The book

I finished the book last night. I can't begin to describe how good that feels.

Fresh Powder

I have one morning each week where I don't have to exercise. For whatever reason I can skip a run or a session with the weights. No reason needs to be given for not wanting to exercise. It doesn't matter if I want to sleep in or read or simply don't feel like exercising. I have one day and can use it however I want. (This one day off a week actually helps me stay motivated to exercise the remaining days of the week.) So Tuesday morning arrives. I have a four mile run scheduled. Before I can get out of bed, Marathon Girl puts her arm around me and asks if I'll stay in bed. I have that one day where I don't have to exercise and made the decision to stay in bed. Besides, winter is the hardest time of year to run because it's cold and dark outside. So I snuggle back under the covers and plan on running the next morning.

Unfortunately the God of Winter decided to play a little trick and dump three inches of snow on the ground Tuesday night. And when I woke up Wednesday morning to this winter wonderland, I wanted to stay in bed. The roads were packed with snow. The temperature hovered around five degrees Fahrenheit. This was the day I should have stayed in bed.

Instead I got out of bed very slowly (I kept hoping Marathon Girl would pull me back under the covers but she was sound asleep), dressed in umpteen layers of clothing and headed out the door.

I was surprised that there were no other footsteps on the running trails. The regular runners having wisely stayed indoors left me with three inches of virgin snow to run though.

Turns out running wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be. Though I had to run slower than normal, traction was good. The air was crisp and clean and felt good to breathe. And it was nice to have the running trails to myself.

And by the time I was done running I was convinced of one thing: If you've never run on fresh power, you've never really run.

(The last line with apologies to Tobias Wolff.)

December Seventh

December Seventh. For those in my grandparents generation it's Pearl Harbor Day.

For Marathon Girl and I, it's the day I asked her to marry me.

Three years ago in cold, snowy Logan Canyon, Marathon Girl agreed to take the leap.

Three years.

It seems like yesterday.

Looking back I'm still amazed things worked out the way they did. But now I can see lots of little miracles that happened along the way that allowed us to reach that point where Marathon Girl agreed to be my wife.

Some things, I believe, are meant to be.

It's a Home Depot Christmas (Tree)

Never thought I'd buy a Christmas tree from The Home Depot. But that's what we did Friday afternoon. With the exception of last year (when I chopped down my own tree), I've always bought Christmas trees from some guy selling them in a lot. I never really liked doing it that way. There was something about those guys that reminded me of used car salesmen. The trees in the lots seem expensive and I for the most part, I've never been impressed with the quality of the trees. Then there's problem of transporting the tree. Marathon Girl and I don't have a minivan or truck that would be useful in transporting Christmas trees. I was fretting about tying the tree to the top of the car or smashing the branches to make it fit in our truck.

So Friday we went tree hunting. By chance we happened to drive by Home Depot and Marathon Girl noticed they were selling trees. Despite the less than perfect experiences I've had buying trees from the normal places, I was hesitant to check them out. Who buys their tree from Home Depot? No one I know. Until Friday, I didn't even know they sold Christmas trees.

Much to my surprise, the trees they sold were really good. The were fresh, full, and came in a variety of sizes. In vive minutes we had found the perfect tree for way less than we were planning on spending. If our Christmas tree buying experience had ended there, I would have been happy.

But it got better.

One of the employees made a fresh cut to the bottom of the tree then ran it through this netting machine that snuggled all the branches together so it would fit in our truck. We were in and out of the store in ten minutes. It took less than thirty seconds to fit the tree in our trunk. After taking the tree home we cut the netting and the tree looked just like it did in the store. So instead of being happy with the Christmas tree we bought, I was thrilled. Unless we have the chance to cut our own, I'll more than likely go back and buy one next year.

The best part about the Christmas tree, however, was Aidan's reaction. He seemed a little mystified at Hope Depot that we were buying a tree and putting it in the car. Once we got it home and set up in the stand (without lights) he was thrilled. He ran up to the tree and pointed at it and said "WOW!"

Now it's his favorite object in the house. We put lights and ornaments on the tree last night and he things the tree is even cooler. This morning the first thing he did was run to the tree, point to it and say "Tree! Tree! Tree!"

He can't get enough of it.

And Marathon Girl and I can't get enough of him being excited.

So far the holiday season is off to a great start.

The Amazing Marathon Girl

When I arrived home from work last night the wind was blowing and the snow was falling. It was downright cold. I was looking forward to having a nice, warm evening at home with Marathon Girl and the family. I come in from the garage to find Marathon Girl dressed in her winter running clothes.

"What are you doing?" I said.

"I'm going to run," Marathon Girl said.

"But it's cold and snowy outside."

"I know."

"The wind is blowing."

"I know."

"It's dark."

"I know."

She gave me a kiss and was out the door. I watched her run down the road until she disappeared into the dark, snowy air.

Aidan brought me a book and we sat on the couch and I read it to him over and over again. Outside I could hear the wind blow and flecks of snow brush against the window.

Marathon Girl came home twenty four minuets later after running three miles. Her hat was covered with a thin layer of snow. Her face looked flushed and excited.

"How was the run?" I said.

"Great," Marathon Girl said. "It feels good to run again."

We cleaned up and had dinner. After the kids were in bed Marathon Girl snuggled up in my arms and feel asleep.

From the smile on her face I had no doubt she was dreaming of running her next marathon.

My Most Embarrassing Moment

Yesterday I received an complimentary email from someone who read about an embarrassing moment that happened in church several months ago. The email started me thinking about past embarrassing moment and I think it's safe to say as embarrassing as it was to have a my computer screen saver flash the words “Get Naked Now” in the middle of a Sunday School class, it wasn't my most embarrassing moment.

Not even close.

My most embarrassing moment happened about six years ago.

My first wife and I were invited to her grandmothers house for dinner one Sunday night. There was some type of celebration going on and most of my first wife's extended family were there. There was lots of people and lots of food.

Lots of good food.

The food was spread out on the kitchen counter buffet style. There was plenty of food and most people made several trips back to the kitchen.

But for some reason that day I was extra hungry. I must have made at least three or four trips back to the kitchen, refilling my plate each time. (This was back in the days before I started running. I was a beefy 235 pounds and could eat like there was no tomorrow. And to think I called myself a starving college student.)

Somehow I managed to avoid slipping into a food-induced coma after dinner and made my way down to the family room where everyone was gathered. The conversation was lively and somehow we started telling funny stories about pets. Everyone it seemed had a funny story about a stupid thing one of their pets had done.

Then someone told a story about their bird. And that story sparked a memory about something stupid one of my friend's birds had done.

So I started telling the story.

For some reason the story sounded extra funny that evening and I started laughing as I told it.

And laughing.

And laughing.

And laughing.

Others were laughing as I told the story too but for some reason this story struck me as extremely funny and I was laughing harder than anyone.

Then in an instant, before I could even finish the story, I started coughing.

And the cough turned into a choke.

The next thing I knew, I was throwing all over myself. All four platefuls of food went from my stomach to my clothes in something like ten seconds.

There was a moment of stunned silence. I don't think anyone in the room had ever witnessed spontaneous puking before.

I wanted to disappear. Even the deepest, darkest cave wouldn't have been a sufficient place to hide.

It took only moments though for the shock to wear off. And after the shock was gone I could tell everyone wanted to laugh and were doing their best to control themselves.

Even my first wife had to stop herself from laughing as she grabbed my hand and took me down stairs to the laundry room to clean me up and find some clean clothes. (She finally had to excuse herself and go to another room to get all the giggles out while leaving me half naked standing between the washing machine and a pile of my own puke covered clothes.)

I don't remember talking to anyone else that night. My first wife drove me home as soon I was somewhat cleaned up.

I thought I was going to be the butt of family jokes for years. But no one who witnessed the incident ever brought up while I was around. But there were times after that I would catch them looking at me with a smile behind their eyes.

Turkey Dreams

I must have ate too much turkey this weekend because every night I had the most bizarre dreams. The strangest of them all happened last night.

I dreamed I was watching the Denver Broncos play the New York Jets. Denver won the game with a last second touchdown. From where I was sitting however, I could tell that the football never made it into the end one. After the game I wrote in this blog what I had seen gloated how the Broncos won a game they should have lost. For some reason the NFL commissioner, Paul Tagliabue, was a big fan of my blog and after reading my post decided that the victory should be awarded to the Jets.

Strange what too much turkey will do to you mind.

(And Mr. Tagliabue, if you read this blog, please note that I think Denver has fairly won all of it's games this year.)

Thanksgiving Memories

My worst Thanksgiving was not the one that took place two weeks after my first wife, Krista, died. It was the one that took place the year before I married her.

The Thanksgiving after Krista died was surreal. I was still numb and in shock over her death and the death of our daughter, Hope. It was also the first day in nearly two weeks that I had nothing to do. No funerals preparations or trips to the hospital. It actually felt good to sit on the couch with a plate of food and watch football all day. Looking back, it was probably a good for me to sit there and not have anything to worry about.

But it still wasn't my worst Thanksgiving.

That distinction goes to the one three years before. I was finishing my last year of college. I was engaged to Krista and had started a job with America Online the month before. I was grateful for the job. It paid well and provided benefits even for part-time employees like myself.

Holiday shifts were determined by seniority. And since I was literally at the bottom of the seniority pool, I had to pick from the shifts that no one else wanted. And when it came time to pick, all I found myself stuck with the 10:00 a.m. to 7:00 p.m. shift. Basically that meant while my family and Krista were enjoying Thanksgiving dinner, football games, and everything else associated with the holiday, I was going to be stuck answering customer service calls.

I tried to tell myself having to work that shift was a blessing in disguise. AOL was paying its employees double time and half for working the holiday and we desperately needed the money. I also thought that the call volume would be very low – so low there was rumor that they would probably send some people home early.

Thanksgiving arrived. I spend the morning with my family then about quarter to ten, drove to work. The streets were empty. Stores were closed. And those people I did see driving around had smiles on their faces as they were driving off to have Thanksgiving dinner with friends and family.

I arrived at work, put on the headset, and started taking phone calls. To my surprise, call volume was high. There wasn't any downtime between phone calls. Most people I spoke to complained about being on hold for over five minutes. Most people that called were with their family. As I talked to them I could hear their family in the background laughing and talking or cheering for their football team. Each call reinforced that I was stuck in front of a computer while others were enjoying the holiday.

After work I drove home. My family and Krista were playing board games and having a good time. I fixed myself a plate of leftovers and jointed in few hours of fun that remained.

For me that Thanksgiving is forever lost because I missed out time with my family and Krista. While they were having a wonderful day together and making memories, I was at work. Instead of being there to witness the meringue of a pie that caught fire (burns like napalm, Krista said) or picking raisins out of the stuffing or watching the Detroit Lions game with my dad, I was stuck in front of a computer.

I don't think I made a bad decision by working -- I did need some way to pay for the upcoming wedding and our life together. But it wasn't until years later that I realized how much I was really missing out on. I told myself there would be many more Thanksgiving days with Krista and my family.

Little did I know that I would only have two remaining with Krista.

But these last three Thanksgivings with Marathon Girl have been the best because I've appreciated every moment with her and our families. No matter how good or bad food or the overall day has been, I've learned to make as many memories as possible. Because you never know when this could be the last Thanksgiving with someone you love.

There is only one Thanksgiving in 2005.

One chance to make Thanksgiving memories.

I, for one, am going to do my best to take advantage of it.

Holy War

The Holy War is tomorrow and most people around the office are bleeding red or blue. That leaves people like me (who bleed purple), in sticky middle ground.

I attended one of these games a few years back with Eugene. Someone gave me some free tickets or something and since Eugene is always up for a good football game I took him. I don't think either side was playing for much that year. I think they were both going through mediocre seasons and had little or no chance for a bowl game.

What I do remember (aside from the fact is was freezing cold and I left the game feeling numb) was the zealot-like intensity of fans on both sides. Eugene and I were sitting in a section that had a good mix of both fans, I seriously thought a war was going to break out in the stands. I've been to my fair share of sporting events in my day, but never seen fans hate each other as much as I did that Saturday.

I'm all for a spirited rivalry. I love to hate the Raiders, for example, but I don't claim some sort of moral superiority to Raider fans when the Broncos win. In this war, both sides seem to think that their side gets a year of moral authority.

Personally I'll be glad when things return to normal in the office. After Saturday, the college football season will be over and we can start thinking about something much more important.