Regular readers have probably noticed I haven’t been posting nearly as often as I used to. And when I have posted recently, it has usually been something short — sometimes just a picture. This slacking on my web site is partly because of new complications in our life, (like my mother-in-law having surgeries), and partly because I’ve wanted to spend more time with my family in general. My family is very important to me.

My boys, my sons, are my first duty in life. When I agreed to bring children into our life, I made a solemn promise that they would take precedence over all else. There was no official swearing in, or oath to recite. There was no sign or marker to show exactly when and where “things changed.” I can’t even point to a birth date on a calendar to identify where my responsibilities shifted from just the two of us to this little one or these little ones. I think the change actually happened before the first birth. Things just kind of “became.”

It seems that one day, you and the wife are out on a quiet, peaceful dinner, then the next day you’re walking out of the hospital holding a bundled, tiny, new life in your arms. A new life that completely, totally relies on you for absolutely everything. Regarding raising children, my family and friends have heard me make this observation a few times: the years go by so fast, but the days are so long.

Kids can try your patience every day, all day. Every hour, every minute. But it seems like every time your blink, they reach a new stage in their life. After bringing them home from the hospital, the next thing you know is they’re walking, talking, going to school. They advance in grades. They join a soccer team, start playing an instrument. They stop holding your hand, they start having interesting conversations. They graduate. They move off on their own. And slowly, over all that time, stop relying on you for absolutely everything.

I’m not to that point with my boys. They still rely on us for everything. They have other people in their world now, new and close friends, but we, their mother and father, are still the base and foundation of their world. The unspoken promise we made sometime before or after they were born is still sacred and strong. I would give up anything and everything for the well being of my children. I’d give up my own life and happiness to protect and ensure their well being. The sacrifices that parents make for their children are more than just sleep and money, time and sanity. It’s impossible to describe or enumerate what a parent gives and gives up for their children, (like it’s impossible to describe “love”), but it’s no less real and tangible to the parents and to the children.

On this Father’s Day, tell your parents — both father and mother, and other — that you appreciate all they’ve done for you. I’ve lost both my fathers, but I still have my mother, and I hope she knows I now understand what she has done for me and my brother. I understand the love and care and sacrifices and gifts she has given for her children.

My boys mean the world to me. Being their father is the greatest gift, the greatest responsibility, the greatest love, the greatest sacrifice, the greatest adventure I have ever undertaken.

The above photo is from the first day of school last June — 2nd grade and 6th grade. They’re tracked out, (year-round schedule), right now, so we’ll get a new pic for this year in a couple of weeks.

Wifegrit called me at my office Friday to ask me to run an errand on my way home from work.

“I’ve been so busy with the boys tracked out the past couple of weeks,” she said, “that I haven’t been able to get to the store over there.”

“What do you need me to do?” I asked.

“I need you to pick up your Father’s Day gift.”

We both burst out laughing.

“Seriously?” I said.

“Yeah,” she answered, sheepishly. “I’ve researched it, and the only place it’s in stock is over there. I just can’t get out that way. And since I work this weekend, I won’t have a chance before Sunday.” [She is a maternity nurse every other weekend.]

She told me what the gift was — something I’d been talking about wanting for several days, ever since she mentioned seeing one on Pinterest.

“OK,” I said, “I’ll get it.” And I did.

When I got home afterward, she was out on the front porch when I drove into the driveway. I stopped in the driveway, rolled down my window, and casually dangled the bag out the window while looking off the other way at something. She hustled up to me, quickly snatched the bag and ran inside with it. Then I pulled on into the garage. I’m looking forward to the gift. Maybe I’ll post a review of it later.

Bullgrit

A few weeks ago, my wife’s mother had back surgery. She had a brace put in to support her spine. We are the only family my mother-in-law has in this area, so Wifegrit has been with her a lot. For hours, daily, in the hospital for the first surgery, and then a second surgery a couple of days later to fix a problem from the first, then in the rehab center, then in another rehab center. Her mom’s recovery progress has been up and down, some good days, some bad days. Then this weekend she went back to the hospital for some tests to determine why she was having so much difficulty. Turns out she has a fracture in her spine, and it became infected.

So she had another, (a third), surgery to fix this problem. Now she’s having to start the recovery process all over again. This has been a long and tiring process. Draining for Wifegrit both physically and emotionally. Wifegrit has not only had to help her mother with direct personal assistance, but she’s had to deal with hospital and rehab center personnel and decisions.

I’ve helped as much as I could, even if just being moral and emotional support for Wifegrit, but really, she’s borne the majority of the responsibility and work with her mother. I hate seeing my wife stressed out. She’s handled it pretty well, considering, but still, I see it wearing on her over time. And knowing that this is all restarting because of this latest surgery makes me sad. I want her mom to get better, and I want my wife to get her normal life back.

I’m going to plan a good vacation for us, just the two of us, sometime in the later summer. Maybe I’ll take her back to Disney World, her favorite place. She definitely needs a little peace and relaxation and fun. A respite from all this stress she’s had over the past weeks.

Bullgrit

I am really so tired of hearing, “I’m just ….”

“Son, let’s close the book at the dinner table.”
— “But I’m just looking at the pictures.”

“Don’t run in the parking lot.”
— “But I’m just going to the van.”

“I asked you to log off World of Warcraft.”
— “But I’m just checking my quests.”

“Close the door behind you when you come in.”
— “But I’m just getting a cup of water.”

“Give the DS back to your brother.”
— “But I’m just checking his saved game.”

“Don’t wear your shoes upstairs.”
— “But I’m just going to my room to get a NERF gun.”

“Swallow what you have in your mouth before talking.”
— “But I’m just telling Mom what I want for dessert.”

Aaaargh! I know what you’re “just” doing! What you’re “just” doing doesn’t change the situation. That you’re “just” doing X doesn’t negate what I told you to do or not do.

I SWEAR! It drives me nuts. Kids seem to think that if they’re “just” doing something, (rather than, I don’t know, “really” doing something?), they can ignore rules or instructions.

If the rule is that no one wears shoes upstairs, they seem to think that only applies if they are going to stay upstairs for the rest of the day. Or if they’re supposed to log off their game, they don’t have to if they’re not actively in a monster battle or something “real”.

How can a parent teach kids that “just” doing something doesn’t magically make rules and instructions inapplicable?

Bullgrit

The Rugged Maniac is a 5K (3.1 mi) run with 20+ obstacles. It’s not the only one of its kind, (there are probably a couple dozen brands of obstacle runs), but it was the first spring-time one close to my home, so it’s the one I choose to take on. I wanted to wait till spring so the weather would be warm because getting wet and muddy is a basic part of these kinds of runs. I don’t enjoy cold weather, and I totally hate cold water. So the irony that the weather for this day turned cold was a serious frustration. The outdoor temp was 20 degrees colder (52 degrees) on the day of the race than the day before (72 degrees).

We arrived at the event’s remote parking lot a little over an hour before my race start time, (as the event instructions suggested), and we stood in a long line, in the biting cold wind, to wait for the buses to take us to the event location. We weren’t the only ones complaining about the cold weather. Most everyone in line was dressed in warm-weather running clothes, (shorts or tights). I was wearing shorts with a windbreaker jacket over a long-sleeve t-shirt over a sleeveless t-shirt. People were constantly moving about to try and keep warm. Wifegrit and Calfgrit8 were wrapped up together in a blanket she keeps in the back of the van.

Eventually we arrived at the event grounds. There were tons of people there, waiting in lines, walking to and fro, standing around to the sides, etc. We waited in another line to check in and get our arm bands and my race number. The first race heats had started about an hour before, and we saw some of those runners coming out of the race grounds. They were all covered in orange/brown mud.

My heat was scheduled for 11:15, and I was one of the first to enter the starting corral. I took off my windbreaker, but left on my long-sleeve t-shirt over my sleeveless t-shirt. Waiting for the full heat crowd to gather up, I made my way up to the very front, right on the tape. I didn’t want to get caught behind a bunch of people in a bottleneck when we reached the obstacles. I wanted to keep moving, going as fast as I could. I was there to move. The folks up at the front of the group looked ready to go, and the folks at the back looked ready to party and fool around with friends. That’s all well and fine, but I wasn’t there with friends — I was there to prove to myself that I was a total badass, and to show off to my boys :-)

Yeah, I can admit that I was pretty cocky, especially for a guy who had never run any kind of obstacle course in his life. (And double especially for a guy coming up on 46 years old, and who was only 3 years into real fitness.)

The announcer got the crowd revved up with some cheering, and then gave the count down. When the airhorn sounded, we on the front lines bolted onto the course. I ran at about 90% of my top speed for the first 200 yards, keeping up with the lead dozen runners. The path was not a cleared or flat trail — it was cordoned off with yellow tape, pitted and rutted by the previous runners, with trees and fallen logs as natural obstacles. It was like running through the woods behind the house in my childhood years.

After that first 200 yards, I realized there was no way I’d be able to keep that pace for the entire 3 miles. Not just because the speed itself was hard to maintain, but because the ground was so rough, (and sometimes slippery), that I was afraid I’d fall and injure myself. (I had already stumbled a couple of times.) So I geared down to about 50% of my top speed, to about a jogging pace. That’s when the first woman passed me on the course. The lead dozen were all guys in their 20s, and they quickly disappeared in the trail ahead of me. I looked back and saw the rear three-quarters of the heat were spreading out in a long line behind me. Soon though, the trail twisted and turned so much that I couldn’t see more than several yards ahead of or behind me. Another woman passed me, and I determined I wouldn’t fall any further behind. I tried to match her pace, hanging just a few strides behind her. (Yeah, call me sexist for not wanting to be beat by a girl.)

For the first maybe half mile, it was just running through rough terrain, around trees, jumping ditches. But then I came to the first real obstacle: a natural stream. I hopped down the bank and then into the water. Whoah! It was almost chest deep, and frigging cold! Coming up on the other side required clawing and crawling up the bank, dragging pounds of water, mud, and leaves with me. Then there were wide trenches to leap across, more running, then four-feet high walls to get over, more running, then tires in the trail and hanging from ropes, more running, then tunnels to crawl through on hands and knees.

The roof of the tunnels were only a couple inches above my back, so there was no possibility of going through just crouched over. And this was the first time I encountered what I considered the real torture of the course: the mud in the tunnels was not soft and squishy. (Well parts of it were.) Most of it was hard, and all of it was full of rocks and sticks, such that it felt like crawling through broken glass and nails. Really, this surprised me, and hurt like hell. But I made it through with some gratuitous cursing.

Up and out of the tunnel, and I was running again. Up and down hills, around twists and turns, dodging vertical trees and horizontal limbs, stumbling and slipping through the trampled ground, it was all really hard work. The woman I had been trying to keep pace with had slowly out-distanced me, but I was passing many other runners, presumably the tail end of the previous heat. A few people were stopped on the side of the trail, resting, but most were walking, apparently having reached the end of their running stamina. Really, damn, this thing was not an easy jog.

Somewhere around half or two-thirds the way along, I came out of the woods and into an open area where the trail loops and twists a lot more, and where most of the constructed obstacles and mud were located. This area, being in an outdoor arena, (actually an outdoor motocross course), you could see many of the obstacles long before you reached them. You could see many of the other runners along the various stages of this last leg, and also the spectators could see all the runners taking on the course. I got glimpses of all this only occasionally, when I dared to look up from the trail directly before my feet. The trail was so pitted, rutted, wet, muddy, and slippery that it took all of my tired concentration to keep moving without stumbling. But I did spot my family on the sidelines at one point, and I flashed them the “I love you” sign as I ran by.

In the area area, the obstacles were specifically designed to get the runners wet and muddy. There were small plastic tunnels to slide down, (face first), into muddy water, then small plastic tunnels to climb up through, (using thin ropes inside). Sliding down into that first water pit, I got a mouth full of brown water. Yargh! There are a few pools of muddy water you have to jump or fall into along this course, and I think I failed to completely keep my mouth tight every time.

There were mud crawls covered by barbed wire to keep you low on your hands and knees. (Some of the barbed wire was so low you had to keep your stomach to the ground to get under it.) My shirt and pants each got snagged once. Again, all of these mud crawls were full of rocks and sticks that hurt like hell for the entire crawl. At one point I noticed my left knee was bleeding down my shin. I thought it kind of cool, (a “battle wound”), at first, but then I had to force myself not to think about what germs I might be grinding into that cut every time I crawled through more mud.

There were balance beams over a water pit. Vertical log poles that you had to jump from one to the next. Slippery muddy hills to climb with the help of thin ropes, then slide down the other side. (Although sliding down a muddy hill sounds fun, when the rocks and sticks tear up your legs and butt, it ain’t fun. Seriously, those rocks and sticks in the mud were the parts of the obstacles I hated the most, even more than the cold wind blowing across our wet bodies.)

And there were several 12-feet high walls to scale up and down. These were fun, although not at all easy, especially when you’re already so tired and worn out from the running. These were the strength and endurance challenges I wanted and loved.

Some of the obstacles were bottlenecks in the course, where I had to wait for a minute or two to take my turn. (Again, I presume the crowd was from the tail end of the previous heat, because I know I was in the lead 25%, or better, of my heat.) Also, at the first bottleneck, I found myself right behind the woman whom I had tried to keep up with earlier. So although she got away from me in the woods, I caught up with her in the arena. Although I had started out not wanting to get caught in a crowd, I came to appreciate the standing still to catch my breath. The course is not easy. It’s damn hard. A worthy challenge.

The last obstacle had the longest back up. To scale a 12-foot wall by rope, to a ledge, then another wall like a ladder, then over a suspended net, then down two more walls on the other side.

Yeah, I was exhausted, but not spent so much as to give up.

Immediately ahead of me at this wall was a group of women in a team. As each one tried to pull themselves up the smooth wall with the rope, those behind her would push her up. But when the last was watching the penultimate reach the ledge, she shouted up, “I don’t know if I’ll be able to get up there!”

I offered, “I can help you, but . . .” I held up my hands in front of me.

She laughed and said, “I don’t mind if you touch me, so long as I get up there.”

So when she started pulling on the rope, I put my hands to her backside, (as she had done to her friends ahead of her), and pushed her up to her friends’ hands reaching down for her.

Then it was my turn. When the ledge above was cleared of climbers, I grabbed the rope and pulled myself up. I’m most proud of my performance on this obstacle because I managed to get up, across, and back down with no help. Not that I had help on any of the previous obstacles, but there were many people who couldn’t do this without help from below or above, (or both). You can see in the picture how many people were helping each other get up this last wall. We had all run for over three miles, overcome almost two dozen obstacles, endured the cold, and suffered the cuts and scratches, and this wall was steep and slick.

After coming down from the last wall, it was a short sprint to the finish line where my wife and boys were waiting for me with cheers. But no one would give me a hug.

For comparison, here is before and after:

My total race time had been just under 1 hour and 5 minutes. (I can usually run 5K in around 30 minutes.) We went off to a corner of the event field, where several other finishers had gathered, and I rinsed off and changed clothes for the trip home.

My thoughts on the race as a whole:

It was considerably harder, tougher than I expected, (and that’s a good thing). It’s not enough to practice running 5K like I’ve been doing. Most of the obstacles, I really enjoyed as challenges. But the rocks and sticks in the mud crawls were painful, aggravating, and left my knees and legs and hands scratched up quite a bit. (They’re healing well.) And the cold temperature of the day, especially with the cutting wind, was terrible, and killed much of the thrill for me. (But the temperature isn’t something the event organizers can control.)

I’m glad I did it, as a challenge I’ve overcome, but I probably won’t do it again. *IF* I do, I’d do it more into the summer months, (to ensure a warmer temp), and I’d wear gloves and maybe long pants for protection in the mud crawls. But then, I think if I have to do all that, meh, I can just skip it and play at a park with my sons.

Bullgrit