Notes of Encouragement

Yowza! What a week! And it's only Wednesday! And why am I using so many exclamation points?!?!?

Maybe 'cause I'm tired?

Maybe 'cause I'm stressed?

Maybe 'cause they look so cool?

Well, I am tired...and stressed. It's been a challenging week. The auto industry is causing so much pain, the Pavilions project has gone south, and the economic forecasters predict Oakland County losing another 25,000 jobs this year.

But, I think I'm using the exclamation points because they look cool.

That, and I leave tomorrow for Florida. So, technically today is kinda like my Friday!!!

More exclamation points.

I now am starting to get nervous about the race. Do you ever get those feelings that creep in right before a big moment? You know the ones, where you start feeling anxious, and wonder if maybe, perhaps, you don't have it in you? Yeah, the same feelings that we're told not to worry about?

Yep. I got 'em.

So, I've been trying to get them out of my mind. I tried by looking over my training schedule to prove to myself that I've done all I can to prepare for Saturday.

Didn't work.

Maybe I can focus more time and attention on my kids. That worked. For a while.

But the feelings came back.

Then, like rain falling on a parched earth, they started to arrive.

"They," you ask? Your notes. Notes of encouragement. E-mails of support. Calls from well-wishers. Friends slapping me on the back as I walk past.

I've soaked up every one of them. They mean more to me than you know. Having friends like you supporting me means so much. You all will be with me as I start and as I cross the finish line!

Exclamation Point!!!

Believe In Fred

A few weeks ago, I started my quest for my catch phrase.

Thanks to those that shared their ideas. While I appreciate the "beached whale" and "stuffed sausage" references, I think I'll pass.

To prepare myself, I started digging through my iPod song list, favorite movies, books that I like, and past posts. I found a nugget of an idea: from the wrap up letter following Nation's Triathlon.

I don't know if you remember: after the race, my teammates and I went out for a few soda pops. As we walked in to the bar, the speakers are blaring Journey's "Don't Stop Believing."

"That's it!," I said to myself as I read the letter. It still is a poignant reminder of why we are doing this, isn't it?

"Sure," I say to myself, as the doubt creeps in. "But you can't fall back on an old message. This time is about more than that first experience. Isn't it?"

That's when my mind starts wandering. If you don't know me very well...my mind wanders...a lot. I like to think of it as creative moments. My family thinks I have adult onset Attention Deficit Disorder.

Suddenly, other songs fill my head. Songs from my youth. Songs like "Crazy Train" and "Enter Sandman" and "Psycho Killer." Can I find something there?

Like: "Help get me off this crazy train"? or use some play on words with "sand" and "sandman"? Maybe bring in the "beached whale" reference, stuck on the sand?

I gave up on "Psycho Killer."

But the sights and sounds of my youth seemed to fill my head. Is there something there?

Then I started thinking of Eric. When he was diagnosed, the second time. And his nickname, Fred, that he earned after he drove the family car into the garage. Not, in to the garage. Into the garage.

His younger brother, after hearing the news, said, "Eric, you can be a real Fred sometimes." I've shared notes from AJ from time to time. So I think you know his sense of humor.

The name didn't stick then. No, the name didn't stick for some time. It didn't take hold until after Eric's dad returned from a trip to New York.

You see, Eric's dad picked up a newspaper while he was in NYC. And the editorial in the paper that day was titled: I used to believe in Santa Claus, now I believe in FRED.

The name stuck. He's been Fred, at least to his close friends, ever since.

"Wait a minute!" My mind is going crazy!!! I've got it!

I've got my catch phrase, thanks to Fred!

Eric is an important motivating force in why I am doing this. He led the way for me to meet so many people on my last journey, and hear their stories. Those stories are what encouraged me to take on this journey. Eric, to this day, continues to be a positive force, as he continues his recovery. I believe that together we are all making a difference. A positive difference.

"So, what is the catch phrase," you ask?

BELIEVE IN FRED.

Milk, Cheese and Beer...er, what's that smell?

What a glorious weekend. You really couldn't ask for better weather. Well, okay, I guess you could ask for a better Sunday...but Friday and Saturday were unbeatable.

Suffice it to say, I got out for a long bike and run. As you know, I took a few weeks off (well, pretty much off) while visiting my parents in Florida.

So, on a whim, I took off a little early on Friday to get in a good brick. Note to self: don't go out on a whim to complete a brick.

"Why? What happened," you ask?

Well, ummm, *ahem*, errr. Let's just say it's not a good thing to go 3 hours without nutrition. Or, it turns out, a spare tire.

I decided to ride the Clinton River Trail to the Macomb Orchard Trail. That was my first mistake.

See, the Clinton River Trail is built out of limestone. I've ridden it before. But never this early in the season. And the limestone rutted over the winter. It was, to be polite, bumpy.

Thankfully the Macomb Orchard Trail is paved with asphalt and, for the most part, well maintained. I was so happy to get the first 4 miles behind me.

"But, wait a minute," I say to myself. "I'm a little thirsty." I reach down to grab a water bottle...no water bottle.

Ooops...I kinda forgot to bring a water bottle. I kinda overlooked that when heading out on a whim, didn't I? What else did I forget? Oh, I don't know, maybe some fuel? How about my saddle pack?

About a half an hour in to the ride, I spied a 7-11. Oh, thank heaven for 7-11. (That sounds familiar). They really don't have what I need, but I pick up a few things that should get me through. Should being the operative term (I'll come back to that).

The ride continues on past the 32 Mile bridge. It really is beautiful out there.

On the way back, with about 6 miles left on the Macomb Orchard Trail, I notice that my rear tire is feeling a little soft. I was a little worried that I might have damaged the tube while riding on the washboard on the Clinton. It looks like maybe my worries were well founded.

But, at least at this point, it feels like I should be able to get through these 6 miles, and the 4 miles on the Clinton.

I got through the 6 miles.

I got through 1 mile on the Clinton before the tire was toast. Did I mention that I forgot my saddle pack? You know, the pack that holds my spare tubes? Yeah. That.

I have a hand pump mounted to the side of my bike. So, at least I was able to limp through that last three miles, pretty much stopping each mile to fill the tire again. But it was a pain, literally and figuratively.

After wrestling through the last 3 miles, I loaded my bike into the car, grabbed my shoes, and started out for a run.

The first 4 miles went well. But then I started to cramp up. I first felt it in my right hamstring. Then my left. Then my calf muscles.

"What's going on," I asked myself. "I couldn't have lost this much ground in two weeks, could I?" I mean, two years ago, I remember being saddled with a tightened achilles tendon that stopped me from fully running for longer than 2 weeks. And I was able to return to the run with, really, no real loss in ground.

So, what could it..."Oh, snap!...wait a minute..." That's right! 7-11 only had Gatorade. And Gatorade doesn't cut it for what I'm doing today.

I squeeze out another 2 miles back to the car. I drive home. Walk in to the house. Grab a glass of milk. Some cheese. And a beer.

I know it sounds like an odd combination. And, yes it is an odd combination. But it's exactly what I need to get some quick calories and protein/carbs in to my cramping body.

I fall on the floor next to the baby. She sidles up next to me. Pulls off my glasses. Climbs on to my chest. And smiles.

It was a precious moment, until I realized that what I was smelling wasn't coming from me! And I just had milk, cheese and beer!

I'm Back, Now Get to Work!

Do you prefer:
Swaying palm fronds...soft white sand...sounds of waves lapping against the shore,
OR
Blowing winds...soft white snow...sounds of salt falling from the back of big orange trucks?

Yeah, me too. I'm sorry that I missed out on the snow fall...and suffered through the heat of Fort Myers Beach. Do you believe me?

Well you shouldn't.

It was a glorious two weeks away from the office. I don't recall ever taking a two week vacation. I will definitely remember this one.

My batteries are recharged. Which I'll definitely need in the coming weeks.

I also need to make up the ground I lost from my training routine. I swam only one time while I was away. Same thing with the bike. Thankfully, I was able to get a couple of runs in.

But that's not enough. Not for this length of a race.

I have 3 weeks to get to where I want to be. But I'll get there. Promise.

Sorry for the short note this week. But if I want to keep my promise, I got to get off-line and get some time in tonight!

Heat Wave

Oh the weather outside is frightful
But the fire is so delightful
And since we've no place to go
Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow!
-Sammy Cahn

Snow?!? Really?!? I know it's still March, and this is Michigan. So I guess I should expect it. But the weather was showing signs of warming up. Heck, the frost laws have been removed from the roads. So, how can it be???

I'll tell you, in my wildest dreams I didn't expect this! But it sure makes me feel good that I'm leaving this frozen tundra for a little R and R.

I am heading south to visit my parents, and to make a pilgrimage to the Land of Walt. I have four kids...any trip to Florida BETTER include a stop to see the Wonderful World of Disney.

It's a great time, when thinking about the weather. I'll leave behind SNOW, and replace it with SUN. I'll leave behind layers of clothes, to lathers of sunscreen. And with the stresses at work recently, I get to leave behind piles of paperwork for miles of beaches.

It's a terrible time, when thinking about the race. With just over 4 weeks before the race, this is when I need to put most of my energy in to training. I've been working on developing a base to this point. Now is when I need to buckle down.

I just need to be creative, I guess. Getting in the running won't be an issue. The bike and the swim will need a little help. Thankfully, my Dad has arranged a visitor pass to his health club. That'll help. And, I'll just have to see what resources I can tap at Disney. There has to be something...right?

No matter. I'll make it work. You've invested too much in to me to get this far. I'm not going to let you down. Nor am I going to let myself down. I especially won't let the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society down. You've already guaranteed that!

Burn the Ships

I hate to admit it, but I don't really like basketball.

There's something about the game that frustrates the *hades* out of me. Maybe it's how the last 2 minutes of the game drag out 30 minutes by fouls. Maybe it's the flagrant traveling that doesn't get called. Maybe it's because I went out for the 7th grade team and didn't make it.

What ever the reason, I just don't follow the sport.

Until this time of year. I get wrapped up in March Madness. (Aside: why does March Madness finish in April?) Which is really surprising considering that my alma matres played a combined 3 games in the last 10 years...and have only one win to their collective credit!

Two of these games happened this year, with the Wolverines finally making the Tournament following an 11 year drought. While it made me proud to see the Block M on the t.v. screen, I still couldn't get in to the games. Instead I found myself trying to see what was written on the back of their warm up jerseys.

Queme los Barcos.

Those words translate to "burn the ships." Apparently, there is a story that Hernando Cortes, upon arriving on the Yucatan Peninsula's beaches in 1519, stunned his men with the order to burn the ships. The idea was that it left them with no option of retreat.

Burn the ships, he said. There's no going back.

There's no going back for me either. I wonder if there's an inspirational message in this for me? I wonder if there's some way that I can "burn the ship" when I am in Florida? Metaphorically speaking, that is. I wouldn't want to go to jail on some MDP or arson charge.

But the symbolism is strong. And the message, while not historically accurate, is clear.

Hmmm...let me think this over. And let me know if you have any ideas on how you think I can "burn the ship."

Squashed Banana

The Pasta Dinner, by most accounts, was a great success.

"By most accounts?," you ask. "What went wrong?"

Well, nothing, really. It really was a great success. The fundrasier was fruitful, to say the least. The food was delicious by all accounts. And the crowd looked like they were having fun, between eating, meeting Sheila Taormina, and eyeing their favorite raffle items.

"Okay," you say quizically.

Well, okay, there was one little glitch. I didn't get to eat until the end of the night. And if there's anything you should know: I LIKE TO EAT.

I mean really, how do you think I was able to lose 65 pounds. I had to gain the weight in order to lose the weight. And I LIKE TO EAT.

And I especially like the food at the San Marino Club.

But by the time that the guests were leaving was when I first was able to pick up my plate. And by then my pasta was, well, cold. It was still surprisingly good. But it was cold.

Next thing I started humming the Wiggles "Cold Spaghetti" tune to myself. It's a simple toon. The first verse is all of two words: Cold. Spaghetti.

The second verse is not much harder: Squashed. Banana.

Which, in my mind, warped in to: Squashed. Bananaman. Which then warped in to a Muppets tune. Note to self: ask my doctor if there are pharmaceuticals for afflictions like this...

Well thanks to this fundraiser, the progressive dinner and to your support, we have reached our fundraising goal. Now I can focus completely on training for the event.

I am a little worried about the event. Thanks to the weather, I haven't been able to get outside on the bike. And there is no comparison between lap swimming and an open water swim. And the difference in the temperature and humidity between Michigan and Florida is adding some anxiety.

I just hope I don't become the Squashed Bananaman.

Back to the Future

First off: Thanks. Secondly: You're invited.

"Wha...", you ask? "Isn't that usually the other way around?"

You're right. Normally you get invited to something and them comes the thanks. But, that presupposes that I am normal, or think linearly. And we both know that isn't true.

Thank You
The thank you is to McCormick and Schmick's, the Somerset Inn, and Mortons for hosting the progressive dinner this year. The food was sublime, and the event was a huge success.

Forty-five of our closest friends joined us on Sunday for the 3-stop tour. It truly was a wonderful melange of friends, food, and...well...fun.

While I really appreciate everyone that came out, I have to give a special thank you to Eric and Matt at CORE Partners. They have made it a point to attend every progressive dinner since the very first one. I can't thank them enough for their support.

I also want to thank my friends that came out to the RoseBowl last Saturday for a night of bowling. Being left-handed and Irish, I don't have any genetic predisposition for bowling...and it showed that night. I'm just thankful that noone had a video camera!

You're Invited
Raising the funds is a challenge, especially in this economy. In these tough economic times, I am looking to be creative in my fundraising ways. So, what if I paired one of my favorite pasttimes with a fundraiser? Whadda ya know, we figured a way to put something together.

On March 11th, from 5 pm until 7 pm, the San Marino Club is hosting a Pasta Dinner as a fundraiser for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. Yes, I know the 11th is a Wednesday...how else do you think we were able to get such a good price?!?

The $10 ticket includes pasta, salad, roll, and soft drinks. Tickets for kids 12 and under are $5 each. This is more my kind of event...I mean, really, me and food! Do you have to ask more?!?

As an added bonus, Sheila Taormina will be at the event. Sheila is the only woman to compete in four Olympics in three different disciplines:
1996 Olympic Games, Atlanta, Swimming
2000 Olympic Games, Sydney, Triathlon
2004 Olympic Games, Athens, Triathlon
2008 Olympic Games, Beijing, Modern Pentathlon.
She took Gold in the 1996 Olympics, and was the 2004 Triathlon World Champion.

Meeting Sheila, alone, is worth the price of admission!

My teammates and I are also putting the final touches on a raffle for that night. Hopefully, I can put out a list of the raffle items in next week's blog.

If you’d like to buy a ticket in advance, drop me a line. If you’d rather make a “game day” decision, that works too.

Well I'm off to swim 2 miles tonight...it is so hard to stay motivated in the Winter. But the thought of seeing my friends on the 11th really makes a difference.

Learning the Alphabet

My mom has a voracious appetite for reading. The woman is always surrounded by books. I swear she buys them in bulk.

It was no different when we were growing up. For a while, I thought she had a printing press in our basement. Or she had sequestered Dr. Seuss in an abandoned warehouse until he turned over at least 3 copies of each of his works to her!

I feel for my mom. I especially feel for her affliction. Not that her reading habit causes her pain. Rather, the affliction that none of her sons took to her vocation (I really can't call it a hobby).

Don't get me wrong. I like reading. I even kept a favorite childhood book to pass on to my kids. But I just don't share that same passion for books.

While that passion may not be there, I really enjoyed having those books around when I was a kid.

So, our house is populated with kid's books. We have the Disney series, especially if it has a princess in the story. We have the Boxcar Kids series. Joe really likes the Michigan Thrillers books.

And, of course, Dr. Seuss. Joe and Alaina each have their own preferred story. But Norah doesn't seem to take a liking to them. Not yet, at least.

That's okay. But we really want her to start learning the alphabet. So, Elisha went out to the store and bought Alphabet Flashcards. And she came up with a game for Norah to play with the Flashcards. The cards and the game are a hit, and Norah is doing wonderfully well learning her alphabet.

But, one night, while we were playing the Flashcard game, I became a little suspicious of the company that developed the cards. You see, each card has a series of pictures that represent the letter in the alphabet. The idea is not too dissimilar from Dr. Seuss' ABC Book (think: Aunt Annie's Alligator).

For the most part, the pictures and the messages are nondescript. Until we got to the letter "J".

But there my daughter was, clutching the card in her hand, when I first noticed it. The pictures, and the words, laid out in a perfect series...Jungle...Juice...Jug!

I started having flashbacks to my undergraduate days. My head started spinning. I started to ask myself, "How do I get that card away from her? How do I protect my innocent little daughter?"

Maybe there's an opportunity here to slip in some of my childhood books and stories. Maybe I can preserve her childhood, at least for a moment.

I started to get excited. I almost went in to a panic. Then I remembered the stories from my childhood.

"There's a Wocket in my Pocket"? Really? "Puff the Magic Dragon"? Seriously? Who am I fooling?

I left the room, laughing.

Later that night after the kids went to bed, I went to the kitchen, mixed up a batch of Jungle Juice, grabbed my iPod, and spent the rest of the night listening to the Stones.

Feelin' Stronger Every Day

I was a little worried when I read the training schedule for this week. In particular, the bike and the run training: Three 90 minute sessions on the bike, and a 10-mile and 8-mile run.

In case you didn't know this: I DON'T LIKE RUNNING!

Surprisingly, though, it is going fine. I completed the 10-mile run, and felt pretty good about it. And, with the adjustments to my bike, it is a lot easier to spend that kind of time in the saddle. (This is where I say thanks to the good people at Fraser Bike...wow.)

Don't get me wrong...I still have a long way to go before I'm ready. A really long way.

But I was really happy with how I feel at this point. Maybe I'm finally beginning to get in to the groove. Maybe Peter Cetera is channeling through me, " I do believe in you, And I know you believe in me."

Yikes. That's kinda creepy.

Actually, I think my body finally gave in and said (in a strange Brooklyn-ish kind of way), "You're serious about this?!? Okay, then." Followed by an almost imperceptible, "The best thing to happen to you, the worst thing that happened to me."

Dang it Peter! Get out of my head!

Then again, I still have an 8-mile run to do...Let's hope that goes alright, too..."You know I'm alright now."

I mean it! No more Chicago tunes!

Ski Weekend

We went skiing this past weekend.

No we're really not a ski-type family. We've gone for a ski weekend once a year for the past three years. I don't think anyone could mistake us as mogul-monsters or snowboard-snobs.

But it's fun.

Joe and Alaina take off down the slopes with their friends. And, for the most part, play it safe. Norah and I hit the towrope, while Elisha tried to keep the baby entertained. I definitely got the better assignment.

But for some reason, I'm sore. Still, today as I write this, my muscles are telling me to "cool it."

Maybe its from pulling Norah up the slope on the towrope? Naw, couldn't be that.

Could it be from having to carry her down the slopes, giving her the impression that she was skiing? Can't imagine that would have anything to do with it.

What about getting in the car right after skiing for the drive home, spending 3 hours in the back seat, keeping the baby entertained? Please.

None of those reasons sound even remotely plausible.

And they won't sound plausible again next year, will they? No one said I was very bright.

After all, if I were, would I agree to take on raising $5,000 for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society in THIS ECONOMY? Two years ago, at this point in my fundraising effort, I was within $400 of my goal. This time around? Oh, well, let's see...yep...I still need to raise $3,000.

Yikes!

Thanks aren't enough for the friends and family that have helped me to this point. Quite honestly, I don't know where I'd be without you. Well...that's not entirely true...I know where I'd be...I would need to raise $5,000, and even more stressed out!

Maybe my muscle aches are a metophor for the financial aches and pains that we're all facing. Do you think there's a tow rope big enough to pull us out of this financial valley? I sure hope so.

I remember something Franklin Roosevelt once said, “We have always held to the hope, the belief, the conviction that there is a better life, a better world, beyond the horizon.”

There is hope for this economy. Just as there is hope for a cure. If enough of us grab the towrope and pull to the top, we'll see the horizon.

Kids of Steel

I spent a little time reminiscing recently. A very smart friend of mine told me that I should try it from time to time.

It is refreshing. Cathartic, in a way.

So, as I prepared to spend some time reflecting, I thought it would be fun to go through some pictures from the past year. And I came across this picture of Norah from the Windsor Star.

I started laughing to myself and smiling.

She was racing in the Kids of Steel triathlon last summer when the photographer captured this image of the two of us. It was on the front page of their online edition.

It really was a special moment, and a special day. She was so excited to enter "her triathlon."

As the race neared, she started to get more and more nervous. She asked if I could do the race with her. You can see in the picture where my shorts are wet from the *ahem* swim.

She was so proud of herself that day. She completed a triathlon. And I think that's what I like about this sport.

Sure, there are folks that enter triathlons with a goal of competing. But for so many more of us, it is about completing. There's a sense of pride and accomplishment in that.

I may not find myself on the podium at the end of the day. Let me rephrase that: I will never find myself on the podium at the end of the day.

But, like Norah, I did it. I completed a triathlon. And that little success can never be taken away.

Likewise, our small effort to help raise funds for LLS will never get our name on any fancy building. But it will lead toward a cure, one day. And no one can take that away.

Crawl Before You Run

"Running comes last." In every event I've been, that is the one truism.

Oh, sure, there was Steelhead last summer. The event coordinators cancelled the swim and replaced it with a run. Not that I'm complaining (well, maybe a little). With the waves they were that day, it was the right decision.

While the race started with a run, it also ended with a run. I never thought I'd like a bike ride more than I did that day! Did I ever tell you how much I hate running?

In case you missed it: I HATE RUNNING.

But running is part of the event. And it comes last.

Funny how that works in life too. The running comes last.

Before you run, you have to walk. Before you walk, you have to learn to crawl.

So simple. So true. So beautiful. "So what?," you say incredulously. "Why are you waxing poetic?"

I don't blame you. But I hope you'll forgive me. See, Keira started crawling this week. And it is the most precious thing to see. She was grinning from ear to ear as she made her way across the floor to "mama."

Will she crawl to me? Not unless I have a bottle in my hand. But, then again, therein lies another truism (for another day).

As I watched her this week, I remember milestones for the other children: Joe's first steps, Alaina's first plie, Norah's first tackle.

"Wait, I think you got that backward. Isn't Norah a girl?," you ask. Yeah, you're right, Norah is a girl. And a tough one at that. Frankly, I'd love to talk about her first graceful...well...anything.

That said, they are all so beautiful, and graceful, in their own way. And they are growing up so fast. I just hope I remember these days. Especially as I get older, and my "running days" are replaced by "crawling days."

Hmmm...I guess the running doesn't come last, after all.

Spin It To Win It

I don't know that I've really talked much about the fundraising side of this crazy train. I shared the story about Camille Claudil (which, by the way, I have it narrowed down to 4 people...maybe...I think...oh shoot). But other than that...

So how's it going?
Thanks to your generosity, we have raised over $1,300 in petitioned donations. "Wait a minute! Aren't all donations petitioned donations?," you ask. Well, yes, they pretty much are.

Really, I don't know of many occasions where a donation comes unsolicited. There is the story about S.S. Kresge making an unannounced visit to UM-Dearborn.

As the story goes: the "old man" visited the campus early in the school's infancy. Mr. Kresge walked in to the Chancellor's office and asked if the school needed anything. Not knowing who he was, the Chancellor politely said no...and, what d'ya know, UM-Dearborn is the only public university in Michigan that doesn't bear Mr. Kresge's name on its library.

An urban legend? I don't know. But it does illustrate the point that not too many folks come knocking unannounced. Still I feel awkward calling the gifts by any other name.

"Solicited?" I suppose. But it just sounds too tawdry.

"Cajoled?" Too sneeky.

"Begged?" Too desperate. Hmmm...well...maybe I shouldn't rule that one out.

Creativity rules
"Murphy,' you say. "Tell me that you're not just hitting your friends up for money." And, you are right to ask that of me. Times are really tight. And while I really do appreciate every dime you have given, we can't make our goal (yes, our goal. you are part of my team) through petitioned donations alone.

So, my teammates and I have been a little creative. We've come up with a series of "FUN"draisers, where we try to create a fun night out that will also bring in a few pennies.

Our first "FUN"draiser, a Spin-a-Thon, was this past weekend. "A what?," you ask. "A Spin-a-Thon?"

Yes, a Spin-a-Thon. We invited a bunch of our friends and other cycling ne'er-do-wells to join us for 3 hours of a spinning class at Beverly Hills Club.

"Wait, I thought you said that these were supposed to be fun, Murphy. You know, you are really off your rockers. I'm beginning to think your weight loss was all from your head."

I know. It might not be what most of us consider fun. Three years ago, I would have "urped" at the idea.

But, really, we're trying to be creative. "So, did it work?" Good question.

You'd be happy to know that it was well attended. And as a team, we raised a few coins. And that, in the end, is what matters.

If Spin-a-Thons aren't your gig, I am working on a couple of other "FUN"draisers. Our next event is a Bowl-a-Thon, scheduled for February 21st. RoseBowl Lanes is hosting us that evening. RoseBowl Lanes is on Groesbeck in Roseville. Tickets are $25/person, and includes bowling (obviously), pizza and soda pop. I'll post more information on the Bowl-a-Thon once we get the flyer together.

It also looks like the Progressive Dinner Party will take place again. And I am finalizing the details on a Spaghetti Dinner.

These events are more my speed. And hopefully yours too. So, maybe we'll see you at a "FUN"draiser???

The Little Things

It's the little things in life that make it all worthwhile.

Like watching your kids open Christmas presents. The anticipation of Opening Day. A surprise kiss.

Oh, sure there are others. And a lot of them happened this past year. Some were bigger than others. Some really don't mean anything to anyone else but me. I suppose, by definition, that is why they are "little things."

Over the holidays, I asked Eric how he was doing. Last time I included an update on Eric was over a year ago. His goal then was to do "the little things."

Like make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for his daughter. Or...try this...walk.

Wow.

So how is Eric doing? Well, he writes, "suffice it to say that since then (my last post on Eric), recuperating and rehabilitating has been my full-time job. I've had three surgeries to repair damage to my feet; surgery to regain partial use of my left hand; a month-long stay at a rehabilitation hospital to learn to walk again after being bedridden for seven months; five months of IV antibiotics at home to clear up a serious bone infection; several appointments with prosthetics and orthotics firms, one that is completing a state-of-the-art 'bionic' right hand with fingers that open and close; and seven weeks of daily hyperbaric oxygen treatments at a nearby hospital to help close wounds on my feet."

Wow.

"I scoot around the house in my wheelchair packing lunches, making dinner and doing laundry."

Wow.

"I get to shuttle the kids to school on my electric scooter. And, a kind neighbor taught me how to drive our car with a spinner knob on the steering wheel so I can shuttle the kids to activities."

Wow.

Eric still has a long way to go. The wounds on his feet still are not closed. And he faces a lot of physical therapy to regain use of his hands and...well...to walk.

Some "little things" really are bigger than others.

Happy Holidays

I love this time of year.

Oh sure, I could do without all the snow. And the lead up to the holidays is hectic. Please don't get me started about the madness of drivers around the mall!

But that is all behind us now. That is, unless you need to return that sweater from your auntie. If you do, please know that there is a special place for people like you today.

I'm pretty lucky. I don't have any returns to make. Then again, my auntie doesn't send me anything...hmmm...wait a minute...d'oh!

"Seriously now," you say.
You're right, I digress.

The holidays are a wonderful time to relax and enjoy spending time with family. It warms my heart and feeds my soul to be with family and friends this time of year. And that is exactly what we did. After we got over the flu. Yep, the little flu bug thought it kind enough to visit us. The little fella was like a bad guest, and overstayed its welcome by three days.

"Please, spare us the details," you implore.

I'll spare you the details. "Whew."

It finally left our house in time to enjoy the holidays. I'll spare you the details of our holidays. Personally, I like hearing how friends spend their holidays. Mostly, I like hearing the family traditions. But...well...ummm...not too many people, shall we say, share my feelings. "Whew, dodged another bullet!"

But, if you'd like to share yours, I'd love to hear about them. If you're so inclined, post a comment about your family traditions. I'd love to hear about them. If you'd rather post a note about the traffic problems around the mall, go find another blog.

I hope that your holiday season is spent relaxing with family and loved ones. If for some reason you can't be with your loved ones, please know that my family and I are thinking of you. And reminding ourselves how lucky we are to have friends like you.

Who are you?

I don't know that anyone would confuse me with being creative.

Funny? Sure. Goofy? You bet. But creative? That's a stretch.

Given the chance, I'd probably eat the same thing for breakfast and lunch every day. Come to think of it, I DO eat the same thing for breakfast every day.

My idea of being creative is, maybe, mowing the lawn in the opposite direction than I normally mow. Seriously, there's not much creativity to be found here.

But I have some creative friends. One in particular recently caught my attention: Camille Claudel.

I don't know anyone named Camille Claudel. And yet, a donation was made in her name to my account. If you know me at all, you know by now that I need to know where to send the thank you card. So, I looked in the usual locations for Camille's name.

I checked my Outlook contacts, business cards, Holiday card mailing list, school registry. No luck.

I checked the city's employee list. There is an employee that shares the last name. But, his first name isn't Camille. And he doesn't cross-dress (not that there's anything wrong with that!).

So, now I'm perplexed. And a little nervous. Nervous along the lines of wondering if I need a PPO against this "suspicious person." Until I did a Google search. You gotta love Google.

It turns out that Camille Claudel is a pretty famous art student of a particularly famous artist named Auguste Rodin. Doesn't ring a bell? Don't worry, it didn't for me either...not at first.

Until a friend pointed out to me that my picture from the first blog of the new season looks strikingly similar to Rodin's "The Thinker."

I told you I'm not creative. Nor, it turns out, very smart.

But I am smart enough to know that the real Camille Claudel didn't make the donation. She passed away some time ago. So, who is this Camille Claudel?

It is taking me some time to put things together. But I think I have some ideas:

It could be one of my students from UM-Dearborn, where I teach as an adjunct professor. I know I shared a story or two during class. So maybe one of them wanted to make a donation, but go unnoticed so not to "unduly influence" their final grade?

Or it could be someone from the Paint Creek Center for the Arts. I've been working with the good people at Paint Creek on a possible partnership for the Old Stone School house. We have some really cool ideas coming together that might lead to an awesome artist community in Troy. I'll probably write about that another time. I know that I mentioned a few things about my training with a few of the Paint Creek board members. Maybe it is one of them?

I may never know who you are. And I may never know the names of the anonymous donors at the grocery store, or during a spin-a-thon, or during a bucket drive. But, know that it means a lot. And know that I am adopting the name of Camille Claudel in honor of you and all anonymous donations, by including the name on the t-shirt that I wear at the race.

Fudge

"Only I didn't say 'Fudge.' I said THE word, the big one, the queen-mother of dirty words, the 'F-dash-dash-dash' word!" -Ralphie Parker

I don't know if there has ever been a list of the quintessential Christmas movies ever made.

Oh sure, we're all familiar with "Miracle on 34th Street." And who doesn't watch "It's a Wonderful Life" on Christmas Eve?

To me, they pale in comparison to Ralphie Parker and his "Christmas Story." That movie, in many respects, captures all that is right and *ahem* challenging about the Christmas season.

Our hopes, our dreams, and our disappointments come to life on the silver screen through Ralphie's narration.

The lessons aren't limited to Christmas. Oh, no. I have drawn more lessons from this movie at times I never thought. Or expected.

"Like during Saturday's brick?," you ask. Yes, like during Saturday's brick. You could say that Ralphie and I became one.

This was my first brick session for the season. So, I expected a little bit of a challenge. But not this much of a challenge.

The bike went reasonably well. While the single-leg pedaling was a challenge, I got through it. And the run outside was okay. It was a little cold. But, again, I got through it.

It was after that when the spirit of Ralphie made his appearance.

You see, it turns out that I've been doing brick workouts all wrong. Apparently, I'm not done after riding my bike for 90 minutes and running for 60 minutes. Who knew? Not me, for starters.

After doing all that fun stuff, we go right in to resistance training. Ugggh.

Except I didn't say Ugggh. It sounded a lot like Ugggh. And pretty close to Fudge.

I mean, really? It's not like we're training for an Ironman or anything! Oh, wait, ummm. That's right. We are.

Sorry, Ralphie.

Over? It's Just Beginning

"Over? Did you say 'over'? ... Was it over when the Germans bombed Pearl Harbor?" -Bluto

"Now what?," we pondered after we finished the Nation's Triathlon. We spent every Saturday and most Thursdays together for an entire season. And now we're done?

"Is it really over?"

Pete, Ron and I spent some quality time searching for answers. Ron started another mission project in Africa, and is leading the effort to open a new church in Washtenaw County.

Pete and I weren't as ambitious. Maybe we could spend some time with our children. Maybe even go out on a date or two with our wives.

Respectively, that is. Don't get me wrong, I like Carol and all...Anyhow, I digress.

Pete, Ron, and so many others from the Nation's Triathlon team agreed that we still wanted to be part of the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. Our race was over, no doubt. But the fight against blood cancers is not. Along the way, we met so many families and friends that shared stories of how this disease has impacted their lives.

You shared stories of brothers and sisters, sons and daughters, mothers and fathers, aunts and uncles that have battled and won. And, in private, you shared stories of loved ones who weren’t so fortunate. It is for you – and our loved ones – that I am joining again with Team in Training to compete in the Gulf Coast Half Ironman Triathlon.

I am not doing this alone. I am buoyed by a great group of teammates. Pete is back. As is Andi Duncan, who teamed with us in Washington DC. In all, there are about a dozen of us that will take on the Half Ironman in May for Team In Training.

I also have the love and support of my family. The kids have already gotten after me, after I missed out on a run.

I have my personal hero, Eric Jones. Some of you got to know Eric through my earlier postings. He still is battling through the after-effects of lymphoma. He's making progress. And he continues to keep an amazingly positive attitude. What stength.

And I have you. I can't thank you enough for your kindness and compassion. Without you, it would make for a long and arduous journey. Knowing that you're by my side, I will be inspired through to the finish line.

Update on Eric

It has been a while since I last made a posting...since the race actually. So, I don't know if you are still checking in on things. But I thought I'd take a chance and post the latest e-mail from AJ:
__________________________________________
Hello well-wishers, candle-lighters, God-prayers and keep-us-in-your-thoughters -

It's time once again for everybody's favorite e-newsletter: What's Wrong with Eric This Week? Well, I'm happy to report that the boy is doing rather well. In fact, his progress has been remarkable. And what do we do when Eric is feeling particularly healthy? We cut him open, of course. And that's just what we're going to do today...

As you'll recall from our last episode, I mentioned that Eric would be having surgery on his left hand to move some tendons and muscles around, unblock some nerves, and generally make that hand more flexible and dexterous. "Hey," you might be saying, "wasn't he supposed to have that surgery a while ago? What the f*$&#@?" Yes, he was. As it turns out, his hand surgeon is a bit of a baby, and decided to postpone the hand surgery a couple weeks until his feet healed. Something about "infection." Baby.

The good news is we're go for surgery today. Surgery will last about four hours at the Hospital for Special Surgery in NYC. They specialize in orthopedics (and replaced his hip back in 2004). He should be home Tuesday or Wednesday.

"And so what's the deal with his feet? What the f*$&#@?" you might be asking.

First of all, watch your language. This is a family newsletter.

The skin grafts on his feet did their grafty-thing and are stuck on there in a very disgusting yet satisfying manner. Foot doctor is very pleased, and Mr. Eric is even allowed to stand up. They gave him some Big Boy Frankenstein Shoes (just in time for Halloween), and if you stop by his house at scheduled times you can see the Amazing Eric actually stand on Two Feet! No flash photography, please.

In further 80-year-old-Eric news, Sue's grandma loaned him an electric wheelchair so he can chase neighborhood cats in his spare time. He was a major attraction at the annual Wagner Ave. Block Party, and could be seen racing up and down the street, delivering beverages and giving rides to his neighbors ($1.50 for five minutes - Ladies Free from 3-6pm).

So, what's next? Well, there's a little spot (about the size of a nickel) on the back of one foot where the graft didn't hold. We tried to fill it in with Hubba Bubba (chewed and unchewed), spackle, wood putty and caulk, but no luck so far. The foot doctor is going to close it sometime after his hand surgery. After that, it's all about the walking. Not sure at this point if he's going to go to a rehab facility for a couple weeks to start walking, or do it all from home. I'll keep you posted.

That's all the news that's fit to print. We're still hoping for Eric to be walking around and wrapping his own presents by Christmas. His patience continues to be superhuman.

Hope you're all doing well.