I do not believe in confrontational engagements with doctors, nurses or hospital security. They have a job to do no matter what kind of discomfort it may create, cause or inflict on your body and soul. Like education, it can sometimes be a thankless venture. Notwithstanding, Dr. K, an MD in the Pain Clinic at Saint Joseph Hospital is a marked man. Even as all men with wooden legs do not behave like Long John Silver, so hopefully, not all doctors with a needle, behave like Dr. K.
After having my back surgery on my 2/3 disc in mid-August, I have not improved to a satisfactory point. I still have had a LOT of pain going down my left leg. My THIRD MRI, and THREE doctors opinions determined that there was no new damage, just scar tissue pressing on the root nerve thus creating the (albeit lesser than before) pain down my leg. So… almost eight weeks out of surgery, the doctors suggested I get a steroid shot in my back.
I went into the Pain Clinic thinking they would put me out a bit, but they needed me awake during this procedure (torture). First a numbing agent was administered (numbing what I am not sure) and then the exploratory needle painfully searched for the root nerve and then Dr. Death pulled the needle back just a smidge. It was at this point that dear Dr. Demise said, “Now this is going to give you some discomfort and pain but it will only be for about 5-10 seconds.” Here, I refer you to the title of this article. It was at this point that the steroid was injected into my back and EVERYONE (including St. Joseph, himself) in the WHOLE HOSPITAL knew, without a doubt, that Mr. Michael E. Munier, III was getting steroids injected into his system. My yelling was slightly interrupted by two nurses, one each on my starboard and port sides of the operating table, holding me down and whispering encouragement in my ears that the pain would subside within the decade. All I could do was believe them and imagined I was Jack Bauer in the TV Series “24” who ALWAYS seemed to survive his torture and punishment.
You ask, “Was the shot successful?” Yes it has been, yet not without some major side effects. I am walking without any significant pain right now, yet the first five days after the injection were quite difficult. Steroids and I do not get along. I had significant neurotic reactions to the drug, did not sleep for nearly two days and finally was given an anti-anxiety drug to counteract the drugs systemic effects. I am still CRAZY as a loon, but at least not ROIDS induced anymore.
My hope is the “roid” will give my body a chance to heal and I will be back to normal in another month or so. Frankly, I think it is a band-aid and I am probably headed into surgery again to clean up the scar tissue that is causing the distress. So, the intended catharsis from this unpleasant experience is very much a mystery at this time.
Your devout prayers to God would be much appreciated. Also, please supplicate for me if you pray to St. Joseph for any reason……I have not had the most pleasant thoughts towards that particular Saint for the last two weeks.
Sidebar: Have you ever wondered why some hospitals are named after saints? Maybe only half the hospital should be named after a saint… where all the compassion of wonderful nurses and doctors takes place and the other half should be named………oh, maybe….. after a world famous heavyweight fighter or a Ultimate Cage fighter or an alien predator. Can you envision the two doors and the two marquees? BTW: DR. K is really a nice guy doing a great job!
Hope to be running again………..soon,
Mikie
Ooops I did it again
Oops, I did it again, (Didn’t Britney Spears have a song that started like that?)
Those of you that know me well know I do not communicate some of my personal calamities (outside of my blog) to too many people…. Even my family has been significantly frustrated by that. I am pretty tough-minded (stubborn), don’t like to trouble people and am generally very private (stupid in some eyes). Frankly, I like it that way. Sorry if that may aggravate some of you at times, but it is who I am and I am not going to change.
Well, to cut to the chase, I had another lower back surgery on Wednesday evening, about 5pm. It was a “borderline emergency” or at least, from my point of view, a DEMAND surgery.
After running the San Francisco Half Marathon on July 25th, I returned to Denver with a bit more soreness on the LEFT side of my body and started to experience the same sciatica pain down my left side that I had had on my right side in November and December of this last year. As you know, I had a very successful surgery on December 29th and was a new man within days. I ran my first half marathon after surgery in April in Oklahoma and felt pretty good. I ran three more after that which included the San Francisco. I have completed 38 of these wonderful races.
Upon returning to Denver, I started helping Morgan and Amanda paint their new home and get some things moved in (plus, I am moving into their condo until it sells) but the sciatica pain started to increase. My doctor made the wise decision to have another MRI taken this last Friday. I was to receive results on Monday, but ended up in the ER Sunday morning with more pain than normal. That Doctor increased my meds but was also able to get his hands on my MRI results and I was made aware of the fact that I had herniated the left side of Lumbar 2/3 (the first injury was at 4/5). So, I was destined for therapy or another surgery. Being in the “superb” shape that I am in for a 60+year old stud, I took a few more drugs and just pressed on waiting for the process to play its self out.
Well……. Wednesday morning (about 2am) I had gotten up to get an ice pack for my hip/leg. I laid on that ice pack for probably an hour and proceeded to fall asleep upon it. At what I think was about 4am, I woke to pain in my leg that was the worst I had ever felt in my entire life. I tried to rub it out to no avail. I ended up calling an ambulance (NO ONE COULD HAVE GOTTEN ME DOWN THE STAIRS AND INTO A CAR) and had them transport me (with TWO morphine injections) to the hospital where my neurosurgeon works hoping he might take me into surgery that day!!!! As it turned out (yes, there is a God), his associate took me as his last surgery for the day at 5pm. I am sorry that I did not notify anyone except my dear friend Holly Hensey who lives about four miles from the hospital and knows how to interpret my morphine laden instructions. Calling just about anyone else at four in the morning seemed stupid especially when you consider how far St. Joseph’s Medical center is from the suburbs. It was kind of fun waking Hensey up in the middle of the night anyway.
I was released to the Department of Corrections by noon, yesterday (Thursday)and I am proud to say I am moving around fine, don’t need anything and am just about ready to move into my new digs at Morgan and Amanda’s condo. I am moving a little bit slower than the previous surgery but not by much. This one was a little more complicated. I have already made trips to the store, had a coffee at my favorite coffee house and plan on a normal weekend (except I will miss an Eagle Scout Court of Honor I was to speak at but have sent the script to be read my someone else). Bottom-line, I am just Ducky!!!
My future marathon career is certainly in doubt, but I am going on record that I will complete at least 50 within the next year or two, even if I have to walk or crawl them. The 100 mark may have to go by the wayside, but I do have a few creative ideas on a new quest of competing to complete 50 of SOMETHING whether it be 50 mini-triathlons, 50-fifty mile bike races (which would be kind of equivalent to a half marathon), or just get out and walk 655 miles (50 X 13.1= 655 miles) over a 30 day vacation and raise money for research on deranged Lebanese men over 60 with apparent death wishes!!! I don’t know….. But stay tuned. Once the back is really healed, the quest will begin.
Thanks for all your support over the last four years and 38 completed halves. Also, thank you for trying to understanding my lunacy and privacy, as strange as it all sounds. Hey, I am almost 61 years old and I am just going to have to do it “MY WAY.”
Mikie (in recuperation stage) Marathoner
Those of you that know me well know I do not communicate some of my personal calamities (outside of my blog) to too many people…. Even my family has been significantly frustrated by that. I am pretty tough-minded (stubborn), don’t like to trouble people and am generally very private (stupid in some eyes). Frankly, I like it that way. Sorry if that may aggravate some of you at times, but it is who I am and I am not going to change.
Well, to cut to the chase, I had another lower back surgery on Wednesday evening, about 5pm. It was a “borderline emergency” or at least, from my point of view, a DEMAND surgery.
After running the San Francisco Half Marathon on July 25th, I returned to Denver with a bit more soreness on the LEFT side of my body and started to experience the same sciatica pain down my left side that I had had on my right side in November and December of this last year. As you know, I had a very successful surgery on December 29th and was a new man within days. I ran my first half marathon after surgery in April in Oklahoma and felt pretty good. I ran three more after that which included the San Francisco. I have completed 38 of these wonderful races.
Upon returning to Denver, I started helping Morgan and Amanda paint their new home and get some things moved in (plus, I am moving into their condo until it sells) but the sciatica pain started to increase. My doctor made the wise decision to have another MRI taken this last Friday. I was to receive results on Monday, but ended up in the ER Sunday morning with more pain than normal. That Doctor increased my meds but was also able to get his hands on my MRI results and I was made aware of the fact that I had herniated the left side of Lumbar 2/3 (the first injury was at 4/5). So, I was destined for therapy or another surgery. Being in the “superb” shape that I am in for a 60+year old stud, I took a few more drugs and just pressed on waiting for the process to play its self out.
Well……. Wednesday morning (about 2am) I had gotten up to get an ice pack for my hip/leg. I laid on that ice pack for probably an hour and proceeded to fall asleep upon it. At what I think was about 4am, I woke to pain in my leg that was the worst I had ever felt in my entire life. I tried to rub it out to no avail. I ended up calling an ambulance (NO ONE COULD HAVE GOTTEN ME DOWN THE STAIRS AND INTO A CAR) and had them transport me (with TWO morphine injections) to the hospital where my neurosurgeon works hoping he might take me into surgery that day!!!! As it turned out (yes, there is a God), his associate took me as his last surgery for the day at 5pm. I am sorry that I did not notify anyone except my dear friend Holly Hensey who lives about four miles from the hospital and knows how to interpret my morphine laden instructions. Calling just about anyone else at four in the morning seemed stupid especially when you consider how far St. Joseph’s Medical center is from the suburbs. It was kind of fun waking Hensey up in the middle of the night anyway.
I was released to the Department of Corrections by noon, yesterday (Thursday)and I am proud to say I am moving around fine, don’t need anything and am just about ready to move into my new digs at Morgan and Amanda’s condo. I am moving a little bit slower than the previous surgery but not by much. This one was a little more complicated. I have already made trips to the store, had a coffee at my favorite coffee house and plan on a normal weekend (except I will miss an Eagle Scout Court of Honor I was to speak at but have sent the script to be read my someone else). Bottom-line, I am just Ducky!!!
My future marathon career is certainly in doubt, but I am going on record that I will complete at least 50 within the next year or two, even if I have to walk or crawl them. The 100 mark may have to go by the wayside, but I do have a few creative ideas on a new quest of competing to complete 50 of SOMETHING whether it be 50 mini-triathlons, 50-fifty mile bike races (which would be kind of equivalent to a half marathon), or just get out and walk 655 miles (50 X 13.1= 655 miles) over a 30 day vacation and raise money for research on deranged Lebanese men over 60 with apparent death wishes!!! I don’t know….. But stay tuned. Once the back is really healed, the quest will begin.
Thanks for all your support over the last four years and 38 completed halves. Also, thank you for trying to understanding my lunacy and privacy, as strange as it all sounds. Hey, I am almost 61 years old and I am just going to have to do it “MY WAY.”
Mikie (in recuperation stage) Marathoner
San Francisco Half Marathon, July 25, 2010, San Francisco, California
Race Number 38
My life as an evangelist for running half marathons began three years ago, when I ran this particular half marathon, in foggy and misty San Francisco. I stood in my starting wave, getting ready to start my ninth half marathon with no specific goal in mind as to how many marathons I might run in my lifetime. My-o-my, how things changed that day.
As I lined up for the race today, with 20,000 other runners, I reflected back to that event of three years ago.... there I was, trying to warm myself in the cold San Francisco air, standing in front of two men chatting with one another. Both men were excited about the race but one of the men was expressing his phobia of BRIDGES. That period of ease-dropping plus a deep belly laugh in the hotel room with my son, Cameron, (we had just returned from touring a few wineries in Napa Valley), birthed this blog you have been subjected to for the last three years. You may enjoy reading part of my post of that special day, again. I have conveniently linked part of the July 2007 post onto a page that can be retrieved by hitting the link above this post entitled "An Exert from my blog post, July 2007...." I am ashamed to say, I made tragic fun of this poor man's phobia.... but, oh it was soooooo fun!!!
Running in San Francisco is special, without a doubt. The mere mention of San Francisco tends to make most of us imagine a special destination. It is often spoken of as one of the most charming cities in the world. I certainly experienced that on this trip. I spent part of my day at the Farmer's Market on the Embarcadero, listening to a variety of languages, sampling unusual foods (including, of course, oysters, some fine chocolate and exquisite jams) and listening to musicians play many different instruments including the oboe, the violin, kettle drums, ukuleles, guitars and the saxophone. My dinner was taken at the La Fitte Restaurant where I was expertly served by three beautiful waitresses (maybe they felt sorry for the charming Lebanese man who dined alone). I ordered an unusual pasta dish: It was Roasted Spaghetti in a Olive Oil Nettle sauce (it was green...seriously) with a mushroom, that I was unfamiliar with and had at least 15 letters in its name. I finished my pre-race meal with a wonderful Peach Tart and some French-pressed coffee. OH MY! Add to that, my table allowed me to view Coit Tower, the San Francisco Bay and a tremendous amount of foot traffic that made the people watching aspect of this adventure intriguing.
The race itself was wonderful. The weather was overcast, in the high 50's with very little wind. I ran very strong up to mile ten. The course turned into a leg shredder at that point with the last three miles comprised of 5% rolling hills.
Even with this special experience in San Francisco, Shakespeare's Macbeth may have had it right after all: Is life a tale "told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing?" Well, enter stage right, the Idiot, Mikie Marathoner, with lots of sound and fury in his impetuous blog trying to accomplish a goal that, in the long run, probably means nothing.... except for the shiny medals and the resident pain in the legs, feet and especially the lower back. It may be time for this old man to reconsider his goal, or at least modify it. Ten half marathons a year may be more than I can bear without proper training (which has been limited in the last six months), weekly massages (which I never do) and sponsorship from Nike, Fed-Ex or whomever (which will NEVER happen). Maybe 100 marathons by my Seventieth birthday would be more sane. Or..... I might strike it lucky - ("lucky" here is defined as "uncharacteristically strong, no pain, with carefree abandon and a super positive attitude") and be able to recover better in the future and accomplish my original goal. We shall see.
Time: 2:24:05
Prayer List: Miles 1-3: Two-year old, Shelby Griffin, who has returned home after three and a half months in the hospital. Miles 4-6: Fred Sanders, my step-father. He is battling cancer with the attitude of a true Marine! Miles 7-9: My brother, John who is still trying to recover from three years of disease in his colon. Miles 10-13: Mike Nolan, the Interim Principal at my beloved Jefferson Academy. Mike took the leadership responsibilities for "my" school and I have prayed that his learning curve would be smooth and blessed as he serves a very special community that I miss, very, very, very much.
My life as an evangelist for running half marathons began three years ago, when I ran this particular half marathon, in foggy and misty San Francisco. I stood in my starting wave, getting ready to start my ninth half marathon with no specific goal in mind as to how many marathons I might run in my lifetime. My-o-my, how things changed that day.
As I lined up for the race today, with 20,000 other runners, I reflected back to that event of three years ago.... there I was, trying to warm myself in the cold San Francisco air, standing in front of two men chatting with one another. Both men were excited about the race but one of the men was expressing his phobia of BRIDGES. That period of ease-dropping plus a deep belly laugh in the hotel room with my son, Cameron, (we had just returned from touring a few wineries in Napa Valley), birthed this blog you have been subjected to for the last three years. You may enjoy reading part of my post of that special day, again. I have conveniently linked part of the July 2007 post onto a page that can be retrieved by hitting the link above this post entitled "An Exert from my blog post, July 2007...." I am ashamed to say, I made tragic fun of this poor man's phobia.... but, oh it was soooooo fun!!!
Running in San Francisco is special, without a doubt. The mere mention of San Francisco tends to make most of us imagine a special destination. It is often spoken of as one of the most charming cities in the world. I certainly experienced that on this trip. I spent part of my day at the Farmer's Market on the Embarcadero, listening to a variety of languages, sampling unusual foods (including, of course, oysters, some fine chocolate and exquisite jams) and listening to musicians play many different instruments including the oboe, the violin, kettle drums, ukuleles, guitars and the saxophone. My dinner was taken at the La Fitte Restaurant where I was expertly served by three beautiful waitresses (maybe they felt sorry for the charming Lebanese man who dined alone). I ordered an unusual pasta dish: It was Roasted Spaghetti in a Olive Oil Nettle sauce (it was green...seriously) with a mushroom, that I was unfamiliar with and had at least 15 letters in its name. I finished my pre-race meal with a wonderful Peach Tart and some French-pressed coffee. OH MY! Add to that, my table allowed me to view Coit Tower, the San Francisco Bay and a tremendous amount of foot traffic that made the people watching aspect of this adventure intriguing.
The race itself was wonderful. The weather was overcast, in the high 50's with very little wind. I ran very strong up to mile ten. The course turned into a leg shredder at that point with the last three miles comprised of 5% rolling hills.
Even with this special experience in San Francisco, Shakespeare's Macbeth may have had it right after all: Is life a tale "told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing?" Well, enter stage right, the Idiot, Mikie Marathoner, with lots of sound and fury in his impetuous blog trying to accomplish a goal that, in the long run, probably means nothing.... except for the shiny medals and the resident pain in the legs, feet and especially the lower back. It may be time for this old man to reconsider his goal, or at least modify it. Ten half marathons a year may be more than I can bear without proper training (which has been limited in the last six months), weekly massages (which I never do) and sponsorship from Nike, Fed-Ex or whomever (which will NEVER happen). Maybe 100 marathons by my Seventieth birthday would be more sane. Or..... I might strike it lucky - ("lucky" here is defined as "uncharacteristically strong, no pain, with carefree abandon and a super positive attitude") and be able to recover better in the future and accomplish my original goal. We shall see.
Time: 2:24:05
Prayer List: Miles 1-3: Two-year old, Shelby Griffin, who has returned home after three and a half months in the hospital. Miles 4-6: Fred Sanders, my step-father. He is battling cancer with the attitude of a true Marine! Miles 7-9: My brother, John who is still trying to recover from three years of disease in his colon. Miles 10-13: Mike Nolan, the Interim Principal at my beloved Jefferson Academy. Mike took the leadership responsibilities for "my" school and I have prayed that his learning curve would be smooth and blessed as he serves a very special community that I miss, very, very, very much.
Slacker Half Marathon, Georgetown, Colorado, June 27, 2010
Race Number 37
This may make you vomit, but I could not stop my psychotic thought process. I took off on the Dos Equis beer commercial....... now you are going to meet ........
Time: 2:30:30. Lactic acid built up early at 10,000+ feet. No legs at the end.
Prayer List: Miles: 1-3: All my new friends at the Colorado League of Charter Schools. Twenty dedicated professionals working hard to support the 160+ charter schools in our state. Mikes 4-6: Jeff Johnson as he mourns the loss of his father. Miles 7-9: Marco Rafanelli as he serves in Kenya, Africa for the month of July bringing water to a poor community. Miles 10-13: Shelby Griffin... two years old, recovering from seizures and still in the hospital after three months.
This may make you vomit, but I could not stop my psychotic thought process. I took off on the Dos Equis beer commercial....... now you are going to meet ........
"The Most Interesting Runner in the World."
- When it is raining, it is because he is sweating heavily from a training run.
- When he ran the Slacker Half at 10,850 feet this weekend, .............angels appeared.
- When he was racing at the Slacker Half, he secreted pheromones. It was said it effected all the runners around him.
- He has been known to cure runner's knee by just walking into a room.
- His organ donation card also lists his feet, his calves and his hip flexors.
- His charm and running enthusiasm is so contagious, vaccines have been made to fend against it.
- Proper race bib placement does not apply to him.
- His blood smells like fragrant massage oil.
- At the Slacker Half Marathon, his legend proceeded him..... like lightening before thunder. There were ooooo's and aaaah's.
- If he were to race a letter mailed from Denver to Newport Beach, he would beat the letter by a full day.
MIKIE MARATHONER....... IS ........ THE MOST INTERESTING RUNNER in the WORLD!
"I do not always run in races to punish myself for being soooo egocentric, but when I do, I prefer running in half marathons. Keep running my friends!" (and keep reading this blog for those moments when you need to purge).
Time: 2:30:30. Lactic acid built up early at 10,000+ feet. No legs at the end.
Prayer List: Miles: 1-3: All my new friends at the Colorado League of Charter Schools. Twenty dedicated professionals working hard to support the 160+ charter schools in our state. Mikes 4-6: Jeff Johnson as he mourns the loss of his father. Miles 7-9: Marco Rafanelli as he serves in Kenya, Africa for the month of July bringing water to a poor community. Miles 10-13: Shelby Griffin... two years old, recovering from seizures and still in the hospital after three months.
Estes Park Half Marathon, Estes Park, Colorado. June 13, 2010
Race Number 36 (pic on right is from the Colfax)
Ok, reader……It is time to exercise your mind….I exercised my finely tuned body today….. so YOU can at least bear with me as we address this race in High Elizabethan discourse…..
I relate this dreary anecdote only to acquaint the person who partakes of this treatise with the type of person’s that may be encountered in a footrace not unlike the one doth called the Estes Park Half Marathon effected at 7,700 feet of elevation and torrents of rain.
I ran, nearly the whole footrace behind a wretched man of advanced age. I assure you, I will prejudice you against him. We will call him Mr. W (for Wretched, of course) It must be said that Mr. W made of himself a most vexing presence, and it is in this particular that the author is compelled to manifest his grievances against him in the interest of compatibilities and harmonies, for it is said of the company running in footraces of distance together, that “Tis agreeable to slander thy mate, but not to lay thy hand, in closed fashion, upon his face.” Thus, I resort to lexis.
He (Mr. W) finds pleasant that most noxious habit of spitting and farting while running, and doth contrive to pollute the air and surface wheresoever he runs. This very morning I was running pleasantly along the trail at this Half Marathon of Estes Park, when Mr. W appeared by my side at mile four and without so much as a by-your-leave, plunked his person beside me, matching my foot strikes. It was the work of moments to convert my quiet running area into a ghetto dwelling of odors, sounds and wrenchings which doth were produced from this man whoest was far along in age.
He had come, I said to myself, to trouble my quietude. Why doth you not repair to some other part of the course whereth you may contrive your animal-sty or whicheversoever environment you pleaseth?
Of course, he made no answer to my entreaty (because I did not asketh him), but continued his farting and spitting, shortly followed be great braying and imprecating against our Maker for making of the cold and heavy rain that falleth upon us. So self-absorbed did he becometh in his conundrum with his jarring, that he payeth no mind to where his gaseous expellations flieth, to wit, into various of my tender membranes, such as the eyes, nose and mouth. When one had asked if he might trouble to cause this detritus to be positioned elsewhere, he makes no sign of comprehending, and continueth with his measures.
It was not long before I found that Mr. W possesseth a genius for causing a bruit without acquainting himself with its results. Whilst running through the station for water, he leaped across my person to procure the object relating to this station, (thus sayeth…. Gatorade); in doing so, he brushed against my person, stepping upon my forefoot, causing me to stumble. I gnashed my teeth and made a great keening to make manifest my pain. Yet he remarked not one iota on my consternation, and merely continued his plodding.
Not two miles later, another disaster befell me thanks to his agency. At the next station to procure refreshment, I had taken a cup of cool Gatorade with a plump slice of orange to ward off the scurvy. The cup, I had placed along my side, buttressed against my loins by means of my arm so that I might partake of the luscious slice of orange. It wanted no small amount of ingenuity to consternate the precious Gatorade, but hark, here comes Mr. W, and mark, soon my painstakingly prepared beverage was a chaos of orange splotches which coursed from one end of my suit of running, like the River Lethe, a torrent of sugary substance that staineth and corrodeth everything in its path.
Every man hath his limits, and after what seemed a fortnight of enduring these and other affronts which shall go unmentioned, I resolved that to keep murder out of my heart, I would mount counter-vexations! Thereupon I seized the opportunity to fill my mouth with a congeal of liquids made available by the maidens at the next station for refreshment. He noticed not the thievery and I began to suppose him oblivious to the greater part of that which taketh place around him—indeed, he went on with his way whilst I ran before him. The dark thought loomed not distantly in my cerebellum that he might falleth upon the cobblestones due to the onset of all matter of liquid come pouring from my mouth and he would dodge and be stumbled down by the derbies of my mouth, thus, serving him in the office of "road kill" as he lay splattered on the ground.
Perhaps I rageth out of proportion to the crime. Certainly I did not desireth that Mr. W be hurteth or maimed. He may be, in many respects, an excellent fellow (even a father of grand, like me), and he may knoweth a great quantity of celebrities with whom might pursue me to do me harm. But he had continueth in his ways, making serpentine progress while running near me, causing me to jibe and folk and to be pitched from mine intended course and making his copious nuisances upon my company. So then, I was resolved to put him at bay, leaving him to wonder at the mysterious liquid which emanateth from my mouth and thus caused him to fall.
I prayed, meanwhile, as I left the scene, I would not be provoked to any other such extremity of retaliation for it appeared that my manifestations had succeeded. I completed the race without concern again for Mr. W. The vexations had worked and the airs were clear and the path not covered in spittle from mile numbered ten and on. The rain was bad enough.
Ok, reader……It is time to exercise your mind….I exercised my finely tuned body today….. so YOU can at least bear with me as we address this race in High Elizabethan discourse…..
I relate this dreary anecdote only to acquaint the person who partakes of this treatise with the type of person’s that may be encountered in a footrace not unlike the one doth called the Estes Park Half Marathon effected at 7,700 feet of elevation and torrents of rain.
I ran, nearly the whole footrace behind a wretched man of advanced age. I assure you, I will prejudice you against him. We will call him Mr. W (for Wretched, of course) It must be said that Mr. W made of himself a most vexing presence, and it is in this particular that the author is compelled to manifest his grievances against him in the interest of compatibilities and harmonies, for it is said of the company running in footraces of distance together, that “Tis agreeable to slander thy mate, but not to lay thy hand, in closed fashion, upon his face.” Thus, I resort to lexis.
He (Mr. W) finds pleasant that most noxious habit of spitting and farting while running, and doth contrive to pollute the air and surface wheresoever he runs. This very morning I was running pleasantly along the trail at this Half Marathon of Estes Park, when Mr. W appeared by my side at mile four and without so much as a by-your-leave, plunked his person beside me, matching my foot strikes. It was the work of moments to convert my quiet running area into a ghetto dwelling of odors, sounds and wrenchings which doth were produced from this man whoest was far along in age.
He had come, I said to myself, to trouble my quietude. Why doth you not repair to some other part of the course whereth you may contrive your animal-sty or whicheversoever environment you pleaseth?
Of course, he made no answer to my entreaty (because I did not asketh him), but continued his farting and spitting, shortly followed be great braying and imprecating against our Maker for making of the cold and heavy rain that falleth upon us. So self-absorbed did he becometh in his conundrum with his jarring, that he payeth no mind to where his gaseous expellations flieth, to wit, into various of my tender membranes, such as the eyes, nose and mouth. When one had asked if he might trouble to cause this detritus to be positioned elsewhere, he makes no sign of comprehending, and continueth with his measures.
It was not long before I found that Mr. W possesseth a genius for causing a bruit without acquainting himself with its results. Whilst running through the station for water, he leaped across my person to procure the object relating to this station, (thus sayeth…. Gatorade); in doing so, he brushed against my person, stepping upon my forefoot, causing me to stumble. I gnashed my teeth and made a great keening to make manifest my pain. Yet he remarked not one iota on my consternation, and merely continued his plodding.
Not two miles later, another disaster befell me thanks to his agency. At the next station to procure refreshment, I had taken a cup of cool Gatorade with a plump slice of orange to ward off the scurvy. The cup, I had placed along my side, buttressed against my loins by means of my arm so that I might partake of the luscious slice of orange. It wanted no small amount of ingenuity to consternate the precious Gatorade, but hark, here comes Mr. W, and mark, soon my painstakingly prepared beverage was a chaos of orange splotches which coursed from one end of my suit of running, like the River Lethe, a torrent of sugary substance that staineth and corrodeth everything in its path.
Every man hath his limits, and after what seemed a fortnight of enduring these and other affronts which shall go unmentioned, I resolved that to keep murder out of my heart, I would mount counter-vexations! Thereupon I seized the opportunity to fill my mouth with a congeal of liquids made available by the maidens at the next station for refreshment. He noticed not the thievery and I began to suppose him oblivious to the greater part of that which taketh place around him—indeed, he went on with his way whilst I ran before him. The dark thought loomed not distantly in my cerebellum that he might falleth upon the cobblestones due to the onset of all matter of liquid come pouring from my mouth and he would dodge and be stumbled down by the derbies of my mouth, thus, serving him in the office of "road kill" as he lay splattered on the ground.
Perhaps I rageth out of proportion to the crime. Certainly I did not desireth that Mr. W be hurteth or maimed. He may be, in many respects, an excellent fellow (even a father of grand, like me), and he may knoweth a great quantity of celebrities with whom might pursue me to do me harm. But he had continueth in his ways, making serpentine progress while running near me, causing me to jibe and folk and to be pitched from mine intended course and making his copious nuisances upon my company. So then, I was resolved to put him at bay, leaving him to wonder at the mysterious liquid which emanateth from my mouth and thus caused him to fall.
I prayed, meanwhile, as I left the scene, I would not be provoked to any other such extremity of retaliation for it appeared that my manifestations had succeeded. I completed the race without concern again for Mr. W. The vexations had worked and the airs were clear and the path not covered in spittle from mile numbered ten and on. The rain was bad enough.
Long live the King and clear air.
In God’s name, Your servant,
Sir Mikie
Time: A spittle and rain laden 2:40-something. This was a most difficult course at 7,700 feet with hills at 2-3% elevation and the rain and cold was hard on the body. My running gear collected FOUR POUNDS of water. Lancelot’s horse would have had been vexed.
Prayer List: Mr. W and myself. Mr. W, for his injuries and me for my sins of the heart, mind and soul (seriously). Also, I prayeth for myself to be successful at my new venture as the Vice President of Finance and Strategy at the Colorado League of Charter Schools. Sir Mikie is anxious but confident.
Colfax Half Marathon, Denver, Colorado, May 16, 2010
Race Number 35
THIS RACE WAS DEDICATED TO THE FAMILIES, STUDENTS, STAFF AND BOARD OF JEFFERSON ACADEMY ELEMENTARY SCHOOL
Since my last blog entry, there have been a lot of changes and personal stress points in my life. Training has been quite sporadic and has taken a back seat to life’s changes and events. I really was not that excited about writing about this race, (or running it, for that matter) because I was feeling a bit up and down. My last Colfax Half was a thirteen mile run honoring my boys. It was very emotional for me. This race was not much different.
So… with that in mind, I decided to link this blog entry with a letter I wrote to my Jefferson Academy families and staff. The letter will explain why I dedicated this entire race to my school…..the place where I have found more love, care, appreciation and honor than any person could possibly enjoy. It has been the most wonderful career experience anyone could ask for. I am confident the letter will explain……that is, IF you should decide to hit the link to the left of this post, right above Nurse Ratched's nicely starched cap.
The personal challenges over the last few of weeks (which I will not detail here) have worked their way into my psyche and I am doing my best to work through them. I have a lot ahead of me and I need to be prepared and fresh for the journey. I learned for the one thousandth time that ethics, integrity and honesty are critical elements of my character that those who I call my friends and colleagues have learned to accept of me. If they cannot, it does make it difficult to "commune" together. Occasionally the evangelist in me will push aside the impacted despair of a generation of trying to convey this, and I will just say, “By God, this is who I am…..I suppose we can blame God!” Yet, that does not always allow things to end as nicely as we would like....(deep sigh....with a few tears...). Today’s race found me running like hell to get the agony over with, externally and internally.
At times, running long distances mimics life. Life can have its episodes of minimal excitement and a majority of slog and drudge. Today’s race was a bit like that. Yet, I must say, most of my life and running experiences have been more excitement and blessing than slog and drudge. I hope your life and career is always full of lots of excitement and very little drudge. My sixteen years of association with Jefferson Academy has been very exciting. Thank you to all those who "ran" along side of me (or in most cases...ahead of me) and trusted me. Thank you for leading this poor soul through the maze. I am and will be forever grateful. WE have developed one of the finest schools in the state! I am so very proud to have been associated with this "ministry."
Time: 2:26:03 I was generally pleased with this time because my pace and cadence matched my conditioning. I actually felt strong throughout the race. Maybe I am starting to figure these races out after running 35 of them!
Prayer List: All thirteen miles, I prayed for "my" school. I prayed that it stays true to the mission and vision we established over 16 years ago which included rigorous academics but with extreme sensitivity to the children who do not learn like the majority. We did our best to serve EVERY child that came through our doors, no matter what their station was in their academic and developmental life. With that philosophy, we have still been in the TOP 15% (and better in most years) of ALL the 1,462 elementary schools in the state of Colorado. Want my spiritual opinion on it?..... I think we have always had God's covering and I think that has allowed us to succeed!
I am going to miss JA very much but I am very excited about my new challenge!
THIS RACE WAS DEDICATED TO THE FAMILIES, STUDENTS, STAFF AND BOARD OF JEFFERSON ACADEMY ELEMENTARY SCHOOL
Since my last blog entry, there have been a lot of changes and personal stress points in my life. Training has been quite sporadic and has taken a back seat to life’s changes and events. I really was not that excited about writing about this race, (or running it, for that matter) because I was feeling a bit up and down. My last Colfax Half was a thirteen mile run honoring my boys. It was very emotional for me. This race was not much different.
So… with that in mind, I decided to link this blog entry with a letter I wrote to my Jefferson Academy families and staff. The letter will explain why I dedicated this entire race to my school…..the place where I have found more love, care, appreciation and honor than any person could possibly enjoy. It has been the most wonderful career experience anyone could ask for. I am confident the letter will explain……that is, IF you should decide to hit the link to the left of this post, right above Nurse Ratched's nicely starched cap.
The personal challenges over the last few of weeks (which I will not detail here) have worked their way into my psyche and I am doing my best to work through them. I have a lot ahead of me and I need to be prepared and fresh for the journey. I learned for the one thousandth time that ethics, integrity and honesty are critical elements of my character that those who I call my friends and colleagues have learned to accept of me. If they cannot, it does make it difficult to "commune" together. Occasionally the evangelist in me will push aside the impacted despair of a generation of trying to convey this, and I will just say, “By God, this is who I am…..I suppose we can blame God!” Yet, that does not always allow things to end as nicely as we would like....(deep sigh....with a few tears...). Today’s race found me running like hell to get the agony over with, externally and internally.
At times, running long distances mimics life. Life can have its episodes of minimal excitement and a majority of slog and drudge. Today’s race was a bit like that. Yet, I must say, most of my life and running experiences have been more excitement and blessing than slog and drudge. I hope your life and career is always full of lots of excitement and very little drudge. My sixteen years of association with Jefferson Academy has been very exciting. Thank you to all those who "ran" along side of me (or in most cases...ahead of me) and trusted me. Thank you for leading this poor soul through the maze. I am and will be forever grateful. WE have developed one of the finest schools in the state! I am so very proud to have been associated with this "ministry."
Time: 2:26:03 I was generally pleased with this time because my pace and cadence matched my conditioning. I actually felt strong throughout the race. Maybe I am starting to figure these races out after running 35 of them!
Prayer List: All thirteen miles, I prayed for "my" school. I prayed that it stays true to the mission and vision we established over 16 years ago which included rigorous academics but with extreme sensitivity to the children who do not learn like the majority. We did our best to serve EVERY child that came through our doors, no matter what their station was in their academic and developmental life. With that philosophy, we have still been in the TOP 15% (and better in most years) of ALL the 1,462 elementary schools in the state of Colorado. Want my spiritual opinion on it?..... I think we have always had God's covering and I think that has allowed us to succeed!
I am going to miss JA very much but I am very excited about my new challenge!
Platte River Half Marathon, Littleton, Colorado, April 11, 2010
Race Number 34“In running, it is man against himself, the cruelest of opponents. The other runners are not the real enemies. His adversary lies within him, in his ability with brain and heart to master himself and his emotions.” Glenn Cunningham
“Now if you are going to win any battle you have to do one thing. You have to make the mind run the body. The body will always give up.” General George Patton
“What counts in battle is what you do once the pain sets in.” John Short
Interesting thoughts. Three warriors, with three similar perspectives. I DO get it (I am not as dumb as I look!). I have experienced Mind over Body, albeit in a game of chess or shuffleboard. Nevertheless, my compulsion as a member of genus Americanus is to focus automatically, and unthinkingly, on the shortest distant between two points, not the battle from within. So… today’s race was a painful battle and I am ashamed to say, I think the body ruled my mind, …..again. All I could think of was trying to find ways to eliminate a couple of extra steps so that I could relieve myself of the pain I was experiencing. The pain was really bad today! According to the three authors above, I misplaced my energies and the result was probably affecting my performance.
I struggled to regain my composure, realizing that I was making General Patton and all the Greek gods quite angry. I found my “second wind” (which is really just a call from the mind to the body to start converting stored fat, which I have plenty of, into an energy source) and then a curious Old Testament feeling came upon me: a sense of retribution, a sense of awful judgment and awful punishment. Well……. it was not all that dramatic, but I did find myself running harder and a little more effectively towards the finish line to escape desolation by the hand of God Almighty. I finished the race with one of my slowest times ever, 2:33:33. I may be overdoing it on my newly repaired back, though. It is quite sore right now.
In retrospect, the race went quickly. On the other hand, I am quite sure the warriors above would note that war battles pass quickly. I am not sure I would have made them proud. Yet, I did learn a bit more about trying to master the mind (albeit my mind is the size of a pea...can you really call that “mastering?”). I guess I will find out more as I prepare for race number 35 in May, the dreaded Colfax Half Marathon in Denver.
Prayer List: Miles 1-3: Chuck Smith, Sr. : recovering from a mild stroke. Miles 4-6: Cheryl Atencio, Board President at JA as she faces hip replacement surgery on May 14th. Miles 7-9: Shelby Griffin, two years old, suffering from seizures. Miles 10 & 11: Jake Talley, fifth grade student at JA, battling MS. Miles 12 &13: Jan Huffman, Food Service Manager at JA…Jan is retiring from JA after sixteen years of service. She has been the Ultimate Lunch Lady (emphasis on ULTIMATE and LADY)!
In retrospect, the race went quickly. On the other hand, I am quite sure the warriors above would note that war battles pass quickly. I am not sure I would have made them proud. Yet, I did learn a bit more about trying to master the mind (albeit my mind is the size of a pea...can you really call that “mastering?”). I guess I will find out more as I prepare for race number 35 in May, the dreaded Colfax Half Marathon in Denver.
Prayer List: Miles 1-3: Chuck Smith, Sr. : recovering from a mild stroke. Miles 4-6: Cheryl Atencio, Board President at JA as she faces hip replacement surgery on May 14th. Miles 7-9: Shelby Griffin, two years old, suffering from seizures. Miles 10 & 11: Jake Talley, fifth grade student at JA, battling MS. Miles 12 &13: Jan Huffman, Food Service Manager at JA…Jan is retiring from JA after sixteen years of service. She has been the Ultimate Lunch Lady (emphasis on ULTIMATE and LADY)!
A2A Arbuckles to Ardmore Half Marathon, Ardmore, Oklahoma, March 27, 2010
Race Number 33, State Number 9
I am not sure exactly when liking to run became longing to run…..when wanting to run became needing to run. I only know that, as there once were roads that HAD to be driven in my new 1967 Tan Volkswagen Beetle when I was seventeen, there are now roads, trails and courses that must be run in my sixties. When I injured my back in November, I was certainly afraid that my shoe strikes on the ground were short-lived. The universe was not making much sense to me, especially after I had come so far.
So far from what, you may ask (or you may not ask…so stop reading)? The answer: The fear of running. Yep, I knew what it felt like to fail at running based on previous attempts in my life to get into running shape. Yet, my return to running in 2005 has been a lot of fun. Notwithstanding, the fear of running was nothing, though, compared with the fear I was concerned most about facing; that is, the fear of WATCHING. As I contemplated what my doctor communicated to me in the middle of December, I could hear my heart pounding and feel my palms sweating, wondering, if, I might have to give up my present-day passion. Could this really be happening?
As it turns out, though, I am almost good as new. On December 29th, Dr. Blatt removed some vertebrae and some herniated disc (he also liposuctioned my expanding waist area….just kidding ...about the liposuction, not the expanding waist) and within two days of surgery, I was on my feet and walking four miles! In fact, I walked 3-4 miles almost everyday for the five weeks after going under the stiletto and started low-impact training and some jogging six weeks out from surgery.
A friend asserted the other day, “You know.....your running may have caused the problem that your fall from the ladder aggravated?” That is an assertion I would not deny. However, I will probably leave this planet before discovering whether it is true, because I never intend to explore the question. Running will be MY adventuresome agony!
So….. I flew to Oklahoma this last weekend ( I am writing this from sunny California as I enjoy spring break...tough life right now) and ran in the “A2A Arbuckles to Ardmore Half Marathon” with the largest ear-to-ear grin amongst the 450+ competitors. I ran, with an almost psychotic disdain for safety, finishing with a slow, but respectable 2:28:10 time. That is at least ten-twelve minutes off my normal finishing time as I was being careful not to pound my back too hard. The weather was perfect except for 30 knot gusts of wind.
Therefore, it appears I have returned and unless you obliterate my notification e-mails in the future, you will be subject to me setting about (industriously, btw) to document, yet again, (and maybe everlastingly), my lack of athletic talent.
Talk to you again after my next race on April 11th. Mikie it back!!
Prayer List: Miles 1 & 2: Pat Caudill: Recovering from cancer surgery. See P.S. at the bottom of this post regarding Pat and me. Miles 3 & 4: Tami Kanary: Recovering from breast cancer. Miles 5 & 6: Janelle Bratten: Recovering from breast cancer. Miles 7 & 8: The Happs family: Grieving over the loss of mom/grandmother to cancer. Miles 9 & 10: Jim Prichard and family over the loss of the very first teacher hired at Jefferson Academy. Karen was our special education teacher until her retirement in 2003. She set the theme for what kind of school we were going to be….especially to those children with special needs or struggles. Miles 11 & 12: The Gunter family, grieving the loss of father and grandfather. Mile 13: Joe and Carrie Mott...I officiated their wedding the night before flying out to OK. Carrie is one of our teachers at JA.
PS. Pat Caudill and I attended high school and some college together in California. We are still the best of friends! Coincidentally, we had beds next to each other in pre-op when I went in for my back surgery. That produced some problems for the operating room staff. As Pat and I answered all the pre-op questions that nurses and doctors are obligated to ask, we each kept pulling the curtain partition back, (that separated our “privacy”…ha) to chime in on each others conversations so that we might correct the information that the other was giving to the attending nurse. I sincerely felt obligated to correct Pat as he tried to impress the VERY attractive young nurse with his manly prowess and his particular need to lie about things like…. weight (OMG), height, muscle mass and especially his IQ. Of course, he also corrected the information I was dispensing to the staff about my days, as a pro surfer in California, with surfer girls hanging ALL over me. My 63 year old nurse thought I was pretty cool until Pat shattered all that with his hyperbolic stew. I am not sure Saint Joseph Medical Center will EVER be graced with another set of 60 year old GOLDEN boys like Pat and I…..unless, of course, we both get hurt at the same time, body surfing 15 foot waves at “The Wedge” in Newport Beach. In that case, we would probably both be in the morgue anyway….with little to say…. except maybe a final “I love you, man!”
I am not sure exactly when liking to run became longing to run…..when wanting to run became needing to run. I only know that, as there once were roads that HAD to be driven in my new 1967 Tan Volkswagen Beetle when I was seventeen, there are now roads, trails and courses that must be run in my sixties. When I injured my back in November, I was certainly afraid that my shoe strikes on the ground were short-lived. The universe was not making much sense to me, especially after I had come so far.
So far from what, you may ask (or you may not ask…so stop reading)? The answer: The fear of running. Yep, I knew what it felt like to fail at running based on previous attempts in my life to get into running shape. Yet, my return to running in 2005 has been a lot of fun. Notwithstanding, the fear of running was nothing, though, compared with the fear I was concerned most about facing; that is, the fear of WATCHING. As I contemplated what my doctor communicated to me in the middle of December, I could hear my heart pounding and feel my palms sweating, wondering, if, I might have to give up my present-day passion. Could this really be happening?
As it turns out, though, I am almost good as new. On December 29th, Dr. Blatt removed some vertebrae and some herniated disc (he also liposuctioned my expanding waist area….just kidding ...about the liposuction, not the expanding waist) and within two days of surgery, I was on my feet and walking four miles! In fact, I walked 3-4 miles almost everyday for the five weeks after going under the stiletto and started low-impact training and some jogging six weeks out from surgery.
A friend asserted the other day, “You know.....your running may have caused the problem that your fall from the ladder aggravated?” That is an assertion I would not deny. However, I will probably leave this planet before discovering whether it is true, because I never intend to explore the question. Running will be MY adventuresome agony!
So….. I flew to Oklahoma this last weekend ( I am writing this from sunny California as I enjoy spring break...tough life right now) and ran in the “A2A Arbuckles to Ardmore Half Marathon” with the largest ear-to-ear grin amongst the 450+ competitors. I ran, with an almost psychotic disdain for safety, finishing with a slow, but respectable 2:28:10 time. That is at least ten-twelve minutes off my normal finishing time as I was being careful not to pound my back too hard. The weather was perfect except for 30 knot gusts of wind.
Therefore, it appears I have returned and unless you obliterate my notification e-mails in the future, you will be subject to me setting about (industriously, btw) to document, yet again, (and maybe everlastingly), my lack of athletic talent.
Talk to you again after my next race on April 11th. Mikie it back!!
Prayer List: Miles 1 & 2: Pat Caudill: Recovering from cancer surgery. See P.S. at the bottom of this post regarding Pat and me. Miles 3 & 4: Tami Kanary: Recovering from breast cancer. Miles 5 & 6: Janelle Bratten: Recovering from breast cancer. Miles 7 & 8: The Happs family: Grieving over the loss of mom/grandmother to cancer. Miles 9 & 10: Jim Prichard and family over the loss of the very first teacher hired at Jefferson Academy. Karen was our special education teacher until her retirement in 2003. She set the theme for what kind of school we were going to be….especially to those children with special needs or struggles. Miles 11 & 12: The Gunter family, grieving the loss of father and grandfather. Mile 13: Joe and Carrie Mott...I officiated their wedding the night before flying out to OK. Carrie is one of our teachers at JA.
PS. Pat Caudill and I attended high school and some college together in California. We are still the best of friends! Coincidentally, we had beds next to each other in pre-op when I went in for my back surgery. That produced some problems for the operating room staff. As Pat and I answered all the pre-op questions that nurses and doctors are obligated to ask, we each kept pulling the curtain partition back, (that separated our “privacy”…ha) to chime in on each others conversations so that we might correct the information that the other was giving to the attending nurse. I sincerely felt obligated to correct Pat as he tried to impress the VERY attractive young nurse with his manly prowess and his particular need to lie about things like…. weight (OMG), height, muscle mass and especially his IQ. Of course, he also corrected the information I was dispensing to the staff about my days, as a pro surfer in California, with surfer girls hanging ALL over me. My 63 year old nurse thought I was pretty cool until Pat shattered all that with his hyperbolic stew. I am not sure Saint Joseph Medical Center will EVER be graced with another set of 60 year old GOLDEN boys like Pat and I…..unless, of course, we both get hurt at the same time, body surfing 15 foot waves at “The Wedge” in Newport Beach. In that case, we would probably both be in the morgue anyway….with little to say…. except maybe a final “I love you, man!”
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