10 States, 2 Adventurers and 1 River

Admiration and envy. I have both for great river explorers like Lewis and Clark and their Discovery Corps, and John Wesley Powell, who with a handful of men by his side, made a deadly effort to chart a river passage through the Grand Canyon. Oh, but my admiration and envy reached new heights this summer when my wife, Shannan, and her father, Dave, traveled the Great River Road of America’s mightiest river, the Mississippi. Beginning at its humble trickle from Lake Itasca in Minnesota, the two adventurers started their modern day expedition.

 

Not only did they follow the powerful and majestic river as it snakes its way through ten states, but the father and daughter team enjoyed the sights, sounds and people in the heartland of the United States. Along the way Shannan and Dave encountered Americana past and present including the likes of the Civil War, Paul Bunyan and Babe, John Deere, Laura Ingalls Wilder, Joseph Smith, Mark Twain, American Eagles, southern plantations, of course a riverboat cruise, and modern time’s infamous contribution to the mix, fast food.

A ten day bona fide road trip for the sake of the road itself is a vacation few contemporary families value. “What do you do? What do you get?” parents and children alike might ask. If being together on a father/daughter trip were not enough, then I contend the answer is: Dave and Shannan saw and interacted with the magnificent landscape of North America. They felt the full force of history while envisioning the future. They were imbued with the spirit and legacy of the river itself. Shannan and Dave lived as the Mississippi lives.

I remain impressed and jealous.

Tom

Cruising with the Clinic

Around the fourth of July I noted that it’s no accident I like running. It provides an excellent opportunity to engage in exercise without the need for socialization. Loners love the sport. I mentioned at the end of the Insanity 60 Day Challenge that for my next endeavor I planned to join a 12 week running clinic. I understand that in and of itself the concept of a running group stands in contrast to the loner position.

Nonetheless, I was excited about the prospect. We woke up early and Shannan and I milled around the house. I packed my running bag, made a fruit smoothie and we decided to drive to the convenience store for coffee. To my surprise, time zipped along faster than I had noticed. It was already 7:07 a.m., and I needed to be across town, NOW. I drove faster than I like to do and arrived at the starting point for the running clinic two minutes tardy.

The parking lot was packed, holiday shopping style. I later learned that three running groups meet at the same place. Luckily, with it being the first day, our group hadn’t started running yet. I made a quick stop in the restroom. When I returned the groups had separated. The folks running the longer distance had left already. I hurried behind.

A good number of runners cruised through the parking lot and filed onto the sidewalk, creating a thick bottle neck. Thirty or so people moved slowly on the narrow concrete path. I had every intention of running with the pack. I didn’t mind the reduced speed, so much as being crammed together. I desperately wanted to be free. Finally, a fellow made a move to the outside and began to pass. I followed.

We ran in tandem for a couple of miles, no conversation--just running amid upscale office parks, then out in the remnant of farms that soon will succumb to the ever-encroaching urban sprawl. It was a cool morning and a perfect day to be outside. For me, the five miler turned out to be a strong run. Back at our assembly area one of the coaches shared stretching techniques. I picked up several new ones. Participants made casual introductions. I’m looking forward to the next three months of running and learning. I may even practice my grossly lacking social skills.

Tom

Work in a Run

Shannan and I once had a layover in Denver, CO. At that point in time I had never been to the Rocky Mountain State. I wanted desperately to get in a run while there. Keep in mind this was post September 11, 2001. Even still, I couldn’t deny the urge or waste the opportunity. I took my identification and boarding pass and placed them in a plastic bag, which I shoved into the leg of my sock. While Shannan remained in the gate area, I exited the airport terminal and ran for thirty three minutes around the parking lot.

I admit it wasn’t the most scenic experience I have had as a runner, but it was nice. The landscape was as expected--pavement, cars and parking decks. To my surprise, though, multitudes of jackrabbits ran about the impervious surface and took cover in the sparse shrubbery to each side. Occasionally, I felt a little bit goofy jogging in a parking lot. Several travelers shook their heads at me in disbelief.

When I had preserved The Streak, I re-entered the airport. I stopped in the restroom for a quick clean up and to get some hand towels. Of course, these bathrooms were equipped with air dryers. I continued to sweat as I moved through the security line. I knew this looked bad and felt sure I would be selected for a security check. However, I moved through with no problem whatsoever. I count myself lucky and I have no intention of ever doing that again.

Run safely.

Tom

September 11th and the Singleton

Saturday, September 15, 2001, Shannan and I refused to give in to terrorism and abandon our plans for a weekend of camping at Stone Mountain. Park staff handed out miniature American Flags for the handful of campers who came out following the atrocities that happened in Pennsylvania, Virginia and New York and struck horror in the lives of all Americans here and abroad on the frightful morning of September the 11th. We affixed our flag to the pole of the tent for solidarity as much as patriotism.

For years I had wanted to take part in the Atlanta Track Club Grand Prix series, but managed to always find an excuse to miss the races. Perhaps this year provided the best excuse ever. Nevertheless, I found the inner drive to say “yes” to the “no.” I was firm in my resolve and following the attacks that fateful Tuesday morning I committed to the task. Running was one of the things I did, and in the face of terrorism Americans were encouraged to get back to life as a means of not being victimized. So I ran.

A small, yet critical mass of runners showed up for the Singleton 5 and 10 mile races. The Track Club gave out red, white and blue ribbons for the runners to wear. We did so with pride. I ran the ten mile race and finished in a respectable time of a time of 1 hour and 13 minutes. However, I think each of us out there that morning ran for something more than time.

Today, on Sept 11, 2010, I ran the Singleton 5 mile race. Last year, the race moved from Stone Mountain Park to Tucker, GA. The route takes runners through working class neighborhoods filled with churches and houses with character and people who form the backbone of this nation. Our course allowed us to get a glimpse of the newly remodeled Tucker Middle School and pass local shops and businesses in the heart of the old downtown Tucker. Many flags were out, given the significance of the day. I particularly enjoyed running the course as I felt a great deal of pride. I liked looking at the people who stood in their yards watching, the volunteers who held out water, the police officers who blocked traffic and the taste of Americana in this metropolitan suburb.

Albeit one small town in the American south, I felt an overall message that no matter what, we are still standing. Sure there’s a mess in the world and Osama bin Laden remains at large, but the work of terrorism and scare tactics didn’t work nine years ago and still aren’t working today.

It was a good day to run, a good race, a good course, and a good time to be an American.

Tom

Take It Easy

Take it easy. I told myself I’d take it easy when I decided to run a 5K race a couple of weekends ago. I haven’t participated in a road race for almost exactly a year. My running coach for the half marathon gave me a pre-clinic prep schedule, which included the 3.1 mile race. So, I stuck to the schedule.

Regardless of my self-talk, I awoke Saturday morning without feeling calm. So much for the “take it easy” business. I felt all the same old pre-race jitters and nerves. We arrived at the race to see many familiar faces. Most of them have been running the Grand Prix Series for at least the 10 years I’ve been around. I feel confident many have been at it a lot longer than that.

Stretching, sprinting, warm up jogs--people engaged in their customary preparatory acts. I like to look around for a while and then have a slow warm up run. I prefer to finish running with just a couple of minutes before the start of the race. I did just that.

Ready. Set. Go. I intentionally joined the back of the group to run slower. My thoughts moved faster than my feet. I looked at my watch. I took in the landscape. I prayed. I glanced at my watch. I thought about the course. I checked my watch. Bunched up in the pack I kept telling myself to take it easy. I pushed the hills and thought I’d have lots of gas for the finish.

Finally, I could take no more and sped around the others. It was too late. I finished in twenty-three minutes and change, a personal record for my slowest 5K. Prior to the race I planned for a nice and easy twenty-five minutes, yet mentally I struggled with the finish time. The good news is I finished the race with no injuries. I felt good and truthfully it was a nice return to racing. In the end, the “take it easy” method worked.

I’ll test the engines again in September with a five mile race as the circuit begins.

Tom

Summer Sensations

Labor Day marks the unofficial end of summer. I, for one, enjoyed the smoking hot summer we had in the south. Historically, one of the things I love about summer is that if you remove the heat and humidity, so many other sensations abound which also identify the season.

You know it’s summer from that undeniable smell of chlorine in the pool, fish at the lake, salt of the ocean, sunscreen (do people still use sun tan oil?), freshly mowed lawns, and the aromatic smoke from BBQ grills.

It sure feels like a summer day when you go strolling through the grass and push your toes around in the morning dew. What a blast it is to take a walk in the late afternoon, feeling the sun beaming down on your head and shoulders with hot earth under your bare feet.

It looks a lot like summer to see plants and gardens in full bloom, friends with bright red sun burns, peeling skin, or deep Caribbean tans. My all time favorite is the sudden illumination of a lightning bug on a warm summer’s evening.

You can sit out on the porch and enjoy a concert of insects and night creatures frolicking, fighting, hunting and mating.

As a southerner, I don’t know if it gets any better than eating vine ripe fresh tomatoes or juicy watermelon with friends and family

As the autumnal solstice rapidly approaches, I must confess I don’t believe you have to be a kid to love summer.

Live lively.

Tom

Gracias por todos

During our outings the day before I spotted an odd street side park not far from our hotel. Since the room was on the seventh floor, I didn’t want to be a nuisance and engage in the noisy exercises of Insanity. Thus, I thought this awkwardly placed public park would work just fine. For the most part it did. I hadn’t thought about the dirt, which I kicked up and nearly choked on several times. Mixed with the heavy sweating, I must have looked like a troglodyte. Several folks, including local police, stopped to watch me. I kept going and all turned out fine.

Once I finished the routine I returned the mini DVD player to the room and took off to explore just a bit more of Barcelona. I so enjoy the funny things you see while running, such as a woman in a terry cloth robe tending her rooftop garden. Two elderly gentlemen having a cordial, yet firm argument on a sidewalk bench. Shopkeepers smoking cigarettes while unloading fresh bread.

I sprinted across spacious, tree-lined sidewalks, taking in the sights of the morning and reflecting on those from the previous day. I likened Spain to Babylon from days of old. This romantic, beautiful and strategically placed country has long been revered as a cultural center for sports, arts, music, dance, food, drink and groundbreaking architecture. Holding true to their roots and keeping pace with the times the modern urban areas practice sophistication with ease and grace.

Traffic flowed well in the busy morning hours, especially for a highly populated city the likes of Barcelona. Busses, taxis, bikes, scooters, numerous walkers and a fair amount of joggers all made their way in harmony. Time did as it does and ran out on me. I had to get back to prepare to head to the airport for a full day of travel. I said a prayer and found myself calm, centered and ready for the day. Graicas por todos, Espana.

Tom

Espana

Shannan and I had arrived in Barcelona nine days previously, took a taxi to the port and sailed away before evening. We saw every bit of twenty-five minutes of road between the airport and the dock looking through a cab window. Albeit nice, we didn’t get much of a flavor for the city. Today, we would remedy that. I had finished my Insanity workout and had a final run on the ship. It was time to explore the wonders of Espana.

Direct from the ship we took a bus tour to Montserrat where we visited Santa Maria, a Benedictine Abbey, which houses the revered and venerated Black Madonna. The ride to, and walk within, the monastery provided breathtaking views of the Catalonian Mountains. Their captivating beauty was nearly paralleled by the grounds and interior of the church.

Back in Barcelona by early afternoon we discovered many businesses close on Sunday. Fortunately, we located a local market and purchased Cava, cheese and chips. After retiring to our vogue hotel room Shannan and I enjoyed a picnic of sorts. While enjoying bread baked by the Benedictine monks and our other goodies we watched an entire episode of a grammar game show for adults in Catalan. It was a hoot!

Refreshed from the short respite we walked several blocks to see the magnificent Familia Sagrada begun some one hundred twenty-eight years ago under the artistic genius of Antoni Gaudi. This is a must see if you ever find yourself in Barcelona for any period of time. Though envisioned and begun so long ago, the unorthodox cathedral remains far from finished, the work continues. A best case scenario has as completion date set for sixteen years from now.

We did our best to make up for rushing through the great city of Barcelona. I felt good about it.

Tom