Scotty's Words

July 2008

2008-07-27T10:49:00.002-04:00

So, I imagine most of my faithful readers despite being a dedicated lot have decided I am going to never post here again so...I will post this here for me.

Since 4 July 2007 I haven't felt like writing anything, especially anything personal or funny. I am going to make an effort to get that back.

Where am I at these days.

Professionally: I just finished the Army Operations Course. I was basically a hollow husk for what four-five months? Any way it is over, it went well, but still the most irritating and aggravating course I have ever been on. I have to say thanks to Beaz, K4, Satan, and a few bottles of Shiraz for getting me through.

Right now: I am now the Training Officer. And the Acting Ops O... Not much else to say in this forum. Keeping the AOC theme going I gotta do my "estimate".

Physically: This really is the main reason again that I want to start posting here again, mostly because it makes a nice Log that I can follow. And faithful readers can keep pace too. But to bring this Blog up to date:

While on AOC DL (Distance Learning) I hit the treadmill hard. In January I noticed I was very heavy again, and start logging some km on the TM. It paid off. I started following the exploits of some people on RM and got wicked inspired, Kara inspired me too! More on that later.

Anyway, I also picked up a used Trek 100? 1000? Can't remember. It's yellow. I got it just before going to Kingston, and took it with. I got quite a few rides in. Then my back went. (Bike is in the shop I get it back on the 31st of July. Been inspired watching the Tour de France. Can't wait!)

While in Kingston I ran 2 events. I ran a 5km and an 8km, details:

27 April - Limestone City 5km: 23.36 (PB)
1 June - Beat Beethoven 8km: 40:25 (Could say PB, never ran an 8km before, but I was on pace for a huge 10km PB)

I was going to do a couple duathlons, but work, my back, and inability to get around conveniently got in the way.

So where am I at now you ask? Kara and I are planning our 1/2 marathon tour, 3 halfs in six weeks or so. Marathon By The Sea (SJ, NB), Valley Harvest (Wolfville NS), and Legs For Literacy (Moncton).

Kara is running more consistent and faster than ever. And we are both in the midst of our training plans...up to 14km LSDs. I am so happy to see her aggressive and competitive edge coming back...It pushes me, and inspires me.

Right now I am sustaining sub 5:00/kms and trying to sustain 4:30/ kms. We'll see.

I want a sub 22 minute 5km, a sub 50 minute 10km, and a sub 1:45 1/2. Again we'll see.

I feel good and fit...my back is still iffy. It is much better now that I am no longer sleeping on the cheap hammock beds in Kingston. I wonder if my days of being able to sleep anywhere are over !?

Personally: Things are good, Kara and I are training together, doing WW together, and just enjoying me not having to run all over the f'n country/ planet right now. It is nice. The yard and the gardens are coming along nicely...I wonder if we have some before and after pics....? I'll check.

The kids are awesome, new neighbours, lots of kids in the neighbourhood. Girl starts school this year and she is excited for now at least.

Well faithful reader, that sums it up. I make no promises but I want to come back here often,

Scotty...

Scotty's Injury Update

2008-03-31T14:34:00.000-04:00

Been a long time...I will be posting with much more frequency in the next while.

A few number of months ago, geez almost a year ago, I developed an issue with my right shoulder. Likely from overdoing the weightlifting while overseas. At any rate it has ranged from slightly annoying to down right paralysing. I have been to the MIR, and was as underwhelmed as Jaimer mentioned in her thread a while back. So I have been following my own prescription of abstaining from weightlifting or other activities like, say- throwing things.

This hasn’t really affected my running, and in fact I was so inspired by following the ATB progress on line I did 16.5 km run yesterday.

I know one of the issues with my shoulder comes from repeated snow shovelling this winter. The most we have endured in some time. Oddly enough despite the near record snowfall (and the most in numerous years) some moron was on the radio bragging about the fact that Moncton was well under budget for snow removal!

Which is obvious given the apparent lack of sidewalks in 3/4 of the city and the width of the streets reduced to half in some areas.

The last while has not helped either with repeated warm days and thaw followed by freezing days and snow. Hence my back yard is a wavy snow covered glacier.

I told you those things to tell you this:

In this area there is a bit of Spring Fever waiting to spring forth. This has been evident in Raven as she has been a little more rambunctious and shedding about 16lbs of hair a day. I think Christmas gifts this year will be hand woven dog hair bath mats.

So today Raven was particularly aggressive with a small stuffed bunny, so me being a thoughtful and dutiful owner took it outside and threw it. This was met with adulation, which I love. And the play went on for some time with Raven first throwing the bunny for herself, and then me chasing her around the yard. At one point I even commented to the Snickering Kara on the porch “Hm, it’s a tad icy!”

A little while later it was time to go in, but Raven was being stubborn about getting her “BUNNY” and decided to lolligag around the yard.

So being the cunning guy I am I made a snowball and tossed it across the yard. Raven promptly dropped the bunny and was gone in a flash!

AHA – I tear across the yard grab the bunny and try to throw it to Kara while I’m o the run. My shoulder decides. “Naw, let’s not.” And the bunny flies pathetically off towards the corner of the house. Simultaneously I hear Kara go “Ewww” because it landed in the mud, and the happy pounding of Raven feet chasing it.

So on the run I make an aggressive move to capture the bunny.

The next moment is seared in pain.
Oddly enough I find myself in the splits. One foot on top of a small bank, the other foot down beside the house. My crotch came to rest about three inches from the concrete corner of the house. I caught myself in the splits, so as to make sure my butt didn’t land in the snow.

That’s when I realize my hamstring and groin are pulled to the point of their tensile strength.

I then hobbled past the no-longer-snickering-but-all-out-hysterically-laughing Kara, and laid on the floor in the house.

Raven came along, sniffing as if to say “Where’d you go?”

I foresee no long term damage…

Not to my pride anyway…that was shattered long ago.

Joggling

2007-08-31T07:19:00.000-04:00

Well, I tried it for the first time.

Joggling that is. Running and juggling at the same time. Well, technically I have done it before while performing, running across the stage back and forth while juggling. However, the actual sport of joggling was new to me, juggling while running a sustained distance.

I was inspired to try this by Michal "the joggler" Kapral, three time world record holder and fellow member of RunningMania.com. I asked him for some tips, which he graciously provided - and well - I gave it a shot. On the treadmill. Why the treadmill?

a) it's where I do most of my running, though the temp outside is getting more bearable.
b) I figured I could work on my cadence and the throwing.
c) No one would see me...not that I am shy but I'd like to be somewhat competent when I "take it to the streets..."

Anyway I juggled - er, joggled for almost a full mile before my first drop. Not bad considering I fiddled with the speed (ranging from 5-7 mph), and the lighting in my basement is the absolute shits for juggling. I slowed the thing down, picked them up and joggled to the one mile point.

It was a great workout, I was concentrating more on my balls than on running....that sounds deceptively bad...I will have to keep working on it...especially during my LSDs...

I think I may have a new hobby. And I think I heard Kara roll her eyes at me somewhere....

Have fun y'all, stay active yourselves...

Scotty

First Speedwork

2007-08-29T09:19:00.000-04:00

Last night I did my first real effort at speedwork since starting really training again.

I am following Hal Higdon's Intermediate Half Marathon Plan, but in this months Runner's World it focused on the Half. In the article and accompanying plan there was a session of speedwork included weekly. I thought adding some speedwork might be a pretty good idea to mix it up and well, maybe improve my runing.

I do almost all my running exclusively on the treadmill. Keeps me out of the humidity and I can set up my laptop and either watch a show or listen to music. The treadmill we have has some decent programs on it that allow for elevation increase and decrease, so I rarely run at a level plane.

Anyway, the scheduled run was for 3.5 miles, just shy of six km. So what I did was the following.

First .5 m was a light warm up, started at 5m/ h and increased .2 mph every .1 miles... confused yet?

any way once at .5 miles I sprinted for .4 of a mile and rested for .1...

0 - 0.5 warmup
0.5 - 0.9 sprint 7.2mph
0.9 - 1.0 rest 4 mph
1.0 - 1.4 sprint 7.5mph

and on until 4 miles topping out at at 8.4 mph.

Probably did nothing but make me tired but felt like a great workout last night.

Ha ha I am not a trained professional, do not try this at home...

The New Truth

2007-08-28T14:20:00.000-04:00

Hey Casual Readers and Friends! So how about we go in a completely different direction? We take a departure from thoughts of Afghanistan, and we take a look at something new.

Still with me?

Ok. I joined Weight Watchers. Three weeks ago. Now I have already dealt with the questions from various sources, and of course it makes me feel like I have to justify myself. So I will write out my reasons, not as a justification because I have no need to vindicate myself.

For the past, sheesh, eight years (off and on) I have hovered between 190-200 pounds. I have carried this weight relatively well – and there are periods when I haven’t! My face has been rounder at times; my 36-inch waist pants have ranged from loose to tight. My 32-inch pants have ranged from tight to obscene! Those who have known me a long time will know I have never been a slave to fashion and I have worn my clothes on the potato sack side of loose, so being “a little chubby” is easy to hide.

Here are the beginning stats:

14 August – 188.6. This is lower than 190 because of Afghanistan.

And in no particular order are my reasons:

1) Kara and I have a scale, it is a cool scale that is able to measure weight, body fat, hydration, and a couple other things. I currently, at the start of Weight Watchers, had a body fat percentage over 30%!! This is after a six-month tour in Afghanistan, which saw me going to the gym four to five times a week!! Granted I still made poor food choices, but I should have sweated something off right? Back when I worked at Bridgetown Junior High School the gym teacher there measured my body fat, it was 35%. So considered my weight and appearance haven’t fluctuated that much I have been consistently over 30% for the past decade!!
Healthy range is any where from 18 –25%, a good fitness level 14-17%. Given these numbers it is reason enough for me to do something. Given a bunch of calculations, which I will put in later, at 20% body fat I should get down to about 155-160 lbs.

2) My dad has a fair number of health problems, most of them exacerbated by his love-hate relationship with food. I understand that I have a genetic predisposition to these health issues. But I’ll be damned if I will help them along.

3) One of my big reasons is Kara. She is obviously one of my more favourite people. And she has struggled the last while. She has been through a lot with me away, being a single parent of two small kids. The situation has made it hard for her to build and develop a “no-fail” environment. Especially when in some ways it would mean a complete upheaval of the status quo! But in the past few years she has had tremendous successes and of course some backsliding. I know for a fact that before when she was in WW and I wasn’t I drove her absolutely crazy when I would ask her “How many points for..?” Usually the point value would shock me and then I’d eat it anyway. Leaving her glaring at me for being an asshole. I never really got it.
Or even worse instead of being her support mechanism I would actively (though not truly consciously) sabotage her with pizza and alcohol and, nachos and, and…

So now the two of us have made a commitment to this. We are both happy with this decision. There is still a bit of playful tension as I do have more points than her, which causes some friction considering we eat together most meals. But our partnership in this has led to our current 30 day “challenge” - No Alcohol For 30 Days!! (I say current 30 day challenge because I foresee more) This No Alcohol Policy was inspired by two horrendous binges we shared since my return, which sabotaged her weight again. This is a bit of a sacrifice, since I went six dry months. But it had to be done if we were going to really commit to this.
This Policy will require will power and planning, for example my boss is having a meet and greet and his house this weekend. It will not be a drunk fest but there will be casual drinking. And we will abstain. We can have fun without booze.

Anyway if Kara and I can succeed together it makes the lifestyle changes we make more likely to stick because we both bought into it.

4) Running – I am not sure if this is a reason because I am competitive, or because I am tired of sweating out bacon fat when I run!
Running is both an incentive and a method for my weight loss. One of the ‘lightest’ periods in my life that saw me in the 170s is when I trained for the Fredericton Half marathon and the Cabot Trail Relay Race early in 2006. Even while eating whatever the Hell I wanted I dropped pounds.
Now I have set a goal of running the Moncton Legs For Literacy Half in November. So I can use the training for this as a method to shed pounds and stay active. But also if I control my eating and slim down then my running will become easier and faster. (fingers crossed LOL).
Plus I consider myself to be a professional soldier, and my fitness level has to be at a ‘superior’ level if I am doing my job correctly.

5) The UFC (Ultimate Fighting Championship) – I can see the confused looks now. NO! I am not training to be a cage fighter, at all. However, I am a big fan of watching the UFC. And in doing so on my return home I had an AHA!!! moment. The vast majority of fighters who are my height fight in the 155 lb category. Granted the majority of these fighter are elite athletes, both very muscular and less than 10% body fat. But if you consider the fighters who are my weight they were either short and the size of the Incredible Hulk or they were at least half a foot taller than me!!
I have no illusions of being an elite athlete - but I have a vision of being athletic.

So there. Those are my reasons at the time of writing.

I have now weighed in three times, which means I have been really following the plan for two weeks. What are some of the things I have learned?

1) I ate too much shit
2) I ate too much of it.
3) Simple things like grabbing lunch at the mall can be an absolute nightmare if you are trying to stick to your points and you don’t want to ruin your count with a point laden (yummy tasty) hamburger/ pizza/ plate of deep fried Chinese food/ ice cream.

(lengthy pause here as I count to ten recounting trip to mall yesterday...)

4) Portion control.
5) Losing weight and being healthy can be relatively easy. Once you acknowledge the problem, and engage fully in the solution. Sounds tres Dr. Phil, but you can’t change what you don’t acknowledge. You have to be conscious, awake, and aware of what is going on in your life.

I will continue to update as time goes on. I am sure my thoughts on “easy” will go out the window once I go back to work, or something comes up so you can laugh at me, cheer me on, or say I told you so then…

And just for shits and giggles.

14 Aug 188.6
21 Aug 187.6
28 Aug 183.8

Total two week loss 4.8 lbs. With no huge sacrifices, meaning first week I drank two nights all night, and the second week after the No Alcohol policy I had a couple huge cinnamon buns and nachos, and pizza…

Comments welcome.

Until next time....

A Must Read on Our Success in Afghanistan

2007-08-23T17:48:00.000-04:00

This is a rant - a well written and erudite rant posted on Army.ca. It has been reprinted here with permission of the author.

Please read it and pass the link to your friends, whether you support it or not. We will get the other side of the story heard...

"I've had enough. Consider this my rant against ignorance; my protest against agendas, half-truths, and lies. For almost two years I have been closely following the news from and about Afghanistan and it has been demoralizing to say the least. I spent a year in Kabul with the Strategic Advisory Team and watched the media only report the deaths our Forces suffered rather than the successes we (not just the SAT) achieved. I have watched "experts", editorialists, politicians, protesters, activists and pundits mangle facts, misread situations and push agendas. Most of what I have read and seen has been flawed to one degree or another. As a result many Canadians I have spoken to are wholly unaware of what we are doing there and why we are doing it. The debate has been so muddied by poor reporting and incomplete information that most people are stunned when they hear of our successes.

At the same time I have heard only reactive, ineffective whimpers from our establishment. Our government and DND in particular has done a poor job of getting the message out. Granted things are improving but you only have to look at the News Room on the DND website to see that the majority of news releases concerning Afghanistan concern the deaths and injuries we have suffered in Kandahar. In other words we are playing into the media's "if it bleeds, it leads" approach to coverage.

Here is my attempt to right some wrongs and dispel some of the misinformation out there:

1) "We cannot win in Afghanistan because insurgencies are impossible to win" I swear that if I hear one more "expert" or politician with no military experience say this I will reach through the TV and choke someone. I have spent the last three years of my life reading everything I can find on insurgencies as part of my work towards a Masters and I can tell you this - insurgencies can and have been defeated many times in the past. There are ways to defeat an insurgency and I can tell you from my study of this topic and my year of experience working at the strategic level in Afghanistan that we are doing far more right than we are wrong. Furthermore, the insurgency we face is hardly one of the most daunting ever faced. The Taliban are unlikely to ever get past Mao's first stage of insurgency and, more importantly, they lack support from much of the population. To reference Mao again, the Taliban are "fish" swimming in a very small "sea" as their support is mainly limited to one Pashtun tribe in an ethnically diverse country. NATO can defeat the Taliban and with every passing year, Kabul extends its influence and the lives of Afghans improve. This insurgency will be defeated by stability, prosperity and justice and we can see that all are improving gradually.

2) "No one has ever won in Afghanistan so we will never win" Not only does this statement display a gross ignorance of Afghan history, it also represents a laughable logical fallacy. It's akin to saying: "the Ottawa Senators didn't win the Cup last year, therefore no one will ever be
able to win the Cup!" Comparing the conscript Soviet Army to ISAF defies comprehension - every conceivable aspect of the Soviet experience differs fundamentally from our experience there. Goals, tactics, training, equipment, popular support, international legitimacy are all vastly different, to name but a few.

3) Attention editors/politicians/protesters: Afghanistan is not Iraq!
Rather than displaying your incredible ignorance of geography, history and international relations, how about you nail down this one fundamental difference? You can disagree with what's happening in Iraq while agreeing with our mission in Afghanistan and vice versa. But, you cannot use your opposition to Iraq as a basis for your opposition to Afghanistan - that's a non sequitur.
Here's a little game you can play: read articles by columnists, in on-line forums or even in the "comments" section following on-line G&M articles and you'll see something very telling. Most people opposed to our mission in Afghanistan make reference to Iraq or George W. Bush at least once when explaining why they are opposed to Afghanistan. I don't get it. Are we really
that mad with conspiracy theories that we think that our mission in Afghanistan is in some significant way related to US policy towards Iraq? A more likely explanation is that the crushing ignorance that drowns the debate on Afghanistan is the cause. People are too lazy and too poorly informed to understand the differences between Iraq and Afghanistan and those with agendas encourage this ignorance to reinforce their own arguments.

4) "All that's happening in Afghanistan is combat" Ruxted has countered this one in detail but no one seems to want to listen. What really riles me is that DND (or Foreign Affairs, or CIDA) is not just inundating the media with facts and stories about how this is simply not true. 83% of Afghans have access to medical care now where fewer than 9% did before 2001. GDP per capita has doubled and Afghanistan has the fastest growing economy in Asia. Etc., etc. These facts are all out there and available to editors and politicians and yet no one reports these facts. Why? Are they so intent on vilifying Harper that they can't report the facts? I just don't get
it.

So what?

Please, all of you who know these facts and more - talk to people.
Tell friends, family, strangers. Write letters to the editor if you can or write your MP to tell them you think these points need to be discussed. Ruxted and similar organizations are doing a great job but we all need to back them up and do our part. Consider it a grassroots effort to counter the one-sided stories in the media."

It's been awhile.

2007-08-20T17:08:00.000-04:00

Hello all.

My apologies as this post will lack wit and well...wit.

I will also apologize for the long delay in the reading material posted here. I am home now safe and sound and thank you to all who followed and supported the journey.

I will be posting about my final days in KAF soon as I put it all together.

But to recap.

New house - moving soon!
Back to work - happening soon!
Back at running - sweating soon!

See you all soon.

The Market Experience: Scotty's Guide to Surviving the Sale

2007-06-26T16:32:00.000-04:00

There are a few universal truths about a deployment to Afghanistan, if the wind blows the wrong way this place stinks, Tim Horton’s is an international phenomenon, the Brits drive with reckless abandon making even a 16km/h speed limit dangerous, and Saturday is Baazaar Day, a fixture on which you can set your genuine Rollexe watch on.

There is little pomp and ceremony to the market, though it does hold a certain splendour and attraction, reminiscent of a renaissance fair minus the jugglers, and musicians. But it does have swords, and exotic fabrics, and trinkets, and smiling men in Man-jammies. It is very much like a flea market, it is outdoors, and divided into stalls - and full of stuff you really don’t need. Well, except for Scorpions Frozen In Resin Paperweights. Nothing says, “I am a Man Who Has Everything” like an amber coated resin arachnid. I own two, but I digress.

Shopping at the market can be broken down into categories: Movies and Software, Marble and Stone, Rugs and Pashmina, Jewellery and Watches, Trinkets and Antiques, and Weapons and Guns. Hm, welcome to Trivial Pursuit: the Afghan Edition. Instead of answering skill-testing questions you barter your way to pie.

Bartering, there is a learned skill. It is essentially the real fun behind the market experience, meaning to take away nothing from collecting keepsakes and touristy bits for family and friends. And the activity and novelty of just spending money, even boring American money, helps you feel normal again.

The script is the same, though the quality of broken English will vary:
Honest and Upfront Vendor - “Come sir, look watches (insert any merchandise here)”

Eager and Intrepid Shopper – “Oh no, just looking” Coy, slick smooth
Honest and Upfront Vendor – “No for you my fren’ I make good deal. Half price.”
Eager and Intrepid Shopper – “Oh I dunno” Aloof.

And then you stare at each other a bit, and feign indifference, even though you have to buy this marble tea set because your spouse in Canada has placed their order.

Eager and Intrepid Shopper – “How much?”

Now either the vendor say something three times what you’d pay or, retorts with “make an offer.” Which of course you do and it is taken as a playful insult. Then the great debate begins, and eventually ends with a handshake.

Definition of a bargain: a transaction in which both parties believe they have fleeced the other and got the better of a deal.

There are some popular purchases. Marble, particularly marble chess sets.
The (ahem) “New Release” movies are exceptionally popular. Sometimes there is little else to do than fire up the laptop and watch a movie still in theatres. Except buyer beware, you can’t tell the guy in front of you to put his head down, or tell the girl on the left to eat a little quieter.

For those who call KAF home we all look forward to Market Day, it is the highlight of the week. Starting late Friday with the “What are you looking for this week?” conversations, and punctuated with the Saturday evening, “Oh man you got a steal/ you got rooked!” conversations. Followed by a couple days of “strategy building”. It passes the time, and provides memories and stories.

Oh, and if it rains on a Friday the disappointment starts to spread. A nervous chatter begins wondering if the market will happen the following morning. Even insurgents get angry if there is a chance the Market will be cancelled, and show it by lobbing a couple of “warning shots” at us. Yep, the market is a big deal. And for you my friend, half price.

What HLTA tought me

2007-06-26T16:31:00.000-04:00

Well I am back, and to be honest faithful reader it was not until I was on the long plane ride back that I started to consolidate my thoughts into what I could say to sum up my time home. I could mention how odd I felt, when I went to the drivers side of my minivan to get in as a passenger, to when we went to the mall and saw so many people, and men and women without weapons, and I did not have to barter a price for my produce, though I wished I could.

And yes, I was eager to get to come back to Afghanistan, to get back to this dangerous little sandbox. Don’t get me wrong I enjoyed my time home, immensely, and I put every effort into “being there” with my wife and my kids, my family and friends. But I knew when I went home that my time was not over, and bits of my job would travel with me lodged in my brain forcing me to think, create, solve, debate, and somehow deal with them. In no effort to delude myself I believe/ know that my wife knew this as well.

My time home made one thing become very clear. In all movies, except those crafted to not have closure, there is a climax. There is an ending, satisfactory or not. Sports provide the same thing- all sports. Our culture is dictated by pop culture events that have definite, and often times, immediate results. In NHL playoffs there are winners and losers, game-by-game, series by series. The quality of play and anticipation make the game-to-game series to series excitement something palpable. TV shows, even long running series often have single episodes that introduce ‘conflict’, show our antagonists and protagonists, their struggle and always - resolution.

My stay in Afghanistan, and that for many soldiers here will not have closure, a climax, or a satisfactory ending in the conventional sense of the word. This is no video game, sporting events, or episode of Friends. There will be no battle that signifies the defeat of the Taliban and insurgents, and results Afghan civilians dancing in the streets, and NATO soldiers returning home to ticker tape parades, and roll credits.

There will not be a final school or hospital opened in the next three months that will have the general Canadian public rejoicing that we have educated/ healed the masses of Afghanistan.

What I am saying is that we will return home to Canada making way for the next wave of soldiers. What will dictate that our job is done, and that we ‘won’? For many soldiers out in the sand sweating, fighting, and surviving the mere act of returning home, whole and alive may be enough of a climax. But for those of us in the relative safety of KAF this is less of a victory, still felt, but not on the same scale. We will return home, heroes all, but without that pop culture sense of victory. Is that why so many of us volunteer so easily to come back? To finish the job? Soldiers do not define success by adhering to a fabricated and often times irrational “Exit Strategy” but by mission completion, and mission success.

Perhaps we can take solace in the fact that for these six months we were at the top of our professional game, for all the strife and struggle we were at the top of the pyramid. For some this will be the culmination of more than a year of dedication to training and deployment here. For others this will be step two or step three in a revolving door of continuous assignments to Afghanistan. To some soldiers this will mark a fitting twilight on long careers, for others a bright and lucky start to a career. So maybe we aren’t bringing a gold medal home when we touch down on that tarmac, but the sense of accomplishment will be no less, and families will recognize the relieved but wistful looks in our eyes when we think about what’s next.

Sombre on Easter

2007-05-09T17:32:00.000-04:00

It is amazing how ordinary days can turn extraordinary; for better, or for worse. In one simple radio transmission a slow Sunday turns into the worst nightmare of everyone; those in the field, those in the Command Post, and those at home.
It took a few minutes for the reality to set in, that this was no ordinary call for a Medevac helicopter. This was brutally serious. And as the situation would evolve and unfold there is a certain powerlessness that comes with being in a room listening to the radio.
In the aftermath, you can look back and realize that there are defining moments in every situation, and those moments generally revolve around leadership. This moment for me on that day is when 3 Priority E (VSA’s - Vital Signs Absent) turned to 6. There was a noticeable change in the atmosphere in the Command Post. In individual persons, this mood or reaction could be likened to the onset of panic, of doubt, of fear. In a collective perhaps it can be likened to confusion, or distraction, or genuine helplessness. No doubt sensing this 2nd Royal Canadian Regiment Battle Group’s Deputy Commanding Officer, Major Russell King, spoke softly yet strongly, and said simply, “You guys are doing a good job, see it through.” I believe calm and focus returned to everyone in that very moment.

As I made my way back to my room, just after midnight on Easter Sunday there were no glowing faces of the usual late night masses that normally burn up the wireless Internet, chatting and emailing home. Tonight would have been an exceptionally popular night under normal circumstances, but tonight there is no chatting, there is no Internet there is no phones. There are few people out an about. It is very quiet.
There were some of the normal clots and mobs of people hanging out, but they were all subdued, quiet, reflective- sombre.

Tonight on the tarmac, it was hot. There was no breeze even as the sun dropped behind the mountains. There was no respite. We all gathered to send our six comrades home. Emotion is raw, the sorrow is palpable. As we stand again shoulder-to-shoulder-to- shoulder we watch flag draped coffin, after flag draped coffin pass us by. Before, I once spoke of the feeling surging across you in a wave; this time it was wave after wave crashing against us. So relentless and strong is this feeling that I am almost completely numb, save for acknowledging the beads of sweat that course down my back, and the tremble in my arm as I salute my fallen comrades.
I find it funny, in that odd sense of funny, that my thoughts would turn more to those in Canada, than to my colleagues. Maybe this is a natural reaction. As saddened as I am to know that six of my comrades have fallen, I am equally horrified by the thought that someone’s mother, father, spouse, or child, ignorantly prepping the Easter meal, or waking to an Easter egg hunt, or preparing for a pilgrimage to church, have this become the worst Easter ever.

My thoughts turn to my own family then; my boy who is five, and my little girl who will turn 4 in just over a week. How do I teach them about grief, and mourning? How do I reassure them about daddy? As the bagpipe stops and fades away I think to myself I will have to teach them about duty, and compassion, and camaraderie, and loyalty.

In Canada my hope is that reaction and the inevitable tide of media frenzy does not just focus on the body count or raise the trite political questions of commitment. For it was not the decision of any political party that caused the death of these six brave soldiers; it was no faulty planning or consideration of our leadership that killed these Canadian sons. It was a wilful and deliberate act by our enemy; it was a cunning and catastrophic attack.
In its wake should not follow questions of our strategies or second-guessing our “need to be here”; what needs to follow is typical Canadian courage. The same courage and resolve we unconsciously expect from our other Canadian athletes, businessmen, farmers, labourers, citizens, and heroes. For do not forget the soldiers that make up this military are solidly built characters hand hewn from everyday Canadian values: grace, integrity, physical and moral courage, and loyalty.
My hope is that my fellow Canadians do not insult the shining memory of these six young men with political posturing, doubt, and insecurity. I am not talking about blind revenge, or mindless pursuit. I speak of grim yet determined resolve, which does make up the back bone on which our country is erected. The same character and determination we are trying to impart on the innocent civilians of this country.

In some ways I feel like an impostor, discussing and sharing grief that must be eclipsed by the feelings of the close friends and family of H Company, and I mean them no disrespect in doing so. I can do nothing more than relate emotion and events as I see them and experience them. Hopefully through my personal story, the only one I am qualified to tell, I can tell their story.
For all of us when all is said and done, we must remember that; “all gave some, some gave all.” So, in those dark moments to come my heart will stay with the six families equally, and for my fellow soldiers. And on Easter, it is unfortunate, but fitting, to acknowledge the ultimate sacrifice these six soldiers made for the betterment of all; Afghan and Canadian.
Stand Easy Gentlemen, Stand Easy.

Reassess Strategy?

2007-04-08T11:49:00.000-04:00

I recently received a care package from my parents, inside was the best morale booster of all, my mom’s homemade fudge and Rockets…I love them candies! But inside the box was a Daily News Paper from 7 March. It was noticeable immediately because Cpl Kevin Megeney stood smiling out at me from the cover, with “We’re so very, very proud” as the major headline.

As I read through the paper I flipped through the Editorial section, then came across a letter by Mr. John van Gurp from Halifax. His letter was entitled “Reassess Strategy”. Mr van Gurp comes to his point immediately – “Through the government’s misguided military aggression, support for insurgency is the only option for many Afghans.” The article goes on to end with “Canada needs to adopt policies that will win trust and confidence in Afghanistan and must end U.S.-style blind aggression before the challenges become insurmountable.” Reading such comments dishearten me, as it is a shame to see the nobility of our action in Afghanistan be trivialized down to an assumed political puppetry assimilation, and poor leadership.
Before the Canadian’s and coalition military involvement there were two options for Afghans, brutal conformity or death. There is now a greater force than religious extremist tyranny in Afghanistan and it is in the form of well-guided and restrained military action. This has created a third option, hope and the development of trust.

I guarantee Mr. van Gurp and his compatriots that there are no better soldiers in this theatre at winning hearts and minds than Canadians. Our entire focus is centred on policies to support the initiatives and actions of a fledgling democratic government. There is no such concept as blind aggression with regards to our military action and to state so is an insult to each and every single soldier in this theatre. Extensive planning, and legal, political, economic, and tactical consideration guide every military action, regardless of size or objective.

The letter states after describing conditions in local hospitals, “This callous disregard for ordinary citizens, coupled with crushing poverty and growing resentment of coalition troops, is a perfect recruiting environment for Taliban forces.” Recently, a Vehicle Borne Improvised Explosive Device (VBIED) in Kandahar City struck a Canadian convoy; the vehicles they were in protected the Canadian soldiers. The children in the street were not protected, and the measures taken trying to save these children should make commentators like Mr van Gurp blush with shame. And if you still doubt, be aware that the death of these children was met with a universal and deep sadness, regret, and a hardened resolve to rid this country of the real enemy who would perform such despicable acts of selfishness.

Mr. Van Gurp wrote, “Canada needs to urgently reassess our strategy. We need ongoing humanitarian aid, economic development and the establishment of functioning health-care and education systems to win the hearts and minds of ordinary citizens.” These two sentences are in direct opposition to one another, because that is our strategy. However, this development, and campaign of hearts and minds is not an immediately quantifiable goal. It does take time to build something from nothing. As we work diligently to provide a sense of normalcy to the country, we cannot compare the end result immediately to Western standards that just is not fair to all parties involved, and will set an unrealistic goal in the short-term.

The one thing seemingly forgotten is that there is a cunning, and insidious enemy in this country (who do come from other countries as Afghanistan is the front line for Islamic extremists) who has no regard for human life whatsoever; an aggressive enemy that will use children as a leverage and shield. They use brutal methods of intimidation and coercion that requires incredible bravery from citizens just to live with, let alone rebel against.
As our brave young soldiers go out into the countryside to declare our presence, be face-to-face with community and religious leaders, building and forging trust through dogged determination and consistency there is a looming darkness in every single moment. In an instant that smiling man can wield an axe or detonate himself or his vehicle in an effort to kill, maim, and destroy; in an effort to kill civilians, children, soldiers, leaders, and to destroy the Canadian public’s resolve and faith in its soldiers and their leadership.

When I read letters such as Mr. Van Gurp’s I liken it to being in a car with teenagers. You may be on a long car trip to somewhere nice and beautiful; a veritable paradise, imagine you decide to drive to Disney World from Halifax NS. It is a long trip with many ways to get there, and you don’t have everything you need when you left, and having to make some of it up as you go.
Then from the backseat you hear “I’m bored.” - “are we there yet?” And as the trip continues maybe through some rough patches you hear “This is stupid” - “You went the wrong way” distracting you from driving. Everyone wants to be there right now with absolutely no regard or concern for how long it takes to get there. These are great kids, these teenagers; the people you live for and do everything for but as smart as they are they may not totally understand the world around them.

This is a one-way trip; there is no going back. We have set a journey in motion that must be carried out. This military action in support of a democratically elected government that needs us and wants us is historic and monumental. We as Canadians and as a coalition are in the midst of changes that will define an entire generation of Afghans, and Canadians. The success and strength of our country was created over hundreds of years with no real enemy seeking to undermine our forward progression, I do not comprehend how we build Afghanistan into something similar in twelve months.

Bottom line in simple terms, the Canadians in this country are your brothers, sisters, mothers and daughters and of course your sons and fathers; some of them are diplomats, humanitarians, social workers and leaders. Although this mission requires a “Team Canada” approach, we wear one uniform, we are soldiers, and there is an enemy standing in the way, and sometimes the best way to win the hearts and minds of the local population is to eliminate this enemy, permanently. We are committed to achieving the measurable goals of the “Afghanistan Compact” to accelerate development, increasing security, tackling the drug trade and strengthening governance by identifying three critical and interdependent “pillars” of activity: security; governance, the rule of law and human rights; and economic and social development.

In closing I would like to assure Mr. Van Gurp and those who share his concerns that we are here to achieve your goals—Canada’s goals. With diligence, dedication, and understanding we will achieve our aims, we will reach our destination.

For reference, the original Letter to the Editor which appeared in the 7 March 07 Halifax Daily News has been included in this post.

Reassess strategy

To the editor:

Last week we learned of yet another innocent Afghan killed by Canadian
soldiers. Through the government’s misguided military aggression, support for
insurgency is the only option for many Afghans. Each incident results in a
further erosion of the reputation of coalition forces and an increase in the
strength of the Taliban.

Prime Minister Stephen Harper’s approach, through trigger-happy Gen. Rick
Hillier, ignores all the lessons learned in regional counter-insurgency
experiences.

Afghanistan is rapidly becoming the main recruitment centre for Taliban
fighters. Canada’s approach is making already impoverished Afghans feel
alienated and hostile toward the international community.

According to the Senlis Council’s recent report, NATO makes no effort to
provide health care to civilians, and the main hospitals in Kandahar and Helmand
provinces remain “dilapidated, barren and filthy,” and lack “basic war zone
trauma treatment, medical diagnostic equipment, medicines, oxygen and trained
staff.”

This callous disregard for ordinary citizens, coupled with crushing poverty
and growing resentment of coalition troops, is a perfect recruiting environment
for Taliban forces. Canada needs to urgently reassess our strategy. We need
ongoing humanitarian aid, economic development and the establishment of
functioning health-care and education systems to win the hearts and minds of
ordinary citizens.

Canada needs to adopt policies that will win trust and confidence in
Afghanistan and must end U.S.-style blind aggression before the challenges
become insurmountable.

John van Gurp
Halifax

Haircuts

2007-03-23T09:31:00.000-04:00

I try to appreciate the ironies of life, to see them - recognize them, and either love them or hate them. Or so I tell myself.

Everything about living, working, and existing in this place called KAF is a Stephen King step away from being normal. There is a sense of replication here, a sense that this base is simply trying to emulate life from “back home”. This is obviously shaded, hmm - tinted by the many nationalities that are here. Therefore creating a true feeling that I am almost 100% positive exists nowhere else on earth. And if you dwelled on it for any length of time you would likely feel very isolated, or at least as if suffering from an odd sense of vertigo.

This –emulation – (like buying XBOSS games at the market) of course applies to how different countries, approach recreation, and how different countries HA! even how different companies from the same countries army do business on the battlefield. It affects absolutely everything; even down to the most mundane functions. Like getting your haircut.

For some a haircut is an important thing, an important ritual that can define how people perceive themselves and carry themselves. Most people I know have a dedicated person they go to; a person they seem to seek out when first moving somewhere. And will only avoid going to under the threat of severe bodily harm. They build up a trust, a bond, an unspoken agreement. My father has got his haircut in the same place for the last twenty-five years. I can guarantee their conversations have changed slightly, but their relationship hasn’t, I know my dads hairstyle hasn’t.
I have taken after my father in many ways, some frighteningly so. But I agree on finding a consistent and reliable barber or hairstylist to cut my hair, and heaven knows my hairstyle can change little. Even so there is a certain way I like to have my haircut, and if it fails to happen I feel odd and out of place, catching grimacing looks from myself in reflective surfaces. This lasts until I go get it fixed, or I forget about it. In the end, I’m not that vain.

So, under those conditions imagine walking into a small little American trailer the size of a camper, in the middle of Kandahar Airfield to have your haircut by two Russian women who have no grasp of the English language.
I know I will stereotyping horribly in the next couple lines, but not just in retrospect. It was clear these women were of some Russian decent in appearance, one looked remarkably like a woman I had seen in a Vodka commercial, though not dressed in a bikini, and she was not enjoying herself on a glacier with a Smirnoff Ice. Anyway it could have been as simple an observation as to notice the tattered Russian / English dictionary and phrase book on the counter.

While waiting I felt a curious dropping in my stomach as I looked at the faded and yellowed haircut selection pictures, ones that Judge Reinhold would have sported at least a decade ago. I said to myself, “Self,” I said, “this is going to go badly.” Then I got the gruff nod - great my turn. It would look weird to run away now.

So after a complicated series of hand gestures, saying “One” in three different languages, none of which was Russian mind you, and making exaggerated scissor motions did I get the message across to the woman from the Vodka commercial. Who then tossed the robe across me and regarded me with a look of sympathy reserved for the village idiot.

At one point during the haircut the woman started a very animated, and completely incomprehensibly soliloquy that had me curiously alarmed as she was looking directly at me in the mirror. I was beginning to formulate my plan of just saying “Da!” as that would be easier than getting the fact across that I did not have my secret decoder ring on. But much to my relief the woman cutting my Warrant’s hair responded with a low mumble. They both nodded. Hunh? Wonder what that was about.

Anyway about eight minutes later I walked out, fortunately not looking like a shaved poodle, and passed by the tall lanky nervous looking Aussie on his way in. As I left I seriously contemplated taking my own picture of that moment - to take back with me the next time. So I could point and say, “Do this again.”

The next time you go to get your hair cut, or styled by your regular barber or whomever, appreciate that moment. And tip them well.

As we drove back to work, my Warrant and I, in the Toyota Surf with right side drive he looked at me and said without a hint of jocularity, “You know…their fathers probably served here once.”

Hm, talk about perspective. Ha, talk about irony.

Care Packages

2007-03-23T07:47:00.000-04:00

The life of a soldier, though surrounded by the comrades you hope you don’t have to die for can be a lonely, lonely existence. No matter who we are we have left someone behind – a mother, father, wife, husband, girlfriend, boyfriend, children. There is a feeling like time is on hold here, at least for me, and that when I go home it will still be the Monday I left, maybe a few hours later. But time is an evil trickster and often it can also seem that it is double timing it through the deployment. Young children mature and go to college and marry. I sometimes feel that I am going to go home and see my grandkids.

One way to stay connected is via email and phone, but they lack the decided capability to fill your day with an actual physical presence from home. So frankly to me the best thing in the world is the care package. I have read many letters so far that are signed: To any Canadian Soldier, and you would not believe the impact on morale they have. For some person 4 to 94 to take the time to write us a letter to say thank you even for something that they may not completely understand is all the thanks I need. That and a Timmies coupon…

But when those packages arrive from friends and family the day takes on a whole new colour. You feel like, “wow they remembered me”; it feels like Christmas. Each package is met with excitement and anticipation, both from the receiver, and the ton of guys hanging around to see “wutcha got?”
And you end up surrounded it is inevitable. The joy of a care package is to be shared with your buddies. We gather to see who got what candy, or to see who got the latest Maxim or Stuff magazine, you know the ones chock full of hard hitting journalistic debates on the transient natures of conservative civil libertarianism, haha who am I kidding, it may be sad but true but seeing Jessica Alba in a skirt the size of a paper napkin can be the second best little bit of morale that a loved one can send. In the end there is nothing better than passing around a scented envelope, full of love and promise, which screams “REMEMBER ME? THIS IS WHAT I SMELL LIKE, REMEMBER?” I am being a bit facetious but ladies, women, darlings, we do remember, and we miss you, but we will tease the life out of each other regardless. And for clarity sake the contents always remain personal, and cherished. I recognize, as well, that I am writing this from a decidedly male point of view. But go with what you know, I really only know one female soldier well enough to comment, and she sent herself sweaters.

I had been waiting knowing I was going to receive something and then came a day that I got two packages, much to my surprise…as I opened my ‘gifts’ with excitement to find a Calculus text book in one envelope chock full of Timmies coupons, and also a package full of tea, candy and Tuna Filets. One of my soldiers looked at me with dead earnestness and said, “Calculus and Tuna? I don’t think you’re friends like you so much.”

True, I’m not a Tuna fan, but the remainder of candies and goodies, and teas was enough to completely fill my day. And seeing both things sitting on the desk was enough to make me feel like I was not that far from home. Then I chuckled and offered out the tuna.

So the tuna made someone else happy, and when I get tired of trying to understand the complexities of complex military and humanitarian operations in a sun blasted, war torn post repression state I will turn to calculus. Those of you who know my skills in math will know that I will quickly turn back to Islamic radicalism and think it a much easier set of quadratic derivatives to solve.

Fallen

2007-03-08T16:12:00.000-04:00

A deployment to Afghanistan for myself has been one of many firsts. This past week saw one I had hoped to never experience. It was my first ramp ceremony. All available Canadians- soldiers, and civilian collected at the airfield. There was conversation and light banter, and an avoidance to discuss the reason we all gathered.

The sun had set a while ago but it was still warm, relatively so. There was a continuous breeze blowing, and if you believe in such things it could have easily been taken as prophetic. We gathered and formed with a bit more purpose than I’ve usually seen of large groups of soldiers gathering, there was little complaining, little noise.

Things progressed quickly and soon we found ourselves on the march to take our positions. We made the solemn, and quiet march through the hazy darkness. The only sound was the mild and continuous wind in my ears, and the muffled staccato of hundreds of combat boots on the tarmac. We marched from the weak light of the hanger through the darkness towards the looming brightly lit beacon that was the Hercules waiting.

As we Canadians formed, tightly packed, shoulder-to-shoulder-to-shoulder three deep in a long line, we formed a corridor that would act as the final Kandahar road for a fallen comrade. As we shuffled into position, quietly, reverently I heard something that surprised me; though it shouldn’t have. Row after row of soldiers from other countries, marines, Brits, Aussies, Dutch all formed row after row behind us.

I was positioned in the front rank about 30 feet from the yawning open end of the Herc. We waited for what seemed an eternity, lined at attention. The precision, formality, and ambiance reminded me of ancient Viking tributes, or final tributes to fighting Kings. It made me think in that moment, that it is only in death we soldiers, we average Canadian men and women are Kings and Queens, if only to our peers.

Then there was a whine from a microphone, as it itself caught the wind. The Padres spoke their lines, and they were no longer the trivial platitudes of Remembrance Day of yesteryear. The words reverberated, and stuck. They were quick, efficient, and articulate.

The emotion was thick and palpable. And then the command sang out. “Task Force Afghanistan to your Fallen Comrade salute.”

I have always been moved by the haunting skirl of the bagpipes, but hearing it here, under these circumstances was like an emotional punch in the gut. I think we all stood there steeling ourselves, but still the weight of it hits you like a tidal wave. It was a slow moving tsunami that started at the far end of the lines, and then progressed as the slow cadence brought another Nova Scotian son his last 500 meters across Kandahar Airfield.

The procession was slow, as if purposely driving the point home, building and building. I watched the Padres, then the coffin itself pass in front of me, so close that I could have reached out and touched it. Then world was then like a kaleidoscope, colour and light blurry and refracted. The wave passed me by then, and I hitched in a deep breath. A few minutes later there were the muffled footsteps inside the belly of the aircraft.

I watched the faces of those across from me. Many of which I knew were like me, and did not know Cpl Megeny. But he was Canadian, he was young, and he may only be the first of our rotation. So, there etched on many face were grim looks, made even more fierce in the weird shadows cast by the spotlights, and there were the telltale glistening sparkles of tears in eyes and cheeks.

You haven’t seen anything until you have seen soldiers cry. I hope I never see it again.

"Its hard to fathom" - a run report from KAF

2007-03-05T00:17:00.000-04:00

It is hard to fathom, at 0430 with a gentle but steady rain falling, that this land could be a harsh daunting desert. But several days ago I had the opportunity to experience at least a glimpse at the possibility of such a thing.

I had seen the signs around, advertising the “KAF Jogging Route” (knowing full well that the use of the word jogging would send some of my RunningManiac friends into cardiac arrest, or at least begin again a spirited debate on semantics). Feeling particularly keen and able one day I armed myself with a 500ml bottle of weak Gatorade and started on an epic journey.

The ground here is often hard, concrete-like packed dirt, often littered with golf ball sized rocks that pester and annoy, and threaten to turn your ankle and leave you a hobbling victim at any time. This phenomenon is not exclusive to sneakers, as even in my combat boots I have felt the awkward and biting turn of an ankle. The ground in places is also a thick spongy mud, remnants of previous rains that evaporated before they were absorbed into the impervious soil. And after a few days when covered in dust can spring up on you like the terrible sinking pits reminiscent of the quicksand in the Princess Bride. After a few steps through this it collects on your boots or sneakers, weighing them down. Then you run across gravel and you end up with a weird gravel encrusted coral on your sneakers (or boots).

But for running, at least for the somewhat lazy runner like myself, the terrain is billiard table flat. Though running at about 3000ft above sea level, you run a smooth eerily flat course.

The running route almost immediately takes me parallel to the airstrip, and for any kid who has ever grown up and dreamt of Top Gun you feel a surge of adrenaline that takes you back. I stretch my legs out here, picking up the pace bit. Feeling the breeze. I pass people from other nations who smile and nod, like serious runners do. Ha-ha.

Then I round the far corner of the airfield, and come face-to-face with the mountains I have seen through cloudy hazes, dusty hazes and sunny hazes. Now seemingly close enough to touch the late afternoon sun shines like a spotlight on them. You cannot help but immediately get the sense of something great and terrible as you look towards the naked mountains. They are daunting rocky crags, reminiscent of a Tolkien yarn. They signify the rigid backbone of this nation. And they are beautiful. You cannot help but thinking “Hm, that is where they launch the rockets from.” And you cannot help but hate the mountains then.

From my vantage points around the airfield you see the true level of constant activity packed into this patch of dirt. This activity is an enormous plethora of air assets, some which threaten to shake my teeth loose from their very spot. As well, there is an enormous amount of construction activity, with workers of seemingly many nations, being supplied by continuous road convoys.

A word about the vehicles in these convoys. The term often used to define these vehicles is “Jingle Trucks” for they are often gaily painted and have some manner of chains adorning them so as they move they well, jingle. You get a feeling of a sense of pride from many of these drivers, who race along at 10 miles an hour and with big smiles. Many times either walking the base, or on this run (that I am trying to get around to describe) I was met with many smiles and waves. But these vehicles are rusted, old, and battered in many cases; however, they have been looked after to the point that they are at least serviceable.

But I digress.

This running route sometimes shows me the roads within the vicinity of the base, and these roads are a curious mix of some civilian vehicles as well as military vehicles coming and going. I run past the uncharted minefields that surround us. I watch convoys of military vehicles drive on doing their duty, or returning from. I know that this is a war zone, and with no levity I state that still with the amount of activity and varying levels of technology evident in this base I feel like I am in a weird dream that is a mixture of the computer games SIMCity and Civilization.

As I continue around nearing the end of my journey I realize then that the base is completely surrounded by this jagged mane of mountains, and with heat blazing off the small section of “blacktop” I feel as though I am running a route around the inside of and electric griddle. I get back to my room after about 11km, and about 75 minutes. I am covered in a pasty dust muck that coats my skin like some expensive ex-foliant. My shirt and shorts are drenched, yet dusty. My throat is a little raw from dust. But I feel good and exhilarated.

By the time I have finished and am back in my small room, I have a full understanding of the weird paradox this place truly is. In one (relatively speaking) small patch of mine riddled, sun blasted earth the most powerful nations on the planet have sent maybe not all their brightest, not all their best, maybe not even their bravest, but possibly the most dedicated, to a place that is as dangerous as any that exist currently on the globe. These soldiers do not share a religion; do not share a language with the proud innocent civilians of this country. But they share a fundamental humanity, a oneness, and to belittle that to the point of calling it political puppetry or a lost cause or ‘unwinnable’ is to do both sides a disservice. These dedicated, and brave few, (again relatively speaking) have gathered to offer something to this large dirt-poor country. That thing is hope.

I say these things with no arrogance, or expectation of praise for my job is safely within the wire, and I look up to my peers with awe, as well, from here. All I did was go for a run.

VD Scotty Style!

2007-02-19T09:19:00.000-04:00

It has taken me a few days to get to writing this down, but these days my time is not my own. As always I apologize for the length, hopefully it doesn’t take you longer to read it than it did for me to run it.

PreRace

This event would crazily be the one that would see me as a near nervous wreck before it began. This is a curious happenstance, because only twenty minutes before the race when I personally confirmed my availability for the race, (after evaluating genuine work requirements) I had no butterflies whatsoever. I also had no goals or expectations for this race either. It was viewed simply as an attempt to have a sense of normalcy and quell the jealousy of missing out on some of the big RM events this summer.

However, when I rounded the corner and saw the assembled collection of professional looking athletes my stomach dropped faster than a pass to Terrell Owens. There was a whole plethora of international characters assembled in an assortment of team singlets, festooned with set warmup routines, iPods, Garmins, cheering sections, confidence, and muscles.

I had, well, a pair of blue shorts.

For a race that was supposed to have a limited enrolment a crowd of over 100 had assembled to run a casual race to celebrate the opening of the new Canadian Gym. Considering the population on the base, the nature and unpredictability of their work that was a pretty damn good turnout. Of course it was also quite the shock to the six volunteers organizing the race. Race start scheduled for 1700, race actually begins at 1733.

In the week leading up to the event I had chatted several times with Scadian and Jaimer, who had hoped to be able to participate; however, it was not meant to be. Though I did see Scadian before the race and he wished me luck, expressed his disappointment, and snapped a quick picture that I have yet to see.

As I stood in the starting clot, well behind the “pros” I was standing next to a couple American Air Force types, at least that is what was prominently displayed on their T-Shirts. We all looked around nervously and we then shared a look; the sentiment was identical. “Please Allah, God, Buddha don’t let me F&%&%& embarrass myself…”

Let me post here a note on the phenomena of the uniform. Seeing people consistently in uniform can sometimes hide the fact that they are female; you take them just as another soldier. There is an equalizing power to the camouflage. Though, as most know, there is an extremely lucrative market capitalizing on the appeal of athletic men and women in various stages of uniform dress. And here on base you carry a weapon at all times, even in civilian clothes, unless of course you are doing PT, and for some seeing members of the opposite sex packing heat it can be quite stimulating, for others much more terrifying.

At any rate, after sharing the look with my back of the pack counter parts I scanned the crowd again shaking out my arms.

Then I saw a female, and realized ‘wow, it’s a chick!’

WOOOONK!! There goes the air horn. There stood Scotty scared sh%^less.

I didn’t see ‘It’s a chick’ again until I crossed the line.

The Race

As we all know, races are a truth serum. You can delude yourself about the level of training you have achieved and the running you have done to prepare. You can mislead yourself in terms of your mental and physical health. For the past few months I have been beating myself up about the real lack of consistency to my running. Averaging two-three runs a week, with no great distances I was doubtful I could do well in a race.

But as I ran, careful not to run too fast too soon, I felt really good. Though as I ran I started to take inventory of my condition. I had had about 10 hours sleep in the preceding 72 hours, and I had a baseball size bruise and laceration on the back of my calf. Running made it feel like my calf muscle was a bag of marbles.

Great. I had never run a five km race before. But I remember it being described as running at the very edge of uncomfortable for the entire five kms. I started off very uncomfortable and by km two I was still uncomfortable so I must have been doing it right.

The course meandered through the base, which provided a true sense of paradox, and surrealism. Part of the course ran past one of the tall fences, and as I took time to look across the scrubby potentially mine cluttered ground beyond the fence I could see a large flock of small goats trundling along lead by a couple small figures in the distance. Behind them stood one of the massive rocky crags that dot the landscape here. The light was good enough to see the lines and striations in the rock, and it seemed to loom, timeless.

As we ran, people literally of all nations, would clap their hands and would cheer us on. Local Nationals smiled and clapped, no doubt thinking us insane. We were applauded by soldiers, fully-kitted out, rolling by peeking out of armoured vehicles, off to do their thing.

By far one of the most unique race courses in the world.

Meanwhile Scotty trudged along, actually starting to pass people at km four. My watch said 23 minutes and change, I picked up the pace. It was official when I crossed the line, I could no longer breathe. I had been warned about the difference in elevation. The stitch threatening to tear a hole in my kidney let me know it in detail.

I finished 5.2 km in 27:33. No award winning performance and I finished admirably (and proudly) in the middle of the pack, having passed some of the individuals who had intimidated me at the onset.

PostRace

As those who have met me know I am a horrendous ambassador of the sport of running, or pretty much any other activity for that matter. It is not in my nature to be outward or talkative with those whom I do not know, and even after it takes some time for a level of comfort to develop. Regrettably, the lost art of friendly conversation is indeed a lost art with me. Though Kara has done her best to prompt me, guide me, and browbeat me into sociability. I am consoled by the ability to take snapshots of memory and place them in written snippets that allow me to live vicariously through others.

I provide this ‘anti-social’ preamble to tell you that the pre and post race mix of excited conversation was as energetic an event as I have stood in the middle of. And me being me I really did not engage in conversation, choosing instead to stand listening to endless conversations of a truly global community that became a humbling, and exhilarating experience. I stood there sipping my water in the dying Afghan sun listening to the exploits of athletes in myriad accents, and languages; stories of marathons, triathlons, sprints, ultras, and a well spoken agreement that the open sewage lagoon to our east really fricking stank mate.

As I mingled there, cooling quickly as the desert itself was doing in the fading light, I felt so blessed to be with others miles and miles away from home sharing a genuine appreciation for being a part of a simple running event, a pleasant slice of normalcy in a chaotic place. And in the next moment I was all at once reminded of those I have shared running with, and for the first time since I left, I was truly homesick.

This race was not a personal best, there were no great big bags of schwag, no adoring and enthusiastic crowds, and it was a simple somewhat forgettable course. In essence, this race of minimal expectations and non-climactic finish will likely go down in my personal history as one of the most memorable events ever, period. It does not supplant the memories of my first half marathon, or that of the kindred camaraderie and debauchery on the Cabot Trail, but it does possess all in itself a unique character that will never be matched.

Scotty

Something to amuse you

2007-02-13T19:42:00.000-04:00

There is an American coffee shop here, Green Beans, it is open 24 7 and the coffee is quite good (so I’m told) but they also have several green teas. Anyway (we) found a second one, deeper in the American lines. It is in with their gym and shit. Well it is a big warehouse and when we went in it was like visiting a dance club in the projects. They have a music room and the music was loud. But all the Americans were dressed in civvies, it was totally surreal. Big guys with baggy jeans, and bandanas, sunglasses (at night), and BLING!! And chicks in there Friday night whore clothes…
So the music stopped at 11, the “curfew” and then they all hung out outside smoking wondering what else to do. But there are some almost “gang”-like issues Army vs AF vs Marine. White vs Black..etc…and they’re all talking smack and armed !!!!!! Felt like I was going to be witnessing an episode of cops….

Rick Mercer for PM!!

2007-02-01T08:59:00.000-04:00

The text speaks for itself. Thanks Rick!!

By Courtesy (St. John's)
The Independent
Friday, January 26, 2007
By Rick Mercer

For The Independent

Poor Noreen Golfman. She wrote in her Jan. 12 column (Blowing in the Wind …
) that her holidays were ruined by what she felt were incessant reports about
Canadian men and women serving in Afghanistan. So upset was Noreen that, armed
with her legendary pen, sharpened from years in the trenches at Memorial
University’s women’s studies department, she went on the attack. I know I should
just ignore the good professor and write her off as another bitter baby boom
academic pining for what she fondly calls “the protest songs of yesteryear,” but
I can’t help myself. A response is exactly what she wants; and so I include it
here. After all, Newfoundlanders have seen this before: Noreen Golfman, sadly,
is Margaret Wente without the wit.

Dear Noreen,

I am so sorry to hear about the interruption to your holiday cheer. You say
in your column that it all started when the CBC ran a story on some “poor sod”
who got his legs blown off in Afghanistan.

The “poor sod” in question, Noreen, has a name and it is Cpl. Paul
Franklin. He is a medic in the Forces and has been a buddy of mine for years. I
had dinner with him last week in Edmonton, in fact. I will be sure to pass on to
him that his lack of legs caused you some personal discomfort this
Christmas.

Paul is a pretty amazing guy. You would like him I think. When I met him
years ago he had two good legs and a brutally funny sense of humour. He was so
funny that I was pretty sure he was a Newfoundlander. You probably know the type
(or maybe you don’t) — salt of the earth, always smiling, and like so many
health-care professionals, seemingly obsessed with helping others in need. These
days he spends his time training other health-care workers and learning how to
walk again. That’s a pretty exhausting task for Paul … heading into
rehabilitation he knew very well his chances of walking again were next to none,
considering he’s a double amputee, missing both legs above the knee. At the risk
of ruining your day Noreen, I’m proud to report that for the last few months he
has managed to walk his son to school almost every morning and it’s almost a
kilometre from his house. Next month Paul hopes to travel to Washington where he
claims he will learn how to run on something he calls “bionic flipper cheetah
feet.” The legs may be gone but the sense of humour is still very much
intact.

Forgive me Noreen for using Paul’s name so much, but seeing as you didn’t
catch it when CBC ran the profile on his recovery I thought it might be nice if
you perhaps bothered to remember it from here on in. This way, when you are
pontificating about him at a dinner party, you no longer have to refer to him
simply as the “poor sod,” but you can actually refer to him as Paul Franklin.
You may prefer “poor sod” of course; it’s all a matter of how you look at
things. You see a “poor sod” that ruined your Christmas and I see a truly
inspiring guy. That’s why I am thrilled that the CBC saw fit to run a story on
Paul and his wife Audra. I would go so far as to suggest that many people would
find their story, their marriage and their charitable endeavours inspiring. Just
as I am sure that many readers of The Independent are inspired by your
suggestion that Paul’s story has no place on the public broadcaster.

Further on in your column you ask why more people aren’t questioning
Canada’s role in Afghanistan. I understand this frustration. It’s a good
question. Why should Canada honour its United Nations-sanctioned NATO
commitments? Let’s have the discussion. I would welcome debate on the idea that
Canada should simply ignore its international obligations and pull out of
Afghanistan. By all means ask the questions Noreen, but surely such debates can
occur without begrudging the families of injured soldiers too much airtime at
Christmas?

Personally, I would have thought that as a professor of women’s studies you
would be somewhat supportive of the notion of a NATO presence in Afghanistan.
After all, it is the NATO force that is keeping the Taliban from power. In case
you missed it Noreen, the Taliban was a regime that systematically de-peopled
women to the point where they had no human rights whatsoever. This was a country
where until very recently it was illegal for a child to fly a kite or for a
little girl to receive any education. To put it in terms you might understand
Noreen, rest assured the Taliban would frown on your attending this year’s
opening night gala of the St. John’s International Women’s Film Festival. In
fact, as a woman, a professor, a writer and (one supposes) an advocate of the
concept that women are people, they would probably want to kill you three or
four times over. Thankfully that notion is moot in our cozy part of the world
but were it ever come to pass I would suggest that you would be grateful if a
“poor sod” like Paul Franklin happened along to risk his life to protect
yours.

And then of course you seem to be somehow personally indignant that I would
visit troops in Afghanistan over Christmas. You ask the question “When did the
worm turn?” Well I hate to break it to you, but in my case this worm has been
doing this for a long time now. It’s been a decade since I visited Canadian
peacekeeping operations in Bosnia and this Christmas marked my third trip to
Afghanistan. Why do I do it? Well I am not a soldier — that much is perfectly
clear. I don’t have the discipline or the skills. But I am an entertainer and
entertainers entertain. And occasionally, like most Canadians, I get to
volunteer my professional time to causes that I find personally
satisfying.

As a Newfoundlander this is very personal to me. On every one of these
trips I meet Newfoundlanders who serve proudly in the Canadian Forces. Every day
they do the hard work that we as a nation ask of them. They do this without
complaint and they do it knowing that at every turn there are people like you,
Noreen, suggesting that what they do is somehow undignified or misguided.

I am also curious Noreen why you refer to the head of the Canadian Forces,
General Rick Hillier, as “Rick ‘MUN graduate’ Hillier.” I would suggest that if
you wish to criticize General Hillier’s record of leadership or service to his
country you should feel free. He is a big boy. However, when you dismiss him as
“Rick ‘MUN Graduate’ Hillier” the message is loud and clear. Are you suggesting
that because General Hillier received an education at Memorial he is somehow
unqualified for high command? We are used to seeing this type of tactic in
certain national papers — not The Independent.

You end by saying you personally cannot envision that peace can ever be
paved with military offensives. May I suggest to you that in many instances in
history peace has been achieved exactly that way. The gates of Auschwitz were
not opened with peace talks. Holland was not liberated by peacekeepers and
fascism was not defeated with a deft pen. Time and time again men and women in
uniform have laid down their lives in just causes and in an effort to free
others from oppression.

It is unfortunate, Noreen, that in such instances people like yourself may
have your sensitivities offended, especially during the holiday season, but
perhaps that is a small price to pay. Best wishes for the remainder of 2007; may
it be a year of peace and prosperity.

the agony and the ecstasy

2007-01-26T13:14:00.000-04:00

The RM thread post is called “A Thank You Letter to RM”. The Blog version of this account is called “the agony and the ecstasy”. And in reality it is both.

In a few days I depart for A-Stan, and I wanted to leave a last post from homeside; as I do intend to send home frequent updates once over yonder.

I have been with RM, almost since it began, first vicariously through my wife, and then finally courageous enough to hop in. Though my post count would betray my dedication to the site, I have always at least surfed RM whenever I had the chance. It is through RM that I found enjoyment in a previously horrifying endeavour, and it has become an addicti- er, truly enjoyable hobby. Running -not websurfing-. As a result I feel more confident, much healthier, and have experienced that tremendous rush of minor and major running events. And though I would not consider myself comfortable around new people I have made a whole boatload of new friends (those I have met in person and those I have yet to have the honour of meeting in person). So anyway to avoid any semblance of sentimentality let me just say two things;

1) Good luck to everyone on every single run that you do, try to stay healthy, and stay active. Let every event that has a maniac at it be a M&G, among those who are currently members and those who are waiting for us to recruit them.

2) Second, and personally a bit more importantly, a sincere thanks to all of you who have in someway contacted Kara or myself in the last while to offer your encouragement and support on my/ our deployment. I will have a pretty good network of support over there and thanks to you folk she will too.

The ecstasy, the prospect of a tour, especially one to a war zone, is by all accounts highly sought after by those people in my line of work.Sound crazy? Getting chosen, or volun-told, is the equivalent of a young talented junior player being called up to the NHL to play in a high stress play-off game. It is what the majority of my friends and I have joined to do. It is our choice, our duty, and our honour to do so.

And it is not because we are wild Rambo-set-the-world-on-fire-types either, it is just that we revel in being able to do what few others can, or would do The tour itself lasts for six months, but in the past eight months I have spent the equivalent of six months away from home.

Sometimes I was two hours away, others three time zones. Therefore, we must also look to the families and friends we are leaving behind, the Agony. I have yet to step off Canadian soil but my team and I, as aforementioned, have spent a great deal of time away from home preparing. In a way we are also preparing our loved ones for that long separation too.

Remember, and this is the important line; Jaimer, Scadian, and I are three of nearly 2000 people who will head over. And they will all come home, but some will be covered in a Maple Flag.

To conclude simply, thanks to you lot on RM, I am a fitter soldier than I was. Guilt will do that. Just kidding. And for the rest of my family and friends reading this; thanks for the support, I’ll keep in touch, six months isn’t that long. And get your helmets on, ‘war stories’ to follow.

Yours in running, and web-based debauchery,

Scotty

the mall rant

2007-01-22T13:46:00.000-04:00

What the Hell is it about anything to do with Walmart, or malls in general that makes people stupid. I mean down right neanderthalic-four-thousand-year-regressive-stoopid?

I have thought about this a lot, but after today’s excursion to the mall it made me want to put it down in writing. We went to simply check out walmart for some cheap clothes for me to take to A-stan with me, and maybe get a bite of lunch.

Keep in mind Kara and I were not in a real hurry, and we had a cart to contain the kids; therefore we had no stress from our side of the bargain. The mall was not particularly busy but getting from point A to point B was like salmon swimming up stream in Niagara Falls. People would be shuffling along and then just stop dead in the middle of the aisle, to check their purses, to answer their cell phones, or check the condition and quality of the goddamned grout around the ceiling. Then they seem majorly offended if you say “Excuse me.”

We encountered this blocking behaviour in the entry way to several stores, as if it may have been some preternatural force conspiring with the good spirits of the universe from spending too much money or realizing that this years fashion trends are reminiscent of 1987 retro garbage.

Then of course there are the aisleways in the majority of these stores that are about 80% of the width of the shopping carts, and 96% of the strollers available on the market. I shared a few commiserating looks with grumpy fathers and embarrassed mothers who were trying to win a futile battle of manoeuvring their life around another goddamned clearance rack.

What’s funny is I have grown accustomed to the slow migratory shuffle of the teenage clones (with far more expensive cellphones than I could ever care to have, or afford). You can see these mindless drones from a mile away and avoid them quite handily, even with a shopping cart and two rambunctious kiddos!

It seems more to be middle-aged folks and families, or female shopping teams that possess this infuriating brain dead tendency. There was a mother who stopped her full cart directly in front the walmart checkouts and blocked literally seven different paying customers from entering a spot with three cashiers. And she was completely and absolutely oblivious, but able to determine that Britney Spears friends are worried about her.

I know we are all the main characters in the movies we call our lives, but at some point people have to W-A-K-E-U-P!!! please. Take whatever goddamned time you want to smell the proverbial flowers, but just be aware that as confident as you may be the world does not revolve around you, and never will.

The A-stan laptop.

2007-01-18T22:16:00.000-04:00

Well, finally. We broke down and got one.

here.

http://www.acer.ca/acereuro/page4.do?sp=page3&dau22.oid=20587&UserCtxParam=0&GroupCtxParam=0&dctx1=27&CountryISOCtxParam=CA&LanguageISOCtxParam=en&ctx3=-1&ctx4=Canada&crc=3863048393

Tats

2007-01-10T10:39:00.000-04:00

The arm belongs to Kara, it is her Koi. It is a custom piece down by Shawn at Inkredible. The scales were done free hand

This is my Laughing Buddha.

What's new.

2007-01-10T10:28:00.000-04:00

Well, yesterday was a good day. We signed the kids up for some activities. Sophia will son be starting First Dance, at DancEast. She is really excited...it will be once a week and will last a couple of months. If she likes it she can keep going.
Nathaniel is now signed up for Tae Kwon Do, he is excited to start that as well, and that is like an afterschool program a couple times a week.

I still feel 'guilt!' of all things when it comes to Nathaniel and hockey. Shouldn't every Canadian boy grow up playing hockey? I did and look how I turned out...nevermind, Tae Kwon Do it is. But seriously, I don't know how families afford hockey these days...my god! But the TKD will give him self confidence and he will be active, the same for Sophia, no way I should think she couldn't have played hockey either...but the dancing will get her in with other kids before she starts school, that ius the key right now.

On another note, the hunt for a treadmill has come to an end, Monday we will likely be buying one we found on Sears.ca, I'll put the specifics up later (once I find it again)

And finally my training has started up again. I am on day three of a 8 week 10km program, just to get used to running regularly again, and then when I am in Kandahar I have a 10miler program I want to follow...10 miles is what...16.09344 kms? That is for the first half of the tour. That way I can do a 1/2 or full marathon training plan for the second half.

Anyway, back to work next Monday.

The new Training Plan for 07.

2007-01-03T21:13:00.000-04:00

Well, ought seven has hit and I gots me some stuff to do.

I haven't really followed a training plan since my last event. I started a couple times towards other events but with the work training schedule I'd been following the past seven months everything went for a poop.

And leaning on that busy schedule like a crutch (an excuse!) I haven't run consistently for a while. I have been doing the one or two times a week thing, just enough to "remember" how to run. The runs I do now, are at an easy, conversational pace, with no set goal or distance. And that has been kinda working for me.

But kinda not working for me. My weight has started creeping back up again. And I don't like it. So back a plan I go. (Also I have been inspired by the progress the CodFather has had over the last while...)

My focus is on getting back to a strong ten km pace again. I am going to follow a good 8-week plan to get me back on track so I can comfortably run 10km again. There are several issues I am working through here.
1- The weather, the temp has been right, the ground surface has not. And I cannot afford any kind of injury right now.
2- Gonna be in A-stan before the ploan finishes, this is good though, because if I get motivated and stick to the plan then I can keep going once there.
3- Kara and I are looking at buying a treadmill. Likely buying it online, will it get here before I leave? Who knows?

I plan to start the new 10 km plan on Monday the 8th.

Wish me luck, I'll let you know how it goes.

Fort Minor

2007-01-03T21:09:00.000-04:00

Remember The Name

You ready?! Lets go!Yeah, for those of you that want to know what we're all aboutIt's like this y'all (c'mon!)

[Chorus]

This is ten percent luck, twenty percent skill

Fifteen percent concentrated power of will

Five percent pleasure, fifty percent pain

And a hundred percent reason to remember the name!

Mike! - He doesn't need his name up in lights

He just wants to be heard whether it's the beat or the mic

He feels so unlike everybody else, alone

In spite of the fact that some people still think that they know him

But fuck em, he knows the code

It's not about the salary

It's all about reality and making some noise

Makin the story - makin sure his clique stays up

That means when he puts it down Tak's pickin it up! let's go!

Who the hell is he anyway?

He never really talks much

Never concerned with status but still leavin them star struck

Humbled through opportunities given to him despite the fact

That many misjudge him because he makes a livin from writin raps

Put it together himself, now the picture connects

Never askin for someone's help, to get some respect

He's only focused on what he wrote, his will is beyond reach

And now when it all unfolds, the skill of an artist

It's just twenty percent skill

Eighty percent fear

Be one hundred percent clear cause Ryu is ill

Who would've thought that he'd be the one to set the west in flames

And I heard him wreckin with The Crystal Method, "Name Of The Game"

Came back dropped Megadef, took em to church

I like bleach man, why you have the stupidest verse?

This dude is the truth, now everybody be givin him guest spots

His stock's through the roof I heard he fuckin with S. Dot!

[Chorus]

They call him Ryu The Sick

And he's spittin fire with Mike

Got him out the dryer he's hot

Found him in Fort Minor with Tak

Been a fuckin annihilist porcupine

He's a prick, he's a cock

The type woman want to be with, and rappers hope he get shot

Eight years in the makin, patiently waitin to blow

Now the record with Shinoda's takin over the globe

He's got a partner in crime, his shit is equally dope

You wont believe the kind of shit that comes out of this kid's throat

Tak! - He's not your everyday on the block

He knows how to work with what he's got

Makin his way to the topPeople think its a common owners name

People keep askin him was it given at birth

Or does it stand for an acronym?

No he's livin proof, Got him rockin the booth

He'll get you buzzin quicker than a shot of vodka with juice

Him and his crew are known around as one of the best

Dedicated to what they doin give a hundred percent

Forget Mike - Nobody really knows how or why he works so hard

It seems like he's never got time

Because he writes every note and he writes every line

And I've seen him at work when that light goes on in his mind

It's like a design is written in his head every time

Before he even touches a key or speaks in a rhyme

And those motherfuckers he runs with, those kids that he signed?Ridiculous, without even trying, how do they do it?!

[Chorus - repeat 2x]

[Outro - Mike Shinoda]

Yeah! Fort MinorM. Shinoda - Styles of Beyond

Ryu! Takbir! Machine Shop!

I like the sound of this and the chorus. Good message in the chorus.

The December File.

2007-01-03T10:16:00.000-04:00

Looking back it is hard to remember that December only had 31 days in it. The first 16-17-maybe 18 days were busier than Hell.

I usually do all of my Christmas shopping in November, then pick small things up as I go. Well this past November I was in Wainwrong Alberta. So all my shopping, and Kara and I did all the shopping for the kiddos in Dec too!

There were a multitude of mandatory events with the Reg't, hence the title "Silly Season" as it is lovingly dubbed. A mess dinner, hockey games, Christmas dinner. All stuff that takes place in Gagetown. 'Cept for the hockey game, twas played in Moncton/ Dieppe this year. And the officers lost.
There was also a mutitude of paperwork to finish, and we had to make numerous trips to Gagetown again to drop off kit.

Anyway enough of that. Christmas itself was low key and an absolute success this year. Kara and the kids were so giddy, they were awake from about 4:30 on. We finally got up around 6:00. Man what a fun time!

A few days later my folks came up from Nova Scotia. The visit was great. My dad looked aftert the kids while Kara and I went out to get our "Christmas" tattoos. (once there are some pictures I will post). That was a lot of fun, Shawn Milton of Inkredible (www.inkredible.ca) is a fantastic artist, helluva guy too.
My mom was so enrapt by the process that I took her back to get her first tattoo!!! That was pretty friggin cool I must say. And no pussy little at for her, she got the Jeff Gordon 24 with flames on her shoulder.

The last thing to say about December was the passing of my grandmother, Nanny Kay. She was the true matriarch of the MacEachern family in every sense of the word. She was an awesome grandmother and will be missed. She would have been 78 on 4 January. Thoughts and a big "Thank You" to you Nanny Kay.

Holy Crap!

2007-01-03T09:49:00.000-04:00

It is absolutely incredible and shameful that I have neglected this place since Septemeber. And more than likely I have lost 98% of the Faithful Readers that I had, not that I had that many. Who really wnats to listen to me go on about shite, really?

There are a lot ofthings I would say, since Septmeber yeah sure!!!

I figure I will cover them on a month to month basis.

Sept, hmmm, not much to tell here, not that I can remember. I was in full swing of the training for the tour coming up and spent a lot of my time in Gagetown.

Oct- Nov, This is when I went to Wainwright Alberta for a month. I left on Oct 25, and the whole damn month felt like a continuation of that day. I really don't get the military sometimes, I think it is a real case of too many people trying to control things.

The way I, and my crew of guys, worked it out we were in "away" travelling and there in Wainwright for 30 days, and completed a 13 day exercise. Those 13 days were good and challenging, and laden with more brass than the Boston Pops! But the rest of the time were the exact type of days I try to avoid for my soldiers, sitting on our thumbs essentially doing frick all.

But for us merry few in my little band of ASCC guys it was not as bad as it could have been. We secured our own tent, with the help of our insider, and we were pretty much left alone. The guys all have laptops, and in the end developed a wireless gaming network that had them playing StarWars Battlefront and Command and Conquer head -to- head. This even got some of our counterparts from other sections involved.

At any rate that was the last exercise before deployment. A few more ticks is all that is needed before flying out. When am I flying out?...LOL good f'n question!!!

That has been my biggest complaint with this process. The process of organizing the flights and getting organized in Wainwright was a sheer and utterly embarassing debacle. Getting home was not much better. If getting us to A-Stan is as bad...hear that? That's morale dropping like a stone.

I think I will sum up here. I will post December on it's own.

Bubba Goes to School

2006-09-07T17:43:00.000-04:00

Today was a big day. Nathaniel had his first day of school. Kara and I had been prepping him for months, talking about it, getting him excited. And he was.

The excitement was really evident when he and Kara went out for some school shopping. Nathaniel got two complete new outfits of some nice jeans and shirts and a new hat. So that combined with the wicked cool Spiderman backpack his Grampy Lang got for him and his new Spiderman lunch box he was all set.

Last night I set my travel alarm clock for him for 6:45, he thought that was really cool! So with his lunch made, and clothes laid out (with Spiderman boxers and socks) he was all set. He went to bed around 8:30, and may have finally been asleep by ten!!!!

The clock in my room said 6:44 when Nathaniel came in with an energetic and infectious, “I’m up!”
“Go get dressed.” said mom. Footsteps. Thirty nanoseconds later footsteps back, then he begins dragging the blanket off the bed. He was dressed in his hat, his sneakers, and his backpack.
“Go downstairs.” said dad. Footsteps. Front door opens. Dad jumps up, “get in here you need to have breakfast!!” Door opens, closes, footsteps.
“Can you make me breakfast?” Nathaniel asks.

I don’t think he was excited at all.

A short time thereafter, (after coffee) Mom, Dad, Raven, and Sophia (complete in new rubber boots and a backpack to be like Bubba) walk Nathaniel to school. The mosquitoes were horrible.
Once there, Kara takes Nathaniel inside to find his classroom. That left me with one obedient thing and one thing running around sniffing people. Yep Raven just sat there at my feet. Just kidding.
But it was weird; I was in uniform, as I had to go to work right after. So I had a crowd of twenty kids, boys asking “Are you ARMY?” Girls asking “Can I pet your dog.” I felt like the Pied Piper….

Well all in all it went well, apparently he had fun and wants to go back. My little guy is still little, but he’s getting there. I am really proud of him. And I am proud of his mom, for not crying….
I am sure there will be many stories to follow.

A Nice Sunday Bike Ride

2006-09-03T21:05:00.000-04:00

I start this little monologue with a note on how out of touch fitness wise I have been for the last little while.

I had plans to run a full marathon in November in Moncton. Then as everyone knows, and a point I have belabored a bit too much, my professional life stepped up and said no. That’s cool, but I totally stepped ff the healthy bus for a while. Started eating poorly again with the excuse that I was busy, I started skipping runs, with the excuse that I was busy. The spiral continues but I think you and I get the point.

So, as things happen it seems that I will get the opportunity to go home for Thanksgiving, and the Valley harvest Marathon (and Half) are happening that weekend. For all kinds of reasons, personal pride, Kara, fellow Maniacs going I decided to get off the downward escalator and get on the one going back up.

I have started running again, and have been following a schedule again. And today I had a ten-twelve km planned.

I told you all that to tell you this.

I have had few days since I became a runner that I have woke up and truly felt that I didn’t want to run. Even days with injuries, days with no time, whatever I usually still felt like running. Today, nope. Maybe my body finally said, “Listen jackass, you are eating crap and were working continuous 16 hour days, NO running, that means you.”

So. I didn’t run, didn’t even dig out my running gear. Then I proceeded to feel restless and snappy all day. I busied myself round the house with little tasks and stuff. But the mood persisted.

Then on a whim I changed my clothes into some workout clothes and jumped on my bike, and started pedaling. Now I did do some planning. I filled my water bottle, had a quick snack, and drank a little water. I planned a route, well, sort of. I had a general idea of where I wanted to go, and considering my familiarity with this area I took this as a good opportunity to learn the area. I am so dumb.

I left and figured at most with the route I wanted to follow I would do about 15km, by far the longest ride I had done since reacquainting myself with the bike. The first warning sign should have been the sign that said “Salisbury 11km”, but maybe I was so frustrated by the continuous rolling hills. There was nary a level patch, I was either on a down slope or climbing a damn slope. I was changing gears more than the Red Sox change second basemen.

It was when I climbed the hill that housed the sign that said, “Welcome to Salisbury” That I realized I might have missed my turn…

I transitioned from the pavement to dirt to pavement at one point coming into and realized I had been shot. I hadn’t heard it, but I felt it. Right above my right bum cheek. Maybe the locals didn’t like bikers…kind of an Easy Rider thing. It paralyzed me for a short time. That’s when I decided I would backtrack to a payphone and call Kara. This I did do. And after I got off the phone I must have looked silly trying to find the pins that were sticking up through the seat into my ass. Never found them, or the shooter.

I figured with Kara coming as a knight in a shining Windstar I would back track and meet up with her. This I did do, it took a little while for me to work the kinks out but then I started to make some good time.

A short time later I was rescued, and mercilessly tortured by my son…ahhhh.

Kara and I backtracked to my turnaround point and clocked the distance. Apparently I made it 8 km back from my turnaround. All in all, I traveled exactly 30 km in 90 minutes. Much more than I thought possible at this stage in the game.

Well I must go, I am going to be surfing the internet for walkers.

Home Again.

2006-09-01T13:13:00.000-04:00

Hey Folks.

Back home again for a couple weeks. Was in Gagetown again for another exercise. The highlight of whch was getting to see the new Nyala up close and personal, what a huge vehicle...I want one!!!!

Yesterday Kara had her Root Canal done. Nothing serious, got to watch the whole thing, that was kinda neat.

My parents are in town for couple of days, checking out our new place, them seem to like it and the neighbourhood.

Running is going well, planning on being in NS for Thanksgiving and run the Valley Harvest 1/2. Good time to see all the family as it will be my last free time til Christams with deployment thereafter

Have fun y'all talk to you soon

$0.02 (response to an RM post)

2006-08-19T10:54:00.000-04:00

I've weighed in on this topic before, though I 'm not going to wade through the search function and find what I've said I will make an effort to throw out a Readers Digest Version of my thoughts.
Please forgive me, I am writing this after an extended time from home, after an extended time awake, with 40 hours before I leave to do it again. (That was not a sympathy/empathy ploy, those are facts, those of us who will be in Afghanistan in the new year for six months are already up to our necks living and breathing the training and prepartation to get there.) Not supporting "the war" is a personal and political decision, based on whatever factors make up your character and make you Canadian. And as a voter you can have a say. (as a soldier with 27 years in said to me recently "Don't like it, vote Liberal in a couple of months, they'll bring us home and remind everyone why it was a mistake, though everyone will have forgotten it was they who sent us...")
But supporting the Troops is also a personal decision based on whatever factors make up your character and make you Canadian. It can be as simple as not spitting on a Canadian soldier in an airport, or as simple as helping line the road leading to the base with yellow ribbons as they come home.

some one on RM wrote:
Personally, and maybe this is due to a lack of understanding, I don't support the 'war' in Afghanistan (surprised?). I remember hearing that more Canadian soldiers have been killed in Afghanistan now than in any other war since WWII. Please correct me if I'm wrong. Why are we fighting insurgency in Afghanistan? What good are we accomplishing there? What cause are Canadians dying for? Who benefits from winning this war? Is it even possible to win?

The mission statement of the Candian Troops in Afghanistan has never wavered, we are there to add credibility and stability to the governing authority in the country of Afghanistan. Not warfighting. Yes we are trained to kick ass, and take names. And in the Wild West environment of Afghanistan that is a necessary thing, and it is a damn good thing that we are good at it.
But we are also damn good at building schools, building infrastructure. We are not just fighting "an insurgency" (a little anti-US/IRAQ shading there) We are fighting an established terrorist regime, with skewed views of Islamic Law, and we are also fighting entrenched criminals and war lords who have profitted from the civil turmoil that has plagued Afghanistan for decades and who have kept the majority of the population dirt poor. We as a respected and established HAVE country are providing opportunity for impoverished have-nots. We, as soldiers, believe in these ideals as it is one thing we cherish about Canada, and I don't think we have the morale high ground to let some casulaites take that away from others.

Who benefits? The 6 year old girl who goes to school for the first time and learns how to read. The fifty year old woman who will get to vote for the first time in her life and be treated as a human. The thrity year old mechanic who gets to do what he is trained to do because for so long there was no way for him to do, and he can finally support his family. Who benefits? Canadians, we can say once Afghanistan takes fledgling steps as a recovering nation and we can say, yeah, we did that...

They wrote:
It seems counterproductive to fight religious fundamentalism with violence. Attacking the insurgents just seems to create a martyr complex which breeds more violence. Do Afghanis even want a democracy? I can think of 10 African countries who'd be better served by a peacekeeping force, or an installation of democracy.

Peacekeeping is dead. We are no longer in between equally strong sides and keeping them apart. We are peacemakers, by whatever means necessary. We are popluar in Afghanistan, average joe Afghan likes us and wants us there beacuse of what we mean. I don't know if Afghanistan wants democracy. They want freedom to pray the way they want and feed their children.
And you don't stop religious fanaticism by asking nice. You do whatever necessary to stop, interdict, and disrupt their operations, physically, and ideologically. As leaders we do not want to send our troops out into sustained combat because it is destructive not constructive, and there is more chance for body bags coming home. But sometimes you have to call a spade a spade and throat punch someone.

they wrote:
That said, I don't support our troops because our troops are enacting a mission I can't support. I empathize with the families and the soldiers themselves. I pray for the safe return of every soldier overseas. I wish Canadians weren't dying (seemingly) in vain. If there's a good reason that we're at war in Afghanistan, fill me in.

We are in Afghanistan because I believe we have a morale obligation to assist an impoverished society that has asked for our support. And because we can. I don't care if you support us, though I'd like you to. Just as long as you remember that politicians and the public choose our missions, we freely choose the lifestyle. /steps off soapbox/

zen moment

2006-08-12T15:16:00.000-04:00

Religion is not just some dry intellectual idea but rather your basic philosophy of life: you hear a teaching that makes sense to you, find through experience that it relates positively with your psychological makeup, get a real taste of it through practice, and adopt it as your spiritual path. That's the right way to enter the spiritual path.

We are not compelled to meditate by some outside agent, by other people, or by God.Rather, just as we are responsible for our own suffering, so are we solely responsible for our own cure. We have created the situation in which we find ourselves, and it is up to us to create the circumstances for our release.

Lama Yeshe

Please comment.

The photo of Buddha with View by Sean Duggan was found on the following website, which contains a heck of a lot of other interesting, and amazing photos. http://www.f1point4.com/f1point4/toy_camera/index.html

The day before I go away.

2006-08-12T14:52:00.000-04:00

Hey faithful readers...

It's Saturday and it is the day before I go away for two weeks to be involved in two separate, yet related exercises as part of TF1-07, (Task Force 1-07). As always I am excited, yet that is tempered by the fact that I will be away. It is excellent to be a part of a training scenario where shortfalls and lack thereofs are not things to be accounted for and accepted, but are attacked and if the exact thing is not readily available SOMETHING is made available. Really weird because the whole previous time with any training, whether as trainee or trainer we went without.

The fact that I am plugging into 2RCR Battle Group HQ and being useful is really good and has become quite real.

Recently, asI mentioned it in a previous post, I bought a bike. It is a KHS Westwood 19inch. Here: http://www.khscanada.com/v2/bikeview.php?id=335

The good news/ bad news/ and the no-so-bad-I-can-live-with-it..

Good news, I got it for less than the MSRP (taxes in) and I got a kickstand and water bottle/holder too. It is a nice comfortable bike, and it is very lightweight and mechanically seems pretty good. It will be the ideal bike for commuting to and from work...When I am in Moncton to do that...Ha-ha- *sigh*

Bad news, I was originally looking for bike that I could participate (comPLete, not coMPete) in a duathlon or two once I got home and had some time in the saddle. And I knew that beginners often used whatever they had. I had nothing, So I stayed away from the Mountain Bike side of the House and got something with "big thin tires" I know that may sound stupid, but I've ridden nothing but a unicycle for the last five years. So I got what I thought would be an ideal starter bike. Well, I do have a friend who was a semipro racer who scolded me saying that the bike is totally inadequate.

The result... I have decided to live with this bike, which is cool because it is still a work out for my legs and it is comfortable to ride on. Both good things to re-initiate me to two wheeled self-powered transportation. Also, the handlebars and seat are fully adjustable. So I was able to lower my grips forward and elevate my seat to make the riding position a bit more "aggressive" and "workout like".

As I said this bike is a really nice commuter bike, and Moncton seems to be pretty bicycle friendly, and I could likely get to just about anywhere in the city relatively easily and relatively quick, I like that. Especially with gas prices, and the fact that Nathaniel is getting better on his bike and is harder to keep up with now. So hopefully, upon my return we could bike together.

The ultimate plan (right now) is to make due with what I have (and I am not complaining I like what I have) and then upon my return I'll give some Du's a tri...*groan* and then maybe spend a couple grand on an entry level triathlon bike.

Til next time....(see you ina couple weeks)...

OH, and for those who usually email me at work or those who want to email me, I lost my entire contacts list recently so I have none of your email addys...so please please, lang.sm@forces.gc.ca... I want to keep in touch with you all at home and abroad...

UPDATE

2006-08-05T15:34:00.000-04:00

Well, it has been a heckuva long time since I updated anything…so as quick cheat sheet/ Readers’ Digest version of the last month: here goes…

Conveniently broken down into bite size chucks, divided into categories.

THE MOVE-

For all intents and purposes the move is complete, and it was a moderate to genuine success.

Kara and I got in to paint and bring some life to the institutional white walls. Decorating took a little time to get things the way we wanted it. Good thing we discussed a lot of it in advance.

We have recently added a new (enormous) desk to our office, and a new armoire. Specifics may follow if I get time.

THE NEIGHBOUHOOD-

Is outstanding, those of you who have been privy to the stories know that for the past four years our immediate neighbors in Gagetown were an absolute pain in the ass. I would have rathered been living next to a sewage treatment facility full of vipers.

The kids (and Kara) have definitely assimilated themselves into the area…and though the street out front is busy by local standards it is like an rarely traveled footpath compared to the ol’ neck o’ the woods.

All is good.

MY TRAINING-

Sadly, I have abandoned my ‘marathon is ‘06’ thoughts. Workup training for TF 1-07 is too demanding and unpredictable (even in it’s micro managed planning status) to allow me to dedicate the time required to meet such a goal…

However, my running continues, and I am trying to sustain runs and a ‘training schedule’ that would still leave me able to compete in a 10km race with little prep time, or a Half marathon (21km) on short notice. This includes one long run a week 9-13 km, whatever I can swing. Plus two shorter higher intensity runs, either speed work or tempo style runs…

Also I bought a bike yesterday, is a hybrid style bike. It is not a road bike, not a mountain bike. It has fairly big thin wheels and a lightweight frame. My primary intent is to commute to work, but also go out and pound the roads a couple times a week when I can… Start my Duathalon training as quick as I can.

MY OTHER TRAINING

I started officially training with the 2RCR Battle Group last week. It was the first time all the players had come together to for the command element that will be deploying in ’07.. It was a great experience, many lessons learned and I look forward to the coming months…

MY WRITING

Yeah, my writing, while on leave I wrote about five short stories and sketched out some more. I’m letting them sit before I go back and review them…Any one interested in giving them a read….?

That’s all for know. Specifics will come as I think of them.

I'm gonna give it a shot.

2006-06-30T14:44:00.000-04:00

Training for a marathon that is.

With the Help of HCD (HardCoreDuathlete), or Andy from RM, I have a plan.

My planned marathon debut will be 5 November in Moncton, the Legs for Literacy Marathon.

There is the possibility that this dream/ goal will go nowhere as September and October are brutally full of workup training for deployment. But I will do what i can to meet the training requirements...si non...I will have a great 1/2 then...

Here is the plan.

Week of July 16 - 22

Sunday: 11-13K LSD
Tuesday: 4x Hills or 4x 1 mile repeats
Thursday: 20 minutes @ Tempo

Week of July 23 - 29

Sunday: 12-14K LSD
Tuesday: 4x Hills or 4x 1 mile repeats
Thursday: 25 minutes @ Tempo

Week of July 30 - August 5

Sunday: 13-15K LSD
Tuesday: 5x Hills or 5x 1 mile repeats
Thursday: 30 minutes @ Tempo

Week of August 6 - 13

Sunday: 15-17K LSD
Tuesday: 5x Hills or 5x 1 mile repeats
Thursday: 35 minutes @ Tempo

Week of August 14 - 20 (Fall Back Week)

Sunday: 11-13K LSD
Tuesday: 4x Hills or 4x 1 mile repeats
Thursday: 20 minutes @ Tempo

Week of August 21 - August 27

Sunday: 18-20K LSD
Tuesday: 5x Hills or 5x 1 mile repeats
Thursday: 35 minutes @ Tempo

Week of August 28 - September 2

Sunday: 21-23K LSD
Tuesday: 5x Hills or 5x 1 mile repeats
Thursday: 35 minutes @ Tempo

Week of September 3 - 9

Sunday: 23-25K LSD
Tuesday: 6x Hills or 6x 1 mile repeats
Thursday: 405 minutes @ Tempo

Week of September 10 - 16

Sunday: 25-27K LSD
Tuesday: 6x Hills or 6x 1 mile repeats
Thursday: 40 minutes @ Tempo

Week of September 17 - 23 (Fall Back Week)

Sunday: 12-14K LSD
Tuesday: 4x Hills or 4x 1 mile repeats
Thursday: 20 minutes @ Tempo

Week of September 24 - 30

Sunday: 27-29K LSD
Tuesday: 7x Hills or 7x 1 mile repeats
Thursday: 45 minutes @ Tempo

Week of October 1 - 7

Sunday: 28-30K LSD
Tuesday: 7x 1 mile repeats
Thursday: 50 minutes @ Tempo

Week of October 8 -14

Sunday: 32K LSD
Tuesday: 8x 1 mile repeats
Thursday: 55 minutes @ Tempo

Week of October 15 -21 (Fall Back Week)

Sunday: 13-15K LSD
Tuesday: 4x 800m and 4x 400m
Thursday: 30 minutes @ Tempo

Week of October 22 -28

Sunday: 32-34K LSD
Tuesday: 4x 800m or 4x 400 repeats
Thursday: 45 minutes @ Tempo

Week of October 29 - November 4

Sunday: 15K LSD
Tuesday: 45 minute Easy Run w/4-5x 30sec pickups
Thursday: 30 minute Easy run w/3-4x 20-30sec pickups

Week of November 5

Sunday: Marathon Day

A Rookie Runners Paradox.

2006-06-27T12:49:00.000-04:00

Obviously I have not posted with great regularity as of late. Mostly as a result of my participation in a seven week course that begins the lead up to my deployment to Afghanistan in 07.

As I look at the history of my recent posts they are predominantly running based, and this shall be no exception. Though this will not be a race report but a commentary on running.

I begin by mentioning that I have been a runner for just shy of a year, and I have completed a couple 10k, one Half marathon, and participated in the CTRR. I do have some running goals for the future, CTRR 07, Full Marathon…etc. I feel comfortable in stating that running has become indoctrinated into my everyday life and is an official pastime.

However, during the aftermath of my last event I realized that my response to my results were, well, in a word…schizophrenic, or paradoxical. I am at once thrilled by the result; I felt I ran well, despite my belief I was not fully mentally prepared to run the event. I know that any running accomplishment that occurs these days trumps any previous running (with there is little of) and is becoming a second highlight reel in the history of Scotty’s Athletic Career. For these reasons I am content, I am happy, I am healthy.

However, it is when I compare the results of myself as an individual to those of the others who compete in the same event, or who are my age, and run similar events. As happy as I am with my running I am not ignorant of the fact that I consistently finish on the south side of half. And in no way what so ever am I a competitive runner. Which in itself, semantically, is a paradox because I am extremely competitive by nature.

This is where my problems begin I find myself discouraged by these truths. Before you think me insane I know I will never win an event I do not have the time, talent, or discipline to achieve this. I would simply like to be a “good” runner, on the north side of half…

I am at the same time proud that I achieved another PB on my latest 10k, yet realistic enough to know that it is only my third real 10k event, and I have likely yet to plateau so it is almost an unfair celebration.

The questions this leaves me with are:

Will I ever be faster? How fast can I be?
Is my running ability/ fitness still in its immaturity, and therefore hard to say?
How much faster would I be 15-20lbs lighter?

There are more questions but you get my gist…And I have no means by which to answer these questions.

The morale of this rambling monologue boils down to…I have some running goals, but I do not know how to temper my expectations.
I would hope that these are fears and questions that many new runners have experienced…and that there is some sage wisdom out there among the masses to allay these fears…

VOLUNTARY Army 10k

2006-06-24T23:20:00.000-04:00

*fade from orange* This was a really odd run/ race/ event for me. Foreward (and forewarned) For one, when I arrived I realized “hm, I’m not really ready for this.” The past week went by in a blur and Saturday morning arrived in a rude heap. I must say I had the best of intentions of doing three weeks of disciplined runs to get myself in the mindset for this event after CTRR. Oops. Silly me shoulda thought a little bit harder on that one. Let’s see… Week one, I was in the Field. (It is amazing how hilarious a vicious thunderstorm, torrential downpour and category 4 winds can be at 0230 Wednesday night…) Week two, final exercise for the course I was on…did get a couple o’ runs in. Week three, house hunting trip / honeymoon in Moncton. One run… After my arrival, and then I finally realized I had to run in less than an hour. And I got nervous. And I did not know what to do. I had never gotten nervous before. Maybe it was the home field “advantage” I had. The run was going to be on the trails I train on. Maybe it was the fact that I felt maybe as an ARMY guy at the ARMY 10k I had to be ARMY-ish? or maybe it was the fact that the last time I did a 10k event on these trails it was a horrible experience. *cue transitional music* (sappy retrospective) The year was 2004, October. I was on my final phase training course when they came in and said. “Ok, everyone will be doing the Terry Fox 10km next week” I was a bit heavier, much less a runner and sat there in freshly soiled combats with a stunned look on my face. Great. It was as embarrassing as I thought it would be, gasp, wheeze, I sprinted I walked, gasp, I lumbered, and staggered across the finish line at 1:04:xx. But it was great (sarcastic) my course was waiting for me, and most of my friends were still there. To my credit I still came in closer to the middle than the back…well, ish. That run taught me something. I was fat. I had convinced myself I was in shape…(and on some comparative scales it was arguable that I was). Shorter after I joined Jaimer and Scadian on there Fredericton 2005 Half quest. Which lasted about ten runs, as I had an operation scheduled a month before the event, and I was terrified, overwhelmed, and a wuss. And stopped running. Fast-forward to August 2005, CAW finds RM, therefore, ergo, donc, Scotty finds RM. *cue transitional music* (finally…the point) Today: I warm up a little, slap a few bugs. I feel unprepared. I have no MP3, no Garmin, and no watch. Nada, well a snazzy retro headband…I was running on pure measured output. My previous best 10k was 53:38, back in March. I had had a whisper goal before of 50:00, seemed like a reasonable goal. But in essence I just hoped to mirror my previous result. With only 100 or so starters I had no problem seeding my self about 1/3 of the way back… It was just before the 2km marker when I had a funny moment, that is when I started to feel “yeah, ok, got my stride now, breathings good, I feel good, look out world I’m loose now!” Then I look up and see this kid streaking towards me, doesn’t even look old enough to shave…little bugger is already on his way back (doing the five). So I smiled, and shoved his 85lb frame as hard as I could into the bushes. Which got a chorus of cheers from behind me… I wish. I was still chuckling to myself at the 4 km mark; people must’ve thought I’d lost it. I had heard quite a few people, unfamiliar with the route nervously chattering about the “hilliness” of the course, and to some like me, it was moot as I didn’t find them that bad, but for anyone who focused their training on level ground…oops. At any rate I had no clue how I was doing, time wise. Physically I was maintaining a cruising pace somewhere below ‘vomit’, but above ‘comfortable’. I was stuck right around ‘stitch’. I nodded to Dan, high-fived Jaimer, smiled with Pete, and high-fived Kara. As I came into the last km mark, a spot I know very well, I decided to leave my spleen and pancreas on the course and go for it. As I came around the six-foot wall on the obstacle course I see the finish. Holy carp…I lumber my way to the line. 52:02. I tried so hard to shave 3 more seconds off, but the timer mocked me… Still, a PB is a PB. I am surprised, excited, and sore… I like those accomplishment that sneak up on you unawares and yell, “BOO!” and then giggle at you… *roll credits*

1500kms and One Choked Herring.

2006-05-30T19:02:00.000-04:00

(Scotty at CTRR)

It’s Tuesday afternoon, and I am home, finally, with an opportunity to decompress- relax, and bask in the glow of something still immeasurable.

Foreward- When I answered the call to become one of Brendan’s Volunteers back in later stages of oh-five I had yet to run a single event, not a one. So many would wonder what in the Hell I had to be thinking when I agreed to run a leg at CTRR. The quick answer is that I wasn’t thinking, or at least not properly. It seemed like a good challenge, and I did get swept up in the wave of excitement, anticipation that grew into a Tsunami that crashed upon the shores of Cape Breton like a great and terrible storm.

I had the Fredericton Half Marathon a mere two weeks before as my training goal, and as I have posted before, my bib did well. I had not had the time to really consider the magnitude of the run that would follow two weeks after. These days are an awkward time for me, and this awkwardness is shared by James (Scadian), Jaimer, Kara, and Trish too; and it all revolves around February 07. That is the date that three of us in the Merry NB Crew will deploy to Afghanistan.

I have heard that an impending deployment can be equated to being told you are suffering from a fatal illness, once you have your deployment time, everything in your life goes on hold, and stays that way for at least a year by the time the training, deployment, and return home is complete. I know Scadian and myself felt particular strain leading to this event as we really did not get a chance to prepare the way we would have liked and it was questionable to the last possible moments if we would even get to make the trek.

But fortune favored us and we did get to make the trek, though with it required our immediate return with the weight of obligations to training calling us back for 0630 Monday morning. But those 60 insane hours that covered 1500kms, 4 legs equaling almost 70kms, an 11 x 11 cabin, and one ‘choked herring’ was a journey into a place where time stood still, and all was right in the world.

I told you that to tell you this, and so you would understand the emotion and sentiment behind my words.

~Friday, the plan is coming together like a train wreck. Once we finally had the kids away, Raven accounted for, James out of the field and showered, and Trish’s kids duct taped to her van we were good to go.

Six hours and three Great Big Sea CD’s later we arrive at the Silver Dart and as if it were scripted the Maniacs were lined up right there at the door. Of course it is at this point I must apologize to all my fellow Maniacs as I was about as friendly as a cactus in the but as I was totally bone weary from a long work week and a long drive. Paying $20 for a pasta supper with no pasta and no dessert of course enhanced my mood. The three pieces of bread I had though were worth it.
We took a trek to the Firehall, and I watched the NB crew assimilate themselves into the RM Nation dancers, too cute!!!!

Then it was time to call it a night that led to the game “Let’s find our unmarked campsite” Fortunately, we found it with out too much incident, and my companions gave me my bottle and put me to bed.

~Saturday, when the day started I still had no clue what I was in for, none. Having missed the team meeting and some of the hoopla I still was not “in the know” And as we started out through the drive, the energy in the air became palpable, like its own weather front, rivaling and eventually overcoming the rain. We caught up to the trail on Leg 3 and I knew my memories, and perhaps my entire running career would never be the same again.

My run-

Well, I did Leg 6, 17.5km, rating of 4.5, with the threat of “Strong Coastal Breezes”
I was in the zone as I milled around after Scadian’s leg. I shared some shoulder time with the stunning Portia Bates, before she ran off into the horizon.
My goal was 1:40, but I wasn’t optimistic because that would have me almost matching my Half marathon pace in Fredericton, which is like running across a pool table, not a wash board.
When everyone took off it took little time before my morale was in the toilet. A group of sixty people race off in to the distance and by the first real hill I was 200-300m behind my closest competition. I checked James’ Garmin and I was maintaining 5:00km for nearly the first four km, which is well above my normal pace, and I fell further and further behind.
My support crew must have seen all the racers tearing off into the distance and thought “Oh crap” because Kara was soon there shouting and jumping and cheering. I started to feel a bit better. Then as I came over the hill I saw the red wig, and I knew all couldn’t be wrong in the world.

I kept going, remembering Sherry’s banner, and you can pick whichever slogan because I was going through them all. I figured my goal was shot, so I made a new one. I would not walk on a hill, at all, ever. Yes I am a sucker for punishment.

I was on autopilot throughout the entire mid potion of the race. I saw all the maniacs on the course and I wanted to hug them all, though I must have looked like old yeller did at the end just waiting for someone to shoot me.

Then, after my long down hill when I was starting to pass people I heard a weird reverberating echo of shouts, horns, and the odd primal beat of rocks on the guardrails. I thought it must be a trick of landscape because that noise appears to be coming from that very steep hill going the other way.

I had memorized my paper brochure and knew my leg ended with a stiff incline. When I rounded the corner and saw what was facing me I literally laughed out loud. Apparently the little jump on the brochure outline was a three-kilometer stretch steadily up hill. I redoubled my efforts and my vow to not walk, and I started to pass a few more people.

And much to my surprise as I reached the top, the mat was still there, and I could tag my wife. I had met my goal, no walking up hill; at least I had my pride. And when Kara told me my time I was stunned. 1:37 and change. Some how I had sustained a 5:35 pace, just slightly faster than my half two weeks ago.

Then it was time to don my clown gear and start cheering.

The other highlights

1) The Homestyle Restaurant in Cheticamp, huge portion sizes of Nectar and Ambrosia I swear.
2) The accomplishment of Kara finishing her leg after all she’s been through and put up with, I have more pride in that that anything.
3) I hope I was able to pay back some debts at the water station, everyone else brought so much to this entire weekend. Thank you all and I will forever be in your debt.
4) For James and I it is the end of an era, we have known each other since Grade 8 and except for a couple of short periods we have lived in the same neck of the woods and on July 10 we will be posted in separate directions. The guns, the guns, thank God the guns.
5) I hereby submit my name for next year’s events. Though this time I will coordinate a trip home from Kandahar Airfield instead of off a course.

Conclusion.

I am overwhelmed at all levels.
Personally, I am pretty dang proud of my results.
The little NB Super van that could, wow, we pulled it all together.
The entire RM CTRR team. Hm, what can one say?

Thank you all.

Oh yeah, the Choked Herring…It is a small thing, but it ended up being the running joke and defining slogan for the NB trip. It was the password that initiated the fun of the weekend. As we approached Baddeck there was a small little restaurant called the Herring Choker. It took us all by surprise and struck us quite funny. I’ll let you imagine all the lewd references that may or may not have been tossed around.

The Life and Times of Bib #1116.

2006-05-14T15:56:00.000-04:00

“-Hi, Bib #1116 here, but my friends call me Bib #1116. I want to tell you the story of my Fredericton Half Marathon. I waited with nervous anxiety on the table with all my 10 km, Half, and Full Buddies… and had to listen to Bib# 2342 brag to my girlfriend Bib # 733. But I digress.

Well the line up starts moving through, and now I’m getting excited…I can’t wait to see what kind of athlete my runner will be. Is it an elite athlete? a sexy first timer? The anticipation was palpable, so imagine my disappointment when the slightly round guy picked me up. I tried to introduce myself but then I as shoved unceremoniously into a yellow plastic bag, but I did get to meet some nice brochures from other races, and I did cuddle up to a Fredericton Half T Shirt, roughly the size of a three-man tent.

So I was pretty excited listening to this round guy talk about his training runs and telling people about his goals for the next day. “Hmm, not too bad” I think to myself as he mentions his goal is 2:09, with a whisper goal of breaking 2:00. So given how serious lard ass sounds I was hoping we’d go through some nice prerace rituals… Well this guy had the weirdest prerace rituals ever. He left me hanging on the pantry door in the cheap bag so the damn dog could sniff me endlessly. So while I sit there Lardo drinks six beers! I mean come on, are you serious, his logic is, well they’re LIGHT beers!!

All my training going for squat.

The next day was much better, as this guy seems to know some pretty cool people, some running the 10, some the Half. Soon I realize it’s time to “pin me to Buddha!” and I guess I was just lucky that drunk guy realized there were predrilled holed for the safety pins.

So we milled around a bit, the nervous energy oozing out of this guys pores, or maybe it was alcohol…but anyway we all got to pose for great pictures, pictures and more pictures, with hugs and words. Had to admit this guy was in with a cool crowd.

So while I’m still posing for pictures I realize,”whoa crap we’re moving” The technological wunderkind that I’m hooked to spent the first km trying to figure out how to start his watch.

After that it was pretty smooth sailing. This guy had a pace bracelet, cleverly crafted out of duct tape. He stopped and walked his way through most of the water stations, which he was kind enough to share with me most of the time.

It was a gorgeous day, with a little breeze lots of sun, and a lot of smiling happy runners. So I feel the guy start to wheeze a little feeling his energy flag a little at km 19. This guy had some gels with him but was too busy running to take them. The next thing I know we round the last corner and this guy is waning, when suddenly he kicks it in and I must admit the breeze felt nice…I see the Finish line approaching and I am yelling at this guy to slow down, I’m going to be all bunched up in the pictures…”

So his wife who was crushing us in these huge bear hugs after he staggered past the finish line told him our time…

1:57:49… he seemed pretty happy. And I almost forgave him shoving me in a plastic bag, until he did it again on the way home.”

Hey Scott here, damn thing is awful long winded. Any way, I’m pretty proud not just of myself, but of all the RM crew, James, Jaime thanks for all the training runs and the motivation, great way to cap our stay in Gagetown eh? (+CTRR). Dani and MrDani, great work on the 10km!! Sanders, Karen, Dan great to meet you/ see you again. And Trish great job, first race, first half, big smiles.

Oh yeah, hurray for me actually ran a smart race, minus forgetting the gels, and the beer the night before…I did beat 2:00 though-

Body Management vs. Run Management

2006-05-12T18:37:00.000-04:00

RUNNING ECONOMY The amount of oxygen used when running at a steady, less-than-all-out effort. An economical runner uses less energy to maintain the same pace. This leaves the more efficient runner with greater energy reserves for later in a workout or race. Runners World June 2006

e·piph·a·ny n. pl. e·piph·a·nies
Epiphany
1- A Christian feast celebrating the manifestation of the divine nature of Jesus to the Gentiles as represented by the Magi.
January 6, on which this feast is traditionally observed.
2- A revelatory manifestation of a divine being.

3-A sudden manifestation of the essence or meaning of something.
b- A comprehension or perception of reality by means of a sudden intuitive realization: “I experienced an epiphany, a spiritual flash that would change the way I viewed myself” (Frank Maier).

I suppose it is an epiphany even when it takes months for a realization to happen, and I suppose in the religious context above it is something that could take a lifetime, equitable to a Buddhist seeking Enlightenment. When I read the ‘running economy’ definition in this months well used edition of the Runners World a lot of ideas in my head came together with the subtlety of a train wreck.

Back in August 05 when I followed Kara’s example and started running for fun I, personally, was a victim of the stopwatch and formulas. Slowly over time I have weaned my self from using devices during my runs, watches, Garmins, MP3 players, every thing, I would even put the treadmill to calorie counter (which did disappoint me a little…but I digress). So everything is becoming what in some circles in known as a ‘Zen’ runner, no bias on the religion. I have learned to run and enjoy running by perceived exertion. I often felt trapped in training plans having to run a certain distance at a certain speed, even on days when I felt like sh—aving cream. So I started taking the strict distances as suggestions, and I allowed my running objectives to be incorporated into the realities of my work and family schedules. Though I did maintain a solid focus on conducting my LSDs on weekends. So I stayed true to my distances, and technically stayed true to my schedule, but did in a way that would not have me hurting myself or grow weary or discouraged.

Though it was an injury, I think, that started my unconscious focus on Body Management. I have become so aware now of what it takes to fuel my body and build my body to achieve the goals I want. I must add immediately though that this is only a relative success, as before I was completely and utter oblivious to the way I treated my body, everything became so right now. I want to drink a lot of beer right now, I want a bag of chips right now, I want to run right now….Having planned out that “Yes Saturday/ Sunday, I will do a long distance” has lead me to hydrate before, during and after, and feed my body and rest the adequate amount to make it worth while.
I began to realize these things just before, during, and after my last 18km LSD with Trish. It was helped by the fact that I am on course right now, and had to regiment my weekly PT and weekend timings to make sure it happened as it was a necessary thing to act as final preparation for Sunday’s Half.

I now know I have trained enough and will be able to complete the half (barring catastrophe), goal number one has been accomplished. Goal two is to try and beat 2:15 for a time. But that will rely on Race Management, making sure that I run at a good even pace for the entirety of the race. So I have been going over walk-run strategies, music- no music strategies in my mind.

I hope that I can achieve a balance, and display running economy during the half. For it was something I achieved this week in an unplanned frantic five km on the treadmill. Normally my treadmill routine starts off with a “warmup” at about 10km/hr. Then increases, based on time or distance or whim until the last bit I am sprinting at 14 km/h. Well, this past run I started at 10-11km for the first two km, because I wanted to run at one smooth pace. I got bored and jacked the treadmill to 13km/h planning to sprint for a short time. That short time lasted for 15 minutes and I managed a 24 minute 5 km, which surprised me. I was nowhere near as beat and winded as usual. Lesson learned, nice even pace, even at a faster race brings the same result as slow and steady followed but by gut wrenching sprint…the kind of gut wrenching sprint that has me leaking bacon fat instead of sweat…

So hopefully I have done enough body management to facilitate good run management to facilitate goal 2 being met…

Did that just sound awkward to me?

Thoughts on my career, Running, Friendship, and the Human Condition

2006-05-07T20:22:00.000-04:00

Well, unfortunately another long delayed Blog post, and for those in the know I’ll make it a bit more erudite than “What a friggin good time”!

I started a course last Monday known in the Air Defence world as BMC, Battlefield Management Course. In a nutshell it is the course than brings me, “to the next level” of my career progression. And I get the feeling that for all seven of us on the course it arrived the same way, with relentless determination and little in the way of real warning or preparation. There were some of us who were aware of when it should happen and what it was likely all about but little in the way of real meat.

Now I say this course is designed to get us to the next level, where we take a step from junior Captain status and are expected to fill a void in the Air Defence world as (more) senior Captains. Cool eh? But here’s the kicker- we are now entering the oft maligned world of the staff officer. A level where we really don’t have troops, we may have a small staff under us, but really we are just higher paid worker bees making sure the Commanders plan works, and is viable. And for us AD types the level of job we will be doing can be described thusly, us doing our job won’t win any battles, but if we don’t do it could mean we lose the battle. Rewarding. :/

I approach the life of a staff officer with a little apprehension; I have grown to enjoy immensely the rush of command. For the past year I have commanded a small troop of gung ho, professional soldiers in the world of UAV’s. That era has come to an end, unceremoniously, as I would have it. And who knows when I will command again?
However, I don’t want to be totally misleading here. I am looking forward to the next step, more responsibility, more decision-making, and more clout. We’ll see I guess.

On a different note, the running is going well. It looks like the half, for me will happen. And to paraphrase Dicken’s “It was the best of times it was the worst of times” as Kara is still nursing a bad foot injury that we want healed for CTRR. We’ve both had to let go of the dream of running the Half together, but we will defeat the Cabot Trail together. I admire her passion about missing the half, and it really sent it home that she is committed to maintaining the positive changes we’ve both made.

The highlight of running this week was my 18km LSD with someone who is becoming a close friend. There is a lot of time to get to know someone through the “pain and agony” of the gel experiment, loose gravel, and sweaty spandex…The run left me feeling confident, happy, and totally primed for the half AND CTRR. Yesterday was a full CTRR workup, starting with the Long Slow Distance, followed by marathon power drinking with most of my close friends from Gagetown, to which all of whom Kara and I will be saying some semblance of good bye to in the near future.

Feeling uncharacteristically philosophical, forgive me this; I have been admiring my friends as of late. Particularly their resolve, determination, or their passion for life. This isn’t the place for me to go into specifics, but I am so glad I try to surround my self with positive people. You know who you are.

Why waste so much energy on ridiculous things?

Well, I’m going to sign off now, time to go get teary eyed watching Ty Pennington change someone’s life, LOL. Take care, and I yes, I will write sooner next time.

In the Aftermath

2006-04-29T12:31:00.000-04:00

Wow, wudda friggin good time last night! Even as the DD!

There was so much positive energy it was unreal, all of which was enhanced (slightly) by the alcohol.

The music was good, at both places and ya gotta love waitresses in kilts!!!

I had the most fun I've had in a while, and while it might not have been Barrington Street it'll do for now, right guys?

Bt no one lost a peanut shell in their cleavage, no wait... Well at least no one dumped beer in their own crotch, no wait...

Well at least nothing went "BOOM!" No wait....

Did we ever discuss CTRR?

The Fifteen-Minute Solution

2006-04-25T20:01:00.000-04:00

As is the normal cycle of Lang-Life Kara and I have hit bottom again. Don’t worry it is nothing drastic; we’ve hit the bottom of the rut.

Every so often life tackles us about the knees when we weren’t looking, and we realize we have stopped controlling what’s going on and things build up and breakdown.

In particular, I am speaking to the state of clutter and chaos consuming the house, floor-by-floor, room-by-room. This domestic chaos (Can’t Have Anyone Over Syndrome) is inevitably tied to the financial lethargy our life has had since we met that at times rears it’s ugly head and becomes an all-pervasive feeling of dread and impending doom.

So with the posting message in hand and now an address for where we will live in Moncton Kara and I had a full out emotion session, with raised voices, tears etc. But the cool thing is we were not at each other’s throats as may have happened earlier in our relationship. We were, in essence, completely on the same page. Though we do have fundamentally different ways of looking at both the problem and the solution.

The solution that worked for us before in terms of decluttering and organizing was something Kara found at FlyLady.com. To summarize right now we are adopting what I call “the 15 minute solution”. A strategy of Crisis Cleaning that has you begin in the kitchen and clean, and clear surfaces for fifteen minutes (use a timer), then when the timer goes of you move to the living room and do the same, then to the kitchen again. At the end of the third segment you take a fifteen-minute break, where you relax and enjoy the accomplishment of the previous 45 minutes.

So we began last night and took a tremendous step towards the top of the rut. And gosh darnit it feels good.

As for the financial lethargy, ha, not such an easy fix. There is just never enough coming in for us to get ahead. At our best we are breaking even. We will be taking drastic measures to catch up this time. And that means no Fredericton Half marathon. A) we can’t buy Kara the sneakers she needs, and b) we can’t pay to enter. So after six months of training it is a really cocksucker of a kick in the balls.

Sacrifices we make eh?

But to end on a positive note the fifteen minute solution adds such a piece of mind to the upcoming move. And if we can start on the right foot in Moncton then that will be ¾ of the battle.

Til next time.

A note on where I've been.

2006-04-23T22:05:00.000-04:00

Work, the simple answer.

This week was a very long, yet rewarding week at work. It was the confrimation week for a Vindicator UAV course that ran in my troop. The weather was horrid the first few days; wind, rain, hail, and the wind.

had a lot of high profile (read high ranking, or important) visitors, and i think it went well despite the added stress.

My running went for a dump, though I did get one great run in with james a and Jaime ( a fortuitous turn as it wasn't planned)

tomorrow, an LSD.

A stolen journalling exercise

2006-04-23T21:36:00.000-04:00

Having read a good friends blog I was so struck by one of her posts that I decided to explore the same question. Though my own version may lack the focus of the original intent it held for her I think it will be an excellent exercise. Here is the question:

Are you a night owl or a morning person or something in between? Do you know when this habit began in your life? Do you think people’s sleep patterns are really a part of who they are (like hair color) or can be changed with circumstances?

-The easy answer to this question is that I am a full-blown morning person. I do know when this habit began, and I believe though natural, they can be changed by circumstances.

My explanation. I have always gotten up early, always. I used to always be awake a half hour before the sun would rise. This was a habit reinforced by my requirement to always get up for school, or to get up to go to hockey practise. This ability and preference for me to start my day as early as possible was an advantage, especially when it came to sports as my mental readiness was often much more focused than my teammates during early practises.

This has proven so extremely advantageous for me considering my career choice. Being a soldier, and an officer often requires me to be up before the rest, even if I went down after all the rest. But I think I have a good ability to wake up, and wake up quickly and alert. This is coupled with my ability to shut myself off, an ability Kara hates, and that I will discuss in a couple paragraphs from now.

Even if I take the time to stay out, or stay up and be a night owl I will 95% of the time be awake first thing in the morning. This may leave me as a complete writeoff by 1400 but I was up. Kara and I have always been very different in this regard as I would classify her as a definitive night owl. She would be happy if her day started at 9 am with a two hour nap. But her fun isn't starting til 2230-2300.

This habit, as mentioned, mostly developed naturally for me as a result of forced school timings and hockey practise. But I began to acknowledge my like for it in High School, and I have a real fascination with the "dead"morning hours, the time of pure darkness, and often calmness usually at about 3:30 to 4:30 in the morning. I went through a period in Grade 12 and first year university where I stayed up all night to reach this point, then I smartened up and started going to bed earlier and getting up at this time.

It is my favorite time to drive long distances, it is my favorite time to pull sentry or CP duty.

I have really developed a skill that Kara hates, and that is my ability to turn off, and fall asleep almost immediately. No matter what is going on in my life. This has been ultra enhanced by my reaction to Basic training, when I realized, "You know what? screw it, tomorrow is going to get here, and it's probably going to suck, but I don't want it to suck and be dragging my ass!" This ability to detach was something mentioned and explored in a book I just finished "Tuesdays With Morrie" (review to follow in another Blog!) I pride myself on this ability, and though I do have those times whan I just can't do it, I pride myself on "letting go" and then reestablishing the connection (and the heartburn) the next morning.

I believe peoples sleeping habits are the perfect blend of nurture and nature. I think I am predisposed to an early rising, and events in my life made it habit. Working to detach myself from issues has been something I have nurtured, and have tried to make 'natural"'.

I think people can set conditions for their own success if they make it a) a priority and b) if the circumstances allow for it to happen. Causes of our stress we cannot control, reactions to that stress we can. Some things just can't be done from 2300-0500, so laying awake brooding/panicking is no help to anyone.

Those are my thoughts anyway, and almost worth a nickel...

What a great exercise...

Til next time.

A short note about Monday's shopping.

2006-04-18T13:49:00.000-04:00

Kara and I followed EBay religiously for five days. The exact part required to make my bike almost road worthy was on for a decent price American.
It came down to the big day. Kara went with Trish for a 14km run...which is awesome in and of itself. So, I went upstairs to play some Age of Empires to pass the time. Then the phone started ringing, then the kids were hungry, then the family looking for bedframes that Kara posted on Fredericton Freecycle arrived. Funny, because I was unaware that they were coming, and the bed frames were in about twelve %$#%# ing locations around the house.
But once again things calm down, and I go back to Age of Empires, which again, funny, was not on pause while I was away and I was getting the shy-za trounced out of me. So I get it all sorted out and carry on.

Five minutes later Kara comes in the room, cheeks rosy pink and cute from her run and she says, "Did you win?"
I say "No I just..." Then I realize she is not talking about Age of Empires.

{{panic}}

-going to ebay-

Sold, done, ended, about seven minutes before...

Needless to say I did not win the part.

And Monday we also needed to buy a new mouse for the computer.

To facilitate putting the bike, piece by {ahem} piece on EBay...

*sigh*

Easter Weekend, Readers Digest Version

2006-04-18T13:47:00.000-04:00

"Knock, Knock"
"Who’s there?"
“Cheese”
“Cheese who?”
“Knock Knock”
“Who’s there?”
“Glad Phia’s not here for cake!”
Nathaniel’s comments during cheesecake dessert Saturday night, Easter. Aaron was over for some vino and some eats, and the Lang Family premiere of Narnia.

Friday was a good day, had the day off and the sun was shining. Nathaniel and I built a soccer goal out of some scrap wood and played soccer for about 90 minutes. Then Kara and I went to Dave’s place and got to see the new Xbox 360.

Saturday was a good day too, got our Easter shopping done and as mentioned Aaron came over and spent a few hours. The movie Narnia was good, kept the kids interest and the parents’ interest and was a good adaptation of the book.

Sunday started off great with the kids following picture clues from hollow plastic eggs around the house. Upstairs then downstairs, to their chocolates, their soccer ball/ bike helmet, and their new jackets. The kids were so excited following their clues they left their little Easter eggs behind!!!

(The remainder of the day was a blend of sugar-induced rampage and cursing the rain! During which time Nathaniel had his soccer ball, and then lost all soccer ball privileges for a while, after hacking off hunks of Phia’s hair with scissors. To his credit he did admit to it/ brag about it immediately after…

Monday was another trip to the mall day, looking for gels for Kara’s running. The only place on the planet (well planet Fredericton) that had them was Walmart, not GNC, or any running store. Keep in mind we didn’t try the RR, which was across town.

Needless to say no run for me…I’ll have to rectify that this week…if I can in the field all week.

It wasn't an LSD, but...

2006-04-11T08:14:00.000-04:00

...It was a run, a nice 7 km yesterday in about 40-45 minutes, I don't really keep track anymore. Yesterday was an absolutely gorgeous day perfect for a bit of running.

It started with me staying home to look after one nutso kid and one sick kid while Kara went to a job interview. Our childcare fell through because of Phia's illness of the weekend , which is completely understandable.

Got to work for the afternoon though, time to catch up.

One good thing about yesterday morning, afater a little digging on the ol' interweb I found the part I need for my motorcycle on ebay...right now there are 3 days left...it sits and $12 American...I won't lose it this time.

But that is a story for later..

Till next time...

We interupt this weekend...

2006-04-10T14:33:00.000-04:00

It is amazing how a child's illness can completely halt all plans and chnage priorities in a heartbeat.

Well, as you guess where I'm going here- this past weekend was a rough go. Saturday night while enjoying a BBQ at Jsquared the contents of Phia’s stomach decided it liked it better out than in, and the Exorcist Vomiting (copyright Jaimer) began. After watching her situation deteriorate hourly until about 1:30 that night we decided to take her to the ER in Fredericton.

/- Insert reader’s Digest version rant about that status of health care in NB

We arrived at about 2 am, duty nurse attempts to dissuade me from staying saying it will be a “long wait” I say no I’d rather be here with her, she says “a really, really long wait”

At any rate it was a long wait, 2.5 hrs just to get into a little room, while Phia slept, puked, pooped, cried, puked, napped.

But I felt worse for the people who were already there when I got there and were still there when we got called in.

Case in point a young university girl who had fallen and was pretty sure her arm was broken, sat there with a bag of ice that had been on her arm so long that she could have made lukewarm tea in it. She was sleeping in a chair when we left at 6:30.

The funny (and by funny I mean Not-Funny) thing is there were three nurses who sat at the desk and did nothing but drink coffee. They got up and walked back and forth a couple times, and apparently they were “full” but there was only one doctor on…and they aren’t allowed to do anything with out him…

WTF? Unbelievable, unacceptable

End rant -/

Long story short, Phia has a particularly violent case of the pukeys, which will turn to the runny poops. It was scary to see her dehydrated-listless- lifeless, but fortunately she is on the mend, and a spokesgirl for Gatorade!!

Now back to our regularly scheduled programming.

You say 18 I say 19.5.....

2006-04-04T13:42:00.000-04:00

...Sunday marked a milestone in the ol’ training logbook. (James), Jaime and I braved the shrill wind, and cloudy grey (“where da sun go?”) and we did three laps of the alleged 6.5 km blue trail behind the gym here at Gagetown. James is in paratheses because he started the same time as us, but he scampered off into the sunset, like the white rabbit “I’m late, I’m late” and finished well ahead of us slowpokes. It was good to see James out running, as I know being on course has not been conducive to any kind of training or physical fitness.

Let me be a little indulgent and explain a couple things here: the distance completed ranges from 18km by Garmin, to the ‘book’ value of 19.5km. So we’ll call it 18.75 km :). Also this run was conducted as an LSD and took almost exactly 2:00:00. This I (and Jaime) have theorized is good because our respective half marathon goal times are 2:00:00. So we were 2km short and a bit slower than our pace. I could go ad nauseum into the suspected split times and paces but that’s not really the point of the blog, and I don’t wanna break a pencil trying to figure it out ;)

At any rate, I know this was the longest distance I have ever run, and it is the second time I have done this distance. The first time was conducted with Dani, on a whim, outside of any sort of personal training plan, and I felt like a bus had hit me, twice, by run end. As well, Jaime revealed to me that this was her longest training run ever, and far surpassed anything she did previous to the Fredericton Half last year.

Jaime braved the run in shorts, leaving her thighs an alarming red color by run end. Her 10km knee issue did not seem to be too big an issue. I felt very good after the run and it left me with a very comfortable mental feeling that I could complete a half marathon and will be able to uphold my end of the bargain at the CTRR.
So Thanks Andy, thanks Kara, thanks Jaime and James…It’s all working…*knock on wood*

Til next time…

A Large Day

2006-03-31T09:09:00.000-04:00

And I mean that in the most positive way possible. I am not speaking of a “fat” day, or a guilt day. Just leaving the house this morning, without a jacket, with sun shining the whole day seemed large and open before me.

It could be directly attributable to the fact we are on our fourth amazing day in a row, at least morning, and I speak in terms of weather. The suns is bright, greens are starting to look green, reds more reddish. I have really felt like nature has been literally coming back to life. The funny thing is, the winter wasn’t that bad at all. It was mild, and we did have a fair amount of precipitation (rain and snow) but not much to really call over whelming. But there was a real feeling of dreary, of winter. I think this week has kind of been like an old dog getting up and shaking the cobwebs off.

It could be my inevitable reaction to payday, on a Friday. And the fact that Kara and I have plans for the weekend, nothing stringent, restrictive or dire. For that matter nothing overly elaborate or awe inspiring either. Just plans with the kiddos, and with friends.

There is the distinct and definite possibility that the BBQ will be churning and burning most of the weekend, and that our friends will be on hand to share good times with. These moments have started to become bittersweet as we are picking and moving on in few months, as are two of the friends involved in our weekend plans.

My reaction this morning could have been for this morning and sharing the love of my kids, (before the #$%^in sun came up) or the love of my wife who remained lazily in bed, with a grin on her face, long after the sun came up!

Before this blog runs on with me and goes on longer that it should I will come to somewhat of an indulgent and personally profound conclusion.

Today is a large day; there are infinite possibilities in every moment. The is so much possibility for joy and good times for the next bit that it could outweigh everything but the most catastrophic turn of events.

It is a Friday without borders.

An Awesome Tuesday!!!

2006-03-29T09:29:00.000-04:00

Well, I do believe Spring is here, (and yes I have likely jinxed us to one more bad turn of weather) and I consider it official as yesterday marked the first day of barbeque season for the Lang family.

On the weekend, Kara made reference, in passing, to the barbeque. Of course I’ve been following the weather ever since. Yesterday, Tuesday, was an awesome day. It was an awesome day for running and an awesome day for barbecuing.

Both Kara and I got excellent runs in yesterday; I got a quick 6.5km run in at the trails behind the gym, and Kara did her first hill work out just round the block from the house. So what better way to get to suppertime!

Bubba was in the yard the whole time and was initiated on the “BBQ”! After a few tense moments wondering if it would light (we weren’t sure how much propane we had) WHOOSH! We were in business, and Bubba and I both kept our eyebrows.

There were a couple of spiders that dropped out of the barbeque after lighting and Bubba got a big stick and moved them safely to the driveway, where Phia put them out of there misery…we’ll have to work on compassion…

At any rate a short time later we enjoyed an amazing supper of grilled pork chops, with Bullseye BBq sauce, grilled sweet potato and zucchini, and sautéed mushrooms and onions….

Great recovery food!!

Nathaniel is hoping for nice weather Sunday, and so am I, BBQ’d Pancakes here we come…!!!! YUMMY!

Happy barbecuing all!!

Til Next Time.

Why I didn't do my LSD on Sunday.

2006-03-28T09:48:00.000-04:00

Sadly, the following statement is true. It is the account of a man, whose ego has been not just bruised, but taken outside the local pub and given a “severe talking to” by the local hoodlums.

When we first moved to Oromocto we bought Nathaniel a Safety First tricycle, it was blue and yellow. They were neutral enough colors that we hoped Sophia would not become offended when it was handed down to her. It had nice big rubber tires and a no slip patch on the axle. Our PMQ is designed in such a way that there is a doorway from the kitchen to living room and both connect to the dining room. Thus creating a great racetrack in the house for Nathaniel to practice on. And practice he did, he got so good that last year Kara and I bought Nathaniel a small bike; it is black and red, with cool training wheels. It became his most prized possession. He would put on his glossy black helmet, and his Harley Davidson ™ leather jacket and ride relentlessly up and down the sidewalk in front of our house. He was like a gang member cruising his turf, back and forth, back and forth. He would be out there rain or shine and was noticed two weeks in a row by a photographer from the local paper, who snapped his picture and lo and behold he ended up in the newspaper.

Since last summer we have experimented a couple of times with taking his training wheels of and he rode/fell around the basement with reckless abandon. The experiment was short lived once we went outside, as there was no furniture to hang onto on the sidewalk. At any rate Nathaniel knows spring has sprung and he has been racing lap after lap in the basement, getting his form some would say.

I told you that to tell you this.

The date was 26 March 2006, a Sunday. It started as a normal day, like most other Sunday’s (with ice cream and nuts, oh wrong Sundae). It started with pancakes and coffee, and some nice family time. Kara put the finishing coat of paint on what used to be a dreary brown vanity that is now a Debbie Travis Creamy White buffet. And I was preparing to run 13km later that afternoon.

For the sake of brevity I ask you to accept the normalcy of the Sunday, and we’ll fast forward to the afternoon, when I again prove how big an idiot I can be. Nathaniel and I were watching the Nextel Cup Nascar Race from Bristol Tennessee on Fox. (Can I hear groaning already?) Nathaniel started doing the figure eight track around and around the basement. Off the carpet round the pole, on the carpet, around the couch. Off the carpet round the pole, on the carpet, around the couch. Off the carpet round the pole, on the carpet, around the couch.

The race went to a commercial so I got up and started chasing him around, and then I spotted it. The ironically named Safety First Tricycle. I stepped on the back grabbed the handlebars and gave a test push across the carpet, “YES, we’re in business now!!” Now, whenever Nathaniel wants to ride his bike in the basement he needs two things: his helmet, and sneakers. Why dad felt he could ignore this rule, I’ll never know. The first fourteen laps or so were eventless, a lot of giggling, yelling, bantering. And we had the figure eight track down, we were perfectly choreographed, barely missing one another, and in retrospect there was no warning, not even a hint that something could go wrong. Of course one could point out that there is something hinting at, no SCREAMING that there is something categorically wrong with a grown man racing around his basement at break neck speed on a kids Safety First Tricycle…in sock feet.

Lap 15.

Dad comes past the cat litter too fast and too aggressively into the right hand hairpin turn around the pole. There was a bizarre and surreal moment when the tricycle was sliding on one wheel, the right rear wheel, when I could hear the Nextel Cup announcer saying matter-of-factly, “Looks like the dad has gotten loose in turn three” I thought everything was going to be okay. Then my sock foot slipped on the no slip foot spot and my momentum (and weight) shot through to opening at the rear of the tricycle and kept going until the left pedal caught my ankle abruptly.

There was a delicious slap as my 185 pounds hit the bare grey concrete floor. I looked across my stunned body to see my right leg painfully tied into a pretzel in the tricycle.
Nathaniel is a smart boy; this time there was no laughing when dad fell. He rolled up in his helmet and sneakers, and applied the brakes on his bike correctly then looked down at one half of his genetic donation (scornfully?) and said “Ow dad, that hurt?” I groaned “Ima go get mum.” And he tears off up the stairs.

I don’t need to go on. I haven’t run since, I’m still limping a bit. Kara has been challenging me as to how I am going to explain my old man limp to every one. I told her I’d be direct, to the point, and lie. But this was too good a story, even at my own expense, to pass up. I’ll probably run today. Maybe not 13km, and maybe not fast…

A Little Advice

2006-03-28T09:03:00.000-04:00

I recently had a close friend of mine, a displaced (or misplaced) Newf http://fieldbehindtheplow.blogspot.com (shameless plug)
write me an email fearing he had taken steps that would have been catastrophic to his male psyche. He had out of the goodness of his heart offered to vacuum, and clean…yes, I can feel all the males shuddering…Fortunately, I was able to intervene and send him the following email which should rectify the entire situation.

"I think you may have taken your first step down the path of irreversible domestication my friend. I have the following 4-step program to help you break the habit.

1- Stop at a bar on your way home from work, get pie-eyed
2- Leave bar got to liquor store, max out credit card
3- Come home, leave your shoes on and walk to the TV (stop at bathroom if necessary) turn on picture in picture sports channels.
4- Say things like "Hey you make me a sandwich," or "get me another beer," or "go wash my car...inside and out"
5- repeat as required.

Of course if this proves to be unsuccessful, use the following action in case of emergency.

1- Stop at Wal-Mart on your way home from work, get seashells for the back of toilet, and some flowers, for her, not the toilet.
2- Leave Wal-Mart go to jewelry store, max out credit card
3- Come home, take your shoes off, walk to the kitchen (stop at bathroom and put seashells on toilet) turn on front burner and back burner of stove as you prepare the latest gourmet fiesta you saw on Martha Stewart reruns instead of sports (The glazed lemon chicken is great…it worked for me)
4- Say things like "Hey baby, let me make you a sandwich" or "let me get you another glass of wine" or let me run a bath for you, and give you a pedicure after"
5- repeat everyday, for the rest of your life."

Well I never claimed to be Dear Abby, but in a totally unrelated note; I heard the memorial service will be early next week, and there will be no viewing. I guess he didn't read the "IN CASE OF EMERGENCY!" fast enough. Oops.

The Running...

2006-03-22T18:34:00.000-04:00

This past Sunday was a good day for running. I had hydrated the night before and actually planned on doing the 15km run.
Don't let me mislead you, dear reader, I did do the run. But what was unique is I normally approach my Long Run on Sunday's with out approaching it. What I mean is: I book the time, make sure the family is in the loop, and wait patiently until I am three- four kilometres into the run before yelling "SURPRISE!!" and acknowledging the fact that, "Yes, I am doing a long run," and "No, I did not prepare for this." Which is the truth because personal mental subversion is not akin to actual preparation. This past Sunday I prepared to meet my running partners J2 complete with water bottle and snack.

The run itself was refreshing and fun, as refreshing and fun as the Lincoln Road can be. James set off at his blistering slow pace and Jaime and I followed, conversing about everything but the plight of 21st Century humankind. It was a good run.

I have run since a slow recovery 6km and plan on 8km tomorrow (Thursday). I am building confidence heading towards my first Half Marathon, the Fredericton Half, about 50 days away!!! I am a firm believer in establishing confidence and skills, and developing a plan is a key aspect of that. With HCD's help I have a strong plan that has brought me this far, and he has done the same for Kara.

This upcoiming Half marathon and tag along Cabot Trail Relay (CTRR) were to be the gateway to my running season, my first running season. However, the best laid plans of mice and men, (tell me about the rabbits...) Details are coming in as to my professional future... but that is another blog for another time....

Til next time...

TGIF

2006-03-17T20:13:00.000-04:00

Hello reader,

Sometimes its just good when Friday comes along, y'ah know?

I had my first go at speedwork this week. I thought of adding them back at the beginning of my training plan (January) but took them out so I could concentrate on building my base. After the success of 11 March I decided to toss them into my weekly routine in order to build up a little for the Fredericton Half.
I developed my speedwork timings according to the FIRST HM program in one of the recent Runners Worlds. I based my timing and calculations on a 2:04:53 Goal Time, Though in reality I am hoping to break 2:00:00. What my calcualtions determined...

Pace (based on 9:32 HMP: 2:04:53 Goal Time)
Speed
400m = 2:01
800m = 4:08
1600 = 8:53
Tempo ->9:02 / mile
Long->10:02 / mile

So I did 4x800m. The first thing I must say is as a military guy I am lucky that I get full access to the gym for free, and we are expected to utilize the facilities to the maximum. This is great, except for week day mornings when every one on base tries to do PT at the same bloody time. There was literally 100 people trying to use the 200m indoor track!!!

Anyway I did the first 800 m way too fast...and it got better from there.

Friday saw a great tread mill 6.5km

But Kara has just arrived to remind me it is Friday with,

"Do you want a Pina Colada?"

"Sure"

"Okay get of the damn computer and help me open my coconut"

"......?"

"Yeah I have the dremel out"

"!!"

Til next time...

Who Knows?

2006-03-13T19:36:00.000-04:00

Who knows what could happen.

Do what you do, just keep on laughing

One thing's true, there's always a brand new day

Avril Levigne “Who Knows?” Under My Skin 2004

It’s odd what inspiration can strike you and when, or what can strike you as profound. Music always seems to hit me, get me, slap me, inspire me. Normally I listen to whatever music is popular, though I do remain faithful to bands and singers that have always impressed me.
I have always had a thing for female singers. Especially ones who can be vulnerable and strong at the same time. Sarah Brightman is a classic example I always use, and probably ranks as the most adored female singer in my world anyway. I think the woman could yodel the ingredients in Preparation H and I’d be happy… but I digress.

Today I was hanging out with the kiddos, playing a silly game on msn, and as per normal I had music filling the void behind the game. I’ve been in a Avril Levigne mood for most of the day, I think I had heard a snippet of a song yesterday and it festered in my brain like a piece of popcorn between my teeth.
At any rate “Who Knows?” started and I found the lyrics particularly poignant. And I told Nathaniel, where he’s almost old enough to get it, to remember tomorrow is a brand new day. He said, “I know dad, tomorrow we live in Moncton, and I go to school.” I smiled, and replied, “Yes buddy it is. As long as you tell time with a calendar.” He looked at me like I had a toaster on my head….

The song has new meaning to me now, so if you get a chance listen to it, study the lyrics, and enjoy.

That’s all, not much a blog. But no matter where you go there you are.

Til Next time…

I thought my heart would burst.

2006-03-11T16:10:00.001-04:00

As a side note, and by no means a lesser sidenote, I want of make quick mention of Kara's performance today.

If anyone told me a year a go that Kara would ever run 10k I would have laughed at them, I am not trying to be mean, and I know Kara would agree with me.

But in August she got off the couch and started chugging. In October she ran her first real event at the Run for the Cure. She did 5k in just over 35 minutes. To snobbish elite that is a time to be scorned, for Couch Potatoe royalty it is a time to be marvelled.

So, with the lead up to today Kara had completed several runs in and around 10 km, topping out I believe at 13km. She approached these as LSD's and her best time previous for 10k was around 1:20.

Also leading up to today's events Kara went through some jitters, wondering if she prepared enough, wondering if she would have the mental fortitude to complete a 10km race, (no matter how sparse)

But let me just say, Kara ran the whole event, and when I saw her come over the hill as I went back to see her, my heart leapt. Her she came still chugging, smile on her face, grooving to her music.

She picked up her pace and finished strong.

I was so proud i though my heart would burst.

Good job, baby!!!

Solitude and The Age of Disappointment

2006-03-11T16:10:00.000-04:00

Let me begin by saying: I do not want to insult or offend any one over the age of thirty who reads this. Now you’ve all said, “oh…great”

I turned thirty not that long ago, and I wondered if the Age of Disappointment had come.
By Age of Disappointment I do not mean a catastrophic ‘end of an era’ that meant my life was going to be one big plummeting spiral to the toilet from this point on, but more of a quiet realization that my “potential energy” was losing steam.
What I mean: when I was younger I had hopes and dreams of athletic success, and I truly mean unrealistic multimillion-dollar career dreams. There were also dreams of moviemaking, acting or directing my way to winning Oscar’s, or doing the talk show circuit, etc etc.
And recently after a conversation with Kara had realized I had had similar dreams of writing success, Stephen King-like success.
But though people have enjoyed what I have read, I believe I have always lacked the disciple and ability to polish whatever talents I possessed.

When I took up running for fun in August, in effort to share the wave of Kara’s enthusiasm, I had begun to have similar ideas. Though I enjoyed the running and saw great progress in consistent and coherent training I wondered if my prime had already passed and that I had given the potential of my twenties over to challenging Alexander Keith and Ronald MacDonald.

So in recent months I set goals of the Cabot Trail Relay Race and the Fredericton Half Marathon. As a side note James and Jaime got me into the possibility of doing the Fredericton Half in 2005. I started training with them, with nary a clue as to what I was really doing, and not only did I become intimidated by two athletic, and skinny people (they will challenge me on this but they are far closer to if not bang on their ideal weight than I!) but I also went and had a Vasectomy. Talk about the catastrophic end of an era…though it is a story for another time…
Needless to say, my “training” took a “hiatus”. But I digress.

I have approached the upcoming “Race Season” more adequately called “Event Season” with vigor and intelligence. I have seen steady improvement that has kept me going. So today March 11 2006 I have hit close the halfway point in my training plan and a RR March Break Away 5K and 10k fell perfectly on today. Not only was this a perfect opportunity for the four of us to run together, for us to challenge our selves, but also raise a few dollars for the Rotary Club.

The past week had seen near perfect weather, for March anyway. It was warm, sunny, and the wind was not playing too much havoc. So when the slushy crap landed on Thursday we feared the worst. But the weather cooperated, and this morning the weather was warmish, the ground was close to dry, and the wind was howling like a gale force storm. If we had been boats…

As we arrived at “the potatoe place” there was confusion, searching for the registration van, and more importantly looking for the pee place.
The set up was sparse, with only a small clot of cold impatient runners. No fanfare, no freebies (except safety pins), not water tables…We just got our bibs, a little warm-up, a couple words and then…go.

Now that I have spent so much time on build up, here comes the kicker. I don’t remember much of the race.

I remember saying over and over to myself, “Set your pace, run your race”
I remember the kilometer marking on the ground in blue chalk. And they seemed to come quicker than I expected.
I remember the wall of wind that hit me after the third turn, especially on the second lap. And then upon reflection, I realized that we ran almost 2/3s of the race into the wind.
I remember trying to catch the “damn woman in the blue jacket” who remained frustratingly 200-300m ahead of me.
I remembered thinking of Kara, and wondered how she was doing.

I spent almost the race alone. There was a bit of shuffling at the beginning, but because of the small numbers we all found our niche and ran in it. The biggest thing I remember besides my result is the realization that running is a truly solitary sport. I had no gadgets, no watch, nor MP3 player.
Just the sounds of the race, the wind, my feet, the traffic, the cursed wind.

There is absolute truth in running. If you do it with out distraction you can come face to face with yourself.

It all went quick, and my results surprised me. Given the wind, given, the fact I spent most of my work this winter on a treadmill with out hills, or yes hah-ha no wind.

It was to be a day of personal bests.

10km 53:38.

Given all that I have said, Screw thirty; I think the age of disappointment can wait. I am so happy, so content, and so proud. It was just a good day.

Prerace

2006-03-11T00:24:00.000-04:00

Well, it's just after midnight. Nine hours-ish til race time. We just got back from Jx2, they laid out a wonderful carb loading spaghetti super complete with a decadent carrot cake for desert...

No real jitters, wondering how it feels to do 10k not at a forced event.

We'll see.

I'll let youz all know.

Links

2006-03-10T14:50:00.000-04:00

Dear Reader,

Just a quick explantion of my links.

The first one is the normal Blogger link so yu can get your own.

The Yin-Yang crouching tiger, hidden dragon style is a link to a online version of the Tao te Ching, a resource of sorts that I find a lot of wisdom in on a daily basis.

The Running man in Circle is the logo for RunningMania, a great (predominantly Canadian) website that offers a lot of open discussion about running, training, eating, multisporting, and Manties...

The "Sheva" link is to the website of a friend of ours, Sheva Solomon. She is embarking on what will be a very successful career in music. Kara and I met and worked with her at Upper Clements Park and we shared the "honor and priveldge" of being on the entertainment staff. Also, worth noting that Sheva sang at our wedding back in the day...along with Stephane Desraspe, also from UCP and key element to...

Shaydid, my last link for now. They are a band out of NS that are also starting to take off. They have toured the maritimes and Ontario a lot and are bound for bigger things.

That's all for now.

Til Next Time,

Raven-

2006-03-10T14:47:00.000-04:00

Our young little Black Lab. And right now the unfortunate victim of my/ our inconsistency.
I thought that things had been going great. Raven has started behaviors that were acceptable. Responding to Kara and me when called, and even Bubba too. She has been learning to sit, and learning to stay. These are things that we (and Raven) have started by accident, rather than by design. And, I don’t foresee to many leash problems once we (I) work out a regular walking schedule for us.

But there have still been some issues that I guess I need to address; as my ears are still ringing from the twenty-minute wakeup call Kara gave me. Raven is still chewing too much, and chewing the wrong things, not the least of which is Kara’s favorite undergarments, kids toys, and some other unmentionables. There has also been the issue of Raven still using the bathroom inside the house. This happens a lot less than before, but still way too often. What I have learned is that it takes a lot more diligence and surveillance on our (my) behalf.

So today, hopefully we can trun over a new leaf for Raven before things get outta control. I’ve looked into a bunch of great websites and maybe I’ll list them later, but as a basic start her is a decent one with twelve great tips for dog training.

http://www.inch.com/~dogs/twelvetips.html also
http://www.perfectpaws.com

Til next time,

The End of an Era...

2006-03-10T13:43:00.000-04:00

..and I can’t say that I am sad to see it go.

“TORONTO -- The Canadian Tire couple is no more. When the retailer unveiled its new spring ad campaign yesterday, the bearded handyman Ted and his wife Gloria were nowhere to be seen. The famous pitch-couple had been showing off innovative products for the hardware chain for almost a decade. Canadian Tire said the couple's "demo-mercials" were effective, but research showed they were starting to wear on consumers.”

I know it’s petty, and foolish. But “Ted” always drove me nuts…no pun intended. He always had the perfect tool for even the most obscure problems and always seemed to arrive like a super smug superhero.
And as Kara has said in the past, “is it really camping when you take a TV, a DVD player, a lamp, a laptop, an Xbox, and powertools when you’re camping in the great outdoors just because you brought an Eliminator ™?” To me the Eliminator is what is used to power your laptop to play solitaire when in the field pulling night duty in the CP when its miserable out.

I really loved the commercial about the tires when “Naïve Guy” slides through intersections on bald tires. And good old Ted looks at him and thinks, “Ha, that bastard is going to die in a fiery ball of flaming winter death, but not me- I bought these great tires from Canadian Tire”

Well, we’ll see what is on next for Ted and Gloria, maybe some speaking parts on Corner Gas or something of the like. I wonder if their severance pay will be in Canadian Tire Money?

Til next time,

Karma

2006-03-08T18:44:00.002-04:00

Dear Reader,

This one is not so old, less than a year. More parental genuis.

Til next time.

Somehow I think Karma (not Kara!) is a cruel, cruel entity.

My kids love to dance. They have favourite songs, Hollaback Girl gets Phia’s booty shakin’, but anything with a half-assed dancy beat will get them up jumpin’, groovin’, stylin’, and profilin’. They particularly like to dance and act a fool when Daddy is up doing the same. It’s fun, it’s a work out, and always leads to great memories. That hopefully they’ll remember when they hit 12-13 and think Dad is an asshole.

October 2005 in general had been a below average month. But that is relative to the preceding months, I was away for the majority of it and though the tasking that I was involved in went perfect it was not without hardship, strife, and indigestion. As a result as well, Kara was home alone with the kids after just having me home for ten days. This brought out the worst in the kids; unsure as to when the stranger they knew as daddy was going to be home for good. To cap off October there were financial issues, social issues etc. etc that just added to a below average month. The crap out weighed the golden moments.
November 2005 therefore had oodles of potential. It started as well as it could if you consider the pace of work for myself, the kids had leveled off, and so had laundry requirements. Kara and I had the opportunity to spend some quality time and find our inner resolve again about money, friends, and family. The kind of inner peace only available when two people truly connect and are back on the same page.
After a week back to work to tidy up loose ends, send some troops on other taskings (that I was luckily able to avoid) I had a week home with the kids. Kara was going off to BC as part a contingent from the Military Family Resource Centre (MFRC, or FarCee to the munchkins). It started as a stressful occasion given the cost, but still a golden opportunity and chance of a lifetime for a small-town East coast girl. And it was Kara’s first real break from the kiddos, in, well- ever.
This was great opportunity for me, as Dad, as well to reconnect with my kids since I had been away a fair amount. And if you take out the fact that the kids would absolutely not sleep beyond 6:15 in the morning things were a dream.

Now as many know, this year in August Kara took up running, out of the blue. It lasted more than three or four days. In fact we are heading into month four. Unprecedented success for the self proclaimed couch potato royalty! Kara had been using events to act as training goals and motivating factors to keep her going during her “questionable motivation” times. But she also wanted a running CD, a compilation of songs and tracks that would get her ass a-boogeyin’ down the road. I had been saying “yup, I’ll get to it…” for a while. Well, being ultra husband balancing children in one hand and my nice-guyness in the other I sat down one evening and started tracking down songs from previous compilations and off the net.
Now I don’t watch a lot of TV, but one thing I like and have over a sports package on my digital cable is the music stations. I love all kinds of music and paid a little extra to get as many music videos as possible. One station is BPMTV, playing a ton of Electronica, House, Trance, Dance, and every possible variable thereof. One song really caught my attention: Traffic by DJ Tiesto. So I was a little selfish when I started searching and found as many DJ Tiesto songs I could. Despite my selfishness Kara’s CD filled quickly though for irony I stopped at 26 songs…
All this background led to the climax of our story.

It was Wednesday afternoon. Kara was about 36 hours from her return. Sophia had just woke up from her nap, Nathaniel had been watching me play online poker. While playing, Nathaniel had been grooving to DJ Tiesto in the background. Then a track I only know as Southern Sun a DJ Tiesto remix came on. It immediately caught Sophia’s interest, so I cranked up the volume turning or computer room in to a rave hall. I folded my hand of online poker and jumped up with the kids, it was an instant hit.
Nathaniel has taken to attempting “dance moves” involving jumping, spinning and occasionally punching himself in the face, and then saying “Daddy try this!” Well, dad starts trying to get the kids to try things, pretty soon the little room looks like an 80’s aerobics class, sort of Eric Pryde’s Call on Me…without the sex appeal. So we’re all doing knees lifts and lunges, and throwing our arms in the air. The jumping and air punching is reaching a frenetic pace, building with the music. Then Sophia stumbled.

I remember turning my body in the air, transfixed on not crushing Sophia and her bobbing ponytail. I never saw Nathaniel’s rising fist.

I heard a comedian describe it once as there is a bundle of nerves about as big around as a large fist connected to the testicles. And when struck, the pulse travels up the spinal cord and exploding like a tremendous Fourth of July fireworks display in the brain.

My feet never touched the ground; I used my back to break my fall.

Sophia and Nathaniel thought this was the next dance move and proceeded to jump up and land awkwardly on the floor. They found this move to be unfulfilling, and as the song ended they left the room and went to play Lego.

I lost about $500 in unplayed hands of online poker.

I hate DJ Tiesto.

But to get back to my point, this should of happened in October, that month sucked. But maybe it was karma getting back at me for downloading a whole bunch of running songs for Kara as a nice thing to do, on top of the laundry and cleaning.

Hmm, maybe it’s Kara’s fault.

Sincerely, with Ice Pack,

Scotty H.

Genetic Experiment Update

2006-03-08T18:44:00.001-04:00

Dear Reader:

This is a piece that is close to two years old, to the best of my knowledge. and is just an insight into my parental genius...

Til next time.

PROJECT LANG: GENETIC PROGENY EXPERIMENT
UPDATE:
Thesis: Silence is Golden.
Report Originator: Lang Unit Male Parent (LUMP) 1.uh-oh (Father/Daddy/Scott)

As most know I, LUMP, recently took several months worth of parental leave. Now, even though I am a male and do possess a certain amount of the stereotypical deficiencies in the “gotta clue” department, I have developed a sixth sense towards my children and there are instances where instinct takes over and alarm bells sound.
Take for example a recent incident within the confines of the Lang Family Dwelling. Lang Unit Female Parent/Dictator (LUFPD) *I have been told to inform you that the opinions expressed with said document are not necessarily the opinion of the DICTATOR herself, and I may pay dearly for such ..........*-to continue, LUFPD was away at work on 280204, a Sunday, and LUMP, moi, was home as the sole target of the Genetic Experiments (BOY/GIRL). A fairly routine laboratory situation in recent months.
To set the stage, The Lion King, wuddya want me to do dress in drag and do the hula....? (Rhetorical I have already paid my debt to society for this and my records have been expunged) was on the television for approximately the 30th time that day. LUMP was checking the email, Genetic Experiment Girl (PHIA) was standing next to the couch ( yes a fantastic developmental achievement, for those of you not required to watch her pull the freshly laundered and folded clothes off said couch and onto the floor). Suddenly PHIA got the game face, a metaphor for her face turning purple as she pushes out a strained carrot surprise into her diaper. So in order to avoid the spreading of the biotoxic hazard LUMP quickly evaluated the situation and felt he was able to continue without outside intervention or a frantic call to the dictator. It was during this time of silence, absolute silence when two of the three inhabitants were accounted for that I realized it is quiet, too quiet.
So there we were PHIA happy and exuberant with a dry new waste catcher round her bottom and the Father Unit with his heart in his throat and an anvil in his upper colon wondering where in the name of Jesus his Genetic Experiment Boy (BUBBA) was. Thus, the mad dash was on. Up the stairs, in a flash, nope not in the bathroom remodelling with toilet paper and shampoo, (good). Not in any of the bedrooms remodelling with the dictators lipsticks or underwear drawer (good) yet not so good. BUBBA was not on the top floor of the dwelling. It is at this time that the shouting begins along with the frantic searching. So LUMP races down two flights of stairs into the basement for BUBBA has a fascination with mixing the felines cat litter with their food, the felines show adequate disgust at this transaction. (there are two feline- like inhabitants, DICTATOR has names for them, LUMP refers to them as orangey one with thigh peeling claws and the whitish brown one with the F%$# Off stare and sociopathic tendencies) But once in the basement there is nothing, except a mess so huge only the Liberals would be able to comprehend it. ( make no mistake this mess is a result of the organizational habits of the Parental Units). A quick thought flashes into my mind...I don’t think he can open the door to the outside world...
So I rush once again up the stairs, that is when an all too familiar scent assaults my nose, my pace slows as the anvil in my stomach drops further....as I reach the top of the stairs in the full grip of the panic consuming me as I know what it is I am going to find. I see one little foot sticking out of the pantry cupboard, it is a BUBBA foot. I pull the door open and there he is covered in brown. It is all over his pants, his shirt, his arms, the door, the shelf, and there is a plop of it on his forehead. And sitting between his legs is the open container of peanut butter...

AFTER ACTION REVIEW

BUBBA was counselled with a scolding, a bath, a peanut butter sandwich and a nap
PHIA was rewarded with a golden opportunity to pull the remainder of the clothes off the couch
FELINES where rewarded with a few stolen licks of peanut butter and a 2 hour stay in the basement for stolen licks of peanut butter.
LUMP was rewarded with an antacid, two rolls of paper towel, two hours refolding clothes, and a cat scratch.
Dictator was rewarded with a bloody nice relaxing day at work and a funny little parenting anecdote from husband.

Welcome

2006-03-08T18:44:00.000-04:00

Greetings,

I've been debating and humming and hawing about how, when, and what to Blog. The focus started with a running Blog. But how much can I say other than, I run, I sweat, I cry? I've also had comments that I should have a spot where I can dump my miscellaneous writings. Stuff about life in the Lang Family, stuff from work, etc.. So, I figured hey, I'll put all that stuff together under one roof.

Needless to say, the first few things that are on here have varied dates, though they'll all show up today. if I can remember, or better yet, if it matters I will let you know the when, where, and why of writing.

I will also log some of my more memorable runs too, memorable good and memorable bad.

And I am always open to constructive criticism, and praise.

Til next time,

Scotty.