Home

Advertisement

Customize
  Journal   Friends   Calendar   User Info   Memories
 

But everything looks perfect from far away...

8th October, 2009. 9:21 am. Fresh start

I'm alive.

I don't have much time to give a real, full update but I made it to Maryland. Moved in last weekend. Started my job yesterday and it is EXACTLY what I was anticipating it would be. In a word, awe-SOOOOME! We went on two hikes, saw some snakes, turtles, etc yesterday. We also took a tour of an old saw mill located in part of the park. I started running again this morning after a week and a half layoff, doing four easy miles around MY park. How cool is that? I LIVE IN A STATE PARK! It's completely perfect for me. Baltimore Marathon Relay is Saturday, my supervisor is actually running the 5k and she might let me do a work project related to trail running, more on that later.

In a word, life is GOOD GREAT. I am happy. And while I may be alone more often than not, I am far from lonely.

Mark, out.

(18 kinds of crazy craps | All kinds of crazy crap)

1st October, 2009. 2:36 am. But you can't look back on all the bridges you've burned

Sunday evening my phone decided, rather abruptly and without warning, to delete all of my text messages. All of them. For most people, this isn't that noteworthy. But my phone, despite being a piece of crap that doesn't even have a back (the battery is held in place with a piece of blue tape) has an ENORMOUS memory. So I haven't had to delete messages to make room for new ones. As a result, before the giant self-purge, I had something like 8,000 text messages in my inbox, dating back to Monday November 10th of last year. The first text message? Becca telling me she hoped the night would go better from that point onward (long story, involves Lauren leaving "because she felt scared" and driving to Wilmington to be a giant ho-bag).

I find it interesting that this happens now, of all the times when it could happen. Now, when I'm mere days away from uprooting myself, moving somewhere, and starting over, again. Clean slate in life. Maybe my phone is trying to tell me something.

This time is different than the last few times I've relocated and readjusted pretty much everything about my life. After college in 2007, I moved home. I did nothing all summer and not much more when fall came -- just subbing and delaying making a commitment to more permanent employment or schooling. Then I went back to Delaware, but even that wasn't me doing things on my own; I went down knowing in a few months Lauren would be following me. And sure enough there she was last June. It was an epic failure of catastrophic proportions yes, but it was not MY epic failure alone. A year later I was moving right back to Long Island, back to the stagnating comfort of Hunt Road and a family that I've clearly pushed to that absolute edge of love and compassion, mostly by doing even less this summer than the last time I was home and being much worse about it. The common thread for all of these is some sense of security. I never had to do it all on my own, never made decisions just for me.

But now, now, is a completely different sort of fresh start. I'm on my own. Wholly and completely. I'm moving to a place that is not familiar. I'm moving in with two complete strangers (who seem nice and normal though!). I'm responsible for me and only me. I have no relationship tethering me here or there or anywhere. None to cause me to feel the need to make the sort of sacrifices I've made over and over and over (and over) since tenth grade, all in the interest (and futile attempt) at not being left uncared about, unloved, alone. In fact, for the first time since high school, I made the decision to do this based SOLELY on what I wanted to do for myself, with my life for the next year. What would make ME happiest. And wouldn't you know, I've chosen to do something that will, for the majority of the time, leave me pretty damn alone. I'm living INSIDE a state park. After dusk every night, there won't be anyone but me and the roommates for miles and miles. I'm working in a different state park where my crew will be the only humans I see most days. I plan on spending many of my weekends running the hundreds of miles of park trails, alone. Me, who has written and worried so much about being alone, when given the option, actually chooses something that will leave me more alone than I've ever been in my entire life. And I am so fucking excited about it.

So I guess my phone felt in order to make this a truly fresh start, I needed a completely clean slate. Gone are 8,000 or so text messages. Gone are all the sexually suggestive messages from Serena. Gone are the many more messages from Serena that said something to the effect of I FUCKING HATE YOU or YOU ARE THE MOST WORTHLESS HUMAN BEING I'VE EVER KNOWN and the like. Gone are the ALL CAPS MESSAGES FROM DAD, mostly asking me where I am or why I'm ducking his calls (it's because I have nothing good to tell you Dad). Gone are the ones from Mom in complete sentences with perfect grammar asking the same thing (same answer Mom). Gone are the irrational messages from Lauren lying and giving me the runaround about when she was moving out and when she was giving me the money she owed me (answer: too fucking late and never, respectively). Gone are the even more irrational ones from Lauren telling me that me asking about my money was harassment and she was going to notify the police. Gone are the running-related ones from Jess talking about races and workouts and splits. Gone are the empty promises from Le. Gone are the sporadic, effervescent greetings from my cousin Andrea. Gone are all the happy birthdays and well wishes from dad's surgery. Gone are the few Twitter updates I saved, mostly for amusement. Gone, too, are the encouraging messages from the likes of Wilson, Becca, Erin, Julie, Genie, & Steph-o among others who kept my spirits from crashing any lower during that really hard period from November through December. Steph-o telling me to quit my whining and come to Rockville and go drinking with her (very glad I did). Becca telling me emphatically this will not break you (it didn't). Wilson randomly and frequently mentioning that she was thinking about me and sending some love from Texas. Essentially every single text message I've received from November through now, gone forever.

Why did I hold on to them this long? Why didn't I do this sooner, on my own? Why did I bother saving any of them in the first place, especially the nasty, awful ones? Because that's what I do. I hold on to pretty much every little piece of Mark history, more out of some deranged self-importance, than out of sentimentality. I've always had this need to record as much of my life as possible, to document it as proof of my existence, lest I ever need to remember what I did on Saturday August 5, 2000... the answer, of course, is that I went to play laser tag at Galaxy Lazer Tag with Danay, X, Keith, Loeven, Duffy, Evan, Kenny Pryor, Martorelli, Mayor, & Savin (apparently I DID have friends at some point!) and it was the best night of the summer to date. I also did 200 push ups that day. So says the page-a-day calendar page I still have (I also have the score print out from all 8 games of laser tag we played that evening; I was the top scorer in most of them). That's just a snippet. It's not that my life would be worse without it all, or that it would be so bad if I couldn't remember, but something keeps me doing it. What's a bit odd about all of it is that while I cling to every shred of anything that tells me what happened where and with who, I do almost nothing to hold onto the ACTUAL PEOPLE in those memories. For one reason or another (mostly something having to do with being unable or unwilling to deal with me) the majority of those in my snippets have been out of my life for a while. Likewise for a good number of text message senders. It's become the norm so much that instead of trying to avoid it, I accept it as formality -- the logical sequence of events for most of my relationships, platonic or romantic. It's an acceptance present, albeit it reluctantly, even at the start of almost all of them. But this is getting into something for another day. And the texts? Especially the awful ones? That's a bit of the same reason. That's a fair bit of self-loathing, too. Not a single mean, nasty, vile, hate-filled text said anything worse than something I've already reminded myself of thousands of times over. They were more like confirmations (and in another way, excuses to avoid any obviously futile attempt at self-improvement).

Now that both the encouraging words I used to get me through the tough times, the brutal barbs I used to justify prolonged the tough times, and everything in between are history, I've no choice but to start over. Or so I tell myself. I gave myself an honest chance here, with this move, this job. A chance to do something I truly enjoy, a chance to feel like I belong somewhere, a chance to get it right for a change. I guess I owe my phone a thank you for its assistance.

And for the record -- today I did 105 push ups, had a scrumptious dinner of bacon, eggs & french toast at The Country Kitchen, and CRUSHED Scott 30-0 in NCAA 2004 (I was Oregon, he was Hofstra)... but who's keeping track?

Mark, out.

Current mood: fresh.
Current music: "Frontier Pyschiatrist" by The Avalanches.

(15 kinds of crazy craps | All kinds of crazy crap)

16th September, 2009. 3:03 am. When I say, "let's keep in touch," I hope you know I really mean, "I wish that you'd grow up."

Wow, it's been a while since I updated this. Like actually updated this. With stuff about me. Not just dad (who by the way is continuing to recover. He just had a follow-up doctor's appointment today and was told that everything is going as well as can be expected. It's taking a while but he'll be back to 100% eventually. Thank you all so much, once again, for the good thoughts and kind words the past few weeks) but my life. So here goes...

On the "what the Hell am I doing with my life" front: I never heard back from Playworks (formerly Sports4Kids) in Boston. I took that to mean I didn't get the job. I DID hear back from the Maryland Conservation Corps. And I took that job. Starting October 7th, I will be a member of a five person crew at Gunpowder Falls State Park. It's about a half hour outside of Baltimore. In addition, I'll be living in a house with two other crew members in nearby North Point State Park. Basically I'm going to be a volunteer park ranger. ETA: Volunteer in the sense that, as an AmeriCorps member, I am officially a volunteer. However, they WILL be giving me a living stipend which will be enough to cover essentials (essentials for me being rent, food, gas, running stuff, and beer). In the next few weeks I'll learn much more about what I'll be doing specifically, but I do know it will involve chainsaw, forest fire fighting, and wilderness survival & first-aid training. Oh, and did I mention there are over 100 miles worth of trails in the area, including one that goes all the way into Pennsylvania? Yeah. Awe-SOME!

Speaking of running (well, I really wasn't, but I just figured most people would realize trails = wonderful running opportunities to me) -- running has been going SO WELL. Like, better than ever. I logged 300+ miles in August, making it my second best month ever. And now with September half over, I am on pace to make this my best month EVER. My fitness is quite probably better than it has ever been, and with some races coming up over the next few months, I'm really excited to see what I can do with a little speedwork. Oh right, races. Well I have the Baltimore Marathon relay coming up October 10th. I'm running it with [info]hbfs, [info]jakshadows, and [info]ny_yn. Then on November 1st, I will make my very first forray into ultrarunning. I'm all signed up to do the Potomac Heritage Trail 50k down in DC (and the surrounding VA/MD area). 50k is about 31.1 miles, or ~5 miles more than a marathon. I won't be racing racing this, more just to dip my toes in the ultramarathon community and see how I feel. I AM really frakkin' excited for it, don't get me wrong, but ultimately this will just be a long, hard training run. Training run for what, you might ask? The Garden City Turkey Trot. Yes, my "goal" race of the fall is a local Thanksgiving Day 5 miler. Doesn't seem like a very big race to someone who admittedly prefers the longer distances, I realize. But this race is a measuring stick of sorts. I've done it the past two years, the only race besides the AETNA Service For Others 5k in Newark that I can say that about. So I can compare my times and see what kind of improvement I've made year to year. And with the way my running has been going lately I expect to see some serious improvement! It will also help set my training and goal paces for the Boston Marathon next April, so there's that. But really, I just want to kick some serious ass at a smallish, local race. And odds are [info]hbfs will be around to watch, adding some motivation to the whole thing because I've seen her race a bunch but she's never actually seen me run fast. So yeah, all of my training and running, more running than I did when I was training for the National Mararthon, and MUCH more than I did when I was training for the Shamrock, is focused on propeling myself 26,400 feet faster than I have ever gone in my life. And the way some of my runs have gone the past few weeks, I'm cautiously optimistic I'll be successful in that endeavor. And then after Thanksgiving, it's back to another few months of crazy big miles before sharpening again for Boston. Rinse, repeat.

I've also developed some pretty outlandish fantasies, running-wise that is (get your minds out of the gutter, those fantasies are nothing new for me!). They involve running crazy long distances and are at least a few years away. But someday....

More -- Hopefully I start subbing next week. It will only be for two weeks, but hey, it's some cash in my pocket and I WOULD like a pair of Brooks T6 Racers and some trail flats from Inov-8. Also, money to buy food and gas when I get down to Maryland.

Oooh... this weekend I'm headed to Baaahston again. This time for pleasure, not for business. My awesome cousin Nicole is getting married on Saturday. When I went to Beantown in August for my interview, her and her fiance, Jeff, graciously let me stay at their place for the two days I was in town, treating me to dinner, ice cream. I thanked them by solving their Rubik's cube. They're awesome and I'm really excited about this. It's a swanky black tie affair (the reception is at the Boston Harbor Hotel) and today I got my tux (a classic number with cummerbund and all). As much as I'm looking forward to the wedding, I'm also looking forward to running up there! I'll probably get a few miles in Saturday morning, and then Sunday might get a long run in along the Charles (although I REALLY wanna put in some miles up on Bear Mountain in CT again!). Also, if any of you are IN the Boston area this weekend and wanna go for a run or otherwise hang out sometime that is not Saturday from like 3-10pm, let me know! Also also, [info]jaci822 is the most awesome person ever and I'm going to owe her a lot of margaritas or some such stuff.

What else? The season premiere of House is Monday, that's got me hella excited. And semi-related to that, I've taken a serious liking to 'Grounds For Divorce' by Elbow which can be heard on the promos for the season premiere. Other shows I'm excited about premiere soon too. Like TOMORROW! Yes The Office is back TOMORROW along with Joel McHale's new show, which I'll be checking out because he cracks me up.

There's probably definitely more, but it's 0300 and I've been drinking since 1900, and really I should go to sleep. So I'm gonna do that. I think this actually managed to touch on almost every single thing that has been my life the past few months. Sleeping some, easting a lot, running more than that, basically no social life to speak of, and some teevee. Yup, that's my thrilling life as of this moment. And I'm ok with that for now.

Mark, out.

Current mood: drunkish.
Current music: 'Mixtape' by Brand New.

(20 kinds of crazy craps | All kinds of crazy crap)

22nd August, 2009. 8:25 am. gigantic sigh of relief

Just a quick update on this entry -- dad's surgery went very well. The doctor wound up also checking to make sure there weren't any tumors or other things that could become problems and everything was fine. He spent most of the day in recovery before being transferred to ICU last night. He's looking and feeling as well as one could hope for after something like that. He was even giving mom shit last night which, to me, is one of the best indications that he's going to be fine. (Aside: It was pretty cool to me that I could read and understand everything displayed on his monitor, as well as most of the medical mumbo-jumbo the docs were saying.) Today he should be able to eat and drink something and they're going to get him up and walking around a bit. It's going to be a long and painful road to recovery but he seems to be up for the challenge and I will be there to help. And one positive thing that came of all of this -- he hasn't had a cigarette in two weeks now. By the time he's released it will be three weeks and I think he's actually serious about quitting this time. One of his doctors said the hospital has a support program they'd be happy to enroll him in when he's out. ::fingers crossed::

Mom and I got home from visiting around 11pm last night. After 38 hours of being awake I crashed and slept like a rock. I haven't been that mentally, emotionally, and physically exhausted in such a long time. I can't even begin to express my immense gratitude for all the kind words and thoughts so many of you sent our way yesterday. Coming home to see that after such an ordeal was completely overwhelming (in the best sort of way). I'm incredibly lucky to still have my dad and I'm incredibly lucky to know so many truly caring, amazing people. Thank you just doesn't seem to me to be enough but it'll have to suffice for now. Thank you all so very, very much!

Mark, out.

Current mood: relieved.
Current music: "How to Save a Life (acoustic)" by The Fray.

(14 kinds of crazy craps | All kinds of crazy crap)

21st August, 2009. 4:17 am. No peaceful sleep tonight

I've started writing this entry, in some incarnation, about a dozen times for a number of months now. Each time I would sit down and start typing and I just couldn't get the right words out in the right order. Eventually I would get so frustrated I'd give up and leave it. The problem is that there is no easy way, possibly no right way at all, to sum up everything I'm feeling on the matter. A matter that has had 24 years and 13 days to develop now. I'm absolutely positive I still won't be able to get it right now, but I'm out of time...

Dad has what is called an abdominal aortic aneurysm. He's had it since early this spring. Actually, probably longer but that's when we found out. When I found out, I remembered thinking about the first time I learned what an aneurysm was -- when David Cone had one that almost ended his career. He came back and pitched a perfect game for the Yankees afterwards. Dad is 64, has been a smoker for most of his life, & has high blood pressure; all factors that increase one's risk of getting one. Before I moved back home every time mom called me sounding serious or like something was wrong, my heart sunk into my stomach and I broke out in a nervous, cold sweat for fear that she'd tell me it ruptured. You see, the mortality rate after rupture is about 90% and most don't last long enough to make it to the operating table. Over the past few months it's grown to the point where surgery is the best option for dealing with it.

At 5 am this morning (so in a little less than 1 hour) he has to be at the hospital for it. Of course, any surgery carries with it some inherent risks and all that, but heart surgery even more so. This is intense shit. He DOES have an excellent, experienced doctor performing the surgery and he's getting top notch care, but still... he's having surgery. On his aorta. As I understand it, what's going to happen is they're going to open him up on his left side, dig through all the stuff that's in the way, clamp off the section of aorta affected, replace that section with a Dacron graft, and close him back up. He's going to be in the hospital for 7-10 days and the total recovery time is apparently a few months.

All of this is honestly too much for me to handle, for a number of reasons. I have been, for the most part, a pretty awful son for the better part of a year. I had an almost complete meltdown over the whole SWMNBN crap and it took me forever to recover to the point where I could function as a human being again. And by that time, I really fucked myself with everything else. Around the time I was realizing HOW MUCH I fucked myself, which was around the time that we found out about the aneurysm, dad also lost his job. So money has been tight to nonexistent to say the least. My parents are under enough stress as it is with all that, then I move home and basically just suck up more resources for the whole damn summer. This is not meant to be self-flagellating or anything, but I do feel pretty guilty about how much I have failed to be a contributing, functional member of this family, sorta like the last time I was home for any significant stretch of time (but that's not where I wanna go right now).

There is no way I'm going to be able, in the space of a few hours and with a few thousand words, to express everything that dad actually means to me. Mom and I have had a tumultuous relationship basically since I hit double digits in age. I love her, sure, but we have had some epic fights that most normal parent-offspring will never have, and, if they do, never recover from. Scott and I have had a fairly typical brother relationship. There have been some contentious time as is typically the norm for brothers I'd imagine. But dad and I have almost always gotten along splendidly. There were a few times when I was a total (typical) jackass-y smart-mouthed teenager where he should've beaten the crap outta me, and there is this recent crap wherein my (until recently) joblessness and general loafingness was making everyone in this house hate me a little more than usual. But outside of that, and for the majority of my life, Dad has always been the calm, level-headed one in the family. The one I feel most at ease around.

I've been remembering lately a bunch of the times we've spent together over the years, just him and I -- going to Italy in 2000 w/the youth group and how he put up with me and John Perella for two weeks without killing us, getting up early every morning when we were in Rome to go to mass at St. Peter's, just the two of us (and how that trip marked the beginning of his goatee); him teaching me to drive in the church parking lot; letting me drive up to Binghamton when I first started looking at colleges and him telling me to stop tapping on the gas; the countless times he's taken me to the driving range/golf course to hit some or play nine; his hilarious advice about tattoos (If you're man enough to get something tattooed on the tip of your dick, THEN you go get a tattoo); watching the PGA Championship opening rounds in the living room all day last week. He was my first soccer coach when I was like five years old (we were 'The Rounders'). He was my first basketball coach when I was in sixth grade (I still have and wear my maroon 'Hawks' t-shirt). I still remember driving back when I was in high school, Dad drove me, Chris, & Keith home from either mini-golf or the movies in Farmingdale and we were making some crude jokes and Dad just stopped and told us some hilarious/disgusting stories about his time in Vietnam. Yup, Dad was in the army and sent to Vietnam for a while before coming home and marrying my mother at... 24 years old. I remember the first time I saw Dad cry -- it was at my grandma's wake in 1995 and it was unbelievable to me at the time. Dad had/has seemed so much a strong, superhero of a man to me throughout my life. He still is. Even though it's pretty evident I'm much stronger at this point, at 64 he can still put a nail through a wooden board with a hammer like it was nothing. He taught me how to golf, how to play baseball, how to punch someone in the jaw, how to powerwash a deck, how to build a deck, how to change a bike tire, how to take care of a car, how to drink beer. In short, how to be a man.

There is so much more I could and want to say about Dad, but if I kept on, I'd miss the trip to the hospital. I'm a nervous wreck and, like I figured, I haven't even come close to sleeping tonight/this morning. And I probably won't for a while today.

I'm afraid of a few things in life: loneliness (a quagmire that has been dealt with numerous times here), spiders, airplane travel, my own inevitable demise. Add to that list 'losing my Dad'. Everyone knows that in life, eventually, you will probably have to deal with your parents dying. But no one is ever really ready for it when actually faced with it, or at least the potentiality. As unmarry-able as I know I am, part of me wants to clean up my, even if only temporarily, so Dad can see a grandkid. Oh right, my awesomeness with kids? Totally genetic. Dad is at his best around little ones. He has more godchildren than I can count. He will be the absolute best grandpa ever, I have no doubt.

So yeah, I dunno where or how to end this but I've got to regardless. I'm not writing this for sympathy. But if I keep it inside any longer I'll go insane today. So if you believe in some form of God, say a prayer for Dad today. And if not, then just send some good thoughts our way.

Mark, out.

Current mood: terrified.

(18 kinds of crazy craps | All kinds of crazy crap)

1st August, 2009. 2:34 am. The lighthouse beam has just run out, I'm cold as cold as cold can be...

Hello August! August has always been my absolute favorite month. This shouldn't really come as a surprise, considering my favorite DAY of the year is exactly one week from today. Of course, the problem is that when August ends, it feels like that's basically the end of summer too. And aside from just the general sadness of summer being over (even though autumn is my favorite season I still think I get sad about summer ending because for most of my life that meant the end of freedom and the return to school crap), I know already that when summer ends it will just mean yet another year that I didn't have that summer. And at some point I will accept the fact that I'm NEVER going to have the sort of summer I think about and pretend to feel when I listen to Stolen.

This summer in particular has been a total wash, though this is partly (mostly?) by design. I knew I was going to be living at home. I didn't have a job or school to occupy me. No job means no money so I knew I also wasn't going to be going out much and being social to begin with even if I felt so inclined. I don't have many, if any really, friends here anymore. The ones I DO have, at least the ones who don't HATE me, I've been pretty much unintentionally intentionally avoiding. Why? Haven't a goddamn clue honestly. My plan was to sleep, run, eat, and not much else. Well, June's plan got fucked by my achilles. July was significantly better. In fact, I pretty much stuck to the plan last month. With few great exceptions I just woke up, ate, worked around the house, sorta looked for jobs, ran, and went to bed. There was also the trip to Mt. Washington (which I DID write a detailed account of, I keep meaning to add the pictures and videos in so I can post it. It IS forthcoming I swear!) and the wonderfully impromptu trip to Boston to see Wilson (FINALLY!) but aside from that, nada.

I'm not complaining about it, considering it was essentially what I planned on anyway, but I still feel sort of empty about it all. I went back and read through previous years' early August posts and they all echo similar sentiments: not quite regret, something like longing, a wistful desire for something clearly unattainable and, even if that something were, doubt that I'd go and get it. Two years ago I was fresh out of college, stricken with mono, living at home, and constantly berated to find a job or find a grad school or something. One year ago I was hitting a low point on this very date -- Lauren was going to a soccer game with Mike and I ran 16 miles through White Clay to try to wear myself out so much I could get some sleep. Restlessness. Some sort of yearning. Never satisfied. Sometimes I think maybe I know how to, but then, again, I don't know if I'd let myself.

Today, technically, there will be a block party here. Mom & Dad are having some people over, mostly family. Scott will have Lisa and Pete and maybe a few other people. I'll get up in a couple hours, run 14 miles, come home, clean up the backyard and drink Sierra Nevada Pale Ale for the rest of the day. Starting August off in a pretty decent way, I suppose, by my standards. I'll most certainly go to bed the same way I'm about to now. The same way I have pretty much every night for who knows how long. Too long. I went out earlier and almost immediately wished I had opted to stay in. What is it about me that both craves human contact and then runs away from it (figuratively AND literally), almost at all costs, whenever presented with the possibility? Almost everyone I meet eventually decides it's not worth the effort. Everyone else can't all be wrong.

On that note, or some note at any rate, I finally heard from Sports4Kids in Baaahston. It's an organization that basically puts a coordinator in an elementary school and their job is to organize play activities during recess and after school. Basically you get paid to organize and play games with little kids. I don't think a job was created that I'm MORE qualified for than this. I have to drive up there for an interview on Wednesday at 2pm. It's a group interview wherein I will be running a 5 minute activity that is appropriate for 4th & 5th graders (with the other interviewees subbing in for the kiddies). This should be no problem for me. I should really talk to my cousin Nicole about my trip up though, hopefully I can see her while I'm up there. Also, it would be nice to potentially have a place to sleep that is not the backseat of my car. I'll definitely get a run in too... somewhere. I'm really hopeful about this. It's through Americorps but they pay about twice the stipend that I've seen for any other Americorps position, complete with the health coverage and student loan stipend bonuses too. I'd have to find a place to live. And I will be in the midst of Red Sux Nation. But I would be about 3 hours from the White Mountains, able to train on the Boston Marathon course, and, possibly most importantly, able to start fresh.

What I'm escaping I haven't a clue, but I can't live here (it's very possibly actually bad for the health of all concerned parties) and I can't live in Delaware and I don't know what else.

Mark, out.

Current mood: drained.
Current music: "Into The Ocean" by Blue October.

(12 kinds of crazy craps | All kinds of crazy crap)

10th July, 2009. 5:21 am. Kid in a candy store... again

I'm running a bit late, but it's not a big deal. I'm sitting here wolfing down some frosted mini-wheats and going through the checklist in my head to make sure I didn't forget anything. In a matter of minutes I will be on the road for Curt's house. About two hours after that, we'll be departing Hopewell Junction for Dolly Copp. At this time tomorrow, we'll be getting up and heading to Pinkham Notch to FINALLY tackle Huntington Ravine. The most recent weather forecast is as good as I could have hoped for. Hiking Huntington Ravine in anything but ideal conditions is dangerous to the point of suicidal (at least according to the page long warning at the start of the trail description in the White Mountains guidebook). I can still remember Craig Ferrantino, back when I was a high schooler, telling me how hard and dangerous the trail was, how he wasn't even sure I could handle it.

Last year was the tenth year in a row I'd hiked the mountain. It was supposed to be an awesome capper on a decade of Mt. Washington hikes. It fizzled disastrously. I DID do a trail I hadn't done before (Lion's Head). It was a good trail, not terribly challenging, the weather only (predictably) miserable for a little bit near the summit. But the company was horrible, and I didn't get to hike down for the first time since I was that young high schooler under the care of the St. Frances youth group.

THIS was the hike I should have done last year. Just two hikers who have the experience, strength, and lack some regard for personal safety tackling a trail that will challenge them. I've been waiting for this weekend for a few weeks now. But really, I've been waiting for over a decade. I could not be more excited.

Mark, out.

Current mood: excited.

(8 kinds of crazy craps | All kinds of crazy crap)

4th July, 2009. 12:55 am. Happy Birthday America

It's officially the Fourth of July. Today I had planned on walking with mom at 5am, crashing for a bit before going to the Malakin's BBQ, then biking to the beach where I'd do my run in heat gear on the boardwalk, take a dip in the ocean to cool off, and finally admire the off shore fireworks display from a spot on the sand before biking home.

Well, those plans are gone. Replaced with new, slightly more ludicrous, and significantly more me-like plans! I'm gonna nap for an hour or two. Around 3am I'm going to wake up, have a quick bite to eat, take a shower to wake me up, and depart my house by 4am. Where to? MASSACHUSETTS! Why? Because my bestest, most awesomest, favoritest friend, in the whole wide world, Wilson, is there and I have not seen in her in longer than either of us cares to think about. This prolonged separation is mostly my fault for being broke and not visiting in the various places she's resided over the past few years. Now this is no trek to Browntown or Notre Dame, but it's a decent distance and I am CAPS LOCK EXCITED!

No idea WHAT we'll be doing to celebrate the holiday but it doesn't really matter to me. Tomorrow night I will be... somewhere in Boston? I'll either crash at my cousin's apt or find a campsite nearby (have tent and sleeping bag, will travel) and then Sunday morning I'll be cheering on [info]insane_bassist at her 5k along the Charles River. Hopefully I can find somewhere to run tomorrow, and I'll probably do an easy run along the Charles Sunday morning.

Hooray spontaneous adventuring!

(11 kinds of crazy craps | All kinds of crazy crap)

1st July, 2009. 11:58 pm. It's gonna take a little time, while you're waiting like a factory line

Wow, I haven't posted an entry in this journal in for-EVER! I've been real active on el-jay, just mostly in [info]runners and this poor thing has been neglected. Not because I haven't WANTED to post. Oh no, I have about a dozen or so entries over the past almost two months in various stages of completion... up in my head. Alas, most will stay there, never to see the light of day. My problem has always been, when there's a long lay-off like this, I always find the task of a new entry is extra daunting because I feel it need to update my entire life since the last one. And that is almost always impossible to do with any degree of brevity. So I won't. A quick (who the Hell am I kidding?) recap of most of May and June:

- I was a fmoron and sliced my poor left pinky toe open on a large shard of glass sitting on the floor next to the futon. My immediate thought was, "Is this runnable?" The answer turned out to be a resounding NO as hours later it was still bleeding. A trip to Christiana Care confirmed this and I left hours later with five stitches and my first pair of crutches.
- The ensuing ten days were miserable. OH WOE IS ME! kind of misery. Lots of going back and forth between feeling sorry for myself and feeling incredibly annoyed with myself. I missed running. A lot. A LOT a lot. What made the ordeal even worse was that I was starting to really starting to ramp up the miles and I felt GREAT. Not ten hours before I had one of my best runs of the year (a 10 miler that went 39:46/36:01). I was coming off a 57+ mile week. I was on pace for 60-65. AND I was at 80 miles for the first 8 days of May (on pace to crush my monthly mileage PR and kick of a MONSTER summer) In the interim I coached my awesome track kids to an impressive showing at the regional meet and made a trip to DC.
- Tuesday May 20 the stitches came out and I celebrated by doing a nice 20+ mile bike ride. The following evening I hit the track and did a pedestrian 10k with only some aching, which I chalked up to not having run in a week and a half.
-By the weekend my left Achilles was NOT HAPPY WITH ME. That weekend I also coached at the Maryland HS State Track & Field Championships wherein multiple school records were broken. Mary, the girl I personally coached at shot put all season, set a PR by about half a foot! And I made a trip to DC.
- The last weekend of May was spent packing my entire apartment with my parents and moving out. My lease was up June 1 and I was forced to relocate back to Lawn Guy Land for the foreseeable future (no job, no money, etc will do that to ya). Highlights of that weekend include FINALLY GETTING RID OF THE GODDAMN ARMOIRE (no I'm not bitter, why do you ask?). A couple of guys in a pickup truck took it off my hands after John (my awesome landlord), Scott, & I brought it out of the front room, down the stairs, and out of the house in about 1/50th of the amount of time it took to get it up there. Lowlights include saying goodbye to the futon. I didn't care about getting rid of most of the crap in that apt, but that futon grew on me since I started sleeping on it in October. And I made a trip to DC.
- June went been pretty much exactly how living at home has always been. I like Lawn Guy Land, honest I do. I love Jones Beach and I have paid it many a visit since being home (more on that later). But there's not a whole lot here for me. And the fact that I couldn't run because of the stupid nagging Achilles pain made things very boring. I don't like LI bars because they're overpriced and crowded with the sorts of people I try my best to avoid. I don't have a lot of friends around here because lots people have moved elsewhere and I've burned the bridges with most of the ones still hanging around. Couple that with my worsening anti-socialness and I've spent 95% of my nights here doing nothing and then going to bed. This is NOT a complaint mind you. I've read, I've watched teevee, I've biked and done some ridiculous CrossFit WODs. If I could have run, everything would be relatively alright.
- Last weekend saw some highs and some low lows. First the good: Saturday we went to Gerg's birthday. It was just a small BBQ at the Loeven's house. Gerg's girlfriend (?), his aunt & uncle, and us. I tried a new Victory beer, the Old Horizontal Barleywine-style Ale. Very good, a bit higher of an ABV and not hidden as well as some comprable Dogfish Head varieties but one I will definitely check out again if given the opportunity. We also played some serious wiffle ball (sadly the young-uns were a bit too much for us and the game ended on account of darkness with us in arrears one-nil). Then there was Sunday...
- Last week my cousin Richie died. He really deserves more than a blurb here and I did write down some thoughts about it I might add later but for now I'll leave it thusly. He had lung cancer, diagnosed last year, he fought as best he could but there were many other complications. His death was not unexpected but it sucked nonetheless. So Sunday saw us picking up Grandpa and driving into Queens for the wake. It was an all-day affair and it was draining. Monday was the funeral, another trip to Queens, another full day of mentally, emotionally, and physically draining goings on. By the time I got home Monday night I was shot. So I did what came natural to me...
- Monday night I biked up to MacArthur around 8:30pm, wearing my running shoes. And then I ran. 4.1 miles. I did what we used to call "tours" back in HS track. Basically I ran the perimeter of the school grounds; most of it nice, soft grass. The only negative to the whole experience was the 50 or so kids clustered around the bleachers, drinking beer, being obnoxious, throwing shit at old women walking the track. Fortunately they left the crazy, bearded runner guy alone. I managed a decent pace (sub-9) for the run, with only minimal (and normal) aches. I slept really well.
- I felt so good that yesterday I ran again. The same exact course. The difference was that yesterday I did it at 3pm when it was about 70 and humid. And I was layered up -- UnderArmor tank, white t-shirt, two heavy, dark sweatshirts, heavy, dark sweatpants, and thick socks. I had been working in the backyard like that all day. I had spent 20 minutes sitting in my 110+ degree car like that. And then I ran. It hurt. A lot. Not my Achilles, that felt GREAT (I tried something different: 768 with factory insoles and a makeshift heel lift). But I was HOT! And struggling. And in serious discomfort. It was AWESOME! My pace didn't slow MUCH from Monday night either. The cold bath I took when I got home felt great too. As did the hot shower. I slept really well again.

NOW we're up-to-date! It's July (HOLY FRAK IT'S JULY!). Today saw more shoveling of gravel from the backyard (RIP pool 1995ish-2009) and then heading to a free BBQ at a materials supplier with dad. When I got home, my achilles (which has been some sore last night/this morning) was feeling great. I resisted the temptation to run for a third day in a row, opting for an easy bike ride to the beach and back.

Well, the bike ride turned out to be historic! I felt very strong and very comfortable right off the bat. I managed to get down to the bike path at Cedar Creek in under 18 minutes. I'm not sure what my all time house-to-beach record is but I'm pretty sure it's in the 34-35 min range. I realized I had a shot at it, and at the very least a big improvement over what I've been doing. As I got on the bike path, there was a guy on a legit road bike (note: I have been riding around town on a hand-me-town ten speed piece of junk, dad's ancient road bike still has a flat tire) going about my pace so I settled in some 10m behind him for about a mile. When I went through the first mile faster than I expected, I thought two things 1) I should really pick up the pace a bit, I feel GREAT and 2) There doesn't seem to be any wind, in either direction, this bodes very well for the return trip. I pushed the pace and wound up getting off the bike path (4.33 miles) in just over 14 minutes, and then got to my "official" end point (the far bike rack in front of the Jones Beach Tower. I was kinda tired, gave myself a few seconds recovery, turned the bike around, and headed back at a much more leisurely pace. It wasn't until the bike path that I realized how easy it all felt. I changed to a higher gear and kept my cadence up. After the first (of three) overpasses, some dude in full cycling gear (nice bike, team jersey, etc.) passed me I picked up the effort and managed to stay 50-75m behind him the rest of the way. I just got off the path in under-14 minutes, and kept cruising. I realized as I crossed Sunrise Highway that I had a legit shot at beating my to-the-beach time. And I did, by a full half minute. I am counting this as my unofficial record, 34:09. Overall, 1:09 on the bike, covering about 19 miles. And did I mention NO ACHILLES PAIN! Tomorrow will be more running, the same MacArthur tours, I might add a little bit but nothing too crazy. Odds are very good I will be layered up too.

There's more. But I need to go to bed. I told mom I'll go up to the track with her at 5:30... in the ay-em! She wants to get in shape f'realz and I told her I'll help. So I need sleep. Like an hour ago.

Mark, out.

Current mood: tired.
Current music: M79 by Vampire Weekend.

(9 kinds of crazy craps | All kinds of crazy crap)

28th April, 2009. 1:00 am.

The weather is officially on notice. This is its stern warning. I'd give it an accompanying look but we all know how utterly useless and non-threatening those are. 4 miles at 1pm today felt like I was running in a sauna. Tomorrow is supposed to be even worse...just in time for a track meet. At least it's home so I should get home by 6:30-7 (?)

Speaking of track- got chastised today for not being harder on my sprinters in practice. Apparently not wanting to run them into the ground and give them heat stroke considering we've been so used to miserable, cold, rainy weather and then all of a sudden we're practicing in 90 degree heat. I am by no means a baby when it comes to running and training in miserable conditions. But I'm also responsible for a number of kids who don't really know much better and I know what is counterproductive to improvement. It's the old school mentality I know, and I just have to deal with it and mitigate the damage.

I've fallen behind on all of the shows I care to watch- House, The Office, Breaking Bad, 30 Rock, Castle. I'm ok with it though, I guess I've been busy with doing actual things to have time to watch tv. This is a good thing. Sort of.

I should've been in bed about an hour ago. This is still gonna be a good change of pace for me. Baby steps, baby steps. Spare change adds up.

Mark, out

Current mood: meh.
Current music: Lakers-Jazz game 6.

(5 kinds of crazy craps | All kinds of crazy crap)

Back A Page