. Mind you the stretching is very gentle, but to do any at all is a really major step, that is if I don't awake with a gimpy shoulder in the morning.
Speaking of in the morning, I am scheduled to meet John at Twin Rivers. Right now I am thinking 50s really slow with a rest on each wall. That's what I did the last time I swam several years ago, but since I have gone cold turkey in an effort to get well.
Besides hoping to swim a little, I have been walking regularly. I plan to start hitting the weights soon. Like tomorrow. I can't upper body lift yet, but Leflore Steel is supposed to have my latest addition to Plate City Gym ready Thursday. It is a leg press machine, and my shoulder won't be an impediment there. They have had the order for several months. I am on their Wait List, but at least I am on the list. As much work as they do, they could reasonably tell me they don't have time for small jobs like mine. They do good work, and it is always worth the wait.
Anticipation.
My zeal is coming back. Turn me loose, Lord, and let me train.
Today I have been doing a little bit of stretching. Until now, the shoulder just didn't appreciate it. A couple of weeks ago I stretched some and it set me back a week or two. Mind you the stretching is very gentle, but to do any at all is a really major step, that is if I don't awake with a gimpy shoulder in the morning.
Speaking of in the morning, I am scheduled to meet John at Twin Rivers. Right now I am thinking 50s really slow with a rest on each wall. That's what I did the last time I swam several years ago, but since I have gone cold turkey in an effort to get well.
Besides hoping to swim a little, I have been walking regularly. I plan to start hitting the weights soon. Like tomorrow. I can't upper body lift yet, but Leflore Steel is supposed to have my latest addition to Plate City Gym ready Thursday. It is a leg press machine, and my shoulder won't be an impediment there. They have had the order for several months. I am on their Wait List, but at least I am on the list. As much work as they do, they could reasonably tell me they don't have time for small jobs like mine. They do good work, and it is always worth the wait.
Anticipation.
My zeal is coming back. Turn me loose, Lord, and let me train.
How BBB Missed True Greatness
Did you get it?
What? you ask.
The answer.
What answer?
The answer to the question I posed in the last post.
What question?
Duh! I knew you wouldn't take it seriously. You'll wish you had.
What are you talking about?
I'm talking about my post on Bikes, Blues & Bayous and how I was writing about what I saw. Remember? I said I saw, well, I'll just give you the quotation below in bold and quotation marks:
"I saw 400 pound women, Tour de France looking teams, ragged bikes and bikers, ancient hippies, soccer moms, little kids, old men, people wearing flip flops, and riders dressed up like little Lord Fauntleroy. You see it all and you see a lot of it. I liked seeing it and being a part of the rolling party. Training be darned, I'm here and I am at the dance. But there was one thing missing, one thing I did not see. Try to figure it out."
Oh that.
Yeah that. Think about it right now because after I tell you you'll wish you had.
Yawn.
OK. You had your chance. Drum roll, I did not see Elvis.
Wow! I do wish I had thought about it. I should have guessed that.
You're not the only one. Let me now give you a little history on BBB that you are not familiar with. I was one of the founders of the event. It started when Brian Waldrop had the idea to do a triathlon in Greenwood, sponsored by Viking and ending in front of the Alluvian Hotel. He set the Money Road Cycling Club to task on coming up with the right course. To make a short story long, we tried and tried to come up with a suitable course. Nothing seemed to work. Then Richard Beatty suggested we simplify everything and do a bike ride. Bingo! But here is where the history, if you have read past written accounts, gets revised or at least a major element of it gets left out.
I was the one who had the idea to make Elvis a part of the whole thing. When the name Bikes, Blues & Bayous was suggested, I countered with Bikes, Blues, and Elvis. How could the club not jump on that? But somehow they failed to see how brilliant my idea was. If we had gone with my name, cyclists dressed as Elvis would be all over the road. And think of each rest stop having an Elvis impersonator. Think of Elvis singing hymns in the Minter City United Methodist Church. Oh snap! Think of Elvis at Money, gyrating all over the road. Think of Elvis in downtown Itta Bena, Elvis at the pickle juice fountain in Schlater. Elvis dancing on the catfish pond levees south of Schlater. Elvis on bicycles, Elvis at the finish line. You may not remember, but the last Elvis sighting around here was when he was seen hitchhiking on Highway 8 near Minter City. Wasn't that a sign from God?
With an Elvis theme, the numbers would easily be double what they are now. Not only that, but we would receive publicity from news teams across the country and the world even. Instead of the largest bicycle ride in Mississippi, we would be the biggest one in the America maybe even the whole world.
But people don't listen to me. That's why I like cats so much. They listen. CC knows I'm right. Luvie knows I'm right. Baby Kitty knows I'm right. But the Money Road Cycling Club? They can kiss my hinder parts. I mean it. I'm really ticked off, and the more I think about it the madder I get. Not only am I angry, but the whole thing hurts my feelings. I am so tired of being overlooked.
They not only messed the name up, but they also refused to listen to me about the Oxford comma. I'm the only English teacher in the whole bunch and Bikes, Blues & Bayous makes me shiver. Even if they were not going to include Elvis in the name, it should at least be Bikes, Blues, & Bayous. But all of this just reminds me of what I tell my students every day. "Don't major in English if you want to be happy." And to that I add, "Don't come to Bikes, Blues, & Bayous if you want to see Elvis." Despite all that, I'll probably ride again next year. After all, I get to spend time with my son and see 400 pound women. Anybody out there know where I can get an Elvis costume?
What? you ask.
The answer.
What answer?
The answer to the question I posed in the last post.
What question?
Duh! I knew you wouldn't take it seriously. You'll wish you had.
What are you talking about?
I'm talking about my post on Bikes, Blues & Bayous and how I was writing about what I saw. Remember? I said I saw, well, I'll just give you the quotation below in bold and quotation marks:
"I saw 400 pound women, Tour de France looking teams, ragged bikes and bikers, ancient hippies, soccer moms, little kids, old men, people wearing flip flops, and riders dressed up like little Lord Fauntleroy. You see it all and you see a lot of it. I liked seeing it and being a part of the rolling party. Training be darned, I'm here and I am at the dance. But there was one thing missing, one thing I did not see. Try to figure it out."
Oh that.
Yeah that. Think about it right now because after I tell you you'll wish you had.
Yawn.
OK. You had your chance. Drum roll, I did not see Elvis.
 |
| See, I told you there were 400 pound women out there. |
Wow! I do wish I had thought about it. I should have guessed that.
You're not the only one. Let me now give you a little history on BBB that you are not familiar with. I was one of the founders of the event. It started when Brian Waldrop had the idea to do a triathlon in Greenwood, sponsored by Viking and ending in front of the Alluvian Hotel. He set the Money Road Cycling Club to task on coming up with the right course. To make a short story long, we tried and tried to come up with a suitable course. Nothing seemed to work. Then Richard Beatty suggested we simplify everything and do a bike ride. Bingo! But here is where the history, if you have read past written accounts, gets revised or at least a major element of it gets left out.
 |
| Wouldn't he look better dressed as Elvis? |
With an Elvis theme, the numbers would easily be double what they are now. Not only that, but we would receive publicity from news teams across the country and the world even. Instead of the largest bicycle ride in Mississippi, we would be the biggest one in the America maybe even the whole world.
But people don't listen to me. That's why I like cats so much. They listen. CC knows I'm right. Luvie knows I'm right. Baby Kitty knows I'm right. But the Money Road Cycling Club? They can kiss my hinder parts. I mean it. I'm really ticked off, and the more I think about it the madder I get. Not only am I angry, but the whole thing hurts my feelings. I am so tired of being overlooked.
They not only messed the name up, but they also refused to listen to me about the Oxford comma. I'm the only English teacher in the whole bunch and Bikes, Blues & Bayous makes me shiver. Even if they were not going to include Elvis in the name, it should at least be Bikes, Blues, & Bayous. But all of this just reminds me of what I tell my students every day. "Don't major in English if you want to be happy." And to that I add, "Don't come to Bikes, Blues, & Bayous if you want to see Elvis." Despite all that, I'll probably ride again next year. After all, I get to spend time with my son and see 400 pound women. Anybody out there know where I can get an Elvis costume?
Tuesday, August 8, 2017
BBB 2017
I wasn't prepared and neither was my son Forrest, so we decided to ride together. Misery loves company. To get miserable, we signed up for the 46-mile route of the 2017 edition of Greenwood's Bikes, Blues & Bayous.
Last year, I was also not prepared either but I did the 62-mile tour. One big difference, however, was that in 2016 and I was 20 pounds lighter, one year younger, and had a 25 mile per week running base on my legs. That makes a difference. With running, you can at least turn the pedals. Not fast, maybe, but you can turn them. This time I had nothing to recommend to my mind or body that I could actually do this other than audacity which is the best part of adventure anyway. True, I had swum for 16 hours straight as recently as June 3. But since then I had injured a shoulder, was still nursing a gimpy knee, and had been out of the water for weeks. Furthermore, I had and gotten seriously fat. Besides all that, swimming conditions the body to swim, not to ride a bicycle.
For early August in the Mississippi Delta, the weather was about as good as it gets. Usually brutally hot, the first Saturday in August this year had a low-for-here dew point of 68 and a temperature of about 70 at start time. That might not sound radically lower-- dew points are usually 76 and temps 74 at 7:20 am-- it was enough of a difference to make the morning noticeably cooler than normal, pleasant feeling, and a light breeze made it as if God himself was smiling upon us and being merciful to the foolish among us of which I was chief.
With 1,094 riders, we felt like we were in another state rather than our humble home town on the Yazoo River. We heard the horn blow and began a slow motion lurch towards the starting arch. It took minutes for all the riders to mount and move enough for the road to open up to anything close to cycling speed. Rolling down Grand Blvd with all those riders is a glorious event. There are 400 pound women, Tour de France looking teams, ragged bikes and bikers, ancient hippies, soccer moms, little kids, old men, people wearing flip flops and riders dressed up like little Lord Fauntleroy. You see it all and you see a lot of it. I liked seeing it and being a part of the rolling party. Training be darned, I'm here and I am at the dance. But there was one thing missing, one thing I did not see. Try to figure it out. I will do another post on that and once I mention it, you will smite your palm to your forehead and cry "Duh!"
Money Road, which so often has seemed like an adversary to me on rides of bygone days, had a welcoming spirit as if God's own person hovered over giving us a tail wind amid the cotton, corn, and soybeans. Forrest and I made it to Money where the first rest stop has the atmosphere of Bourbon Street debauchery. Under the overhang of the old Ben Roy Service Station, within feet of the Emmett Till historical marker and the slowly crumbling Bryant's Grocery, were rows and rows of tables covered with the most sinful of foods a body could lust for. I found an abominable bowl of Oatmeal Creme Pie Cookies. I sinned without shame. We drank as if dying. We talked to strangers from far away: Colorado, Georgia, Alabama, even far off places in Mississippi. I saw old Money Road Cycling Club members Davo Pittman and Tom Flanagan. Then we were off again.
We rode and we noticed people. I saw a little boy of about eight years old. I watched him for a long time amazed that there was no helicopter parent around. He was alone on a small bike and he had come over twenty miles by the time we crossed over Highway 8 on our journey to Minter City. I took note of him from time to time. Both he and his parents showed great courage or maybe it was great awareness they showed. He is with cyclists. He is OK. Cyclists will help you and not harm you which has always made me wonder why car drivers hate us so much. Don't they see we are just nice guys and gals who like to play outside? His fitness was obviously as good as mine. I admired him. I saw a roller bladder pushing a wheel. What the heck? We passed the old Opera House in Minter City and then pulled up at the United Methodist Church.
There must have been 300 people there. Someone was giving tours of the Lord's house while people chatted in the shade, refilled water bottles, and feasted on some great sandwiches and cookies from a spread that looked more at home at a fancy wedding reception. A blues musician picked a guitar and sang. Bikes and bright jerseys covered an acre and a half like a strange crop of flowers growing from desert soil after a rare rain.
And then we started back again, back towards home back towards normalcy. Immediately we were hit with a head wind and Forrest's lack of training became apparent. He was riding a mountain bike probably requiring 15 or 20% more energy than me. I was OK at an easy pace, but if I tried to speed up from creeping slow to normal slow, my legs protested like liberals at a cop convention. Oddly, when we made it back to Money Road, we had our head wind turn into a crosswind and eventually a tailwind. That, my friend, is supernatural. You simply don't get a break from the wind on that road. Usually, you face a head wind both ways. No joke. God indeed was smiling upon us.
But Forrest was suffering, and we called one of the SAG vehicles. They were hauling some broken down cyclists back to town and it would be a while they tole us before they got back to us. "If we make it south of Money," Forrest told me, I will not get in the truck if I have to crawl back to town."
Our second stop at downtown Money was every bit as good as the first one. I ate cookies like a little boy left all alone in a cookie store. I drank like a sailor on shore leave after six months at sea. I saw fat people and like a Pharisee of old said to myself, "At least I'm not as fat as him."
Then Forrest wanted to go so we left. And slowly but surely we inched our way closer and closer to town. When the SAG vehicle drove past us, Forrest not only didn't wave them down, but commented that we were too close to quit. About the time it felt like my butt had been bitten off by tooth-challenged dogs, we crossed over the Tallahatchie Bridge, rolled gently the 1.1 miles to the Yazoo River Bridge, and then crossed over our Jordan into the promised land of the post-ride party. Music, tired riders, faithful volunteers, and food greeted us. It was the food I wanted although I didn't eat much. It had finally turned hot, and I was hungry and not hungry all together. If you have ever been really hungry and really hot at the same time, you know what I mean.
We rode home on hurting butts and aching legs. Forrest visited with his mother while I took a bath. Then he went home and I took a nap with CC. I can't wait till next year so I can suffer it all over again.
Last year, I was also not prepared either but I did the 62-mile tour. One big difference, however, was that in 2016 and I was 20 pounds lighter, one year younger, and had a 25 mile per week running base on my legs. That makes a difference. With running, you can at least turn the pedals. Not fast, maybe, but you can turn them. This time I had nothing to recommend to my mind or body that I could actually do this other than audacity which is the best part of adventure anyway. True, I had swum for 16 hours straight as recently as June 3. But since then I had injured a shoulder, was still nursing a gimpy knee, and had been out of the water for weeks. Furthermore, I had and gotten seriously fat. Besides all that, swimming conditions the body to swim, not to ride a bicycle.
For early August in the Mississippi Delta, the weather was about as good as it gets. Usually brutally hot, the first Saturday in August this year had a low-for-here dew point of 68 and a temperature of about 70 at start time. That might not sound radically lower-- dew points are usually 76 and temps 74 at 7:20 am-- it was enough of a difference to make the morning noticeably cooler than normal, pleasant feeling, and a light breeze made it as if God himself was smiling upon us and being merciful to the foolish among us of which I was chief.
With 1,094 riders, we felt like we were in another state rather than our humble home town on the Yazoo River. We heard the horn blow and began a slow motion lurch towards the starting arch. It took minutes for all the riders to mount and move enough for the road to open up to anything close to cycling speed. Rolling down Grand Blvd with all those riders is a glorious event. There are 400 pound women, Tour de France looking teams, ragged bikes and bikers, ancient hippies, soccer moms, little kids, old men, people wearing flip flops and riders dressed up like little Lord Fauntleroy. You see it all and you see a lot of it. I liked seeing it and being a part of the rolling party. Training be darned, I'm here and I am at the dance. But there was one thing missing, one thing I did not see. Try to figure it out. I will do another post on that and once I mention it, you will smite your palm to your forehead and cry "Duh!"
Money Road, which so often has seemed like an adversary to me on rides of bygone days, had a welcoming spirit as if God's own person hovered over giving us a tail wind amid the cotton, corn, and soybeans. Forrest and I made it to Money where the first rest stop has the atmosphere of Bourbon Street debauchery. Under the overhang of the old Ben Roy Service Station, within feet of the Emmett Till historical marker and the slowly crumbling Bryant's Grocery, were rows and rows of tables covered with the most sinful of foods a body could lust for. I found an abominable bowl of Oatmeal Creme Pie Cookies. I sinned without shame. We drank as if dying. We talked to strangers from far away: Colorado, Georgia, Alabama, even far off places in Mississippi. I saw old Money Road Cycling Club members Davo Pittman and Tom Flanagan. Then we were off again.
We rode and we noticed people. I saw a little boy of about eight years old. I watched him for a long time amazed that there was no helicopter parent around. He was alone on a small bike and he had come over twenty miles by the time we crossed over Highway 8 on our journey to Minter City. I took note of him from time to time. Both he and his parents showed great courage or maybe it was great awareness they showed. He is with cyclists. He is OK. Cyclists will help you and not harm you which has always made me wonder why car drivers hate us so much. Don't they see we are just nice guys and gals who like to play outside? His fitness was obviously as good as mine. I admired him. I saw a roller bladder pushing a wheel. What the heck? We passed the old Opera House in Minter City and then pulled up at the United Methodist Church.
There must have been 300 people there. Someone was giving tours of the Lord's house while people chatted in the shade, refilled water bottles, and feasted on some great sandwiches and cookies from a spread that looked more at home at a fancy wedding reception. A blues musician picked a guitar and sang. Bikes and bright jerseys covered an acre and a half like a strange crop of flowers growing from desert soil after a rare rain.
And then we started back again, back towards home back towards normalcy. Immediately we were hit with a head wind and Forrest's lack of training became apparent. He was riding a mountain bike probably requiring 15 or 20% more energy than me. I was OK at an easy pace, but if I tried to speed up from creeping slow to normal slow, my legs protested like liberals at a cop convention. Oddly, when we made it back to Money Road, we had our head wind turn into a crosswind and eventually a tailwind. That, my friend, is supernatural. You simply don't get a break from the wind on that road. Usually, you face a head wind both ways. No joke. God indeed was smiling upon us.
But Forrest was suffering, and we called one of the SAG vehicles. They were hauling some broken down cyclists back to town and it would be a while they tole us before they got back to us. "If we make it south of Money," Forrest told me, I will not get in the truck if I have to crawl back to town."
Our second stop at downtown Money was every bit as good as the first one. I ate cookies like a little boy left all alone in a cookie store. I drank like a sailor on shore leave after six months at sea. I saw fat people and like a Pharisee of old said to myself, "At least I'm not as fat as him."
Then Forrest wanted to go so we left. And slowly but surely we inched our way closer and closer to town. When the SAG vehicle drove past us, Forrest not only didn't wave them down, but commented that we were too close to quit. About the time it felt like my butt had been bitten off by tooth-challenged dogs, we crossed over the Tallahatchie Bridge, rolled gently the 1.1 miles to the Yazoo River Bridge, and then crossed over our Jordan into the promised land of the post-ride party. Music, tired riders, faithful volunteers, and food greeted us. It was the food I wanted although I didn't eat much. It had finally turned hot, and I was hungry and not hungry all together. If you have ever been really hungry and really hot at the same time, you know what I mean.
We rode home on hurting butts and aching legs. Forrest visited with his mother while I took a bath. Then he went home and I took a nap with CC. I can't wait till next year so I can suffer it all over again.
Monday, August 7, 2017
7/31 - 8/6
I almost trained some last week. Almost. Next week the goal is to actually train a little. Monday I took a long walk of 5.51 miles with a few steps of shuffling thrown in. Slowly I am beginning to believe I will regain the ability to do at least some shuffling somewhere out there in the future. I need to shuffle to lose weight and I need to lose weight for my health. I also need to restart my weight training. Although I can't do upper body work right now, I can do lower body lifting, and Donny at Leflore Steel is supposed to have my next machine ready in a day or two. That machine will give me an emotional boost and restart some lifting. It is a leg press attachment that pins into my power rack complex. I am hoping to lay another set of blocks and set up the bike trainer, leg press machine, and the extension bench and do some serious circuit training for my legs. That is the hope, the plan.
Tuesday I worked in the yard some and walked 1.01 miles while mowing grass and pulling weeds. Wednesday I did another longish walk this time going 6.2 miles with a couple of shuffles thrown in. One shuffle lasted an entire 70 steps. I also worked in the yard and got in another .67 miles for a total of 6.87 for the day.
Thursday I didn't do anything, and I don't remember why. Friday I walked 1.11 in the yard, and Saturday was the 2017 Bikes, Blues & Bayous. Being overweight and out of shape, Forrest and I settled for the 46-miler. With the ride to and from and some turn backs on the course, I pedaled 49.77 miles. That's a good start to some better fitness. Our packets contained some information on several rides in the fall. I hope to prepare a bit and do some rides with my son.
Sunday night I took a short walk. I usually don't do anything on Sundays but go to church and nap. This time, however, I was so overblown with food that I had to move my body a little. We had homecoming and of course I ate way too much. It's awfully hard not to because there is a lot of food, it is well prepared, and the occasion is one of eat, drink, and be merry. It's more temptation than I can endure.
For the week, I did no weightlifting and no swimming. I did walk 16.57 miles and cycled 49.77. That's a start.
Praise God for giving me hope. My goal is to try to swim later this week, continue walking, and cycle some.
Tuesday I worked in the yard some and walked 1.01 miles while mowing grass and pulling weeds. Wednesday I did another longish walk this time going 6.2 miles with a couple of shuffles thrown in. One shuffle lasted an entire 70 steps. I also worked in the yard and got in another .67 miles for a total of 6.87 for the day.
Thursday I didn't do anything, and I don't remember why. Friday I walked 1.11 in the yard, and Saturday was the 2017 Bikes, Blues & Bayous. Being overweight and out of shape, Forrest and I settled for the 46-miler. With the ride to and from and some turn backs on the course, I pedaled 49.77 miles. That's a good start to some better fitness. Our packets contained some information on several rides in the fall. I hope to prepare a bit and do some rides with my son.
Sunday night I took a short walk. I usually don't do anything on Sundays but go to church and nap. This time, however, I was so overblown with food that I had to move my body a little. We had homecoming and of course I ate way too much. It's awfully hard not to because there is a lot of food, it is well prepared, and the occasion is one of eat, drink, and be merry. It's more temptation than I can endure.
For the week, I did no weightlifting and no swimming. I did walk 16.57 miles and cycled 49.77. That's a start.
Praise God for giving me hope. My goal is to try to swim later this week, continue walking, and cycle some.
Tuesday, August 1, 2017
7/24 - 7/30
If I don't start training, I will have to cease this weekly update. Monday I went to the pool and although I had swum a touch the week before, I was unable so do it. I swam 125 and tapped out. It was the same pain only a little worse.
Wednesday I walked 1.09 miles while mowing the lawn.
Thursday I walked 4.07 in the heat. Now that is a little bit.
Friday I even beat that and walked 4.3 and pushed it some. But that was it, a pretty miserable week of doing little and eating much. I'm really struggling. Prayers appreciated.
Thank you Lord, anyway.
Wednesday I walked 1.09 miles while mowing the lawn.
Thursday I walked 4.07 in the heat. Now that is a little bit.
Friday I even beat that and walked 4.3 and pushed it some. But that was it, a pretty miserable week of doing little and eating much. I'm really struggling. Prayers appreciated.
Thank you Lord, anyway.
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