The 20 year path to where I started

"There's not a word yet
for old friends who've just met."

~ lyric from "I'm Going To Go Back There Someday", The Muppet Movie

It sort of feels like I've returned to someplace I have never been. Returning to a job that I have never had.

I studied business and accounting in college, but I have barely worked in the industry. Before I graduated, I went through a series of interviews at school, but did not snag an accounting job. After graduation, I took a review course and studied to take the CPA exam. If memory serves (and it has been a long time) there were four parts to the exam stretched out over two days. If you passed at least two of the sections, you could keep those successes and only have to pass the remaining two parts on your next attempt. The wrinkle is that the exam is only held twice a year.

I managed to pass all four parts on the first try, something only 7% of CPAs accomplished at the time. With the passed test in my hip pocket, I thought it would help set myself apart from other recent graduates. More typically, beginning staff accountants have to split their time between learning the job, and studying to pass the exam. I returned to my college to go through the interviewing process again, and with that successful CPA exam highlighted on my resume, I got even fewer interviews.

I was pretty discouraged. I kept looking, but eventually gave up. I kept working at the restaurant, not sure what was next. Then I got a call. I had left my resume on file with the local CPA association, and was brought in for an interview. It wasn't a typical firm, and they dealt exclusively with clients in trouble with the IRS. Soon I had 350 clients, and I was putting out fires and trying to prevent seizures of property. There simply wasn't enough time to take care of our clients properly. It was chaotic, combative, and unmanageable.

In the end, it wasn't for me. I ended up going back to the restaurant full time. Not much later, I had the opportunity to work for a buddy in construction. It was great learning a new skill, working with my hands, and actually finishing a project. Instead of continually putting out fires and scrambling to cover other people's mistakes, at the end of each day, I was able to point to something I built. Something tangible that would last.

After about five years, I moved on to running the office, managing the jobs and crews, and yes filing the business returns. It was a great mix of the business skills I had learned in school, and the things I had picked up in construction. Construction being what it is, there were up and down times, and when the owner and I decided to move on to something different, I went into real estate and mortgage lending. I enjoyed the work and the finance part was another step closer to actually using my degree.

Of course I got into the industry just before the market crash. I tried to weather the storm, but clients disappeared and my broker closed up shop. When my marriage suffered the same fate, I moved down to San Diego and I returned to construction. I was back to working with my hands, on my feet and outside in the sunshine. I enjoyed it, but as before, the work wasn't consistent. When I decided to move back to Seattle, I really wanted to find something with steady hours and a steady paycheck.

But what sort of job? On paper, I wasn't really tailored for a particular job. I haven't exactly job-hopped, with jobs lasting between three and eleven years on my resume, but the changes of industry along the way wasn't helping my case. In a better economy, I could probably work my way in the door, but with so many out of work, there are lots of resumes out there with great experience for nearly every job opening.

I went through a couple of unsuccessful job searches while I was in San Diego. Initially, I was looking for a foot-in-the-door sort of job, a beginning position that could lead somewhere. Even with my accounting degree and experience in lending, I couldn't get a job as a bank teller. After failing to get a nine-to-five job of some sort, I decided to go back to restaurants. With eleven years of restaurant experience, I couldn't get a job as a waiter. It was pretty discouraging.

When I decided to move back, I didn't have a job lined up. After the failed job search in San Diego, I was open to most anything. I couldn't be too choosy. I just wanted something with a steady paycheck, and maybe some benefits. If I couldn't get a job that might start me on a career path, I wanted to at least shoot for a company that I believed in.

As I was drawing up a list of good northwest companies, I sent out an email blast to my family, and friends I had stayed in close contact with. Though I had little to back it up, I figured it would be easier to find work back in Seattle, where I had more long-term work connections. I also threw out a message on Facebook. I told everyone that I was moving back, and that if anyone knew a company that was hiring...

I have mentioned before, I have found myself defending Facebook lately. For the past three years, it has kept me in touch with friends both near and far. Now I have one more reason to appreciate it. I found my new job there.

A friend I went to college with has a CPA firm, and he needed a staff accountant. I was completely honest with Steve, and told him that I was 15 years gone from my last accounting position, and even that one didn't translate many applicable skills to his firm. He understood, but believed that those accounting lessons we had learned together so long ago would come forth, and more importantly he trusted me as a person, and that is hard to quantify on a resume. Steve and I actually come from the same, "If there's time to lean, there's time to clean" school of work ethic, picked up during our mutual stint at McDonald's in high school.

As a side note, I have always wanted to answer the interview question of what sets me apart by simply saying, "I actually give a shit." I have worked with so many people who just don't care. Whether I am flipping burgers, digging holes, or representing a client, I take my job seriously and want to do the best I can. I won't tell you I am going to give a 110%, but I am always shooting for a hundred.

So here I am, back in Seattle, returning to a job I never really had. There have definitely been challenges these past months, scraping 20 year's worth of rust off those old lessons, but  I am excited for this opportunity. As suspected, who you know can trump what you know, and I feel very fortunate to have the door opened so I could get my foot in. Now that it is open, I want to kick enough ass to show that this trust was well deserved.

However

I was listening to the Grammar Girl podcast on the way home today. The subject was the word "however", and whether or not it is acceptable to start a sentence with it (spoiler alert, it is).

She started with a couple of examples where there is little dispute, instances where the word is not used as a connector with a meaning of  "nevertheless" or "but". The times you can use "however" to start a sentence without causing a ruckus is when it means “to whatever extent,” or “no matter how.”

For some reason, the two examples she gave made me pause the recording and write them down.

“However beautiful the strategy, you should occasionally look at the results."
~ Winston Churchill

“However bad you think you’re going to be in that room, not being there is worse.”
~ Dr. Foreman from the TV show House

Strangely familiar roads

Much remains the same, but things have changed.

I will be driving along, headed on a random errand, and I will turn a familiar corner and not recognize it. What was a low group of stores with one of the last remaining bagel shops, is now a three story mix of retail and condominium  A large garage has replaced the park and ride lot, hopefully implying more people are hopping on the bus these days. 

There are places with more meaningful connection that I haven't made time to visit yet, but I still stumble upon memories small and large just the same. I went out for another bike ride this past Sunday. We started along the Burke-Gilman path, a place I have biked and run a hundred times, but since we are training for the Chilly Hilly, we veered off and headed to the hills. We tackled Norway hill first, one of the eight hills on the S.O.B. ride from 2007. I am still several rides from good form, but my legs haven't entirely lost their muscle memory. 

Joe was in charge of the route, so after enjoying zipping down the other side of Norway, I wasn't sure where we were headed. We rode south toward Kirkland past a Juanita neighborhood more built-up than I remembered. We resisted the pull of the new coffee shop and made the right turn toward the next hill. 

I can't remember the last time I had been up this road, but I wasn't more than a few hundred feet before some random memories pushed forward. There was a parking lot where my car wouldn't start some 20 years ago. There was an apartment that I could completely visualize the interior, without remembering why I knew the place. A mile farther up the hill was a turn off to where a friend used to live, a place that seemed so remote when I visited it a single time 25 years ago. 

The hill was longer than I remembered. Of course that's no surprise with how random and suspect my memory seems to be. We rode past a wooded area with trees that looked like they hadn't seen full sunlight in those two decades. There wasn't much traffic out on Super Bowl Sunday, and the three of us climbed alone at our own pace, adding to the feeling I was farther away from civilization than I really was. 

As Hemingway said, “It is by riding a bicycle that you learn the contours of a country best, since you have to sweat up the hills and coast down them.” The physical effort tends to bring you into focus, and into the moment. The slower speed, and not being wrapped in steel and glass, also puts you into closer contact with your surroundings. And of course without the radio playing, you are left alone with your thoughts. 

And the random memories oddly tethered to the different, but strangely familiar landscape.

Frozen

I got nothing. My brain is fried.

Well that isn't exactly true. I have things, it is just that my brain is sort of full trying to learn on the fly at work. I am getting up earlier than my body is built for, and only see sunlight (what little there is) through the window at my office. When I get home each evening, I just don't have the mental space to write.

It feels a bit like an endless loop, this dark to dark routine, like the treadmill so hated by the runner. Much better to get outside where the random twists and turns keep your head up. With the days so short, I haven't been able to get out for a run during the week, and that isn't helping.

Each morning there is a new layer of frost on the windows. I had forgotten the many different textures of ice. Some days it slides right off like a light dusting, others I am going at it with an ax. A few mornings there was black ice, and the hill from the house was shut down. Luckily I remembered a back way out from my time running around with UPS.

Sierra wanders around the front yard while I thaw out the truck. With her fading sight, she jerks back when she moves from light to shadow, assuming the shadow means something is coming right at her. The other morning, the garbage truck pulled up, and the spinning yellow siren light had her flinching repeatedly. Some mornings are rougher than others.

I keep trying to tweak the routine to shave a minute here and there, but I think it will take longer days for me to get back out on the road. I did get out for a bike ride last weekend, though. I barely rode when I had endless sunshine and far more hours, but there I was pedaling in 30 degree weather. The tighter schedule may force me to make the time for a ride where I didn't before.

Weekends are going to start filling up with work as well, but I am going to do my best to grab the daylight when I can.

And write.

Ice scraper multi-tool

It has been cold. Not a Minnesota kinda cold, but still the kind of cold that makes you want to stay curled up in bed. There is a thermometer by the front door, and it read 26 degrees this morning. The grass crunched under Sierra's feet as she wandered around looking for her spot, and the truck was a block of ice.

The sheen of ice on all the windows adds ten minutes to my departure each morning, so I bought a cover for the windshield, and a plug-in heater to defrost the inside (my truck heater is terrible). The windshield cover is a shiny aluminum color, much like the cover I used to keep out the San Diego sun. So similar, and yet not at all the same.

The cover worked well, but the additional heater was pretty week. I would do better to plug in a cheap hair dryer, but the combination did save a little time and effort. I was headed off to watch the Seahawk game at a friend's house,and stopped by the library to drop off a book. When I went to leave, I didn't.

The key would not turn in the ignition. I had been worried about the engine turning over in the cold, but I couldn't even get to that point. I tried rocking the steering wheel back and forth, pulling the key out slightly to see if the tumblers would engage, staring angrily and gnashing my teeth, all to no avail.

After getting a ride home, and while watching the Seahawks fall tantalizingly short of winning, I searched for auto shops online. Before my drive from San Diego to Seattle, I joined AAA for a little automotive peace of mind. They would come tow my truck, but I needed to find a shop to tow it to. I found a couple close by, but of course none were open on a Sunday (much less playoff Sunday).

While I had the internet tubes up, I did a little surfing around to see if replacing a ignition cylinder was within my skill set. Previously, the internet has taught me how to fix a washer, take apart a dryer, replace a lock, snake a drain, and many other random projects around the house. From what I found, the first step in removing the lock cylinder is to turn it to the on position. That was out.

I kept surfing and found this video. It is only a minute long, but the gist of it is to put the key in the ignition, and then tap on the end of the key ten times with a rubber mallet, driving the key into the ignition. I didn't have a rubber mallet, so I used the ice scraper that has become all too handy lately. I hit it several times, tried the key, and nothing. I wasn't surprised, it did seem too simple.

So, I hit it a few more times just to be thorough, and I'll be damned, the key turned and the engine fired up. When people ask me to take a look at something that isn't working, I usually ask, "have you tried swearing or hitting it with a hammer?" Sometimes a hammer is the answer.

What a night for a sunrise

New Year's Eve was a quiet one as anticipated. I wasn't even sure I was going to stay up until midnight, but then the local coverage came on, and I stayed up to watch the Space Needle erupt in fireworks. It was a good show, but I was happy to watch it from the comfort of my couch.

This morning, there was an air of hangover in the house, but strangely it was the pets having a rough go of it. One had pooped the bed, and the other one hurled on the deck. Not sure what sort of partying they did after we went to bed, but they are getting too old to bounce back the next morning.

After feeding her breakfast, I let Sierra out front. The air was clean, and the sky clear of any clouds to blanket in any heat. The temperature gauge read 28 degrees, and rooftops and windshields were covered in a layer of clean, white frost. The grass crunched under the pooch's feet as she wandered around looking for the right place to mark her spot. The cold air knocked away the cobwebs of a short night of sleep, but it was nice not to wake up with a headache like so many past first day's of the year.

I waited until mid-day, and a temperature bump to 39 degrees, before lacing up my shoes for the first run of the year. It was still chilly, and I found myself running on the sunny side of the street to avoid the colder shade. I haven't been running much since the big weekend in November, and it was nice to be back out on the roads this morning.

Work is going to get much busier in the coming weeks. My boss joked that we should enjoy our last day off for the next four months (at least I hope he was joking). It is going to be harder to get out for a run, but I am going to try my best to sneak out when I can. It will likely mean running in the dark, on more nights of short sleep, so I am doubly glad I took it easy last night to enjoy the sunshine today.

What a night for a sunrise...

New Year's Eve

It is funny how much focus there is in flipping the calendar page from December to January. Such an arbitrary line, but adding a digit to the year seems to imply massive change. We vow to do things differently, and change our lives for the better.

Of course this year's calendar flip might have some national significance. It is no fabricated, Mayan end-of-the-world situation, but the "fiscal cliff" is certainly getting its own hype. I haven't heard the latest, but my guess is that our legislators will slap on a small band aid before the clock strikes midnight, and kick the can of hard decisions down the road a bit. Not sure that things will be made "better" anytime soon.

That said, each year (hell, each day) has significance. There are some that went well, and some we would like to leave permanently in the rear-view-mirror. Most of us didn't take the time to relish the good times while they happened, and they can get buried in the awful news of the day. The last 365 days can become a blur, though those that put out a Christmas letter each year have at least gone through the exercise of reviewing the highlights.

As I have mentioned before, for a decade I spent New Year's Eve working at restaurant, followed by a celebration with a bunch of friends in the bar as the calendar made its flip. The last few years, it has been a quieter celebration with Matt, Holly and Kristy in San Diego, followed by breakfast and a day at Dog Beach to start the new year.

2009 was a tough year, and as we clicked over into 2010, I made the decision to move down to San Diego to start over. The time down there was a period of recovery and growth, and for 2011 I actually made some specific resolutions. The 30 day rotation was an interesting experiment, and proved that even moving from month to month can bring improvement. 2011 also brought someone special into my life, and that was the best turn in the road.

Now I am back in Seattle, and as we move on into 2013, I am starting over once again. Life 3.0, or whatever number I am up to now. I have a new job back in my home state (which I really need to write about), and I am getting my feet back on solid ground. I haven't made any resolutions for the new year just yet, but like most, fitness, friends and finances will be major themes.

Though 2013 will likely be a year of change, the actual night of New Year's Eve is sort of a non-event this year. Just another Monday this time around. Maybe with all the hype about the Mayans and the cliff, I just wanted to ignore the end of a calendar page, or tablet.

Some of the best parts of any year are the times spent with friends, and New Year's Eve was always a good excuse. Part of me misses the party atmosphere of the Keg celebrations, and another part the quiet gathering with friends of more recent years. And of course I'll miss the kiss at midnight.

Merry Christmas

Christmas Eve

I can't believe Christmas is only an hour away. December always flies by, but this year it felt like the fastest one yet. It seems universal, like some alternate theory of relativity, that time speeds up as we grow older. Where Christmas couldn't get here soon enough when we were children, now there never seems to be enough time to get it all done.

As a kid, there wasn't much to do other than wait for gifts to arrive magically, but of course as an adult, you have a hand in making that magic happen. Though I am busier with work this year, the season rushing by has less to do with lack of time, and more about fewer markers on the path to the big day.

There are a thousand little parts of the season that add up to the whole. An afternoon spent picking out, or even cutting down the perfect tree. Listening to Christmas music while you decorate it with all the ornaments that bring back memories of places and faces in your life. Stringing up lights on the house, and hooking them up to a timer so you come home each night to a house aglow. Pulling out your favorite Christmas movies, films you seen dozens of times, but that still pluck at your heartstrings each time. Mulling some wine, baking cookies, or making and breaking a gingerbread house. Carving out a spare moment to meet a friend for coffee, or just give them a call to let them know you are thinking about them.

Tomorrow will be wonderful. The morning will be spent at my parent's home with my brother, and of course the traditional coffee cake for breakfast. In the evening, we will head to my cousin's for dinner with my ever-expanding extended family. Thirty or so people I dearly love, most of whom I haven't seen since last Christmas.

As wonderful as the day will be, it stills feels like I let the season slip by almost unnoticed this year. The anticipation of the day is part of the joy, like a child wondering all month what will appear under the tree Christmas morning. This year, without all those small traditions leading up to the big day, it feels like Christmas arrived more like a surprise party.

The magic of Christmas doesn't just happen like it did when we were kids. More than gifts, those hundred little traditions bring even more texture and joy to the holiday, turning an already beautiful day into a wonderful season. I dropped the ball this year, and truth be told, for the last few. I hope you all were able to make time for whatever traditions make this holiday special, and that you are blessed with friends and family to share it with tomorrow.

Merry Christmas.

...and first day of winter.

Happy 13th baktun everybody!

Lyrics of the day

And now my heart stumbles on things I don't know.
This weakness I feel I must finally show.

In these bodies we will live, in these bodies we will die.
Where you invest your love, you invest your life.

~"Awake My Soul" by Mumford & Sons

Adjusting

I have been back in the Pacific Northwest for three weeks now, and there have been some definite adjustments, but Seattle felt like home again relatively quickly.

Naturally, the weather is the most glaring for this particular switch of home base. Moving from "The Best Climate on Earth" to the rainy northwest, particularly in November was a kind of jarring change. The shorts and flip flops will be as rare as pants and jackets were in San Diego. I also managed to lose my sunglasses the day before I left, and sad to say I haven't needed them much.

I can remember flying back one summer and noticing how gray everything seemed. The colors just seemed a little washed out after spending a year in the sunshine. Since I drove up this time, the transition was a little more gradual, and now it is just part of the landscape. I don't feel the need for one of those Seasonal Affective Disorder lamps, so it seems that the rain never left my bloodstream

One thing that is pretty much the same about December in San Diego and Seattle - there isn't much need to check the weather forecast. You already know what is coming. It does make you appreciate when the clouds finally part, though, and the hillsides are lit up in brilliant fall colors.

Sierra still gets me up at the same time each day, though it is now by my alarm clock instead of her happy panting or clicking nails. My room is on the second floor, and the only way she would make it up the two flights of stairs is if I carried her. For the first five years I had her, she slept out in the living room rather than in the bedroom. She would hop up on the couch as soon as I left the room (we both pretended not to notice). In the mornings, she would generally wait quietly at the bedroom door, emitting the occasional heavy sigh if I slept in a bit. Once she heard the alarm clock though, all bets were off.

When we were down in San Diego, she slept in my bedroom instead. With no door between us, she was less patient when it came to breakfast time. She would wake me bright and early whether it was a weekend or not, and more than any job, this was what finally had me getting to bed at a decent hour. Back in Washington again, she is back to sleeping in the living room, though she is long past being able to hop on the couch.

I was a little worried how this would work out. With the health issues and declining eyesight, she has been known to panic when she feels lost or out of sorts. I imagined cries or yelps for the first few evenings, but she did pretty well from the start. She has had to learn a new house layout, but she seemed to figure that out in a day or two. I set an alarm every morning so her meal of diabetic dog food hits her system on schedule, but she has still had a number of hypoglycemic crashes. I guess she hasn't adjusted entirely.

When I moved down to San Diego after a lifetime in Seattle, I was surprised how easy the transition was. It helped to have great friends there waiting for me, but there was still a whole new city to map out. Coming back home, my own layout is much more familiar, and I haven't had to feel my way around as much. We're both transitioning pretty well, though now and again we both bounce off a wall that wasn't there before.

Quote of the day

What an astonishing thing a book is. It's a flat object made from a tree with flexible parts on which are imprinted lots of funny dark squiggles. But one glance at it and you're inside the mind of another person, maybe somebody dead for thousands of years. Across the millennia, an author is speaking clearly and silently inside your head, directly to you. Writing is perhaps the greatest of human inventions, binding together people who never knew each other, citizens of distant epochs. Books break the shackles of time. A book is proof that humans are capable of working magic.

~Carl Sagan

Seattle Marathon

Goofier Challenge, day two.

Wow.

When the alarm went off at 5:30am, I had already been awake for a few minutes. As I swung out of bed, I wondered what it would feel like when my feet hit the floor. How bad would it hurt, and was I really prepared to run another 26.2 miles. I was definitely stiff, and the heels of my feet were pretty sore, but there were no sharp pains. A good start. 

After taking care of the pooch and getting myself put together, I hit the road two hours before the start of the marathon. Even though the normal drive time was 40 minutes, two hours almost wasn't enough. Traffic was fine until I got off the freeway, but then it took an hour to move about a mile. Five cars away from making the turn to the parking garage, they closed that street. Then I made it another block before they shut down the next street to let the half marathoners run by. I was stuck in place for 20 minutes as my own start time ticked closer. 

After finding parking and walking to the start, I had five minutes to hit the restroom and hop the fence to get in the starting chute. Unfortunately, there wasn't time to find Brett, so I didn't know if he was queued up already, stuck in traffic, or still at home nursing an injury. The gun went off and we started shuffling to the start line. While we were still walking, I spotted a gal who was serving beer at yesterday's finish line. Volunteering for one marathon, running the next. We wished each other luck and headed out. 

Once moving, both my right shin and achilles tendon started to hurt. I have had troubles with the tendon off and on all year, but the shin pain was new. Just like yesterday, the plan was just to run at a pace that felt natural, and take the day as it came. Of course with 26 miles already in the tank, I had no idea what I was in for. 

It was colder than yesterday, and very foggy. On the drive in, a blanket of fog curled over the 520 floating bridge like a slowly crashing wave. As we ran through downtown, the fog added an extra mystical feel to the white lights in the trees that lined 5th Avenue. The fog would remain most of the day, blocking out all the great views I enjoyed yesterday. It was difficult to even see the water from the bridge or lakeside path.

Minutes later, I caught up to a woman I recognized from yesterday's race. She was doing the full Quadzilla, so this was her fourth marathon in four days. We chatted briefly, wished each other well, and disappeared into the crowd. I had run into her at the Seattle expo the afternoon before, and would see her one more time as I drove past the course after I finished. Weird coincidences in a crowd of thousands of runners. 

After leaving downtown, we headed over the I-90 floating bridge. This is a long stretch with little to look at, so I watched the faster runners coming the other way. The weird, random sightings continued as I spotted a friend I hadn't seen in a decade. She was walking the marathon, so I figured I would catch up with her later, but when I was actually looking for her, she passed by unseen. 

After making the turn, I saw Brett heading east. I crossed the road and we gave each other a low five. I was glad to see he had made it, and even though we weren't running together, it was encouraging to know he was out there as well. I would see him one more time on the long out and back on the lake road, and he looked even better by mile 10.

Much of the rest of the day was a bit of a blur. After getting off the bridge, the next 11 miles were on the same course we ran twice yesterday. We were running through a bank of fog, with blinders up blocking out the scenery, and my mind fell into a similar sort of tunnel. I tried not to think about much more than putting one foot in front of the other, fell into a rhythm and sort of zoned out.

Halfway around Seward Park, we reached the halfway mark of the race as well. There was a mat and a big clock at the 13.1 mile mark, and it showed that I had just run the first half in just under two hours. I was blown away. It felt like I was doing pretty well, but this was faster than either half of yesterday's race. 

Going in, I had no idea what a second marathon in two days would be like. There was no goal other than to do my best. I would have been very happy with a 4:30 finish, and I would be ecstatic if I could match the 4:15 from yesterday. Here I was seven minutes ahead of my dream time pace. If I could keep this time cushion, I could still net a good time with the walking I felt was inevitable. The four hour pace team was just ahead of me, and I just tried to keep them in sight.

At mile 20, the course leaves the lake road and heads uphill. Sharply. The first block is very steep, and I knew I couldn't run it much faster than a walk, so I walked. A left turn onto Madison and the road was still uphill, but I was running again. The pace group would disappear, and then I would reel them in. Up and down for the next three miles, though mostly up, and I lost sight of them by mile 23. I was more than spent, but kept pressing. 

A mile from the finish the road headed downhill, but so steeply that it was difficult to navigate. As a final insult, there is climb out of an underpass at mile 26. I ran about a third of the way up before deciding to walk the rest, hoping for a strong finish. Running again, there were only a few steps to go. I was mentally fuzzy, but the thought popped in my head that I don't get as emotional at finish lines as I used to. As soon as I turned the next corner though, it was all over. 

The course finishes inside Memorial Stadium, and soon as I entered the finishing chute I began to lose it. When my feet touched the field, I was completely gone. I was overwhelmed by the moment - running around my home city after three years away, the miles of the weekend, the effort I had put into finishing, and a finish time I didn't think possible. I was blinking back tears as I found a little something to sprint to the finish. The clock read just over four hours as I broke the imaginary tape. 

I walked through the finish area, unable to catch my breath. I had not only finished my second marathon in two days, but I had somehow cut 15 minutes off of my dream time. 4:00:11 on worn legs. I was just blown away, and I alternated between tears and crazy laughter. Relief and pride. Pushing up against my limits, and then to keep pushing. 

After walking around the recovery area, working my way out of delirium, I made my way back to my car. The pain was really setting in now, and the half mile walk felt particularly long. I was meeting friends in Bothell for a belated Thanksgiving Day celebration, and wasn't able to meet up with Brett afterward. Looking at our finish times, we both had surprising days. We both ran very steady races, each of us running the second half within a minute or two of the first half. Brett actually ran the hillier second half a minute faster. That is some great running.

It was an incredible day and weekend. Over 52 miles in a 28 hour period. To not only avoid breaking, but doing better than I could have imagined. Running with a few hundred, and then a few thousand. Running with a friend, and then running alone in the fog, but still seeing familiar faces. What a crazy experience.  

Ghost of Seattle Marathon

Goofier challenge, day one.

It has rained cats and dogs, buckets and tubs of water since I returned to Washington. After a near record dry spell over the summer, it felt like Seattle was trying to catch up on three months worth of rain in a single week. Running two marathons was going to be hard enough without sideways rain thrown into the mix.

As race day got closer, the forecast improved incrementally, and Brett and I were treated to near perfect weather this morning - temperature in the low 40s, clouds but no rain, and a bit of sunshine breaking through at the end. There was a open flame heater at the start line, and a few runners were huddled around it, but it was perfect running weather.

Brett and I set off together, and ran side by side for the first 13 miles. We hadn't seen each other in years, so we traded stories about family, work, running and other adventures. Though we weren't burning up the clock, the miles went by relatively quickly with the easy conversation.

Since neither of us had attempted running marathons back to back, we had no real clue as to how to approach day one. I figured I would run at a comfortable pace, similar to what I would do on a long training run, and just see how the day went. I had a rough thought that running a half hour slower than my best back in January was a good plan, but it was kind of a shot in the dark. And as I found out at the marathon a few weeks ago, going slower than you are capable is no guarantee of an easier day. You aren't as short of breath, but your body hurts just as much, if not more.

The marathon was two loops of the same course, so we ran through the finish at half way. Brett and I split up after that, ready to run the pace that felt best for each of us. The route first heads south and loops around Seward Park.

The road around the park was just off the water, but also bracketed by trees in many places. With only 300 or so runners, we had the roads mostly to ourselves as we made our way round.

After a 3.5 mile loop around the park, the route heads north for a long out-and-back run along Lake Washington. The paths were a little more congested in this section because you had runners going in either direction, but it was still far from crowded. Not overly worried about my finish time, I stopped and took a few more photos of the lake and fall colors.

With the long out-and-back run being run twice, it was easy to recognize faces as they passed by multiple times. Also, with relatively few people running the marathon, there was a certain extra camaraderie, and words of encouragement passed freely back and forth. As usual, things got a little quieter near the end as the fatigue and soreness mounted, but there were still smiles and nods.

All the muscles in my legs grew tighter, and certain pains would not be ignored, but I was able to hold off a crash at the end. I crossed the finish line in 4:15:17, almost exactly a half hour slower than my January time. I also ran my first ever negative split, running the second half about five minutes faster than the first. Brett came in a little bit later, and I was able to get my phone out in time for one last shot.

Brett and I hung out at the finish line and shared more stories over a cold beer. I also took a quick walk into the lake to get some cold water on my sore muscles. I am hoping that the natural ice bath will help reduce the swelling and help prepare my weary legs for tomorrow's challenge.

Today was a great run. Good weather, nice conversation, a scenic route and a relatively strong finish. I am sure tomorrow will be much harder, but so far so good. If I make it to the finish, I can use my finisher medal to crack open a celebration beer.