The Snake Diesel

The Christmas Tour First Stop

Wed, 26 Dec 2012 16:13:03 -0500

During my semester break from school, I decided to drive to visit my family throughout the midwest. Just a warning, if you have a weak stomach or are currently awaiting psychological analysis, please stop reading now.

As I made my way from Chapel Hill to Bowling Green, Kentucky, I couldn’t help but relive some memories I had lived from my last visit to the town. These memories include a decent amount of alcohol, a few ping pong throw down games, and a hilarious public urination scene. As I remembered all these glorious things, I began to get excited about what new memories will be made. It was then that I pulled my truck into my dad’s driveway and began unloading my bags.

The first couple days were pretty laid back, going through naps, going on a few runs, and grabbing some new clothes. But, then came Wednesday night. My dad’s roommate Corey, took me to a bar named Hilligan’s. It was here that shit started to come loose and another memory was obtained. After sitting at a corner table with Corey and his friend Lee, I began to get restless, which means I am about to create my own fun in the sparsely populated bar. I see an older guy attempting to do some karoake. Once the song finishes, I jump on stage, tell the DJ to “Spin that shit!” and begin challenging the guy that was on stage to a rap battle. After spitting a few words at the guy in an attempt to get him on stage, it was clear that he wanted no part of me. I then walked off stage and stumbled outside to talk to a group of guys smoking cigarettes. I am not a smoker, but have been known to keep company around a few smoke puffers. I came to find out that the smokers were a traveling band heading o Nashville in the morning. As we talked, a girl sat down across from me and began eyeing me. I made a comment about the sun and she offered to let me see her naked. I ignored the comment and continued dialogue with the band. She then percieves that I am not going to walk across the table to kiss her. So, she turns to the guy next to her and kisses him. This immediately ensures me that I made the right decision in avoiding her advances. Later on in the dialogue, this girl asks why no one buys a drink for this cute girl next to me. I tell her that I’m such a good guy that I don’t need to buy drinks to gain the interest of girls. She immediately gives me a dirty look because she realizes that I have ruined her chances of having any of the guys around her buy her a drink. She is then telling some story, yells “Boom!” just like Kenny Powers from the show East Bound and Down. I make a reference to the show and she then threatens to punch me in the face. I tell her that she won’t hear me say another word to her I then walk away lauging to myself. In the span of 30 minutes this girl went from wanting to sleep with me to trying to punch me.

The next night was pretty fun, my dad and I went to play tennis with a group of friends my dad plays tennis with a few nights a week. As we egin playing, I quickly exploit my youth by making athletic shots and sprinting side to side. Despite my best efforts, there were quite a few times that I was beaten by the “seasoned” players.

The next day, I paked up my stuff and loaded up for my next stop, Poplar Bluff, Mo. As I left Bowling Green, all I can say is… Well played Kentucky.

This is a prime example of the mindset it takes to be an...

Sat, 23 Jul 2011 09:57:00 -0400

This is a prime example of the mindset it takes to be an endurance athlete. There is a sense of triumph that comes from completing and competing in endurance events. Almost any endurance athlete feels as though they are a living metaphor for accomplishing hard things. Making that decision to keep going when everything and every one is telling you the smart thing to do is stop can mean the difference in your life. The difference between being an ordinary person or the person that has the kind of pride that can’t be bought, but can only be obtained from making the decision to keep going when shit hits the fan.

Rebuilding a City

Wed, 11 May 2011 22:40:33 -0400

Ever seen a city that has been immaculately constructed? A city with amazing organization. Gorgeous buildings with carefully selected architecture that gives you a sense of awe in the way everything fits in place. Each building perfectly manicured to fit with the scheme of surrounding buildings giving a sense that each building has a place and it fits perfectly in its position. The streets are well kept with glass smooth pavement and not a speck of trash anywhere.

The only thing better than this perfectly constructed building are the people that proudly call themselves citizens of the community. Each person seems to always be carrying a smile on their face and a “pep in their step”. Each citizen also has the warm glow of success, their expressions and body language showing pride that only comes from hard work and determination. The kind of pride that comes from the feeling of having their entire beings fully burning with the passion of chasing their dreams.

Now imagine this city being obliterated by an earth quake. The well kept buildings and streets are reduced to rubble, the people left in a depressive state of mind with nothing on their faces but the feeling of despair and great depression. This was my life a few years ago.

While I was at Mizzou, I was a city with amazing motivation, attitude, and was completely on fire with a passion for running that was unparralled by anything. In my classes, I was putting my best foot forward and recieving pretty good results. My lifetime goal of running a marathon was accomplished and surpassed beyond my wildest dreams. I had run 3 marathons, 11 half marathons, 2 duathlons, and 1 triathlon. To say that I was alive and on fire chasing my dreams of running was an understatement. I was filled with pride of knowing that I was successfully making my mark in the running world as a very accomplished athlete. Then came the earthquake.

After being told that I no longer could afford school, I headed back to my hometown, which is where every building I had built seemed to collapse and crumble to the ground. I had stopped running because I felt broken from not finishing school. I slipped into a state of deep depression and despair that left me feeling empty and worthless, which was a dark place that I’d never seen before. I was no longer excited to awake each day and take on all the challenges it might hold, instead I was only interested in doing as little as possible in order to get home and lay down. I began sleeping lots more in order to escape the depression and dream about being at Mizzou back on the track with my passionate flame burning brightly. I unfortunately awoke each morning feeling like a candle that had been blown out. I no longer cared about my life and was just trying to “get by”. Then, something happened, I came to a realization that if I didn’t do something soon, my life would be one meaningless struggle after another.

I saw 3 possible places I could move in an effort to change my life for the better by finding different opportunities. I decided I was going to move to San Diego, Colorado Springs, or Chapel Hill. After a lot of thought, prayers, and talks with my mom, I decided Chapel Hill was the best place for my move. So, I loaded up my clothes and drove from my hometown to Chapel Hill.

Since moving to North Carolina, I have been much happier and the buildings that were crumbled started to show signs of being rebuilt. I transferred to the University of North Carolina and began taking classes. Slowly, a small ember began to burn inside my passionate soul. The city was definately under construction again.

The one thing that was preventing me from running was a foot injury that had hindered my ability to walk. After getting injections last summer, I was able to start running on a regular schedule that consisted of about 8 runs a week. Then, a minor quake shook a few buildings.

My job as a counselor last summer was something that I took immense pride in and I held it sacred because I was a role model for a lot of children and I loved that they looked up to me. I began choosing to clean up my bar hopping because I was beaming with the pride of knowing I was behaving as a good model for the campers that looked up to me with admiration. One day at camp, I was frazzled and scrambling to get my camp group on the bus when I hurriedly told our kids to get in their seats. As soon as I got off the bus, I noticed one of the boys in my group was crying. I asked him what was wrong, my co-counselor told me I had scared him by telling him to quickly sit down. To my surprise, the camp director wanted to speak to me. In the meeting 20 minutes after the camper was found frightened, the director of camp dismissed me from the camp saying that he didn’t want to deal with the angry parent of the child.

I was pretty crushed, I could not believe that all the positive things I had done for 2 years were meaningless in the eyes of the director. After about a month of being upset from being fired from a job that I had done to the best of my ability, I slowly began to recover. I came away with pride knowing that I had done a job to the best of my ability and had mentored for hundreds of children in spite of being dismissed by a disgruntled boss. After this quake, that ember had been temporarily extinguished.

I then went back to the thing that brought me more joy than anything else. I began running and lifting weights with a fervor that resembled the athlete of Mizzou. My support group was amazing also, the athletes I trained alongside were a great aide in helping relight the embers in my fire. Then came another earthquake, but this time, the fire stayed lit.

My foot injury came back with avengence, but once my fire starts burning, it’s hard to take it out. I ran through the pain, to the point where I was hobbling at the end of my runs. I ran to the point where I could barely walk. Then I would allow my body to repair itself enough to allow for a limping stride. I started running again, but was again forced to stop with a foot injury. Then came a mason that offered help in rebuilding my city.

The trainer for UNC basketball offered to help by building an orthodic shoe insert to help support my foot. Now I am able to run almost pain free on a treadmill. With my new insole, I am finding the flames of passion growing again. All that’s left to do now is begin to rebuild the city.

Today was my first run back and it was an amazing feeling. This first run is putting a small sack of cement in a wheel barrel in the rebuilding of my city. My plan is to keep adding cement, mortar, bricks, and pavement to my community until I have rebuilt the city that is Greg Hansbrough. This time I’m going to be a stronger and a better city for coming through the earthquakes.

Urban Cowboys

Sat, 26 Feb 2011 16:59:13 -0500

This morning I woke up and did not feel like running. So I found myself going to breakfast with some friends visiting for the weekend, which means I was not going to run this morning. Once I got home, I made up my mind that I was going to run once my food had digested.

Once I felt comfortable, I threw my tights on and headed out the door ready for a 5 mi. run. But, once I got out there, I passed by the local bars and put my legs in cruise control. I reached the 5 mi. turnaround point and found myself with a decision staring right in my face.

That’s where my inner turmoil started to wage in my head. I remembered hearing about the runner that got mugged on the trail I was running and thought it would be a safe decision to turn around and finish an easy 5 mi. run. But then, something inside me suggested to take the trail further to the 10 mi. turnaround. I contemplated the pros and cons of both decisions until I looked back and I had passed the 5 mi. point and then the decision was easy, I was running the 10 mi. route.

Once I had made this decision, my body immediately responded by going into “Autopilot” and allowing my mind to wander about a bunch of different subjects. I remember thinking about the really cute girl I went to dinner with last week in Chapel Hill and I also thought about why I was in such a bad mood yesterday. My conclusion was because I hadn’t run and drove to the airport twice to pick up friends and my mom. Unfortunately I realized I took it out on my mom way more than I should have and am now going to try to keep myself in a good mood regardless of circumstances. After finishing this thought, I looked to my right and saw a sight I never thought I’d see in Indianapolis.

I rubbed my eyes to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating, sure enough there they were, 2 guys riding horses through the streets of the city. I went to cross a street about a quarter mile down the trail and saw the 2 “Urban Cowboys” riding towards the cross section with my trail. I stopped and waited for them to ride to me. After introducing myself and rubbing one of the horse’s mane, I said good bye to them and continued my run.

As I made my way down the trail I couldn’t help but think “That was bad ass” seeing those riders made my run, it was really fun to see horseback riders going through the streets. Then, a realization came to me… If I hadn’t made the decision to run 10 miles, I’d have never gotten to meet the “Urban Cowboys.”

Treadmilling it

Fri, 14 Jan 2011 17:43:42 -0500

I have been forced by the cold weather and pleas from my brother to stop running in the cold and try a treadmill. I am trying to get used to running on the thing, and I thought it would be miserable running. But, I am finding that running on a treadmill can definately have its benefits. There is a TV in front of me where I can watch ESPN during my run. It is a great place to do some inconspicuous people watching. It is also the same temperature and you don’t have to battle the elements.

The process of choosing my treadmill is a very strenous process. As soon as I walk into the gym, I spot the row of new Nike treadmills that sit behind a few rows of spinning bikes. The next step is the most important in the process, look for the cutest girl on the nearest machine. Once my tread bunny has been spotted, I non chalantly begin to run on my treadmill, which is usually right next to her. Yea, I’m that guy in the gym. Once I start running, I try to key in on what’s on the tv which is always on ESPN.

Watching Sportscenter while I am running is pretty cool because I get to keep up with the sports events I neglected the previous night by choosing to watch Jersey Shore or some other “educational” program. I watch the highlight dunks from the NBA and college games. But after a few minutes, my attention begins to wander, I begin my people watching escapade, by now my tread bunny has left her treadmill.

Watching other people workout is great entertainment to a guy like myself. I am convinced that every one at my gym has read a different magazine article on the correct way to exercise. And they are all completely serious about their newly researched workouts. Which make it all the more amusing to me. I love watching the pick up basketball games that periodically erupt during my run. There is always one guy that is a little better than the rest of the guys he is playing against. Watching the other players try to stop him consumes my attention until I notice the cute girl that was beside me is on the stair master. After a momentary glance, ok maybe I do gawk at her a little, I go back to the basketball games that usually end with the good player sinking a winning jumper to the dismay of the other players.

Once the basketball game is over, I take note that there have been a number of people that have jumped on the other tread mills in my row that have come and left. I now focus my attention on the runners as they jump on the treadmills next to me and begin cranking it up and running their hearts out, only to see them quit after about a mile of two.

By the time I have finished my run I have been entertained by over zealous gym athletes, basketball players, ESPN, cute girls, and intense mile runners. I guess you could say that I am taking my transition to treadmill running well.

South Bend Run

Wed, 05 Jan 2011 14:35:03 -0500

A couple weeks ago I went for a run one morning while I was visiting my brother in South Bend, Indiana. I was eager to try out some new running gear that I had gotten for Christmas during a cold run.

After rolling off the couch from a good night’s sleep, I put my new gear on and staggered out the door into a cold 15 degree morning. I decided to run down a trail alongside the river. I loved my new glove/mitten combo on my hands. My new mask is the warmest I’ve ever had and the wool pullover felt like a gift from above. As I settled into a rhythm, I began to look at the frozen river and admire its beauty. I got to see the change of surroundings as I moved from the town to city parks, admiring the flock of ducks resting in a parking lot and seeing the “civilians”scurry their cold asses into warm buildings as quickly as they could. I on the other hand was enjoying my run thoroughly and had set my body in cruise control. But, as always I found myself in a situation that only happens to me.

I ran past a guy that was wearing a white sweater that was walking down the trail that I was running. As I passed him, I noticed that he was a normal looking guy with a stout and heavy set body, his face was red with chill and he looked unhappy to be outside. I remember thinking to myself “Sucks to be that guy”. I continued running and enjoying the feeling of cruise control and was about 50 meters in front of this guy when he let loose a hurl of cuss words, he yelled “FUCK YOU!! BITCH!”. This isn’t something that you say to a guy like me and I thought “Alright, I get to fight this guy”. I stopped in my tracks and yelled “What!” the cold man looked a little bewildered and tried to play it off by saying he wasn’t talking to me and he held up his phone. I laughed it off and continued down the trail when I heard him yell ” you in the baclava, fuck off!”. I was wearing a bacclava and swung around on the guy, ready to roll. But that guy continued to keep his tail between his legs and said he was still on the phone. I then kept going, and heard him yell, “You fucker in running in the bacclava, fuck off!” I decided to laugh it off this time because this guy had shown to have “no balls” not once but twice and I figured it best to just continue enjoying my run.

As I made my way through to my turnaround point, I began to day dream about fighting the cold guy on the trail. But, unfortunately, he wasn’t on the trail when I passed his spot on my way back on the trail. But that didn’t stop me from day dreaming about it the rest of the route. I know, I am easily entertained, but so are you for the simple fact that you are reading this addition to my blog. haha

All in all, my run in South Bend was filled with everything I could have dreamed. I got to see the scenery change, an enraged guy, and entertaining day dreams. Next time I go for a run in that town, I will definately run that trail again.

Inspiration From a Fallen Friend

Tue, 09 Nov 2010 16:48:56 -0500

It’s funny the places we draw inspiration to help us through this life. I am lucky to have had very memorable people placed in my life that allow me to draw strength when I am feeling weak with the full weight of my mortality on my shoulders.

When I was a child, I was taken with my dad to the gym to watch him play “”pick up” basketball with a group of his friends every Sunday afternoon. My brothers and I would shoot baskets on the side goals together and occasionally play a few games of 1-on-1. I would also watch the games and quietly think to myself, “I can’t wait til I get to play with those guys.” This same group met every Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday mornings to play before they went to work. One thing I noticed about the games was that the guys were playing hard and fought hard for every basket, every rebound, and every loose ball. Then, one of my childhood dreams came true when I reached the age of 13.

I remember my dad told me I could go play ball in the morning and I could feel my heart doing flips in my chest. That next morning, I found out that it was a very physical game that they played, every rebound was met with a blow to some part of the body or head. It took me a long time to even score a basket playing out there, but eventually and gradually I got better and was one of the better players by the time I had become a sophmore in high school.

For some reason, I always felt at home with those guys playing pick up basketball and I believe it was because they all had a passion for the game. Kevin “Coop” Cooper was one such player. He had been playing there since I was a small boy and was consistantly one of the best players at the gym. Every game, you could see it in his eyes, he was playing a game he loved. Then my dad told me he tore both of his patellar tendons, the ligament connecting the knee to the shin, and had undergone surgery to fix them. A year later, I came home and went out there to play, there was Coop ready to go, no braces, I couldn’t tell he had missed a beat. And there was still that fire for the game in his eyes. These games were full of guys like that, guys that had a love of the game and would do anything to continue playing. As great as the story of Coop is, there was one player and friend I used to play with that made a huge impact on my life simply for his desire to play basketball.

I remember coming home from college and my dad telling me that our friend Roy Fields’ knees were the worst knees he had ever seen in his life. My dad, an orthopedic suegeon, said he had no idea how Roy was able to move up and down the floor with his bad knees. But, every Friday, there he was, the former CBA basketball player, in the gym ready to play. He was never a knimble player, but he would bump you really hard if you got near him on a rebound, I recall one time being thrown out of the lane and flat on my chest by him one morning while battling for a rebound. So, here is Roy, a man playing on two very bad knees and playing quite well, as he was always one of the best on the floor. Every game he played was a battle. I remember one morning I was being guarded by Roy and I went to post him up, he told me I don’t want to go down there with him. I thought to myself “I am a center on the high school basketball team, surely I can take Roy in the post.” I found out very quickly I wanted no part of Roy Fields in the low post, never in my life had I been bumped so hard, I caught the ball and tried to shoot, but instead found myself laying on my back with the ball in Roy’s hands.

When I came home from college one summer, I had been running a lot and decided to go to the gym one morning and watch the guys play a few games. As soon a I walked to the door, Kenny yelled for me to go get my dad, Roy had a heart attack. I jumped in my truck tracked my dad down on his road bike, and we flew to the hopital emergency room to find out that Roy had died on the basketball court. All the guys, including myself were in that emergency room with tearful sorrow over the passing of one of basketball’s greatest warriors. As we were there in the room with some of Roy’s family, we all agreed that that’s exactly how Roy would have wanted to leave this world, which is playing the game he loved.

Today I was on a run and was feeling pain in my ankle, my quads and hamstring were on the verge of cramps, and I was extremely thirsty. I then realized that I needed some sort of inspiration to help me through that last mile. Today I thought about Roy and how hard it must have been for him to play the game he loved so much with 2 bad knees. After this thought, I raised my chin and became inspired to run that last mile. A big reason I was able to finish my run today was because I am lucky enough to have known Roy Fields and see the passion emitted for his love of basketball.

This is what they brought the meat to you on, talk about heaven.

Tue, 12 Oct 2010 22:28:04 -0400

This is what they brought the meat to you on, talk about heaven.

Birthday Dinner

Tue, 12 Oct 2010 22:26:35 -0400

Went to a great place for dinner tonight to celebrate my 27th birthday, yea I know, I’m getting old. This place was like my dream world, all I had to do was flip my coaster to the green side and these waiters would bring meat to my plate. I couldn’t believe my eyes, they brought filet mignon, lamb, chicken legs, tenderloin, lamb chops, and a bunch of other meat and put it on my plate. I began to eat myself into a steady pace to avoid filling up too quickly and to ensure I ate up to my full potential. As I enjoyed all the amazing varieties of meat, I suddenly realized I needed to go to the bathroom. I thought in my head, “Gotta go make room for more meat.” So I went into the bathroom to see a scene unlike any of my previous restroom experiences (no homo).

I quickly darted for an open stall as soon as I entered. Halfway through my relief, I realized the guy in the next stall was on his cell phone telling his buddy jokes about eating too much and ending up in the bathroom, which I got a lot of entertainment from listening to his conversation. Once I had finished, I was about to walk out when a guy came bustling through the door, rushed into one of the stalls, then completely EXPLODED on the toilet, after his eruption, he exclaimed in a sigh of relief, “THANK YOU FOGO DE CHÃO (the name of the restaurant)! As I left the men’s room I couldn’t help but laugh pretty hard as I walked back to my seat to return to my meal.

I shared the story of the bathroom visit with my brother which immediately brought a steady stream of laughter and that laugh has continued to the house. Man, what a great way to have a birthday dinner. Not only was I served a steady supply of meat for 2 hours, but I also gained a hilarious restroom experience as well. All I have to say is THANK YOU FOGO DE CHÃO!

Cruise Control

Mon, 04 Oct 2010 16:08:31 -0400

I did a long run this morning and it was nice to let my legs get in “cruise”again. When I go on long runs, I don’t worry about my speed, I just get in a comfortable pace and let my legs cruise. Today was my first 12 mile run in a long time and I felt the old familiar cruise control of my legs begin as soon as I started running.

As I cruised down the popular running area of town known as the canal, I felt myself immediately day dream as though I were on a long car trip. It only got better the further I went, by the time I had made it to the turn around, I was day dreaming about playing professional basketball in New Zealand, looking back on it, I probably had this thought because while I was at the University of Missouri, I had a crush on a girl that was from New Zealand, so naturally in my day dream I ran into her in her home country.

On my run back, I couldn’t help but look at the scenery, which was surprisingly beautiful for being in the city. I took in the views of the open fields, the twists and turns of the White River, and the few trees that have already started to change their color to amber and orange. Then, it hit me, I needed a bathroom and couldn’t help but laugh because my brother told me I would have to go to the bathroom halfway into my run. I crossed a bridge and made my way to a building in search of a bathroom. Once I got back to my running route, I went right back into my familiar cruise control and followed the trail down to the canal and home.

Today had everything a long run should, a great day dream, a comical bathroom detour (During the Chicago Marathon I threw a guy out of a restaurant bathroom), and a good feeling of cruise control.

Indianapolis

Thu, 09 Sep 2010 21:38:23 -0400

Well, I did it, I moved to Indy with my brother just like I said I never would. But, it’s worth it to see how much he appreciates having me around. I must admit that with this move I am a little nervous and scared.

Never before have I lived in a city and I’m finding it a lot different than anywhere else I’ve lived in my life. Today I decided to walk around downtown to try to get a sense of the town and could not believe the looks I got for simply wearing gym shorts and an old basketball shirt. As I walked among the tall buildings, I couldn’t help but feel a little intimidated to be in such a large place. I am finding myself completely out of my element here because for the first time in my life I am in a place where I don’t know any one. But, I guess that’s the challenge of living in a new place.

Another challenge out here is the job market, I am in need of finding a job quick because my funds from last summer are running out, I have tuition to pay, and I really do not want to rely on Tyler for money any more than is absolutely necessary. I feel pretty bad that he is helping me out right now, but I want to get a job so that I can take care of things myself.

These are the two main challenges I have in front of me with my move to Indianapolis and I am excited to be able to introduce myself to this new and big city. Hopefully I will find my “inner city slicker” and be able to adapt to city life… Prepare yourself Indy, here I come!

Photo

Sat, 04 Sep 2010 10:48:21 -0400

Chess Challenge

Sat, 04 Sep 2010 10:47:32 -0400

Earlier this summer my little brother and I got a chess set and started playing multiple games per day. When my youngest brother Ben came to visit, he was immediately thrust into our never ending chess challenges. Tyler and I have gotten considerably better playing online and against each other, but I always wondered “How good were we really?” Little did I know I was about to discover my true level of chess skills.

Last Wednesday night, I was finishing up my spanish homework inside a coffee shop when I noticed a group of older men playing intense games of chess. I walked over to one of the tables and called next game. As I sat in the chair, I began to get excited to showcase the skills I had quietly been building at home through my hours of chess challenges with my brothers. After a series of moves, I felt confident that I needed to make some big moves to win the game. But, every time I started one of my moves, my opponent blocked them. After a mere ten minutes, I heard him say, “that’s it.” As I was put in check mate.

Guess I need to practice some more before I play another public game of chess.

On our beach cruiser bikes about to ride around the town of...

Sun, 22 Aug 2010 09:38:02 -0400

On our beach cruiser bikes about to ride around the town of Wrightsville Beach.

Brothers

Sun, 22 Aug 2010 09:36:37 -0400

My little brother Ben came to Chapel Hill to visit for a week and a half and it was the first time all three of us had been together in awhile (Tyler was here). It got off to a fast start as soon as I picked “Beno” up from the airport.

We got to the house around midnight and Ben decided we needed to go out and try to have fun on the town. We rounded up some friends and headed to a place called PT’s around 12:30. We hit this place hard, goofing off and telling crazy stories, even gained a guy we called “Ronnie” because he looked just like he belonged on the “Jersey Shore” tv show, he had a gelled “fo-hawk” and affliction shirt. We headed to a place nick named “The Cave”, which is actually a friend’s house, after PT’s closed for some food and after hours fun. It was here that Ronnie showed a side to himself that no one thought would be witnessed.

Once all the couches were filled and every one began settling down for the night, a noise was heard and upon further investigation, Ronnie was found walking through the house completely naked. But, I guess that’s what you have to expect from a guy that looks like he belongs on the Jersey Shore.

Two days after this we were going to the beach for a vacation. Of course, the next morning I went for a little run on the beach. As I ran along the shore, I saw a group of girls walking in front of me, as I passed them, I smiled and waved thinking ” Maybe I’d have a shot if I gave them a good wave”, to my delight they all smiled and waved back. Then, I got the great idea that I was going to impress them with my athleticism by jumping over a sand castle that was in front of me as I ran. My plan was going great because I cleared the castle and had mental images of the girls being impressed and talking amongst themselves about the athletic beast that had just cleared an entire sand castle, but that plan was completely crushed one I landed on the other side of the castle. During my landing, my left toe caught the sand and I hit the ground face first, and with that I knew for sure they were laughing at me so I jumped up and continued running down the beach covered in sand. The rest of the day was filled with relaxed talks and funny stories told by all of us. That night, Tyler got a friend of his to take us shark fishing on his boat. There we were a mile off shore about to start fishing when I got sea sick and my breakfast made a second appearance. They ended up taking me back to the dock before heading back to try to catch a shark, which they were successful by landing a 50 lbs. shark.

The next day we decided to ride beach cruiser bikes all around town. It was definately a throwback activity for us as we cruised the town on our bikes. While we were riding over a bridge near the sound, Ben spotted a shark swimming about 100 feet from a boat pulling a water skier. We then rode back to the beach house for some rest and relaxation. The next day, we headed back to Chapel Hill and were completely relaxed and in high spirits from out trip.

Once back home, we went back to our athletic lifestyles. Mornings were filled with lifting weights, running, and agility drills. One particular morning proved to be a tough one for me because I was pushed into an unexpected workout by a friend of mine (that also trains the UNC basketball team along with a number of NBA players).

I woke early on Wednesday morning so that I could get a 5 miles run in before I met my brother Tyler to lift weights. After my run, I was lifting weights when my friend asked if I wanted to do a conditioning workout with the NBA guys. I said I would because I wanted to push myself. We went to a field and ran 14 sprints followed by a few stretching drills. Needless to say, I was completely worn out the rest of the day.

The rest of the week went great, featuring some epic ping pong and chess games. All I can say is that Beno’s visit was a blast and I will always remember the great times we have had in North Carolina.

Drinking My Own Medicine

Tue, 03 Aug 2010 16:02:05 -0400

One thing I have always done is been able to try to keep my friends heads up as they recovered from injuries and then came back from those injuries to return to their sporting events. I remember them saying, “Man this sucks, I wish I could be out there.” I just tried to tell them, “This injury is letting you know you still love the sport. Every time, my friends would agree with that statement. Now, I am the one that is injured and I’m having a tough time swallowing my own advice.

Last Friday I set out for an easy 10 mi. run from the Dean Dome. I noticed my left calf was a little sore, but I kept on because I made my mind up to run 10 miles. Somewhere around mile 3-4, I felt it, the feeling of my legs rolling under my body in a relaxed and smooth motion. When I get in this mode the world is an incredible place, angry motorists become friendly fans and the burning sun suddenly lights up the day with beautiful sunshine. Then at the 5 miles marker, my calf had finally had enough of my running. WHAM! I felt this searing pain down the entire outside of my calf, I could barely walk, but I hobbled on, trying my best to push through the pain. Every uphill was now an incredibly difficult undertaking due to my painful calf. I grit my teeth and continued running through the towns and back to the Dean Smith Center.

Upon arriving back at the weight room in the “Dome”, I went through a stretching routine and after I had finished stretching on the floor, I realized the pain was so great I could barely walk. I limped out of the weight room and filled a bag of ice for my injured muscle. It was clear to me then that I had an injured calf muscle.

I rested all weekend suffering through my friends tell me about their runs and how much they wished I could have been with them. I think that hurt more than the physical pain in my lower leg, but I have to let my body repair itself.

I keep telling myself that this little injury is going to help remind me how much I love to run. I now understand the suffering my friends endured while they were injured and am trying to “Swallow my own medicine” by remembering my own words, “This lets you know you still love to run.”

Camp Clearwater has started this summer and I am a counselor for...

Sat, 19 Jun 2010 07:21:27 -0400

Camp Clearwater has started this summer and I am a counselor for the summer. It is a great job, but it’s also pretty tiring. We work outside all day, from 8:30 until 4:30. We design and play games with the kids, games like splashball, Safari Tag, story walk, and lots more, last year was my first year doing this camp though and experience is everything.

I started there last year having never been to any similiar camp before working here. I had to learn everything on the fly, it involved a lot of embarrassment on my behalf for not understanding the way camp ran. But this year, I know what I am doing, with the experience of last summer behind me, I am rocking this camp out.

Long Run Legs

Sun, 23 May 2010 08:55:00 -0400

I’ve began training foir another half marathon and am relearning the joy of feeling my long run legs once a week. Long run legs are different because long runs require a different type of running than other runs. Most of the time, I’ll head out for a run, not worry about my speed and just run at a decent and fun pace, getting a good rhythm and jumping creeks and rocks with powerful leaps and bounds… Then there’s my long run day. This day requires me to slow down and run at a pace that conserves energy because I have a long way to go. It also requires that you endure pain and discomfort for a longer period of time.

Last Friday I set out for an 11 mi. run through some of my favorite trails. I went at my long run pace, creeping over hills, sliding over rocks and logs gently in an effort to conserve energy. As I began to relax into my pace, I was really having fun making my way through the woods, but I made a trail mistake, I allowed myself to get too comfortable. BOOM! I hit a rock and fell on the ground, dropping my water bottle in the dirt. I got up and ws afraid I broke my water bottle, but it was ok. I continued on, creeping through the woods joyously sipping water. Then I began to notice a familiar discomfort, my thighs were beginning to chafe. I continued through the woods trying to conserve energy despite this new ailment.

One thing I’ve learned through my years of being an endurance athlete is this: when doing a long run, don’t panic, no matter how bad it is, never panic and never let it interfere with conserving energy because panicking uses energy that could be used on finishing the run.

As I made my way up hills and through creeks, I rolled my ankle on a rock, but after hobbling a few strides it was fine and I continued through the woods. With 2 miles left, it was pretty clear that my thighs were raw from the chafing, but I continued on mentally trying to block the pain of my sand paper thighs, sore ankle, and bruised knee because acknowledging these problems would waste valuable energy and could impede my ability to finish. When I hit the gravel road to run to my truck at the end of my run, I realized my water bottle was empty. I maintained my omposure and ran the last 1/2 mile to my truck.

Once I had finished my long run, I sat on a bench for a few minutes trying to allow my body to relax after a prolonged period of exercise. When I stood, my raw thighs screamed at me with stinging fire and my ankle was sore, but I had done it… I had conquered another long run and am a stronger man because of my struggle.

Of course, when I went to a cook out that night, every one wondered why I looked like I had been riding a horse. I just laughed and told them I had a long run that morning. My friends also noticed an expression of utter joy and fatigue on my face. I can’t stop smiling because I had conquered yet another long run and was very proud of myself. I was tired for the exact same reason.

I try to use my long runs as a metaphor for my life. Keep going, no matter what happens, don’t panic, just continue on your path regardless of the circumstances and then stand triumphantly at the finish with bruised legs, chafed thighs and a swollen ankle.

Photo

Sun, 23 May 2010 08:00:28 -0400

The Decision

Mon, 17 May 2010 20:29:47 -0400

Every athlete knows what it means to make “that decision.” It’s that point in a workout, run, game, or event when it gets tough and you can see it in their eyes, it’s time to “MAKE THAT DECISION.”

Every athlete knows the options in front of them, continue the activity causing pain and fatigue or quit and give in to the pain and quit. The consequences of giving in to the pain force a person to use self soothing sayings such as “don’t want to get hurt” or the infamous “time to be smart.” The self soothing ideas are simply cover-ups for the real thought in an athlete’s mind that gives into the pain. That thought is “I was not tough enough.” I had a moment that was like this last Saturday.

I set out last Saturday in 90 degree heat to run 8 mi. on a trail that would challenge myself as an athlete. I had invited my friend Nate to come with me so that I would have some company as I ran through the woods. The course consisted of two 4 mi. loops. Nate decided that after the first lap he was going to run back to the truck and wait for me to finish. I had the decision to make, finish the run with Nate and go to the pool after 4 miles or run the second lap and push through the pain risking severe dehydration. And just so you know, I probably would not be writing this story if I had run in with Nate. I chose to run the second lap alone struggling with dehydration.

That decision turned out to be a tough endeavor due to my increasingly drier throat that kept begging for a drink of water. But, I continued on in my thirsty excursion. I then became very thirsty, wishing I had anything to drink at all, I was feeling my throat turn to fire. Still, I continued through the trail, then I started thinking, “what if I passed out here, how would I get out, who would rescue me?” Then I came up another hill and saw a mountain biker coming down the same hill. I asked him for a drink. He gave me a whole bottle of water to take with me as I finished my run. That bottle helped me have the strength to finish strong. I am stronger today for MAKING THAT DECISION. last Saturday.

Last Saturday I am grateful that I made the decision to be an athlete and continue running when in pain.