This looks like a job for....

Bev and I are working this week. When we are off, we invite the boys, David and Max, to spend Friday night with us. Since that was impossible this week, I took the boys to the municipal pool this morning for a treat. Then we would later go to lunch at Burger King so they could play in the "play-place".

The fun started about 30 minutes after we'd gotten into the pool. David had found a playmate and they were out a little deeper than Max. But Max wanted to join in with the bigger kids. Max worked his way out further and further by staying up on tip-toes until the water was up to his nose. Then he went a little further so that he could only catch a breath when he made little bounds. And then with a misplaced bound, he went further than he intended and now the water line was up over his eyebrows. Now as he bounds I can see he can't quite get his nose above water. As I quickly start across the pool, I can see surprise in Max's eyes and his rapid bounds take him a little further away and a bit deeper. With David right beside him, but unaware of his difficulty, I call to him to help his brother. I call a second time, but he still hasn't noticed Max. With my third call, he turns, scoops Max by the waist, and lifts him up out of the water. I can see water running out of ears, and eyes, and nose, and mouth.

Of course, I was closing the gap as I spoke. I was only a step away as David lifted him clear and had him in my arms in a flash. With water still streaming off him, I borrowed a page from my friend Coach Dan Perkins. Using the same unruffled approach as Coach I asked, "Max, are you trying to drink my pool?" Then I said, "If you do, we're going to have to get the hose out and fill it up again." It worked as well with Max as it did with Coach Perkins' daughter all those years ago. He told me that he needed to see him Mommy so I put him out on the side and asked him to come back in when he was ready. In less than a minute, he was back playing in the SHALLOW end.

Later at lunch I praised David for "saving" his brother. An exaggeration, I don't think so. I was on my way to succor him but it was David that lifted him to air. Could the time it took me to take those 2 final steps made a difference? Perhaps. I felt this was a teaching moment. One where his role as big brother could be defined and reinforced. A moment for him to see that being a hero was within his grasp.

(When called upon to save Max, you should have seen how he lifted him. Superman couldn't have done better.)

Sticking...

The past few days have gone pretty well. I don't crave the junk that I was feasting on for the past few months. I wonder if the change of stress has done something. It had gotten pretty intense. Perhaps it isn't the primary reason, but the energy it consumed took strength that I needed in other areas. Of course, the vision of my weight hanging around my belly gives me some drive to get it gone. What can I do. I am not going to be a real physical specimen at my age. I can only be as healthy as I can and live with those parameters. Like the interest in running an ultra-marathon. Why? But then again, why not? Attempt a triathlon? Why not? But the first step has to be getting the goop factor down to 190 lbs. Just no sense in hauling an extra 20 lbs of lard over the hills and dells.

What it takes...

I seem to have put my resolve firmly into place. I've been close to getting myself down to a good measurement  several times now but failed when I relaxed my hold on my impulses. Will this time be different? Not sure. But there are goals I want to achieve in the short and longer term. First of all, I don't want to head up to Michigan with my belly hanging out like it was last week. I am down to 2 pair of long pants that fit comfortably. Just a short time ago, I was almost ready to move into 34 waist pants. If I am strong, I can drop 10 lbs by the time we fly out of Birmingham. The next in the series of long term goals would be to be lighter for cycling and, more importantly, my ultramarathon training. I want to do the Sylaward by mid-October, then of course I want to run at least half of Todd's Ultra in February. So although my main desire is to see the pounds melt off, I am really concerned about being able to do the training for those events without knee problems. Diet alone won't be enough. Some form of exercise each morning along with disciplined eating every day will be required.

But I have begun.

Becoming less...

Perhaps it was the stress. Perhaps it was the disruption to schedule. Whatever the reason, I have gained back quite a few pounds this year and it is time to do something about it. That becomes essential when I remember I am considering an Ultramarathon in February. Between now and then, I have to dedicate myself to that process. Over the last 2 months, I have worked on my swimming technique till now I feel very confident swimming freestyle. My shoulders are stronger. I was doing some really good technique for breathing while in Florida last week. Swimming in the ocean is much easier than swimming in freshwater. So today was my first day of returning to my eating program. Tomorrow will be riding with perhaps a swim if Paul calls. Then more abdominal exercise.

A profound quiet...

I've gone through my life quietly, probably a result of my early training. My Grandmother Odessa shared her Native American perspective of the natural world with me. In it, people lived with the land. You could only experience the fullness of nature if you learned to be stealthy, invisible, and quiet. I practiced my art hiding along the trail to her house. Sometimes I was hidden so completely, I could have touched her from my hiding place yet remained undetected. From there, my Dad helped develop in me the skills of a hunter. He taught me how to hold myself in close control. Not to sneeze or cough. How to place each footstep so no twig broke and leaves didn't crunch. How to use natural sounds to mask my movement. It taught me that quiet is valuable. I spent a lot of time in solitude with only my thoughts as company. I learned to be quiet in speech.I often had little to say unless in the presence of my most intimate friends. I spoke softly.  I listened to my own internal dialogue. But despite that quiet, there were always voices. Voices of the people who loved me, protected me, and nurtured me. And over the time of my life, one by one, these voices have been silenced. I remember when my Great Grandmother Lona died. My Dad consoled me by saying it was the way of things. The oldest generation precedes the younger. Or at least that's how we believe it should be. Then it was my Grandparents who passed. Then as if to defy the order of things, we lost David and my Father. We lost Rachel, the first of we 10 cousins. My dear Aunt Vester. After a long season, it was my Uncle Jack's time. And shortly after, our Aunt Fay. Then Uncle Jean. My Uncle's voice was so important to me because of the closeness he had with my Mom. With him gone, the loss was most noticeable because with Mother being almost a shut in, his calls and visits meant the world. She missed him very much.  Now, this month, the most significant voice of my life was silenced. And I must say, the quiet is profound. I think sometimes, my ear strains a bit, without conscious effort, to pick up the sound of a voice or a noise. But the quiet persists.

But I am not depressed or dismayed. Those sounds may be gone but there are new sounds to be heard. Our little children have grown up. Some have found mates. Children are born. With time we get to reconnect with old friends and make new ones. I have the voices of Max and David. Becky has little Challis. There will be others to come.

You see, life is like a symphony. Each instrument adds its note in time. And when the piece is played, the instrument is stilled and there is quiet. It is a powerful and joyful thing. Something to celebrate.

Mom

On July 8th 2010, my Mom passed away. I was due to arrive at the hospital within 15 to 20 minutes. But by all the accounts, she had a pretty good morning and she passed easily. All our family gathered including my cousins from South Carolina, D.C., and Washington State. Many friends and co-workers came by to pay respect and love. My cousin Joe Castleberry delivered her eulogy. We will all miss her so much.

Heart attack...

Mom had a heart attack on the 25th of June. Since then, I've been mostly here at UAB. Despite not having any prior symptoms that would have warned us of advancing heart disease, she had 3 vessels with 90 to 95 percent blockage. And significant blockage along the length of each artery. The only artery they could stent wasn't the one where the damage occurred.