Michael: That Damned Whitlock

Many a spider
Are compassionate enough
To poison their mates.

Friday, December 30, 2016

Along with many others, I’ve been thinking about what changes I should focus on in the new year.

Actually, for quite a while I’ve been pondering how I’m going to tweak my workouts so I can become an age group phenomenon at age 60, which is a year and a half away. This coming year, 2017, is kind of a stepping stone year on my way to 2018.

And now, just as I’m dreaming of age group glory along comes news from that infamous Canadian party pooper - Ed Whitlock. The damned bastard holds the age group record for being the only person over 70 to have run a marathon in under 3 hours. And just the other day, at 85, he ran a marathon under 4 hours. I’ve never run a road marathon, but I know that even now an under 3 hour marathon would be a struggle.

I realize age defying wonders like Ed are suppose to serve as inspirations for the rest of us in the AARP nation, but I feel it’s sometimes best to block their accomplishments out of my mind and just focus on where I’m at  where I can go from here.

Michael: Socks and SHOES!

The rage of the wind
Gives way to a few moments
Of calm at sunrise.

Thursday, December 29, 2016

Breaking up is hard to do. The hell with that; piece of cake compared to cutting back on running shoes.

Over the past couple of years I’ve been trying to wean myself off my running shoe addiction. I’ve gone from a consistent 6-8 pairs a year to just four last year, and this year I’m cutting back to two pair.

Two pair? That just has such an unnecessary sacrificial vibe to it; like I should be starring in some runner’s version of The Mission and I’m in the Robert DeNiro part and I have to lug all my running shoes to the top of the waterfall then empty that stuffed canvas bag that’s been strapped to my back and watch all my shoes crash into the turbulent waters below then slowly float out of sight. Dammit, I’d be crying like a baby just like DeNiro.

But two it is. Now for which two? I’ve decided to go with opposite ends of the trail running spectrum; one pair of light ninja warriors and one pair of all terrain tanks. The ninjas are the Asics Gel Fujilytes and the tanks are the Saucony Xodus.

I’m hoping the Asics will work for up to 50k trail races. For the two 50k’s I did in Costa Rica this year I used the Inov8 235s in the first and the Hoka ATR 2s in the second. The Inov8s are light and grippy but don’t have much cushioning. The Hokas are well cushioned but a bit heavy and just fair on slippery terrain.

Is the Asics the baby bear treads of trail shoes? After their break in run on the Quetzal trail (3 ½ hours) I’d say their prospects are promising. It gripped like the 235s but didn’t leave me tip toeing over a long rocky trail section and a few miles on the road at the end of the run. That’s exactly what I’m looking for.

The only slight difficulty to keep my eye on is I did feel a little looseness in the heal pulling out of mud a few times. That may be resolved by using a runner’s loop through the last shoe lace eyelet but the tongue on the Asics is pretty short and it also has no cushioning, so I’d rather not go that route if I don’t have to.

I’m hoping to tuck the Asics away and only use them for special adventures and trail races. The Xodus I really got for the rainy season when things can get pretty treacherous out there, though I’ll take them out on a break in run soon.

I still have quite an array of trail running and road shoes in my quiver and I suppose most of them will die a slow and natural death as opposed to being thrown down any nearby waterfall, and I’m not really one to cry like that pansy DeNiro character in The Mission, but I do empathize with the poor bastard.

Michael: Another Parade?

The silky black night
Covers us in a blanket
Of frosty silence.

Wednesday, December 28, 2016

A couple of Sundays ago when we were returning from a trail race in Costa Rica our bus was diverted from the main road because there was a horse parade. It seems starting in November there’s always a parade of either three types going on in Volcan; a marching band parade, a horse parade, or a funeral procession (maybe a death caused by being overly stimulated by so many parades).

One interesting observation we’ve made is that while these celebrations include a girls and women (though very few of either in the horse parades), they seem to exclude the two predominant minority groups; the indigenous and Chinese. I’ll state this with the proviso that I’m going to pay more attention to the marching parades, but the horse parades definitely lacked any ethnic diversity.

 We don’t know the culture well enough to discern why this is. I’m sure much of it stems from a long history of horses being part of the Hispanic culture. Yet, we do see many indigenous people using working horses. I’m not a horse person, so I wouldn’t know if there are distinguishable types of horses that are acceptable parade material, but I wouldn’t be surprised if that were the case. Just like if I showed up at a classic car show in my old Ford Maverick, I’d probably get the boot.

I’m guessing it’s pretty much like it is in the states. I’ll use surfing as an example. Throughout my many years of surfing at Old Man’s in San Clemente I can’t recall meeting any African American surfers. It is overwhelmingly a white culture past-time. And just like surfing, the predominance of whites surfing relative to African Americans was an economically enforced division. Whites had the time, money and inclination.

I’m guessing that’s pretty much how the parade scene works here. But I’m curious to find out more and will have to test out my Spanish to see if I can get some Indigenous people and people of Chinese descent to tell me their thoughts on why they don’t participate in these events.

Kimme: Two Grown Men and Their Moms

Michael hates to use the word “closure” but that is what it felt like to finally get Michael’s favorite pack back.  We have so many running packs that I wonder why Michael loaned his “favorite” pack to his new running friend.  But that is the way he is.  Just weeks after I first met Michael I was going on backpacking trip with some friends, before I asked, he got me a book on ultra-light fast packing and talked me into taking his lightweight tent designed by a specialty tent maker, an elephant foot sleeping bag and his favorite ultralight down sweater,  plus many other hard to replace things. He loves to share his toys.

Because he loaned out his largest capacity pack and the pack that he uses on our weekly long run, I had to watch him struggle at least once a week to cobble together different systems to be able to carry enough water for the day.  At some point during that day, when his new system did not live up to his old pack, I would be reminded that we still had not heard back from the guy that he loaned his pack to.

After a couple months, when he realized that he would not be getting the pack back anytime soon, Michael had to order a new bag from the states.  Since there isn’t a formal postal system in Panama all of our shipments go through Michael’s mom in the states.  I just had to laugh when I overheard Michael (58 years old) having to explain to his mom why he had to order yet another bag because he loaned it to a friend who he has not heard back from. It sounded like a child telling his mom that he needed a new lunch pail because he lost yet another one.

Of course, Michael decided to use this an an excuse to try out yet another new pack. Well for some reason Michael’s normally good judgment in choosing bags was a little off and he ordered a bag that just looks weird to me.  So now every week when he uses this new bag that aesthetically bothers me, I am again wondering what happened to his running friend.  As local races that they had talked about came and went we would wonder what happened to him.  Every time, we went by his farm we wondered what happened to him.   So when I finally saw him on a trail, 6 months later, I was super curious to find out what happened to him.    He looked well, he had just gotten back from a trip to the states, saw friends, got engaged, found himself a pack that he was happy with and even got the rower that he had mentioned being excited about. This was his first trail run since he got back.  He wanted us to see his new rower and he wanted to get Michael’s pack back to him because the pack was getting moldy from the humidity so he drove us to his place to pick up the pack.  In the car, on the way there, I just could not believe we were finally getting closure on something that had inadvertently left us hanging for so long.    When we were at his house, it turned out that his parents were in town and his mother came out to say hello.   I wonder when we left, if he too had to explain to his mom why her son had brought people over early in the morning to pick up a backpack:)  

Michael: Christmas Wishes

The indigenous
Gather at the local bar
Early Sunday morn.

Tuesday, December 27, 2016

What goes round comes round less and less frequently as I’m getting older.

Oddly amusing though has been my almost continuous desire for a new bicycle just about every Christmas. I’m sure those early Schwinn stingrays set my mom back a great deal, and I know I wasn’t nearly as appreciative as I should’ve been given the number of times I left them unsupervised and had them stolen. Sorry ma.

And wrecking the first ten speed she got me (can’t remember if that was for Christmas or a birthday), a beautiful lime green Schwinn World Traveler within a week of getting it, along with my advancing years was, I’m sure,  the beginning of my taking over all of the financial responsibilities of  cycling.

That has led to less frequent bicycle purchases over the years; particularly as other interests (women, motorcycles, shoes…) came into play. But I’ve always managed to get a new bike about every five years.

I’m almost positive the last motorcycle I had was my last motorcycle. I got out of the saddle after 30 years of driving in one piece and was at the point where the fears of driving were interfering with my ability to drive safely. I haven’t reached that point yet with bicycling. But my next purchase cycle (pun intended) I’ll be around 65. I’m hoping that I’ll still feel confident enough in my skills to get out there and push a racing bike around, but who knows. Either way, I’m going to be highly selective about that next purchase as it could be the last time Santa leaves a ribbon around a bicycle for me.

Michael: An Unexpected Gift

The rose colored ghosts
Stretch out their old gray fingers
And reach for the moon.

Saturday, December 24, 2016

About 6 months ago I loaned out my favorite trail pack to a local runner. We’d run a few times together and as trail runners do we talked about equipment. He was in the market for a new pack and I told him how much I loved my Osprey Rev 1.5. I was going to be racing soon and using a smaller capacity pack for that purpose so if he wanted to try out the Osprey he was welcome to give it a go.

We met up shortly after the race and I told him I was going to start going on long runs again. I asked him if he was done testing out my pack and he said  he’d like to keep it a while longer. I suppose at that point I should’ve been  more direct and just stated that I wanted to start using my pack again, but I didn’t. I’m not overly keen on all that introspective psychology stuff, so I’m not going to delve into why I was so reticent and indirect. But  this reluctance has bit me in the butt before and I do need to work on this character flaw.

I waited a few months and when I didn’t hear from him, I called a couple of time and sent him several e-mails asking how he was doing. I never heard back from him. I figured maybe something happened to his parents in the states and he had to go there to help them out. I ordered a larger pack and had my mom send it to me.

Then last week Kimme and I changed our usual running schedule and did our short trail run on a Thursday instead of Wednesday. As I was returning to the bus stop, just up ahead on the dirt road was the culprit who had borrowed my pack. His parents were fine, though he been in the states on a vacation from his farm duties in Panama.

He had also gotten himself engaged, bought a Concept 2 rowing machine, tested out several packs and settled on the Ultimate Direction Peter Browning pack.

He still had my pack but somehow it had slipped his mind in all his busyness to respond to my inquiries and let me know I’d get it back. If I were a better person I’d say that my first reaction upon seeing him was relief that he was okay, but that wouldn’t be accurate; more like I was curious as to what he’d been up to. My disappointment with both him and myself wouldn’t come until I had some time to mull it all over.    

Needless to say my pack hadn’t fared very well left to it’s own devices in the Panamanian humidity. I’ve since cleaned it up the best I can and am happy to have my old Osprey Rev. 1.5 back in the trail pack rotation. Now I have three great trail running packs; two for training and one for racing. The Osprey and the slightly larger capacity Gregory Tempo 5 for training runs and the Ultra Aspire Revolt for racing.

As far as the person who left my pack to rot goes… I’m sure if I happen to run into him again, I’ll try to be cordial. I do hope he’ll mature and won’t be so discourteous to others. In all my years of trail running I feel incredibly fortunate to have met so many wonderful people out there. I’d also like to be the kind of person that’ll make it a positive experience for anyone who happens to run into me out there.

Michael: Christmas and Play

The churning river
Seems to eternally move
While standing quite still.

Monday, December 26, 2016

One of the great things I remember about being a boy was coming home from church and getting out of those goofy church clothes, putting on some jeans and a t-shirt then meeting some friends to break in whoever’s new football, preferably on a muddy field.

Getting together to play; that should never be lost, particularly on Christmas, no matter how old you are.

At nearly 60 it’s been quite a while since I held a football and being in Panama, away from family and friends, I really don’t have any one to play with outside of Kimme and I know she’s not keen on football anyway. I’m not really anymore either. I fall enough on my own now without any  deliberate assist from friends.

But I still did manage to get outside and get muddy for a few hours yesterday jogging and hiking the Quetzal trail. Now I make an effort not to fall or take anyone else to the ground with me. But if it happens, it happens. I might get a little more upset than I did when I was a kid, but there’s still a bit of a sneaky childlike joy in playing in the mud that I hope I never lose. And at least now I don’t have to worry about mom getting annoyed because she’s going to have to patch my jeans.