I guess my last post was a bit misleading. I didn’t mean to come off as saying that there was a lot that I believe I should change about myself, especially that there is anything wrong with me. By reading it again I can see why people might draw this conclusion but this is far from the truth. I don’t think there is anything wrong with me, but I do believe there’s always room for improvement.
Continuous improvement is the best way to make one self better over the years and not become stagnant. I always find elements of others that I think are good traits and try to incorporate them into my own life, and if I notice something someone else does that bothers me, as well as others, and I see myself exhibiting that same behavior I try to eliminate it from my daily operations.
It goes along the line of my belief in personal capital. It’s sort of like money capital, but less tangible and it can’t really buy you anything. It’s the reason I work out, it’s the reason I try to make myself better than my former self. I never compare myself to anyone because the only person I want to be better than is my old self. I try to push my own limits as much as possible to find new levels that I didn’t realize I could reach.
The best thing I learned as a child was that I will never be perfect. I will never be the best. It’s not bad to know because it makes you work that much harder to set the bar ever higher for yourself. I want to achieve because I want it, not because I’m trying to be better or more perfect than anyone else. Rome was once the most powerful city-state in the world then got lazy and collapsed. I don’t want to get lazy.
Sometimes I fail at pushing myself all the way, but I’m only human. Trying to completely eliminate laziness has proven to be like trying to hunt down Moby Dick. Bambi is a lot easier to catch than a whale, but in due time this may be gone too. Although it might be a good idea to go ahead and let the white whale go since you can’t always be 100%...
Monday, December 27, 2010
Monday, December 20, 2010
You're Mine Bambi
I never realized how many things I didn’t know about myself until someone started challenging me to think about it. I think being in the Middle East acted as a catalyst, causing me to look more into myself than I normally would have. But to have someone who continues to push me is so valuable.
I’ve always believed that if there is something you want to change about yourself you can as long as you put your mind to it. Once you have a desire to change, you start making steps toward that change and next thing you know you can’t remember a time you didn’t think that way. But the most difficult part is that first step. It’s like weight lifting. The first rep is always the hardest. Then you start getting into the rhythm and next thing you know you’ve lost count.
Studying myself has been something I’ve found to be very difficult. When I’m in the middle of thinking a certain way it’s difficult to pull away from the situation and analyze the reasoning behind it. Personally, I get a bit of tunnel vision, and the fact that I hate to change, even the way I’m thinking, doesn’t help my cause. But that first time you realize you’re doing something really stupid you start forcing yourself to notice and once you start seeing the same thought patterns over and over you realize that maybe it’s a problem.
Hello, my name is Jeff Fu and I have a problem. I can’t pin point the reasons why I think certain things. I don’t take the time to think about it and I don’t take the steps to stop those negative thoughts that cloud my mind. The coincidental convenience here is that this post is coming immediately after my Vitamin E post.
Hello, my name is Jeff Fu and I have seasonal depression. I don’t know why I have seasonal depression or if it really has anything to do with Vitamin E or for that matter if it really is seasonal. I don’t plan on taking the time to really figure it out. I’m just going to continue dealing with it when it comes up and not planning ahead to make sure those negative thoughts don’t lead me down a slippery slope.
How awesome is that? Not really awesome at all is it… Considering I usually think I’m cooler than dry ice. I also believe I’m extremely clever and I’d like to cite that dry ice comment as evidence. Anyway… So why not take steps to understand why I get depressed, actively analyze the situations that make me depressed and work to avoid those thoughts that accompany said situations. Well, that’s something I’ve been actively tracking down.
I feel like improving yourself mentally is like hunting. You have to sit and wait for those furry little thoughts to come into your cross hairs. You can’t make any loud noises, or big moves, or else they’ll run off and you have to wait for them to come back. Once you get them in focus you can steady your hand, take a deep breath and fire away. Hopefully you hit it, but more often than not you miss and you have to wait for it to come back and try again. The key is that you never quit, you hunt like your life depended on it. Having someone special with you doesn’t hurt either…
I’ve always believed that if there is something you want to change about yourself you can as long as you put your mind to it. Once you have a desire to change, you start making steps toward that change and next thing you know you can’t remember a time you didn’t think that way. But the most difficult part is that first step. It’s like weight lifting. The first rep is always the hardest. Then you start getting into the rhythm and next thing you know you’ve lost count.
Studying myself has been something I’ve found to be very difficult. When I’m in the middle of thinking a certain way it’s difficult to pull away from the situation and analyze the reasoning behind it. Personally, I get a bit of tunnel vision, and the fact that I hate to change, even the way I’m thinking, doesn’t help my cause. But that first time you realize you’re doing something really stupid you start forcing yourself to notice and once you start seeing the same thought patterns over and over you realize that maybe it’s a problem.
Hello, my name is Jeff Fu and I have a problem. I can’t pin point the reasons why I think certain things. I don’t take the time to think about it and I don’t take the steps to stop those negative thoughts that cloud my mind. The coincidental convenience here is that this post is coming immediately after my Vitamin E post.
Hello, my name is Jeff Fu and I have seasonal depression. I don’t know why I have seasonal depression or if it really has anything to do with Vitamin E or for that matter if it really is seasonal. I don’t plan on taking the time to really figure it out. I’m just going to continue dealing with it when it comes up and not planning ahead to make sure those negative thoughts don’t lead me down a slippery slope.
How awesome is that? Not really awesome at all is it… Considering I usually think I’m cooler than dry ice. I also believe I’m extremely clever and I’d like to cite that dry ice comment as evidence. Anyway… So why not take steps to understand why I get depressed, actively analyze the situations that make me depressed and work to avoid those thoughts that accompany said situations. Well, that’s something I’ve been actively tracking down.
I feel like improving yourself mentally is like hunting. You have to sit and wait for those furry little thoughts to come into your cross hairs. You can’t make any loud noises, or big moves, or else they’ll run off and you have to wait for them to come back. Once you get them in focus you can steady your hand, take a deep breath and fire away. Hopefully you hit it, but more often than not you miss and you have to wait for it to come back and try again. The key is that you never quit, you hunt like your life depended on it. Having someone special with you doesn’t hurt either…
Friday, December 10, 2010
Vitamin E
Is that the one you get from the sun that keeps you from getting all depressed in the winter time? Because that’s what I think I’m heavily deficient in. As much as I like the winter time, for all it’s snowy, cold, wonderousness I hate not seeing the sun. I blame daylight savings time for not giving me those critical few hours after work to bask in the glory of the all mighty provider of life to the little green organisms of our world. I’ve noticed this before in the past, oh so long ago… or was that just last year? You’d expect this to happen annually since winter comes every year.
I tend to eat more, want to take more naps and spend a lot more time at home being lame. Apparently, winter makes even the coolest people super lame. I tried going to the gym today, busted through about half of my workout before deciding that going through the last half was completely pointless. Actually in my defense I did ¾ of my workout, not just a half. I have good health to maintain after all, and a little sadness can’t stop that from happening. Imagine if I was one of those people who sprinted to the gym on January 3rd to work off that holiday weight gain, especially when I’m eating more anyway. Regardless of the need to stay in shape though, the gym didn’t help to make me feel any better.
On my way home I was thinking through things I could get to make myself a little more joyous but all I could come up with is a coffee, which I might still go out and get. But I doubt that’ll do anything. Maybe if I got like a Peppermint Caramel Mocha Latte instead of a black coffee I’d feel a little better, but I don’t know if I could live with myself. In the end I realized that what I needed to do is type a bunch of stuff and post it on my blog. That usually makes me feel better.
Sometimes I get a lot of negative things built up in my head and the only outlet I really like to use is my keyboard. It’s like each little key stroke is a little bit of sadness being absorbed through my fingers into my computer and after I’m done I usually feel a lot better. Most of the time this works, but there are times that it might not and I take that risk. I guess it’s not much of a risk since I like writing anyway.
You know what else makes me feel better? Mindlessly strumming my guitar, which I can’t play but I like the random noises it makes. String instruments have always had a special place in my heart, ever since I took violin lessons when I was younger. I guess it’s the same idea, the stress leaves my body through my fingers.
What if I combined my blog, with my guitar and a coffee? I think I’d be too happy to sleep tonight or would that just be the coffee? Tomorrow morning, if it’s not raining, I’m going to be running. Too bad, odds are, if it was supposed to rain the sun probably isn’t going to be anywhere in sight.
I should have been a bear…
I tend to eat more, want to take more naps and spend a lot more time at home being lame. Apparently, winter makes even the coolest people super lame. I tried going to the gym today, busted through about half of my workout before deciding that going through the last half was completely pointless. Actually in my defense I did ¾ of my workout, not just a half. I have good health to maintain after all, and a little sadness can’t stop that from happening. Imagine if I was one of those people who sprinted to the gym on January 3rd to work off that holiday weight gain, especially when I’m eating more anyway. Regardless of the need to stay in shape though, the gym didn’t help to make me feel any better.
On my way home I was thinking through things I could get to make myself a little more joyous but all I could come up with is a coffee, which I might still go out and get. But I doubt that’ll do anything. Maybe if I got like a Peppermint Caramel Mocha Latte instead of a black coffee I’d feel a little better, but I don’t know if I could live with myself. In the end I realized that what I needed to do is type a bunch of stuff and post it on my blog. That usually makes me feel better.
Sometimes I get a lot of negative things built up in my head and the only outlet I really like to use is my keyboard. It’s like each little key stroke is a little bit of sadness being absorbed through my fingers into my computer and after I’m done I usually feel a lot better. Most of the time this works, but there are times that it might not and I take that risk. I guess it’s not much of a risk since I like writing anyway.
You know what else makes me feel better? Mindlessly strumming my guitar, which I can’t play but I like the random noises it makes. String instruments have always had a special place in my heart, ever since I took violin lessons when I was younger. I guess it’s the same idea, the stress leaves my body through my fingers.
What if I combined my blog, with my guitar and a coffee? I think I’d be too happy to sleep tonight or would that just be the coffee? Tomorrow morning, if it’s not raining, I’m going to be running. Too bad, odds are, if it was supposed to rain the sun probably isn’t going to be anywhere in sight.
I should have been a bear…
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Maybe The Window's View Does Matter
One day you wake up and see that there’s a new blog post on my blog, whether through Google Reader or as a follower of my Twitter page, then you sit down for lunch and realize… It’s gone… What happened? Who knows? I do, because I deleted it. Yes, I deleted it for one reason or another. If you really care you can ask me, but do it in person or else I might not respond. Despite this, I did feel it necessary to post something...
Given the fact that I’m not entirely sure what I’m writing about this could turn out to be really good or really terrible. I’d vote for the latter since, like a dog, if I have something to bark at I’ll stop when it’s gone, if I’m just barking for barking’s sake then I’ll do it until I’m tired. Fear not, it’s late and I’ve been tired since I had a big New York Style Pizza. How did I know it was New York Style? Because they had a map of the NYC subway on their wall, that’s how! What am I talking about? I don’t know! Remember the dog analogy?
Eventually I’ll find something to bark at and you’ll start getting interested I assure you…
What’s odd is that this use to be so easy while I was deployed. I could sit down and hammer out thoughts like a prisoner working on the license plate line. Now it seems like I struggle to find stuff to write about. I guess it’s like my regular conversation with people I haven’t seen in a while, say a couple months.
Me: “Hey, how’s it going?”
Them: “Pretty good, you?”
Me: “Good, it’s been a long time. What have you been up to?”
Them: ”Working…you?”
Me: “Uh, working…”
Seriously? We both know that we’ve been doing more than just working in the past couple months. Actually, I remember one time I ran into someone I hadn’t seen since high school and asked that same question and got that response. I was like… It’s been 10 years and ALL you’ve been doing is working? Man... You should really rethink your strategy on life.
While I was deployed even those conversations seemed to go differently. Maybe, having death looming over you makes you really think about elements of life that you otherwise wouldn’t, either that or boredom forces your brain to entertain itself by focusing on various things other than TV or Internet. By the way, have you tried Hulu? You really should, I like to watch network news and cooking shows on it. I like to make TV come to me on my time…
I think I’ve fallen victim to the very thing that pushed me out to the Middle East in the first place, the search for adventure. I hunted it like Ahab hunted Moby Dick. Luckily my ship didn’t sink.
Instead I caught the whale, came home and realized that nothing had changed. Now I tell stories like grandpa about my days as a Scan Eagle operator, not quite a serviceman and not quite a pilot either… Just one bad ass dude, 3 computer monitors and a whole lot of video. You know what’s funny, I still have 3 computer monitors and I still watch a lot of video, I’ll leave you to judge my level of bad ass…
Given the fact that I’m not entirely sure what I’m writing about this could turn out to be really good or really terrible. I’d vote for the latter since, like a dog, if I have something to bark at I’ll stop when it’s gone, if I’m just barking for barking’s sake then I’ll do it until I’m tired. Fear not, it’s late and I’ve been tired since I had a big New York Style Pizza. How did I know it was New York Style? Because they had a map of the NYC subway on their wall, that’s how! What am I talking about? I don’t know! Remember the dog analogy?
Eventually I’ll find something to bark at and you’ll start getting interested I assure you…
What’s odd is that this use to be so easy while I was deployed. I could sit down and hammer out thoughts like a prisoner working on the license plate line. Now it seems like I struggle to find stuff to write about. I guess it’s like my regular conversation with people I haven’t seen in a while, say a couple months.
Me: “Hey, how’s it going?”
Them: “Pretty good, you?”
Me: “Good, it’s been a long time. What have you been up to?”
Them: ”Working…you?”
Me: “Uh, working…”
Seriously? We both know that we’ve been doing more than just working in the past couple months. Actually, I remember one time I ran into someone I hadn’t seen since high school and asked that same question and got that response. I was like… It’s been 10 years and ALL you’ve been doing is working? Man... You should really rethink your strategy on life.
While I was deployed even those conversations seemed to go differently. Maybe, having death looming over you makes you really think about elements of life that you otherwise wouldn’t, either that or boredom forces your brain to entertain itself by focusing on various things other than TV or Internet. By the way, have you tried Hulu? You really should, I like to watch network news and cooking shows on it. I like to make TV come to me on my time…
I think I’ve fallen victim to the very thing that pushed me out to the Middle East in the first place, the search for adventure. I hunted it like Ahab hunted Moby Dick. Luckily my ship didn’t sink.
Instead I caught the whale, came home and realized that nothing had changed. Now I tell stories like grandpa about my days as a Scan Eagle operator, not quite a serviceman and not quite a pilot either… Just one bad ass dude, 3 computer monitors and a whole lot of video. You know what’s funny, I still have 3 computer monitors and I still watch a lot of video, I’ll leave you to judge my level of bad ass…
Monday, December 6, 2010
Don’t Call It A Come Back
I’m an open book when it comes to blogging. If you ever meet me on the street you’ll struggle to pull any real personal information out unless you ask the right questions. I’ll get pretty superfluous when it comes to things like politics, work or any number of hobbies that I’ve acquired throughout the years, but as for real down and dirty life details I’m a closed book face-to-face.
Now, if you put a keyboard in front of me I pour my heart out to the masses. I guess that’s just my way of making myself available to anyone, anywhere at anytime. Thus, since I haven’t posted much of anything since my triumphant return from Iraq, I decided that it was about time to start recapping my week-to-week life as much as I possibly can. A quick one page update, as long as I’m diligent should sum up my thoughts and feelings about various things in the realms of my professional life and social life. A bit of narcissism never hurt anyone. (I don’t know about you, but I think I’m EXTREMELY interesting…;-))
I’ll try to keep my titles as descriptive as possible to the basic idea within the post to allow people a one stop shop to decide whether that post was worth reading. I know I talk about a lot of stupid stuff sometimes and even in type I can get pretty wordy. But I’ll try my best to keep things as concise as I believe they should be, which means I’m going to say 10 words when 1 is necessary. But atleast I won’t be one of those people who just posts some dumb link and says something pointless regarding it. That’s what Facebook walls are for…
As a start it would be fun to write out a biography about myself. I know most of the readers already know me, but in case a new comer happens by, it’ll be fun to read something about the writer.
I was born in May of 1981 in Saint Louis, MO where I currently reside. I went to high school at Oakville Senior High, in a middle class suburb of Saint Louis. There I met some of the best friends I’ve ever had and continue to spend a lot of time with.
After high school graduation I headed off to the University of Missouri – Columbia where I received my undergraduate degree in Computer Science. I didn’t know it at the time but that’s where I would be the girl that I’d ultimately fall in love with (You probably want more information…)
After Mizzou, I started working for a large company back home in Saint Louis. I’ve spent nearly 7 years here now, jumping from one position to another as each became less interesting.
In my time at the company I’ve traveled to Australia, Germany, France, Italy, the UK, Kuwait, Dubai, Afghanistan, Iraq and nearly every state in America. I’ve returned to school to school and received my MBA from Washington University in Saint Louis and most importantly have met a whole new set of wonderful friends.
Now, if you put a keyboard in front of me I pour my heart out to the masses. I guess that’s just my way of making myself available to anyone, anywhere at anytime. Thus, since I haven’t posted much of anything since my triumphant return from Iraq, I decided that it was about time to start recapping my week-to-week life as much as I possibly can. A quick one page update, as long as I’m diligent should sum up my thoughts and feelings about various things in the realms of my professional life and social life. A bit of narcissism never hurt anyone. (I don’t know about you, but I think I’m EXTREMELY interesting…;-))
I’ll try to keep my titles as descriptive as possible to the basic idea within the post to allow people a one stop shop to decide whether that post was worth reading. I know I talk about a lot of stupid stuff sometimes and even in type I can get pretty wordy. But I’ll try my best to keep things as concise as I believe they should be, which means I’m going to say 10 words when 1 is necessary. But atleast I won’t be one of those people who just posts some dumb link and says something pointless regarding it. That’s what Facebook walls are for…
As a start it would be fun to write out a biography about myself. I know most of the readers already know me, but in case a new comer happens by, it’ll be fun to read something about the writer.
I was born in May of 1981 in Saint Louis, MO where I currently reside. I went to high school at Oakville Senior High, in a middle class suburb of Saint Louis. There I met some of the best friends I’ve ever had and continue to spend a lot of time with.
After high school graduation I headed off to the University of Missouri – Columbia where I received my undergraduate degree in Computer Science. I didn’t know it at the time but that’s where I would be the girl that I’d ultimately fall in love with (You probably want more information…)
After Mizzou, I started working for a large company back home in Saint Louis. I’ve spent nearly 7 years here now, jumping from one position to another as each became less interesting.
In my time at the company I’ve traveled to Australia, Germany, France, Italy, the UK, Kuwait, Dubai, Afghanistan, Iraq and nearly every state in America. I’ve returned to school to school and received my MBA from Washington University in Saint Louis and most importantly have met a whole new set of wonderful friends.
Monday, October 11, 2010
Mercedes Marathon... Number 2
This was written sometime during early February 2007 after I ran the Mercedes Marathon. Don’t remember what I wrote and I don’t plan on reading it in case I feel like embellishing anything. So please forgive me if there is a lack of flow or poor grammar…
The alarm went off at 5:00 AM this morning. I rolled out of bed and looked down at my phone (the alarm). With great joy I saw that there was a snooze button that prompted a warning that it would sound again in 9 minutes.
"Well good enough for me!" I thought to myself while pushing the button and jumping back into the bed.
The second time the alarm went off I forced myself out of bed, turned off the alarm and headed for the shower. This was my second night at my brother and his wife's home in Birmingham, AL. It's a house fitting two hard working doctors.
We decided that our departure time would be 5:45 today, so we could find our way to the start line of the marathon. Our actual departure time turned out to be around 5:50, which I'll take as a schedule victory.
Having a partially type-A personality helped, as I had already set out everything I would wear today, and prepared all my equipment. While suiting up this morning, strapping on my Ipod and putting on my clothes I wondered what everyone else was doing to prepare for their big day.
Were they getting breakfast and talking to other runners about past marathons at the hotels? Were they from Birmingham, and just waking up to a fresh pot of coffee? I know, why am I thinking about this, when I have a run to do in less than 2 hours.
The days leading up to this weekend were just your average days. Even Saturday was just another Saturday, except I was visiting my brother. Never during these past few months since I've signed up had I thought about the marathon. At no point did my nerves get to me, or was I fearful that I wouldn't finish. Fear of not finishing at a decent time… that was a different story.
So the morning came. We got in the car and headed for downtown Birmingham, a beautiful city by the way, with wonderful people and a lot of southern accents. At the start I spoke with an older man who had run the marathon a few times in the past.
He said that it was first time they didn't change the course. I told him that I was worried about Red Mountain, which wasn't more than a very large hill. The problem was that it was a large hill on the course. He assured me that it was nothing to worry about. Not long after we were lined up in the starting chute. As the countdown began I pulled my headphones over my ears where they would sit for the next 4 hours or so.
10…9…8…7…6…5…4…3…2…1! Cheers rang out, cow bells clanged and the sound of shoes pounding. The feeling finally hit me, I'm running another marathon…
I was surprised how good I felt at the beginning. I had started my GPS watch, which was having trouble finding satellites to synch to. When I hit the 1 mile mark I looked down and noticed that it came on. A little late, as it said I ran 300ft. But I did have my pace at 6:30 minutes per mile. I felt fine, so I continued with the faster pace.
The good feeling didn't go away, the miles melted away as my Ipod played on. The first of the demoralizing climbs came around mile 5, the first ascent of the front side of Red Mountain, which was a 300ft climb that stretched between miles 5 and 6.
I ran hard up the incline, harder than I've ever had to run. By now my watch had lost the satellites, very frustrating by the way, so I had no clue what my pace was. But I was passing people, and when your passing people chances are you aren't running that slow.
I had already planned out when I would take my water stops and when I would eat my energy gels. So around mile 8 I pulled out the first of three energy gels I would take. It was cold out, so it had the consistency of cookie dough. Not the feeling you want in your mouth when you're trying to run. I held it in my mouth until I got to a water station and washed it down with some Gatorade.
By this time I was already starting to feel a bit fatigued. I continued to push forward past the ever present desire to stop. Eventually the energy gel came into effect, reviving me and pushing me forward at a faster pace.
The miles continued to fly by. When I hit the half marathon mark the time was 1:45, I was a full 20 minutes ahead of my time from Chicago. I was exhilarated. I wanted to take it easy for this marathon and push hard in the Saint Louis Marathon in April. But at this point my goal time for Saint Louis was my pace time here in Birmingham. Not wanting to linger to long on my times, I kept running.
Through neighborhoods, over bridges, under bridges, through parking lots and shopping malls we ran. At times I looked around to find that I was the only person in sight. I had to do a misdirection check and find some orange cones to make sure I was still on course and fortunately I was.
At mile 19 I looked up and saw some of the front runners running past me on the other side. I didn't think the turn around was very far ahead. I couldn't believe it, was I that close to the start? Are you kidding me? What kind of people run this race if I'm this close to the front! Well… I wasn't that close… As it turns out I was about 3 miles away from where they were at. Good thing I didn't vocalize my excitement…
At mile 22 was the ascent of the backside of Red Mountain, this time it stretched between mile 22 and mile 23. What an awful thing to do to someone, making them run up this mountain at the end of the race. The old guy lied too, it wasn't easy at all! My swift pace slowed to a snails crawl, and at some points turned to walking when there were enough people around me. HA… I can walk all day when there are others around walking. But when they started running, I had to start too, however unwillingly.
A nice fellow in a suit and derby was walking down the road, presumably to his car and shouted to me.
"Keep it up, the crest is close and it's all downhill from there!"
Oh thank the good lord! I'm not sure how much more of this I could take. Sure enough right over the crest was the city, and the drop. I let gravity take over the accelerator and cruised down the hill. Around one of the corners was the 23 mile mark. There a group of younger spectators were cheering on the runners.
For some strange reason, probably alcohol, they screamed "TEXAS!!" so naturally I responded "TEXAS!!" and high-fived everyone in the group. I'm glad they were there, they're energy gave me a little more boost to finish.
I was relieved to reach the bottom of the hill. I was using more energy trying to not fall forward than I was trying to move forward. According to the elevation map provided by the website the rest of the course was flat.
I finally came upon the spot where my brother and Lara (his wife) were cheering people on. From about 100 yards away I could see the colorful "GO JEFF" and "Run Runners, Run" signs they had hastily made before coming out. They didn't seem to be looking in the direction I was coming from, so I yelled to them.
"Hey! Where are you guys looking?" I shouted with all my might.
They turned to me and started cheering, as did everyone else around the area. I was a bit embarrassed since my intention was just to get their attention, not everyone's. But it was nice to have everyone yelling for me to keep going.
My brother ran up to me outside the course cones and snapped a photo just as I passed the 24 mile marker at 3:20. I had 2 miles left! I stopped at the first water stop after the marker, by stopped I mean I got my cup of Gatorade and walked another 25 yards after it. That killed my time a little bit needless to say.
I finally came upon mile 25 and could see the city ahead. Only one more mile left! One more! I tried to pick up the pace, but my legs would have nothing to do with it. I decided that if I tried to push it much harder I might blow a gasket and need to take a tour of the Emergency Room at my brother's hospital.
Also, I had more than blown away my goal time so this last mile wasn't going to make or break my time. Finally, I came around the corner and saw the Finishers Chute. I ran across the finish line at 3:40, it took me 20 minutes to run 2 miles… but more importantly I could still walk, so I didn't mind the 10 minute mile pace had.
I got a nice medal, resembling something you could steal off of a Mercedes, and a really nice new shirt. After getting my timing chip cut off and talking to another finisher about his past marathons I called my brother and got the heck out of there. No more wandering the city after 4 hours of running for me (That's what I did after the Chicago Marathon... Okay I lied I read it anyway but I didn't do any editing).
The alarm went off at 5:00 AM this morning. I rolled out of bed and looked down at my phone (the alarm). With great joy I saw that there was a snooze button that prompted a warning that it would sound again in 9 minutes.
"Well good enough for me!" I thought to myself while pushing the button and jumping back into the bed.
The second time the alarm went off I forced myself out of bed, turned off the alarm and headed for the shower. This was my second night at my brother and his wife's home in Birmingham, AL. It's a house fitting two hard working doctors.
We decided that our departure time would be 5:45 today, so we could find our way to the start line of the marathon. Our actual departure time turned out to be around 5:50, which I'll take as a schedule victory.
Having a partially type-A personality helped, as I had already set out everything I would wear today, and prepared all my equipment. While suiting up this morning, strapping on my Ipod and putting on my clothes I wondered what everyone else was doing to prepare for their big day.
Were they getting breakfast and talking to other runners about past marathons at the hotels? Were they from Birmingham, and just waking up to a fresh pot of coffee? I know, why am I thinking about this, when I have a run to do in less than 2 hours.
The days leading up to this weekend were just your average days. Even Saturday was just another Saturday, except I was visiting my brother. Never during these past few months since I've signed up had I thought about the marathon. At no point did my nerves get to me, or was I fearful that I wouldn't finish. Fear of not finishing at a decent time… that was a different story.
So the morning came. We got in the car and headed for downtown Birmingham, a beautiful city by the way, with wonderful people and a lot of southern accents. At the start I spoke with an older man who had run the marathon a few times in the past.
He said that it was first time they didn't change the course. I told him that I was worried about Red Mountain, which wasn't more than a very large hill. The problem was that it was a large hill on the course. He assured me that it was nothing to worry about. Not long after we were lined up in the starting chute. As the countdown began I pulled my headphones over my ears where they would sit for the next 4 hours or so.
10…9…8…7…6…5…4…3…2…1! Cheers rang out, cow bells clanged and the sound of shoes pounding. The feeling finally hit me, I'm running another marathon…
I was surprised how good I felt at the beginning. I had started my GPS watch, which was having trouble finding satellites to synch to. When I hit the 1 mile mark I looked down and noticed that it came on. A little late, as it said I ran 300ft. But I did have my pace at 6:30 minutes per mile. I felt fine, so I continued with the faster pace.
The good feeling didn't go away, the miles melted away as my Ipod played on. The first of the demoralizing climbs came around mile 5, the first ascent of the front side of Red Mountain, which was a 300ft climb that stretched between miles 5 and 6.
I ran hard up the incline, harder than I've ever had to run. By now my watch had lost the satellites, very frustrating by the way, so I had no clue what my pace was. But I was passing people, and when your passing people chances are you aren't running that slow.
I had already planned out when I would take my water stops and when I would eat my energy gels. So around mile 8 I pulled out the first of three energy gels I would take. It was cold out, so it had the consistency of cookie dough. Not the feeling you want in your mouth when you're trying to run. I held it in my mouth until I got to a water station and washed it down with some Gatorade.
By this time I was already starting to feel a bit fatigued. I continued to push forward past the ever present desire to stop. Eventually the energy gel came into effect, reviving me and pushing me forward at a faster pace.
The miles continued to fly by. When I hit the half marathon mark the time was 1:45, I was a full 20 minutes ahead of my time from Chicago. I was exhilarated. I wanted to take it easy for this marathon and push hard in the Saint Louis Marathon in April. But at this point my goal time for Saint Louis was my pace time here in Birmingham. Not wanting to linger to long on my times, I kept running.
Through neighborhoods, over bridges, under bridges, through parking lots and shopping malls we ran. At times I looked around to find that I was the only person in sight. I had to do a misdirection check and find some orange cones to make sure I was still on course and fortunately I was.
At mile 19 I looked up and saw some of the front runners running past me on the other side. I didn't think the turn around was very far ahead. I couldn't believe it, was I that close to the start? Are you kidding me? What kind of people run this race if I'm this close to the front! Well… I wasn't that close… As it turns out I was about 3 miles away from where they were at. Good thing I didn't vocalize my excitement…
At mile 22 was the ascent of the backside of Red Mountain, this time it stretched between mile 22 and mile 23. What an awful thing to do to someone, making them run up this mountain at the end of the race. The old guy lied too, it wasn't easy at all! My swift pace slowed to a snails crawl, and at some points turned to walking when there were enough people around me. HA… I can walk all day when there are others around walking. But when they started running, I had to start too, however unwillingly.
A nice fellow in a suit and derby was walking down the road, presumably to his car and shouted to me.
"Keep it up, the crest is close and it's all downhill from there!"
Oh thank the good lord! I'm not sure how much more of this I could take. Sure enough right over the crest was the city, and the drop. I let gravity take over the accelerator and cruised down the hill. Around one of the corners was the 23 mile mark. There a group of younger spectators were cheering on the runners.
For some strange reason, probably alcohol, they screamed "TEXAS!!" so naturally I responded "TEXAS!!" and high-fived everyone in the group. I'm glad they were there, they're energy gave me a little more boost to finish.
I was relieved to reach the bottom of the hill. I was using more energy trying to not fall forward than I was trying to move forward. According to the elevation map provided by the website the rest of the course was flat.
I finally came upon the spot where my brother and Lara (his wife) were cheering people on. From about 100 yards away I could see the colorful "GO JEFF" and "Run Runners, Run" signs they had hastily made before coming out. They didn't seem to be looking in the direction I was coming from, so I yelled to them.
"Hey! Where are you guys looking?" I shouted with all my might.
They turned to me and started cheering, as did everyone else around the area. I was a bit embarrassed since my intention was just to get their attention, not everyone's. But it was nice to have everyone yelling for me to keep going.
My brother ran up to me outside the course cones and snapped a photo just as I passed the 24 mile marker at 3:20. I had 2 miles left! I stopped at the first water stop after the marker, by stopped I mean I got my cup of Gatorade and walked another 25 yards after it. That killed my time a little bit needless to say.
I finally came upon mile 25 and could see the city ahead. Only one more mile left! One more! I tried to pick up the pace, but my legs would have nothing to do with it. I decided that if I tried to push it much harder I might blow a gasket and need to take a tour of the Emergency Room at my brother's hospital.
Also, I had more than blown away my goal time so this last mile wasn't going to make or break my time. Finally, I came around the corner and saw the Finishers Chute. I ran across the finish line at 3:40, it took me 20 minutes to run 2 miles… but more importantly I could still walk, so I didn't mind the 10 minute mile pace had.
I got a nice medal, resembling something you could steal off of a Mercedes, and a really nice new shirt. After getting my timing chip cut off and talking to another finisher about his past marathons I called my brother and got the heck out of there. No more wandering the city after 4 hours of running for me (That's what I did after the Chicago Marathon... Okay I lied I read it anyway but I didn't do any editing).
Monday, August 9, 2010
A New Chapter
It's been a little more than 2 weeks since my exhausted return to the US. Thinking about how much I went through to get home still makes me cringe. Nonetheless I triumphantly got off that plane, nearly dropped to my knees and kissed the ground at Lambert Airport but hygiene issues stopped me from doing that. But I didn’t bother hiding my joy for being back at home, it’s a feeling I hadn’t experienced before and hope that the memory of it stays with me.
I also can't get over that feeling of joy to be around friends again. It might be because many friends are just now realizing that I'm back and calling me to hang out or, I'm hopeful, the feeling will never fade. Either way I'm going to relish this feeling as much as possible, especially while I don't have to go in to work. To be a little selfish, I think I deserve this time off to adjust to civilization again. Going to the grocery store is still a bit overwhelming.
The Tuesday I got back to the US I had an interview with another program at the company. I didn't feel as if it was my best performance, although for most of my interviews I've felt about the same way, but a week later there was a job offer sitting in my inbox. Obviously I accepted because if I were to be redeployed I'd have to wait another 6 months before trying to return to engineering. (I'd also like to point out that my interview to job offer ratio is 1:1. On the other hand my application to interview ratio is still sitting pretty low.)
Before I left I told everyone that this last deployment was going to be my finale and when I first started on the program I thought I was probably only good for 2 deployments. After Afghanistan I didn’t really want to head back out but inside I knew I wasn’t ready to stop yet and the promise of going to a site with friends ushered me back out. After the midpoint of this past deployment I knew that it was the end and when I couldn’t get out of country it was just an additional nail in the coffin. I was very fortunate that all the stars aligned and I was able to find a new position so quickly.
Thus starts the next chapter in my autobiography. It won’t be near as exciting in all ways but it only means we’ll have to be more imaginative. I can still feel that voice in my head that calls me back out to the field with all the guys I left out there but I’ll try to ignore it as long as possible for everyone else’s sanity, if not my own. Don’t be surprised when I start talking about how much I want to go back, especially if I go to Oregon to hang out with all the guys up there. Until then I’ll try to keep myself as content here as possible.
I also can't get over that feeling of joy to be around friends again. It might be because many friends are just now realizing that I'm back and calling me to hang out or, I'm hopeful, the feeling will never fade. Either way I'm going to relish this feeling as much as possible, especially while I don't have to go in to work. To be a little selfish, I think I deserve this time off to adjust to civilization again. Going to the grocery store is still a bit overwhelming.
The Tuesday I got back to the US I had an interview with another program at the company. I didn't feel as if it was my best performance, although for most of my interviews I've felt about the same way, but a week later there was a job offer sitting in my inbox. Obviously I accepted because if I were to be redeployed I'd have to wait another 6 months before trying to return to engineering. (I'd also like to point out that my interview to job offer ratio is 1:1. On the other hand my application to interview ratio is still sitting pretty low.)
Before I left I told everyone that this last deployment was going to be my finale and when I first started on the program I thought I was probably only good for 2 deployments. After Afghanistan I didn’t really want to head back out but inside I knew I wasn’t ready to stop yet and the promise of going to a site with friends ushered me back out. After the midpoint of this past deployment I knew that it was the end and when I couldn’t get out of country it was just an additional nail in the coffin. I was very fortunate that all the stars aligned and I was able to find a new position so quickly.
Thus starts the next chapter in my autobiography. It won’t be near as exciting in all ways but it only means we’ll have to be more imaginative. I can still feel that voice in my head that calls me back out to the field with all the guys I left out there but I’ll try to ignore it as long as possible for everyone else’s sanity, if not my own. Don’t be surprised when I start talking about how much I want to go back, especially if I go to Oregon to hang out with all the guys up there. Until then I’ll try to keep myself as content here as possible.
Friday, July 23, 2010
The Beginning of the End
After another extremely disappointing night, I have my greatest hope of getting off the base today. Now that it has become more likely that I’ll be leaving I can recall a post earlier during this deployment when I spoke about the people. The people are what make this job worth doing, not the people we save or the people back home but the people we work with. I remember talking about an age divide that kept our team from really growing close with one another and that being the reason why this deployment wasn’t the same as the other one.
The makeup of our team has changed significantly since then. I had the great honor of working with three people that I had been previously deployed with. They slowly rotated back as the others rotated to the spoke or back home. So during the final week of my time here it was like we had the dream team together again.
When asked by one of the guys whether I was excited about leaving (this was during my first attempt at leaving) and I told him “You know, sometimes I am, but other times I’m not. Honestly being out here is great, it’s like you get to hang out with your buddies all day and get paid for it.” He laughed in response.
I know now that this will definitely be my last time out. Because like a bad breakup it’s not the good times you remember during the relationship, it’s the bad ending that leaves that taste in your mouth and this break up has been pretty traumatic. Unlike Afghanistan, where I could almost come and go as I pleased, Iraq is like a clingy girl that doesn’t want to let go. Hopefully this time it will be the final chapter of this journey.
The makeup of our team has changed significantly since then. I had the great honor of working with three people that I had been previously deployed with. They slowly rotated back as the others rotated to the spoke or back home. So during the final week of my time here it was like we had the dream team together again.
When asked by one of the guys whether I was excited about leaving (this was during my first attempt at leaving) and I told him “You know, sometimes I am, but other times I’m not. Honestly being out here is great, it’s like you get to hang out with your buddies all day and get paid for it.” He laughed in response.
I know now that this will definitely be my last time out. Because like a bad breakup it’s not the good times you remember during the relationship, it’s the bad ending that leaves that taste in your mouth and this break up has been pretty traumatic. Unlike Afghanistan, where I could almost come and go as I pleased, Iraq is like a clingy girl that doesn’t want to let go. Hopefully this time it will be the final chapter of this journey.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
2-Fer
Right now, given my situation, I’m a bit of a mess. Sometimes writing things down helps me to gather my thoughts and make more sense of them. My last post was more of an “I better put this in writing before I hurt someone” post, but this one will be an “I better get things into perspective” post. I’m sure if you read my blog you’re probably interested in me, so I’ll assume you have a general idea of what’s going on.
I have a need to control my situation and when I don’t feel like I have control I get extremely depressed and excessively stressed. This current situation is an example of me not having any control over what happens with my future.
My desire to control my future is only trumped by my strong aversion toward disappointing others. I hate when people go out of their way to help me and then have me turn around and fail them.
My friends went out of their way to help me in two ways. One of them planned a welcoming home party for me and invited people they realized I knew, but they didn’t know. They opened their home to complete strangers because they wanted to make a big deal of my return. I don’t remember the last time I was so excited for something.
Another friend went out of his way to put in a good word with his manager so that I’d get an interview. At first the hiring manager was going to throw my resume out of the pile because I was out of the country but was convinced not to. That manager had to go to a director to work out the logistics of getting me in for that interview.
My two worst fears, lack of control and failing others, are weighing heavily on my shoulders. I’m beginning to accept that my welcoming home party isn’t going to happen. I’ll not only have disappointed the organizers of the party, but those who were attending. The interview is just on the horizon and I’m not sure when I’ll be able to get off this base so I’ll probably miss that. I’ll not only have disappointed my friend but also the manager and probably the director.
This actually turned out to be less of an “I better get things into perspective” and more an “I’m kind of depressed now” post.
I have a need to control my situation and when I don’t feel like I have control I get extremely depressed and excessively stressed. This current situation is an example of me not having any control over what happens with my future.
My desire to control my future is only trumped by my strong aversion toward disappointing others. I hate when people go out of their way to help me and then have me turn around and fail them.
My friends went out of their way to help me in two ways. One of them planned a welcoming home party for me and invited people they realized I knew, but they didn’t know. They opened their home to complete strangers because they wanted to make a big deal of my return. I don’t remember the last time I was so excited for something.
Another friend went out of his way to put in a good word with his manager so that I’d get an interview. At first the hiring manager was going to throw my resume out of the pile because I was out of the country but was convinced not to. That manager had to go to a director to work out the logistics of getting me in for that interview.
My two worst fears, lack of control and failing others, are weighing heavily on my shoulders. I’m beginning to accept that my welcoming home party isn’t going to happen. I’ll not only have disappointed the organizers of the party, but those who were attending. The interview is just on the horizon and I’m not sure when I’ll be able to get off this base so I’ll probably miss that. I’ll not only have disappointed my friend but also the manager and probably the director.
This actually turned out to be less of an “I better get things into perspective” and more an “I’m kind of depressed now” post.
Plan B
Plan A, which was Plan B, is now Plan A and Plan B, which was Plan C, is now Plan B. Confused? Well at least you’re not stuck in Iraq with no idea when you’re leaving because not only does it seem like the military is working against you, so is Mother Nature. Allow me to expand on the past two days of life.
35 hours ago I woke up fully expecting to be sitting in Kuwait at this very moment waiting for my passport to return so I could go to my hotel and wait for my commercial flight out of the country. I passed on getting the military equivalent of a reservation because the flight we take is pretty empty leaving here and it’s usually not a problem to get on. Needless to say I was happy as a clam.
6 hours later I came into work to check the flights, which are released daily due to security reasons. The flight we normally take wasn’t there, the same flight that just a week ago someone took to get here! My heart sunk as I called the flight line to verify that what I was reading was correct. My hope only dwindled more after speaking with them and learning that it wasn’t a typo, but the flight really wasn’t coming. He suggested I check back later that evening to make sure nothing had changed.
11 hours ago I was driving over to the flight line to check on the flights again. To my great surprise I saw the flight I wanted to take, the golden egg! I spoke with one of the soldiers and was told to come back in 5 hours. It was the best news I had gotten so far! I was happy as a clam again.
5 hours later I sat in the terminal, listening to my iPod, so excited that things were working out. Then one of the soldiers came out to update the Weather Status, which was green. He pulled the green indicator down and put up a red indicator. My hope faded fast as he walked off. I got up and walked outside, sure enough visibility was very low. My heart sunk more.
After sitting in the terminal for 3 hours waiting for the flight, one of the soldiers walked out and gave us the worst news any of us could ever want to hear. The flight was cancelled. For the next 20 minutes I stood there, staring at the flight schedule, hoping that something would change. I was distraught, I paced around a bit and finally broke down and tried to call our site for a ride. No one answered, so to add insult to injury I walked two miles with my bags back. This helped to tire me out, otherwise I’m sure I’d have been in some sort of rage.
Now I’m sitting here, still not sure what happened, trying to figure out how to feel or what to think. I can feel the anger bubbling within me with the complete lack of control over my situation acting as a catalyst to further stoke the fire. Plan A is to attempt to get out tomorrow, but that’s a slim hope and if I do get out tomorrow getting on my scheduled flight will also be a slim hope. I need something good to happen soon.
35 hours ago I woke up fully expecting to be sitting in Kuwait at this very moment waiting for my passport to return so I could go to my hotel and wait for my commercial flight out of the country. I passed on getting the military equivalent of a reservation because the flight we take is pretty empty leaving here and it’s usually not a problem to get on. Needless to say I was happy as a clam.
6 hours later I came into work to check the flights, which are released daily due to security reasons. The flight we normally take wasn’t there, the same flight that just a week ago someone took to get here! My heart sunk as I called the flight line to verify that what I was reading was correct. My hope only dwindled more after speaking with them and learning that it wasn’t a typo, but the flight really wasn’t coming. He suggested I check back later that evening to make sure nothing had changed.
11 hours ago I was driving over to the flight line to check on the flights again. To my great surprise I saw the flight I wanted to take, the golden egg! I spoke with one of the soldiers and was told to come back in 5 hours. It was the best news I had gotten so far! I was happy as a clam again.
5 hours later I sat in the terminal, listening to my iPod, so excited that things were working out. Then one of the soldiers came out to update the Weather Status, which was green. He pulled the green indicator down and put up a red indicator. My hope faded fast as he walked off. I got up and walked outside, sure enough visibility was very low. My heart sunk more.
After sitting in the terminal for 3 hours waiting for the flight, one of the soldiers walked out and gave us the worst news any of us could ever want to hear. The flight was cancelled. For the next 20 minutes I stood there, staring at the flight schedule, hoping that something would change. I was distraught, I paced around a bit and finally broke down and tried to call our site for a ride. No one answered, so to add insult to injury I walked two miles with my bags back. This helped to tire me out, otherwise I’m sure I’d have been in some sort of rage.
Now I’m sitting here, still not sure what happened, trying to figure out how to feel or what to think. I can feel the anger bubbling within me with the complete lack of control over my situation acting as a catalyst to further stoke the fire. Plan A is to attempt to get out tomorrow, but that’s a slim hope and if I do get out tomorrow getting on my scheduled flight will also be a slim hope. I need something good to happen soon.
Sunday, June 20, 2010
I've Never Done This Before...
Unless you avoid all human contact or take about as much risk as a mouse in a zoo’s reptile house, you’ve no doubt heard the cliché “Live every day like it was your last.” Well, last night while I was lying in bed, tossing and turning, I realized something that should have been realized a long time ago. Living every day like it was your last is probably the worst idea, for me, and quite possibly a lot of others. I believe this for a number of reasons, which again, while tossing and turning I was able to elaborate on during my battle with insomnia, energy drinks and that bottle of dietary supplement.
I recall the first time I got off a C-130 in the Afghan desert during the Afghan summer. The sun’s rays beat down on the Earth’s surface like a cop on the door of a meth house. I looked out over the airfield and into the countryside in a feeble attempt to fully take in the scene. Marines, both US and UK, milled about, pulling gear from one aircraft and putting it on another. It was probably the most exciting scene I’ve ever witnessed in the short time I’ve graced this world. I was there. I was in Afghanistan, during the largest conflict in our generation.
I remember my first kiss, something more people can relate to unless you fall into either category that I started with. I remember thinking, while our faces drew closer, that I had no idea what I was doing. But it wasn’t as if that mattered, because neither did she. I won’t bore you with details, as everyone’s been there, but recall the excitement, fear and anticipation.
Think back to your first day of school. If you’re like me and were educated in public school, remember waiting for the bus for the first time. Remember your heart racing as you saw that big yellow behemoth rolling closer to your stop, your mother reassuring you that everything was going to be okay. Think about how it felt to make new friends, finding out that they lived right down the street from you, never realizing the possibility that, 25 years from then, you’d still be friends.
Think about all the firsts in your life and the excitement that accompanied it. Think about the first time you grasped the wheel of a car. Think about a first date, with anyone, and how exciting it is to learn about someone new. How about meeting someone for the first time and knowing that you’re going to marry them. Can you imagine a world where every time you met someone you gave them a new chance to make a first impression?
I don’t know about you, but I don’t have any fond memories of the last time I did anything, but I have an endless queue of firsts. Each with their own stories, and their own associated excitement, fear and anticipation. Given the choice, I’d rather wake up every morning and say to myself, “Self, this is the first day of the rest of your life…” instead of “Self, this is the last day of your life… Have fun with that…”
I recall the first time I got off a C-130 in the Afghan desert during the Afghan summer. The sun’s rays beat down on the Earth’s surface like a cop on the door of a meth house. I looked out over the airfield and into the countryside in a feeble attempt to fully take in the scene. Marines, both US and UK, milled about, pulling gear from one aircraft and putting it on another. It was probably the most exciting scene I’ve ever witnessed in the short time I’ve graced this world. I was there. I was in Afghanistan, during the largest conflict in our generation.
I remember my first kiss, something more people can relate to unless you fall into either category that I started with. I remember thinking, while our faces drew closer, that I had no idea what I was doing. But it wasn’t as if that mattered, because neither did she. I won’t bore you with details, as everyone’s been there, but recall the excitement, fear and anticipation.
Think back to your first day of school. If you’re like me and were educated in public school, remember waiting for the bus for the first time. Remember your heart racing as you saw that big yellow behemoth rolling closer to your stop, your mother reassuring you that everything was going to be okay. Think about how it felt to make new friends, finding out that they lived right down the street from you, never realizing the possibility that, 25 years from then, you’d still be friends.
Think about all the firsts in your life and the excitement that accompanied it. Think about the first time you grasped the wheel of a car. Think about a first date, with anyone, and how exciting it is to learn about someone new. How about meeting someone for the first time and knowing that you’re going to marry them. Can you imagine a world where every time you met someone you gave them a new chance to make a first impression?
I don’t know about you, but I don’t have any fond memories of the last time I did anything, but I have an endless queue of firsts. Each with their own stories, and their own associated excitement, fear and anticipation. Given the choice, I’d rather wake up every morning and say to myself, “Self, this is the first day of the rest of your life…” instead of “Self, this is the last day of your life… Have fun with that…”
Thursday, June 10, 2010
A Double Espresso Grande Fat Free Chai Latte with Whipped Cream, Extra Cinnamon, and a Drizzle of Chocolate and Caramel in a Venti Cup, Please.
I took this job a year ago because I was bored. I was bored with the normal life of working eight hours and heading home to wake up the next morning and doing it all over again. I was tired of the office politics where people, trying to achieve the same goal, argued about whether it was a customer requirement or not. I was tired of spending weekends going to the same places or trying to figure out what to do otherwise. I wanted something different, I wanted to expand my horizons and find something both challenging and entertaining. Recently, however, I’ve found it more and more difficult to keep myself either challenged or entertained.
I’ve had a habit of changing jobs very frequently in my short career. Where most people have either stayed in one position or moved once, this will have been my fourth job switch and hopefully when I get home I’ll have made my fifth. I do it because I get bored once something ceases to be a challenge and that’s when I get restless and start updating my resume. In fact, my most recent resume update was about a week ago. I’m like a 5 month old Labrador puppy, I need to be walked or else I’ll start tearing up the house.
I’m not really even sure I am cut out for the corporate world. I imagined going back to the cubical farm in some office high rise and it made me shudder. Four jobs and I haven’t found a single position that I felt was a real challenge, even dodging rockets while trying to launch an aircraft has proven boring after a year. I guess one could argue that doing what we do out here is about the same as trying to work from home with a child banging pots and pans together in another room. In the end it’s all just another distraction.
Either way, I don’t plan on doing this again. I remotely recall writing something about quitting when I reach a certain percentage of boredom and I think I’ve reached it. But again, where do I go from here?
Sometimes I regret getting my computer science degree. I don’t even particularly care about computers or technology. It’s nice to know that technology is advancing but I’d rather sit on the sidelines and watch. It’s like getting hit by a UFC fighter, I’d rather be outside the Octagon. That being said, I’m not sure what else I’d be good at or what else I’d rather do. I’m complaining about something but not having a suggestion on ways to fix it.
I can imagine how Peter from Office Space felt. What would I do if I had a million dollars? Well, given today’s economic situation, the overall weakness of the dollar and the potential for a global economic catastrophe, I’d probably keep working, since a million dollars wouldn’t last me until I died given my life expectancy is probably increasing every year I’m alive.
Okay, seriously though… If I had enough money that I wouldn’t have to work ever again, I’d probably play golf every day, get a job at a coffee shop, meet a cool artistic nerdy girl, get married and live a long happy life. Aside from making lattes and swinging my driver, I would do absolutely nothing… I AM the reason communism doesn’t work.
Well, you ask, what happened to all that talk about challenges and getting bored? Well, have you ever tried to play golf? Or been behind the person whose coffee order needs its own ZIP code? Take away the office politics and I’d be pretty happy churning out coffee for yuppies and screaming FORE! as my drive slices off toward a group on the adjoining fairway. Plus who could blame me? Would you rather sit in the Octagon getting pounded by Tito Ortiz or swing a golf club on a perfectly manicured fairway? Speaking of getting pounded, I think I hear sirens going off… I better go to the shelter before my life expectancy takes a sudden nose dive.
I’ve had a habit of changing jobs very frequently in my short career. Where most people have either stayed in one position or moved once, this will have been my fourth job switch and hopefully when I get home I’ll have made my fifth. I do it because I get bored once something ceases to be a challenge and that’s when I get restless and start updating my resume. In fact, my most recent resume update was about a week ago. I’m like a 5 month old Labrador puppy, I need to be walked or else I’ll start tearing up the house.
I’m not really even sure I am cut out for the corporate world. I imagined going back to the cubical farm in some office high rise and it made me shudder. Four jobs and I haven’t found a single position that I felt was a real challenge, even dodging rockets while trying to launch an aircraft has proven boring after a year. I guess one could argue that doing what we do out here is about the same as trying to work from home with a child banging pots and pans together in another room. In the end it’s all just another distraction.
Either way, I don’t plan on doing this again. I remotely recall writing something about quitting when I reach a certain percentage of boredom and I think I’ve reached it. But again, where do I go from here?
Sometimes I regret getting my computer science degree. I don’t even particularly care about computers or technology. It’s nice to know that technology is advancing but I’d rather sit on the sidelines and watch. It’s like getting hit by a UFC fighter, I’d rather be outside the Octagon. That being said, I’m not sure what else I’d be good at or what else I’d rather do. I’m complaining about something but not having a suggestion on ways to fix it.
I can imagine how Peter from Office Space felt. What would I do if I had a million dollars? Well, given today’s economic situation, the overall weakness of the dollar and the potential for a global economic catastrophe, I’d probably keep working, since a million dollars wouldn’t last me until I died given my life expectancy is probably increasing every year I’m alive.
Okay, seriously though… If I had enough money that I wouldn’t have to work ever again, I’d probably play golf every day, get a job at a coffee shop, meet a cool artistic nerdy girl, get married and live a long happy life. Aside from making lattes and swinging my driver, I would do absolutely nothing… I AM the reason communism doesn’t work.
Well, you ask, what happened to all that talk about challenges and getting bored? Well, have you ever tried to play golf? Or been behind the person whose coffee order needs its own ZIP code? Take away the office politics and I’d be pretty happy churning out coffee for yuppies and screaming FORE! as my drive slices off toward a group on the adjoining fairway. Plus who could blame me? Would you rather sit in the Octagon getting pounded by Tito Ortiz or swing a golf club on a perfectly manicured fairway? Speaking of getting pounded, I think I hear sirens going off… I better go to the shelter before my life expectancy takes a sudden nose dive.
Sunday, May 16, 2010
It's Time
It’s only fair that I balance out my previous post about things that I like out here with things that I miss back home. To be really honest, this doesn’t have anything to do with balancing, it has more to do with the fact that I’m ready to come home. But can you blame me really? I can only make so many different types of baked potatoes or go to the gym so many times a day. There comes a time when the grass gets so blindingly green over the fence that you’re willing to risk that electric fence and try to jump over. Too bad I don’t control that, and I’m obligated by some intrinsic set of morals that forces me to stay here until my time is complete.
It’s kind of like a jail sentence without that nasty criminal record and the crime that put you there. I’m sure jail is all candy canes and lollipops in the beginning. You get 3 square meals, cable television, a bed and probably some decent stories. But then you start to realize that you’re stuck, you can’t leave, you can’t do what you want and your cell mate starts looking at you with that sparkle in his eye. That’s when you realize that maybe that crime wasn’t such a good idea. But in my case there isn’t a cell mate, and there wasn’t a crime so it’s just me saying that spending a year chasing after militants is enough.
I’m sure in either situation you start to miss those free days when the wind was flowing through your hair as you cruised down the highway with your windows down on a warm summer day heading in no particular direction at all. That’s why this post was necessary, instead of that yin-yang excuse I was trying to sell earlier. Albeit my sales pitch could probably use some work, but at least I started off with it instead of jumping right into the sparkly eyed cell mate.
But let it be known that the aforementioned freedom is greatly missed, the freedom to do whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted and however I wanted. I miss sleeping in on weekends if I felt like it. Since there are no weekends out here, there isn’t much opportunity to sleep in. Along those same lines, I miss taking that sick day in the middle of the week even though I’m clearly well enough to wake up and make the call into work.
I miss waking up just before the sun rose to go out to Creve Coeur or Forest Park for a 4 to 12 miler. The air smelled clean as I trotted along enjoying the changing scenery with every passing foot. I traded that to spend an hour on the treadmill at the gym. I’m still there before the sunrises but the smell of drying paint is somehow less desirable than the smell of clean air.
I miss seeing friends when I wanted to, or staying in when I didn’t feel like doing anything. To have the option to say, “I think I’m going to stay home today” instead of thinking, “God I’m so tired of seeing these people.” I miss having a variety of people to hang out with, rather than seeing the same five or six individuals every hour of every day without any other options because everyone else on the FOB is hanging out with their same group of folks.
I miss real commercials, yes, REAL commercials. I’m not complaining about having television, since we didn’t have it in Afghanistan, but we have AFN (Armed Forces Network), which has been playing the same commercials since AFN’s creation. They’re not even really commercials. I can’t really describe them but they’re directed toward the military and created by the military. I can say that while I was in Australia I actually looked forward to seeing something being sold on TV. I’d take the Sham-Wow guy or Ronco right now…
I miss real conversation. Everything out here usually has something to do with the government collapsing or who’s to blame for the financial collapse. I like to point out that somehow people survived without either in the past and that I don’t plan on just disappearing if something bad happens, not that anything bad will happen. But that doesn’t seem to affect anyone else’s views, they apparently all have some kind of future machine that tells them the world is ending and since their lives are tied directly to the health of the government or the financial system those will end too. Maybe I’ll be the only one left, who knows…
There’s plenty more that I’m excited to get home to either do, or not have to deal with but those are just the things that stand out right now. So does anyone know anyone who’s hiring on the greener side right now?
It’s kind of like a jail sentence without that nasty criminal record and the crime that put you there. I’m sure jail is all candy canes and lollipops in the beginning. You get 3 square meals, cable television, a bed and probably some decent stories. But then you start to realize that you’re stuck, you can’t leave, you can’t do what you want and your cell mate starts looking at you with that sparkle in his eye. That’s when you realize that maybe that crime wasn’t such a good idea. But in my case there isn’t a cell mate, and there wasn’t a crime so it’s just me saying that spending a year chasing after militants is enough.
I’m sure in either situation you start to miss those free days when the wind was flowing through your hair as you cruised down the highway with your windows down on a warm summer day heading in no particular direction at all. That’s why this post was necessary, instead of that yin-yang excuse I was trying to sell earlier. Albeit my sales pitch could probably use some work, but at least I started off with it instead of jumping right into the sparkly eyed cell mate.
But let it be known that the aforementioned freedom is greatly missed, the freedom to do whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted and however I wanted. I miss sleeping in on weekends if I felt like it. Since there are no weekends out here, there isn’t much opportunity to sleep in. Along those same lines, I miss taking that sick day in the middle of the week even though I’m clearly well enough to wake up and make the call into work.
I miss waking up just before the sun rose to go out to Creve Coeur or Forest Park for a 4 to 12 miler. The air smelled clean as I trotted along enjoying the changing scenery with every passing foot. I traded that to spend an hour on the treadmill at the gym. I’m still there before the sunrises but the smell of drying paint is somehow less desirable than the smell of clean air.
I miss seeing friends when I wanted to, or staying in when I didn’t feel like doing anything. To have the option to say, “I think I’m going to stay home today” instead of thinking, “God I’m so tired of seeing these people.” I miss having a variety of people to hang out with, rather than seeing the same five or six individuals every hour of every day without any other options because everyone else on the FOB is hanging out with their same group of folks.
I miss real commercials, yes, REAL commercials. I’m not complaining about having television, since we didn’t have it in Afghanistan, but we have AFN (Armed Forces Network), which has been playing the same commercials since AFN’s creation. They’re not even really commercials. I can’t really describe them but they’re directed toward the military and created by the military. I can say that while I was in Australia I actually looked forward to seeing something being sold on TV. I’d take the Sham-Wow guy or Ronco right now…
I miss real conversation. Everything out here usually has something to do with the government collapsing or who’s to blame for the financial collapse. I like to point out that somehow people survived without either in the past and that I don’t plan on just disappearing if something bad happens, not that anything bad will happen. But that doesn’t seem to affect anyone else’s views, they apparently all have some kind of future machine that tells them the world is ending and since their lives are tied directly to the health of the government or the financial system those will end too. Maybe I’ll be the only one left, who knows…
There’s plenty more that I’m excited to get home to either do, or not have to deal with but those are just the things that stand out right now. So does anyone know anyone who’s hiring on the greener side right now?
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Just Another Tourist
I’ve spent close to a week trying to figure out how to tell the story about my trip to Australia. The problem I’ve run into is that I don’t see much of a story to tell. In the past my travels have led me to all kinds of adventure and excitement. By “in the past” I actually mean my trip to Europe. But this time there wasn’t that pizzazz. It wasn’t like Europe where I went without a plan and met new people and made it up as I went along. This trip was your run of the mill tourist trip, nothing very exciting at all.
I traveled with a friend, so there wasn’t any need to meet anyone else. In hindsight, I would have had more fun traveling alone and hostel hopping but instead there was always a hotel booked and at least something in mind to do. I envied those who were staying at the hostels, they were not only traveling cheap but they were able to connect with new people and hang out with someone other than those they were traveling with.
The trip was a lot of fun, but it just lacked that edginess, the excitement that keeps the words flowing and the pages turning. So instead I’ll just talk about how I’m unable to write anything about it because it just wasn’t exciting enough to write about. Maybe this story was just one to be told over a cold beverage instead of over a keyboard. I can assure you that the next time I go it’ll be me, a car and lots of open road.
I traveled with a friend, so there wasn’t any need to meet anyone else. In hindsight, I would have had more fun traveling alone and hostel hopping but instead there was always a hotel booked and at least something in mind to do. I envied those who were staying at the hostels, they were not only traveling cheap but they were able to connect with new people and hang out with someone other than those they were traveling with.
The trip was a lot of fun, but it just lacked that edginess, the excitement that keeps the words flowing and the pages turning. So instead I’ll just talk about how I’m unable to write anything about it because it just wasn’t exciting enough to write about. Maybe this story was just one to be told over a cold beverage instead of over a keyboard. I can assure you that the next time I go it’ll be me, a car and lots of open road.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
'05 Flat As A Pancake Century
I don't think I ever posted this but found it on my computer. It’s been kind of slow around here, so I’ll go ahead and post it. It was one of the first century rides I did in New Baden, IL around September of 2005.
I woke up this morning debating between hitting the snooze button and falling back asleep or actually gathering my gear and going out to ride my bike for 100 miles. This was going to be the first century ride that I would be doing myself since I started riding. I can tell you for certain that it’s a lot easier to get out there when you know someone else might be waiting on you than it is when you’re going to be hitting the streets alone. I usually like to finish what I start and since technically I started as soon as I signed up, this was going to be no different.
I had just ridden the MS150 a couple weeks ago and it was a rather painful experience given the fact that I’ve never ridden that far on a bike and worse yet was convinced to ride 175 miles rather than the 150 I was lead to believe I was doing. On top of the desire to sleep in, and the idea of being on a bike alone for 5-6 hours, it was also pretty overcast out making my decision even more difficult. Ultimately I decided to mount up and head out despite the warmth my bed was providing.
As I was rolling into IL the clouds loomed overhead. The hour drive felt more like a decade as the rain rolled off of my windshield. When I finally arrived at the starting area, which was in a small park at the center of New Baden, the rain was reduced to a fine drizzle.
“Oh this won’t be so bad. It’ll probably clear up in an hour anyway.” I thought to myself, despite lacking any meteorological backing.
I bobbed and weaved my way around puddles to the registration desk.
“How many people showed up today?” I asked the woman manning the registration box.
“There were about 200 people registered to ride, about 50 have checked in so far.” She responded.
Those numbers seemed reasonable. There are a lot of people who might have signed up and decided not to ride. It was still early and a lot of people might just be running late, plus I’m sure a lot of them went out the night prior and maybe they just weren’t feeling it today. Maybe some of them were sick too… Basically I was thinking of any excuse for why ¾ of the people weren’t there, other than the obvious weather element.
Fortunately, actually more unfortunately, by the time I got my packet the rain had stopped and the sun was peeking through the scattering clouds. Given my propensity for minimalism I decided that since the weather was turning I would just leave my jacket in the car. I wasn’t about to wear it if it was going to get hot and I really don’t like carrying anymore than I need, especially if I have to pedal along with the extra weight. On a side note, I’ve since reconsidered that minimalistic attitude, but not enough to change the habit…
While I was getting my packet and attaching my race numbers to various spots on myself and my bike I met a few people and asked them if I could join their group. Fortunately they saw me as friendly enough, or maybe just not fast enough to catch them, and agreed that an extra rider would be good to have in the draft line. So that took care of the 5-6 hours of loneliness that I wasn’t looking forward to. But as it turned out that wasn’t my main enemy for the day.
As we rolled about a mile outside of the park the rain started again. It was back to the down pour I experienced on the way to the park, except this time I wasn’t within the safety of my vehicle. Despite all signs pointing to the contrary, I decided that I’d keep riding without the jacket, even though it was only a short distance away at this point. It couldn’t possibly rain the ENTIRE time… Could it?
Yes it could… It could rain the whole time and it could rain harder and harder as I got further and further away from my car and my jacket. By the time we’d reached 20 miles our group of 5 to 10 riders had dwindled to 2, me and another guy who happened to ride at the same pace as I was riding at the time. Two guys trying to push the limits of Mother Nature’s fury. But as long as he kept pushing, I would keep pushing, even though it was starting to make less and less sense to do so.
And thus the fury of Mother Nature continued to the point where less and less sense became straight stupid. The rain came in so hard that it fell sideways. The wind blew as if God himself was on a sneezing fit and we were his handkerchief. It was wet, it was cold, and it was awful. My shorts were soaked through to the padding, my jersey clung to me like an insecure girlfriend, and my whole body quivered like I was a freshly delivered baby in Antarctica.
These 100 miles were going to be a test of will. But the reason I got into this was to better myself, and what better way than to push my body and my mind to their operable limits. It was certainly a test. It was like a one question college physics exam meant to take 2 hours. However, in this case I couldn’t just write down all the formulas I remembered and hope to get partial credit for pity, weather pities no one…
The other guy had other incentives for being here. This particular ride was part of the 5-Star Century Series. If you ride all 5 rides you get a free jersey and this was his second to last ride before achieving that goal. He wasn’t as strong as I was on the bike but the desire to get through the last two rides was enough to keep him going as strong as I was and stay on my back wheel as if the earth was crumbling behind us.
No matter which way the route turned we’d hit a head wind. We’d be traveling south into the wind and turn east to get another face full of wind. We’d start turning north, hoping for a little reprieve just to face another disappointment. I was becoming more and more agitated by natures refusal to give me a tail wind. In my delusional and agitated state I started cursing at the weather, luckily the other guy had already fallen behind and wasn’t there to wonder if I was insane. Even though most of the drivers along the road were sure to think we all were.
Around mile 60 was the lunch stop inside the VFW Hall where could get warmed up and dried off. At this point I had been on my bike for about 3 1/2 soaking hours. There were a few others there, which made me feel a little better about riding through the rain. Plus it was another opportunity to hook up with another group of riders and get in another draft line to ease the persistent headwind.
I made a sandwich, grabbed some chips, a drink and sat down. Despite the hard plastic chair, it was far more comfortable than my bike seat at that point. I was able to stretch out a bit and let my legs be free of the restrictiveness of my bike pedals. Plus I was able to talk to some of the others still riding, in addition to the event coordinator, which was a moral boost. Not to mention the fact that I was over half way through with the ride.
Getting back on the bike was tough given the fact that the rain hadn't let up at all. I joined another group of riders during lunch, which I was sure to lose promptly, and sure enough about 20 miles out I dropped off the last wheel of the draft. Being in a line is great. There isn’t any headwind at all because the guy up front is taking the beating. Trouble is that everyone gets their turn and my turn was enough to drop me off the back and I watched, sadly, as the group pushed further and further away.
There were 15 miles left and the rain was coming down harder now than it had all day. I was moving pretty slow now. Between losing that second group, being soaked and cold, the morale boost at lunch wasn’t enough to push me at any good pace through the consistently strong headwind and torrential rain. Then temptation in the form of a couple guys in a flatbed pulled up and asked if I needed a ride. Give up now, so close to the finish or am I close enough that I might as well say I finished? You have to finish what you start and you’re not finished until you’re rolling into the parking lot with a relieved smile across your face. So I declined, and the truck rolled off into the rain.
It wouldn’t be long until I finally reached the town again. The joy of knowing that you’ve battled through everything and have nearly survived is overwhelming. There wasn't a sole in sight, neither in cars nor on bikes. But finishing alone isn’t near as scary as starting alone and that’s how I rolled back into the park, alone.
When I got home and finally watched the weather report I found out that I rode through the leftovers of Hurricane Katrina. I guess it could have been worse, I could have ridden through the hurricane itself.
I woke up this morning debating between hitting the snooze button and falling back asleep or actually gathering my gear and going out to ride my bike for 100 miles. This was going to be the first century ride that I would be doing myself since I started riding. I can tell you for certain that it’s a lot easier to get out there when you know someone else might be waiting on you than it is when you’re going to be hitting the streets alone. I usually like to finish what I start and since technically I started as soon as I signed up, this was going to be no different.
I had just ridden the MS150 a couple weeks ago and it was a rather painful experience given the fact that I’ve never ridden that far on a bike and worse yet was convinced to ride 175 miles rather than the 150 I was lead to believe I was doing. On top of the desire to sleep in, and the idea of being on a bike alone for 5-6 hours, it was also pretty overcast out making my decision even more difficult. Ultimately I decided to mount up and head out despite the warmth my bed was providing.
As I was rolling into IL the clouds loomed overhead. The hour drive felt more like a decade as the rain rolled off of my windshield. When I finally arrived at the starting area, which was in a small park at the center of New Baden, the rain was reduced to a fine drizzle.
“Oh this won’t be so bad. It’ll probably clear up in an hour anyway.” I thought to myself, despite lacking any meteorological backing.
I bobbed and weaved my way around puddles to the registration desk.
“How many people showed up today?” I asked the woman manning the registration box.
“There were about 200 people registered to ride, about 50 have checked in so far.” She responded.
Those numbers seemed reasonable. There are a lot of people who might have signed up and decided not to ride. It was still early and a lot of people might just be running late, plus I’m sure a lot of them went out the night prior and maybe they just weren’t feeling it today. Maybe some of them were sick too… Basically I was thinking of any excuse for why ¾ of the people weren’t there, other than the obvious weather element.
Fortunately, actually more unfortunately, by the time I got my packet the rain had stopped and the sun was peeking through the scattering clouds. Given my propensity for minimalism I decided that since the weather was turning I would just leave my jacket in the car. I wasn’t about to wear it if it was going to get hot and I really don’t like carrying anymore than I need, especially if I have to pedal along with the extra weight. On a side note, I’ve since reconsidered that minimalistic attitude, but not enough to change the habit…
While I was getting my packet and attaching my race numbers to various spots on myself and my bike I met a few people and asked them if I could join their group. Fortunately they saw me as friendly enough, or maybe just not fast enough to catch them, and agreed that an extra rider would be good to have in the draft line. So that took care of the 5-6 hours of loneliness that I wasn’t looking forward to. But as it turned out that wasn’t my main enemy for the day.
As we rolled about a mile outside of the park the rain started again. It was back to the down pour I experienced on the way to the park, except this time I wasn’t within the safety of my vehicle. Despite all signs pointing to the contrary, I decided that I’d keep riding without the jacket, even though it was only a short distance away at this point. It couldn’t possibly rain the ENTIRE time… Could it?
Yes it could… It could rain the whole time and it could rain harder and harder as I got further and further away from my car and my jacket. By the time we’d reached 20 miles our group of 5 to 10 riders had dwindled to 2, me and another guy who happened to ride at the same pace as I was riding at the time. Two guys trying to push the limits of Mother Nature’s fury. But as long as he kept pushing, I would keep pushing, even though it was starting to make less and less sense to do so.
And thus the fury of Mother Nature continued to the point where less and less sense became straight stupid. The rain came in so hard that it fell sideways. The wind blew as if God himself was on a sneezing fit and we were his handkerchief. It was wet, it was cold, and it was awful. My shorts were soaked through to the padding, my jersey clung to me like an insecure girlfriend, and my whole body quivered like I was a freshly delivered baby in Antarctica.
These 100 miles were going to be a test of will. But the reason I got into this was to better myself, and what better way than to push my body and my mind to their operable limits. It was certainly a test. It was like a one question college physics exam meant to take 2 hours. However, in this case I couldn’t just write down all the formulas I remembered and hope to get partial credit for pity, weather pities no one…
The other guy had other incentives for being here. This particular ride was part of the 5-Star Century Series. If you ride all 5 rides you get a free jersey and this was his second to last ride before achieving that goal. He wasn’t as strong as I was on the bike but the desire to get through the last two rides was enough to keep him going as strong as I was and stay on my back wheel as if the earth was crumbling behind us.
No matter which way the route turned we’d hit a head wind. We’d be traveling south into the wind and turn east to get another face full of wind. We’d start turning north, hoping for a little reprieve just to face another disappointment. I was becoming more and more agitated by natures refusal to give me a tail wind. In my delusional and agitated state I started cursing at the weather, luckily the other guy had already fallen behind and wasn’t there to wonder if I was insane. Even though most of the drivers along the road were sure to think we all were.
Around mile 60 was the lunch stop inside the VFW Hall where could get warmed up and dried off. At this point I had been on my bike for about 3 1/2 soaking hours. There were a few others there, which made me feel a little better about riding through the rain. Plus it was another opportunity to hook up with another group of riders and get in another draft line to ease the persistent headwind.
I made a sandwich, grabbed some chips, a drink and sat down. Despite the hard plastic chair, it was far more comfortable than my bike seat at that point. I was able to stretch out a bit and let my legs be free of the restrictiveness of my bike pedals. Plus I was able to talk to some of the others still riding, in addition to the event coordinator, which was a moral boost. Not to mention the fact that I was over half way through with the ride.
Getting back on the bike was tough given the fact that the rain hadn't let up at all. I joined another group of riders during lunch, which I was sure to lose promptly, and sure enough about 20 miles out I dropped off the last wheel of the draft. Being in a line is great. There isn’t any headwind at all because the guy up front is taking the beating. Trouble is that everyone gets their turn and my turn was enough to drop me off the back and I watched, sadly, as the group pushed further and further away.
There were 15 miles left and the rain was coming down harder now than it had all day. I was moving pretty slow now. Between losing that second group, being soaked and cold, the morale boost at lunch wasn’t enough to push me at any good pace through the consistently strong headwind and torrential rain. Then temptation in the form of a couple guys in a flatbed pulled up and asked if I needed a ride. Give up now, so close to the finish or am I close enough that I might as well say I finished? You have to finish what you start and you’re not finished until you’re rolling into the parking lot with a relieved smile across your face. So I declined, and the truck rolled off into the rain.
It wouldn’t be long until I finally reached the town again. The joy of knowing that you’ve battled through everything and have nearly survived is overwhelming. There wasn't a sole in sight, neither in cars nor on bikes. But finishing alone isn’t near as scary as starting alone and that’s how I rolled back into the park, alone.
When I got home and finally watched the weather report I found out that I rode through the leftovers of Hurricane Katrina. I guess it could have been worse, I could have ridden through the hurricane itself.
Thursday, April 1, 2010
Randomly Assorted Candy
You know how all those people who have these near death experiences say that their lives flashed before their eyes? Imagine, in an instant the prior 10, 20, 30 years flip away like an animation in your head. Wouldn’t it be cool to see some of those memories again, even those that you can’t consciously remember?
Somehow on our way out of the dining facility tonight we got on this subject and it kind of stuck in my head. It got me to thinking, how entertaining those last moments of my life would be? Would it be something I’d want to watch or would I just want it to be over with? I’ve never walked out on a movie, then again I’ve never gone to a movie I didn’t want to see, but would I want to walk out on my own near death experience? I should certainly hope not.
I think I’ve based my choices in life on story type experiences. Adventures through Europe, marathons, multiple road trips around the US and of course this little jaunt to the Middle East. I think it would be interesting to revisit those experiences in an unexaggerated form, as I usually add a little pizzazz to my stories. It’s kind of like how Emeril adds a little something to all his dishes… BAM! I guess exaggeration is to stories as spices are to food.
I’d hope during those few seconds that some memories that I don’t consciously remember will sprout back up. I wonder if they would only be good memories to help calm the brain or if memories are chosen at random. If it is random I hope it’s not like getting a box of Runts with more bananas than cherries.
You know you’re excited to get a box of Runts but then you want specific Runts. It’s one of those unanswered questions. Will my near death experience be like a box of Runts with more banana than cherry? I certainly hope not, I really like cherry Runts and I really don’t particularly like banana, but I guess you get what Willy Wonka gives you.
Of course you can substitute whatever box of candy you want, from whatever manufacturer so long as it’s randomly assorted. If I had my choice my near death experience would be a bag of Cherry Pull ‘n Peel Twizzlers.
Somehow on our way out of the dining facility tonight we got on this subject and it kind of stuck in my head. It got me to thinking, how entertaining those last moments of my life would be? Would it be something I’d want to watch or would I just want it to be over with? I’ve never walked out on a movie, then again I’ve never gone to a movie I didn’t want to see, but would I want to walk out on my own near death experience? I should certainly hope not.
I think I’ve based my choices in life on story type experiences. Adventures through Europe, marathons, multiple road trips around the US and of course this little jaunt to the Middle East. I think it would be interesting to revisit those experiences in an unexaggerated form, as I usually add a little pizzazz to my stories. It’s kind of like how Emeril adds a little something to all his dishes… BAM! I guess exaggeration is to stories as spices are to food.
I’d hope during those few seconds that some memories that I don’t consciously remember will sprout back up. I wonder if they would only be good memories to help calm the brain or if memories are chosen at random. If it is random I hope it’s not like getting a box of Runts with more bananas than cherries.
You know you’re excited to get a box of Runts but then you want specific Runts. It’s one of those unanswered questions. Will my near death experience be like a box of Runts with more banana than cherry? I certainly hope not, I really like cherry Runts and I really don’t particularly like banana, but I guess you get what Willy Wonka gives you.
Of course you can substitute whatever box of candy you want, from whatever manufacturer so long as it’s randomly assorted. If I had my choice my near death experience would be a bag of Cherry Pull ‘n Peel Twizzlers.
Saturday, March 20, 2010
180 – 60 = 120
A third of the way through my second journey down the rabbit hole and I’ve discovered that time couldn’t possibly go by any faster, yet seem to go by any slower. I’ve described it before, comparing it to the movie Groundhogs Day. Every single day is almost exactly the same, with various little changes here and there. The key is to remember Rule 32.
So you ask, Jeff… What is Rule 32? Where did it come from?
Rule 32 is from the movie Zombieland and the rule states “Enjoy the Little Things.” Enjoying the little things is exactly what we all try to do every day. For some of us the roses are a little harder to smell, but for simple minded people like me, it’s easy to find the little joys that the higher powers have given us.
What little things?
Well, I’m glad I pretended you asked! I enjoy listening to music and reading about finance. I’ve realized my lost enjoyment of classical and jazz. I enjoy going to the gym with a real workout plan and actually seeing gains again. I enjoy watching my speed increase every time I get on the treadmill.
I enjoy going to the chow hall and finding new ways to top a baked potato or discovering different combinations of vegetables I can pile on my plate. I enjoy keeping myself hungry enough after a previous meal to be very excited for the next.
I enjoy seeing new ways I can set up my launch and recovery controls to optimize my performance. I still haven’t been able to break my previous record of an 8 minute launch, but I can recover faster than anyone else here. I enjoy seeing how quickly I can finish my paper work after recovering. I try to get all my stuff done before they’ve defueled the aircraft so they’re not waiting on me to finish.
I did enjoy watching The Office at night before bed. Now that I’ve finished seasons 1-5, I’m going to go back to enjoying watching a movie every night while sipping on a Diet Sprite and trying to figure out how I can cram another gym session into my day.
I enjoy playing Scrabble, seeing how effective I can get by playing the computer and turn around and try to beat some of my more seasoned friends. I enjoy trying to find that perfect combination of Triple Letter Scores, ‘A’s and a well placed Z to get that 62 point word with that one letter. I enjoy getting Bingos and seeing what strange new combinations of letters that I thought couldn’t possibly be a word turn out to be words.
I enjoy reading long emails. It reminds me that the world isn’t as big as it once was and it makes the time pass just that little bit faster.
I enjoy knowing that in 120 days I’ll be back home, in my own bed, without mutant spiders and rockets.
I enjoy reminding myself about Rule 32 and I think you should enjoy that too.
So you ask, Jeff… What is Rule 32? Where did it come from?
Rule 32 is from the movie Zombieland and the rule states “Enjoy the Little Things.” Enjoying the little things is exactly what we all try to do every day. For some of us the roses are a little harder to smell, but for simple minded people like me, it’s easy to find the little joys that the higher powers have given us.
What little things?
Well, I’m glad I pretended you asked! I enjoy listening to music and reading about finance. I’ve realized my lost enjoyment of classical and jazz. I enjoy going to the gym with a real workout plan and actually seeing gains again. I enjoy watching my speed increase every time I get on the treadmill.
I enjoy going to the chow hall and finding new ways to top a baked potato or discovering different combinations of vegetables I can pile on my plate. I enjoy keeping myself hungry enough after a previous meal to be very excited for the next.
I enjoy seeing new ways I can set up my launch and recovery controls to optimize my performance. I still haven’t been able to break my previous record of an 8 minute launch, but I can recover faster than anyone else here. I enjoy seeing how quickly I can finish my paper work after recovering. I try to get all my stuff done before they’ve defueled the aircraft so they’re not waiting on me to finish.
I did enjoy watching The Office at night before bed. Now that I’ve finished seasons 1-5, I’m going to go back to enjoying watching a movie every night while sipping on a Diet Sprite and trying to figure out how I can cram another gym session into my day.
I enjoy playing Scrabble, seeing how effective I can get by playing the computer and turn around and try to beat some of my more seasoned friends. I enjoy trying to find that perfect combination of Triple Letter Scores, ‘A’s and a well placed Z to get that 62 point word with that one letter. I enjoy getting Bingos and seeing what strange new combinations of letters that I thought couldn’t possibly be a word turn out to be words.
I enjoy reading long emails. It reminds me that the world isn’t as big as it once was and it makes the time pass just that little bit faster.
I enjoy knowing that in 120 days I’ll be back home, in my own bed, without mutant spiders and rockets.
I enjoy reminding myself about Rule 32 and I think you should enjoy that too.
Sunday, February 21, 2010
I Hope That’s Just Sweat…
A few days ago I had this interesting dream. I dreamt that I was lying in bed, and this bubble bee had found its way into my living container. I’m always paranoid that one of those nasty camel spiders is going to find its way into my room and crawl on me. If you haven’t seen a camel spider there is a picture of one on my Facebook page that we caught while I was in Afghanistan. It’s the one that we had a funeral for after it died. She… He… It was our site mascot for a few days until its passing.
Anyway, in this dream I was lying in bed and heard this awful loud buzzing around me. I started swatting at it, in an ill fated attempt to kill it. I say ill fated because I woke myself up as I slammed my hand against the wall. In that phase between awake and asleep I could really hear a faint buzz but wasn’t sure if I was still dreaming or not. Then a sudden BOOM followed by “INCOMING INCOMING INCOMING” from the rocket attack alarm.
That same alarm has gone off 8 times in the past 10 days, but most of the rockets haven’t landed close enough to hear or feel. So the sound of one of them landing so close startled me. I thought to myself… “I hope that’s just sweat” regarding the moisture in my shorts. I got out of bed in time to hear another BOOM! The alarm continued, unlike before when it would stop and there would be a period of silence before the all clear. Then another BOOM, which rattled the poorly insulated walls of my trailer. These were followed by three more thuds off in the distance somewhere, yet close enough to hear. At this point I was seriously considering making a break for the bunkers.
I put on a shirt and stood for moment and listened to see if the others were leaving their trailers. I said something in one of my previous posts, while out in Afghanistan, about only getting panicked if others were, never mind survival of the fittest, I’m a lemming. Since I didn’t hear anyone else freaking out I got back into bed and hoped that that dream wasn’t going to be my last.
Then another BOOM thundered through the darkness, which wasn’t as close as the first wall rattler but close enough to create a little rumble. Still I didn’t hear anyone else making a run for it. So I thought, well if I leave now I’ll have to sit in the cold by myself until the all clear, so I’ll take my chances here. At some point I also said something about not wanting to die alone, I’ll add alone in cold now.
The alarm finally stopped and I waited, silently, listening for that unholy buzz of rockets. Nothing… Nothing… Nothing… Then the alarms woke back up, but this time sounding the all clear. I fell back asleep for that last few hours I had before having to head to work.
When I woke up the second time that night I did my regular nightly routine. I work nights, so you can consider it a daily routine if it makes you feel better. I headed for the showers to clean the fear off myself, you know because those jackals can smell fear. The winds were very high because of a fast moving storm front, so I double timed it for the showers. After getting all squeaky clean and brushing my teeth I double timed it back, so as not to get unclean from windblown dust, and got ready for work.
I normally have some time before we leave to sit and relax for a minute, so I busted out my iPhone, sat on my bed and started playing Plants vs. Zombies. Without warning a thunderous crack shook my entire trailer like an earthquake just hit. It was like Chicken Little showed up but forgot to tell me that the freaking sky was falling. My heart stopped… After I realized that I wasn’t dead I thought to myself “Well ‘f’ this, I’m getting out of here.”
I grabbed my stuff went outside to find that it was only lightening this time. The guys were already in the car waiting for me. They said that they were momentarily blinded by Zeus’s fury. I made that up, the fury part, not the blindness… They didn’t actually say Zeus’s fury but I’ll start using that to reference any lightning bolt that falls within 500 yards of my present location. One of them said they felt their heart stop, the other said he could feel all his hairs stand up.
We high tailed it to the site, all the while the sky looked like there was an intergalactic laser light show happening. I have never been so happy to A.) Still be in one piece and B.) Not been a victim of Zeus’s fury. Thank god it really was just sweat…
Anyway, in this dream I was lying in bed and heard this awful loud buzzing around me. I started swatting at it, in an ill fated attempt to kill it. I say ill fated because I woke myself up as I slammed my hand against the wall. In that phase between awake and asleep I could really hear a faint buzz but wasn’t sure if I was still dreaming or not. Then a sudden BOOM followed by “INCOMING INCOMING INCOMING” from the rocket attack alarm.
That same alarm has gone off 8 times in the past 10 days, but most of the rockets haven’t landed close enough to hear or feel. So the sound of one of them landing so close startled me. I thought to myself… “I hope that’s just sweat” regarding the moisture in my shorts. I got out of bed in time to hear another BOOM! The alarm continued, unlike before when it would stop and there would be a period of silence before the all clear. Then another BOOM, which rattled the poorly insulated walls of my trailer. These were followed by three more thuds off in the distance somewhere, yet close enough to hear. At this point I was seriously considering making a break for the bunkers.
I put on a shirt and stood for moment and listened to see if the others were leaving their trailers. I said something in one of my previous posts, while out in Afghanistan, about only getting panicked if others were, never mind survival of the fittest, I’m a lemming. Since I didn’t hear anyone else freaking out I got back into bed and hoped that that dream wasn’t going to be my last.
Then another BOOM thundered through the darkness, which wasn’t as close as the first wall rattler but close enough to create a little rumble. Still I didn’t hear anyone else making a run for it. So I thought, well if I leave now I’ll have to sit in the cold by myself until the all clear, so I’ll take my chances here. At some point I also said something about not wanting to die alone, I’ll add alone in cold now.
The alarm finally stopped and I waited, silently, listening for that unholy buzz of rockets. Nothing… Nothing… Nothing… Then the alarms woke back up, but this time sounding the all clear. I fell back asleep for that last few hours I had before having to head to work.
When I woke up the second time that night I did my regular nightly routine. I work nights, so you can consider it a daily routine if it makes you feel better. I headed for the showers to clean the fear off myself, you know because those jackals can smell fear. The winds were very high because of a fast moving storm front, so I double timed it for the showers. After getting all squeaky clean and brushing my teeth I double timed it back, so as not to get unclean from windblown dust, and got ready for work.
I normally have some time before we leave to sit and relax for a minute, so I busted out my iPhone, sat on my bed and started playing Plants vs. Zombies. Without warning a thunderous crack shook my entire trailer like an earthquake just hit. It was like Chicken Little showed up but forgot to tell me that the freaking sky was falling. My heart stopped… After I realized that I wasn’t dead I thought to myself “Well ‘f’ this, I’m getting out of here.”
I grabbed my stuff went outside to find that it was only lightening this time. The guys were already in the car waiting for me. They said that they were momentarily blinded by Zeus’s fury. I made that up, the fury part, not the blindness… They didn’t actually say Zeus’s fury but I’ll start using that to reference any lightning bolt that falls within 500 yards of my present location. One of them said they felt their heart stop, the other said he could feel all his hairs stand up.
We high tailed it to the site, all the while the sky looked like there was an intergalactic laser light show happening. I have never been so happy to A.) Still be in one piece and B.) Not been a victim of Zeus’s fury. Thank god it really was just sweat…
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Unmistakable Lack of Something
I’ve been at this site in Iraq for nearly a month now, give or take a week. Honestly I have no idea how long I’ve been out here since the lack of change make the days roll into each other. But one thing I discovered today is that I’m missing something here that made me happier in Afghanistan.
Life here is noticeably nicer than it was at my previous location. I have my own living container, which is roughly 16x8 foot trailer complete with air conditioning, power and a small refrigerator, courtesy of the last guy who lived here. I have a memory foam mattress pad given to me by a new friend who left a couple weeks after I arrived and a completely carpeted floor thanks to the Post Exchange and about $15. Indeed, the living conditions are nothing to look down upon.
The dining facility is second to none. The building is a brand new Costco sized monstrosity complete with smoothie bar and ice cream. I’m trying to get people to call it the “buffet” instead of the “chow hall” but my lack of persistence has resulted in failure. Nonetheless, the food there is nearly 10x better than that in Afghanistan and quality thus far is just shy of the stuff you can find in your grocery store frozen food aisle, not the like TV dinners I was having before. Yup, life out here isn’t bad at all.
So then, why am I saying there is an unmistakable lack of something? Well I said it so there must be something right? As they say the grass is always greener. For some reason when I woke up this particular day I felt a little somber. For some reason this memory foam pad atop this decent twin sized bed felt less comfortable than the cots I was in. The privacy gained isn’t near as nice as having a bunch of guys living in a tent.
I wondered how was it possible, given all these bells and whistles, that I was still somehow unhappy? (Unhappy is probably the wrong word, so think of something half way between happy and unhappy) Then it hit me, like a freight train it hit me. It was that unmistakable lack of camaraderie. The jovial attitude you get when you put a bunch of 20-somethings in an austere environment and tell them to work together. The fact is, yes we worked in Afghanistan, but at that time it felt like it was more play.
I had fun in Afghanistan. I enjoyed hanging out with everyone there and hopefully I was able to extend the same feelings to others around me. I found myself wishing I was waking up in a cot, covered in sand with a camel spider crawling through my stuff. I’d go as far to say that I missed to food, but I haven’t completely lost it yet.
But there is that missing puzzle piece that will probably never be replaced, because even if I had returned to that same place in Afghanistan everyone would already have left. If I walk away with one lesson from this entire experience it will be that no matter how many luxuries you have the people are what really matter. Either that or it’s the fact that my cigars are locked in one of our guy’s foot locker.
Life here is noticeably nicer than it was at my previous location. I have my own living container, which is roughly 16x8 foot trailer complete with air conditioning, power and a small refrigerator, courtesy of the last guy who lived here. I have a memory foam mattress pad given to me by a new friend who left a couple weeks after I arrived and a completely carpeted floor thanks to the Post Exchange and about $15. Indeed, the living conditions are nothing to look down upon.
The dining facility is second to none. The building is a brand new Costco sized monstrosity complete with smoothie bar and ice cream. I’m trying to get people to call it the “buffet” instead of the “chow hall” but my lack of persistence has resulted in failure. Nonetheless, the food there is nearly 10x better than that in Afghanistan and quality thus far is just shy of the stuff you can find in your grocery store frozen food aisle, not the like TV dinners I was having before. Yup, life out here isn’t bad at all.
So then, why am I saying there is an unmistakable lack of something? Well I said it so there must be something right? As they say the grass is always greener. For some reason when I woke up this particular day I felt a little somber. For some reason this memory foam pad atop this decent twin sized bed felt less comfortable than the cots I was in. The privacy gained isn’t near as nice as having a bunch of guys living in a tent.
I wondered how was it possible, given all these bells and whistles, that I was still somehow unhappy? (Unhappy is probably the wrong word, so think of something half way between happy and unhappy) Then it hit me, like a freight train it hit me. It was that unmistakable lack of camaraderie. The jovial attitude you get when you put a bunch of 20-somethings in an austere environment and tell them to work together. The fact is, yes we worked in Afghanistan, but at that time it felt like it was more play.
I had fun in Afghanistan. I enjoyed hanging out with everyone there and hopefully I was able to extend the same feelings to others around me. I found myself wishing I was waking up in a cot, covered in sand with a camel spider crawling through my stuff. I’d go as far to say that I missed to food, but I haven’t completely lost it yet.
But there is that missing puzzle piece that will probably never be replaced, because even if I had returned to that same place in Afghanistan everyone would already have left. If I walk away with one lesson from this entire experience it will be that no matter how many luxuries you have the people are what really matter. Either that or it’s the fact that my cigars are locked in one of our guy’s foot locker.
Saturday, February 6, 2010
FAQ
I always get these off the wall questions from various people and it leads me to believe that people don't realize what really is going on out here.
Your Questions Answered...
Q: What do you do on weekends?
A: I don’t have weekends, I work 7 days a week 12 hours a day. There isn’t a single person out here who has a weekend off. It’s the sacrifice a lot of these guys make so everyone can sit at home completely oblivious to what’s happening out here.
Q: Do you go in to town at all?
A: No, the last time the soldiers did a foot patrol in town one was killed by a sniper, this isn’t club med or a tourist spot, it’s a war zone.
Q: How’s the food?
A: It’s definitely not as bad as it was in Afghanistan with the Marine Corps. The downside is that most of the people on post could use a few hours on the treadmill.
Q: Is it dangerous?
A: Are you serious? We’re surrounded by less than friendly locals. The country borders some of the least US-friendly countries in the world who have more than enough capability to wipe our base off the face of the earth. I get tired of that question… There’s a reason why the soldiers have to carry around their rifles, and they have monthly tests of the indirect fire alarm system.
Q: Do you get attacked?
A: We get rocketed every once in a while. If you can hear the explosion and feel the impact it means you’re still alive.
Q: Are you scared?
A: Not really. The way I figure it, if I go so does everyone else here and I don’t like the idea of dying alone. Plus those guys have bad aim...
Q: Do you talk to any of the locals?
A: Only the ones who work on base.
Q: Did you learn the language?
A: No, again, you don’t leave base. This isn’t a tourist spot. People need to get that out of their heads.
I also get tired of hearing people complain about their jobs. Everyone has every right to complain but choose wisely who you complain to. I don't care that you're pulling 10 hour days and working weekends... I don't care that you're meeting ran an extra 30 minutes or that someone at work is pissing you off.
I have 12 hour days non-negotiable, no chance for a weekend, sick day or vacation. I live with the people I work with so I have to spend 24 hours a day with them eating, sleeping and working. If I don't get along with them, tough luck...
At least you have the option for weekends, no one is forcing you to work. At least you can go home and get away from the people that irritate you and you get to sleep in your own bed and eat where ever and what ever you want.
I'm very lucky that I get a long with everyone, I enjoy the food and I was built to work extended hours but that doesn't mean I want to hear everyone else complain to me about their jobs. I happen to like mine, despite the work location...
Your Questions Answered...
Q: What do you do on weekends?
A: I don’t have weekends, I work 7 days a week 12 hours a day. There isn’t a single person out here who has a weekend off. It’s the sacrifice a lot of these guys make so everyone can sit at home completely oblivious to what’s happening out here.
Q: Do you go in to town at all?
A: No, the last time the soldiers did a foot patrol in town one was killed by a sniper, this isn’t club med or a tourist spot, it’s a war zone.
Q: How’s the food?
A: It’s definitely not as bad as it was in Afghanistan with the Marine Corps. The downside is that most of the people on post could use a few hours on the treadmill.
Q: Is it dangerous?
A: Are you serious? We’re surrounded by less than friendly locals. The country borders some of the least US-friendly countries in the world who have more than enough capability to wipe our base off the face of the earth. I get tired of that question… There’s a reason why the soldiers have to carry around their rifles, and they have monthly tests of the indirect fire alarm system.
Q: Do you get attacked?
A: We get rocketed every once in a while. If you can hear the explosion and feel the impact it means you’re still alive.
Q: Are you scared?
A: Not really. The way I figure it, if I go so does everyone else here and I don’t like the idea of dying alone. Plus those guys have bad aim...
Q: Do you talk to any of the locals?
A: Only the ones who work on base.
Q: Did you learn the language?
A: No, again, you don’t leave base. This isn’t a tourist spot. People need to get that out of their heads.
I also get tired of hearing people complain about their jobs. Everyone has every right to complain but choose wisely who you complain to. I don't care that you're pulling 10 hour days and working weekends... I don't care that you're meeting ran an extra 30 minutes or that someone at work is pissing you off.
I have 12 hour days non-negotiable, no chance for a weekend, sick day or vacation. I live with the people I work with so I have to spend 24 hours a day with them eating, sleeping and working. If I don't get along with them, tough luck...
At least you have the option for weekends, no one is forcing you to work. At least you can go home and get away from the people that irritate you and you get to sleep in your own bed and eat where ever and what ever you want.
I'm very lucky that I get a long with everyone, I enjoy the food and I was built to work extended hours but that doesn't mean I want to hear everyone else complain to me about their jobs. I happen to like mine, despite the work location...
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Making Friends Since 1981
I’m on my last domestic flight before leaving the country for yet another 6 month funfest in the Middle East. This past week was spent processing through Fort Benning, which consisted of turning in paperwork, checking boxes and training for the worst (and by worst I mean if I ever have to use this training you’re damn sure I’m not going to survive anyway). With the help of my predecessors I was prepared and able to leave one day early, meaning an extra night at home. Overall this was a very productive weekend despite waiting in long lines and sitting through worthless scare-tactic courses. I say it was productive not because I successfully processed through, but because I was able to befriend a few new people. It all started on the flight down to Atlanta last Friday.
I was ready for my regular flight routine. Fall asleep during taxi and takeoff, wake up in time for the electronic devices usage announcement, pop in the head phones and rock out until the soda cart rolled by. There are a few occasions that this does not happen as planned and this was to be one of those.
There I was sitting in my window seat, iPod in one hand and headphones in the other staring out said window as the luggage handlers loaded the plane. Next thing I know my hopes for having an entire row to myself were dashed as a couple, girlfriend/boyfriend, sat down in the middle and aisle seat next to me. I’m not sure why I always hope for my own row, it rarely ever happens… But no matter, this time my dashed hopes turned into new friends that I hope to continue to talk to in the future. Obviously the timing couldn’t have been worse though…
The guy was from Taiwan, he came to the states when he was a teenager and went to college on the east coast. He was working in Saint Louis now and presumably enjoying his job. The girl was originally from Saint Louis, of course “the question” came up and I discovered she went to the same high school as a lot of my friends. We talked the entire flight, I put away my iPod and rather than listening to Jack Johnson or Death Cab, I instead enjoyed some good old fashion conversation.
They told me about their recent trip to Taiwan and I told them about my future trip to Iraq. We exchanged contact information upon arrival in Atlanta and subsequently began my wait for my flight to Columbus, which became a story in itself. But we can talk about that some other time.
A couple weeks prior to me leaving for Fort Benning a friend of mine from Afghanistan told me a friend of his from the Marine Corps was going to be there as well. I was supposed to get the contact information for his friend but he forgot to pass it along and I didn’t really pester him about it because I would have been perfectly content hiding in my hotel room and being antisocial.
The first morning of processing I was standing in line to check in chatting with a group of other contractors. We were discussing a contractor’s favorite topic, our respective companies or more importantly the shortcomings of our respective companies. I was describing my company in as little detail as possible when someone behind me in line chimed in.
“Insitu?”
“Yeah… Who do you work for?”
“Evergreen”
“Really? Do you know…”
“Yeah, he’s my boy we were in the marines together”
BAM! Instant friendship! How fortunate was I that out of 450 people, the guy I happened to have 2 degrees of separation from happened to be the person right behind me in line? Once again, my guardian angel was looking out for me because in reality I would not have been content hiding in my hotel room or being antisocial. What’s even better is that once I meet one person I generally start absorbing others too. Soon enough our group of 2 became 3 with the addition of an off-the-wall, class clown from Tennessee.
We were like a bad joke… a marine, an army guy and an engineer walk into a steak house… add your own punch line. It made the week go by so much faster and made every minute a lot more enjoyable than it could have been. Even when I was catching my flight back to Saint Louis I thought about some of the things that happened. I think people thought I was crazy because I was standing in line on the jet way laughing, most of which is best left for a face to face chat. Despite the long hours and the hopefully pointless training, the week turned out to be very fun.
So now you find me typing away on my flight back to the Middle East. With 2 vodka tonics down, I’m looking forward to reuniting with some friends from Afghanistan. We’ll be one man down but we’ll still be going strong. Even though the new location is ten times better, I still hope that this experience will be as good as the last.
I was ready for my regular flight routine. Fall asleep during taxi and takeoff, wake up in time for the electronic devices usage announcement, pop in the head phones and rock out until the soda cart rolled by. There are a few occasions that this does not happen as planned and this was to be one of those.
There I was sitting in my window seat, iPod in one hand and headphones in the other staring out said window as the luggage handlers loaded the plane. Next thing I know my hopes for having an entire row to myself were dashed as a couple, girlfriend/boyfriend, sat down in the middle and aisle seat next to me. I’m not sure why I always hope for my own row, it rarely ever happens… But no matter, this time my dashed hopes turned into new friends that I hope to continue to talk to in the future. Obviously the timing couldn’t have been worse though…
The guy was from Taiwan, he came to the states when he was a teenager and went to college on the east coast. He was working in Saint Louis now and presumably enjoying his job. The girl was originally from Saint Louis, of course “the question” came up and I discovered she went to the same high school as a lot of my friends. We talked the entire flight, I put away my iPod and rather than listening to Jack Johnson or Death Cab, I instead enjoyed some good old fashion conversation.
They told me about their recent trip to Taiwan and I told them about my future trip to Iraq. We exchanged contact information upon arrival in Atlanta and subsequently began my wait for my flight to Columbus, which became a story in itself. But we can talk about that some other time.
A couple weeks prior to me leaving for Fort Benning a friend of mine from Afghanistan told me a friend of his from the Marine Corps was going to be there as well. I was supposed to get the contact information for his friend but he forgot to pass it along and I didn’t really pester him about it because I would have been perfectly content hiding in my hotel room and being antisocial.
The first morning of processing I was standing in line to check in chatting with a group of other contractors. We were discussing a contractor’s favorite topic, our respective companies or more importantly the shortcomings of our respective companies. I was describing my company in as little detail as possible when someone behind me in line chimed in.
“Insitu?”
“Yeah… Who do you work for?”
“Evergreen”
“Really? Do you know…”
“Yeah, he’s my boy we were in the marines together”
BAM! Instant friendship! How fortunate was I that out of 450 people, the guy I happened to have 2 degrees of separation from happened to be the person right behind me in line? Once again, my guardian angel was looking out for me because in reality I would not have been content hiding in my hotel room or being antisocial. What’s even better is that once I meet one person I generally start absorbing others too. Soon enough our group of 2 became 3 with the addition of an off-the-wall, class clown from Tennessee.
We were like a bad joke… a marine, an army guy and an engineer walk into a steak house… add your own punch line. It made the week go by so much faster and made every minute a lot more enjoyable than it could have been. Even when I was catching my flight back to Saint Louis I thought about some of the things that happened. I think people thought I was crazy because I was standing in line on the jet way laughing, most of which is best left for a face to face chat. Despite the long hours and the hopefully pointless training, the week turned out to be very fun.
So now you find me typing away on my flight back to the Middle East. With 2 vodka tonics down, I’m looking forward to reuniting with some friends from Afghanistan. We’ll be one man down but we’ll still be going strong. Even though the new location is ten times better, I still hope that this experience will be as good as the last.
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