Thanks, Mom!

I ran my first official 5K today.

I'm actually sort of shocked (and in pain, too, actually).

Five weeks ago, I was still running two minutes, then walking two. Then one morning Brett came running with me and challenged me to see how far I could go. The answer was a lot further than I thought. He's been my 'trainer' ever since and what a difference it has made.

When he found this 5k for us to do, I was sure even two or three weeks ago that there was no way I'd be able to run that far without stopping. I'd done longer runs, but not without pausing for a minute or two in the middle.

This morning I felt pretty good through the turnaround on the Centennial Trail, even though we went out a little fast. After that, it got A LOT harder. I didn't know it at the time, but we actually sped up even more after that and I really started to feel it. I wasn't sure if I could keep running.

Here's where the 'Thanks, Mom!' part kicks in.

There was a lady running in front of us that we passed on the outbound leg after running behind her for a while. After we passed, I heard her spit and make an annoyed/frustrated sound and realized that she had been using us as a motivator to keep her speed up. On the return leg, she passed us and settled in right in front of us as I was struggling on a hill. We remained on her heels the rest of the way in.

I really didn't have much left to draw on as the finish came into view. I'm not really a competitive person in physical things; and at this point I just wanted to be done. I signaled to Brett to move to the left so we could ease by this lady and try to finish as strong as possible.

That is when it happened.

As I moved left, she veered left to block me. I would have thought it was coincidence, but I could feel the whole race that she was very aware of us and was trying hard to keep in front. I was completely okay with that part. Runners commonly do that to improve their times or motivate themselves to keep going. What I wasn't okay with was being deliberately blocked.

Here's where the 'Thanks, Mom!' part kicks in.

I got mad. And if you know Mom, you know what happens when she gets mad.

Without saying anything to Brett, I shifted right, found some juice from who knows where and completely blew by her.

It was very satisfying.

Running is supposed to be fun (sort of) and most runners are really, really supportive of other runners. That doesn't mean you don't try to beat each other, but you certainly don't block someone. This isn't NASCAR.

I came in just ahead of Brett at 30:25, a full minute better than my best (and shorter) three mile training run. Brett came in behind me, grinning, and wondering where my last minute burst of energy came from.

The answer was simple: It came from my Mom!

Tom's Work

It was a lot of fun to walk around with my brother-in-law Tom while we were in Wyoming and take pictures with him. Seeing the differences in our results was educational and inspirational.

Max, after planting a geocache atop Bald Mountain in the Big Horns.

Taking some shots of Heart Mountain

My cute niece, Sage

Grandma's House

Natalie in Grandma's kitchen

In August, we had a great trip to Grandma's house in Lovell, WY. The kids love it every time we visit for a couple of reasons:

1. Grandma
It's all about Grandma. Grandma hugs. Grandma stories. Grandma songs. Grandma smiles. And as long as I remember, Grandma has spent her summer evenings in quiet contemplation on the front step of her porch.


2. Ice cream
Grandma works at a store that has an old fashioned soda fountain. It is a tradition to go to Grandma's work and have her make the kids a shake, malt or ice cream cone. Natalie was still tired from our very, very late arrival the night before and no amount of ice cream could fix what ailed her.


3. Grandma's water
Grandma has running hoses and the world's coolest sprinklers. I think the kids spend half their time in Lovell sopping wet.




4. Grandma's Garden
Grandma has lots of beautiful vegetables growing in her garden, but the for the kids, the garden's wonders are summed up by a four letter word: DIRT. They LOVE the dirt. Last visit they dug an elaborate series of foxholes based on plans drafted by Max. This time they decided to have a mud ball war, Boys vs. Girls style. Or, more properly BOY vs. Girls. Or, in other words, Max versus his sisters and his cousins, Sage and Sophie.

The Girls . . .

. . . vs. the Boy

Even though the girls had the numbers and looked good in action, the outcome was probably never in question. Dirt/mud ball fights are Boy territory, plain and simple.

And what parent doesn't know that that kind of fight will never end well.

Not even once.

But, as a parent you let them do it because they are kids. And kids should be able to throw dirt clods at each other.


Other fun things from Wyoming:

The old chicken coop I gathered eggs in as a child.

A wonderful and, up until now, very rare visit with my brother Kurt and his wife Linda.

Dueling photographers--Brother-in-law Tom

Happy, smiley kids

Heart Mountain Internment Camp

During World War II, thousands of Americans were removed from their homes and communities and relocated to a number of internment camps around the country. They hadn't done anything wrong. They were ordinary Americans, with only one distinction from any other American of the time. They were of Japanese heritage.

They weren't tortured or ill treated in the camps. But they were imprisoned. Their freedom was stripped from them because of vague suspicions, based on nothing but their ancestry, regarding their loyalty to their country.

Though the temptation to condemn those who made the decision to open the internment camps seems obvious, we have to pause in our judgments and view the matter in context. It was a frightening time. We'd been attacked on our own soil. Undoubtedly there were Japanese spies right on U.S. soil. You can't really fully understand that kind of history and the pressures that were on those who lived through it without having lived through it with them.

In the end, I think there were a lot of well-intentioned, scared people making bad (and all too easy) decisions. They were thinking with their fear. In our time and through the 20/20 lens of hindsight, this part of our history saddens and shames us.


One of those internment camps was just a few miles outside Cody, Wyoming, near where I grew up. When he was a teenager, my Dad was hired to help tear down some of the buildings on this site. I still remember the sadness of his face as he told about the beautiful murals that had been painted inside these rough buildings. I suppose he was thinking about the hands that painted them, hoping to create a thing of beauty in the middle of such hardship.

As I walked through the remaining buildings, I hope that the history of my lifetime is different. I hope that my generation won't have to look back with the same kind of regret I heard in my Dad's voice. Are there topics on which we are moved by fear rather than by our commitment to the principles that founded our country? Liberty for all, even if we are different in a few or even many aspects of our beliefs or backgrounds.