Bike to 5k....I'm the luckiest man alive.

You know, there are a lot of people out there who have done a "Couch to 5k" program - and it's awesome.  I'm not sure I could have done that.  Well, I didn't do that, as a matter of fact.  I did a "Couch to biking" program, and now I've started down a "Bike to 5k" program...and everything, including the aches and pains...has been worth it.

Saturday morning, 6 AM.  If I'm going to eat, I know that I have to do it now.  Otherwise, there's no eating until after the race.  I know this because there have been countless training runs where I was cramping from eating too close to the run.  So I eat just a little, and start drinking.

7:30 - leave the house to get to the race start.  Registration starts at 8 and there's only a mile and half to go, but you never know how these things go, so it's "get there early and get it done."  I think we were the first in line to get to the registration tables.  And met the newly re-elected mayor.  Oh, ok.

9:00 - Race start.  I get off to a good start and am feeling pretty decent for the first mile....and that's when it starts: pain in the shins.  Pain? More like, "my shins felt like 80 lbs of lead."  In the interest of wanting to conserve energy, I think I failed to warm up quiiiiiiiite enough, and the result was fast-building lactic acid in my shins.  Maybe that's "shin splints" and maybe it's not - the truth be told, I don't really care.  All I know is that it forced me to.....walk.  I know that a lot of runners have to walk for a bit in their races, and that's fine.  A lot of those people I talk to are walking while doing a malf marathon, or a 10k, or other even longer race.  I was walking after about the first .75 (yeah, that's 3/4) of a mile.  REALLY????  Talk about disappointing.

Now, it's amazing.  Several times in my life, it's felt like time slows when I'm in the middle of a moment.  This felt like that.  My love and partner in this running event caught up to me (not that she was ever far behind) and pushed me through the pain.  Wow.  What an amazing woman.  Not only is she running the race, but she's motivating the Fat Kid to keep it going.  It's at this point where I sit back and look at it all and say, "What did I ever do to deserve the love of a woman like this?"  Those minutes seemed like hours to the pain in my legs, but her support made me realize something:  I had to fight to get here, and this race was not going to let me finish it without that same fight.

So we kept going.  I walked when I had to, and I ran as much as I could.  Finally, at the end, I had enough in the tank (and for the record, the energy, my lungs, etc ALL felt great - except the lower half of my legs)  And then I saw the finish line...and the best thing ever:  that clock that tells you just how much time has passed.  And then I saw the worst thing ever: the 70+ yr old man in front of me.  OK, I can't make this phrase sound good, but "AAWWWWW  HELL TO THE "NO."  Yeah.  Pain or no pain, I can't let a senior citizen beat me.  That bit about conserving energy came in handy as I crossed the line at 32:46, one second ahead of Mr. Anderson, who crossed at 32:47.  My support, my love, my inspiration, my cheerleader, my best friend...crossed just afterwards at 32:52.  She was only behind me because I didn't tell her I was going to sprint.  She deserved better from me.

11AM - packed, ready to go, a camping weekend awaiting us, we head off for a weekend of cold nights, warm campfires, hiking, beach volleyball and a little well-deserved camp cooking (steak, sausage and peppers, eggs, chicken salad, yams, etc.) and there may or may not have been a little whiskey, too! 

There have been a lot of "great/awesome weekends" for me in the last bunch of months.  In fact, I've been blessed with many weekends liek that over the course of my life.  This one....this one put them all to shame.  I am the luckiest man alive.

Thanks for reading,

The Fat Kid

The Fat Kid Runneth???

Well, I thought it might be about time to dedicate a post to this latest project of mine: running a 5K race.  For someone who understands that running and cycling share a lot of the same qualities, you'd think that I might take to it quickly, and enjoy it.  Well, there's a hidden quality they both share, and that is that TRAINING SUCKS.  Yup.  Training is where the hard work is done.  That's where you run, even if you don't want to, even if you can't stand the pain, even if you know you look like an idiot out there, even if your legs are about to fall off - you keep doing it.  The rewards are the races, but the training?  No, the training is where you do the hard work, and for me, that hard work - on the bike or on my feet - will never be "fun."  It's training, and it hurts, and that's why I don't like it.

But in the last couple of weeks, a few things have happened.  See, the Fat Kid's girlfriend LIKES to run, and convinced me that doing a 5k race was a good and important thing.  She's right, of course - running is a good thing for me to do.  It's healthy, it's easier to do wherever I go, it's relatively low-cost (if you want it to be) and I can still wear most of my biking gear while doing it...so it's really a smart thing, as it also works other muscle groups and is good for my lungs, etc.  I know all this, but the facts remain: I have never run a distance of 3.1 miles in my life, and up to now, have convinced myself that I could NOT do it.  In fact, I've been afraid of it, hiding behind excuses like "flat feet" (which is true) "shin splints" (which is true, but I've likely exaggerated it) and other such things.  So, registering with her for this race is a way for me to face this rather silly fear of running. 

And it turns out that "silly" is precisely what it is.  I mean, really?  Afraid of running?  Who does that?  And I remembered something:  I used to be afraid of hills, too.  Now I just don't like them a whole bunch, but I used to be afraid to even try them.  Now, I see a hill and even though I know it's going to hurt, I do my best to ride up it anyway.  Why?  Because I don't want to be afraid anymore.  I don't like that guy who fears hills.  Just like I don't like that guy who's afraid to run.

So, with that in mind this week, I've been running regularly, and on Tuesday, something pretty incredible happened: I ran the first mile without stopping.  Previously, I'd been running about 1/3 mile before having to stop and rest for a second, or at least walk just a little.  Not on that day.  I finally completed the first mile.  For the first time since starting this exploration into running (which started about 6 weeks ago with occasionally running with my girlfriend) I could look at what I did, and be mildly pleased.  Oh hell, I was ecstatic!!!  I - me - the Fat Kid - RAN A MILE.  I don't think I've ever run a mile before in my life.  Ever.  And here I am, doing it.  Still not necessarily "enjoying" it...but DOING it. 

Now - for a quick dose of reality, one mile's not going to get me far in a 3.1 mile race.  Not in the least.  So I should only be just "so proud" of 1 mile.  But it's that first mile that's the hardest to conquer.  I know if I can do one mile, I can eventually do two, and if I can do two, I can eventually do three.  The only problem is that I have until the 25th to be able to do those three.  Damned time limitations.  But that's a good thing, because it doesn't let me hide from it.  I'm forced to do it, to own it, to push myself, in an endeavor that is good for me.  And I'm telling you all about it because that's me not hiding from it either.  Who knows?  There may be a day when I become "The Kid Formerly Known As Fat" and I get to make my name into just a symbol.  Ummm...Don't hold your breath on that one.

In other knews...I'm getting even with her, and making her prep for a ride-to-be-disclosed-later.  Maybe we can both win!

Thanks for Reading,
The Fat Kid

Poetry Challenge, v. 4.0, Days 29 and 30

Well, here we are, Day 30, and I have my final two poems of this year’s installment. Normally, I’m relieved when the final day of the poetry project comes around, but today, I almost find myself feeling a little saddened. I’ve simply had a great time this year, and even though some of my stuff may have seemed garbled or unclear, I’ve still enjoyed writing it, much more so than I ever have before. That is a very refreshing thought amidst my sadness at having finished out the month. Very refreshing indeed. So, without further ado, let’s get on to the last of this year’s poems!




The First Mile

Feet pounding the pavement,
Legs heavy, steps smaller than I’d like,
Breathing in sync on a two-count.
In, in, out, out, in, in again.
I turn down the street,
Unsure if I can make it to the end,
But I press onward.
I must keep going,
Keep moving,
Keep breathing,
Keep living,
Even if only for the next breath
Or the next step.
It must be.
Giving up is not an option,
Quitting – an avenue I’ve traveled before
And never want to take again.
A short rise up ahead,
And I lean into the wind,
Out, out, in, in, out – it fills my head until
I hear magical words
Telling me the mile is over.
The first of many more.





Corner-House

A house can be sad.
Broken windows boarded up
Tell the story of a place
Where love used to rule
And smiles were currency.
The roofline is still straight,
It could not have been too long ago,
the grass is long and overgrown now,
and the yellow brick of the walls,
with its red mortar,
looks like the tulips
still barely surviving in the yard.

So, there we have it: another year of poetry challenge done!  Some good, some...less than good...but I hope, in all, that you enjoyed this part of the journey.  Maybe you've even decided to start a journey of your own, I dunno.  I only know that I've enjoyed having you all with me on this ride, and, as always,   Thanks for reading, The Fat Kid

Poetry Challenge, v. 4.0, Days 26, 27, and 28

Ahh, the weekend.  Time to do things around the house, spend some time with my honey, and forget to do poetry for a few days.  Ummm...oops.  But hey, it's the final push to get all these things done, I've made it this far, and so, once again, it's time to buckle down, finish this month of poems up, and get ready for the next great adventure!  Yes, this has been a good adventure thus far this year, and even though I've not exactly been wonderful at coming up with a poem a day, there will still be 30 poems in 30 days, and that's what really matters most of all.  It's not easy, and this little challenge is something that I have grown to love doing.  As we finish this month out this coming week, I hope that you've all enjoyed taking this part of the journey with me.  I thank you for your participation, your putting up with me, and most of all, your friendship and support through this.  But...I've still got a few days left to go, including a three-fer today!!!  So let's get to some poems!!!!

Praying

I, a traveler in a land far from home,
came upon a most unusual thing;
a man, saggy skin and bone,
sat with eyes closed upon a frayed carpet.
He was alone,
and but for my presence there, unknown.

I could not look away,
this strange fellow held me so,
that I wondered if he were not some
grotesque, carved from the sandstone
over which I traveled,
and painted with hues from the earth.

He did not move,
the desert-flies alighting upon his skin
in such a way that makes a horse flick his tail,
but the man stirred not to deplace them.

I stood, amazed.
I could not see him breath, hear any sign
that he was living,
so complete was his trance.

I know not what made me do it, then,
but I sat there on the ground,
though I had no carpet to sit on,
and I attempted to copy the man.

I struggled to be as he was,
resolute in my posture,
calm as the very breath of a newborn babe,
as still as a cloudless night sky.

I failed.

Ashamed, I made my way,
turning my back on that place,
I fancied for a moment that I heard something,
a sigh, a laugh - which, I cannot say,
but when I turned, the man was gone.


Secret Flame

Quietly, it burns,
there, deep down, in the empty recesses
between what is and what was,
in the silent moments between memory,
lies the Power.
It does not like to be shown,
to be heard,
to be known or seen,
but when called upon,
is ready to be shared with those in need.
It is the true self,
the deepest part of me,
where no one can touch,
save One.
It is the secret that I carry,
heat and light from without and within.

Song of Life

Music pours through me,
a constant barrage of phrase and note,
of rhythm and rhyme,
endless  torrent of ideas.
It will have no end, no time to cease,
no stop, save my own coda.
It plays, constantly on,
propelling me to dance,
keep the time as it changes,
ever moving through the steps,
the song of life.


hmmm...possibly a little heavier in thought than I initially set out with in my head today, but hey, not everything can be lighthearted and simple.  This is part of never knowing where poetry is going to take me, and on the whole, even though I don't understand some of today's stuff, I'd say it's a pretty decent effort.  It's part of what I enjoy most of doing this project.  I know I'll hit some out of the park, and others will...well, they'll suck.  But I never know what's going to happen, and I'm glad just to be doing it. 

Speaking of doing it....that running thing?  Yeah, right now, I still hate the pain that comes with learning how to do this, let alone do it well.  Today, though, was 2.5 miles in 37 minutes.  I guess that means I'm looking at maybe a 45-minute 5k at the moment.  Not good, by far, but also not too bad, either, for a guy who has never really run very far at all.  So the goal: 5k in 40 minutes.  If I can hit that, I think I've got every reason to be happy with myself.  Where I'll go with it from there.....who knows.  I'll tackle this like I tackle climbing those hills on the bike:  one day at a time!!!

Thanks for reading,
The Fat Kid

Poetry Challenge, v. 4.0, Day 25

Fat kids hate running.  I once heard a joke told by a guy who had some extra weight, and he said, "I hated running.  Now, I could go fast enough, but the problem was, it took me 15 minutes to stop jiggling after I stopped."  This is precisely how I feel about running.  It doesn't help that I have fairly flat feet, and really just don't care that much for the sport of running.  I don't hate people who love it, or think they're foolish - after all, I love to get on my bike and go for 20-30 miles as an "average" outing, so I can hardly hate anyone for their chosen love of a sport.  I just personally get nothing out of it.  So, today, the love of my life registered me for a 5k.  Well, to be fair, she registered us both, but that's not the point.  The point is, I'm going to have to run a race.  Dammit.  I hate running.  Yet, the point of this, as far as I'm concerned, is to spend time and energy training with her so as to perform decently (read as, "actually run/jog the whole thing).  It's only 3.1 miles.  I know I can do this.  I think.  Maybe.  Perchance.  It's a distinct possibility that I may or may not be able to withstand the pounding of my feet on pavement for 3.1 miles and possibly even finish ahead of anyone else.  I may be in trouble.  I'm probably screwed.  Oh shit.

Hey, let's have some poetry...you know, since that's what this post is supposed to be about...

The Halfland

Pen to paper,
fingers on the keys,
I know what it is I want to write,
but every beginning halts;
an abrupt stoppage,
and I can go no further,
thoughts stagnate in my mind
fizzle into the abyss from which there is no return.
Where do they go?
Is there a secret place,
of dreams and half-thoughts,
where they combine to form things foreign to imagination?
Is it the land that lives between sleeping and waking,
between our reality and the fae?
Oh, let me in to this treasured place,
this nowhere between my thoughts,
to find the answers that linger there,
between the pen and the paper
where the ink runs.

Hmmm....interesting.  I wonder if I can do anything with this concept somewhere down the road.  I suppose it's possible - we'll have to see.  Still, it's a bit of how I'm feeling today.  While I didn't see some of this stuff coming, I'm glad it's here.

Oh, and for those who are wondering, I may be doing some running, but there is no way the page title will become "Triathlon with the Fat Kid." NO.  I reapeat, NO.  And if you still didn't catch it, you can go here: http://nooooooooooooooo.com/  That is all.

Thanks for reading,

The Fat Kid

Poetry Challenge, v. 4.0, days 23 and 24

So, I have had a complaint.  Well, more of something that was noticed than a complaint.  It seems that most of my poems are about the same length this year, though I tend to think that my writing is just as long as it needs to be to get my idea across...though I will admit sometimes, it's being stretched.  Well, that's because, with no editing, with no real forethought for most of the poems that get published on here, it's all "ad hoc."  So it seems that I just think in about the same length before I lose the thought every time.  I guess.  I dunno.  BUT, the upshot is that a challenge has been set forth to me to really do something a little more serious, and to try and conform to a little bit of restraint in form and length.  OK, challenge accepted!!!!  The first challenge was to write a poem in six lines, the second challenge, write a couplet. 

It should be known that I absolutely detest couplets, so I may or may not take that challenge.  I dunno, I feel a little less like a poet and more like some white guy trying to rap.  Having made a foray or two into that world when I was young and incredibly stupid, I try and stay out of it, as I am older and only slightly less stupid now.  We'll see on that one.


There is no Beauty

There is no beauty,
                  that hangs upon
                  the sodden earth
                  like the tresses
                  that fall silently
                  to her shoulders.

Ahh, the short six-line poem.  I normally stay away from these types of poetry because, while they are simple and beautiful, in their own right, I get rather bored with them easily.  It doesn't diminish their value, of course, I think I just like to incorporate more things than can fit in six lines.  But hey, it's an experiment, after all, so I might as well experiment away....

She runs against the night

She runs against the night,
from or to
an overbearing lover,
her deepest need a change
from her daily abuses.
Does tomorrow begin anew?

Slightly depressing, perhaps, on the last one, but then, I suppose that if poetry doesn't make you stop and think, wonder, and look at it, then it might not be doing its job. 

Thanks for reading,
The Fat Kid

Poetry Challenge, v. 4.0, Days 21 and 22

Well, I get one day right, and then....get too enthralled with Grandma's stories to get to a poem the next day.  You know,  I think I still win.  But it's a bright sunny morning here, and the day has begun anew, full of promise.  There's only a couple ways in which it could be better, so I'll take it and be happy.  And write poems. 

Sun Salutation

In the stillness of
the dark morning
the pre-dawn sky is pierced;
a shrill whistle of
waking life
that signals the new day,
an orchestral cue
a tuning note
that begins the overature
of the morning
ever building
a crescendo until the sun
peeks over the trees
and through the window,
bidding me to wake
to new adventures and possibilities.

Little Child
Little child,
how come you here,
amist the changing world,
the raucus tide,
to be a shell of Man,
and empty inside?
Were you listening in your school-days,
were you learning,
were you trying,
were you away from the land of dreams,
youth and fancy dying?
How come you here
to this place and time,
a prescribed venture your worn route,
when there is so much
for you to dream about?


Thanks for reading,
The Fat Kid