Michael: Green

The barren landscape
Of the volcano’s summit
Is pummeled by wind.

Monday, January 30, 2017

If I have to be unfortunate enough to replace a practically brand new pack that I really liked, now is the best time for it.

Why?

Because Kimme is in the states and by mailing it to her I won’t have to pay for shipping here, or customs or duty on it and that’s a substantial savings.

I was also fortunate that Running Warehouse had one Ultra Aspire Alpha 2 in my size left on sale. I haven’t used that pack but I do have the Revolt which I use for racing and am very happy with it.

One of my prerequisites for a replacement bag was that it carry a 2 liter bladder, otherwise I could just stick with my Osprey Rev 1.5. The additional 20+ ounces along with large front pockets that could carry an additional 20+ ounces of water will allow me to extend the time of my outings for much longer than I can with the Osprey.

And as a bonus, my size happens to be green. I know those things shouldn’t carry that much weight (pun intended) when making a substantial purchase, but aesthetics matter and I like green.

Michael: One of Those Good News/Bad News Days

The metal hinges
Squeak like Clint was standing there
Rubbing his whiskers.

Sunday, January 29, 2017

The best way for me to compile all that happened to is to keep it simple and go the chronological route.

Sunday, typically Kimme and I do one of two runs; the Quetzal or the Volcan-Baru trail. Kimme’s in the states but last week we did the Quetzal together so today I was going to have to conquer the volcano on my own. As kind of an tribute to Kimme though I stopped at the panaderia and got 4 of her favorite cookies to take with me as a replacement for my usual industrial strength Chips Ahoy knock-offs.

Beautiful day and I started up the road toward the trailhead at slightly after 10. That’s when the first odd occurrence took place. A ranger stopped me and asked if I was heading to the trail. Si. He took out his log book and had me fill in the info and pay the $3 fee. That’s the first time I’ve seen a ranger or had to pay to use this trail from this side of the mountain.

One good thing I noticed was that a “John” had signed in right before me. I figured it was probably the owner of American Flowers. A very nice man that has gone out of his way for Kimme and I. It was. I met him about the 3k mark. Seeing John always brightens anyone’s day who runs into him.

After the 4k mark I stashed my bag where I had before to do the final tough 3 kilometers sans pack. I took my small plastic wallet, the cookies and a 20 oz collapsible flask Kimme had given me for Christmas. I thought about taking my house keys but figured anyone coming down from the top, even if they saw my bag, wouldn’t mess with it.

I reached the peak in a P.R. of 2:45 which includes a 30 minute uphill road run to get to the trailhead. I was feeling pretty stoked until I got back to where my bag should’ve been but wasn’t.

There were 4 groups coming down from the top that I figure may have taken the bag thinking that some goof got tired and just left it behind and today was there lucky day. It’s not uncommon to see odds and ends scattered along the trail. Along with the fact that many novices come out on the weekend and aren’t at all familiar with the notion of caching anything, and… I blame myself for not hiding it better. Better yet, next time I’ll just haul it to the top with me.

Now the race was on. Could I catch up to all the groups that were now in front of me and may have bag?

No. I caught up to three of them, one of them even gave me some water and offered me treats, but the main suspects, a group of 4 young dudes had just driven off a few minutes before I got to the trailhead.

How do I know? At the trailhead was a very nice trail group leader from Panama City whom I met last year on a trail clean-up outing. A guide that I frequently see jogging in Volcan was also there and so was the Ranger that signed me in. All of them showed concern. The Panama City group leader said one of the persons in his group may know the guys who left and if so would contact them. Then the ranger would call me.

It was great that everyone was willing to try and help out. But I figured the pack was gone. My next concern was to get home as quick as I could and hope that my landlord and neighbor, Luzmila was there and could let me in.

As I started to jog down the road to the main road to catch the bus, I heard a flapping coming from my right shoe. I figured maybe a sharp rock or something was stuck in it. No. The sole under the heal was falling apart. These shoes, Hoka ATR 2s, I’ve run in less than ten times and was singing there praises earlier for making my feet so comfortable on a very fast trek up and down the volcano. But now they’re falling apart faster than my two year old original ATRs that I’ve used once a week for the two years we’ve been here. And the soles appear to be identical. Go figure.

At home, Luzmila was there and was very understanding of my having lost the house keys for the second time. I’ll make a copy tomorrow. My pack had a small notepad but that only contained my name and number so there’s very little worry of anyone trying to find our little cabin and breaking in. There are no addresses here and I seriously doubt they’re going to call me and ask. That would be great if they called and offered to return the pack though. I’m crossing my fingers but not holding my breath on that.

As a very nice little extra bonus, while I was talking to Luzmila, our neighbor’s dog whom we call Pup showed up. He hasn’t been coming around much lately and I felt bad that I didn’t have a treat for him. I’ll get some of those tomorrow after I make a copy of the key.

Lastly, I figured since I ran down the volcano with only 20 oz of water I could end the day with the scale also pointing in my favor. Yes. I was a dehydrated 144. I won’t stay there for long but it’s the lowest I’ve been since well before Christmas.

And there it is; the craziest volcano run I’ve had in two years of living here.

Michael: 1984, Burton and Hurt

Black, gold and moon blue
Wings softly fold in prayer
On the tree of life.

Saturday, January 28, 2017

1984 was a required read in one of my high school lit. classes. Along with a few other classics, it launched me into a deep appreciation of the sci-fi genre.  Sadly, in many ways, it’s popularity is rising once again.

Not only because one of Trump’s mouthpieces is talking about “alternative facts”, but because John Hurt, who brought the main character of Winston alive in the movie version of the book, just passed away.

Whether you’ve read the book or seen the movie, now seems a particularly poignant time to revisit them both. I still find it a little irritating that Richard Burton wasn’t at least nominated for best supporting actor. His portrayal of the compassionate/dispassionate Big Brother representative calmly working over what’s left of our decaying humanity represented by the ever dwindling Winston (Hurt), is the chilling cerebral opposite of Trump’s thugery.

Michael: A Bird in the Hand

Like a troll doll’s hair
A white cotton candy cloud
Spirals in the air.

Friday, January 27, 2017

This is the time of year to spot birders out on the trail. I never took note of any in Southern California, nor did I really take note of the various birds there. They all seemed kind of bland to me except for maybe the blue jays, which it turns out are really scrub jays. And that’s about how deep I can go into a birder conversation.

The birds, even around our little cottage, can be pretty spectacular. However,  a couple of times a year they present a problem that I don’t recall dealing with in the states. They occasionally fly inside the house.

Today, for example, a dove like bird flew in, saw me and started freaking out. And just like me, when I’m under stress and about to race and get in that flight or fight response, my bowels jettison their content to lighten the load. And there in lies the problem. Birds are great multi-taskers. They can take flight and take a dump all in one fell swoop, so to speak.

It’s not pretty and it’s again one of those small eye openers that I wouldn’t have thought much about before living here.

Michael: Neighborly

Listen to the lights.
They whisper to the rhythms
Of timeless angels.

Thursday, January 26, 2017

There are two types of restaurants in Volcan. No, not take out or sit down like in the U.S., but commercial or residential. Commercial establishments are purpose built as restaurants just like in the states. Residential restaurants are eateries where the proprietor, almost certain to be the owner/resident/cook/server, has sectioned off part of their house to serve as a restaurant.

Kimme and I generally choose to eat at the commercial restaurants because of both their location and, being vegetarians, we’re more likely to find items on the menu we can eat.

However, there is one small residential restaurant that is very convenient for us that we’ve walked past several times a week without ever inquiring about their menu. Finally we spoke to the owner and yesterday, after my run, I went there to test out their breakfast.

I should say her breakfast. The place is called Restaurante Itzel, because, yes, Itzel runs it out of her house.

 I got two eggs, two pieces of  crazy bread and a cup of coffee. But it’s not the taste, price or the down home atmosphere that made this visit special, it was the small town treatment.

When I went to pay Itzel she didn’t have change for a ten. She told me not to worry about it since I walk by all the time I can just pay next time I go past.

There’s no way that would happen in L.A. because the proprietor probably wouldn’t know me or would feel it was his responsibility to have change and ask me to wait while she gets it, or suggest where I could get change and comeback.

I’m not sure I can think of anyplace in L.A. that would’ve suggested, “Next time you pass by.”. I’m sure those type of relationships exist in Southern California, but I can’t think of the last time I was treated that way.

Michael: The Go Outside and Diet

Speckles in the black;
Lifeless white eyes refusing
Forever to close.

Wednesday, January 25, 2017

We all eat so we’re all on a diet. My diet now is pretty decent and I’m a pretty fit dude as I approach 60. In the 60s growing up my diet was pretty much chosen for me and was designed for the convenience of working parents. It wasn’t all that decent; we had Ding Dongs, Ho - Hos, Tiger Tails, Big Hunks, Big Johns, Sugar Daddy’s, Sugar Smacks, small variety packages of chips, whole milk, industrial paint cans of Hi - C, and packets of Kool - Aid. Yet, from what I remember, we were still a pretty thin group of kids.

How’s that?

Simple:

1. We went outside to play without any electronics, food or water.
2. We stayed outside and moved for long periods of time.
3. If we got thirsty we drank water from a faucet or hose.

That’s it. Pretty straight forward.

I’m not suggesting a throwback diet to the good old aluminum foil and cellophane era. Whole foods are definitely the way to go, but we’re definitely not getting out there and moving like we use to and it shows.

Michael: Santa Clause's Trail Shoes

The airplane tail wing
Of the Great Tailed Grackle
Is a foreboding sight.

Tuesday, January 24, 2017

If, after Christmas, Santa Clause were to say,  “All right, now that that’s out of the way. It’s time I lace up some trail shoes and start to work off this paunch.” What shoes would he where?

Wouldn’t you know it, I’m positive he’d wear the same ones he gave me for Christmas. Sneaky bastard. That’s my gig; giving people presents that if they don’t like them they can give them back to me and I’ll happily put them to use.

The shoes he gave me are the Saucony Xodus. And just looking at them in their red, green and black trim, you can’t help but picture the jolly man heading outdoors in these shoes.

Their motto is on the tongue - Run Anywhere. What’s suppose to make that possible is the huge Vibram lugs they’re equipped with; a grey harder compound that rings the perimeter of the outsole and an ever so slightly more giving black compound under the rest of the foot.

I have never run in shoes that are so threateningly lugged, or are as heavy. The well lugged shoes I ran in last year; the Asics Runagades and the Inov 8 235s come close in depth and lug strength of the Xodus, and though far lighter are also far less cushioned. They’re also much more pliable in the hand but I haven’t noticed much of a difference running.

The difference in weight reflects a difference in philosophy. The Asics and Inov 8’s rely on the soft ground to aid in cushioning, while the Saucony’s are leaving nothing to chance. And for a training shoe that’s why I’m liking the Saucony’s. Even when I run over trails that are plenty mushy, there’s still always long hard patches and some road in the way. And at the end of multi-hour runs I appreciate the extra cush. But they are quite a bit heavier and I definitely wouldn’t choose to race in them.

And the lugs are firm and meant to dig in, not grip hard, slick surfaces. Which anyone who expects that will quickly discover as they skate over large slick rocks. They’re trail shoes after all, not rock climbing slippers.

After two long runs in them I’m not giving these back to Santa. They’re comfortable and do what they were designed to do. The aesthetics are bright and cheerful and the price is right. My only concern is if the long sections of roads I run getting to and from the gunk will shave the cleats down quickly.
But it’s nice to be wearing a pair of shoes where the trails are more afraid of them than vice-versa.

Michael: Wind, Rain and Fire

Orange Bellied Trogon
Perched low, quiet and steady
For all to admire.

Sunday, January 22, 2017

Today, while running the Quetzal Trail, I was able to almost inversely experience some of the possible weather problems my old home of Southern California could be going through right now.

In Southern California large amounts of rain are expected, and after several large fires in some areas, there is the strong possibility of flood damage.

Here, on the Quetzal at least, a related weather phenomenon has left the trail in the worst shape it’s been in the two years we’ve been here, with many large trees strewn across the ground.

How’d this happen. This year the rainy season lasted even longer than usual and finished off with a flourish when a very late season hurricane swept by Costa Rica but near enough for us to get a decent amount of rain from the trailing edge. Follow the ground saturation with the very strong winds we get in January and that’s a recipe for big trees with shallow root systems to be blown over.

I’ll call home tomorrow for an update on how Southern California’s holding up. They’re really not that many homes on the slopes here and the few that are mostly on below terraced farms and well out of the way of any trees, but I know there are sporadic little towns in Southern California that nestle right under the trees or near the washes where flood water will travel. We know California needs the water and the snow. I hope it gets it in doses it can handle.

Michael: Sound Check

Black wings on the road;
The buzzard almost whacked me
When it left its prey.

Saturday, January 21, 2017

In the states or here, a few fortunate people can afford to buy peace and quiet. We couldn’t in the states and we can’t here, but we’ve been extremely fortunate, for the most part, to live in a very peaceful place.

We live at the edge of a farm with no neighbors on one side of us. Our landlord is on the other side and she and her family are very quiet. In front of us is the farm owner’s guest cabin. It’s rarely used and when it is, it’s also been very quiet. Behind us was an old man who died shortly after leaving his house and moving in with his family.

For a few months his house was rented out to a loud Panamanian woman and her sons. But since they moved out over 6 months ago, peace has returned.

But we know that’s not the way it is in all neighborhoods here. Just as in the states, there are a few people who blast their music on a pretty regular basis. And sometimes, when there’s big celebration, we’ll will be rocking and rolling all night from a party that could be at least a good quarter mile away.

But those are rare occasions. We’ve lucked out. But if and when we buy property here we’ll make sure to do our due diligence when it comes to checking the neighbor’s decibel levels. And to hell with this cinder block and single pain window stuff. Fortunately, I do think reasonable sound insulation aware construction can be done affordably here.

Michael: On and Off

The bright red headdress
Of the black cheeked woodpecker
Looks like a punk Mohawk.

Friday, January 20, 2017

The seasonal changes here can be pretty drastic going from long periods of rain to dry winds almost overnight. This change seems to have both foreseeable and either unforeseeable or coincidental consequences.

That wood doors will fit differently with the wide change in humidity is understandable. Also that a light fixture that didn’t work for four months is working again I suppose is explainable due to a change in the environment.

But why our I Phones no longer are transmitting reliably from home is a complete mystery. We’re hoping that the Claro office in Volcan will be able to help. A mobile phone is no longer a luxury. If we can’t get it up and running we’ll have to change providers when Kimme gets back from the states. Until then we can use the Line app. to communicate. It’s a work around, but those are always good to have on hand here.

Michael: 2 Years

The cold devils’ touch
Of rigormortis keeps us
Coiled in fetal fear.

If anyone had told me two years ago that our 2nd anniversary of living in Panama would coincide with the eve of Trump’s inauguration, I would’ve had one of the best laughs I can imagine having.

But now that we’re waking up to the everyday reality of it, I’m glad we’re here. It’s peaceful here and I expect it to remain that way. Not that Trump is going to have a hand in everyone’s day to day concerns in the states. But just to be away from the continuous drama almost seems worth it.

Naturally, every time I go to my email or look at the news some ’bizarre’, ’explosive’, ’shocking’, ’tirade’, ’crises’… is thrown at me. I imagine in the states it’s going to be one wild ride for however long Trump occupies the White House.

And for us, and many others who do reside in the states, is the reality that   very shortly health insurance is going to change. Again, that won’t effect our lives here as far as I can tell, but it’ll definitely have an effect on when we’ll return to the U.S.

For now we’re going to celebrate; our anniversary that is. Hopefully whatever Trump and his administration does won’t impact the U.S. in ways that will prolong the number of anniversaries we’ll have here. We miss our families, friends and all the rest that goes with not being in your native culture.

Michael: Living Without a Motor

A blanket of dreams
Covers the darkest hours
With surreal peace.

Wednesday, January 9, 2017

Tomorrow we’ll celebrate our 2 year anniversary of living in Panama. That also means we’ve gone two years without a car. For the hell of it I googled what the average yearly expense of owning a car is and AAA claims it’s a little over $9,000. That means foregoing having a car has hopefully saved us enough to buy a small property somewhere in Volcan on which we can also forego a car for a bit longer and use the continued savings of our delayed gratification toward the building of a home.

But really it’s not even delayed gratification because I don’t think I’d be very gratified driving here very often. Sure, it can be a hassle on occasion not having a car at our disposal, but with the drivers here, I’m not sure I’d ever be smiling all that often behind the wheel anyway.

When we do return to the states, particularly if we end up back in SoCal, it’s very likely we’ll get back behind the wheel. But the hiatus hasn’t felt like nearly the deprivation I thought it would.

Michael: Setbacks

The cow’s painful screech
Sounds like a guttural cry
Of lonely despair.

Tuesday, January 17, 2017

Just as it’s easier to make resolutions that involve physical measurement, it’s also easier to analyze last year’s diet and exercise shortcomings.

Last year I was all gung-ho about following the Convict Conditioning program but now, out of the 6 exercises, I’m clinging on to two - push ups and pull ups, which were exercises I was doing before I’d read the Convict Conditioning book.

Eventually, I’d like to incorporate two of the other exercises, the head stand push up and the bridge. The head stand push up for pure vanity but the bridge I use to be able to do and I feel would be a good indicator that I’m bringing some flexibility back into my back.

Otherwise I’m just not sure I want to commit to the whole program again. Not that I don’t think it’s valuable, but I’m enjoying doing what I’m doing and just don’t want to add or subtract to what I’m doing at the moment.

I also failed to workout everyday last year. I did workout everyday for over two year before breaking the streak, so although I’m a bit disappointed, I’m going to try and focus on the big picture and commit to doing what’s best to be healthy and a decent age group competitor. If for some reason that means taking a day off, I’ll do it, but I’m hoping that won’t be required.

Michael: Please No See Ums

The wind is gruesome;
Twisting the branches off trees
With a vicious crack.

Monday, January 16, 2017

There’s a realization when you live on a slope that you don’t get when you live predominantly on flat land at one elevation, and that’s that wildlife can vary very quickly from the location you’re at to just minutes away, either up or downhill. In particular, I’m talking about bugs and to be more specific, no see-ums.

Where we’re at in Volcan we don’t see them because they’re not here. So you forget about them. You walk around in shorts or knickers and maybe suffer the occasional mosquito bite, but not the little tiny stab wounds no see-ums can inflict. Until you’re invited over to a friends house who lives about 20 minutes away and about 1000 ft. lower in altitude. Of course they don’t tell you about them because they know to where long pants and don’t think about it. And neither do I until I get home and start itching like crazy because I wasn’t aware that I’d spent a few hours in no see-um country.

So a word to the wise resident or traveler, bugs have comfort zones that are even more restrictive than our own. Enter theirs uncovered at your own risk.

Michael: Trepidations

A ball of darkness
The bumble bee bounces from
Flower to flower.

Sunday, January 15, 2017

Every time I go out for a bike ride Kimme says she worries. Oddly enough,  that feeling has been creeping up on me as well.

Take yesterday for instance. My ride began going slightly uphill into a very strong headwind. Throughout my life that’s thrilled me because I knew on the way back I’d be going downhill with a big hand on my back pushing me to see how fast I could go. But yesterday when I looked down and noticed I was going 50 m.p.h. it didn’t thrill me like it use to and I sat up and feathered the brakes a little to take some of the speed off.

About 30 years ago I was in a similar situation going down Angeles Crest Highway and hit the fastest speed I’ve seen on my bike - 55 m.p.h. That was a blast.

I can’t pin point this concern with speed to any particular event or sudden realization. Periodically, since I was a kid, I’ve had crashes where I was going faster than I should’ve and have always been fortunate enough to walk away with nothing but some road rash. And it’s never stopped me from getting into an aero tuck and letting gravity push on the speedometer has hard as it wanted.

And it’s not that I don’t still enjoy speed, but something in my head’s now guiding me to start applying the brakes once I’m in the 40s. Why that is I can’t quite say. I’m sure there are a number of factors involved, I’m sure more hormonal than any conscious effort to become more wise and cautious.

Am I happy about it? In some respects yes. I’m not a bike racer and my bike handling skills, particularly fast descents, have never matched some of people I’ve ridden with. My bike right now is a training tool to help keep me in shape and a leisure vehicle I can hop on to see the beautiful countryside. Up hills are great conditioning and going fast on the descents just narrows my focus and doesn’t let me enjoy the world around me as much as I could if I just sat up and slow down a bit.

Yet I’m still puzzled by what changes have taken place in me to bring about this change and if it’s reflective of other changes that have occurred but I’m too myopic to notice.

Michael: An Exception to the Rule

The lone star flickers
Through the haze of a calm sky;
Tonight there will be peace.

Saturday, January 14, 2017

There’s an irony in believing that you’re an exception to the rule; unless of course, you’re the exception to the rule.

This year I’m going to see which side of the irony fence I fall on. Will I shortly be laughing at myself for thinking I’m the exception, or will I end up with an extra little twinkle in my eye and bounce in my step because I discovered that I’ve got a lit more in me than I thought.

I’ve tried in the past to work out every day for at least 1000 days. I’ve come close a few times, once within 200 days. For the past few months I’ve forgotten about it, but now I’m going to up the ante by not only working out everyday, but I’ve scheduled in 4 days a week where I’ll do two a days. I don’t expect that I’ll get that done every week, but if I can manage the majority of weeks this year, I’ll feel that’ll be quite an achievement, and it should help me at least get in one workout in everyday this year.

Whether two a days at my age is possible or wise, will answer whether I’m the exception to the rule or not. It’s quite possible that it could weaken me and I’d be better off with throwing in some extra rest as opposed to an additional workout. But there’s only one way to find out and that’s to give it a go through at least one three month training cycle and see how it turns out.

Michael: Vitality

Riding in the wind
Is like having a gremlin
As a guardian.

Friday, January 13, 2017

One of the qualities I admire about many of the retirees we’ve met here is that they have remarkable energy when it comes to causes they’re passionate about. But then again, one of the qualities that really annoys me about many of the retirees we’ve met here is they have an energy about causes and some of them want me to have that passion as well.

It’s not that I’m completely cynical; In fact I’m hoping to return to a better United States in a few years after the turmoil of the Trump years (months?, days?). I’m not a love it or leave it kind of a guy. More of a it’s kind of a little tarnished right now, could you shine it up a bit before I come back so at least it’s respectable patriotic dude.

But there are people here who believe that even us U.S. citizens in Panama should be trying to make a difference in our good old home country. They’re sending me e-mails with links to articles and petitions to sign.

Most of the reading I find worthwhile, but it doesn’t take long to discover that petitioning usually ends up as just another way to ask for a donation. And since they always require my e-mail I know that soon other organizations are going to be hitting me up for “information” and my pockets for “information” don’t run very deep right now.

Good is good and I suppose more of it should be better than enough. But I haven’t reached the stage yet where I want to devote all my time, energy and limited financial resources to making either the U.S. or Panama a better place to live. That sounds selfish, and it is. I respect those people who can be so energetically involved in trying to make this screwy world a better place. I’ll do my part, but right now that part isn’t going be all I’ve got to give.

Michael: Choose Your Poison

Choose Your Poison?: Thursday, January 12, 2017

Riding in the wind
Is like having a gremlin
As a guardian.

Thursday, January 12, 2017

Today’s feature at the Spiritual Cinema was The Lake Effect; a movie about how a family deals with the sudden loss of their husband/father. Coincidently, last night Kimme and I were watching Comedians in Cars getting Coffee that featured Norm McDonald, not a comedian I know very well, but he did have what I found to be a funny yet poignant observation about how people say they’re going to take big risks when they get older because, what the hell, what’ve they got to lose? But then when they get older they’re fragility makes them extraordinarily cautious.

This also makes me reflect back on one of my heroes - Ernie Chalekson. He was a fellow trail runner I knew for about 10 years before he died of a heart attack while out running. It wasn’t exactly a sudden death as he had a stroke  a few years before, and many people commented that at least he died doing what he loved.

So now as I’m approaching 60 it’s got me wondering what’s the best direction to take in my upcoming twilight years? I do take a certain amount of risks by cycling and hiking, but I don’t consider myself  the daredevil grandfather in Little Miss Sunshine type. I have no plans to let loose and starting doing heroin or mushrooms. Mushrooms; that always makes me laugh at how naïve I was in college. People would talk about mushrooms and I’d be thinking, “What’s the big deal? I never liked them on my pizza and these people are talking about them like they’re so great.”

I don’t see the joy in dying suddenly either. Sure it usually turns out well in the movies. Loved ones cry. You usually get to come back as a ghost to re-hash old times, give some sage advice, or goad your loved ones into delving deeper into some mystery about you they could never figure out. But I really don’t believe I’d want to bother anybody and they’d probably just shoosh me away or laugh me off anyway.

Dying doing what I love? Maybe. But I’d rather live and keep doing what I love.

Slowly extinguishing like an old candle flame flickering in and out to the weakest of breezes? That seems rather unappealing yet it seems to be the majority choice, so there must be something to it.

I suppose in these times of uncertainty it’s best just to keep plugging away until someone recently passed comes to visit and gives me some of those ghostly insights.

Michael: UCMB Revisited

Between the ridge lines
The rainbow shoulders its way
Into the valley.

Wednesday, January 11, 2017

It’s about that time of year where I’ve almost talked myself out of ordering any items I left off my Christmas list. Then today I discovered one of my favorite windbreakers had broken loose in the wind overnight from the clothes line and has vanished. I quickly had a relapse and started looking at sites where I might find a replacement, but I’m fighting the urge by reminding myself of my UCMB credo.

U - Use what you have. I still have two serviceable windbreakers and a very nice poncho.

C- Change what you can. I was also tempted to buy a new tank top for my upcoming races in the states but I have a very nice Salomon one that Kimme has modified by trimming off the seams that were chafing me.

M- Make what you need. Again, Kimme can make clothes and is going to make me another windbreaker.

B- Buy the best. Quality is worth it in the long run, but that doesn’t mean I buy the most expensive. Many times that would be overkill and also, with a bit of patience, the best of last year will end up going on sale as soon as a new version hit’s the market.

But I will say it’s very difficult not to order new things, particularly when I’ve lost an old favorite. But I’m trying to stay consistent and not spend my money carelessly.

Michael: A Two Dog Day

Knobs of white water
Rise out of the churning mud
Heading out to sea.

Tuesday, January 10, 2017

Either my Intro. To Logic course taught me wrong or I’ve screwed up the basics, because the simple syllogism I’m using isn’t working out.

That syllogism goes like this:

1. Dogs are man’s best friend.
2. You are a dog.
3. I am a man.
Therefore, you must be my best friend.

So why did two of you come after me yesterday on my bike ride like you were my sworn enemies?

Where did I screw up?

Maybe it’s suppose to be that a particular dog is a particular man’s best friend, but that’s definitely not the way I remember it.

Either way, it’s muddled and what’s worse is that dogs seem to be as confused about it as I am.

Take one of yesterday’s dogs for instance. Shortly after he came after me I had to turn around and head back for home. I was grimacing at the prospect of him coming at me again. But the second time round he just pranced through the grass ignoring me. What gives? I expect people to be irrational and inconsistent but I’d held the rest of the animal kingdom in higher regard. However, my interactions with the dogs around here have me musing that perhaps the higher the I.Q. of a species the more subject it is to irrational responses.

But I don’t want to push to hard on that assumption either; sounds too much like I’m falling back into the old logical way of thinking trap.

My new credo is: Take a bite out of logic before it takes a bite out of you.

Michael: The Dreaded Triple Whammy

Violet wildflowers
Scattered across the green field
Like serene children.

Monday, January 9, 2017

Just as I was complimenting Panama on getting it together, we’re hit with the dreaded triple whammy.

With the very strong winds sweeping in off the volcano this morning out went the electricity for most of the day. With that the internet goes. And to almost top it all off the water shut off for a few hours. We do have a back up supply of water that’s attached to a pump system. Mainly we use the pump to bump up the water pressure to trigger the gas heater so we can take a hot shower. But without electricity the pump doesn’t work.

Unfortunately, I also just finished a book on Scrbd yesterday and hadn’t yet downloaded a new one, which left me with a few old magazines, pen, and pencil and paper for which to amuse myself for the afternoon.

I managed well enough, but it was a strong reminder that I’m no candidate to volunteer to go off the grid anytime soon.

Michael: On Again

An afternoon nap
Isn’t a sign on old age
In a dog or cat.

Sunday, January 8, 2017

Speaking of serendipity and the magic of Panama…

(And just to punctuate that point, I am now continuing writing this after a momentary power outage, which doesn’t occur very frequently after the rainy season.)

About 6 months ago two events occurred with on one having a very large effect on our happiness here, and the other having a much more minor effect.

The event with the pronounced effect was the phone company coming and repairing our lines so our internet service would be more robust. It’s now to the point where we’re almost trusting that if the power is up, we’ll have internet service. It hasn’t failed since then and we haven’t even had to rely on goofy fixes like taking the phone off the hook to bring back the signal.

The minor event was an above the sink light going out. We’d learned to live without it because our landlord and next door neighbor, whose brother happens to be an electrician, said she’d have her brother look at it when he gets a chance. But shortly before we told her he got a job in David and hasn’t been back since.

We had accepted our fate of living with a slightly dimmer kitchen when, as soon as the rainy season ended, the light began to work again. The drier air must’ve undampened some connection, but since I’m neither an electrician nor magician, I’m not going to muse over it too much. Just chalk it up to another one of those moments that are bound to happen when living in the land of magical realism.

Michael: Random Occurrence

The warm summer breeze
And clear blue sky leaves me
Without excuses.

Saturday, January 8, 2017

Today another great example of the small amusement that is random occurrence popped into my life.

Before today I had never heard of Marion Anderson, but during my usual morning perusal of MSN’s feature; This Day in History, I was informed that on this date (I forget the year) she became the first African American woman to perform at the Metropolitan Opera House in New York.

Interesting enough, but nothing to hang on to for long.

That is until (cue whatever spooky music works for you - Twi-light Zone, Outer Limits…) in the afternoon while I was reading a chapter from a book on Essay writing about the essayist Edward Hougland. And there Ms. Marion Anderson popped up again. Apparently Mr. Hougland’s father cancelled his season tickets to the opera immediately after learning of Marion Anderson’s breakthrough performance.
Wow! Two unrelated sources talking about an historical figure I had never heard about before today. That’s going to stick. It’s like rolling double sixes twice in backgammon. It raises the eyebrows and brings a smile to the face.

But I’m of the persuasion that these small moments of serendipity aren’t trying to tell me any more than that’s the way dice and sometimes the universe works.

Michael: 45 More Years of Cycling?

Like a puff of smoke
Half a moon hangs lazily
In the light blue sky.

Friday, January 6, 2017

Just about everyday since Christmas I’ve been sneaking a peak at the latest in disc brake road bikes. Not that I need one. The Focus Cayo I bought here almost two years ago is a great bike. But, hey, I’m an American and what red blooded American doesn’t like to do a little window shopping?

I also justified this daydreaming by reminiscing about the ghosts of bicycles past. It is Christmas after all. And also with the melancholy thought that my next bike purchase may well be my last quality ride.

But then following on the heals of Ed Whitlock’s running prowess at a very advanced age, comes a blurb about a 105 year old French bicycle rider who just set the one hour age group speed record for riding on a track.

First off; seriously? There are age brackets that go up to 105? Like there’s  dudes in the 100-104 bracket doing sprint workouts right now just waiting for their birthdays so they can be the newbies of the 105 group and take this new record down?

At least it gives me the hope that I may have a few more miles in my tires than I thought. And that means possibly a few more decades of looking longingly at the magnificently functional works of art that are bicycles.

Michael: Between the New Years

The heat of the day
Runs away like a spoiled child
When the sun goes down.

Thursday, January 5, 2017

My problem with making resolutions is that if I don’t jump into them right away, I feel like a failure and then my enthusiasm for following them quickly peters out. I wish there was a way to progress incrementally into my resolutions without feeling like a cheat.

Well, my friends, there is and the solution was sitting right between January 1st and our wedding anniversary, February 9th. That happens to be the Chinese New Year.

The way Kimme likes to think about it, and what I’m co-opting from her, is the idea that the period between January 1st and the Chinese New Year is a contemplate/trial/grace period for resolutions.

I think this notion of testing new routines out, keeping the ones that are feasible and either altering or dropping the ones that aren’t is a winner. And that way come February 10, I can begin the New Year feeling more comfortable about continuing the resolutions that made it through the trial period and not be so disappointed about dropping the ones that didn’t make the cut.

Michael: The Other Side of the Coin

The stars make no sense;
Their scattered flickers of light
Say nothing to us.

Wednesday, January 4, 2017

It’s very easy to get around by bus here, but again, it’s those little things not mentioned by the likes of International Living that could make it difficult for some ex-pats to find getting around by bus manageable.

Today, for instance, we were waiting for a bus to take us back into town after our Wednesday trail run and often this particular bus can be quite crowded. Today was no exception. Kimme was fortunate as she was seated in one of the little fold out seats up front. On the small buses here, even at 5’10”, when I have to stand I’ve got to bend my head quite a bit. On a long ride that can get pretty uncomfortable.

Another uncomfortable position to be put in happened just a little further down the road. A passenger got off and that freed up a small padded area next to the bus driver for me to sit on. In that seat I was the only passenger facing rearward.

Directly across from me sat a young mother with her child in her lap. It’s a pretty cramped arrangement where our legs were locked together. If we both had been traveling to the end of the line and had to keep our seats, we would’ve been locked together for over an hour. That kind of forced intimacy could get very uncomfortable for a lot of people. To be honest, I’m not keen on it, but one good thing about sitting up front is your far more likely to be sitting next to a woman. And even if it were a man, it would sure beat standing in the back squished between a bunch of other men.

Not coming from a touchy feely background I still find this a bit unnerving, but I’m adapting, and I still prefer getting around by bus than buying a car and driving with some of these crazy drivers out here.

Michael: Nickels and Dimes

The lingering mist
Hovers below the mountains
Like a preacher’s hand.

Tuesday, January 3, 2016

Whatever resources one looks at to determine where to live or retire, sometimes it’s the small change items that can make the difference.

For example, I don’t care whether it’s in the states or here, if I lived next to someone who blasted their stereo enough to annoy me on a regular basis, it wouldn’t matter what my mortgage was, I’d want to get out of there.

But what sneaks under the radar are the small, almost priceless, kindnesses that can really turn your heart toward a place. Particularly at this time of year, when we’re feeling a little homesick since we missed the holidays with our families.

Today, for instance, when I was taking a bus downtown to meet Kimme before going to the gym, the assistant who is a very thin man, and for some reason, has taken a liking to us purposely undercharged me. And maybe that’s not enough to deserve a paragraph in International Living’s reasons to move to Volcan, but it sure meant a lot to me today.

Michael: Attention Earthlings

The hills hold their breath
Before smothering the plains
In a cold exhale.

Monday, January 2, 2017

Our new neighbors, as we were strolling past their place, invited us over for a New Year’s dinner. We did the neighborly thing and accepted mostly because were anti-social klutzes who rarely get invitations to anywhere and haven’t worked on a good excuse in advance. That’s one of our resolutions for the New Year.

We were hesitant to go because I was fearful that at least one of the other guests would be a right wing loon. They may have been, but no one brought up politics or religion.

However, as to be expected, in any gathering around here involving more than a handful of people, you can bet there’s going to be at least one conspiracy theorist, and that person is very likely to hone in on me I suppose because I can feign interest much better than I ever thought was possible.

This time round it was a spin on an old reliable of some U.N. dark room heavy hitters conspiring to depopulate the planet, though this variation relied on just your basic modern weaponry and wars as opposed to chem trails or alien invaders.

Thankfully, this informant was pretty optimistic about 2017 but was murky on what could be gleaned about our prospects after that.

And so far at least, Volcan seems to be a pretty good spot to be in when the shit hit’s the fan. Unless civilization’s undoing somehow involves cow shit. Then we’re in trouble because we’ve seen U.N. or alien stockpiles of that crud all over the place around here.

Kimme: Doing My Own Thing or Too Lazy to Keep Up.

Yesterday, January 2nd, first Monday of the New Year,  Michael decided to add back our early Monday morning run which we stopped doing when I joined the local quilting club on Mondays.  As he got ready to go I laid in bed thinking about joining him because the quilt club is on break right now.  Michael does a lot of workouts that I do not join him on but it unusual for me to miss a run or hike so it felt weird to see him put on his running shoes and get ready while I layed in bed.  As he walked out the door I thought about what I could do with the hour that would be more valuable to me.  20 minutes later I got myself out of bed and made coffee, then did some warm up exercises, a short meditation and some sun salutations.  Before I knew it,  Michael was back from his run. 

Hours later, I am still thinking about what I need more, that extra run first thing Monday morning or some time to do things at my own speed.  They both take an hour.

Michael: Numbers

The passion flower;
Its white and violet petals,
Is simply stunning.

Sunday, January 1, 2017

Every year at this time I always feel somewhat shallow because I come up with decent and reasonable health goals as opposed to spiritual goals. But I’m going to start easing up on myself because it’s just so much easier to create health objectives that I could tell anyone with a good chance they’d nod their head in agreement with, as opposed to telling them some spiritual stuff that would probably have them nodding with that quizzical look like…”Okaaay…That… sounds interesting… I’ve got to be running along now…”

I’ll give an example. Right now I weigh just under 148 lbs. and am just a sliver under 14% body fat. My goal is to weigh under 142 and be under 12% by July. I’m going to accomplish that by throwing in one extra easy run and ride per week. That’ll be three rides and 4 runs per week total. Tough, but I’m retired and the workouts are varied and interesting. I’ll keep an eye on the numbers and if I can’t keep up on my intense workouts or start to get sick or even more cranky than I am now, I’ll re-evaluate.

Sounds good and doable.

Now take a goal like meditating for at least 5 minutes every morning. So far, so good. But how do I state what outcome I’d like to achieve without sounding peculiar? I could just say I hope to increase my awareness or serenity or some other such new age goofiness. Or I could be even more strange and put a number to it and say I’m planning on increasing my serenity by 5% this year.

Now how would you react if I looked you straight in the eye and said that with real conviction?

Michael: Process, Performance and Outcome

The bland cloud cover
Dulls the wind and dims the light
On this summer day.

Saturday, December 31, 2016

On this day of making resolutions I thought I’d Google types of goals just to clarify my thinking before solidifying my goals for the near future.

I looked at the first five sites that popped up and my thoughts about what would be said about outcome and process goals was pretty much spot on but the inclusion on some sites of the category of performance goals was a bit of a revelation. I hadn’t really taken the performance goal category into consideration, but now that I’ve looked it over, it seems a logical intermediary step.

The skeleton of the process looks like this; The process are the workouts that will lead to measurable performance, which may or may not lead to a specific outcome. Outcome goals are generally described as not under your control, but I think that’s a bit of a simplification, and not entirely accurate.

For example, let’s say I want to run my next 10k under 40 minutes (Performance Goal). That could logically lead me to conclude that I should do at least 3 months of workouts that include tempo runs that will prepare me to physiologically maintain a pace that will achieve a 40 minute 10k (Process Goal). However, if the course is hilly, or I get injured, maybe I’ll fall short of the outcome I’d like to have achieved. Given my performance goal, I might also have sneaky aspirations of placing in the top three in my age group (another outcome goal), but that’s dependent on not only my time, but other people‘s times as well, and unless your of the Tanya Harding school of achievement, that’s not likely to be under your control.

Here’s where it gets a bit murky. Let’s say I want to beat my age group record in the Bull Dog 25k (an outcome/ performance goal). In order to do that I’ve got to run 4 minutes faster over that course than I’ve ever run before. That’ll set the parameters for my process goals. A very good guy named Ron has the record and has won our age group 8 out of the past 9 years.

This is the last year we’ll hopefully compete against each other in this age group at that race. I don’t see any harm in setting my sites on beating Ron and setting an age group record in the last year we’ll be in the 50-59 category. It may be a stretch, but it’s doable. And I don’t feel that considering all of the goals; process, performance, and outcome, in anyway diminishes the value of any one of them, despite the negative slant given to outcome goals as defined by the sites I looked at.

If Ron beats me (again), I can live with that. If I fall short of the record, all right. It hurts to fail but pain can be a very useful part of the goal setting process. No matter what happens this year, I’ll take that into account when I aim for the 50k record when I turn 60 in 2018.