I'm heading over to the doctor today for a two week check up (That's right folks, one third of the way there!!!). He told me that if my cast had become too loose, or to put it more appropriately if my calf muscle shrunk too much from so much lack of use, he'd saw it off and throw a new one on there. I think my cast is still good. When it was warm in Miami, my cast was really tight. But now that I am homein the cold I suppose it is sorta loose. We'll see. Hopefully the blizzard we are expecting in the St Louis area today won't hinder my 2pm visit.
Anyhow, I got to thinking about a great new invention. I don't want to give off the impression that I am some sort of dirty freak or anything, but showering is a pain in the arse! It is less difficult than I imagined it would be, but it still requires a lot of will power and patience and I just don't want to do it every day. Trust me, if I need one, I shower. But if I can get by without one, I'll just slap some deoderant on and off I go.
The deoderant is important. Crutching is a work out, specifically of the arms obviously, so sweaty pits are an inevitability. And honestly, this is a good thing because it kind of lubes up where the crutch is, thus reducing and arm pit and rib cage chafing. This is how I survived Miami. But I'm always throwing deoderant on to keep my fresh smelling scent!
Also, the rubber pads of the crutches smell like, well, rubber. But not just rubber, some sort of nasty sweat infused variation of the classic rubber smell. Plus, I got my crutches on loan from Walgreens. Who knows how many other people have used these things or if Walgreens cleans and sanitizes the crutches when they come back in. Ugh!
So we have perpetual sweating. And we have nasty rubber smelling crutches.....
Ladies and gentlemen, I propose to you Degree Antipersperant Crutch Pads!!!!! Am I a genius or what!? The only hurdle we have to clear is getting that white stain all over your shirt, but I'm sure the technology is there. With each step, a new fresh scent is released. I can't believe no one has thought of this yet. Who's with me!?
1.31.2008
1.30.2008
Introducing... I Gotta Hand It To...
Last week we introduced a new feature to the blog called "In the Crosshairs" where I rip on something that is irking me. Today we introduce a new feature that pretty much serves the opposite purpose. "I Gotta Hand It To" will allow me to heap much deserved praise upon something super duper extraordinary. But Rob, I thought you would be nothing but cranky and vengeful during your time on crutches, how can you possibly find time to heap praise? Good question! "I Gotta Hand It To" will sometimes evolve from me trying to take my mind off of an incredible itch at the bridge of my ankle that is impossible to get to. Or sometimes it will stem from me longing to do something that I can't really do with the cast and crutches. So fear not, my sad story still prevails!!
Today I gotta hand it to... the creators of the video game Rock Star! Have you played this? Have you heard your friends, family, and coworkers talk about this. This game truly does make you want to trade in all of your responsibilities in life and try to become a professional video game player. Or in this case, a rock star!
Rock Star is the hot younger sister of the popular Guitar Hero, which requires you to hit the notes of popular rock songs using a guitar shaped game controller. When I first played Guitar Hero, while it was a fun concept and there was a significant amount of satisfaction involved with nailing a string of notes, it didn't leave me a changed person. I wasn't very eager to run out and buy it.
So when I heard about Rock Star, which allowed for two guitars, one regular, one bass, a drum kit and a microphone, it didn't pique my interest all that much. My pal Long Beach Adam (He actually brought the game with him home on the plane!) brought it over to the house over Christmas and we fired it up.
Playing guitar was the same as Guitar Hero, so that wasn't a big deal.
Playing bass was just like playing guitar, except it is easy. Really easy. You really get a feel for how sweet a life your average rock band bass player has. All he has to do is hold a beat on the bass, change chords maybe three times per song, and he gets to clean up the lead singers sloppy seconds every night! If I had life to do all over again, I would look into being a bass player!
The drums were pretty challenging. Apparently I can't keep a beat worth a lick. I am so white! I was pretty upset by this though because I am the classic air-drummer! I'm the guy you see at a stoplight pretending the dashboard is my drum kit. I'm the guy who when he runs with the iPod on will be running along and out of nowhere I'll spaz out pounding the imaginary tubs! In fact, my ferocious air-drumming may have caused my injury!! But with Rock Band I couldn't figure it out.
Then there was the singing.
I won't pretend to be any kind of singer. I don't sing in the shower. I don't sing along to my favorite tunes in the car. I don't sing lullabies to my son. I don't even sing in church and everyone sings in church. I think some people think they are going to hell if they don't sing in church so they just wail away and sound like a drowning kitten. Not me. I know my limitations. I might hum along or I might tap a toe (To the wrong beat, I guess.) or I might even hold up a lighter. But I ain't singing!
So when we were passing around the Rock Band paraphernalia and I ended up with the microphone, I wanted to turn it down. But after having a few 12oz cans of courage, I thought I'd give The Smashing Pumpkins' 'Cherub Rock' a spin.
I'm not sure what happened to me, but I felt like a rock star! And it felt good! I tore off my shirt! I grabbed my sunglasses! At one point I asked my wife to run and grab her leather pants out of the closet! All of this in my living room. And I'm sure I sounded horrible, but I nailed all the lyrics. And I was ready for the next tune! I put on a whole set list that night!
Stone Temple Pilots' 'Vaseline'. 'Synchronicity II' by The Police. CCR's 'Fortunate Son'. REM's 'Orange Crush'. Man it felt good! And I have no idea where this came from! I didn't know I had it in me.
What I can't understand now is how can a lead singer play a guitar too? Because during the intros to the song and the guitar solos, I just wanted to dance!! I jumped off the couch! If there had been a speaker in my living room, I would have jumped off of it! If the doorbell rang and outside was a group of kids forming a mosh pit, I would have jumped!! I couldn't have done this trying to play the guitar too. Mind you, I don't dance. I gyrate. I flail. I'm not as bad as Elaine Benes or anything, but I get my fair share of snickers when cutting a rug at a wedding or something.
But the game gets into your head. It tells you that you can dance! That you can sing! That you are a rock star!
I haven't been that into video games since Sega Genesis, specifically the NHL Hockey series of games made famous by the movie 'Swingers'. My roommate in college had a PlayStation but there were just too many buttons and I lost interest. Those new systems are damn expensive too! At this point I am fairly certain we will get my son an Atari at an antique shop. Who needs World of Warcraft when you can play Combat!?
But this Rock Band might be something to get. Of course, I'd have to buy a game system, then the game, then the guitars and drums, so the dollar signs are piling up. And on most nights in my house it is just my wife, son and I, so I wouldn't really have a band with me. Though, wouldn't that be something? My wife and I have a couple more kids and then we go out as an ass kicking, Rock Band champion family! We could be a new age Partridge Family!
Plus, right now I'm laid up with the foot thing. I don't want to do any gyrating or flailing with crutches. Or worse, I'd never forgive myself if I reinjured myself rocking out after I got the cast off. So maybe it is better that I don't own the game and only play it once in a while.
But I gotta hand it to the creators of Rock Band. I can see this game completely revolutionizing the karaoke Bar scene. This is karaoke on acid! If you're with a group of friends out on a Saturday night, would you rather sing one by one or storm the stage as a band and rock the house!!?? You watch, Rock Band will be in every bar like Golden Tee in no time at all! If you haven't played this, play it now!
Today I gotta hand it to... the creators of the video game Rock Star! Have you played this? Have you heard your friends, family, and coworkers talk about this. This game truly does make you want to trade in all of your responsibilities in life and try to become a professional video game player. Or in this case, a rock star!
Rock Star is the hot younger sister of the popular Guitar Hero, which requires you to hit the notes of popular rock songs using a guitar shaped game controller. When I first played Guitar Hero, while it was a fun concept and there was a significant amount of satisfaction involved with nailing a string of notes, it didn't leave me a changed person. I wasn't very eager to run out and buy it.
So when I heard about Rock Star, which allowed for two guitars, one regular, one bass, a drum kit and a microphone, it didn't pique my interest all that much. My pal Long Beach Adam (He actually brought the game with him home on the plane!) brought it over to the house over Christmas and we fired it up.
Playing guitar was the same as Guitar Hero, so that wasn't a big deal.
Playing bass was just like playing guitar, except it is easy. Really easy. You really get a feel for how sweet a life your average rock band bass player has. All he has to do is hold a beat on the bass, change chords maybe three times per song, and he gets to clean up the lead singers sloppy seconds every night! If I had life to do all over again, I would look into being a bass player!
The drums were pretty challenging. Apparently I can't keep a beat worth a lick. I am so white! I was pretty upset by this though because I am the classic air-drummer! I'm the guy you see at a stoplight pretending the dashboard is my drum kit. I'm the guy who when he runs with the iPod on will be running along and out of nowhere I'll spaz out pounding the imaginary tubs! In fact, my ferocious air-drumming may have caused my injury!! But with Rock Band I couldn't figure it out.
Then there was the singing.
I won't pretend to be any kind of singer. I don't sing in the shower. I don't sing along to my favorite tunes in the car. I don't sing lullabies to my son. I don't even sing in church and everyone sings in church. I think some people think they are going to hell if they don't sing in church so they just wail away and sound like a drowning kitten. Not me. I know my limitations. I might hum along or I might tap a toe (To the wrong beat, I guess.) or I might even hold up a lighter. But I ain't singing!
So when we were passing around the Rock Band paraphernalia and I ended up with the microphone, I wanted to turn it down. But after having a few 12oz cans of courage, I thought I'd give The Smashing Pumpkins' 'Cherub Rock' a spin.
I'm not sure what happened to me, but I felt like a rock star! And it felt good! I tore off my shirt! I grabbed my sunglasses! At one point I asked my wife to run and grab her leather pants out of the closet! All of this in my living room. And I'm sure I sounded horrible, but I nailed all the lyrics. And I was ready for the next tune! I put on a whole set list that night!
Stone Temple Pilots' 'Vaseline'. 'Synchronicity II' by The Police. CCR's 'Fortunate Son'. REM's 'Orange Crush'. Man it felt good! And I have no idea where this came from! I didn't know I had it in me.
What I can't understand now is how can a lead singer play a guitar too? Because during the intros to the song and the guitar solos, I just wanted to dance!! I jumped off the couch! If there had been a speaker in my living room, I would have jumped off of it! If the doorbell rang and outside was a group of kids forming a mosh pit, I would have jumped!! I couldn't have done this trying to play the guitar too. Mind you, I don't dance. I gyrate. I flail. I'm not as bad as Elaine Benes or anything, but I get my fair share of snickers when cutting a rug at a wedding or something.
But the game gets into your head. It tells you that you can dance! That you can sing! That you are a rock star!
I haven't been that into video games since Sega Genesis, specifically the NHL Hockey series of games made famous by the movie 'Swingers'. My roommate in college had a PlayStation but there were just too many buttons and I lost interest. Those new systems are damn expensive too! At this point I am fairly certain we will get my son an Atari at an antique shop. Who needs World of Warcraft when you can play Combat!?
But this Rock Band might be something to get. Of course, I'd have to buy a game system, then the game, then the guitars and drums, so the dollar signs are piling up. And on most nights in my house it is just my wife, son and I, so I wouldn't really have a band with me. Though, wouldn't that be something? My wife and I have a couple more kids and then we go out as an ass kicking, Rock Band champion family! We could be a new age Partridge Family!
Plus, right now I'm laid up with the foot thing. I don't want to do any gyrating or flailing with crutches. Or worse, I'd never forgive myself if I reinjured myself rocking out after I got the cast off. So maybe it is better that I don't own the game and only play it once in a while.
But I gotta hand it to the creators of Rock Band. I can see this game completely revolutionizing the karaoke Bar scene. This is karaoke on acid! If you're with a group of friends out on a Saturday night, would you rather sing one by one or storm the stage as a band and rock the house!!?? You watch, Rock Band will be in every bar like Golden Tee in no time at all! If you haven't played this, play it now!
1.29.2008
Miami Wrap-Up
You know how in the winter when we get one of those rain storms that drops an inch and a half of rain or something, and Diamond Dave Murray (Local St Louis weatherman.) rolls up his sleeves and tells us that we are lucky that all of this precipitation wasn't snow because the amount of moisture falling from the sky to produce a tenth of an inch of rain would also produce something like four or five inches of snow? Well, I think the same sort of conversion chart can be said about walking versus crutching. Obviously walking ten feet and crutching ten feet are the same; ten feet. But it certainly feels a lot more taxing to do it on crutches. So having said that, my body feels like it crutched far more than 26.2 miles this past weekend in Miami.
And before I go further it must be pointed out that I did turn down chances for help at several points. I didn't take the wheelchair service at the airport. We walked a few blocks on a few occasions when a cab would have probably been smarter. So perhaps I have no room to complain about being sore and tired and about how I wanted to toss my crutches javelin style into Biscayne Bay a number of times. But like I've been saying, I'm trying to remain self sufficient. Besides, I'm arguably in the best shape of my life. I'd rather be crutching around now than this time last year with an extra 30 pounds hanging around my frame and not a tone muscle on my body.
The funny thing was how the fatigue and soreness just gradually took over my body over the course of the weekend. By the time our plane landed last night, I didn't even want to get up out of the seat. I was so drained. I'm not sure I have ever been so happy to be home and in my own bed after a trip. I wonder if my body would have felt any different if I had actually ran the marathon.
Four days in Miami and I almost made it without taking a tumble, but that happened in the Miami airport as we were about to leave. I went to use the restroom. My first sign of trouble was when I read a sign that said "Cuidado. Piso Mojado." The floor was wet. So I took care of my business and then proceeded to wash my hands. Remember in when Bambi went out on the ice and his legs went four different directions? That was me! I put the crutches down and they slid out from under me and down I went. All of this in a crowded bathroom full of men. I was okay. Certainly more embarrassed than anything. And slightly grossed out because in a public men's' room there is equal chance that the floor is wet from being mopped or if it is wet due to piss. So I got up and scrubbed my hands like I was heading in to perform surgery on someone. And I really wanted to get out of my clothes!
It was a great trip though. Lots of good times. Lots of motivation to get better. My teammate Scott sold my sad story to one of the marathon officials after he finished on Sunday and was able to get me a finishers medal. It is really nice. It looks every bit as nice as the medals athletes get at the Olympics! There is a palm tree that spins inside of a circle that spins inside of another circle. The palm tree has a rhinestone in the middle of it. It is a really nice keepsake of what I went through, however I refuse to wear it. I'll display it. I'll show it to everyone. But it is a finishers medal, and I didn't finish. Sure, I worked my ass off only to have the carpet ripped out from under me, and for that I justify having the medal. But I won't wear it.
I'm weird that way. Every so often the Stanley Cup is brought to town for folks to go have their picture taken with it. And inevitably someone will ask me to go with them to see the Cup. And I refuse to go. The Blues haven't won the Cup. And until they do, I won't go near it. Same thing with this medal. When I finally run a marathon, I'll strap it on.
And before I go further it must be pointed out that I did turn down chances for help at several points. I didn't take the wheelchair service at the airport. We walked a few blocks on a few occasions when a cab would have probably been smarter. So perhaps I have no room to complain about being sore and tired and about how I wanted to toss my crutches javelin style into Biscayne Bay a number of times. But like I've been saying, I'm trying to remain self sufficient. Besides, I'm arguably in the best shape of my life. I'd rather be crutching around now than this time last year with an extra 30 pounds hanging around my frame and not a tone muscle on my body.
The funny thing was how the fatigue and soreness just gradually took over my body over the course of the weekend. By the time our plane landed last night, I didn't even want to get up out of the seat. I was so drained. I'm not sure I have ever been so happy to be home and in my own bed after a trip. I wonder if my body would have felt any different if I had actually ran the marathon.
Four days in Miami and I almost made it without taking a tumble, but that happened in the Miami airport as we were about to leave. I went to use the restroom. My first sign of trouble was when I read a sign that said "Cuidado. Piso Mojado." The floor was wet. So I took care of my business and then proceeded to wash my hands. Remember in when Bambi went out on the ice and his legs went four different directions? That was me! I put the crutches down and they slid out from under me and down I went. All of this in a crowded bathroom full of men. I was okay. Certainly more embarrassed than anything. And slightly grossed out because in a public men's' room there is equal chance that the floor is wet from being mopped or if it is wet due to piss. So I got up and scrubbed my hands like I was heading in to perform surgery on someone. And I really wanted to get out of my clothes!
It was a great trip though. Lots of good times. Lots of motivation to get better. My teammate Scott sold my sad story to one of the marathon officials after he finished on Sunday and was able to get me a finishers medal. It is really nice. It looks every bit as nice as the medals athletes get at the Olympics! There is a palm tree that spins inside of a circle that spins inside of another circle. The palm tree has a rhinestone in the middle of it. It is a really nice keepsake of what I went through, however I refuse to wear it. I'll display it. I'll show it to everyone. But it is a finishers medal, and I didn't finish. Sure, I worked my ass off only to have the carpet ripped out from under me, and for that I justify having the medal. But I won't wear it.
I'm weird that way. Every so often the Stanley Cup is brought to town for folks to go have their picture taken with it. And inevitably someone will ask me to go with them to see the Cup. And I refuse to go. The Blues haven't won the Cup. And until they do, I won't go near it. Same thing with this medal. When I finally run a marathon, I'll strap it on.
1.28.2008
You Can Do It!
I was supposed to run the Miami Marathon yesterday, but to commemorate the day, I decided to have a marathon day. Got up at 4am. Went to the starting area for the festivities and the 6:15am start. Went back to the viewing area near our hotel to watch the field and my teammates file through. Back to the finish line to greet my tired teammates. Grabbed a nap. Took the craziest, two train and one bus route to the Coconut Grove area for a post race party and dinner. Back to the hotel, via cab this time, and in bed by midnight. I'm not sure if I was as tired as the over 10,000 participants in the marathon, but I was beat.
I wrote how I was a little bummed out on Saturday because I was around all of the runners and it sorta sunk in that I wouldn't be doing this when I knew I should be. Well, I was more than little bummed out watching the start of the marathon yesterday morning. Staring at over 10,000 people whooping it up as the start neared and then watching the same 10,000 heads bob up and down across the start line was pretty cool, but knowing I worked so hard to be there and couldn't was pretty upsetting. I thought of all the running I did three and four nights a week that meant my wife had to bathe and put our son to bed and probably clean up the kitchen after dinner for me. I thought of all the team training days on Saturdays and how we all really felt great after completing our weekly run. I thought about how ecstatic I felt the day I rebounded from my first minor injury to run 13 miles and I felt great afterwards. And I will neither confirm nor deny that some of that upsettedness may have leaked out of the corners of my eyes and my nose.
I couldn't get too upset though as I found it way too funny that as the starting gun blasted and everyone took off, they blared Will Smith's 'Miami' over the loud speakers. Ha! That song has been running in my mind since our plane landed on Friday and now I was finally hearing it.
But on the way back to the hotel viewing area, I was fortunate to meet Rachel from New York. Rachel was in the same boat as I was in. She raised money for charity and trained for the marathon. She came to Miami with a team. She was wearing her jersey and her running number. Only she wasn't running because she came up lame with and injury too. It was her right foot, too! Only she had tendon issues. I wasn't dumb enough to think that I was the only person in a field of over 10,000 entrants who got injured training. But it was really reassuring to meet another one of those people. So Rachel from New York who was born and raised in Michigan, thank you for bumping into me yesterday morning. You did more for me yesterday than you willever know.
I must say that the whole marathon day experience is really inspiring. I've become pretty desensitized. Grisly news doesn't shock me anymore and the Mike Bush (Corny, local St Louis news anchor.), 'you gotta love it', heart string pulling stories of blind children playing baseball and what not don't move me either. This facet of me drives my wife nuts. But even I was pretty moved by the experience yesterday.
First off, it seemed like everyone was running for a cause. To qualify for the Olympic team or the Boston Marathon. To raise money and awareness for a cause, like we did. To raise awareness to atrocities going on in the rest of the world, like the guy who ran the whole thing holding a sign over his head that read 'Freedom for Venezuela'. To rebound from some horrible injury or illness, like the bald woman I saw clearly running away from cancer.
Then there were the friends running together. The husbands and wives or boyfriends and girlfriends or partners and partners running side by side or holding hands. I developed a bond with my teammates and I've only been running with them once a week since September, so for these folks who you knew trained together after work in the evening together and in the morning on weekends and went through each other's aches and pains along the way, it had to be incredible for them to reach their goal.
The other thing that struck me was the fact the all walks of life, all shapes, sizes, and ages were running. I think there is a misconception out there that marathons are for 'those running people'. I certainly believed that last May when I was approached to do this. But since then I discovered that I could do this and yesterday I discovered that anyone can do this. Seriously. I can't stress to anyone reading this enough that if you have ever had a sliver of thought in your mind to do something like this but came up with a million reasons why you couldn't do it, I'm going to give you one. You can do it!
And to see the looks on every one's faces afterwards and to hear everyone talk afterwards, if I wasn't hell bent on getting better and running one of these suckers some day before, I certainly am now. As I sit here in the hotel lobby typing away, I can hear music through the lobby's speakers. Right now the beginning chords of U2's 'Where the Streets Have No Name' are building to Bono's first words of the song.
I want to run.
Yes, Bono. I do.
I wrote how I was a little bummed out on Saturday because I was around all of the runners and it sorta sunk in that I wouldn't be doing this when I knew I should be. Well, I was more than little bummed out watching the start of the marathon yesterday morning. Staring at over 10,000 people whooping it up as the start neared and then watching the same 10,000 heads bob up and down across the start line was pretty cool, but knowing I worked so hard to be there and couldn't was pretty upsetting. I thought of all the running I did three and four nights a week that meant my wife had to bathe and put our son to bed and probably clean up the kitchen after dinner for me. I thought of all the team training days on Saturdays and how we all really felt great after completing our weekly run. I thought about how ecstatic I felt the day I rebounded from my first minor injury to run 13 miles and I felt great afterwards. And I will neither confirm nor deny that some of that upsettedness may have leaked out of the corners of my eyes and my nose.
I couldn't get too upset though as I found it way too funny that as the starting gun blasted and everyone took off, they blared Will Smith's 'Miami' over the loud speakers. Ha! That song has been running in my mind since our plane landed on Friday and now I was finally hearing it.
But on the way back to the hotel viewing area, I was fortunate to meet Rachel from New York. Rachel was in the same boat as I was in. She raised money for charity and trained for the marathon. She came to Miami with a team. She was wearing her jersey and her running number. Only she wasn't running because she came up lame with and injury too. It was her right foot, too! Only she had tendon issues. I wasn't dumb enough to think that I was the only person in a field of over 10,000 entrants who got injured training. But it was really reassuring to meet another one of those people. So Rachel from New York who was born and raised in Michigan, thank you for bumping into me yesterday morning. You did more for me yesterday than you willever know.
I must say that the whole marathon day experience is really inspiring. I've become pretty desensitized. Grisly news doesn't shock me anymore and the Mike Bush (Corny, local St Louis news anchor.), 'you gotta love it', heart string pulling stories of blind children playing baseball and what not don't move me either. This facet of me drives my wife nuts. But even I was pretty moved by the experience yesterday.
First off, it seemed like everyone was running for a cause. To qualify for the Olympic team or the Boston Marathon. To raise money and awareness for a cause, like we did. To raise awareness to atrocities going on in the rest of the world, like the guy who ran the whole thing holding a sign over his head that read 'Freedom for Venezuela'. To rebound from some horrible injury or illness, like the bald woman I saw clearly running away from cancer.
Then there were the friends running together. The husbands and wives or boyfriends and girlfriends or partners and partners running side by side or holding hands. I developed a bond with my teammates and I've only been running with them once a week since September, so for these folks who you knew trained together after work in the evening together and in the morning on weekends and went through each other's aches and pains along the way, it had to be incredible for them to reach their goal.
The other thing that struck me was the fact the all walks of life, all shapes, sizes, and ages were running. I think there is a misconception out there that marathons are for 'those running people'. I certainly believed that last May when I was approached to do this. But since then I discovered that I could do this and yesterday I discovered that anyone can do this. Seriously. I can't stress to anyone reading this enough that if you have ever had a sliver of thought in your mind to do something like this but came up with a million reasons why you couldn't do it, I'm going to give you one. You can do it!
And to see the looks on every one's faces afterwards and to hear everyone talk afterwards, if I wasn't hell bent on getting better and running one of these suckers some day before, I certainly am now. As I sit here in the hotel lobby typing away, I can hear music through the lobby's speakers. Right now the beginning chords of U2's 'Where the Streets Have No Name' are building to Bono's first words of the song.
I want to run.
Yes, Bono. I do.
1.26.2008
Musings From Miami
I would have updated yesterday, but the Internet access in our hotel room was on the fritz. Here is what is going on in Miami...
I would like to thank American Airlines and the fine folks at the Miami Airport for arriving us at what had to be the furthest gate from the baggage claim possible. In fact, I think our plane landed in Ft Lauderdale and then we walked to Miami to pick up our luggage. And yeah, there were plenty of wheelchair options I could have utilized, but I am trying to remain self sufficient. Besides, I had my son's car seat strapped to my back and my wife had no other limbs to carry anything with. I was needed.
And what an interesting place Miami International Airport is. It can be intimidating. First off it is very crowded! At least it was last night. And second, no one speaks English. Which is fine, especially because the language most commonly being spoken and written on signs is Spanish and I took six years of it in high school and college. But in that type of setting it can be a little disorienting. Plus there was just a ton of commotion going on. Maybe last night was a bad night for the Miami Airport, but I was glad to get in the shuttle bus and on to the hotel.
The airport scene reminded me of that part of 'Romancing the Stone', when Joan Wilder gets off the plane in Bogota and all hell is breaking loose around her. I'm not positive, but I think I saw a man at the airport last night with a live chicken!
I must say, I'm beginning to be a little bummed out that I'm not running the marathon. Now that I am surrounded by runners, it kinda sucks that they all get to go run tomorrow and I don't. Even worse, there was this video being shown at the place we picked up our race packets that was a high speed film of the marathon course in the style of that great movie Koyaanisqatsi. I thought, man, that's where I was supposed to go. After crutching all over South Beach today I thought to myself that maybe I could crutch half a marathon with the folks who walk. Then with a little rest, the fatigue and soreness of all the crutching I did this afternoon settled in and squashed any of those thoughts.
However, another part of me is quite relieved to not be running tomorrow. I think I'd be a nervous wreck right now if I was ten hours away from start time like everyone else is right now. So in a lot of ways I have been able to take this four day weekend in Miami with my family as a vacation, which was sorely needed for us. Besides, I still picked up all of my race goodies. Five years from now when I am jogging with my 2008 Miami Marathon shirt on, it'll look like I ran to to everyone else!
Florida is the home of monorails. At least to me it is. They may be other places, but I only seem to run into them in Florida. It must have been Disney World and their monorails that started the trend. But I have flown into both Tampa's and Orlando's airports before, and they both have monorails. I discovered yesterday that Miami's airport has a monorail. And downtown Miami has a monorail called the MetroMover.
This MetroMover is great because there is a station right outside our hotel and it takes us right where we need to be for the race. And plenty of other places too. And get this; it's free! I know!! So if you ever become homeless, find your way to Miami. Free transportation!! Good luck getting on the right train though. They aren't marked very well and getting on the wrong one means heading to a whole other part of town. I guess you get what you pay for.
I should be thinking about Crockett and Tubbs while being down here, or Will Smith, or the Golden Girls, but all I can think about is Zach and AC Slater and the gang from Bayside High on Saved by the Bell. But Rob, didn't Saved by the Bell take place in some fictional Bayside in California? Beats me. All I know is that everything down here seems to be Bayside.
Bayside Marketplace. Bayside Boulevard. Bayside Auditorium. Bayside Grill. Bayside Expressway. La Isla de Bayside. Bayside Strip Club. Bayside Bail Bonds. So naturally there has to be a Bayside High School around here somewhere, right?
Remember how I said the cast was comfortable? Remember how I said it was warm? Yeah, well that's all fine and good when it is 12 degrees out like it was last week in St Louis. 75, sunny, and humid ain't good cast weather. It gets all sweaty down there and when you are hot your body expands, so it was really tight. It pretty much sucked. Note to self, never end up in a cast in the dead of summer!
However, it made my day as we were walking back to the hotel and some random dude gave me a compliment. I'm crutchin' my ass off as I see the hotel, the light at the end of the tunnel! So I'm chugging along and going the opposite way on the sidewalk is this classic Miami dude. Tan, expensive shades, the whole Abercrombie look. We pass and he says to me "You're doing great, bro!" Seriously, that made my day!
This gets me thinking though. Should I remove 'dude' from my vernacular and replace it with 'bro'? Dude seems so yesterday, right? And I say it a lot! Too much. And now we have that whole Bud Light Dude Guy now that people seem to be bugged with. Maybe I need to work in some bro to what I'm saying.
I should probably head to bed now. I've got to be up in six hours for our team breakfast and as I sit here in the hotel lobby, some bellhop just walked by with a giant cart full of fruit for someones breakfast, maybe ours! That's my cue. Catch you later, bro.
I would like to thank American Airlines and the fine folks at the Miami Airport for arriving us at what had to be the furthest gate from the baggage claim possible. In fact, I think our plane landed in Ft Lauderdale and then we walked to Miami to pick up our luggage. And yeah, there were plenty of wheelchair options I could have utilized, but I am trying to remain self sufficient. Besides, I had my son's car seat strapped to my back and my wife had no other limbs to carry anything with. I was needed.
And what an interesting place Miami International Airport is. It can be intimidating. First off it is very crowded! At least it was last night. And second, no one speaks English. Which is fine, especially because the language most commonly being spoken and written on signs is Spanish and I took six years of it in high school and college. But in that type of setting it can be a little disorienting. Plus there was just a ton of commotion going on. Maybe last night was a bad night for the Miami Airport, but I was glad to get in the shuttle bus and on to the hotel.
The airport scene reminded me of that part of 'Romancing the Stone', when Joan Wilder gets off the plane in Bogota and all hell is breaking loose around her. I'm not positive, but I think I saw a man at the airport last night with a live chicken!
I must say, I'm beginning to be a little bummed out that I'm not running the marathon. Now that I am surrounded by runners, it kinda sucks that they all get to go run tomorrow and I don't. Even worse, there was this video being shown at the place we picked up our race packets that was a high speed film of the marathon course in the style of that great movie Koyaanisqatsi. I thought, man, that's where I was supposed to go. After crutching all over South Beach today I thought to myself that maybe I could crutch half a marathon with the folks who walk. Then with a little rest, the fatigue and soreness of all the crutching I did this afternoon settled in and squashed any of those thoughts.
However, another part of me is quite relieved to not be running tomorrow. I think I'd be a nervous wreck right now if I was ten hours away from start time like everyone else is right now. So in a lot of ways I have been able to take this four day weekend in Miami with my family as a vacation, which was sorely needed for us. Besides, I still picked up all of my race goodies. Five years from now when I am jogging with my 2008 Miami Marathon shirt on, it'll look like I ran to to everyone else!
Florida is the home of monorails. At least to me it is. They may be other places, but I only seem to run into them in Florida. It must have been Disney World and their monorails that started the trend. But I have flown into both Tampa's and Orlando's airports before, and they both have monorails. I discovered yesterday that Miami's airport has a monorail. And downtown Miami has a monorail called the MetroMover.
This MetroMover is great because there is a station right outside our hotel and it takes us right where we need to be for the race. And plenty of other places too. And get this; it's free! I know!! So if you ever become homeless, find your way to Miami. Free transportation!! Good luck getting on the right train though. They aren't marked very well and getting on the wrong one means heading to a whole other part of town. I guess you get what you pay for.
I should be thinking about Crockett and Tubbs while being down here, or Will Smith, or the Golden Girls, but all I can think about is Zach and AC Slater and the gang from Bayside High on Saved by the Bell. But Rob, didn't Saved by the Bell take place in some fictional Bayside in California? Beats me. All I know is that everything down here seems to be Bayside.
Bayside Marketplace. Bayside Boulevard. Bayside Auditorium. Bayside Grill. Bayside Expressway. La Isla de Bayside. Bayside Strip Club. Bayside Bail Bonds. So naturally there has to be a Bayside High School around here somewhere, right?
Remember how I said the cast was comfortable? Remember how I said it was warm? Yeah, well that's all fine and good when it is 12 degrees out like it was last week in St Louis. 75, sunny, and humid ain't good cast weather. It gets all sweaty down there and when you are hot your body expands, so it was really tight. It pretty much sucked. Note to self, never end up in a cast in the dead of summer!
However, it made my day as we were walking back to the hotel and some random dude gave me a compliment. I'm crutchin' my ass off as I see the hotel, the light at the end of the tunnel! So I'm chugging along and going the opposite way on the sidewalk is this classic Miami dude. Tan, expensive shades, the whole Abercrombie look. We pass and he says to me "You're doing great, bro!" Seriously, that made my day!
This gets me thinking though. Should I remove 'dude' from my vernacular and replace it with 'bro'? Dude seems so yesterday, right? And I say it a lot! Too much. And now we have that whole Bud Light Dude Guy now that people seem to be bugged with. Maybe I need to work in some bro to what I'm saying.
I should probably head to bed now. I've got to be up in six hours for our team breakfast and as I sit here in the hotel lobby, some bellhop just walked by with a giant cart full of fruit for someones breakfast, maybe ours! That's my cue. Catch you later, bro.
1.24.2008
My Billboard
So, as an incentive to get people to donate to the SSM Rehab Hospital in my name for this marathon, I mentioned that all donors would be mentioned on my running shirt. I actually asked people to come up with a funny saying or an inspirational quote or to dedicate my running to a loved one or something.
This was a part of the process that I really looked forward to. The big office supply stores sell those iron on transfers. So my plan was to print out a list of donors and whatever they asked to put on my shirt and then iron them on. Well, I hit a few snags with that. To begin with, in extremely fine print on the instruction sheet that accompanies the iron on transfers, it says you should do this with free floating text. Apparently they only work when using images or drawings, not just plain words. It also says that it should only be used on a 100% cotton shirt and my marathon team shirt is made of some space age material that is far from cotton.
So I inquired with a couple of screen printing companies to see how much they would charge for such a job and a couple of places I found wanted 70 cents a letter! Sheesh, at that rate this would be a $500 job!!
Then of course I won't actually be wearing the shirt to run the marathon. Yes, I'm still going to Miami. Yes, I'm still going to be a part of the marathon festivities. Yes, I told all of my donors they would end up on my shirt. But all of these snags added up and I kinda wanted to forget about the whole idea.
Then it dawned on me as I stared at the giant, plain white billboard affixed to my right leg. How fitting would it be, after what this whole thing has turned into for me, to write all of the names of my donors on my cast? So there you go!
My wife began the process last night of scribbling down all of these names. We had a pack of multi-colored Sharpies, so my cast right now looks a little bit like a bowl of Fruit Loops, only if Fruit Loops were like Alpha Bits. I really do think this is a fitting way to honor those who forked over cash in my name. Once we get all of the names on it, I'll post a picture.
And remember!! If you want your name on my cast, there is still time!! Click on 'Donate for Rob' to the right to donate to the SSM Rehab Hospital. Be sure to check the box that says it is a marathon team donation and that you are supporting 'Rob G.' C'mon, it's January. It's cold. No football this week. No new TV shows going on. Having your name on my cast could really brighten your January '08!!
Anyhow, that's all I got today. Busy day at work with meetings and then of course I need to get packed to go to Miami tomorrow.
This was a part of the process that I really looked forward to. The big office supply stores sell those iron on transfers. So my plan was to print out a list of donors and whatever they asked to put on my shirt and then iron them on. Well, I hit a few snags with that. To begin with, in extremely fine print on the instruction sheet that accompanies the iron on transfers, it says you should do this with free floating text. Apparently they only work when using images or drawings, not just plain words. It also says that it should only be used on a 100% cotton shirt and my marathon team shirt is made of some space age material that is far from cotton.
So I inquired with a couple of screen printing companies to see how much they would charge for such a job and a couple of places I found wanted 70 cents a letter! Sheesh, at that rate this would be a $500 job!!
Then of course I won't actually be wearing the shirt to run the marathon. Yes, I'm still going to Miami. Yes, I'm still going to be a part of the marathon festivities. Yes, I told all of my donors they would end up on my shirt. But all of these snags added up and I kinda wanted to forget about the whole idea.
Then it dawned on me as I stared at the giant, plain white billboard affixed to my right leg. How fitting would it be, after what this whole thing has turned into for me, to write all of the names of my donors on my cast? So there you go!
My wife began the process last night of scribbling down all of these names. We had a pack of multi-colored Sharpies, so my cast right now looks a little bit like a bowl of Fruit Loops, only if Fruit Loops were like Alpha Bits. I really do think this is a fitting way to honor those who forked over cash in my name. Once we get all of the names on it, I'll post a picture.
And remember!! If you want your name on my cast, there is still time!! Click on 'Donate for Rob' to the right to donate to the SSM Rehab Hospital. Be sure to check the box that says it is a marathon team donation and that you are supporting 'Rob G.' C'mon, it's January. It's cold. No football this week. No new TV shows going on. Having your name on my cast could really brighten your January '08!!
Anyhow, that's all I got today. Busy day at work with meetings and then of course I need to get packed to go to Miami tomorrow.
1.23.2008
Six Days In and I Have An Enemy
I'm not sure if you were like me when you were a kid, but when I was a youngling I always felt jealous of classmates who had crutches. Not necessarily jealous of the broken leg or ankle or foot and the pain they must have gone through to necessitate the crutches, just the crutches. I don't think I was alone. It seemed like there was a line near the kid with crutches at recess so everyone could take a spin on them. I remember one time the bell rang to go back inside and whoever had the crutches crutched back inside with them, leaving the kid with the broken bone sitting on the bench outside all by himself looking like Flick (Wow! Two 'A Christmas Story' references in this blog already and I'm not even a week in yet!).
But whatever the reason, I'd always get excited when some kid would hobble into school on crutches. Even a few years ago when my wife broke her ankle, I'd always tool around on her crutches like I did when I was a kid. Yee ha!! And now that I am six days into my situation, one thought keeps running through my mind.
What the hell was I thinking?
One thing is for certain so far. I hate the crutches. They are a major pain in the arse! As well as my arm pits. They have to be the most awkward pieces of crap ever constructed. Wherever you place them, they slide down the wall, counter top, desk, chair, what have you and crash onto the floor usually taking papers, drinks, jackets, and anything in their path with them. You can't move five feet without taking them with you. You should have seen me try to retrieve the mail last night while trying to manipulate the crutches at the same time. You should have seen me try to take two pieces of pizza out of the pizza box and into a Ziploc bag this morning. It took me twenty minutes!! All because of these stupid crutches.
When I found out a week ago that I required all of this, my knee jerk reaction was to assume that the cast would put the biggest crimp in my lifestyle. Oh no. Quite honestly, and I hesitate to say this because it will inevitably come back to bite me in the arse, the cast is quite comfortable. Seriously. It is warm, which is nice this time of year (Except for my toes. Thems is cold!). Having it gives me a free pass to lounge around on the couch whenever I get a chance. Itching has been at a minimum, and usually a wiggle of the foot or a flex of the calf muscle does the trick. The cast hasn't been a problem.
But these God forsaken crutches suck! When I woke up this morning, rolled over and looked at my crutches, I felt like how Jerry must have felt each time he saw Newman.
(Six days down, thirty-seven to go. Six days down, thirty-seven to go. Six days down, thirty-seven to go. Six days down...)
But whatever the reason, I'd always get excited when some kid would hobble into school on crutches. Even a few years ago when my wife broke her ankle, I'd always tool around on her crutches like I did when I was a kid. Yee ha!! And now that I am six days into my situation, one thought keeps running through my mind.
What the hell was I thinking?
One thing is for certain so far. I hate the crutches. They are a major pain in the arse! As well as my arm pits. They have to be the most awkward pieces of crap ever constructed. Wherever you place them, they slide down the wall, counter top, desk, chair, what have you and crash onto the floor usually taking papers, drinks, jackets, and anything in their path with them. You can't move five feet without taking them with you. You should have seen me try to retrieve the mail last night while trying to manipulate the crutches at the same time. You should have seen me try to take two pieces of pizza out of the pizza box and into a Ziploc bag this morning. It took me twenty minutes!! All because of these stupid crutches.
When I found out a week ago that I required all of this, my knee jerk reaction was to assume that the cast would put the biggest crimp in my lifestyle. Oh no. Quite honestly, and I hesitate to say this because it will inevitably come back to bite me in the arse, the cast is quite comfortable. Seriously. It is warm, which is nice this time of year (Except for my toes. Thems is cold!). Having it gives me a free pass to lounge around on the couch whenever I get a chance. Itching has been at a minimum, and usually a wiggle of the foot or a flex of the calf muscle does the trick. The cast hasn't been a problem.
But these God forsaken crutches suck! When I woke up this morning, rolled over and looked at my crutches, I felt like how Jerry must have felt each time he saw Newman.
(Six days down, thirty-seven to go. Six days down, thirty-seven to go. Six days down, thirty-seven to go. Six days down...)
1.22.2008
Introducing... In The Crosshairs
Alright boys and girls, it's time for a rant. I said from the outset that I would use this blog as a chance to get some things off my chest, and since I am pretty edgy this morning from having to uncomfortably shave and wash my hair on one leg in the kitchen sink, let's fire our first shot, shall we.
I mentioned in yesterday's training story blog that I lost thirty pounds training for this marathon. Well, who knows how high that number could have been if I would have let go of one of my passions, mocha based blended frozen coffee drinks. Most popularly known as Mocha Frappucinos at Starbucks, these caffeine electrified beverages are the straws that stir my drink! For all I know they are as healthy for you as a bottle of water as I have never bothered to investigate the fat content of these drinks, but I am quite certain they are fattening. But hey, I was running!
Now I would get my fix at Starbucks on occasion, especially when I needed to hit a drive thru. It also became easier to hit the 'Bucks, as Michael Scott would say, when they opened one up RIGHT ACROSS THE STREET FROM WHERE I WORK!!!! But usually, I achieved my mocha-gasm at the St Louis Bread Company, or for you folks who live outside the St Louis area, Panera Bread. Why BreadCo? Because I like to have a moderately overprice bagel with my coffee, not an outrageously overpriced, stale muffin. Plus BreadCo has a frequent coffee buyers card, buy eight, get one free!
Of course, now I am upset because I cannot really get my mocha groove on unless I drink it at the counter when they hand it to me. Having to commit my hands to the crutches limits what I can carry with me and beverages aren't transportable. I could hit the drive thru at the 'Bucks, but then I would need to risk a brain freeze downing the drink all at once in my car before exiting to go into work. Do you people see what kind of stress I am living under here, folks!!??
But the mocha based blended frozen coffee drink makers are in my crosshairs today because of how they are making my drinks. Little things bother me. I hate it when my wallet goes sideways in my pocket. I hate it when someone puts in a fresh roll of toilet paper or paper towels and it rolls under and not over. I hate it when the bagger at the grocery store puts the ice cream in the same bag as the bread. AND FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS GOOD AND HOLY, I HATE IT WHEN I AM HAPPILY SIPPING MY FAVORITE MORNING BEVERAGE AND I COME ACROSS A CHUNK OF UNBLENDED ICE!!!!!!!
I'm not sure why this bothers me so much, but man, it really does. If I am drinking a Starbucks' Frapuccino, with their skinny straws, the ice chunks clog up the straw thus not allowing me to enjoy my purchase. If I am drinking an IC Mocha from BreadCo, with their thick straws, I nearly choke on the chunk of ice. Either way, I can't win. (Though I must say, I am a big fan of the thick straw. More drink per suck, that's my motto! Starbucks should really look into a thicker straw. However, you BreadCo wannabe baristas, stop giving me the hot pink straw! It is feminine enough that I am walking around town with a bubble lidded drink with whip cream and chocolate sauce oozing on top, the last thing I need to top it off is a hot pink straw! You rang me out, you saw that I, a man, ordered it. Why in the world would you elect to give me a hot pink straw!? There are blue and green straws too. give me one of those. STOP GIVING ME THE HOT PINK STRAWS I TELL YOU!!!!)
Thankfully, I am here to offer up an easy solution to this icy problem. So all you baristas and wannabe baristas, listen up. Next time someone orders one of these drinks, do the following. Prepare the drink. Pour prepared contents into the blender. Turn the blender on. Let it blend. Blending is good. Blending is our friend. And just when you are ready to turn the blender off, let it blend another thirty seconds or so. Trust me. Don't worry about the line of people waiting. They are all paying $4 for coffee, they have bigger problems than waiting an extra thirty seconds for it. Let it blend, people. Let it blend. It's just that simple. No need to rush.
Better yet, make the drinks with ice cream instead of ice. Oh God! I'm weak in the knees just thinking about that!
And since I'm venting on the mocha based blended frozen coffee drink makers, let me fire one more shot at them. We're in the winter months. Despite what Al Gore tells you, it is cold outside. That doesn't give you the right to sarcastically question what I am ordering. Last week I ordered some of this frozen goodness and the girl says, "It's like 2 degrees outside. Are you sure you want that?" DON'T QUESTION WHAT I AM ORDERING! I KNOW DAMN WELL WHAT I AM GETTING MYSELF INTO!! NOW GET ME MY DRINK AND DON'T GIVE ME A HOT PINK STRAW!!!!!
So to all the mocha based frozen blended coffee drink makers, I give you.....
Three crutches upside your head!
I mentioned in yesterday's training story blog that I lost thirty pounds training for this marathon. Well, who knows how high that number could have been if I would have let go of one of my passions, mocha based blended frozen coffee drinks. Most popularly known as Mocha Frappucinos at Starbucks, these caffeine electrified beverages are the straws that stir my drink! For all I know they are as healthy for you as a bottle of water as I have never bothered to investigate the fat content of these drinks, but I am quite certain they are fattening. But hey, I was running!
Now I would get my fix at Starbucks on occasion, especially when I needed to hit a drive thru. It also became easier to hit the 'Bucks, as Michael Scott would say, when they opened one up RIGHT ACROSS THE STREET FROM WHERE I WORK!!!! But usually, I achieved my mocha-gasm at the St Louis Bread Company, or for you folks who live outside the St Louis area, Panera Bread. Why BreadCo? Because I like to have a moderately overprice bagel with my coffee, not an outrageously overpriced, stale muffin. Plus BreadCo has a frequent coffee buyers card, buy eight, get one free!
Of course, now I am upset because I cannot really get my mocha groove on unless I drink it at the counter when they hand it to me. Having to commit my hands to the crutches limits what I can carry with me and beverages aren't transportable. I could hit the drive thru at the 'Bucks, but then I would need to risk a brain freeze downing the drink all at once in my car before exiting to go into work. Do you people see what kind of stress I am living under here, folks!!??
But the mocha based blended frozen coffee drink makers are in my crosshairs today because of how they are making my drinks. Little things bother me. I hate it when my wallet goes sideways in my pocket. I hate it when someone puts in a fresh roll of toilet paper or paper towels and it rolls under and not over. I hate it when the bagger at the grocery store puts the ice cream in the same bag as the bread. AND FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS GOOD AND HOLY, I HATE IT WHEN I AM HAPPILY SIPPING MY FAVORITE MORNING BEVERAGE AND I COME ACROSS A CHUNK OF UNBLENDED ICE!!!!!!!
I'm not sure why this bothers me so much, but man, it really does. If I am drinking a Starbucks' Frapuccino, with their skinny straws, the ice chunks clog up the straw thus not allowing me to enjoy my purchase. If I am drinking an IC Mocha from BreadCo, with their thick straws, I nearly choke on the chunk of ice. Either way, I can't win. (Though I must say, I am a big fan of the thick straw. More drink per suck, that's my motto! Starbucks should really look into a thicker straw. However, you BreadCo wannabe baristas, stop giving me the hot pink straw! It is feminine enough that I am walking around town with a bubble lidded drink with whip cream and chocolate sauce oozing on top, the last thing I need to top it off is a hot pink straw! You rang me out, you saw that I, a man, ordered it. Why in the world would you elect to give me a hot pink straw!? There are blue and green straws too. give me one of those. STOP GIVING ME THE HOT PINK STRAWS I TELL YOU!!!!)
Thankfully, I am here to offer up an easy solution to this icy problem. So all you baristas and wannabe baristas, listen up. Next time someone orders one of these drinks, do the following. Prepare the drink. Pour prepared contents into the blender. Turn the blender on. Let it blend. Blending is good. Blending is our friend. And just when you are ready to turn the blender off, let it blend another thirty seconds or so. Trust me. Don't worry about the line of people waiting. They are all paying $4 for coffee, they have bigger problems than waiting an extra thirty seconds for it. Let it blend, people. Let it blend. It's just that simple. No need to rush.
Better yet, make the drinks with ice cream instead of ice. Oh God! I'm weak in the knees just thinking about that!
And since I'm venting on the mocha based blended frozen coffee drink makers, let me fire one more shot at them. We're in the winter months. Despite what Al Gore tells you, it is cold outside. That doesn't give you the right to sarcastically question what I am ordering. Last week I ordered some of this frozen goodness and the girl says, "It's like 2 degrees outside. Are you sure you want that?" DON'T QUESTION WHAT I AM ORDERING! I KNOW DAMN WELL WHAT I AM GETTING MYSELF INTO!! NOW GET ME MY DRINK AND DON'T GIVE ME A HOT PINK STRAW!!!!!
So to all the mocha based frozen blended coffee drink makers, I give you.....
Three crutches upside your head!
1.21.2008
The Training Story
I suppose now is as good a time as any to explain why I was slated to run my first marathon in Miami of all places. I mean, St Louis has a marathon. Hell, any town with more than a population of 5,000 has a marathon these days. Why Miami?
It all started last May when I attended a dinner held by the SSM Rehab Hospital's Foundation through my job. SSM Rehab specializes in rehabbing patients who are coming off of traumatic medical emergencies, like injuries sustained in a car accident or a stroke. They have giant room with all sorts of equipment designed to reacclimate patients to everyday life before they are sent home. In this room, which is on the sixth floor of a building, mind you, there is a car! A real car patients can practice getting in and out of and be sure to manipulate the controls properly. There are also mock up apartments with stairs, and for some patients they cannot be sent home until they successfully live in this mock up apartment for a few days, cooking, showering, doing laundry, etc. It's pretty neat stuff and until yourself or a loved one is involved with one of these life changing medical emergencies, it's something you don't really think of. Come to think of it, it probably would have done myself some good to spend some time over there last week after I got the cast put on before I went home...
Anyhow I was at one of the hospital's foundation dinners and I just had good conversation all night long. And before I left they asked if I would be interested in joining their foundation board. I thought about it for a bit. On one hand it was hard for me to think of myself on the board of anything. With a wife, a son, and various pets, the argument could be made that I wasn't even on the board of my own household. On the other hand it would probably be a good next step as a professional, and hell, as an adult.
So I joined the board and we started talking about fund raising and how their next fund raiser was this marathon team. They would recruit runners, beginners and avid marathoners, to train for a marathon and raise money for the foundation simultaneously. Because some, if not most, of the team members would be beginner marathoners, the Miami Marathon was chosen because it is nearly a 100% flat course. Other than the bridge that takes you to South Beach and back, there aren't any hills in Miami. They asked me if I would be interested in running this marathon.
My first reaction was to laugh. I wasn't running any marathon. Please! About four years ago I woke up one morning and just decided it was time to get back in shape. I hadn't done much in the way of athletics since my baseball career ended in college years ago and it was time to tone up my muscles. So I headed over to Creve Coeur Park, a pretty good park to take in a jog, and I was going to start running on a regular basis! I parked the car, got all stretched out, hit the path and started running. For those of you that don't know Creve Coeur Park, it has a pretty sizable lake and this path follows along the lake's shoreline for a distance. And the wind is always whipping off that lake! It could be 75 degrees with no breeze at all anywhere else in town and on that lake the wind is blowing across it at 25 mile per hour and it feels like it is 40 degrees! So I started running, into this gale force wind, and I probably made it 50 feet before stopping. I remember saying to hell with this!, getting back into my car, and going home. So when I was asked if I wanted to run a marathon, this memory flashed in my mind.
I just sorta told them that I might have some friends interested in doing something like this, but I wasn't the guy they were looking for. But for some stupid reason I kept thinking about running this marathon. What if I could do it? How awesome would a trip to Miami in January be? It wouldn't be that difficult to raise the money. Maybe I could do this. I couldn't shake any of these thoughts. And with the full expectation that I wouldn't be able to make it to the two mile mark, I decided to give it a shot.
There is a work out room with a treadmill where I work, so it was real easy to get started. I wasn't even worried about distance to begin with, I was more worried with endurance. I started by running fifteen minutes, Monday, Wednesday, Friday, on week one. Week two I bumped it up to twenty minutes. Week three, twenty five. And so on and so forth. I never quit. Just like Forrest Gump, I just kept running. I kept expecting myself to fold up like a tent and I never did. By August I was running for an hour and 45 minutes, which just blew my mind. Sure, other people did this all the time, but not me!
Then in September the team training started with the rest of the folks going to Miami with me. There was a text book handed out that details what you should do day by day leading up to the marathon (Which I admit to not reading enough of...). We began our weekly long workouts and I was on pace, baby! I wasn't looking to break any records or anything, my goal was to stay on my feet, hopefully run the whole thing, but be sure to run across the finish line. I wasn't so worried about my time, but I kinda had in the back of my mind finishing around four and a half hours.
Then the wheels slowly started to come off. The Monday before Thanksgiving I ran two laps around Forest Park before heading to work. Roughly 11.5 miles, depending on who you talk to. I ran, felt great, didn't step on a rock or a stick or a curb funny. I finished running and walked it off about a mile. I got in the car and proceeded to work, not feeling any pain or anything. I went to get out of the car at work and could barely walk on my right foot. There was a really sharp pain shooting through the arch of my foot. I hobbled into work, limped my way through a shower, went to my desk and that is where I stayed all day. I left in the evening and the pain was marginally better, but still pretty bad.
The next day was okay, the next day a little better. I started to pass the pain off as just part of the marathon training process. In fact, after Thanksgiving dinner I went out and ran four miles. It seemed like once I got running the pain went away, however when I stopped the pain came back strong. But again, it was sort of a "no pain, no gain", mentality. I ran again a couple days later and for the next couple of weeks I ran when the pain let me. It was weird pain too. Like I said, it started in the arch of my foot. Then it moved to the top of my foot. Then it moved to my ankle. How weird was that? By mid December I was starting to get fed up with the pain.
I called my doctor who referred me to a couple of orthopedists. But with the holidays approaching, no one could see me until mid January at the earliest. I couldn't sit out until then! So I decided to shut everything down and rest for a week. I didn't want to get off the training schedule, but I was running out of options. And it worked! The pain was gone! Not just the 'all the time' pain, but the 'after I went running' pain too! So I got back on the horse and went full speed ahead. On December 22nd, I reached my peak. I ran 13 miles and then walked another three, this only five days after starting to run again. I felt fantastic. I was more or less right back on track with the training schedule. Over that week I took off, I felt miserable. All the training for nothing. I was right about myself back in May, I couldn't do this. Then all of a sudden I was back and I could do this! What a great little Christmas gift to myself.
If you've read the rest of my blog, you know the rest. I went running on New Year's Eve. Developed a horrible, horrible, horrible pain in my right foot again. Tried to rest it off again. This time it wasn't having it. Finally with the help of my marathon teammate Shelby who got me into see an orthopedist she sees, I saw a doctor. An MRI and a leg cast later and here I am. Stress fracture of the navicular. The doctor suggests that this injury did begin with my episode in November and the fact that a week of rest made the pain go away for a few weeks give you an idea of how tricky treating this particular broken bone can be.
The funny thing is that I'm not upset over missing the marathon. I was really upset at the thought of missing it in December, but now I'm okay with it. I can't explain it. The way I look at it is that I raised money for the hospital, I lost thirty pounds, and I really learned a lot about myself. I learned that My body will do things that I had no idea it could do. I learned that my body will keep going sometimes when I really want to stop. And I learned that I can do this. So I'm really looking forward to healing up and tackling some other marathon in the future.
As for the Miami Marathon, my little injury occurred after I had paid for us to go to Miami. So even though I'm on crutches, my wife, my son and I are headed to Miami on Friday. It'll be a fun trip. We'll be with the marathon team and I think I am going to try to go through the motions as if I am running. I'm going to pick up my race packet of goodies! I'm going to the carbo-load dinner the night before. I'm going to get up at the crack of dawn to see the beginning of the race at 6:15am. My buddy Dan at work tells me that I should just crutch my butt on down to the starting corral and start anyway. We'll see about that. But the thought has crossed my mind to watch the beginning of the race and then head back to the hotel and ride the exercise bike (Yes, I can ride the bike with the cast.) for three or four hours to simulate running the marathon before heading back to watch everyone finish. We'll see about that too. Chances are I am going to try to relax and enjoy myself in Florida.
One last thing. In the event you are interested in donating to the SSM Rehab Hospital's Foundation, click the link to the right marked "Donate for Rob". Most of the folks who are reading this blog are friends of mine who have already donated (Thank you very much!!), but if you were cruising the web and came across my blog and somehow were inspired to donate, by all means. Be sure to click on "marathon donation" and put 'Rob G.' as the person you are sponsoring. And if you are reading this thinking, "Look at this a-hole. He's just looking to up his donation amount so he looks better! Jerk!" then make a donation and don't put my name down. It doesn't matter to me. The money, be it $5 or $5,000 goes to a fantastic cause.
It all started last May when I attended a dinner held by the SSM Rehab Hospital's Foundation through my job. SSM Rehab specializes in rehabbing patients who are coming off of traumatic medical emergencies, like injuries sustained in a car accident or a stroke. They have giant room with all sorts of equipment designed to reacclimate patients to everyday life before they are sent home. In this room, which is on the sixth floor of a building, mind you, there is a car! A real car patients can practice getting in and out of and be sure to manipulate the controls properly. There are also mock up apartments with stairs, and for some patients they cannot be sent home until they successfully live in this mock up apartment for a few days, cooking, showering, doing laundry, etc. It's pretty neat stuff and until yourself or a loved one is involved with one of these life changing medical emergencies, it's something you don't really think of. Come to think of it, it probably would have done myself some good to spend some time over there last week after I got the cast put on before I went home...
Anyhow I was at one of the hospital's foundation dinners and I just had good conversation all night long. And before I left they asked if I would be interested in joining their foundation board. I thought about it for a bit. On one hand it was hard for me to think of myself on the board of anything. With a wife, a son, and various pets, the argument could be made that I wasn't even on the board of my own household. On the other hand it would probably be a good next step as a professional, and hell, as an adult.
So I joined the board and we started talking about fund raising and how their next fund raiser was this marathon team. They would recruit runners, beginners and avid marathoners, to train for a marathon and raise money for the foundation simultaneously. Because some, if not most, of the team members would be beginner marathoners, the Miami Marathon was chosen because it is nearly a 100% flat course. Other than the bridge that takes you to South Beach and back, there aren't any hills in Miami. They asked me if I would be interested in running this marathon.
My first reaction was to laugh. I wasn't running any marathon. Please! About four years ago I woke up one morning and just decided it was time to get back in shape. I hadn't done much in the way of athletics since my baseball career ended in college years ago and it was time to tone up my muscles. So I headed over to Creve Coeur Park, a pretty good park to take in a jog, and I was going to start running on a regular basis! I parked the car, got all stretched out, hit the path and started running. For those of you that don't know Creve Coeur Park, it has a pretty sizable lake and this path follows along the lake's shoreline for a distance. And the wind is always whipping off that lake! It could be 75 degrees with no breeze at all anywhere else in town and on that lake the wind is blowing across it at 25 mile per hour and it feels like it is 40 degrees! So I started running, into this gale force wind, and I probably made it 50 feet before stopping. I remember saying to hell with this!, getting back into my car, and going home. So when I was asked if I wanted to run a marathon, this memory flashed in my mind.
I just sorta told them that I might have some friends interested in doing something like this, but I wasn't the guy they were looking for. But for some stupid reason I kept thinking about running this marathon. What if I could do it? How awesome would a trip to Miami in January be? It wouldn't be that difficult to raise the money. Maybe I could do this. I couldn't shake any of these thoughts. And with the full expectation that I wouldn't be able to make it to the two mile mark, I decided to give it a shot.
There is a work out room with a treadmill where I work, so it was real easy to get started. I wasn't even worried about distance to begin with, I was more worried with endurance. I started by running fifteen minutes, Monday, Wednesday, Friday, on week one. Week two I bumped it up to twenty minutes. Week three, twenty five. And so on and so forth. I never quit. Just like Forrest Gump, I just kept running. I kept expecting myself to fold up like a tent and I never did. By August I was running for an hour and 45 minutes, which just blew my mind. Sure, other people did this all the time, but not me!
Then in September the team training started with the rest of the folks going to Miami with me. There was a text book handed out that details what you should do day by day leading up to the marathon (Which I admit to not reading enough of...). We began our weekly long workouts and I was on pace, baby! I wasn't looking to break any records or anything, my goal was to stay on my feet, hopefully run the whole thing, but be sure to run across the finish line. I wasn't so worried about my time, but I kinda had in the back of my mind finishing around four and a half hours.
Then the wheels slowly started to come off. The Monday before Thanksgiving I ran two laps around Forest Park before heading to work. Roughly 11.5 miles, depending on who you talk to. I ran, felt great, didn't step on a rock or a stick or a curb funny. I finished running and walked it off about a mile. I got in the car and proceeded to work, not feeling any pain or anything. I went to get out of the car at work and could barely walk on my right foot. There was a really sharp pain shooting through the arch of my foot. I hobbled into work, limped my way through a shower, went to my desk and that is where I stayed all day. I left in the evening and the pain was marginally better, but still pretty bad.
The next day was okay, the next day a little better. I started to pass the pain off as just part of the marathon training process. In fact, after Thanksgiving dinner I went out and ran four miles. It seemed like once I got running the pain went away, however when I stopped the pain came back strong. But again, it was sort of a "no pain, no gain", mentality. I ran again a couple days later and for the next couple of weeks I ran when the pain let me. It was weird pain too. Like I said, it started in the arch of my foot. Then it moved to the top of my foot. Then it moved to my ankle. How weird was that? By mid December I was starting to get fed up with the pain.
I called my doctor who referred me to a couple of orthopedists. But with the holidays approaching, no one could see me until mid January at the earliest. I couldn't sit out until then! So I decided to shut everything down and rest for a week. I didn't want to get off the training schedule, but I was running out of options. And it worked! The pain was gone! Not just the 'all the time' pain, but the 'after I went running' pain too! So I got back on the horse and went full speed ahead. On December 22nd, I reached my peak. I ran 13 miles and then walked another three, this only five days after starting to run again. I felt fantastic. I was more or less right back on track with the training schedule. Over that week I took off, I felt miserable. All the training for nothing. I was right about myself back in May, I couldn't do this. Then all of a sudden I was back and I could do this! What a great little Christmas gift to myself.
If you've read the rest of my blog, you know the rest. I went running on New Year's Eve. Developed a horrible, horrible, horrible pain in my right foot again. Tried to rest it off again. This time it wasn't having it. Finally with the help of my marathon teammate Shelby who got me into see an orthopedist she sees, I saw a doctor. An MRI and a leg cast later and here I am. Stress fracture of the navicular. The doctor suggests that this injury did begin with my episode in November and the fact that a week of rest made the pain go away for a few weeks give you an idea of how tricky treating this particular broken bone can be.
The funny thing is that I'm not upset over missing the marathon. I was really upset at the thought of missing it in December, but now I'm okay with it. I can't explain it. The way I look at it is that I raised money for the hospital, I lost thirty pounds, and I really learned a lot about myself. I learned that My body will do things that I had no idea it could do. I learned that my body will keep going sometimes when I really want to stop. And I learned that I can do this. So I'm really looking forward to healing up and tackling some other marathon in the future.
As for the Miami Marathon, my little injury occurred after I had paid for us to go to Miami. So even though I'm on crutches, my wife, my son and I are headed to Miami on Friday. It'll be a fun trip. We'll be with the marathon team and I think I am going to try to go through the motions as if I am running. I'm going to pick up my race packet of goodies! I'm going to the carbo-load dinner the night before. I'm going to get up at the crack of dawn to see the beginning of the race at 6:15am. My buddy Dan at work tells me that I should just crutch my butt on down to the starting corral and start anyway. We'll see about that. But the thought has crossed my mind to watch the beginning of the race and then head back to the hotel and ride the exercise bike (Yes, I can ride the bike with the cast.) for three or four hours to simulate running the marathon before heading back to watch everyone finish. We'll see about that too. Chances are I am going to try to relax and enjoy myself in Florida.
One last thing. In the event you are interested in donating to the SSM Rehab Hospital's Foundation, click the link to the right marked "Donate for Rob". Most of the folks who are reading this blog are friends of mine who have already donated (Thank you very much!!), but if you were cruising the web and came across my blog and somehow were inspired to donate, by all means. Be sure to click on "marathon donation" and put 'Rob G.' as the person you are sponsoring. And if you are reading this thinking, "Look at this a-hole. He's just looking to up his donation amount so he looks better! Jerk!" then make a donation and don't put my name down. It doesn't matter to me. The money, be it $5 or $5,000 goes to a fantastic cause.
1.20.2008
My Biggest Fear
My biggest fear with this cast on is getting a cramp in my right leg. Specifically my right calf. I often rocket out of bed after being awakened by the extreme pain involved with my right calf muscle knotting up on me. So it is natural I suppose that I am fearful of this happening with the cast on. The remedy to such a cramp is to bend my toes back towards my face. Obviously with the cast I can't do that. Then again, the cramps are usually the product of my pointing my toes down in the middle of sleep, and I can 't do that either. So maybe I have nothing to worry about. But man, if this ever happens, I'll tear the cast off with my bare hands.
I must say, three days in and this isn't so bad. I'm sure I'll get damn sick of it soon enough, but it hasn't been the sheer hell imagined it would be. The two things I worried about the most after finding out I needed this was showering and driving, and both have been very simple. Plus, because the crutching is constant exercise, an all day work out, I have been sleeping like a rock!
But man, beware the cramp.
I must say, three days in and this isn't so bad. I'm sure I'll get damn sick of it soon enough, but it hasn't been the sheer hell imagined it would be. The two things I worried about the most after finding out I needed this was showering and driving, and both have been very simple. Plus, because the crutching is constant exercise, an all day work out, I have been sleeping like a rock!
But man, beware the cramp.
1.19.2008
The Damn Fool Returns
I went to college at the University of Missouri at Rolla. Rolla is a small town in south central Missouri and the college is widely known as an engineering school. I majored in history. One of the perks of attending Rolla was a second, mini-spring break fit in somewhere around St Patrick's Day. Rolla wasn't the biggest party school, but they brought out the big guns for St Patrick's Day! I was never really into that though. The whole green beer and "kiss me, I'm Irish" stuff never turned me on. Besides, why wait until March to party it up when any given Thursday worked just as well. So I usually tried to escape Rolla for this mini-spring break.
One year I drove all the way to Sarasota, Florida to hang out with some friends. Mind you, this mini-spring break was only a four day weekend. And I drove all the way to Florida for it. Anyhow, at some point over this weekend, I was dubbed the Damn Fool by my friends. And ever since, I've busted out the Damn Fool from time to time, going way over the top for seemingly meaningless stuff.
Was I going to let a broken foot stop me from going to see my St Louis Blues today? Hell no. Not when I had plans to go to the game with Brooklyn Mike (Who just happened to be one of the friends I drove to Florida to see way back when.) who was in town for the MLK weekend. And not when it was one of the most glorious promotions of them all at the Blues' game, free food day!!
On the surface, free food day isn't that big of a deal. It's just free food at the game. It isn't like Morton's is giving out free steak or anything. But for a guy like me who has season tickets for the Blues and has enough contacts with tickets to go to a ton of Cardinals' games each summer, I would hate to know how much I spend on food and beverage at the game each year. And free food day is my one day to stick it to them and gorge myself!
The only other thing in my life I can compare free food day to was a time when I was in Phoenix visiting friends. My pal Willie (Also in Florida that time.) got passes to the grand opening of the AMC Theaters multiplex in downtown Phoenix. There was food from a ton of local Phoenix restaurants, all of which was free. The snack stand was entirely free. And there was an open bar! After you stuffed yourself and drank like a fish for a couple of hours, you got to go watch a movie. So there we were, drunk as hell, watching 'The Big Lebowski' with our pockets overflowing with all the candy it could hold. We didn't need all of this candy, the logic we used was the movie theaters have been bending us over for years on concessions, this was our chance to get a little of it back. And since candy was something we could take home with us, we took as much as we could. Our friend Burbank Mike actually took his shirt off and made a sack out of it!! It was like Halloween, we all had candy for a couple of months!
Free food day at the Blues' game may not be quite as nice (No free booze.), but the same principal applies. And a broken foot wasn't going to stop me from eating all the chicken fingers, hot dogs, popcorn, peanuts, potato chips, bottled water, and soda I could handle.
The first Damn Fool move I made, aside from trying this on crutches in the first place, was probably bringing my two year old son along. But as a parent I am always looking for free options to feed him. Plus he gets into the game for free for being under three. Plus he freaking loves the Blues. He's better behaved at the game than he is anywhere else. And since I wasn't really looking to have a bunch of beer at the game and try to crutch drunkenly, I figured it was a good idea to bring Mason along.
The plan was to get there early. Not so much to soak up even more free food, but to be sure to get a spot in the parking garage adjacent to the arena. With Mason in tow, my foot and a 15 degree temperature, this seemed like the right idea. So we showed up at 11:45 for a 1pm game... and the damn garage was already full!! Blues fans showed up early for the free food. In fact, pretty much every garage and parking lot within close proximity to the building was sold out. We kept driving further and further away and we finally found a spot on the street. The good news was the street spot was free. The bad news was that it left us with a six block walk to the arena. With a two year old. And me on crutches. And a biting winter wind.
So on one leg, I bundled Mason up like Randy from 'A Christmas Story' and off we went. God, it took forever. I know this is a completely different kind of work out, but I can't understand how just weeks ago I could run 16 miles and immediately afterwards be breathing about as hard as would be if I had spent all that time reading the newspaper, and yet now when I crutch a hundred feet, I need to stop and catch my breath. Kudos to Brooklyn Mike for putting up with two slow pokes.
Anyhow, we get to the game and the smorgasbord begins. The Blues do free food day right. There is food everywhere! All of the stands are open with food, obviously. In addition to that though there are just makeshift stands anywhere they can fit one. 19,000 people at the game and you never had to wait more than ten seconds to get anything. It was great. But it is also kinda like Thanksgiving in the fact that you gear yourself up to stuff yourself, then you usually call it quits after just one plate of food. My final tally looked like this: 3 chicken strips (3 individual strips, not 3 orders.), 2 boxes of popcorn, and 3 bottles of water. We also stuffed a sack full of peanuts to be eaten this summer at Cardinals' games. But hey, the price was right!
Then we walked back to the car. At least the wind was at our backs this time. But man what a work out. At this rate I'll need a training bra as soon as next week to conceal my bulging pecs! And what did the Blues do for all my effort? They got blown out of the building by the Nashville Predators. Classic Damn Fool. A whole lotta work for a whole lotta nothin'.
At one point walking back to the car, Brooklyn Mike chuckled and we had this exchange:
BM (Not that I'm comparing him to a bowel movement or anything.): This might be the craziest thing you've ever done.
Me: C'mon, I've done some crazier things.
BM: No man, this is crazy!
One year I drove all the way to Sarasota, Florida to hang out with some friends. Mind you, this mini-spring break was only a four day weekend. And I drove all the way to Florida for it. Anyhow, at some point over this weekend, I was dubbed the Damn Fool by my friends. And ever since, I've busted out the Damn Fool from time to time, going way over the top for seemingly meaningless stuff.
Was I going to let a broken foot stop me from going to see my St Louis Blues today? Hell no. Not when I had plans to go to the game with Brooklyn Mike (Who just happened to be one of the friends I drove to Florida to see way back when.) who was in town for the MLK weekend. And not when it was one of the most glorious promotions of them all at the Blues' game, free food day!!
On the surface, free food day isn't that big of a deal. It's just free food at the game. It isn't like Morton's is giving out free steak or anything. But for a guy like me who has season tickets for the Blues and has enough contacts with tickets to go to a ton of Cardinals' games each summer, I would hate to know how much I spend on food and beverage at the game each year. And free food day is my one day to stick it to them and gorge myself!
The only other thing in my life I can compare free food day to was a time when I was in Phoenix visiting friends. My pal Willie (Also in Florida that time.) got passes to the grand opening of the AMC Theaters multiplex in downtown Phoenix. There was food from a ton of local Phoenix restaurants, all of which was free. The snack stand was entirely free. And there was an open bar! After you stuffed yourself and drank like a fish for a couple of hours, you got to go watch a movie. So there we were, drunk as hell, watching 'The Big Lebowski' with our pockets overflowing with all the candy it could hold. We didn't need all of this candy, the logic we used was the movie theaters have been bending us over for years on concessions, this was our chance to get a little of it back. And since candy was something we could take home with us, we took as much as we could. Our friend Burbank Mike actually took his shirt off and made a sack out of it!! It was like Halloween, we all had candy for a couple of months!
Free food day at the Blues' game may not be quite as nice (No free booze.), but the same principal applies. And a broken foot wasn't going to stop me from eating all the chicken fingers, hot dogs, popcorn, peanuts, potato chips, bottled water, and soda I could handle.
The first Damn Fool move I made, aside from trying this on crutches in the first place, was probably bringing my two year old son along. But as a parent I am always looking for free options to feed him. Plus he gets into the game for free for being under three. Plus he freaking loves the Blues. He's better behaved at the game than he is anywhere else. And since I wasn't really looking to have a bunch of beer at the game and try to crutch drunkenly, I figured it was a good idea to bring Mason along.
The plan was to get there early. Not so much to soak up even more free food, but to be sure to get a spot in the parking garage adjacent to the arena. With Mason in tow, my foot and a 15 degree temperature, this seemed like the right idea. So we showed up at 11:45 for a 1pm game... and the damn garage was already full!! Blues fans showed up early for the free food. In fact, pretty much every garage and parking lot within close proximity to the building was sold out. We kept driving further and further away and we finally found a spot on the street. The good news was the street spot was free. The bad news was that it left us with a six block walk to the arena. With a two year old. And me on crutches. And a biting winter wind.
So on one leg, I bundled Mason up like Randy from 'A Christmas Story' and off we went. God, it took forever. I know this is a completely different kind of work out, but I can't understand how just weeks ago I could run 16 miles and immediately afterwards be breathing about as hard as would be if I had spent all that time reading the newspaper, and yet now when I crutch a hundred feet, I need to stop and catch my breath. Kudos to Brooklyn Mike for putting up with two slow pokes.
Anyhow, we get to the game and the smorgasbord begins. The Blues do free food day right. There is food everywhere! All of the stands are open with food, obviously. In addition to that though there are just makeshift stands anywhere they can fit one. 19,000 people at the game and you never had to wait more than ten seconds to get anything. It was great. But it is also kinda like Thanksgiving in the fact that you gear yourself up to stuff yourself, then you usually call it quits after just one plate of food. My final tally looked like this: 3 chicken strips (3 individual strips, not 3 orders.), 2 boxes of popcorn, and 3 bottles of water. We also stuffed a sack full of peanuts to be eaten this summer at Cardinals' games. But hey, the price was right!
Then we walked back to the car. At least the wind was at our backs this time. But man what a work out. At this rate I'll need a training bra as soon as next week to conceal my bulging pecs! And what did the Blues do for all my effort? They got blown out of the building by the Nashville Predators. Classic Damn Fool. A whole lotta work for a whole lotta nothin'.
At one point walking back to the car, Brooklyn Mike chuckled and we had this exchange:
BM (Not that I'm comparing him to a bowel movement or anything.): This might be the craziest thing you've ever done.
Me: C'mon, I've done some crazier things.
BM: No man, this is crazy!
1.18.2008
What's the Diff?
Do you know what 'What's the Diff' is? It's a little puzzle in the newspaper that would put two very similar pictures together, only one of the photos had very subtle differences. Maybe the woman's purse wouldn't have a latch or the man's hat would be bigger. There'd be four or five of these differences. I don't know what your paper called it, but the St Louis Post Dispatch called it 'What's the Diff' and put it next to the crossword puzzle, the Jumble and the comics, or as I like to call them, the funnies.
Anyhow, my grandmother would always cut out the 'What's the Diff' every day so when I'd go over for a visit we'd hammer through a dozen or so of these. Like any kid, I needed to have my ego stroked. So being told I was a genius by my grandmother for pointing out that the car in the second picture didn't have an antenna was right up my alley! I don't even know if the Post, or the Daily Planet, or the Rhode Island Slut still offer up this little nugget of my past, but to give a shout out to my grandma, let's play a little 'What's the Diff'!
Photo #1
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Photo #2
Two different dogs. Duh!! The dog in photo #1 is Casey. She is scared to death of the crutches, which is why I couldn't get her into photo #2 (See the crutches to the left in photo #2. I bet you didn't catch that. I told you I was a genius!!). The dog in photo #2 is Kona, the one I am sure to cold cock with my cast one of these nights in bed.
Tomorrow I will attempt going to the St Louis Blues' game! Tune in tomorrow night to find out how that goes!!
Anyhow, my grandmother would always cut out the 'What's the Diff' every day so when I'd go over for a visit we'd hammer through a dozen or so of these. Like any kid, I needed to have my ego stroked. So being told I was a genius by my grandmother for pointing out that the car in the second picture didn't have an antenna was right up my alley! I don't even know if the Post, or the Daily Planet, or the Rhode Island Slut still offer up this little nugget of my past, but to give a shout out to my grandma, let's play a little 'What's the Diff'!
Photo #1
Photo #2
Two different dogs. Duh!! The dog in photo #1 is Casey. She is scared to death of the crutches, which is why I couldn't get her into photo #2 (See the crutches to the left in photo #2. I bet you didn't catch that. I told you I was a genius!!). The dog in photo #2 is Kona, the one I am sure to cold cock with my cast one of these nights in bed.
Tomorrow I will attempt going to the St Louis Blues' game! Tune in tomorrow night to find out how that goes!!
1 Day Down, 42 To Go
So, I got the cast put on yesterday afternoon, but that wasn't the most disturbing part of my visit to the doctor's office. No, no, my friendly doctor went over the formal findings of the MRI I had last week. He really emphasized how difficult it is to heal this navicular bone and how troublesome they can be. My doctor is a hell of a nice guy, but he wasn't being too reassuring. He even mentioned at one point that if being in a cast for six weeks doesn't heal it, we could be talking surgery with screws and plates and the whole nine yards. Huh!? Being in a cast for six weeks might not do the trick? Oh no!
Anyhow, I crutched my butt out of there and promptly nearly killed myself in the parking lot trying to make my way down two measly steps. I placed my crutches on step one, shifted my body forward to meet the crutches on that step and TIMBER!!!! I just kept on going. Had this little staircase been more than 2 steps, well, I don't want to think about how that could have ended up. I have a very long staircase to traverse at work. I'm getting a headache just thinking about how I am going to take that on.
I suppose it is also worth mentioning that this navicular bone is technically a part of my ankle. So medically speaking, I am not Rob with the broken foot at all. I am Rob with the broken ankle. I'm not sure how to approach this with the title of this blog. I mean, the whole world knows me now as Rob with the broken foot.
After crutching around all afternoon and evening it felt great to get into bed last night. However, when lying in bed and there's no TV on, and my wife was asleep, and it was just me and my thoughts, I started to get a horrible sense of claustrophobia with this cast. A minor sense of it anyway. Yeah, yeah, I know. I need to get over that.
Other cast related problems with sleeping? Well at some point I rolled over and scraped the knee of my good leg with the cast. And since this cast has the texture of a Ginsu cheese grater, my knee looks a little haggard this morning. Also, and though this didn't happen last night I know it is bound to, at some point I am going to cold cock my dog that sleeps under the covers between my wife's feet and my own with this stone-like appendage. Sorry Kona, it's gonna happen.
Now I am ready to tackle my first full day! The only problem is that I've awoken with throbbing arm pits and wrists. Just crutching to the bathroom was something I want to forget. I didn't think it was possible to limp while crutching, but I think I did that. I figured that this whole process would put the 30 pounds I lost training for the marathon right back on. I guess I was just too stupid to realize how much exercise crutching around is. At this rate by the time this is over, my arms and my left leg will look like the Hulk's!
Anyhow, I crutched my butt out of there and promptly nearly killed myself in the parking lot trying to make my way down two measly steps. I placed my crutches on step one, shifted my body forward to meet the crutches on that step and TIMBER!!!! I just kept on going. Had this little staircase been more than 2 steps, well, I don't want to think about how that could have ended up. I have a very long staircase to traverse at work. I'm getting a headache just thinking about how I am going to take that on.
I suppose it is also worth mentioning that this navicular bone is technically a part of my ankle. So medically speaking, I am not Rob with the broken foot at all. I am Rob with the broken ankle. I'm not sure how to approach this with the title of this blog. I mean, the whole world knows me now as Rob with the broken foot.
After crutching around all afternoon and evening it felt great to get into bed last night. However, when lying in bed and there's no TV on, and my wife was asleep, and it was just me and my thoughts, I started to get a horrible sense of claustrophobia with this cast. A minor sense of it anyway. Yeah, yeah, I know. I need to get over that.
Other cast related problems with sleeping? Well at some point I rolled over and scraped the knee of my good leg with the cast. And since this cast has the texture of a Ginsu cheese grater, my knee looks a little haggard this morning. Also, and though this didn't happen last night I know it is bound to, at some point I am going to cold cock my dog that sleeps under the covers between my wife's feet and my own with this stone-like appendage. Sorry Kona, it's gonna happen.
Now I am ready to tackle my first full day! The only problem is that I've awoken with throbbing arm pits and wrists. Just crutching to the bathroom was something I want to forget. I didn't think it was possible to limp while crutching, but I think I did that. I figured that this whole process would put the 30 pounds I lost training for the marathon right back on. I guess I was just too stupid to realize how much exercise crutching around is. At this rate by the time this is over, my arms and my left leg will look like the Hulk's!
1.17.2008
Poor Little Billy Goat
See, this is what I have the blog for.
I left work to go home to meet my sister in law who is taking me to have this cast put on. My doctor's office is stuck in the stone ages and only accepts cash (which i never have on me) or checks (ha!). So I called the office to see if a co-pay would be due today with the installation of this cast so I would then remember to grab a check from home before I went to the doctor. Seemed like a simple enough task, right?
So I'm leaving work, which is very close to Carondalet Park in South St Louis, and to get to the highway, I have to actually drive through the park. I'm doing this and dialing the doctor's office at the same time. I get the number all entered in and press "talk", which would begin the dialing process. At the very moment I do this and raise the phone to my ear, I look off to my right and lying dead as a rock in the middle of the park is a goat! Not a raccoon or a possum (or opossum if you must) or a cat or a dog. A goat!! Like one of the little goats from Grant's Farm or the zoo! How did a dead goat get into Carondalet Park!!??
Now, I find that when I am driving around by myself, I talk to myself. Yeah, I know. It's silly, but I do it. And since my wife strongly prefers I keep my profanity spewing to a minimum when I am around my two and a half year old son, I often find myself cursing like a sailor when talking to myself.
So take that nugget of info, add my pure shock and horror of seeing a dead, stiff as a board with all four legs pointing to the sky goat in the middle of Carondalet Park, and out of my mouth shouts, "HOLY SHIT! IT'S A FUCKING GOAT!!"
The very next thing I hear coming out of my cell phone is "Excuse me!!??"
My doctor's office has a rather unfriendly lady who answers their phones. Calling her to get any sort of information on my MRI was like pulling teeth. She is just very unpleasant and has an equally unpleasant voice as well. And somehow she picked up the phone before it ever rang and was startled, and clearly angered, when the first thing she heard upon placing the phone to her ear was "HOLY SHIT!! IT'S A FUCKING GOAT!!" I swear sometimes I lead Larry David's life.
Here's a transcript of the conversation:
Woman: (sternly)Excuse me!!??
Me: Oh.... Oh my God, did you hear me? Uh... I'm so sorry!
W: (sternly)What is the problem!?
M: No, no. I am sorry... How did you pick up the phone so fast?
W: (sternly) What can i help you with, sir?
M: Geez, I am really sorry about that. It as about something totally different. I didn't think you'd pick up so quickly.
W: (sternly) What can i help you with, sir?
M: Yes. Okay. Um. I'm really sorry about that. I am coming in the afternoon to have a cast put on my foot and I need to know if there is a co-pay involved with that so i can remember to bring a check along with me.
(pause)
W: (sternly) We only accept cash or checks.
M: Yes, well, um, that's right. I need to know if i need to bring a check with me today. I've never had a cast put on. Does a co-pay apply for that?
W: (sternly) What are you having done?
(pause)
M: (in a tone that suggests we've been over this information before) I'm having a cast put on my foot.
W: (exasperatedly stern) Let me put you on hold and get your doctor's secretary.
(on hold)
W: (sternly) She's at lunch. I don't know what to tell you. (click)
So to be safe, I'll be taking a check with me. And did I get the point across that this lady is kinda stern?
I left work to go home to meet my sister in law who is taking me to have this cast put on. My doctor's office is stuck in the stone ages and only accepts cash (which i never have on me) or checks (ha!). So I called the office to see if a co-pay would be due today with the installation of this cast so I would then remember to grab a check from home before I went to the doctor. Seemed like a simple enough task, right?
So I'm leaving work, which is very close to Carondalet Park in South St Louis, and to get to the highway, I have to actually drive through the park. I'm doing this and dialing the doctor's office at the same time. I get the number all entered in and press "talk", which would begin the dialing process. At the very moment I do this and raise the phone to my ear, I look off to my right and lying dead as a rock in the middle of the park is a goat! Not a raccoon or a possum (or opossum if you must) or a cat or a dog. A goat!! Like one of the little goats from Grant's Farm or the zoo! How did a dead goat get into Carondalet Park!!??
Now, I find that when I am driving around by myself, I talk to myself. Yeah, I know. It's silly, but I do it. And since my wife strongly prefers I keep my profanity spewing to a minimum when I am around my two and a half year old son, I often find myself cursing like a sailor when talking to myself.
So take that nugget of info, add my pure shock and horror of seeing a dead, stiff as a board with all four legs pointing to the sky goat in the middle of Carondalet Park, and out of my mouth shouts, "HOLY SHIT! IT'S A FUCKING GOAT!!"
The very next thing I hear coming out of my cell phone is "Excuse me!!??"
My doctor's office has a rather unfriendly lady who answers their phones. Calling her to get any sort of information on my MRI was like pulling teeth. She is just very unpleasant and has an equally unpleasant voice as well. And somehow she picked up the phone before it ever rang and was startled, and clearly angered, when the first thing she heard upon placing the phone to her ear was "HOLY SHIT!! IT'S A FUCKING GOAT!!" I swear sometimes I lead Larry David's life.
Here's a transcript of the conversation:
Woman: (sternly)Excuse me!!??
Me: Oh.... Oh my God, did you hear me? Uh... I'm so sorry!
W: (sternly)What is the problem!?
M: No, no. I am sorry... How did you pick up the phone so fast?
W: (sternly) What can i help you with, sir?
M: Geez, I am really sorry about that. It as about something totally different. I didn't think you'd pick up so quickly.
W: (sternly) What can i help you with, sir?
M: Yes. Okay. Um. I'm really sorry about that. I am coming in the afternoon to have a cast put on my foot and I need to know if there is a co-pay involved with that so i can remember to bring a check along with me.
(pause)
W: (sternly) We only accept cash or checks.
M: Yes, well, um, that's right. I need to know if i need to bring a check with me today. I've never had a cast put on. Does a co-pay apply for that?
W: (sternly) What are you having done?
(pause)
M: (in a tone that suggests we've been over this information before) I'm having a cast put on my foot.
W: (exasperatedly stern) Let me put you on hold and get your doctor's secretary.
(on hold)
W: (sternly) She's at lunch. I don't know what to tell you. (click)
So to be safe, I'll be taking a check with me. And did I get the point across that this lady is kinda stern?
Today is the big day!!
I hurt myself on a routine jog on New Year's Eve. Tried to rest it off. Finally saw a doctor last week and had an MRI. I got the news yesterday that not only had I sustained a stress fracture, but it was a fracture of the navicular bone, which I was informed is the worst bone in my foot to have a stress fracture of.
This is sort of fitting when I think of it because all throughout this training people have asked me "Rob, why are you running a full marathon when you have never run a marathon before? Why not start out with a half marathon?" Why you ask? Because I wasn't going to half ass this marathon!! (Not to throw mud in the face of anyone who has run, is training to run, or is considering running a half marathon.) It was all or nothing for me, sort of like Scientology. You're either in or your out! So it is only logical that when I ended up breaking my foot because of the intense training involved with preparing for a full 26.2 mile trek, it would be the bone that is the most difficult to heal. Why break some piss ant puny little metatarsal when you can go all out and crack the navicular, that's my motto!
So then the doctor's secretary says I needed to come in to have a hard cast put on my foot for six weeks. What!!?? How can this be!? Yes there is discomfort, but I am walking without a limp. No, I cannot run, but I've been working out on the exercise bike. Now I have to completely rearrange my life for six weeks over this? You gotta be kidding me. I was thinking I might get a prescription of six weeks of rest, or one of those giant ski-boot looking walking casts or something. Nope, six full weeks of hard cast and crutches. Great!
So now, this afternoon at 2:50pm, I will head to the doctor's office and have this cast installed. And through the beauty of the Internet, those of you who choose to do so, can read me whine about what the hell this cast will turn my life into. I'll whine about going to the bathroom with crutches. I'll whine about going to work with crutches. I'll whine about going to the Blues' game with crutches. I'll whine about flying with crutches, of which i am scheduled to do twice over the next six weeks. And because of the agitated state this situation will surely put me in, I'll also probably rant about non-broken foot related stuff just because I am pissed off.
Finally a disclaimer. I am fully aware that there are millions if not billions of people in the world who are suffering far worse than I am with this broken foot. This blog merely serves as a light hearted look at the next six weeks of my life with a cast on my foot, that is all. Please read this for what it is.
This is sort of fitting when I think of it because all throughout this training people have asked me "Rob, why are you running a full marathon when you have never run a marathon before? Why not start out with a half marathon?" Why you ask? Because I wasn't going to half ass this marathon!! (Not to throw mud in the face of anyone who has run, is training to run, or is considering running a half marathon.) It was all or nothing for me, sort of like Scientology. You're either in or your out! So it is only logical that when I ended up breaking my foot because of the intense training involved with preparing for a full 26.2 mile trek, it would be the bone that is the most difficult to heal. Why break some piss ant puny little metatarsal when you can go all out and crack the navicular, that's my motto!
So then the doctor's secretary says I needed to come in to have a hard cast put on my foot for six weeks. What!!?? How can this be!? Yes there is discomfort, but I am walking without a limp. No, I cannot run, but I've been working out on the exercise bike. Now I have to completely rearrange my life for six weeks over this? You gotta be kidding me. I was thinking I might get a prescription of six weeks of rest, or one of those giant ski-boot looking walking casts or something. Nope, six full weeks of hard cast and crutches. Great!
So now, this afternoon at 2:50pm, I will head to the doctor's office and have this cast installed. And through the beauty of the Internet, those of you who choose to do so, can read me whine about what the hell this cast will turn my life into. I'll whine about going to the bathroom with crutches. I'll whine about going to work with crutches. I'll whine about going to the Blues' game with crutches. I'll whine about flying with crutches, of which i am scheduled to do twice over the next six weeks. And because of the agitated state this situation will surely put me in, I'll also probably rant about non-broken foot related stuff just because I am pissed off.
Finally a disclaimer. I am fully aware that there are millions if not billions of people in the world who are suffering far worse than I am with this broken foot. This blog merely serves as a light hearted look at the next six weeks of my life with a cast on my foot, that is all. Please read this for what it is.
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