Sun worship

Summer arrived a day late here in Seattle, and not a moment too soon. An article in the Times this morning indicated that Sunday was the darkest June day in at least 15 years, and it has been 271 days (and counting) since the temperature has cracked the 75 degree mark, breaking the previous record of 254 days. It doesn't look like it will get over the 75 degree mark today, but it is a warm, sunny day. Not quite summer heat, but at least it feels like spring.

I went for a run at Alki Beach out in West Seattle yesterday afternoon. There is a nice path along Puget Sound with sweeping views of the ocean as well as downtown Seattle. It is typically filled with runners, bikers, rollerbladers, kids and dogs, especially as the rain gives way to the sun.

It was a bit quiet for the first day of summer, but there were still a number of people able to get outside in the middle of the afternoon. It was generally overcast, but the sun broke free for about a half an hour during my run. A run along the ocean was just the tonic I needed, but I wasn't having nearly as much fun as this pooch in the video I caught on my iPod.



He didn't seem to care that it wasn't yet swimming weather.

Another article that showed up in my inbox around the first day of summer was appropriately about sunscreen. An excerpt:

For the second time this month, Senator Chuck Schumer (D-NY) is sounding alarms about sunscreen. Last Friday, the senator stood with parents and a scientist from the nonprofit Consumers Union and called upon the Food and Drug Administration (FDA) to regulate sunscreens more tightly, after reviewing evidence that a common sunscreen ingredient could be a culprit in promoting, rather than protecting against, certain types of skin cancer.

The ingredient at issue is retinyl palmitate, a derivative of vitamin A added to a wide variety of sunscreens and other personal-care products to enhance your skin's appearance. But its use in sunscreens concerns Schumer and other public health advocates, who cite numerous studies finding that it breaks down in the presence of UV rays to form DNA-damaging free radicals, which can promote the development of certain types of cancer. 

The article goes on to discuss the differences between UVA and UVB rays, and how the SPF ratings of sunscreen relate to protection against burning vs protection from skin cancer. Consumers should look for the words "broad-spectrum" to find sunscreen that protect against both UVA and UVB rays, but there are also certain ingredients that are safer than others.

The article also points to a site where you can look up the best sunscreens, as well as find out how your regular brand rates. I am Irish-white, with skin that does not tan so much as it burns. Since I am outside on a regular basis for both work and exercise, I am very good about slathering on SPF 30 or 50 before I head out.  I looked up the two brands I have been using lately, and they each fell in the middle of the scale. At a rating of 4, they were below the "recommended" range, but above the "avoid" category.

One of the concerns with my typical brands is that they both contain the chemical oxybenzone. Not only does oxybenzone break down in sunlight to form free radicals, but according to the site, it is also a synthetic estrogen that absorbs through the skin. No wonder I've been so emotional lately.

The end of Day

The sun has finally slipped below the horizon
no matter how hard I willed it not to.

The divorce became final today.

But the world continues to spin
and a new dawn
will eventually chase away
the darkness.

The friendly skies

I have moved to flying Southwest Airlines lately. Their prices are generally very competitive, and since they don't charge for checking luggage, there are less hidden charges to think about when pricing a flight. The fact that they don't charge for checked luggage doesn't prevent passengers from trying to cram a suitcase into the overhead bin, but I'm betting it is even worse on other airlines.

And Southwest has an understood culture of having a little fun on the job. There are generally a few jokes during the announcements, probably to prevent you from tuning them out. One of the standard announcements is to put on your oxygen mask before helping another (so you have the ability to help). The Southwest joke is to put on your mask before picking your favorite child to help next.

The crew on the first leg of my trip was just like any other airline, but the second leg had more fun at their job. The gal doing the exits/seatbelt/oxygen mask presentation fastened the 1970's style seatbelt around her head like a headband, and the oxygen mask became a hat. I am sure this not only helps keep her job light and fun, but she can tell who is paying attention by their reaction. Later she walked down the aisle sporting a glue-on black mustache. Even when she was in the jumpseat chatting with another flight attendant, she was all smiles. I have to say, it is great to be around folks who have fun at their jobs (or are at least great at faking it).

Southwest is general admission, with no assigned seats. The earlier you check in, the closer you are to the front of the line to have your pick of seats. I can imagine the folks stepping on the plane when it is partially full, scan the seats for an appropriate seat mate, trying to deduce in seconds whether they want to sit next to this person for a couple of hours. Are they chatty, fidgety, an armrest hog, angry or happy travelers? I was on the flights early, so I was the subject of scrutiny.

Not that I look forward to flying, but I don't really dread it. It is a quiet time of no cell phone or internet access. A time to catch up on reading or writing. I am not a chatty flier, and I ended up drawing similarly quiet seat mates on my two flights. The woman across the aisle was very chatty, and I can only hope the woman in the center seat was interested in passing the time hearing stories about random family members. (I would not have been).

I make a point of being polite and friendly to most everyone in the service industry. They often take the brunt of the public's frustration, sometimes quite unfairly. I greeted the TSA agent checking ID with a smile and a hearty "good morning". She returned the favor by looking at my ID and saying "looks like you've lost weight". Nice way to start the morning and my vacation.

On a flight in December, a passenger started popping off to one of the flight attendants. You could tell he was the type to treat service people as his personal punching bag, dismissing the flight attendant with a wave of his hand. The flight attendant was not willing to take it, but gave the passenger one chance to back off/calm down. When he did not, the flight attendant disappeared for a moment before returning to escort the passenger off the flight. The passenger backpedaled and immediately became conciliatory. The flight attendant kept at him, making sure there would be no further disturbances, before agreeing to let him stay on the plane. The captain actually stopped by five minutes later to make sure there would be no more trouble.

I have to say, it was nice to see them stand up against the rude treatment. The customer is not always right. You have to pretend they are 95% of the time, but there is no reason to accept personal abuse.

Airline flights are getting tougher to enjoy with diminishing leg room, disappearing perks, and added fees, but it certainly could be a lot worse. There was talk a little while ago of allowing cell phones to be active during flights. I hope this never comes to pass. It is one thing to have a seat mate engage you in conversation when you are not interested, but quite another to listen to half a conversation, inches from your ear, with no ability to get away from it.

And there is even talk about charging for carry-on bags and bathroom visits. Please, just give me the price up front, and get me there on time with minimal hassle. I promise to be quiet and behave.

Going home

So I am headed to Seattle for a little over a week. It is my first visit back home since the move to San Diego. The choice of week was pretty much a no-brainer with the U2 concert scheduled for tomorrow, and the Rock n Roll Half Marathon a week from today. Unfortunately, Bono has injured his back and the U2 concert has been postponed indefinitely. But the week will be full nontheless.

My froomies Matt and Holly have been through this many times. They have lived for extended periods of time in both Seattle and San Diego, and have developed many friendships in both locales. When visiting, they find it impossible to fit in visits with all the friends and family they'd like to see. My dancecard is already filling up, but I am hoping to have a little time just to relax and drink in some of scenes and scents of my Northwest home.

I hadn't thought about it previously, but when describing the move to San Diego, I've come to realize that I have never lived outside of a 20 mile radius of Seattle. I have been fortunate to travel quite a bit, but have never pulled up stakes to settle anywhere else. I have no idea how long I will be in San Diego, but Seattle will always be home.

I never count off the days to an approaching trip. I'm not sure why this is, but it doesn't become real to me until I hit the road or step on a plane. I am currently on the first leg of the flight home, and I can't wait to get there.

Quote of the day

"The world breaks everyone, and afterward, some are strong at the broken places."

~ Ernest Hemingway

A picture is worth...well, your camera

So I saw this story in the paper this morning, The Odyssey: Camera survives ocean trip to Florida.  A teaser:

Paul Shultz was walking along the pier of a Key West marina when he saw what looked like a rotting tomato pounding against the rocks.

The Coast Guard investigator waded ankle-deep into the water to fish out the ocean rubbish: a bright red Nikon camera, small enough to fit in the palm of his hand. Its waterproof plastic case was covered with six months' worth of crusty sea growth, but the camera itself was almost pristine when he found it May 16.

However, clues to tracking down its owner were few. So Shultz decided to test his investigative skills.

Mr. Shultz used some of the pictures, with the online community's help, to deduce that the camera was likely lost in Aruba, 1,100 miles away. But he still didn't know who owned it. But once he had the location, and he posted some pictures from the camera online, the owner was tracked down. Kind of an interesting, message in a bottle story with some investigative reporting thrown in.

I recently bought a new camera, because the old one was producing pictures like this:

Every few photos would be grainy and whited out. At least with digital cameras, you know this right away and usually have a chance to get the shot again, but not always. With the trip to Lake Powell approaching and other summer fun to document, I decided to replace it.

As always, I wasn't looking to spend too much money, and I am not that great of a photographer that I need lots of bells and whistles. Just something to point and shoot really. The main thing I was looking for was a compact size, something I could easily slip in a pocket. I am not great about setting out to take pictures, but my last camera was so small I could have it on hand when a good shot presented itself.

The other main feature I was looking for was ease of use. When I picked up the Samsung TL105, the menus and buttons were intuitive enough that I could navigate easily right away. Just with the passage of time, the camera is nicer than the one it is replacing. It takes 12 megapixel pictures instead of 6, and the new one shoots HD video as well. At $119, it seemed like a good deal.

After a week in Lake Powell and carrying it along on the marathon, I have to say I am pretty happy with it. I honestly have been using the 8 megapixel setting just to keep the file sizes down, but the pictures have turned out great.

This morning's story about a lost camera reminded me of a story I saw a few weeks back. This guy has a pretty clever way to identify his camera in case it ever gets lost. I may have to do it myself since one disadvantage of being able to stash your camera in a pocket or other small space, is that it tends to get easily misplaced. Or dropped it in the ocean.

All American afternoon

I haven't been following my hometown Mariners very closely, but I catch the box scores in the paper each day. I know enough that they aren't doing very well. I realized late last night that they were in town to play the the San Diego Padres, so I jumped online and grabbed a ticket to today's game.

To avoid hassles of traffic and parking, I took the trolley in from Lemon Grove. It runs about every 30 minutes on Sundays, and it drops you off within sight of the stadium. So great.

It was a beautiful afternoon, so I headed in early to walk around the stadium. Petco Park reminds me a bit of Safeco back in Seattle. Where I think Safeco has a bit more character, it is hard to beat the park-like atmosphere of Petco. There is a grassy hill beyond center field where you can lay out a blanket and picnic within sight of the field. There is even a mini baseball diamond where kids can play a T-ball game while waiting for the big-league version to start.

Sundays are apparently both pet adoption days (Petco is the name on the stadium after all), as well as military appreciation day. Military personnel that arrive in uniform get half-price tickets, and I believe they sponsor a particular unit each Sunday. Just before the Padres took the field (in desert fatigue looking uniforms), there was a soldier standing at attention at each position. The players ran to their respective position and "relieved" the soldier. It was pretty cool.

The tickets I bought were in the upper deck, but were right behind home plate. They turned out to be in the front row as well, so this was my view.

The Mariners have been playing pretty poorly, and their hitting has been almost non-existent. But today's game was a good one. Felix Hernandez pitched an almost complete game (being relieved with only one out to go in the ninth), and shut down the Padres for much of the game. There was a somewhat rare, two run, inside-the-park home run in the third inning when Franklin Gutierrez let a line drive hit get under his glove. But the Mariners responded in the next inning with an almost as rare (for them) two run home run by Milton Bradley. They went ahead in the eighth and added an insurance run in the ninth to win 4-2.

It was a wonderful, impromptu afternoon in the sun.

When you're at a loss for words

While we were on the Lake Powell trip, one of the Dads was on the beach with his daughter. At some point he presented her with two options. I don't remember exactly what they were, but it was something like, "Do you want to stay and build sandcastles, or do you want to play in the water, because you need to put on your life jacket if you do." Overwhelmed by the options, she answered, "Meow" in her best cat voice.

I can see pulling this out the next time I don't know what the right answer is. 

Meow 

More marathon thoughts

* While we were in Lake Powell, there was a family staying at the house, and they were there the afternoon after the marathon as well. One of the kids, who clearly had been paying attention to the adult chatter, asked me if I ran 13.1 or 26.2 miles. I was impressed by his informed question, and I told him I did the whole 26.2 miles. Then he asked that question that I have never been asked, but that I've heard repeated jokes about. He asked, "Did you win?"

* I don't know if my race strategy is changing, or if it was the week on a boat with kids, but I passed up the guy handing out beer on the course, but thankfully stopped for the kids handing out Otter Pops.

* Not many of the pictures I took came out very well, but I did capture one of the roof top deck where our Seattle group celebrated after running the 2007 marathon. We had a BBQ, ordered some pizza, and celebrated our long run in the sun. It was great.

* So, on a scale of one to "damn that hurt", the marathon was five stars. It was the toughest one since the Surf City Marathon where I was fighting knee pain at mile 6. In both events, the second half of the marathon was much slower than the first half.

So I don't know if this is really insulting to the effort it took to finish the second half, or a commentary on the half-assed way I showed up, but this is the shirt I received at the end.

Since I missed the expo, I didn't get my shirt until the finish (so I wouldn't have to carry it I suppose). When I finished and found the information booth, they said they were out of the smaller sizes and only had large or extra large. (The fact that they were out of smaller sizes probably had something to do with the more-fit people finishing in front of me). I grabbed a large and stuffed it in my bag. I didn't look at it since I knew what it looked like from seeing so many on the course. Only after getting home did I realize I had a half, rather than full marathon shirt. Matt said "congratulations" with air quotes. Maybe I'll just duct tape over the "1/2"

* This was my fourth Rock n Roll Marathon event, and I have another half marathon version in two weeks in Seattle. The Rock n Roll fanchise puts on a good event - very well organized, good bands, lots of fun and energy. But Seattle may be my last time with them. The price for both the San Diego and Las Vegas events are now $50 higher for no other reason (as far as I can see) than they've become extremely popular. Competitor (the company behind all this) clearly thinks the market will bear this 60% increase in price for their reputation alone. Kind of a bummer, but there are plenty of other roads to run.

Which reminds me, its time to start training again. 128 days 'til next time.

I'll be quiet now

The blog is feeling a little manic-depressive. Nothing for six days and then four posts in one day. Sorry 'bout that.     It was a busy week off the grid.

The San Diego Rock n Roll Marathon

So, after three days of escape, hurdles knocked down by the race promoter, and a long road to the start line - here I was standing in Balboa Park again waiting for the gun to go off. I had no idea how the day would go, but I will say that this is the first time since my first marathon that I brought along money for cab fare or a trolley ride home in case I didn't finish. It was also the first marathon I have run without a friend. In seven marathons and six half marathons, only my first half marathon was run with out a friend participating as well. It was kind of a different feel at the start line. Still exciting, just different.

My first stop was to the "solutions tent" to grab my bib. I had brought along my receipt, confirmation, and the e-mail telling me it was OK to do this, but it turns out there were several people just like me picking up their bib at the last minute. It is obviously discouraged with over 25,000 runners, but I was glad that they make exceptions when necessary. They couldn't find my bib number, so they moved me to another line. There they gave me a different bib number and made a note to transfer it to my name. It made me a bit nervous that my time wouldn't be recorded, but it was done so quickly that Tami was able to follow my progress during the race.

Runners are lined up according to their predicted finish time. The faster the runner, the closer to the start line, and the bib numbers are handed out to match your starting position. My original bib number in the eight thousands put me in corral eight, and my new one put me in corral three. I had no intention of starting that far up, but I thought to myself "Man, it is going to be embarrassing to be wearing this elite bib number if I end up walking later." With the bib switch, I also didn't have the one I had personalized. If you sign up early enough, they will often print a line of text on your bib - your name, a catch phrase, etc. My original bib said "Lucky #7". Probably just as well I wasn't wearing that one either.

The weather was warm but overcast. It was in the low 60's at the start, which is still warm for me, but at least it wasn't predicted to get over 70 during the day. I intended to give it my best, but to enjoy the day as much as I could knowing that it would likely be a slower finish time. I brought along the iPod with a marathon music playlist queued up, as well as my new camera to take some pictures along the way.

The first few miles went well, though sweat was pouring down my face almost immediately. I made sure to take in my surroundings, encourage and thank the spectators and volunteers, and high-five the cheer squads along the way. I snapped photos of Balboa Park, Petco Park, the USS Midway, as well as the roof-top deck where we celebrated the 2007 marathon. At every water station I poured about as much water over my head as I drank.

The major climb of the route is along highway 163 at from miles 8 to 11. The other issue is the banked roadway which did in my IT bands last time I ran this route. But this time I was still feeling pretty good after the climb. I had passed the 4:00 pacer at around mile 2 and was trying to keep him in my rear-view-mirror. I wasn't watching my time too closely, but I knew I was setting a pretty good pace. I found out later that passed the half marathon marker at about 1:56, within 3 seconds of my first half time in Seattle where I set a PR.

The day was going so well, I entertained thoughts of breaking four hours if not making a new PR. I was all ready to write a best-selling book about the virtues of eating and drinking on a boat as a taper plan. The sun broke through the clouds around mile 11 but I maintained a decent pace until around mile 16. I started to slow down and run out of gas just a bit, and ended up walking up a hill between mile 16 and 17.

I have movie and tv audio clips intermixed with songs on my marathon playlist. By some strange coincidence, this clip started playing as I was walking and ended just at the top of the hill. It got me moving again, and with only one more short hill a half mile later, I was thinking I could actually take marathon home along the flatter paths of Mission Bay. As I crossed the I-5 overpass, I saw the finish line off in the distance. Of course it was still nine miles away, and there were several twists and turns to go, but it was encouraging.

I made the turn at the bottom of the hill and there was another cheer squad over on the right side of the shoulder. I went over to get some more high-fives, and started whooping it up to encourage both them and myself. And while I was focusing on shouting and slapping palms, I turned my ankle on some uneven patch of road. The same ankle I twisted less that 24 hours earlier. I hobbled off onto the grass and tried to walk it off. It seemed about as bad as the day before and it only slowed me down for a mile or so. But it was the start of a long slide.

Shortly after the ankle sprain, I felt tightness across my lower rib cage. It started on my right side, but soon spread to the left.  I stopped at the mile 18 water station and took a moment to catch my breath, take in a gel, some more fluids, and a Tylenol for the ankle. I carried on, but it didn't get any better. It felt like someone had put a ratcheting tie-down around my chest, and with each partial mile they ratcheted it one click tighter. It made it hard to get a deep breath, and taking in food or fluids became unappealing.

I started doing the walk/run thing, but the running became progressively slower and the walk breaks more frequent. My pace dropped from somewhere under nine minutes a mile, to ten and half, then eleven and a half minute miles. Thoughts of a four hour finish were fading, though I hadn't seen the four hour pacer go by. I knew that if he passed me, I didn't have anything left to chase him, so I pressed it as much as I could. Then I started to do some math in my head and I realized I was well off that pace, and he must have passed me when I wasn't looking.

The four and a half mile loop around Fiesta Island seemed endless. One highlight was that I ran into Todd, someone I knew from Washington. He was there with his wife waiting on the sandy roadside for some other runner to come by. I was more than happy to stop and chat briefly at that point. So random.

I carried on, trying to just run through the duration of a single song. We were at the walking-wounded stage of the race, and those in slightly better shape were trying to encourage us along. "Hitting the wall", where your body runs out of simple carbs to burn, usually happens somewhere around mile 20. Coaches often say that energy waxes and wanes, and encourage runners to hang in there until your body switches gears. I tried to be patient, but when I tried to dig deeper I found nothing.

I continued my shuffle toward home. About a half mile from the finish my knee started to hurt from a tight IT band, but I was close enough that it didn't slow me down much more than I was already going. In previous marathons, I have been able to crank up the pace at the end, if only along the short finishing chute, but not this day. It wasn't for lack of support, as there was a wall of people cheering us on. I just had nothing in the tank.

Matt and Holly surprised me by meeting me later at the finish line festival. They had friends in town that were leaving the next day, so I encouraged them to skip out on marathon day. But they endured hassles and traffic to be there to congratulate me. We did get to see Big, Bad Voodoo Daddy at the post-race concert, which was cool. Holly knows a few of the band members and was able to get their attention while they were on stage, but we missed them on the way out so we didn't have a chance to meet them.

I finished in 4:14:35, which in hindsight is not a bad time considering what I brought (or didn't bring) race morning. I was just lulled into faster dreams by the first 2/3rds of the race. I am glad I ran the marathon, and look forward to next time where I will not only enjoy the day, but come prepared to do the best I can. I guess I did set a course PR, improving my 2007 time by about 25 minutes. And like my first marathon, I didn't need cab fare to get to the finish

Getting to the start line

So now it was possible (though difficult) to run the marathon and go on vacation. Even after deciding to go on the houseboat trip, I continued to get in my long runs "just in case". I also have a half marathon later in the month, so I knew the training wouldn't go to waste.

Before we left town for Lake Powell, I tried to do all the last minute prep work for the marathon because I knew there would be little time in between. For anyone who has done one of these races, it is an odd sensation to take care of the last minute details five days before the race, instead of during the antsy moments the night before.

I went out for a quick run around the campground with Sean on Wednesday morning before the boat arrived. I had thoughts of another run, but the rest of the week's exercise was limited to some swimming and one brief ski run. And of course, the food and drink temptations were plentiful. During a normal taper period, you back off the amount of training, but try to keep the intensity up. There was very little intensity involved in lounging on the houseboat.

Being on vacation with fellow runners, most of the opinions were that I should run the marathon. You know the type, "You should totally do it. I would.", said with a beer in hand. But these guys actually meant it, and I was pretty sure I would say the same thing.

So we docked later than planned on Saturday. Every minute that ticked by was one less that I would get in sleep the night before the marathon. It had taken us 11 1/2 hours with stops to make the drive up, and when we didn't drive away until 2:30pm, I wasn't even sure there would be any sleep. On one of the last trips off the boat as we were unloading our gear, I twisted my ankle. I'm not sure if I clipped a cleat or what happened, but soon I was on the ground clutching my ankle thinking "Oh boy, here we go." It definitely hurt, but it wasn't too bad of a sprain. I walked on it but iced it regularly.

Just before we pulled away, Sean's sister offered her house in Vegas if we didn't want to make the trip back all in one shot. It was pretty tempting, but that would mean no marathon. We left non-committal, but when we were back in the car and deciding which way to turn, I chose the route home with no Vegas temptation along the way.

We took turns driving, but I didn't get any sleep when Matt was at the wheel. It is difficult for me to sleep in cars or planes, and Saturday was no exception. We made fewer stops and had our meals on the road from sandwiches Holly had prepared, so we pulled up to the house at around 12:45am. After a bit of last-last-minute prep, my head hit the pillow around 1:15am. Although the days on Lake Powell were very relaxing, I didn't bank up much sleep. Matt was kind enough to drive me to the start line, which meant I didn't have to drive to the shuttle, so it gave me an extra 45 minutes of sleep. But I still had to get up at around 4:00am to make it to the start line, so my sleep tank was going to be nearly empty.

So, under-trained, almost no sleep, and a twisted ankle. This should go well.

So, about that marathon...

So I had plans to run the San Diego Marathon on Sunday. As I have previously mentioned, my training has been a bit half-assed, largely due to a daily five-hour commute for several weeks. I was still getting in the long runs on the weekends, but I was definitely going to be under-prepared.

About a week after I signed up for the marathon, I was invited on the houseboat trip to Lake Powell. I struggled (a bit foolishly) with the decision about whether to run or go on the trip. I was looking forward to running through my new adopted town, and I hate to back out of a commitment. Plus, the money was already spent. In the end, I wisely chose to go on the trip with everyone.

Then I received an e-mail from Lynne that we would be docking on Saturday afternoon. The marathon was on Sunday, so conceivably I could still run. The main hurdle in the way was the fact that I would be out of town during the expo, which is the place you pick up your race bib and timing chip.  In large bolded type on the race website, it states, "You may only pick up your own race packet and number at the Expo- NO EXCEPTIONS! Photo ID required." 

So I couldn't have someone else pick it up for me, and the expo would close at least six hours before we arrived home. I sent a pleading e-mail to see if I could pick up the race packet early since I would be out of state at the time of the expo. A small part of me hoped that they would say "tough luck". Then the decision to run would be out of my hands and I could simply relax on vacation and not have to rush back. It was a small part, but this marathon already had a few things going against it.

I received an e-mail back that if it was absolutely impossible for me to make it to the expo, that there is a "solutions tent" at the start line where I could pick up my bib and chip. Now it was all on me.

hmm...

Lake Powell

It has been an incredible week. Our friends Jonathan and Lynne rented a houseboat on Lake Powell for the week, and invited us up to spend a few days with them. Lake Powell is this massive lake on the Colorado River that is created by the Glenn Canyon Dam. There are countless canyon offshoots along the lake, and there is over 2,000 miles of coastline in all. The canyon walls are several hundred feet high and are mixture of sandstone and rock. They are stunning, especially when the sun hits them at sunrise and sunset. It is hard to understand the scale of them until you see a boat beached up at the base of them. No picture could capture the beauty, but that did not stop us from trying.

It is a 10 - 12 hour drive to get to Lake Powell, and in the interest of maximizing our time on the lake, we drove straight through. We camped with Sean and Marci Tuesday night, and met Jonathan and Lynne late Wednesday morning. It was a very nice campsite, but nothing in comparison to how we would be spending the next three days.

We set out from the dock and wandered down the lake for a couple of hours, and in that time we saw such a small percentage of the lake that it is hardly worth mentioning. We picked a canyon off of Padre bay, and found a nice sandy beach to set up "camp". There was talk of pulling up stakes each night and finding a new cove, but we ended up staying in one place. Houseboats move pretty slowly, so several people also had conventional boats in tow to do their exploring.

The three days went by all too quickly. There was lots of sun, swimming and indulging in fine meals and spirits. We also purchased fishing licenses before we set out, and most mornings there were a couple of people fishing off the second deck or in a quiet cove. But of course the main activity was just spending time with friends.

My birthday was on Thursday, and it was a wonderful day. It was in the upper 90's all week, so I spent as much time in the water as possible, either swimming or standing thigh-deep casting out a line. I even managed to catch a fair-sized fish that day. We had a wonderful dinner and Lynne even made a cake topped with a '4' and a '3' candle. Sadly it is not because I am 34. The highlight of the day was an original song composed by Sean to the tune of The Star Spangled Banner, made up on the spot. We were so busy laughing, no one thought to catch it on video. I slept on the top deck of the boat each night, and drifted off to sleep underneath a perfectly starry sky. Best birthday in recent memory.

Along with myself and the three couples, there were five children ranging in age from eight months to four years old. There was lots of time building sandcastles and throwing rocks into the lake. There were two TVs on board, but they never were turned on (even for a distracting video). There was also no cell or internet service, so the adults were also distraction free. It was a great trip for Annabelle because she loves being outside, feeling the wind in her face, and definitely has her Dad's water gene. Annabelle LOVED splashing around in the water.

On Friday, Sean's sister and brother-in-law met up with us. They have visited Lake Powell several times and were happy to join in on the fun. They have a 23' boat, and took everyone out for some skiing and intertubing. The winds really kicked up that afternoon, so they headed back and we spents some time trying to resecure the houseboat. Along with the high winds, the lake level rose a couple of feet while we were there. When the winds kicked up, Sean brought out a couple of kites for the kids (though I think the adults had more fun with them).

We docked on Saturday afternoon, and then made the long drive home, arriving home sometime near one in the morning on Sunday. It was a tough haul, but absolutely worth it for the time we had on the lake. But maybe next time we'll take an extra day or two so we can enjoy it even more.

It was just a wonderful few days, and I have no idea how I have stumbled upon such wonderful friends. But I continue to enjoy every minute of it.

Waiting for the next swell

I've been having a tough time the last few weeks. The 90 days has run its course, and thoughts of divorce, children, etc. have been filling my mind. The thoughts will always be there, and the severity will rise and fall, but I have been lingering in a trough this month.

We went to church on Sunday, and things started pushing to the surface again. The theme of class was forgiveness, and there was a dedication ceremony, but I don't know that there was any one thing that tripped the switch. Just an overall feeling of family pervaded the day, and it made me linger on what could have been. I had trouble keeping it together and made a hasty exit after the service was over.

I went for a run afterwards. My last long run before marathon weekend (that might yet happen). I ran up near Sunset Cliffs again. It is a little hillier route, but I was only going 10 miles and I wanted to be near the ocean. The 1.25 mile stretch is breathtaking, and I run up there as often as I can. Every time I run this route, there are other runners, surfers and tourists drinking in the scenery.

And almost always, there are people just staring at the ocean. Some pull up a lawn chair, but others just sit on the guardrail and stare west. I am reminded of the movie "Running Scared" with Billy Crystal and Gregory Hines. Two New York cops take a week down on some Caribbean isle to escape from the job. They come upon a large group of people staring off at the ocean. Being cops, they assume there is trouble and they ask, "what is going on, is something wrong?" A woman answers "No, we are just watching the sunset. We do this every day." Their initial reaction is "Seriously?", but after spending a week near the beach they understand it, and begin plotting how to move down there permanently.

Each time I run along Sunset Cliffs I think, "I should come back and watch the sun go down." Sunday was finally someday. I thought the tonic of the sea would help, and I could just let loose of all the feelings I was keeping inside. I pulled up a chair about a half hour before sunset, a cup of coffee and book in hand. There were a bunch of people along the cliff and out on the rocks to take in the nightly show. I watched the people and the waves as the sun slowly sank toward the horizon.

I wasn't expecting answers. I just wanted a moment to let loose my pain and have it wash away into something bigger. But the dam containing my feelings from the morning did not burst, or really even crack. It was one of those rare moments when I was totally present and my mind was quiet. I still didn't find any answers, but the ocean and the sunset was just the tonic I needed.

Like that lone surfer Sunday evening, I'm waiting in a trough for the next big wave to carry me forward. In the meantime, I will try to stay in the moment and enjoy the brilliant scenery. And of course when that wave comes, I need to paddle really hard.