I started back training Monday after a week in bed and I could tell the flu, or whatever I had, really kicked my hinder parts pretty hard. In order to stay out of the wind and cold, I did a short 1.55 mile shuffle on the treadmill. Although I felt pretty bad all day, amazingly I felt better after the effort. That would be the pattern of the week. I didn't feel like doing anything, but when I did it seemed to boost my body up a notch or two.
Tuesday I didn't try to run but saved it all for the pool, which was cold, very cold. I swam 4,100 yards. I had time to do a lot more, but I was still in the fear mode of overdoing it and relapsing.
Wednesday I again stayed out of the wind and shuffled 2.3 on the dreadmill. I'm not crazy about a treadmill, but it is really nice to have one for times of bad weather or coming back from an illness. The cold and wet, windy weather seemed to threaten further illness, promise it.
Thursday I once more had more time than energy and health at DSU. I swam 5,700 yards. Friday, I went out not really knowing how far I was going to run. I did 8.25 with some multi-pacing. My condition is off and I was wiped out after the run, but at least I stopped the slide.
Saturday I did a short 2.3 mile outdoor run and some light upper body weightlifting. I have been off the weights for two weeks, so the lead I had there is gone.
Since my running has been so bad, I decided on a rare Sunday shuffle. I only did 1.79 miles, but that is more than I usually do. I am even thinking about starting a streak. Even before I got sick, my running took a nose-dive. I want to get it back.
For the week, I
ran 16.19 miles,
swam 8,956 meters,
lifted weights once, and
walked 2.08 miles.
Not too bad for coming off a fifteen year illness. What I mean by that is, that was the sickest I have been in fifteen years. And before that it was another fifteen years ago that I was so ill. Thus I am calling it a fifteen year sickness.
Monday, February 29, 2016
Friday, February 26, 2016
Thursday Practice
I'm still recovering from my illness and feeling a little better each day. I'm not yet back to full beast mode, but I did up the yardage Thursday over what I did Tuesday when I swam a paltry 4,100. I got in early enough to have a long warm up and then the set was 6 X 500. Thank you, Cagri. That's the kind of swimming I need. We were to do them by twos (pull and paddles, paddles, swim) with :20 rest. I started right away. The practice looked like this:
2,000 36:43 (1:49)
500 7:32 (1:30)
500 7:30 (1:31)
500 7:51 (1:33)
500 7:54 (1:34)
550 9:18 (1:41)
600 10:17 (1:42)
550 (Ricky's last one, number seven for me)
total: 5,700 yards.
Like Tuesday, I had plenty of time left on the clock, but I still suffer some fear of relapsing so I quit. It was only 7:42 when I got out. Maybe next week I can stay in at least until 8:30, and start back lifting weights. I lifted nothing the last two weeks but a fork and precious little of that. My appetite is slowly returning. That's pretty unusual for me not to eat heartily even when ill.
2,000 36:43 (1:49)
500 7:32 (1:30)
500 7:30 (1:31)
500 7:51 (1:33)
500 7:54 (1:34)
550 9:18 (1:41)
600 10:17 (1:42)
550 (Ricky's last one, number seven for me)
total: 5,700 yards.
Like Tuesday, I had plenty of time left on the clock, but I still suffer some fear of relapsing so I quit. It was only 7:42 when I got out. Maybe next week I can stay in at least until 8:30, and start back lifting weights. I lifted nothing the last two weeks but a fork and precious little of that. My appetite is slowly returning. That's pretty unusual for me not to eat heartily even when ill.
Thursday, February 25, 2016
Tuesday Night Practice
I was on pins and needles all day. After looking back at last year's training diary and seeing that we missed this Tuesday a year ago after missing the whole week before that, I was afraid history would repeat itself. The weather was stormy, and I feared Cagri might cancel practice. Things are getting tight, and I really am worried about the Chicot Challenge. A week in bed has me week as water and wondering if I will be able to build the fitness I need to swim twenty-one miles.
I did not push to get in too early because I feared becoming too tired. I swam 1,100 for a warm up, which is a lot less than I normally do. Then we did 8 X 50 before starting the main set. It all looks like this:
1,100
8 X 50 @ 1:50 decline 1-4
25
50
75
100
200
300
400
300
200
100
100 (with Ricky)
75
50
25
600 cool down
total: 4,100 yards = 3,747 meters.
I left a lot of time on the clock. There was easily time enough to swim another 2,000, but it didn't seem wise to push that hard after being that sick, so I got out and went home. Maybe I can do more Thursday.
I did not push to get in too early because I feared becoming too tired. I swam 1,100 for a warm up, which is a lot less than I normally do. Then we did 8 X 50 before starting the main set. It all looks like this:
1,100
8 X 50 @ 1:50 decline 1-4
25
50
75
100
200
300
400
300
200
100
100 (with Ricky)
75
50
25
600 cool down
total: 4,100 yards = 3,747 meters.
I left a lot of time on the clock. There was easily time enough to swim another 2,000, but it didn't seem wise to push that hard after being that sick, so I got out and went home. Maybe I can do more Thursday.
Wednesday, February 24, 2016
The Diabetes Foundation of Mississippi
All my life I have been linked to the underdog, the overlooked, the un- or under appreciated. I had the fortune, or misfortune, of being raised in a Mississippi State household. A few years back, I attempted to divorce myself from the program. My degrees are from elsewhere. I don't have to pull for them. I'm an adult; I can make my own allegiances, I thought. But alas, the bond was too deep, too strong, too familial based and it held even against my will. We haven't an abundance of success on the football field. The five weeks we spent atop the college football rankings a couple of years back were like a dream, and I was glad then that the bond had been unbreakable. I wished over and over during that time that Dad were to walk on cloud nine with us.
When I started teaching, it was for a small, underdog school, North Sunflower Academy, situated in the midst of the blighted delta and whose football team had not won a game in a couple of years. The state I live in, Mississippi, is ranked last in all or most of the good things of American society and first in many of the bad. The part Mississippi where my wife and I reside is the poorest, fattest, least healthy and most violent of the state. The church I pastored for twenty-three years was also and underdog, invisible to our own denomination as was the denomination itself to the area I pastored. It's just my lot in life, I suppose, to be with the underdog, the unnoticed, the unappreciated. I can take it. I won't argue with God anymore. Not on this topic.
When I started the Chicot Challenge in 2012, I raised money for the American Diabetes Association, a charity well-respected, well-known, and many are willing to support. Between year one and year two of the Challenge, however, I switched allegiance to a charity more in line with the tenor of my life: the Diabetes Foundation of Mississippi.
As a composition teacher for a community college here in the Delta, I have my students write multiple papers on diabetes related topics. I always ask each class two questions. 1) Have you ever heard of the American Diabetes Association? 2) Have you ever heard of the Diabetes Foundation of Mississippi? The answer to the first question is always yes, 100% of the time. The answer to the second query is almost always no. What else is new?
I call them, the Diabetes Foundation of Mississippi, the best charity no one ever heard of. If you live in Mississippi and want to support an organization that does work on this disease, they are the best choice by far. Let me tell you a few of the reasons they are.
First, they are our charity and we have the greatest need right here at home. When I raised money for the ADA, I mailed the funds to Alexandria, Virginia. I doubt Mississippi ever saw a penny of that money. Mississippi has long been the fattest state in the nation, a major risk factor for the development of Type 2 Diabetes. We have severe health issues here in the Magnolia State and all of them, obesity, blood pressure, heart disease, kidney disease, and cancer, are worse here in the Delta than in the rest of our impoverished state. Our little piece of homeland lies in desperate need of a health intervention.
Some of us have been attempting that intervention. John Pace, for instance, works tirelessly to promote healthy living and raise awareness of diabetes and funds for the DFM. He does this through his Team John Boy that promotes healthy living and raises funds for several charities one of which is the DFM. Dr. Joseph Assini, a podiatrist with the Greenwood Leflore Hospital has put tremendous effort into providing diabetes education programs at the hospital, going on a personal but public weight loss program on Good Morning Mississippi, and speaking each semester to my Comp I classes at MDCC. Forrest Hodge recently completed his 30-30-30 run for Diabetes, the concept which was to encourage thirty people to give thirty dollars each while he ran thirty miles to celebrate his thirtieth birthday. The effort succeed beyond his wildest hopes. And the Chicot Challenge, my solo charity swim, falls in line with these other efforts in seeking to draw attention to our diabetes problem, the people who are addressing it, and funds for our diabetes charity. But I do digress a bit.
As our charity, 100% of any funds donating to the DFM stay in the state of Mississippi. Not only that, but 84% of every donated dollar goes to the charitable purpose. That's pretty good, and if you don't believe it, check them out at CharityNavigators. In short, the DFM is efficient in addressing diabetes right here at home. But what do they do with those funds raised for them?
They work tirelessly in the area of education. Irena McClean, for instance, travels the state speaking to nurses and school officials teaching them about the disease and how to deal with diabetic students. Not only is education to schools a prime focus of theirs, but twice a year they hold Camp Kandu, which brings together the state's Type I kids to give then fellowship and education on how to live successfully with their condition. While the children are being taught, so are the parents.
Diabetic supplies is another area of their service. When a child is diagnosed with diabetes in a Mississippi hospital, the DFM are the first-repsonders, showing up with a backpack full of educational materials and diabetic supplies. When a diabetic is having difficulty purchasing his or her needed medications, guess who will help. I actually know someone who asked them for assistance, and they came though for him.
Recently, this all-star organization has begun purchasing diabetic dogs for Type 1 kids. I went to high school with a girl whose niece received one of these potentially life-saving canines. These well-trained dogs can actually smell a drop in their owner's blood sugar and alert the patient to the need for medical action.
Research, you ask? Yes, they support ongoing research at the University Medical Center in Jackson, Mississippi. Go to their website: msdiabetes.org and see the many other ways they seek to educate, advocate, and assist people in Mississippi who suffer from this affliction at a rate disproportionate with the rest of the US.
Just this past Saturday, the DFM held their annual Super Conference, a gathering of diabetes activists, experts, and patients for more education. I'm not sure what all they do there since I have never been. I was invited this year as was my son Forrest. I was in bed, ill. Forrest attended. They honored him with an award of recognition. They sent me one too.
When I started teaching, it was for a small, underdog school, North Sunflower Academy, situated in the midst of the blighted delta and whose football team had not won a game in a couple of years. The state I live in, Mississippi, is ranked last in all or most of the good things of American society and first in many of the bad. The part Mississippi where my wife and I reside is the poorest, fattest, least healthy and most violent of the state. The church I pastored for twenty-three years was also and underdog, invisible to our own denomination as was the denomination itself to the area I pastored. It's just my lot in life, I suppose, to be with the underdog, the unnoticed, the unappreciated. I can take it. I won't argue with God anymore. Not on this topic.
When I started the Chicot Challenge in 2012, I raised money for the American Diabetes Association, a charity well-respected, well-known, and many are willing to support. Between year one and year two of the Challenge, however, I switched allegiance to a charity more in line with the tenor of my life: the Diabetes Foundation of Mississippi.
As a composition teacher for a community college here in the Delta, I have my students write multiple papers on diabetes related topics. I always ask each class two questions. 1) Have you ever heard of the American Diabetes Association? 2) Have you ever heard of the Diabetes Foundation of Mississippi? The answer to the first question is always yes, 100% of the time. The answer to the second query is almost always no. What else is new?
I call them, the Diabetes Foundation of Mississippi, the best charity no one ever heard of. If you live in Mississippi and want to support an organization that does work on this disease, they are the best choice by far. Let me tell you a few of the reasons they are.
First, they are our charity and we have the greatest need right here at home. When I raised money for the ADA, I mailed the funds to Alexandria, Virginia. I doubt Mississippi ever saw a penny of that money. Mississippi has long been the fattest state in the nation, a major risk factor for the development of Type 2 Diabetes. We have severe health issues here in the Magnolia State and all of them, obesity, blood pressure, heart disease, kidney disease, and cancer, are worse here in the Delta than in the rest of our impoverished state. Our little piece of homeland lies in desperate need of a health intervention.
Some of us have been attempting that intervention. John Pace, for instance, works tirelessly to promote healthy living and raise awareness of diabetes and funds for the DFM. He does this through his Team John Boy that promotes healthy living and raises funds for several charities one of which is the DFM. Dr. Joseph Assini, a podiatrist with the Greenwood Leflore Hospital has put tremendous effort into providing diabetes education programs at the hospital, going on a personal but public weight loss program on Good Morning Mississippi, and speaking each semester to my Comp I classes at MDCC. Forrest Hodge recently completed his 30-30-30 run for Diabetes, the concept which was to encourage thirty people to give thirty dollars each while he ran thirty miles to celebrate his thirtieth birthday. The effort succeed beyond his wildest hopes. And the Chicot Challenge, my solo charity swim, falls in line with these other efforts in seeking to draw attention to our diabetes problem, the people who are addressing it, and funds for our diabetes charity. But I do digress a bit.
As our charity, 100% of any funds donating to the DFM stay in the state of Mississippi. Not only that, but 84% of every donated dollar goes to the charitable purpose. That's pretty good, and if you don't believe it, check them out at CharityNavigators. In short, the DFM is efficient in addressing diabetes right here at home. But what do they do with those funds raised for them?
They work tirelessly in the area of education. Irena McClean, for instance, travels the state speaking to nurses and school officials teaching them about the disease and how to deal with diabetic students. Not only is education to schools a prime focus of theirs, but twice a year they hold Camp Kandu, which brings together the state's Type I kids to give then fellowship and education on how to live successfully with their condition. While the children are being taught, so are the parents.
Diabetic supplies is another area of their service. When a child is diagnosed with diabetes in a Mississippi hospital, the DFM are the first-repsonders, showing up with a backpack full of educational materials and diabetic supplies. When a diabetic is having difficulty purchasing his or her needed medications, guess who will help. I actually know someone who asked them for assistance, and they came though for him.
Recently, this all-star organization has begun purchasing diabetic dogs for Type 1 kids. I went to high school with a girl whose niece received one of these potentially life-saving canines. These well-trained dogs can actually smell a drop in their owner's blood sugar and alert the patient to the need for medical action.
Research, you ask? Yes, they support ongoing research at the University Medical Center in Jackson, Mississippi. Go to their website: msdiabetes.org and see the many other ways they seek to educate, advocate, and assist people in Mississippi who suffer from this affliction at a rate disproportionate with the rest of the US.
Just this past Saturday, the DFM held their annual Super Conference, a gathering of diabetes activists, experts, and patients for more education. I'm not sure what all they do there since I have never been. I was invited this year as was my son Forrest. I was in bed, ill. Forrest attended. They honored him with an award of recognition. They sent me one too.
 |
| From left to right: Dr. Carlton, President of the DFM Board; Forrest; Mary Fortune, Executive Vice President of the DFM. |
 |
| Me, the award, and Buddy Bones. |
Monday, February 22, 2016
1/15 - 1/21
Last week, 1/15 - 1/21, is the one I thought would get me caught up with last year because then we missed both Masters practices due to inclement weather and a swim meet at DSU. In fact, we even missed the next Tuesday also making it three straight practices that were cancelled.
Let me back up and give you a quick rundown on how I got to the week of hope only to see it come crashing down on my sore head. On Monday 15th, I donated blood. Five days later I ran the Mississippi River Marathon. My performance was dreadful. Scarcely forty-eight hours later, I was sick and in bed. Cause/effect? It's hard not to draw that conclusion, but the fact is I really do not know.
So one week after the blood donation and three days after the marathon, I shuffled 3.15 miles on the treadmill. An hour or so later, and I was running fever. I went to work Tuesday and met my classed, but left a little early and went to bed where I remained that day and night. I stayed in bed all day Wednesday. I stayed in bed all day Thursday. Friday afternoon, I walked 1.0 on the treadmill @ 20:00 per mile. Other than that, I was in bed all day. Saturday afternoon, I took Jeff to recycle. We walked 1.13 miles. Other than that, you guessed it, in bed all day long. Sunday, three guesses. I did walk a little bit on the treadmill and shuffled two tenths of a mile. Besides that, I stayed in bed almost all day.
So for the week, I
ran 3.35 miles and
walked 3.45 miles.
That's it. No weightlifting and no swimming.
Sigh.
Let me back up and give you a quick rundown on how I got to the week of hope only to see it come crashing down on my sore head. On Monday 15th, I donated blood. Five days later I ran the Mississippi River Marathon. My performance was dreadful. Scarcely forty-eight hours later, I was sick and in bed. Cause/effect? It's hard not to draw that conclusion, but the fact is I really do not know.
So one week after the blood donation and three days after the marathon, I shuffled 3.15 miles on the treadmill. An hour or so later, and I was running fever. I went to work Tuesday and met my classed, but left a little early and went to bed where I remained that day and night. I stayed in bed all day Wednesday. I stayed in bed all day Thursday. Friday afternoon, I walked 1.0 on the treadmill @ 20:00 per mile. Other than that, I was in bed all day. Saturday afternoon, I took Jeff to recycle. We walked 1.13 miles. Other than that, you guessed it, in bed all day long. Sunday, three guesses. I did walk a little bit on the treadmill and shuffled two tenths of a mile. Besides that, I stayed in bed almost all day.
So for the week, I
ran 3.35 miles and
walked 3.45 miles.
That's it. No weightlifting and no swimming.
Sigh.
Friday, February 19, 2016
I Could Care Less
I've been watching too much TV. That's what happens when you stay home sick. I flipped the channel yesterday just in time to catch Marcus Spears and Paul Finebaum talking about "I could care less" vs "I couldn't care less." I've been bumping into this too much lately.
Listen, no one is more attuned to correctness than I am. As an English major and a teacher who constantly tells his students not to major in English if they want to be happy, I know what it's like to gnash the teeth over rule-less speech. Seriously. Language abuses drive me crazy.
I honestly think I should be appointed Language Czar of the United States. I could straighten things up in a hurry. For one, I could settle the national dept in less than a year if the president would only give me the office and the power. To start with, I would fine any broadcaster $1,000 for any use of the useless phrase "going forward." Paul Finebaum alone would have to cough up a $100,000 per episode. That's just the beginning of what I would do.
But rest assured, I possess the credentials to be America's first Language Czar. Having studying ten foreign languages, having earned four degrees, and making my living as a college English Instructor, I know the difference between a preposition and a proposition.
Be that as it may, I'll cut straight to the chase. Concerning the "I could care less" vs "I couldn't care less," debate: what part of idiom do people not understand? Furthermore, what part of sarcasm do people not understand? What part of concision do people not understand? It takesless fewer syllables to say, "I could care less," that to say, "I could not care less" (See what I did there?).
So there you have it. It is not only OK to say I could care less, it is actually the preferable way to do it. So have fun caring less, and help me get appointed Language Czar. As Czar, I could prevent ahead of time before it happens a lot of things from coming to pass in the future going forward.
Listen, no one is more attuned to correctness than I am. As an English major and a teacher who constantly tells his students not to major in English if they want to be happy, I know what it's like to gnash the teeth over rule-less speech. Seriously. Language abuses drive me crazy.
I honestly think I should be appointed Language Czar of the United States. I could straighten things up in a hurry. For one, I could settle the national dept in less than a year if the president would only give me the office and the power. To start with, I would fine any broadcaster $1,000 for any use of the useless phrase "going forward." Paul Finebaum alone would have to cough up a $100,000 per episode. That's just the beginning of what I would do.
But rest assured, I possess the credentials to be America's first Language Czar. Having studying ten foreign languages, having earned four degrees, and making my living as a college English Instructor, I know the difference between a preposition and a proposition.
Be that as it may, I'll cut straight to the chase. Concerning the "I could care less" vs "I couldn't care less," debate: what part of idiom do people not understand? Furthermore, what part of sarcasm do people not understand? What part of concision do people not understand? It takes
So there you have it. It is not only OK to say I could care less, it is actually the preferable way to do it. So have fun caring less, and help me get appointed Language Czar. As Czar, I could prevent ahead of time before it happens a lot of things from coming to pass in the future going forward.
Thursday, February 18, 2016
The Mississippi River Marathon
 |
| Forrest and I on the shuttle bus |
We, the Mississippi River Marathon fullers (as opposed to the halfers), crawled out of the shuttle buses that had ported us from downtown Greenville, Mississippi, to somewhere near upper Lake Chicot north of Lake Village, Arkansas. We headed first for the ditch on the far side of the field where we peed without shame. Yes, there were porta-potties on site, but the lines were long and the guys used the freedom God gave us to add some sodium to the soil. Then we made our way to the fires to protect ourselves from the cold. I talked to a guy from Kansas, a dude from Missouri, and a young man from Florida.
The day was Saturday, and the date was February 13, 2016. It was so cold and the wind so strong that comfort was a mere wish. We were about to run 26.2 miles back to downtown Greenville if the race director could convince us to leave the fires and make our way to the starting line. He asked, cajoled, and pleaded with us. Finally, with only minutes to spare, we braved the windy cold and toed the line and tenth of a mile away. When he said go, we went glad to be moving to generate some body heat.
We ran across the causeway bridge and then took a left turn beside the lake where we stayed for the next six miles. The race route then directed us to Highway 82 for the next seven miles which brought us to the foot of the Mississippi River Bridge. When we made that first turn, we had the wind to our backs, which made things much more comfortable. Gradually, however, the lake and the road that follows it turns and by mile nine, we were getting the wind straight into our teeth.
From the very start I was breathing harder than I should have been. Blood donation? I think. My pace held at 10:30 for three miles and then it gradually slowed. I knew pretty early that it was going to be a tough day. And thank God for all the porta-potties. I used them five times. Hear that people? Five times. And I got over this hydration mania years ago.
 |
| The Mississippi River from the top of the bridge |
I had early given up the idea of beating my son, Forrest. I just let him go and concentrated on finishing this thing. As the miles added up and the pace continued to slow I started looking for a fat lady. When I came out of the porta-potty at miles fifteen, I saw here. Or at least I thought I did.
She was about 6'2" and had a butt as wide as a car door. She had passed me when I was in the potty so I fixed my sight on her massive rear end and tried to real her in. Slowly I drew closer and closer until I was close enough to see she was not a fat lady but a fat man. He fought back when I tried to pass, so I just took my time and when he stopped at the sixteen-mile aid station, I went around as fast as a three-legged turtle. That'll show him.
We were on Highway 1 at this point and the course goes for miles straight up that highway and into that wind that ground us and ground us and challenged our wills. At nineteen miles I saw Forrest up ahead. When I drew near he said, "My leg is screwed up." My heart went out to him. I know what it is like to walk in with a damaged body when you just want to run.
At 20.5 the course turns off the highway and into a really nice neighborhood. There was a potty at mile twenty-one and I stopped. When I came out, my legs were screaming at me. I began to walk for the first time and guess what happened then. Yeah, the fat lady, I mean fat man passed me and I was so beaten down I didn't even care. I shuffled and walked until I finally crossed the line in 5:42 (14:58). Forrest walked in later at 6:07. He was not happy. He did not want to talk. I understood.
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