Fish or Cut Bait

iPAD Case by Portenzo

2011-12-30T09:38:00.002-05:00

I got an iPad2 for my birthday/Christmas present this year, and plan to use it for business (it's a GREAT tool for salespeople) as well as fun. Then I began the search for a case to wrap around it. I am, by nature, a person who researches things to find exactly what I want before I buy it. I read multiple online reviews of just about pretty much every case you could buy for the iPAD until I found the Portenzo, the reviews of which were very nearly unanimously positive.

So, I decided to investigate a little deeper. I had several questions so I contacted Darin, the guy who runs Portenzo. Yes, the owner of the company answers his own e-mail. His responses were quick and thorough, and I felt I could proceed with confidence. Let me tell you why I decided to buy from Darin.

In comparisons, the Portenzo was a little more expensive than the mass-produced Made in China models I saw everywhere, but not by much, honestly. The Portenzo case is hand made, to order, and you can choose the outside cover color and material as well as the inside colors and materials. It's also made in America. Seriously. When was the last time you were even ABLE to buy something handmade in America?

Second, there is something artistic about Portenzo cases. The case is made in the style of a Moleskine notebook (Dodo Cases are similar, but reviews were sketchy on how well they hold up), which I have always found to be classy and elegant, and also serves to disguise the computer to help prevent theft. Quite simply, it is beautiful. The leather is luxurious, the inside fabric is vibrant (I ordered the blue) and it is unique in its iPad presentation.

Last, the details are just a little more thought out (a stylus holder) and the attention to detail is almost perfect. The strap on my case covers the camera on the back, providing one more level of protection). The only quibble I have, and it's a small one, is that the volume controls are hard to adjust.

Like I said, you may pay a little more for a Portenzo case. But what you will receive is a well designed, well thought out, well constructed, Made in America work of beauty. Check it at www.portenzo.com

Feeding the Homeless - Not What I Expected

2011-12-15T22:12:00.000-05:00

Mrs. Fish and I went out on Friday night last week to feed the homeless. There is a local Mission in Harrisburg, where young men and women can stay to get back on their feet. They have a van to reach those people who don't want to stay at the Mission and it carries hot food out to the homeless throughout the city. They need volunteers to help man the van so we signed up with another woman from our church.

I honestly didn't know what to expect. The van leaves at about 8pm drives to places where the homeless congregate, with about 10 stops throughout the night, across the city. At each stop, Mrs. Fish and another volunteer passed out blankets and clothes, including gloves, socks, underwear and sweaters. There was sometimes a rush, and sometimes scuffling, but they did well to keep things going smoothly. It was cold out, but not frigid/freezing, but that weather is surely coming and the warm supplies will be more and more important.

When we stopped, I jumped in the back of the van and grabbed the soup crates and set up a mini mobile serving area. I then started passing out toiletries including razors, shaving cream, soap, wash cloths. Then, I got on the soup ladle to pass out hot soup and pour hot coffee. On a night like that, it was very much appreciated. All of this set up and activity also gave me a chance to talk to the people as they came up, to hear their stories. It was humbling.

Carl, the Mobile Mission leader, has a rapport with the people of the city and a knowledge of where they are. It's weird, I have worked in the city for 15 years and never really saw the places he took us to. I mean, I had been past them, but I didn't see them as places where people lived, as homeless communities. I've never been one to turn away from the homeless, but I know I never sought them out, either.

I thought this trip would be depressing, but it wasn't so. I talked with the men and women and heard their stories. There is a camaraderie and community among the people, a sense of looking out for their common welfare. I'm not saying it was easy, just that it wasn't sad, like I think I was expecting it to be. In the end, I came to recognize a quiet, simple dignity that I wasn't expecting, and their kindness and generosity to me and to one another was uplifting.

We got home to our warm house about 1am and I was so grateful for what I have - family,, friends, clothing, a warm house. I definitely think I will do this trip more often.

Happy Anniversary - 18 Years

2011-12-11T09:41:00.000-05:00

Today Mrs. Fish and I celebrate 18 years. I honestly couldn't imagine doing this crazy trip with anyone else. We are raising an amazing daughter, continuing to grow and learn together, and we are still friends after all these years. I am a blessed man, to be certain.

What I've learned:
1) Be friends - We've had ups and they're AWESOME. When things get tough, we needed something to fall back on. I fall back on the fact that we were friends first, and that friendship was based on mutual respect.

2) Be lovers - Kids, jobs, family, bills, all have a way of draining the love from a marriage. If we don't fill that bucket, things go south. It doesn't have to be big extravagant over-the-top declarations or acts of love, but if we don't set aside that time, look out. And, when we do, even when we think we're too tired, too distracted, too ___________, our marriage gets better.

3) Talk about money - even when we didn't have any, we still talked about it. I think there is very little that will rip a marriage apart as quickly as being on different pages about money. I'm still learning how to do it, but some of the best conversations and best moments of closeness I have had with Mrs. Fish have been over conversations around money.

4) Grow. I have grown with my wife and without her. I want to keep on learning new things, and I think that has made me a better husband. I am learning about my health, writing and art. She learns about music (something I know hopelessly little about), books (she reads a TON of books), and fashion.

5) Know your purpose. I have a strong faith and it's been deepened over the years. It hasn't always been easy, and God has called me to some challenging places. Mrs. Fish wasn't always as faith-focused as I, but she has supported me through that walk, even when she didn't understand or necessarily agree with it. God continues to work on us, and also through us, because I have trusted that He has a purpose for me. Mrs. Fish's faith has deepened and expanded because I have stayed true to that focus over the years, and God is rewarding it with new challenges and opportunities. That grounding, that sense of purpose, has been my rudder through marriage, raising a now 13 year-old daughter in today's society, cancer, conflict, friendships and the challenges we have faced together.

I'm not saying we have it figured out, just my observations of what has worked for us over the past 18 years.

Stuttering

2011-10-10T16:59:00.001-04:00

Many of you know that Li'l Fish, my 13 year-old daughter stutters and has done so since shortly after she began speaking. It has rarely slowed her down, to the point where she is now actively participating in the National Stuttering Association (NSA) and even gave a Keynote speech to nearly 600 people at their annual conference two years ago.

Through the course of all of this, we have met some AMAZING people who stutter. One of them is Philip, a remarkable young man who has a lot to say. He's in a college class where the teacher would prefer he didn't. His story just made the New York Times. You can read the story by CLICKING HERE.

The central message of the NSA is this: If you stutter, you are not alone. I just wanted to pass this along, because so often people who stutter suffer in silence and never find their voices. My daughter, and Philip, have been empowered to find their voices, and to USE them, through the NSA. You can find out more about the NSA at www.WeStutter.org

Mr. Fix-it

2011-09-04T07:43:00.002-04:00

I had my article posted in Family Voices, the official magazine of the National Stuttering Association! Very cool!

We're dads. We're programmed to fix things. It's irrevocably built into our DNA, more than our love or hatred of the designated hitter, our desire for an engine with more horsepower, our need to get rid of ALL of the crabgrass our lawns, or even the quest for the perfect barbeque technique (HINT: it's timing - don't turn things more than once). So what does a dad do when presented with a kid who is "broken"? These tiny little beings don't come with an instruction manual, and not having a manual is so much worse than those multi-lingual, poorly drawn pamphlets that inevitably come with our Summer weekend do-it-yourself projects. At least with those instructions, some of the Swedish words bear a faint resemblance to English and you can almost, if you squint, make out where the thingamajig screws into the whatsit.

So you can imagine my confusion when my daughter, Katie, began stuttering around age 3. Surely there must be a manual for this. There has to be a way to fix it, right? My wife, Joan, and I jumped on the Internet and began looking around. Fortunately, we quickly found the source of the problem. Unfortunately, according to the all-knowing 21st Century oracle, the problem was us. We talked too fast. and we talked over each other. And we talked a lot. If we just slowed down, listened, had long pauses where Katie could interject, her stuttering would go away. "Well, that was easy" I said to Joan. Surely this Jersey-born guy and his Philadelphia-born wife could speak slowly. Even if we were both raised in gift-of-the-gab Irish families. You know, the type of family where conversation was equal parts Formula I racing, fencing match and blood sport. We can so do this, I thought. So Joan and I slooooowed down (This took more than one try. A lot more than one try). Only, Katie kept right on bumping away.

Well, there was still no manual available, so we took the next logical step. We went to an expert, in this case our doctor. Surely, the doctor would be able to tell us what was wrong and then we could set about the task of fixing it. Once again, we found the source of the problem, and we were told that it was...us. We were putting too much pressure on Katie. We were too demanding. If we could just relax about EVERYTHING, Katie would be just fine. This was nothing to worry about and it would just fade away if we could just relax. Have you ever tried to relax, knowing that something depended on your relaxing? That one did not come easily to any of us, but we managed to be MORE relaxed and that was going to have to be enough. But still, Katie stuttered.

So surely, I thought, there must be some sort of expert who specializes in this sort of thing. It was then we found the National Stuttering Association and I felt like Galahad finding the Grail. Surely these knowledgeable professionals with their years of training and experience would be able to cure my daughter. So we packed the family up and headed out to the NSA's annual conference in Atlanta. I was wondering, on the ride down there, just how long it would take to fix Katie, to cure her of this malady.

That was more than five years ago, and Katie still stutters. What I learned in that first Conference, and what I am reminded of each year I go, was that she didn't need to be fixed because she wasn't broken. Like the kids, teens and adults I met at the conference, Katie is smart, funny, beautiful and talented. What is broken, what needs to be fixed, I am learning, is a society that treats people who stutter as less than what they are. And so, I am going to acknowledge the nature of my DNA, that the need to fix things is an integral part of that, and I am going to set about changing this society to a place where my daughter's voice can be heard, because she has a lot to say.

LiveSTRONG Ride for Five: Part III

2011-08-26T20:44:00.009-04:00

You are riding hard now, trying to make the cutoff. You can feel the lactic acid building up in your legs, particularly on the hills. You remember your friend Kurt saying the world is flat when you're in a car. Not so much when you're on a bike. You're breathing a little heavier now, too, but you still labor onward, and also upward. You're in some bigger hills now, and trying to remember where the cutoff is, how far you still have to go, and you're trying to do the math in your head. Your head which has begun to ache. Badly.

You felt it coming on at the last rest stop and asked at the first aid station if they had Tylenol or ibuprofen. All they had was aspirin, and you're pretty sure it's just in case someone has a heart attack. You are not going to have a heart attack. But you're starting to feel like this headache could kill you. How does one run an event like LiveSTRONG and not have ibuprofen or Tylenol? You remember from previous years there is a rest area just past the cutoff area, and if you make it, you might be able to find some relief. You pedal harder.

You find yourself looking at the clock. It is past 10.00 now. If they've moved the cutoff up, you won't be able to ride the 100 mile course for the second year in a row. You look at the sky and while there are clouds in the sky, there is certainly no sign of threatening weather. You take some solace in this fact and get out of the saddle for a bit to change your position on the saddle. It feels good to pedal from a standing position for a while. Then you see the cutoff area. You pedal up, hopeful.

You see hordes of riders being directed to the left. The 70 mile course. It occurs to you exactly what has happened. They have closed the 100 mile course. Again. It is 10.13. You're somewhat perplexed because the skies look fine. There have been some light sprinkles, but nothing worthy of rerouting. You are disappointed. Many of the people surrounding you are bitter. And angry. And vocal. A couple of riders go through the rerout, with the understanding they will be alone, unsupported, on the course. You think about it for ten seconds and then think better of it. You turn to the 70 mile course and pedal away from the complaining. Your head is still pounding.

A guy pedals up next to you and strikes up a conversation. He starts complaining about the 100 mile course being closed and you bite down on your tongue until you taste blood. After a couple minutes of this, the man reads your silence, then says cheerfully, "But it's not really why we're out here today, is it?" A glimmer of hope lights on your ride and you start to talk easily with this guy, whose name is Vinnie, from New Jersey. Two years ago, he had a rash and it was really bugging him and his girlfriend was nagging him and nagging him to go see a dermatologist. Finally, he relented, to get her to stop whining (the irony was not lost on me at this point) and he went to the doctor. The doctor took one look at the rash and said, "That doesn't concern me, but this mole, this mole, and that mole do. We're going to cut them out, today." So they cut out his moles and they tested positive for melanoma. A silly rash and his girlfriend's badgering had saved his life. Now he tells people that if things don't seem right, they should go see a doctor. It's the same thing that saved your life five years ago. It's the same you've been preaching ever since.

You pull into a rest area and say goodbye to Vinnie from New Jersey and you're glad you were able to share stories. Now, you need Tylenol. You locate the first aid station and mercifully they have some. The guy asks if you want three or four. Two will be loads, you assure him. He is surprised. You are surprised that people would take more than 2. You toss them in your mouth and knock them back dry. Relief is on its way.

Sean and Jennifer pull in and now the remaining Team Fish riders are all together. You leave together and talk lightly, focusing on the riding. Sean decides to stop and take pictures, so you and Jennifer ride on. Jennifer is a strong rider and your pace matches each other well. The miles flow beneath you as you talk of her three children, how different they are, how precious they are to her. You think about your own Li'l Fish and how much you love her, how the fight you had five years ago almost took so much from you. You realize again she won't be at the finish line for the first time this year, that she and Mrs. Fish are home getting ready for school and a Selena Gomez concert. You miss them immensely, but you know the love you have for them will bridge the miles.

Overall, you are feeling solid, and your headache is gone. Your commitment to eat when you can, even if you have to force it a bit, has served you well. The switch from Gatorade to a more complete drink, Heed, this year has kept the cramps at bay and you feel energetic. You are in good shape. You enter the last miles and the rolling hills. You realize you are almost finished, and as with last year, you are surprised at how quickly this has happened with the 30 fewer miles. You pull over to TXT Mrs. Fish and Li'l Fish, then head for the finish line, tell them how much you love them.

The finish line is divided to the left for riders and to the right for survivors. When you finish down the chute, people are going nuts and screaming for you when they realize you are a survivor. It's all a little much and you feel the tears come again, for the five more years you have had to fight this awful disease. For the five more years you have had to live your life. For the five more years you had had to spend with your friends, and to see your brother become a father. And most of all for the five more years you have had to love your wife and hold your daughter. The Ride for FIVE is over, and you look to the skies and thank your God for FIVE more years.

LiveSTRONG: Ride for FIVE Part II

2011-08-24T21:35:00.002-04:00

You ride easily over the starting area. The first ten miles are lightly rolling hills, and you can feel your legs, the power in them that you've built over this season's training. You trained hard this year, and it is paying off already. You realize you've forgotten only one thing, but it could be major. You're a redhead and you've forgotten sunscreen. It's still early, so the sun is barely up, and you're relatively sure they'll have sunscreen at the first rest stop. You choose not to worry about it just yet. One of the things you have learned is that the people who do well in this event are adaptable and tend not to panic. Check and check.

At the first rest stop, you drop off to get sunscreen and they do indeed have some. And, of course, the booth is manned by a redhead, who immediately sets about scolding me for not having any on. "Don't forget you're ears," she says to you. She realizes your mother is not hear to make sure you get them. On the whole, Lance's sunscreen is awful. It never, ever soaks into the skin. It just lays on your arms, legs and face with a pale white covering. You quip to the volunteer that it's a good thing this is not a beauty contest. On the plus side, for the remainder of the day, you will not need to reapply a single time. It is both wonderful and terrible.

The first stop is also an opportunity to regroup. Your friend George is hurting, can't get the legs under him for the ride. He can't figure out what it is, and you're equally confounded, as you know he has done some decent riding in preparation for this event. He is hurting to the point where he decides to cutoff at 20 miles, the legs simply unable to do what his mind and spirit are trying to will them to do. You remain puzzled for the rest of the day about exactly what just happened.

You catch up to your brother, Pat, and ride with him for a while, talking about his one-year-old twins and the joys and terrors and general sleeplessness of parenthood at that age. It's a juggling act, and you remember back to when your own daughter was that age. It was so long ago, before cancer, actually,. Sometimes you divide your life into pieces like this, before and after cancer. Most of the time, though, you're just grateful there is an after cancer, so you can ride with your brother and talk about his kids.

At the 45 mile cutoff, your takes a left and heads for home, for his children, while you stand up and rise to the next hill. Jennifer and Sean are up ahead somewhere, and you're confident you'll see them soon. You pedal a bit harder now, the 10.00 cutoff looming in your head. You still find time to toss BUTNZ! to the people who have come out to support the ride, especially the kids, waving like maniacs and cheering us all on. And, the cowbell people, who support you every year with their encouragement.

You speak with survivors who are riding with you. Like Tracy, the four year survivor of Ewings Sarcoma, a cancer that attacks the tissue and bone of your body. You speak with Ron who tells you he is a testicular cancer survivor. You ask him, "Did you lose Lefty or Righty?" He is taken aback until you explain you lost Lefty and he says, "I lost Righty, so I guess between us we make a whole man." You say simply, "I suspect together we make a great deal more than that" and he nods in tacit agreement. There is Carl, a runner who got the biking bug and now rides in events like this because he is in love with cycling. He wears the Navy jersey in support of his brother, who is in San Diego on active duty, and he talks about how much he misses him because they were always so close.

You also see people you know from previous rides. Jon's Crew rides in memory of Jonathan a young man who passed away. You see Jim, who fought with you through the last stages of last year's ride, over the last hills through driving rain, each of you encouraging the other. He has added another year under his brain cancer survivorship belt.

On and on it goes, thousands of people on a single road, pedalling to fight cancer because of these stories. Eventually, you catch up with Sean and Jenny, and you start focusing on making the cutoff. It's going to be close. Sean pulls for you for a bit, then tells you just to GO FISH GO! You race ahead to try to make the cutoff so they will let you ride the 100 mile course.

LiveSTRONG: Ride for FIVE Part I

2011-08-24T20:30:00.007-04:00

Your alarm goes off at 5:15 am. Every year you think you're prepared for just how early this is, but you never are. In situations like this, you have two go-to songs: the Triathlon Song...

...or the one by Mark Knopfler for which you can never find a video. You choose Knopfler. Your body has some creaks that you're certain weren't there last year, perhaps weren't even there yesterday, but still you rise. Quickly, you don the gear you have laid out the night before, everything designed to streamline the process and get you out the door more quickly. You have a mission, and you cannot be late. This is your focus, now.

Your jersey is the seafoam aqua of The Lounge, an inside joke for many of the cyclists you know, emblazoned with the code that is both an impetus for humor and an odd badge of welcoming. You double check your shoes and your helmet, because you realize without these, you won't be allowed to ride. Quickly, you pack up the sleeping bag, the air mattress, your belongings are tossed in a knapsack with the LiveSTRONG logo. It's a gift awarded for the fundraising you did last year, for the efforts of your friends and family and a host of people who care about you and hate cancer. Many of them you have never met, but you will spend all day thinking about them. But not now. You are packed up and ready to go. It is 5:30.

You walk out to your car, make sure your bicycle is secured on the back of the car and drive out of the garage, probably for the last time. You think of your mother-in-law and the kindness she has shown you in allowing you to crash at her place for the past 5 years. You say a prayer for her that God watches over her.

You stop at the Dunkin' Donuts on the way out, another tradition for the past five years. The coffee cannot come soon enough, and you also order a bagel with ham and egg. You know it's going to taste awful, but you also need the calories. The coffee is the first sign of hope you have had today, black and perfect. There is hardly any traffic at all and you get to the event venue ahead of schedule. Your friend George is already there and you get texts from the rest of the team they will be there quickly.
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You speak easily with George, you've known him for almost ten years now. He's a good man, and a good father, and always trying to be better at both, so you recognize in him a kindred spirit, as you also did when you first met him. Your friend Jenny shows up, and it's good to see her again. You have seen her for nearly two years, you guess, when you ran in a race to celebrate her brother, Tony, who died of colon cancer. Your sure she's thinking of him now, and you say a silent prayer for her as well. Your brother Pat joins the Team Fish group, the illustrious Patfish Hunter who has ridden every LiveSTRONG with you. You're glad the tradition continues, and you're glad his coworker Sean has joined you yet again. Team Fish is now together and assembled.

You pedal down to the start line and you think about the Team Fish people who are not there this year. Family commitments have kept Kurt and Randy out this year, as well as a host of others who had "maybe" circled for this date. You're hoping they'll be with you again next year, then you turn to face the sea of bicycles and the task before you.

You secretly curse the idiots who set up the announcing booth, with all of the speakers facing away from the cyclists. You're sure it makes sense to someone, but to you it sounds like that etacher in the Charlie Brown series who just goes on in a monotone, "WAH WAH WAH WAH WAHHHHHHHHHN..." It might be amusing in the Sunday comics, less so for an event like this. You can't hear a thing until music begins to play and thousands of bikers go silent. last year they had a jazz singer and this year an opera singer. Both times you were moved nearly to tears. You think of your friends Eric and Kurt and the rest of the people you know serving this country to keep you and your family safe. You recognize a feeling most people would call gratitude, but you recognize that only scratches the surface of the thanks you feel.

Normally, they run a pretty tight ship with regard to start times. This time it is handled poorly, and you actually start 20 minutes late. As you roll out, you catch people discussing the possibility of storms coming in. The normal cutoff time to ride the 100 mile course is to reach a certain checkpoint at 10.30. The organizers reserve the right, it is said, to redirect 100 mile riders onto the 70 mile course if they don't make the cutoff by 10.00. There is not a cloud in the sky, so you don't worry about this. You're happy to be riding, finally, with Team Fish. And off you go onto the course.

LiveSTRONG: Ride for FIVE Prologue

2011-08-23T20:35:00.009-04:00

On Saturday, I arrived at the LiveSTRONG Expo center. It's an easy stop, and I walked through the various booths, checking out the scene en route to picking up the packets for Team Fish's riding cadre. This year was the most organized it has ever been, and the volunteers were, as they always are, anxious to help and incredibly friendly. I have been in a lot of events like this, and the volunteers are what make it, from the people staffing the tables to those guiding people as they arrive and those handling the parking lot. LiveSTRONG is very well organized in this respect, I have to say.

I passed out the first BUTNZ! to the two women who helped me gather the bags for Team Fish. Five bags is a lot of swag, so it was quite a bit to pull together, and they were so appreciative of the BUTNZ! It also led to conversations about team Fish and why I ride; which I thought was pretty cool. They were quick to congratulate me on 5 years as a survivor.

I also was able to visit at the Caring Bridge booth. Caring Bridge is an online website that enables people fighting cancer to keep in touch with friends and family about the ongoing treatments they are going through. It's a fantastic site that Collin, the 2 year-old boy who passed away from Lymphoma, used, and it was also the site my buddy Doug used to keep us apprised of his situation. I was able to plant a couple of flowers in the garden in their name.

This is the Trek Tent.

I visited the Trek Tent and was able to ask a question that has plagued this generation of cyclists like no other. While philosophers ponder whether existence or essence comes first and scientists wonder what the ideal number of wolves is to ensure survival of the species, our question is simpler, more esoteric, yet no less important. "Does Trek make good bikes?" I asked and was told, unequivocally by the representative from Trek, that they do indeed make good bikes. Very good bikes, in fact. I feel like I can sleep now, knowing that.

I always make it a point to visit the Wall where you can post the names of survivors and those who have passed. I made a point to include this year's Team Fish. In past years, this has always choked me up, and it still did, but it was different. This year feels more like a celebration for both those who have survived and for the memory of those who have passed. Based on the conversations I had with Team Fish, I know we carry them with us, and no matter how much we miss them, they are, in so many ways, still with us every day.

So, I packed up the Team Fish swag and schlepped it over to my friend George "The BUTNZ Czar" sister's house. She was kind enough to host us for dinner and I had a great time hanging out with George and his family. George and I also took a brief 15 miler just to keep the legs active. I was also grateful for the steak dinner, which was delicious! We swam for most of the night, and discussed economic philosophy, then I headed for my "home".

I stopped for some takeout Chinese food on the way back, as a friend had suggested not only carbo-loading but also aiming to increase my calorie count the night before. It was good advice because I always find it difficult to eat the morning of an event. I always stay with Mrs. Fish's mom (Gram Fish?) and this year was no exception. She has had some health issues and is in the process of moving into assisted living, but her apartment was still open, so I was free to crash there. I realized this would be the last year I would be able to stay here, and it brought on a melancholy I wasn't prepared for. I brought it back to the room, ate it, set my alarm for EARLY and hit the proverbial sack (in this case, an air mattress). I fell asleep immediately.

Wheels...

2011-08-19T23:31:00.004-04:00

We are ready and I reached my personal goal of $2,500! Thank you to everyone who has chosen to be part of Team Fish!

Today is the Day!

2011-08-14T06:41:00.003-04:00

It was FIVE years ago today. I went to see my doctor and mentioned to him that I had some pain and discomfort. So, we did a quick check and he let me know it was probably due to a lump and that lump was probably cancer. He was right on both counts. Today, five years later, I am blessed. I am a survivor.

My friend Bill, a survivor himself, talked to me early on about the responsibility we have when given the cancer diagnosis. There are two parts. The first is to fight every single moment of every single day until you're cured. Reminders come in strange places at unexpected times. I remember one time when, late in my radiation treatment, when I was feeling particularly tired and sick and more than a little weary, I had to go for yet another treatment. I was not looking forward to it. When I went in, I got to talking to a kid in the office waiting room and he was heading in for his chemo treatment. At 11, his burden seemed so much greater than mine, yet he was there and ready to go. Fight every moment of every day.

The second thing Bill talked about was the responsibility of the survivors. When you come out on the other side, you carry the light for those who are being diagnosed with this disease, to pass along the help, the inspiration, the courage, the knowledge of what it was that helped you become a survivor. I caught mine early. I had friends and family who supported me in amazing ways. I received incredible prayer support. I had amazing doctors and I live in the country with the most advanced healthcare system in the world. Beyond that, I had support from other people who had survived, who helped me understand what I was dealing with. They helped me understand doctors, become an advocate for myself, find information about the disease (I am one of those people who wants to know MORE, not less), access resources. Now, I find myself doing that for others, in the hopes that I can live out that part of Bill's vision.

It's also why I ride. In the past five years, with the formation of Team Fish or Cut Bait, we have now raised nearly $20,000 to fight cancer. This year, the Ride for FIVE was formed to commemorate my fifth anniversary as a survivor. My friend Alwyn, a two-time cancer survivor, calls it Carpe Diem Day, the day when he chose to seize control of his life and live it.

To Bill's two commands, I would add a third. Remember. Remember both those who have survived and touched our lives because they understand what it is to be a survivor, like Bill and Alwyn and Bev (who mentored me through so many ups and downs). And, remember those who have passed. As long as we remember their stories, their fight, their lives, and how they touched us, they didn't fight in vain. I choose to remember the good things they taught me, what they showed me of courage and humanity. I remember Bob's unyielding faith, how he felt not that he was passing this world so much as he was simply going home. And Terri's light, her humor and her smile, the way the whole world seemed better just because she was in it. I remember Collin's bravery and the joy of how much he loved his family, and was loved by them, and how that love continues to spread. I remember Lucy and how brightly she shone, if only for a moment, like the world could not contain that much for any longer than it did; but like the brightest shooting star, I can still see that light when I blink my eyes and think of her. And Beth, who brought so much love to every thing she did, and when she left, she made sure it stayed with the people she touched.

I promise to carry the light. I promise to fight. And, I promise to remember.

Team Fish: Ride for FIVE Update

2011-08-13T21:49:00.002-04:00

Just a quick update. Team Fish is now INTERNATIONAL with contributions from England and Bulgaria! We have reached our rider total of FIVE riders with my friend Jennifer signing on! And, we are more than half way to our goal of $5,000. Absolutely awesome!

That being said, we still need your help! Won't you please consider supporting usa by clicking THIS LINK?

Thank you so much, everyone, for all of your support. Onward and upward!

Training Ride

2011-08-13T20:27:00.005-04:00

I put in a training ride across the area today, packing in about 78 miles. All in all, I felt pretty good throughout the ride, though I got a little sore at the end. I saw a boatload of animals, including dairy cows out in force, an unusual preponderance of goldfinches (not sure what that's about; I've seen a LOT of them this year on my rides) and a heap of sheep. I also managed to pick up a hitchhiking praying mantis.

I've said before if you can ride in Pennsylvania, you can ride anywhere. I hit a lot of chipseal. In this area, they lay down a layer of oil, then spread chipped gravel on top of it. The chips stick to the oil and the passing of cars presses it into the existing asphalt. No. I am not making this up. The problem is that when they first lay it down, it is, as you might imagine, a complete mess. Not to mention the vibrations from the chips before they get pressed into a (semi) flat state.

Riding into Boiling Springs, a small town near me, I saw a bunch of cones and some people standing near them. I asked what was going on and it turned out there was a triathlon in town. So, I pedalled forward and ended up doing the course in reverse, cheering the competitors on as they went by. It was very cool to see their faces light up as I cheered for them.

Taking stock, I have two minor concerns. I am getting a a vibrating in my right elbow and I have a shooting pain, albeit manageable, down my left leg. I am thinking some ice and yoga should make a difference.

One last shot of my buddy - I see COWS!

Check them out: BUTNZ!

2011-08-04T02:54:00.004-04:00

Check out this year's BUTNZ! They are AWESOMENESS!

Team Fish supporters get one for supporting Team Fish and the Ride for FIVE. And, wait until you see the rim stickers! Huge thanks to Kurt at www.BUTNZ.com for this again!

As always, you can support Team Fish in The Ride for FIVE by CLICKING HERE.

BUTNZ!

2011-07-31T07:26:00.003-04:00

One of the cool things that happens with Team Fish is that my friend Kurt makes BUTNZ! for us. Last year's looked like this:

Kurt has been making BUTNZ for years, and they make a great toss out to people as we ride through the course. I also give them to the people who support the ride, and who support Team Fish. You can not believe how much BUTNZ! brighten someone's day.

Kurt has made BUTNZ! for us all five years. On my first ride, I met a woman named Diane who was undergoing chemo and had timed her treatments so she could ride LiveSTRONG. We rode for quite a while together, talking about surviving, and she was in that place where doctors weren't sure what kind of odds she had, but she was certainly sure. She just KNEW she was going to survive. I rode on, but not before I gave her a BUTNZ! and told her I would be praying for her. The tough thing about these rides is that you meet people and then you don't know what happens next, you aren't able to follow their stories.

The next year, my friend Kurt (a different Kurt, not the one who makes BUTNZ!) rode with Team Fish and, after the ride, was walking through the food tent. A couple sat down next to him and he struck up a conversation with them, then gave them a Team Fish BUTNZ! They asked about the significance of Team Fish, and Kurt went on to explain that it was kind of my rallying cry when things needed to change: It's time to either fish or cut bait. Well, there was a woman sitting behind them who overheard the conversation. "Did you say Team Fish," she asked. Kurt replied in the affirmative and the woman introduced herself as Diane. She had indeed made it through, and was, at that point, 8 months cancer free. Today, she would be approaching her five year anniversary.

BUTNZ! Kurt just mailed out this year's edition, and assured me they are going to AWESOME!!!! With Kurt, I have no doubt they are and I can't wait to see this year's BUTNZ! I cannot recommend his work or thank him enough for his kindness and support of Team Fish. If you want to know more about BUTNZ! or would like to order some for an event, you can find him at www.BUTNZ!.com.

You can Support Team Fish by CLICKING HERE!

Miles, Finally

2011-07-23T23:10:00.002-04:00

I managed to get to the doctor today. After nearkly two weeks of feeling absolutely terrible, I was diagnosed with (drum roll please) the common cold. I was hoping for something a little more exotic, like Scarlet Fever, but it turns out I just have a cold. Oh well. The good news is that I feel like I am finally getting better.

In fact, I finally felt well enough to ride today. I put in almost 30 miles, but it was 101 degrees when I left the house at 6.30. Jeez! The ride was actually two very different rides. Heading out, I was just spinning and trying to get my legs under me. They were most decidedly not cooperating. With a combination of the heat, the layoff and the lingering sickness, I just found it very difficult to find any kind of rhythm.

At the turnaround, I took on a little fuel and cooled down with a bottle squirt over the head. As soon as I hit the pedals, I felt a difference. The legs were responding and I could feel the bounce in the pedals. It was back, and it felt good to be riding. I covered the return ride nearly 2 miles per hour faster than when I went out.

I'm going to try to get a short ride in tomorrow morning as well. Perhaps it will be cooler. Perhaps.

Team Fish: The Ride for FIVE is Dancing!

2011-07-22T20:55:00.005-04:00

Team Fish has it's first official rider for this year. My buddy George is officially on board for our LiveSTRONG Ride for FIVE! Last year he kicked in the Team Guppy experience. This year I am promoting him to Team Fish for sure. It's so good to have you with us again, George.

On the fundraising side of things, Tom Kilgore has stepped up in a HUGE way and it will be my honor to ride for Joan Lewis. Big ups to my friends E, J. Scott, Kyle, and Marvin. After just one day of official fundraising, we stand at $775 toward our goal of $5,000. We're up early and DANCING ON THE PEDALS!

On a separate note, I was lamenting my lack of training. Yes, I am still sick. My friend Kurt gave me a word of encouragement which I would do well to remember, in cycling and in life. He said, "Sometimes in life you just don't get to prepare for what comes next. You are quite aware of that. Make the best of it. Push down, move forward, repeat..."

If things work out the way I hope, I'm going for a short ride tomorrow.

Ride for Five: Update

2011-07-21T20:22:00.002-04:00

In every battle, there is always that calm which precedes the clash of arms. The two armies face off across an expanse, sizing one another up, usually acquainted with the damage the other can inflict, the tactics they might employ, and trying to get some insight into exactly what is coming. You see it a lot in movies, in Gladiator when the Romans are facing the Germanic hordes, or the Orcs facing the Riders of Rohan at Helm's Deep for those of us who are Lord of the Rings geeks, or even the Scots and the English at Bannockburn as portrayed in Braveheart. And then there is that moment when someone lets fly with an arrow or a spear or even tosses a sword and the battle is joined.

So it is with Team Fish as we prepare for the fifth annual LiveSTRONG rideride, dubbed the Ride for Five. It's my fifth anniversary of winning against cancer. It's my fifth year of taking the battle to this monster. And once again we stand across the distance, facing off against each other, sizing one another up.

Once again, my friend Greg Woods has shot the first arrow into the battle. He has pledged the entire cost of my entrance for the LiveSTRONG event (and then some!) to get things roling for Team Fish. Words cannot express my thankfulness, and it will be my joy to ride in honor of John Woods.

So, with one month left before the battle is joined, and we're wading into it. Now, WHO'S WITH US?

Support us by CLICKING HERE.

Behind...

2011-07-21T20:06:00.002-04:00

One of the unfortunate side-effects of the National Stuttering Association's Annual Conference was the flight out, sitting next to a guy who had Captain Trips (or some such thing). I'm not sure how I always find "THAT" guy, but I do. And, as (my) luck would have it, I picked up the bug and have been laid low for about a week and a half, hacking, coughing, and generally not sleeping as an added bonus.

As a result, I am clearly behind in my training, having been sick for about a week and a half. This is the second sustained sickness I have had this year as I have prepared for the fifth annual LiveSTRONG ride. Still, I actually feel a little better today. I am hoping I can get in the miles necessary to do this right. And to survive it.

Thoughts and prayers are always welcome.

National Stuttering Association Annual Conference

2011-07-21T19:55:00.003-04:00

I went on vacation with the family to the National Stuttering Association's annual conference (frequent readers of the Fish Blog will recall theat Little Fish stutters, but it never seems to slow her down). We had the honor of meeting and listening to and meeting David Seidler, the Oscar-winning screenwriter of The King's Speech.

We also had a great time reconnecting with old friends and also meeting new ones. There were almost 1,000 people this year and more than 300 were first time attendees. The momentum gained by The King's Speech has really given a push to the awareness of those who stutter. Further, that awareness has led to more and more people finding the National Stuttering Association and getting resources, help and support. It's a great place for those who stutter, or if you know someone who does and the organization continues to get the word out: If you stutter, you're not alone.

Once again, I laughed, I cried, and it changed my life. Not to mention the incredible things it continues to do for my Li'l Fish. Pretty amazing time, to be sure.

Team Fish: The Ride for FIVE!

2011-06-28T12:29:00.002-04:00

FIVE.

FIVE years ago I was given a diagnosis that would change my life forever. FIVE years ago, I was diagnosed with cancer. It was FIVE years ago I dedicated myself to beating cancer at every turn, whenever and wherever I could. FIVE years ago, I became a survivor. FIVE years ago, Collin was still with us. So was Bob. And Terri. And John. And Lucy. And Beth. And a great many others.

FIVE years later, I am still here. And I am still riding in the belief that we can create a world where 28 million people can live lives of hope, of dignity, and of cancer-free joy.

This year, we have set a goal of FIVE Riders. We have set a fundraising goal of $5,000. It's our Ride for FIVE. We would love it if you could ride with us for Team Fish's LiveSTRONG Ride for FIVE. We would love it if you could support us in our Ride for FIVE.

So I'll ask again...Time number FIVE: "WHO'S WITH US?"

Support Me: CLICK HERE

Join Team Fish: CLICK HERE

What I Learned Riding My Bike to Work

2011-06-02T23:36:00.002-04:00

1) The world is flat when you're in a car. Those hills are bigger than they seem from behind the steering wheel, but, oddly enough, aren't as large as I thought when I was pedaling. Maybe I'm not in as bad a shape as I thought. Speaking of which, there is nothing like a ride in Spring to remind you that you promised you would be in shape this Spring. And that you have once again failed.

2) People in Central PA are generally respectful of cyclists. I have heard horror stories from bike commuters, and I have to say that most of them are great.

3) Pursuant to point 2, I do want to say to the motorcyclists out there to please remember that in many respects, we are brothers. We both ride on two wheels. We're both regarded as second-class citizens on the road. We're both always seen as going to slow or two fast. I would also like to point out the utter ridiculousness of questioning the sexuality of a cyclist while riding past in leather chaps. Just sayin'...

4) I don't generally think of a bra as optional equipment for a run on the MUT. For that woman that did, you might want to reconsider.

5) The world moves at a slower pace from a bike, and I find I am much, much more in tune with my senses when I ride. I can smell the flowers in bloom and the fresh cut grass, hear birds singing in the early morning air, feel the wind change direction and even taste the gnats that just flew into me in a frenzied swarm.

6) I really can't wait to do it again.

The Lorica of St. Patrick

2011-03-17T08:21:00.003-04:00

Lorica of Saint Patrick

I arise today
Through a mighty strength, the invocation of the Trinity,
Through a belief in the Threeness,
Through confession of the Oneness
Of the Creator of creation.

I arise today
Through the strength of Christ's birth and His baptism,
Through the strength of His crucifixion and His burial,
Through the strength of His resurrection and His ascension,
Through the strength of His descent for the judgment of doom.

I arise today
Through the strength of the love of cherubim,
In obedience of angels,
In service of archangels,
In the hope of resurrection to meet with reward,
In the prayers of patriarchs,
In preachings of the apostles,
In faiths of confessors,
In innocence of virgins,
In deeds of righteous men.

I arise today
Through the strength of heaven;
Light of the sun,
Splendor of fire,
Speed of lightning,
Swiftness of the wind,
Depth of the sea,
Stability of the earth,
Firmness of the rock.

I arise today
Through God's strength to pilot me;
God's might to uphold me,
God's wisdom to guide me,
God's eye to look before me,
God's ear to hear me,
God's word to speak for me,
God's hand to guard me,
God's way to lie before me,
God's shield to protect me,
God's hosts to save me
From snares of the devil,
From temptations of vices,
From every one who desires me ill,
Afar and anear,
Alone or in a mulitude.

I summon today all these powers between me and evil,
Against every cruel merciless power that opposes my body and soul,
Against incantations of false prophets,
Against black laws of pagandom,
Against false laws of heretics,
Against craft of idolatry,
Against spells of women and smiths and wizards,
Against every knowledge that corrupts man's body and soul.
Christ shield me today
Against poison, against burning,
Against drowning, against wounding,
So that reward may come to me in abundance.

Christ with me, Christ before me, Christ behind me,
Christ in me, Christ beneath me, Christ above me,
Christ on my right, Christ on my left,
Christ when I lie down, Christ when I sit down,
Christ in the heart of every man who thinks of me,
Christ in the mouth of every man who speaks of me,
Christ in the eye that sees me,
Christ in the ear that hears me.

I arise today
Through a mighty strength, the invocation of the Trinity,
Through a belief in the Threeness,
Through a confession of the Oneness
Of the Creator of creation

St. Patrick (ca. 377)

Cycling in PA in February

2011-02-21T20:14:00.002-05:00

I went for a ride this weekend, my first of the new year. It was an altogether awesome experience, but it occurs to me a primer on riding in Pennsylvania might be helpful. Some things to know:

1) The myth of tailwinds. There is a belief that if you ride into a headwind for the first half of your ride, it would necessarily follow that you would have a tailwind for the ride home. That rule applies where the rules of physics have, at the very least, some hold. That being said, this is the state that delivered Rick Santorum to Washington, so if you're thinking the rules of physics, or any form of what might be loosely construed as common sense, applies here, you're clearly mistaken. It was about 65 degrees, but with a front moving in, the winds whipped up to more than 50 miles per hour. At one point I almost got blown off the bike. The ride out was into a headwind. The ride back was spent dealing with a crosswind. The tailwind that should have been blowing me homeward, like a cycling Odysseus, was nowhere to be found. Still, I pedaled onward, clipping out after 20 miles.

2) There are three distinct seasons in Central PA. Summer, which is characterized by 90+ degree heat and 90+ percent humidity. Winter, which would be that season of ice, snow, slush, near Arctic temperatures. It's said if you can survive these two seasons in Pennsylvania, you're pretty much prepared to live anywhere. They neglect to mention the in-between time, known locally as Pothole Season. You'll recognize its beginnings when black ice and permafrost are no longer a daily thing; there is an occasional day where a bright orb, known in America as the Sun, can be seen occasionally in the sky; and people actually go outside for activities other than shoveling snow. This may or may not coincide with advice given by a certain groundhog from Punxatawney, PA which people recognize not so much as a prediction of future weather so much as one more excuse to drink and form a liquid barrier from the cold. We grow potholes in PA, and we grow them both large and plentiful. There are not a lot of advantages to testicular cancer, but one of them is that when you hit a Central PA pothole, you have a 50% better chance of surviving it intact than the average American male. Score one for me and Lance.

3) That first warm day is a lie. We had 65 degrees on Friday. It was 40 degrees on Sunday. Tonight we are looking at another 6 inches of snow. They say if you don't like the weather in Central PA, wait fifteen minutes. I don't think you usually need to wait that long. Honestly. Still, I got my ride in on Friday and a run in today, in anticipation that any semblance of outdoor-friendly weather was just a mirage. Sure enough, the mirage his rapidly disappearing.

So, if you're looking to ride in the area, I'm hoping this helps. And, if you're looking for a riding partner, I'll be the guy in the parka on the blue Cannondale. look for me at the bottom of a pothole.

The Odyssey of Pastor Mike: Part V

2011-01-27T19:53:00.003-05:00

Pastor Michael prayed and asked God what the next stage was, what more God might demand of him. “Go to Belarus,” was God’s reply. After five years of preaching in the prisons, hospitals, and streets of Russia, God was calling Pastor Mike to a new ministry.

The transition was difficult for Pastor Mike and for his wife Lena and his son Sasha. But God sustained them through the trials of the move. He started a church. God gave him power to heal the sick and to preach with authority, restoring families who had been broken by drug addiction and the rampant alcoholism in the country. Through it all, Michael remained a steadfast servant of God. His efforts, and the results they were bringing forth, attracted the attention of a local woman, Galina Samusenko, who would join the church and exhibit the same passionate fervor Pastor Mike had for serving others. She would go on to serve as an assistant Pastor.

Galina helped the church grow, and soon the worship services were overflowing. They opened a new church, then a third. They continued the Biblical commandments of feeding the poor and the needy, caring for orphans and widows. All of this activity began to attract the attention of the local authorities, who intimidated some of the parishioners. In Belarus, the only accepted religion is Orthodox Christianity, and to worship in the style of Pastor Mike and his parishioners is a jailable offense. Further, the collapse of the Soviet Union brought not liberation, but a tightening of the stranglehold the government of Belarus inflicted on its citizens. Times grew tougher for Pastor Mike's church.

Yet Pastor Mike and his congregation continued to worship. Further, their farms were prospering, and they began to feed the people of the local village, then the surrounding villages. Pastor Michael petitioned the local government to approve his church as an official church, and finally, after many years, it was accomplished. The church continued to face discrimination and injustices, but it also continued to grow.

Pastor Mike's church formed an alliance with my church, Aldersgate and things continued to prosper. The churches supported one another, and the financial support we were able to provide helped build a new church in Krichev. It was placed at the top of the only hill in the town, a shining beacon on the hill, and a sign of just how much things had changed. Further financial support from Aldersgate enabled Pastor Mike’s congregation to purchase a tractor, allowing them to grow more crops, and feed more people. And still the church grew.

The church garnered more land and set up pens for pigs, geese and ducks. Pastor Michael created a Church Camp, a safe haven for kids who no longer had to be at the mercy of predators in the streets. The Church created a children's Sunday school, a Bible school for adults, a daily prayer service, a women’s and men’s group, youth services, and Praise and Worship services. Today, the three churches have more than 200 people attending.

God continued his work of redemption with Pastor Michael right until the end. Shortly before his death earlier this summer, Pastor Michael received a message from God that He was going to call him home. True to his nature, Pastor Michael called his team, including Galina, the young woman who had so enthusiastically joined the church and served as his right hand, and told them they needed to begin preparations for a time when Pastor Michael would no longer be with them. They worked together to institute a transition plan, and the Krichev Church was accepted as a member of the International United Methodist Churches. Shortly thereafter, Pastor Michael was called to his rest.

The Odyssey of Pastor Mike: Part IV

2011-01-27T19:35:00.004-05:00

Michael Kazimirov was wrapped in the arms of a forgiving God, weeping and appealing to God because he wished to live. To truly live. It was a sincere plea, born not out of a selfish need for preservation, but out of the realization he had not served God to this point in his life, and there was much to do. He pledged his life to God, begging for forgiveness, for direction, for absolution. And it came upon him in waves.

Several months later, as the date of Michael’s execution drew close, the military tribunal reconvened, unexpectedly. Michael faced the court, unafraid, knowing that God was moving, and was not surprised when he heard his sentence changed from death to a life sentence. He saw the hand of God moving now, committed himself to following where it led him. But where would it lead? What would happen next? How would he know where to go? He had so many questions, but this time he sought the answers, and he had a place to turn.

Michael returned to prison that day, and began to read. He picked up the Bible from his cell, seeking God’s words, devouring it like a meal set before a man who had been starving for years, which was, in effect, what he was. God continued to move, but now Michael knew who was in charge of his life, recognized the force of God. Michael was allowed to mingle with the other prisoners and began to share the word of God with the lost souls who occasionally surrounded him, men just as lost as he had been.

And Michael Kazimirov spoke with authority, showing the men how God was working in his life and the power of God’s forgiveness. Not surprisingly, his fellow prisoners began to listen. At first, just a few came, huddled close to hear the story this former Special Forces soldier, this murderer who had been redeemed by God’s love. Word spread throughout the prison of a man with the fire of God about him, and Michael was preaching with the fire and zeal of a new believer, a man who had experienced the redemption of the Holy Spirit. His ministry continued to grow in the prison and he became the prison pastor. After 12 years, he had 50 people in his group of believers.

The tribunal convened again, and Michael’s sentence was declared complete. After twelve years, God released him from his chains, and Michael was a free man. He went back to school and applied himself in the study of God’s word and was ordained as a Pastor. He preached in his native Russia for five years, building churches, visiting hospitals and prisons, bringing good news to all who would hear it. Michael looked at his work and felt satisfied; he was bringing the Word of God to his people, as he had promised to do.

But once again Michael began to get the feeling he was missing something, that there was a question he was not answering, that something was about to change.

The Odyssey of Pastor Mike: Part III

2011-01-27T19:31:00.004-05:00

The dungeon was a perfect place to wait for execution, if such a thing can exist. It was cold and there were no windows, no visible way to the outside. There was very little light, save what was offered by a single, bare bulb hanging from the ceiling. Michael tried to warm his hands by the heat of the bulb, but it was hung just too high. It was a place devoid of hope. “Perfect,” thought Michael Kazimirov. But there it was again, that feeling that he had missed something. Only now, Michael had no place to shoe it away to. He was a condemned man, a hard worker with no work to bury himself in, a soldier with no battles to fight, a boxer with no opponent on the other side. It was all gone: his career, his honor, the respect he had earned. He had nothing but the icy, inflexible floor of this prison and his life, and he recognized he would soon lose both. The recognition was without bitterness, only a slow resignation to his fate…except for that feeling. What was it?

The cell was sparse. Michael. The light bulb. A blanket. A book. Absentmindedly, he picked up the book, undoubtedly left by a previous inhabitant, who put it down as he walked (or crawled, or was dragged) out to die, as Michael himself would do when the time came. He wondered grimly how many men before him had done this exact pantomime. He did not open at the front of the book, but rather let it fall open, as he slumped down on the floor to read by that dim bulb.

It flopped open to Psalm 91 and Michael Kazimirov read:

He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the LORD, "He is my refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust." Surely he will save you from the fowler's snare and from the deadly pestilence. He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart. You will not fear the terror of night, nor the arrow that flies by day, nor the pestilence that stalks in the darkness, nor the plague that destroys at midday. A thousand may fall at your side, ten thousand at your right hand, but it will not come near you. You will only observe with your eyes and see the punishment of the wicked. If you make the Most High your dwelling – even the LORD, who is my refuge- then no harm will befall you, no disaster will come near your tent. For he will command his angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways; they will lift you up in their hands, so that you will not strike your foot against a stone. You will tread upon the lion and the cobra; you will trample the great lion and the serpent. "Because he loves me," says the LORD, "I will rescue him; I will protect him, for he acknowledges my name. He will call upon me, and I will answer him; I will be with him in trouble, I will deliver him and honor him. With long life will I satisfy him and show him my salvation."

…and the arms of God came into his prison, wrapped Michael in love and comforted him. It was that sudden. Michael Kazimirov had found the answer to his question, to his doubts, to his fears, to what was missing all those years. The suddenness of the realization shook him. First, there was no God, then there was God, though later Michael would realize there had always been God, it was only that he had not been looking for God, and therefore was not seeing Him. Michael Kazimirov once a hard worker, Special Forces Operative, and Champion Boxer of the Baltic fell into the arms of God and wept the tears of a Child of God.

The Odyssey of Pastor Mike: Part II

2011-01-27T19:28:00.004-05:00

Michael Kazimirov had it all: a solid career, renown, respect. But still there was a nagging in the dark recesses of his mind that something was missing. He had managed to brush it off and put it out of his mind, but it kept coming back. One night, while he was out with his comrades, he decided to go to dinner at a restaurant. There was a disturbance and the police were called. Two militiamen and an officer tried to quell the disturbance, but the situation escalated with the police and a full-on fight quickly began.

In the mind of Michael Kazimirov, the world went red. All of his professional training took over and all of his Special Forces hardness and boxing prowess came to the forefront. And, it was over. There was an odd stillness to the room. This was a restaurant after all, used to the bustle of tables being waited upon and food being ordered, of diners laughing at the days events or discussing their plans. The din was interrupted by the even louder conflagration of the fight, a rowdy soldier's brawl. And then there came that long, terrible silence. In the quiet, the red drained from Michael’s eyes and he looked around, and more accurately, down at the damage. Both militiamen were completely disabled, lying on the floor, their chests heaving from exertion but unable to move. The officer lay in an unnatural position, the kind that, had he been conscious, he would have immediately shifted his position for the pure discomfort of it. Looking intently at the officer, Michael suddenly realized what was different about the man: the heaving breaths, the signal of life exhibited by the two militiamen, was absent from the officer. A quick check revealed the man was dead.

There was a trial, performed in the Soviet style. Either you did something or you didn’t, and Michael had killed a man. An officer. The trial proceeded quickly, and at the end the court was “inclined to the maximum measure of punishment.” Michael was sentenced to be executed and was sent to the chamber of condemned men, a cold dungeon where he was to wait for his execution. He was alone, a man without hope, and it didn’t matter. He was just waiting to die.

The Odyssey of Pastor Mike: Part I

2011-01-27T19:20:00.002-05:00

Pastor Mike was the pastor who welcomed me into his church family when I went to Belarus. He was an incredible man of faith, and I was asked to share his story with my congregation here, as a way to help my church understand the church in Belarus. While I was writing his story, he passed on to the next life after a massive heart attack. This is his story.

Michael Kazimirov was born in the Soviet Union near Bryansk, a small village nestled up to a dense and beautiful wood. Growing up, he busied himself with helping his family, as was the custom of children there. It was a physically demanding existence, but Michael was a strong boy. He took a keen interest in gymnastics, especially the horizontal bar, and soccer. He was a natural athlete and excelled.

At 16, he left home to go to Riga for school. It was here that he studied seamanship and joined the military, but it was his athletic prowess that won him initial recognition. Michael turned his athletic interests to boxing, and his strength and fearlessness led to many bouts…and many victories. Michael was relentless in his pursuit of excellence, and he finally reached the pinnacle of his boxing career when he was crowned Champion of the Baltic for his weight class.

Similarly, his military career was taking off; the incredible drive that made him successful at boxing also led to advances in his job. He was promoted to the highest level of the Spetsnaz, the Soviet Special Forces which are the equivalent of Soviet commandos. Their training is incredibly harsh, and the demands placed on Spetsnaz commandos are among the most rigorous in the world. In short, they are the elite fighting force of the Soviet Army, and Michael had risen through their ranks.

He was given the toughest missions and traveled throughout the region, meeting and exceeding the requirements of the most demanding assignments. Michael Kazimirov had it all: a solid career, renown, respect. But as is so often the case, something seemed…wrong. It occasionally nagged at him, creeping into the backdoor of his consciousness and gnawing at the edges of his mind and his…what was it? Michael tried to brush it aside, to shoe it out like a rodent and then plug up the hole. It was his nature to increase his efforts at work and his boxing, convinced that sweat, effort and focus would keep whatever that gnawing thing was at bay. Boxing and work, work and boxing, boxing and work: surely that was the solution! But, it always found a way back in, quiet as a church mouse.

Dash for Drew

2010-11-26T12:03:00.005-05:00

I ran. In a race. Frequent readers of the Fish Blog will remember my friend Randy Taylor who lost his son in a horrible car crash. Out of that tragedy, he and his wife Marcie created the Drew Michael Taylor Foundation. Through the Foundation, they have created a regional resource for people grieving the loss of loved ones, as well as providing athletic activities for underpriveleged youth. Pretty amazing stuff.

The Foundation also sponsors a race, the Dash for Drew. It's held every year to raise money for the Foundation. This year I went down with my two friends, Carl and Justin. My goal was to race the 2 miles in less than 20 minutes, a pretty solid goal given my recent practice performance and the fact that it is held on a cross-country course. We got there about an hour early, which is surprising since none of us knew exactly where we were going, a fact I learned as Carl drove south toward the race. Thank God for mobile phone apps and the power of Teh Inatrwebz (and like that).

Sign-in was effortless, then Justin went for a run while Carl and I went for a jog. We ended up doing a one-mile light jog around the track. It felt good and I stretched at the end of the jog. I felt nice and loose as the race approached. I pulled the laces tight and got up to the start area. The horn sounded and off we went.

I started in the middle-back of the pack, not comfortable to run with the rabbits, including Carl and Justin. That being said, I felt really good as the race started and began stretching it out a bit very shortly into the run. There was a small hill about a half-mile in, and I started powering up and forward. I still felt good. Coming down the trail, it narrowed and I settled in to a comfortable pace with some guys my own age. We came up on the first mile and the guy was belting out the current times: 9:07, 9:08, 9:09, 9:10... I had gone out fast, but I still felt good. I pushed passed the guys I was with and felt my lungs reach their limits.

It's not a bad thing, that feeling. I felt like it was sustainable pace with a mile to go. I decided to try to hold that faster pace through the end. The race comes out through the forest and back to a loop outside the track. I measured the track and the distance left to go and notched it up a half a beat. When I hit the track, I busted into a full (for me) sprint and finished strong.

All-in-all, it felt fantastic. I still felt I had more left at the end, but my time was 17:10, which is waaaaay faster than I anticipated.I was 24 out of 38 in my age group and 94 out of 178 overall. I can't wait to do it again next year!

...And Justice for Some...

2010-11-11T22:14:00.002-05:00

It's not often that I have no words, but this story coming out of Colorado absolutely takes everything right out of my mouth. It seems Martin Erzinger, a wealth manager for Morgan Stanley ran over a Doctor, one Steven Milo. But the doctor made the mistake of being on a bicycle, and accidents involving cyclists often seem to create a situation where justice is meted out in appallingly sparse portions and in an equally incomprehensible manner. After running over the good doctor, our wealth manager left him. For dead, presumably.

But, see, Marty invests over $1 Billion dollars in assets in the local Colorado community. So the District Attorney, Mark Hurlburt, decided that it would not be in anyone's best interest to prosecute this as a felony, and is hitting Marty with a couple of misdemeanors. Apparently, that's the going rate for getting run over and left in a ditch with spinal cord injuries and bleeding on the brain, not to mention what might be the end of his career as a liver transplant doctor.

Thank goodness Morgan Stanley has decided to do the right thing! Oh. Wait. "This unfortunate situation was not related to the individual's professional activities, but we are continuing to monitor the situation and will cooperate fully with law enforcement, if requested," said a Morgan Stanley representative. Translation: We'll keep this jerk on the payroll unless people stop investing their money with us.

Oh HAI!!!!

2010-11-11T21:44:00.003-05:00

Yes, I still live. They say all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. Not sure what it does to a Fish, but it can't be good. That being said, it's not been all salt mines and unhappiness. So, to catch you up on my life, here's the basic rundown:

Item I: Youth Group
I am helping to lead my church's Middle School and High School youth group, including a group of Seventh Grade boys. It's something that has been following me for more than 10 years, since I left teaching. I'm really digging it, actually, and like the guys I have been grouped with. They bring a lot of energy and ideas, and it has made for a lively group with good discussion and high activity. Plus, we're tackling real issues for kids that age: purity, honesty, integrity, and the like.

Item II: My Gut
I haven't worked out consistently since August's LiveSTRONG Challenge. Funny how quickly that can get away from you. Clearly, cycling season is largely over, but I have begun running again. Or rather, tried to start running. I have a pair of orthotics and the right one is turning the bottom of my foot into hamburger. A half-dozen adjustments haven't made a difference and I am alternating between frustration and being homicidal. I'm not sure how that would sit with the youth group, but Christ did ask us to visit those in prison, so maybe that's something.

Item III: Back to school.
Mrs. Fish is a teacher and Li'l Fish is a student. Man, that'll take a bite. I went on a field trip with Li'l Fish to a ropes course and did a lot of the activities. Climbing is sooooo much fun, and I had a great time with her and her classmates. A highlight was climbing a thirty foot obstacle as part of a team with one of the neighbor kids. I have to say it was awesome watching Li'l Fish challenge herself past her preconceived notions of what she thought was possible. I was very proud of her...and still am.

There are probably about 20,000 other things I haven't even touched on, but in the end we just know it as life. I simply wanted to throw it out there and say, "HEY! I'm still Alive!"

LiveSTRONG IV: Part III

2010-08-27T07:28:00.006-04:00

It was pouring down rain but we soldiered onward. A lot of people came out to wish us well, clapping, yelling, cheering and cowbelling. A bunch of families even set up tents in their front lawns to stay out of the rain but remain in shouting distance. Passing out BUTNZ! in the rain proved challenging, but I found if you gave them a Chinese-throwing-star action, they sailed farther. It was kind of cool to watch them flying through the air like something out of a Ridley Scott movie.

We arrived at the 70-100 mile route split and the race organizers said the 100 mile route was now closed. CLOSED! WHY? "There's lightning up on top of the mountain." Oh. That's a good reason. The bad news was we weren't going to get to ride 100 miles today. The good news is that instead of being 1/3 of the way done, we were now 1/2 way done.

There were a couple of guys that went up into 100 mile route, heading toward the hills. Kurt asked me if I would consider riding the 100 mile course unsupported. I said, "If something bad happens up there, you are alone. No help, probably no phone reception (it was spotty at best last year) and the hills all have switchbacks up and down them. I think 70 is plenty of riding today." He quickly agreed and off we went, with Sean, on the 70 mile course. The rain continued to pour down, but was getting lighter.

At one point Kurt, who is naturally gregarious, met a guy named Dana, who decided to ride with us. Dana was a good guy and we enjoyed riding with him the rest of the way. As we crested a hill, I looked and saw a long, slow, downhill ride ahead of me. I saw there was no shoulder to the right, and the right side of the road had been "repaired" by the local construction crews whose mandate was clearly, "Throw something in that hole; it's Miller Time."

All that to say I was riding about 2-3 feet into the road, which by Pennsylvania law is exactly where I should have been. I say that because suddenly there was a car behind me, honking. Urgently. There was no place for me to go, so I held me line, thinking this person would go around me, which they easily could have done as there was no traffic coming the other way. In short, I was being harassed because I had the temerity to ride a bike in a cancer event. Surely there must be something else going on. Finally, the Prius passed me and one of the fattest sausage-fingered hands came out of a rolled-down passenger-side window, and a single finger was extended. The Prius then rolled on ahead.

A woman cycled up next to me and said the car had been harassing people all the way down the mountain. I said, "I find they're often nicer when you catch up to them and let you know what you're doing" then dropped down a couple of gears and went up ahead. Sure enough, he was stuck behind another group of riders. I came up behind and said, "Sir, you know we're raising money for charity here, right?"
The guy rolled down the window, stuck his Duff Goldman-looking Fat-head out and launched into an expletive laced tirade about how we jam his roads up every year, how he pays taxes for these roads and we don't, how he's tired of people like me yada, yada, yada. Dude was pissed. I just looked at him and said, "Really? Really" Begin tirade two. We came to a crossroad and the car turned right. I'm glad it didn't escalate any farther, but I really don't understand how a Prius owner of all people could have a problem with cyclists. Really. I looked right behind me and Kurt was hanging next to me. He had seen the whole things and decided to get my back, riding up in support just in case. He looked at me and kind of laughed, but I know he was thinking, "Only the Irish guy can find trouble on a freaking charity ride." And, he's right. Note to Mrs. Fish - I never go looking for trouble, it just seems to find me. Honestly.

The rain had slowed a lot and we continued to ride. We came to yet another section of hills, with a sizable downhill. Volunteers at the top of the hill were telling people to slow down and take it VERY easy. I asked one of the volunteers, "What, no bombing the hill?"
"No," was all she said.
Of course, I was joking, having seen what happens when people overestimate their abilities and/or underestimate the treachery of the course. Neither of these scenarios appealed to me, so I pumped the brakes to make sure they were good and dry, then tilted myself down the hill.

Experienced riders lean their bicycles to steer. Inexperienced riders use their handlebars to steer. On a downhill, the difference is even more pronounced, because when you use the handlebars, the bike pitches to the side you are steering toward. Amateurs sense this pitching, this shift in weight of the bike, and it feels like they are going down. The natural response in this situation is to steer the opposite direction and brake. This is one case where the natural response is also the wrong response. The slowing down takes the energy out of your bike, the energy that is required to make the turn. And keep the bike upright. Which is why the guy directly in front of me went through this exact series of disastrous-ballet moves and went down in a heap right in front of me. In a way it was my fault, having not left enough room in the likely event this happened.

There is a promise that God gives that he will send his angels to protect us when we need them, and I believe this was (yet another) one for me. Everything slowed down to the proverbial slow motion. I saw him try to make the right turn, panic, overcorrect and fall to the left. I steered to the right so I didn't run him over and knew immediately I was going to clip the back end of his bike and go down. I unclipped my shoes from my pedals as the bike started too go down.
I yelled as loud as I could "CRASH CRASH CRASH!!!1!" so people behind us would know and avoid us. I flew over the handlebars, stepped down with my left foot right into his chainring teeth. My body pitched forward into a semi-pushup and my left hand got a rock stuck in it where it hit. I was so glad I went back to retrieve my gloves before the ride began.The whole thing took less than 2 seconds.

I did a self-inventory and realized nothing was broken. There was a terrible stinging in my left foot where his chainring had bitten into my leg, and now rain and sweat were mingling in the shark bite there. My second thought was immediately to see if the other guy was okay. He had, in effect, just laid the bike down, and was fine. He kept apologizing over and over and asking if I was okay, and except for the hand and leg, I was okay. Then I remembered: My BABY!!! I reluctantly looked at my ride and there she was, lying on her side in the rain. I picked her up, gingerly, checking the frame. Fine. The wheels? Fine. The brakes and shifters? Also good. My water bottle had tumbled 50 feet down the hill, my odometer had gone about 10 feet int he same direction. I gingerly hobbled down to get both, but mercifully, everything was fine.

Sean, Kurt and Dana kept asking if I was fine, but I realized the real test was going to be getting back on the bike. I did. It hurt. A lot, actually. I pedalled and took a quick physical inventory. The leg hurt, the hand too, my collarbones/shoulders were both sore and my lower back was tightening up a bit, but I had maintained my record of 43 years without a broken bone. In the pain I was feeling, I actually gave more than a passing thought to one of my own cycling heroes, Jens Voigt, a man among men in the professional peloton. He crashed spectacularly in this year's Tour de France but refused to quit (Amazing story and funny interview about that: CLICK HERE). If Jens could do that, I could surely finish this. I also thought about how hard cancer survivors have to fight every day, and I knew I could finish for them. My guys asked me one more time if I was okay.
"Yeah. I got this."

We rode the last 20 miles or so in good humor. The riding was getting things moving, and except for my lower back, everything else felt a little better. It was more of a blur this year, and the time went more quickly, I think in part due to the shortening of the course. I took the lead for Team Fish and rode in, Kurt, Sean and Dana riding in behind me. It's my favorite part of the ride for many reasons, but mostly for the remembrance of all the people who make up Team Fish, of those who are with us and those who are not. Some years it's just a little too much and this year was one of them; I finished with tears in my eyes this year thinking about all of the people who made up Team Fish, and for those who are no longer with us.

Thank you, Team Fish, for all of your thoughtful support over the past four years. Words cannot express the depth or breadth of my gratitude, and just how much it means to have you with me.

LiveSTRONG IV: Part II

2010-08-26T06:15:00.006-04:00

Papa Behr and Patfish decided to do the 45 miles. Team Fish usually rides the first 20 miles or so as a Team and we decided to do exactly that, riding out of the 100 mile chute in a light drizzle. All things considered, and in light of just how hot it has been in past years, I was actually welcoming the change. The first year we did it, the temperature rose to triple digits and the humidity was above 90%; the suffering was epic.In fact, this marked the first year where the temperature did not rise into the 90s.

I spent the time riding back and forth between Team Fish members, chatting with them and just generally enjoying the time we had together. It was good to reconnect with my brother, and we talked about his beautiful twins, and how fast they're growing up, how different they are, and how funny. The power stops were well organized and well-spaced again this year, about every twelve miles, so the first one was a perfect place to regroup. Having passed the place where Patfish got three flats in an eight mile span the first year, I felt like we could breathe a little, even though the rain seemed to be picking up.

About 15 miles into the ride, two police motorcycles came cruising over a hill going the opposite direction. I looked to see if it was officers John and Poncharello, but it was too hard to tell. Nonetheless, I knew they were harbingers of a different sort of arrival and said to those around me, "Here comes LANCE!" Sure enojavascript:void(0)ugh, riding right behind them was a small cadre of riders with Lance right in the middle. He passed within 10 feet of me, and while I should have turned around and dusted him over the next hill (I spared him THAT embarrassment, this being his special day and all), or at least said, "On yer left" what I managed was, "Thank you, Lance!"

Sadly, there was one lady right next to me who said, "That wasn't really Lance, was it?"
"I told you he was coming, didn't I."
"Yeah, but I didn't believe you." She was seriously bummed out.
A guy pulled up next to us and said, "Thanks for the heads-up that he was coming. That was SO COOL!"
"See," I said to the lady. "He believed me."
We talked for a while longer, then I gave her something even better than a moment with Lance. I gave her a BUTNZ!

I pedalled up with Kurt, Sean, Patfish and Papa Behr with Randy up ahead slightly. I noticed a guy in some distress on the right side of the road, and as is customary of riders, I asked, "You good?"
"Do you have any air?" he asked.
I told Team Fish to go on, I was going to get this guy some air for his flat tire.Sure enough, he had a flat, had replaced his inner tube and then jettisoned his air capsule all over the outside of his tire. I retrieved my air capsule (cyclists can carry an inner tube and enough air to inflate it under the seats of their bikes) gave it to him and showed him how to use it. He didn't look so sure, so I asked him if he wanted me to do it. "Please!" he said. I pushed the button and the air went into the tire. And right back out again. His inner tube had a flat in it. Either it was faulty or he didn't check the inside of the tire before putting a new one on. Either way, he was stuck and had to wait for one of the support vehicles, telling me he would be fine. Then, I gave him something that made the rain and the flat tire and the frustration all disappear: a BUTNZ!

I pedalled on faster, now, trying to catch up to Team Fish, and came upon a guy who went down badly. The medics were arriving, and there were a couple of cyclists with him, one sitting next to him and just speaking quietly. I later learned that he lost control in the turn and slammed into the guardrail on the opposite side of the road. It happened right in front of Randy, who stopped immediately to help. He stayed with him until the medics had things under control. Randy said he was sure bones were broken and that internal bleeding was even a possibility, but the response of the medics was very swift. I didn't see Randy there as I passed, but he remained behind us for the rest of the day. He is a strong cyclist, so I assumed he was ahead of us, rather than behind, and spent the rest of the day looking the wrong direction to find him.

And then the Heavens opened up. The light drizzle that had been present all day, sprinkled with intermittent rain, turned into a full onslaught of barbaric proportions. It was one of those sudden downpours and I couldn't see more than 10 feet ahead. We were riding over hills, and the uphills slowed me down and the hard pedalling served to help me stay warm. The downhills caused an increase in speed, and the rain stung like being shot with rock-salt. They bill this ride every year as a Challenge and every year the Challenge is a little different. Heat. Humidity. Hills. And now, rain. Surely, no amount of BUTNZ! would make this better. It sucked.

But then, something amazing happened. I prayed for help to get through this, and I started thinking about all of the people I knew who had cancer, including those who have passed. I thought specifically of the tears that have been shed BY them, and especially FOR them by their friends, their families, by the people who love them. And, I thought about how the heavens were crying now, reminding me of that. Like cancer itself, there was no use in complaining about it sucking, no sense in wishing it would stop. There was only the realization that we were all in this together, going forward, wrapped in a veil of love and tears.

I pedalled on with new resolve. And better perspective.

LiveSTRONG IV: Part I

2010-08-24T19:39:00.004-04:00

I woke up and rolled my bicycle out of the hotel, the swish of the doors closing behind me, hermetically sealing in my still-sleeping family. It was 6.00 am and the riders of Team Fish were arriving to the site, with me only minutes behind. The parking lot was glazed over with a light sheen from an evening rain, and the way the skies were lightening gave me the feeling that there was more on the way. I ran back inside, grabbed a couple of donuts from the continental breakfast, and then piled into my car. I changed my routine this year: I always lay out my complete ensemble the night before, meticulously accounting for everything I need and making sure it is exactly where I want it to be. In hindsight, I wish I had done it again Saturday night. The traffic was about the same as always, which meant that I was going to be right on time. But, upon pulling in, I really would have liked to have had more time to get things ship-top-shape and squared away.

This was my fourth tour of duty with LiveSTRONG and I was joined this year by my brother, Patfish Hunter (4th Tour): Kurt Fishmagic (3rd Tour); Papa Behr, the Patron Saint of BUTNZ! (1st Tour); Sean (2nd Tour, 1st with Team Fish) and Randy (1st Tour). I set a goal of six riders (the most we have ever had was four) and I was so glad these guys came out to ride with Team Fish this year. I contacted (a different) Kurt, the BUTNZ guru, and he designed and created pint glasses for the Team Fish riders, which I presented to them as a thanks for riding with me. It was like passing out really cool groomsmen's gifts, and they were very well received. Now all we had to do was pedal 100 miles to fill them.

Last year, Lance was at the World Cancer Summit, the beginning of an attempt to bring the nations of the world together to make collaboratively curing cancer a global concern. This year, he chose to spend the Sunday with us. The LiveSTRONG Philadelphia event offically kicked off with a great rendition of the Star Spangled Banner by a local soul/jazz singer. Note to humans: when the Anthem is sung, one is to remove one's hat/helmet, stand still and at attention facing the flag (or the music, if you can't see the flag), and SHUT UP! KTHXBAI. Lance gave a speech about how much he appreciated 3,200 riders coming out and raising more than $3 million to fight cancer. He also stated that Philadelphia had significantly raised the bar in fund-raising, and that his home town of Austin now had some catching up to do. He finished up by saying that he really likes the Philadelphia course because it's a particularly challenging course. I think a lot of people kind of perked up at that. I heard more than one person say, "Wait. Did he say Challenging? Lance thinks this is challenging? What did I get myself into?" There was the obligatory safety speech, which I actually listened to, given the conditions. I think a lot of people gave it the same attention they do airline attendants and company webinars, and I wondered how many of them would later regret not listening.

And then it was time. We started rolling out over the names of riders, chalked into the road Tour de France-style, a reminder of just how many people were involved in this event. The crowd was huge and everyone was cheering for us. I was reminded of those scenes in war movies where the soldiers march out (there's a great one in Glory) and people are trying to pass on their strength and courage to the guys going into battle. It felt like that, I imagined, and then I realized that we are at war. And we're going to WIN! It actually gave me goosebumps (yes, again) to hear the cheers of all those people and to think of Team Fish and the support you gave this year, to look around at the riders of Team Fish, a bunch of guys who decided to give up a lot of time to train to do this, to fundraise, and then spend a Sunday riding in the rain with some fool who thought it would be a good idea three years ago and hasn't had the good sense to quit. I love TEAM FISH!

And out onto the course we rode....

LiveSTRONG IV: Prelude

2010-08-23T21:27:00.005-04:00

First, I need to say a huge thanks to Team Fish, who reached EVERY GOAL we set this year! LiveSTRONG, and indeed surviving cancer, is all about the incredible people who surround me. I could not do ANY of this without you, and the words to express just how much I cherish you fail me.

I went down to the ride early on Saturday because I had to get my car serviced while I was in the area. I dropped my car off at the shop and took off for a ride, one of the advantages of having my bike with me. My tire had gone flat from the reinflation I did with the air canister (for some reason, when you use a canister to inflate the tube, it deflates drastically in about a day or so). Then I went 21st Century, cranked up my Blackberry and checked for bike shops near me. There was one 3 minutes from where I was, so I rode over there, borrowed a pump and rode on. I tooled around the Main Line, took a wrong turn and ended up in Philadelphia, then eventually found my way back, putting in about 20 miles. It was (mostly) a nice, easy meandering spin and it was cool to see the area from a bike.

One of my favorite things to do is go to the Expo the day before. Patty, a very personable volunteer, took the Team Fish information and promised to pull together our packets, then encouraged me to go enjoy the Expo. I always write down the names of the people who supported me, and the people they have asked me to remember, adding them to the wall. I had a really hard time adding Collin Marsh to a Memory Card instead of an Honor Card, this year. I miss Terri and Bob and Christine, and my friend Will's wife, Beth. But, I still was able to add a lot of Honor cards, and survivor cards for some friends, including my friends Bev, Bill and Doug. There were so many more cards, and it has always been bittersweet to hang them on the wall; this year was no different.

I returned back to see Patty and she had put all of the Team Fish packages together. I also was able to meet Dylan Trakas, who has helped put together the Philadelphia event every year. I always look forward to seeing him, and he seems to bring a positive attitude and a lot of energy to what he does. The volunteers are really what makes this event run, and they are incredible people for doing what they do. I picked up the packages and also went to the Long's Cycle tent, picking up 2 pairs of sunglasses (one normal and one high-tint yellow) and an Irish cycling cap for less than $20: Score!

My family has a tradition of eating dinner with Mrs. Fish's mom and we did it again for the fourth straight year. She has had health concerns, so I was ecstatic when I saw how good she looked and that she was able to join us yet again. We went to a local restaurant, got terrible service, but still managed to have a great time. Wrapping up, Mrs. Fish, Li'l Fish and I checked into a local hotel, had some Ben & Jerry's Imagine World Peace, and retired for the evening.

LiveSTRONG IV

2010-08-23T09:05:00.002-04:00

We survived another LiveSTRONG event. There was weather, crashes, road-rage and a few tears. Full ride report is coming up, and BUTNZ! will be coming out shortly. A HUGE THANK YOU to Team Fish for everything you did this year.

2010-08-17T17:20:00.002-04:00

When I set p my goals for this year's LiveSTRONG Challenge, I was trying to be optimistic. I set a goal of 6 riders, and lo and behold, six riders agreed to be part of Team Fish. I set a goal of $5,000, significantly more than I raised last year in an economy that is still down. Still, there it was. To date, we are already above $4,000. My personal goal was to raise $2,500 and I am currently just this side of $2,000.

What that means is this: we're close. REALLY CLOSE. Would you please consider joining Team Fish. This year's Philadelphia Challenge is complete covered by corporate sponsorships, which means that all of the fundraising money goes directly to the cause, to help kill cancer.

I already have 40 people who have joined me on Team Fish. If you'd like to make a contribution, no matter how small, CLICK HERE. It's quick, it's easy, and it helps me kill cancer. Thanks so much!

Cancer: Four Years Later

2010-08-14T19:57:00.007-04:00

Today is the fourth anniversary of my cancer diagnosis. I celebrated by riding 68 miles with my buddy Kurt and a bunch of his buddies. I was pretty good until about mile 55, at which point I began to realize I hadn't eaten enough. I started to bonk, but managed to get through the last 10 miles by gritting my teeth and thinking about how much it hurts to have cancer. I thought about people I have known and people I have never met and people who have passed and how much they would love to be riding with me on this day.

Upon arriving home, I found that Teh BUTNZ! have arrived! I think it's my other buddy Kurt's best work ever. The second BUTNZ has a place to put names on it - how incredibly cool is that? Cheggit:

I then cooked shrimp and pasta for the beautiful Mrs. Fish and for Li'l Fish and we're going to enjoy (I think) Julie and Julia.

I always think I had a good handle on how blessed my life was, even before cancer, so I haven't really have any life-altering revelations in the four years since I was diagnosed. Maybe I appreciate, a little more, how fragile life can be, and how sweet, and like all things fragile and sweet, it's meant to be savored a little more.

Doubts

2010-08-11T21:32:00.002-04:00

Every year around this time I go through a period of doubt. I think wrestling with the mental part of the LiveSTRONG Challenge is almost as big a part of the Challenge as the physical part. I have less than two weeks to go and those niggling details hit the back of my mind.
Have I ridden enough miles?
Have I covered enough hills? I still haven't made it up Lamb's Gap, my test of preparedness in past years.
Have I prepared enough? Am I going to cramp up like I have in past years in the heat?
Has my diet been what it should have been?
Have I done enough fundraising, because that's really what this is all about?
Have I neglected other things to do the Challenge?

The doubts come and go and for the most part I can keep them at bay. I realize also that being mentally tough is a HUGE part of survivorship, and that's probably why the Challenge is set up the way it is.

Thanks to all of you for your thoughts, prayers, and support. It means so very much.

Second Milestone!

2010-08-09T22:20:00.002-04:00

I went away for a week, camping with Li'l Fish, and came back to see that Team Fish or Cut Bait has cleared $2,000 in the fight to beat cancer! A huge thank you to Team Fish for your continued thoughtful support.

Want to be a part of Team Fish or Cut Bait? CLICK HERE and follow the simple directions to make a pledge. No amount is too small - we just want you with us!

FBS: Where Have You Been All of my Life?

2010-08-04T05:49:00.002-04:00

My buddy Brad, in between bouts of complaining about the government, comes up with some excellent ideas and shares some great information (actually, he still manages to do that while complaining about the government, too). He was part of the brain-trust that came up with the Men's Moving Mission, a group of guys from church that help people in difficult places move, including a lot of women who are in domestic violence situations. It was Brad who first invited me to go to Belarus (which, incidentally, was the catalyst for starting this blog).

So, when we were talking about favorite foods one day, and he mentioned a Fried Bologna Sammich (FBS) I knew I was in for something special. I'd never had one, having grown up in my mother's house, a land of baking from scratch and whole-food ingredients long before it was the fashionable thing to do. I remember we used to go down to the local farm early in the morning so Mom could get the freshest eggs, which were brown as eggs should be. It wasn't until I started eating at the homes of friends that I learned there were white eggs. Mom's house was most definitely NOT a home that included the standard white-trash comfort foods of Middle America, though I suspect this was as much out of ignorance (Mom was born in Dublin) as choice. Hot dogs, rarely served, anyway, came with ketchup and without baked beans, mac-n-cheese was never served in my house, and even soup was just as often made from scratch as from the ubiquitous red, white and gold can of Warhol's suburbia.

I determined that I had to try a fried bologna sandwich and committed to doing it properly. I made slits through the center of three slices of bologna in an "X" pattern. I dropped them into a non-stick pan a cooked them until crispy, then plopped them on wheat bread (I know, if it was a real FBS it would have been white, but I can still, at 43, hear Mom's disapproval and I don't doubt for a second she would have called me the second I took a bite and asked just "what do you think you're DOING?"). I put on a slice of American cheese (I now prefer Colby-Jack), lettuce and tomato, and settled in to eat my creation with a mixture of fear and anxious anticipation.

"Oh. My. Gawd! FBS, where have you been all of my life?" It was fantastic. Amazing. The slight crunch of the crispy bologna was reminiscent of the current culture vogue item, bacon. The contrast of cold lettuce and hot bologna, sweet tomato and salty bologna were like the magic of Siegfried and Roy: good on their own merits, but infinitesimally better together.

Now I am off and running into the exploration phase of FBS. With so many options out there, there's simply so much to explore, and I have 40+ years of catching up to do. Want to make a FBS and don't know a Brad or similar Bologna-Zen-Master who can guide you? I also found this simple video helpful:

Bon apetit...fer real!

Team Fish or Cut Bait: First Milestone!

2010-07-28T23:27:00.005-04:00

Team Fish or Cut Bait has cleared it's first $1,000 in the fight to beat cancer! A huge thank you to those who have made contributions for your thoughtful support. An equally huge thank you to those of you who have e-mailed, called, PM'd and otherwise pledged your support for our ride.

Want to be a part of Team Fish or Cut Bait? CLICK HERE and follow the simple directions to make a pledge. No amount is too small - we just want you with us!

The Manifesto of the Lance Armstrong Foundation

2010-07-28T23:09:00.001-04:00

We believe in life.
Your life.
We believe in living every minute of it with every ounce of your being.
And that you must not let cancer take control of it.
We believe in energy: channeled and fierce.
We believe in focus: getting smart and living strong.
Unity is strength. Knowledge is power. Attitude is everything.
This is the Lance Armstrong Foundation.

We kick in the moment you’re diagnosed.
We help you accept the tears. Acknowledge the rage.
We believe in your right to live without pain.
We believe in information. Not pity.
And in straight, open talk about cancer.
With husbands, wives and partners. With kids, friends and neighbors. And the people you live with, work with, cry and laugh with.
This is no time to pull punches.
You’re in the fight of your life.

We’re about the hard stuff.
Like finding the nerve to ask for a second opinion.
And a third, or a fourth, if that’s what it takes.
We’re about getting smart about clinical trials.
And if it comes to it, being in control of how your life ends.
It’s your life. You will have it your way.

We’re about the practical stuff.
Planning for surviving. Banking your sperm. Preserving your fertility. Organizing your finances. Dealing with hospitals, specialists, insurance companies and employers.
It’s knowing your rights.
It’s your life.
Take no prisoners.

We’re about the fight.
We’re your champion on Capitol Hill. Your advocate with the healthcare system. Your sponsor in the research labs.
And we know the fight never ends.
Cancer may leave your body, but it never leaves your life.
This is the Lance Armstrong Foundation.
Founded and inspired by one of the toughest cancer survivors on the planet.

We are Team Fish, and we believe in life. If you can support our ride, we would really appreciate it. CLICK HERE to contribute and become part of Team Fish. No amount is too small - we just want you with us!

An Open Letter to Group Riders

2010-07-24T09:16:00.002-04:00

Dear Sir or Madam,

You are going on a group ride. That means that you know when it is planned and that there will be other people on said ride. You know that the general format for these types of rides that includes pacelines. You know that in any given paceline there is likely to be someone in front of you and someone behind you.

Recognizing these facts, I think it would be in everyone's best interest if you followed some simple rules. First, wash your clothes and make sure the ones you are wearing are clean. Second, wash yourself - there is really no excuse for this, not even if you are French. When in Rome, do as the Romans, and when in America take a shower with soap and warm water. Third, if you can't do this, at least have the common courtesy/decency to roll on a little deodorant.

I know what you're trying to do. I know you believe there is nothing that instills the feeling of riding in Le Tour de France quite like being in a paceline behind a person who is clearly trying to emulate their favorite French rider. That being said, it is one of life's more unpleasant experiences to paceline behind someone who smells like they're rolling along with an army of elves grating onions underneath one's kit.

Please commit yourself to the aforementioned guidelines before our next club ride. Thank you in advance for your cooperation. Thank you.

Best,

Fishr

Team Fish or Cut Bait's Fourth Annual LiveSTRONG Ride

2010-07-22T19:36:00.009-04:00

I remember asking God to make me more like Lance Armstrong (you're welcome, ladies). Four years ago, I was diagnosed with testicular cancer. Maybe I should have been more specific.

I went through a range of emotions when I was diagnosed: fear, confusion, depression, denial. But mostly I felt anger. Anger that this disease might take me away from my family and a full lifetime of memories with Mrs. Fish, that it might keep me from seeing my daughter graduate or get married or raise a family of her own. I vowed to fight cancer every moment, to take it out to the street and stomp it, to throw down the gloves and give it a Broad Street Bullies-style whupping. I've been in the battle ever since.

Regular readers of the Fish-Blog know my cancer story and have been instrumental in my survival. My team came together and I was incredibly blessed to have a strong family, an incredible team of doctors and nurses, and a group of friends who supported me in ways I never would have or could have imagined. You visited me, cooked for my family, cut my lawn, delivered care packages, e-mailed me, prayed for me, and supported me in my fight. I learned cancer, and more importantly, surviving cancer, is about people coming together.

Three years ago, we formed Team Fish or Cut Bait and went to the LiveSTRONG Challenge, a 100-mile bike ride in Philadelphia, to raise money to fight cancer. The first Challenge featured my brother, Patfish Hunter, and I riding through what was one of the most difficult and most amazing things I have ever done. Difficult because it was about 100 degrees with Pennsylvania's legendary humidity (if it's not hazy, hot, and humid, it's not August). Amazing because of the incredible outpouring of support I received and the people I met along the way. I was the very last person to cross the line of the 2007 LiveSTRONG Challenge. Yet, I can still hear the P-A system announcer saying: “NOW CROSSING THE LINE, NUMBER 468, ROBERT DUFFIELD. SURVIVOR!”

What started as my brother and I riding and a small, dedicated group of supporters who helped raise nearly $1,000 has evolved into a team of riders, and features nearly 100 people pledging their support to help us fight cancer and raising more than $4,000. Team Fish continues to grow because of the generous support we have received.

It's been a tough year. Last year, I dedicated a good portion of my ride to Collin Marsh, the two-year-old boy who fought so valiantly to beat a rare form of cancer. This year, I'll ride in his memory, thinking of the brave fight he put up, and how he inspired so many of us to be better people. As I was writing this, I heard from a guy I barely knew, a husband and father of two young children who is gearing up for the fight of his life. A man who helped form the foundations of my faith was diagnosed this year, and my Uncle Ted as well. We ride for all of them, for our friends and family and those dealing with the diagnosis of a mom or dad, a friend, a brother or sister, or even a child. You'll meet them throughout the course of the ramp-up to this year's event.

I am asking you to join Team Fish or Cut Bait once again. My friend Greg kicked things off in grand style, covering the ENTIRE RACE INSTALLMENT for me. My friend Bob quickly followed suit to get me started off and moving, and for their gifts, I am eternally grateful. If you'd like to join them and be part of Team Fish, we would LOVE to have you with us. I assure you no amount is too small -- all I want is to have you stand with us. It's easy: CLICK HERE to make a donation and become part of the team.

Now, who's with us?

National Stuttering Association Annual Conference: Part II

2010-07-16T20:23:00.003-04:00

The best part of the NSA Conference is the people, and this year my family was very involved with the conference. Mrs. Fish gave a presentation for the third year on how to negotiate the Individualized Education Program to get the best services for your child. There have been a lot of changes and Mrs. Fish offered a lot of help to the parents there.

The highlight for me was the NSA All-Stars presentation. About a month ago, Li'l Fish was asked if she would like to give a 3-5 minute speech to the entire conference on a topic of her choice. She chose to speak about what it's like to be a kid who stutters, how to be an advocate for yourself, and how to stand up to bullies. After her speech, she sat with the other five panelists and answered questions. I have never been prouder.

Li'l Fish's speech:

I have to confess something before I start. When I started thinking about this speech, I really wasn’t sure what to start with or what I wanted to say. I’m just a kid who wants to advocate for myself and others who stutter. My name is [Li'l Fish](I know, it’s a long name to stutter on – it’s not my fault. I didn’t choose it). I am a twelve year-old from Harrisburg, Pennsylvania and I want to talk about being a student who stutters, and how to be an advocate for yourself, especially against bullies.

Speaking in public used to scare me. I didn’t want to stand out from others. Now I know it’s good to stand out. I have been made fun of because I stutter. But, this is a place where I can be myself without worrying about other people’s criticism. People make fun of what they don’t understand. So if enough people understand stuttering, things will become easier for stutterers. Be an advocate: stand up for yourself. It took me a while to figure that out.

All of my friends know that I stutter and they’re okay with it. If people ask me what it is, then I tell them. I try to make as many people as aware as possible. If someone makes fun of me, it doesn’t matter. But, I try to tell them about stuttering, so they at least know what it is. My stuttering makes me special in my own way. And, I’m good just the way I am. Although I am very positive now, I wasn’t always this perky. It was hard for me to make friends when I switched schools this year. It may be hard for many of you to believe, but I was shy. Incredibly shy. People thought I was quiet because I didn’t like speaking, but they didn’t know why. Finally, I got tired of being ignored. It didn’t matter what people thought – I wanted to make friends. I met a girl named Mikala. I called her Kayla because saying the M-I made me stutter too much. After I opened up, we became close, and I started making many other friends. I had a friend who was pretty tall, almost 6 feet. When he heard someone making fun of me, he said he would help. Adjin had a “discussion” with the bully. The next day? No more bullying. I am glad he was there to help, but now I also know how to take care of myself.

I think all stutterers should be able to advocate for themselves without being scared. You are the only you (unless someone commits identity theft then there is two of you). But you shouldn’t let anyone bring you down.

National Stuttering Association Annual Conference: Part I

2010-07-12T20:20:00.004-04:00

This marks the fourth year we have attended the National Stuttering Association's Annual Conference. My daughter started stuttering as soon as she started talking. Pediatricians and other specialists told us to relax, that she would grow out of it. Then they told us to lighten up, we were stressing her out. Then they told us to talk slowly (we're from Philadelphia - it's not happening). In our search for proper answers, we found the National Stuttering Association and it changed our lives, especially Li'l Fish.

This year, the conference was in Cleveland. Yes, Cleveland. I know, I thought the same thing, too. I mean, LeBron couldn't make it fun with $100 million dollars (We were in the city when he made his announcement. I thought they were going to burn the city down, but I think Clevelanders have pretty much resigned themselves to being the ones who get sooooo close they can taste excellence, only too get punched in the gut, doubled over and pounded into the mud. I think they knew LeBron was leaving before he did, because they have learned that disappoint follows Cleveland the way night follows day.) That being said, the city itself was a blast! It was far more fun than I thought it would be, and I was especially struck by the incredible friendliness of the people who live there. The restuarants where we ate were very good as well, with a big cheer for Chinato.

We did the obligatory tour of the Rock 'n Roll Hall of Fame. I was prepared for a Hard Rock Cafe style of outlay and was completely blown away. The early years, showcasing how rock came from the blues and gospel and early country music was fascinating. Other highlights included the history of Austin City Limits; a Bruce Springsteen exhibit featuring his notebooks, interviews on his creative process and the Corvette he bought when he finally hit it big; there was a section on how different regions influenced and were influenced by the artists who played there (Liverpool in the Beatles era, Seattle and grunge, London and New York for punk). There were the costumes of Hendrix, Stevie Nicks, and of course, The King. The Pink Floyd exhibit was awesome as well, and I HIGHLY RECOMMEND the 3-D U2 show...except for the conversations before the show. This really happened:
Guy 1: Oh, this is 3-D?
Guy 2: Yeah.
Guy 1: I didn't know this was going to be 3-D
Guy 2: You mean, "U2 3D" didn't give it away?
Guy 1: What?
Movie, mercifully, begins.

As a history teacher, I always thought of history in terms of conflict, with those eras and epochs determined by shifts in power, by victories and defeats. The Hall opened me to a new idea, that history could be defined and delineated by music. I like a museum that can challenge one's perceoption of how we view something, especially oof how we define ourselves. The Hall did that foor me, and such, is a must-see highlight of Cleveland. Spend a day there.

But the real highlight for me was, of course, the Conference itself.

Droogs: Assemble the Durango

2010-06-28T21:21:00.004-04:00

TEAM FISH is now up to three riders. My brother Pat is in, saying he is going to ride the 70 mile loop. Pat was part of the original Team Fish and has ridden this every year with me. The fact that he is doing the evnt after the recent birth of his twins has me even more stoked than normal. I think we should put them in baskets on the front of our bikes, but somehow I don't see his wife, being the more sensible type, allowing it. Still, though....

Additionally, my buddy Kurt, is in for his third consecutive year. Readers of this blog and followers of the event might recall The Epic Strudel War, between Kurt and I. This year I plan on laying off the strudel...starting tomorrow.

If you want to join us, you can CLICK HERE: we'd love to have you.

Training Ride

2010-06-27T17:58:00.006-04:00

What is it like on a Fish training ride? If you're a rider, I suspect a lot of this is going to sound familiar, in one way, shape or form. If you're not a rider, perhaps this will give you a little insight. Or, at least a frame of reference. Or leave you scratching your head.

Mile 0
I rode out of the driveway and did the loop up to the top of my neighborhood. About 300 yards into the ride, I saw a wasp flying across my path. Wasps and other stinging insects are not typically a concern unless they get stuck in your helmet or behind your glasses. This little guy was zipping along at seat level so I didn't give him a second thought. Until he hit my leg and stung me. HOLY CARP! It hurt so bad I had to pull over and see what had happened. There was a single red spot, and a quickly expanding series of red tendrils, like one of those World War II movies where they show Germany taking over Europe and Hitler's armies are shown in rapidly moving red arrows. Except it was on my leg. I thought some water might cool it down and I looked down and realized I had forgotten my water bottles. This is enough of a problem on a regular day, but it was 95 degrees out, not to mention I had just been dive-bombed by a Stuka-wasp. I turned around to get my water bottles, determined to continue forward. I went home, grabbed my water bottles and left the house for the second time. I still had not reached my first mile.

Mile 3
I have a couple of early-season marks of fitness that enable me to benchmark where I am. Most of them are related to hills, inasmuch as I can see that I am in decent shape if I can reach the top of this hill or that hill without being totally gassed. This circuit has one particular hill early in, and I climbed to the top with relative ease, a good sign for me. The only real difficulty I encountered was the throbbing in my right leg, the wasp-sting now resembling a map of Greenland, or the aforementioned WWII map, Hitler using his Stuka-wasp and now having conquered the entire region.

Mile 8
There is something about riding past a manufacturing plant for making dog food. If you're a pet owner, you know the smell when you first open the bag of food and it kind of jumps up into your face. Yeah. It's a lot like that. Only bigger, and therefor worse.

Mile 11
There is usually a point where the ride goes from uncomfortable to comfortable. Your legs get under you, your body adjusts to the position you're in, and you just start spinning. For me, this happens around mile 10, most often. I'm not sure why it is, but it's been this way for as long as I have been riding distances. This ride was no exception.

Mile 20
One of my favorite parts of riding is going past the Yellow Breeches, a world-famous limestone trout-fishing stream. It's lined by trees that overhang the stream, and also line the road that runs next to the stream. The road itself always has the feel of fresh pavement, clean and smooth, and it's a place where people often sprint on the club rides to showcase their mojo ("I'm Thor Hushovd!" "I'm Mark Cavendish!") and blow a little of the carbon out. Similarly, I used it for a place to raise my body's lactic acid threshold, a measure of how well the muscles move the acid out and away from your muscles. It's this acid that, when it builds up, produces the burn that athletes feel at high levels of exertion. By the end of this stretch, my legs are burning. I settle into a nice recovery spin.

Mile 26

I pulled into the local Sheetz, a convenience store that's good for a bottle of Gatorade and to fill up the water bottles with ice. I usually go to the little shop in Boiling Springs, but once Summer hits, they seem to run out of ice at the soda machine. The temperature was now in the high-90s, so I didn't want to chance missing out on the ice. At the Sheetz, the woman asked me absentmindedly, "How are you?" then realized I was a spandex clad, sweat-soaked, disheveled mess. She literally looked me up with a mix of confusion and horror as I replied, "I've never had a bad day in my life." The ice was a God-send and it cooled me off just in time.

Somewhere between Mile 26 and Mile 54
The truth of the matter is, a good deal of time spent in the saddle is pretty mindless stuff, relatively speaking. So what does one do with all of that time? Some of it is spent watching the road (don't hit that pothole) or the wildlife (hope that squirrel stays over there) or the wildlife on the road (wonder what happened to that Opossum?). I also tend to spend quite a bit of time thinking about people, particularly those in need of prayer. I thought a lot of time thinking about Collin and his family. I thought a lot about Mrs. Fish and the Li'l Fish, who were down visiting my mother-in-law who is in declining health. I also spent time wondering what my friend Bill is up to in Iowa, about cancer, about my fight, and about Team Fish, which is now TWO MEMBERS STRONG! I think a lot about the things for which I am thankful, especially my health and my family.

Mile 54
I cramped. Or, more specifically, my quad cramped, in the exact spot the wasp-sting occurred. I'm not sure the two were connected, and I suspect it was more a function of the heat and humidity. I was halfway up the final hill on the way home and my leg cramped so badly I had to pull over (before I fell over) and stretch it out. I got off my bike and tried to stretch my leg straight, but couldn't, then tried to bend it and couldn't. I laid down on someone's lawn and chugged the last of the Gatorade, hoping the electrolytes and potassium would be enough to stop the cramps. Minutes passed and the cramp subsided. Eventually I was able to stand. "Well, there's only one way home," I thought and hopped back on and pedalled up the remainder of the hill and the rest of the way home.

Mile 57
Cool shower and a big bowl of pasta. Life is sweet. Life is good.

Father's Day

2010-06-20T06:41:00.009-04:00

At 43 (when did THAT happen), I realize I look at my time with my father as more of a series of snapshots than a continuum. Maybe it's part of the natural acceleration of time, Einstein's relativity at work. I remember fishing with my Dad, going to the local lake to cast for pike and bass, but ending up with sunfish, then trying to convince myself they tasted good. They don't, but my father never discouraged me. On this, I wish he had.

I remember when my brother and I were about eight, in a time when kids owned the streets and could actually be outside without checking in every 30 minutes. There was a group of teenage bullies who took my brother and me by surprise while we were riding and grabbed our bikes, then threw them into a stream. They laughed and chased us away. We walked home and told my dad, because if Dad couldn't fix it, the world was broken for sure. He piled us into the family car and we drove over to where the bullies were still sitting. I never saw my father move as fast as when he set upon those kids, nor have I seen that kind of fury. He picked the two of them up and literally threw them into the stream to retrieve the bikes, then made them apologize to my brother and me. We never saw them again.

I remember playing soccer and running track in high school, and though my father worked a lot in those days, there were times when he would just show up, often at away meets. I was an average soccer player at best, but I was something of a standout in track. One day my father showed up for a match against Palmyra, and I had the best run of my life, anchoring the 4x400 and catching a guy who had about an 80 yard head start. I was so proud my father saw that, and though he probably doesn't remember, the fact that he was there is what keeps it with me today.

One day, he took my brother and I to work (this was before the whole Take Your Kids to Work day) I was about 13. He was building the Fort Dix high-tech military simulation center, a place where soldiers could learn the finer points of using the Army's latest weapons in a simulated environment. Think: video game where you actually get to sit in an M-1 Abrams and laser site an enemy tank. One of the simulators was an M-16 firing range, and my dad asked my brother and I if we wanted to shoot it. We're young teens and your asking if we want to shoot an M-16...um...YES!!! He instructed us to keep both our eyes open, showed how to hold the weapon, how to squeeeeze the trigger. My brother was pretty good, then I got on it and hit the target at the farthest range, popping the target with multiple body shots. I was feeling really proud of myself when Dad said it was time to go. My brother and I asked him to ry before we left but he declined. Still, we begged him and whined and he relented and said he would. My brother and I chose the farthest target for him, naturally. I never thought of my dad as athletic or powerful, but he picked up the M-16 with a natural fluidity, shouldered the weapon with the grace of a big cat and squeezed the entire clip, one shot at a time, into the inner circle of the head at the farthest range. Then he placed the weapon at rest and said, "Okay, who wants some ice cream?" The whole affair took less than 4 seconds but I think it took my brother and I another 4 days to pick our jaws up, to reconcile ourselves to the fact that our father, a normally gentle man (bullies notwithstanding) had the capability to be a stone-cold killer.

When Mrs. Fish and I got engaged, my father went out and bought a tennis bracelet to present to her at our engagement dinner. It was one of the most thoughtful things I have ever seen a man do, and for his kindness I am eternally grateful. Being in my family is certainly not easy, but my dad made the effort that eased that transition for Mrs. Fish to become part of the family.

There are a million things my father taught me, showing me how to drive, change a flat tire and change the oil (there was no Jiffy Lube back then); how to bait a hook, catch a fish and gut it; how to season (less is more with good beef) and grill a proper burger; how to mow a lawn and how to maintain the mower; how to shine my shoes...and why it matters (the first thing a woman notices are your shoes); the importance of being on time; how to fix a bike and lube a chain; how to be a Boy Scout and make a Pinewood Derby winner (I still have the trophy, Dad); how to paint a room; and a thousand other things, besides. But most importantly, Dad taught me the importance of being a father myself, to not take it lightly, and also, frankly, to really enjoy being a Dad. Thanks, Dad...for everything.

The Shop...

2010-06-07T20:17:00.004-04:00

I have a local bike shop (LBS in cycling parlance). My LBS is World Cup Ski and Cycle. When I went to buy my first bike, they were the ones who sized me up to make sure the bike fit properly. For those of you who ride, you know how important fit is. For those of you who don't, a good fit is like that baseball glove you owned when you were a kid and used every day to play catch with your buddies. And a bad fit? A bad fit is kind of like this...

So anyway, one of the cool things is that I have been dealing with the same guys (Lee and Dave own the joint). When my first bike got run over in a hit and run, they were the ones who empathized with me, recommending voodoo hexes on the jerk that sent me to the hospital. Then they sold me the Cannondale that is my current steed, which has been a great, great ride.

And, when I walk in, they treat me properly. Better than properly, actually. Last week, I had an unexpected rattle in my bottom bracket, which is where the pedals connect through the frame of the bike. It's a place where rattles should not be. Ever. It's a place that, when there is a rattle, bad things can be happening. So I took the Cannondale over thinking it was going to be bad. Very bad. Like, possibly expensive bad. Which would not sit well with Mrs. Fish, either.

"Where are you going?"
"Over to the bike shop."
Why don't you take Li'l Fish with you?"
This is code for "Why don't you take my spy with you."
I always take her anyway, because Li'l Fish likes Buck, the shop dog.

So anyway, I walk in and Lee is there. He says hello and asks what's going on. I explain about "Unexpected Clunk". He gets his tech guy and they take my bike in. Right away. Five minutes later they wheel it back out, and test ride it. Clunk free. He charges me $5.00 and off I go. That's why I do business with World Cup. Just a bunch of decent guys doing good work. If you're lucky, you have a bike shop like this near you.

Riders Wanted: LiveSTRONG Philadelphia, 2010

2010-05-31T11:12:00.003-04:00

The time is approaching, and once again Team Fish or Cut Bait is going to ride at the LiveSTRONG event in Philadelphia on August 22, 2010 to raise money too fight cancer. I have a bunch of verbal commitments, but now is when the rubber hits the proverbial road. If you're a rider, I would love to have you as part of Team Fish.

You can choose a 20, 45, 70 or 100 mile course. There is a minimum fundraising goal of $250, but that goes incredibly quickly. Every year I have someone who asks me about it and how daunting it seems at first. Most raise it in a matter of days and are off and running after that. Trust me - it's a cinch.

Last year, we had Do'ers profiles, BUTNZ, and a bunch of other fun things going on in connection with the event. Every year we get a little better at this, and I am always open to suggestions. Rest assured this year will be no exception to the fun rule, and my buddy Kurt is already planning his "fun" group ride over the Pyrenees...as long as those sammiches are waiting for us at the bottom of the hill, I am soooooooo in, brother. So, if you're thinking about joining Team Fish, or if you've been simply putting it off until now, let's get crackin'. You can CLICK HERE AND FOLLOW THIS LINK then just click on "Join Our Team" at the top of the page.

Questions, comments, concerns, fears? E-mail me and let's get that out of the way so we can ride and PWN cancer.

Observations From a Yard Sale

2010-05-23T13:13:00.009-04:00

Yard sales are usually about the people. Most of them are interesting, and to hear their stories is often the highlight of my experience. Yesterday's was a ssssllllloooow painful experience for the first two hours, then it picked up as more people came out. It was a very weird yard sale, to be sure.

One of my customers was a young lady in the Tap-Out tee shirt with face tattoos and multiple facial piercings, who came and bought the Happy Family Dollhouse. I was reminded that families come in all shapes and sizes. She was actually a lot of fun to speak with, and I found out she was buying it for her two-year-old daughter.

The clothes. This woman was wearing her lucky yard-sale outfit. Seriously. I don't know what part of the eighties you could possibly consider "lucky" but hey, if it's working for you, run with it. Oh, this does NOT apply to the guy with the Flock of Seagulls hair: that look needs to go.

And an open inquiry for the woman who was gazing at my wares as she cruised past, her two kids screaming in the back of her minivan while she was yakking on her cellie? I think you might want to ask yourself "What could possibly go wrong in this neighborhood filled with kids on bikes and scooters and yard-salers crossing the streets?" Then, hoping you have arrived at any one of the possible correct answers, none of which are good, would you please HANG UP YOUR DAMNED PHONE and pay attention to what you are doing, which is driving in a residential area. KTHXBAI.

Mrs. Fish said the ladies were flirting with me all day (REALLY?!?). I confess a vast amount of ignorance in this area, but I'll take her word for it. If that's the case, I am going to chalk it up to the possibility that men selling jewelry with a pocket full of quarters and having even the remotest interest in yard sales are considered something of a catch on a Saturday morning around here...

Finally, I really liked haggling with the woman and her granddaughter who wanted a book and a ring. The grandmom said her granddaughter lives in the country and "don't have nothin'. Best "sale" I made all day, making a pretense of the hard-driving six-year old and how she was such a tough negotiator that I was forced to practically give it away. Both of them left with the goods, and huge smiles.

Well, This was a Lot of Fun

2010-05-23T13:04:00.000-04:00

I really liked this. Enjoy...

Lace 'em up...

2010-05-18T19:19:00.004-04:00

I laced up my Sauconys and put the orthotic inserts into them. Today my goal was to do intervals, running for two minutes and walking for one minute.

It's weird that, since the injury, I have become incredibly in-tune with my body. I don't usually run with an iPod or other distractions, so it's something that I have always sort of paid attention to, but now it's most decidedly different. I am aware of every tweak (that slight pain in my right ankle, on the outside rolling down under the bone, is still there) and every feeling that is not quite normal. I can feel my Achilles rolling over the bursa sac in the heel, but the inflammation is gone, for the most part. I can also feel the difference the weight and inactivity make. My legs respond more sluggishly, don't swing as freely, nor do they have the bounce that allows them to come up and forward as quickly. The need to push myself hard on my runs is not there, but the desire to do so most certainly is. It would feel good to run fast again, but for now I need to be content with just running. After such a long layoff, I really am.

It was about 65 degrees and there was a light mist falling as I walked out tonight. I had Mango on, with a light tech shirt and it was perfect for the weather. If it was raining any harder, I would have wished for a hat, but as it was, it was just perfect. There have been bunnies on my previous runs, but not tonight. Just a couple of kids outside riding bikes and a couple of folks walking their pooches. I ran the intervals as planned, wiht a 5 minute steady run at the end, followed by a 7 minute cool down.

I can't wait to get out an do it again.

Collin

2010-05-12T22:00:00.002-04:00

"It seems wrong to me that the people we lose give us such strength and encourage us to be better people, if not for us, for them."
---Bill Moore

One of the things about being a cancer survivor is that you meet and are influenced by amazing, incredible people. The shame of it is that, sometimes, you lose them. So it is with Collin, a two-year-old boy that I never met. I never met his family. But, in the best sense of the word, I knew them.

I found an online community for cyclists when I first got started, and found a place where people talk about cycling, but just as often discuss life. It's ups and downs, the trials and tribulations of family and relationships. Phil came on one day and asked us to pray for his family, and especially for his son, who had Acute Myeloid Leukemia. The people of the board rallied, and Collin became a focal point for discussions, for fundraisers to fight childhood cancer, for joining together to beat the disease he and his family were battling so courageously.

Phil gave us updates and we would all anxiously read them, poring over them for signs that Collin was winning. He would get a rash and go back to the hospital and we would groan. Collin's fight had, in many ways, become our fight.

Last year, I dedicated a significant portion of my ride to Collin and his family. There were times when it got tough, and Collin reminded me that it wasn't really tough. There were a couple of times when I wasn't sure I would make it. Collin's courage, his fight, reminded me that I would.

Collin is done fighting. It's not because he quit, because he had no quit in him. And now he is in a better place, a place with no pain, and no fear, and no tubes, and no needles, and no worry. Just an endless supply of love, and the promise that one day we'll get to see him and we'll be able to give him a hug and say thank you for sharing your life with us, even if it was just for one brief, amazing moment.

I miss you, brother, and my prayers are with you and your family.

One Minute Writer

2010-05-10T19:31:00.002-04:00

Found this site that encourages us to take One Minute Writing and make it a daily habit. I have just started writing again, wading oh-so cautiously in and absorbing possibilites. Today's assignment at the site was "Little Things" and this was my contribution:

"I wasn't ready for it. I thought I was, but then she rushed out, all pink and beautiful and screaming and covered in the stuff that kept her alive, sloughing it off to reveal that I was now responsible for that role...and she was so perfect, and so tiny."

Getting Going Again...

2010-04-21T19:04:00.003-04:00

"It'll be just like starting over...starting over..."
---John Lennon

I am FINALLY getting moving again. I was released from physical therapy after two-and-a-half months to the tears of the staff there...tears of joy, I am certain. Nonetheless, I am on my way. There is still pain in the heel, but the therapists felt the healing (heeling?) was going to be more a function of time than PT at this point. As long as I keep the ankle and the heel stretched out and mobile it should continue to improve, if only very slowly.

Yesterday I took a longer bike ride, one that I glossed the Tour de Libraries. Mrs. Fish had overdue videos at one library and I had books to pick up at another, so I hopped on The Cannondale and set out. Several thoughts occurred to me about how different things were as a result of the long layoff. First, and most obviously, I am out of shape (unless round is a shape). It's not surprising. I have a lot of strength built up as a result of the PT, but for longer, sustained, aerobic activity, it's going to be a while to build the stamina.

Second, things feel different from a sensory perspective. This time of year brings a lot of critters out and a great many of these end up as road Frisbees. The unique stench of animal decay was heavy through a couple of the more open spaces, notably around the woods and fields. I was also surprised at how quickly the temperature dropped. As the sun was going down, the Mercury dropped dramatically and I found I was nearing cold. Not that disconcerting cold, but just uncomfortable enough to make me pedal that much harder. I realized that being in the car removes me from these effects, and it's been a long time since I have had to concern myself with them. Next time, an extra layer is in order.

Third, I was surprised at how uncomfortable I felt on the bike. Not so much speaking to physical discomfort, but mentally. I was acutely aware of every vehicle around me, the smells, the speed, how close they were to me (which, ultimately, was not that close at all -- people are pretty respectful of cyclists in this area). I was also a little twitchy in the corners, which was weird, and I found myself not looking ahead far enough on more than one occasion, which added to my unease when I realized it. I am certain the comfort will return with time, but it was just an odd experience.

The highlight had to be on the way home, when this chap on a motorcycle passed me. He stopped at a red light ahead of me. It's one I sit at more than my share, so I am used to the timing pattern. I timed it so the light turned green and the rider got out ahead of me, then I mashed the pedals and passed him on the downhill, hitting about 40 miles per hour. It's not every day you get to pass a motorcycle. Dude was not amused, methinks.

Anyway, it's going to be a long slow recovery process, to be sure. I am comfortable on the bike and not too sore afterwards. Little Fish has offered to run with me as i return to this, so I have that to look forward to as well. One step at a time, one slow, laborious, plodding step...

Thankful...

2010-04-18T11:47:00.003-04:00

For those of you following the story of my buddy Collin, he and his family have GREAT news. He had a fever high enough to prompt his parents to take him to the hospital. Because he was diagnosed with Acute Myeloid Leukemia (AML), this is a serious development.

Well, the doctors got his temperature stabilized and he just came home from the hospital yesterday! Furthermore, this Friday marks Collin's second birthday. Happy birthday, little guy. And many, many more to come.

On the Road Again...

2010-04-07T19:05:00.003-04:00

I have been on the road a lot the last couple of days. I've put 300+ miles on the car in the last two days. Yeesh.

That being said, one of the cooler things happened on my ride home today. I was driving home in the Infiniti (still loving it, by the way) and kind of not paying attention and feeling a bit tired. You know the way the road kind of lulls you a bit when you've been driving a lot? So anyway, I look up and there's a big section of aluminum drain pipe right in the middle of the highway.

My New CAR! OH. MY. OH NOES!! I realize I am going to hit it and it is far too late to react, but react is what I do. I swing the car to the right, toward the safety lane, and BAM! I am in the safety lane. I have swung around the section of pipe like I was on a rail. One second I was in the lane, the next I was in the safe zone, as if there was no transition whatsoever. I was sure I was going to hit it, but that was because I was going on the reaction time of the old Honda.

The car continues to impress me. Apparently, stoners are also impressed, as evidenced by the Jeff-Spicoli-Type-Guy that leaned out of the detention bus when I was picking up my daughter from school. "Duuuuude. That car is sooooooo cool, dude."

So I have that going for me, which is nice....

Manly-Man Weekend....

2010-04-05T20:32:00.005-04:00

It was a quality manly-man weekend, the kind that puts hair on your chest, thkind that would make The Art of Manliness guys proud. I started landscaping the backyard, which is a sprawling giant of a hill. I am in the process of putting in railroad tie steps so we can journey down to stream that runs through our property. It's my hope we can have streamside meals with riparian entertainments this summer. It surprises me how incredibly heavy the railroad ties are. Still, I chainsawed them into usable chunks and set about carving the first setting into the hillside with a pick and shovel. Needless to say, the assorted plants, trees and other detritus that have built up over the course of years has made that task quite challenging. In between the roots and leaves, I uncovered old Ball Mason jar pieces, unspent shotgun shells (plural), a snake and even a gigantic frog (thing scared the carp out of me because I thought it was a hopping alligator at first).

Still, the foundation of gravel was laid, the rock dust smoothed over top of that then tamped down to set it, and the first step was laid out. I was ready to finalize setting it with rebar today when I found the blade I bought to cut the rebar does not fit my mitre saw. I realized this by the St. Vitus Dance it went into when I activated the saw. I'm not the world's greatest tool guy, but that did NOT look right to me, so I stopped, examined it, and found out what it was wrong. And, it was a good thing I did that before losing a limb or an eye. Who knew this project would be so fraught with peril.

In between all of this, as a rest and reward to myself, I put Li'l Fish's bike together and we went cruising around the neighborhood and beyond. On Sunday, we took a spin over to the local Giant, but it was closed for Easter so we ended up going to the only convenience store in America with no Slushy/Slurpee/Squishy machine. Iced tea was the order of the day, and it was awfully good, even though it was only half as cold as a Slushy/Slurpee/Squishy.

Somewhere along the line, I also managed to vacuum out the basement, tune up the lawnmower (new plug, new blade, spring cleaning), sweep out the garage and, today, mow the lawn and hit the weed whacking. Now I have to go grunt some more and manscape my chest....or maybe not.

Want!

2010-03-30T22:23:00.001-04:00

Today I rode my bike for just the second time this year. Tomorrow, I am going to run for the first time since last fall. I'm a little nervous, but mostly just looking forward to being in motion again.

Big Week

2010-03-30T06:34:00.002-04:00

Yesterday, I got on my bicycle for the first time since probably Fall. I say probably because it has been so long, I honestly can't remember the last time I rode. The Physical Therapist greenlighted me to get back on board my bike a week and a half ago and I finally made the time. I would love to tell you about the roads, the traffic, the wind in my hair, the crispness of the day, but it was raining pretty much all day, so I rode on Sunday night...on the trainer. Clearly, this is not the kind of ride I had in mind, but the fact that I was in the saddle, pedaling, was a really good sign. I even had a little leg soreness when I woke up, but nothing debilitating.

The cool thing is that I am going to run/jog/walk some intervals tomorrow. I have missed being in motion for so long, I am beyond happy. The hardest part for me has been listening to the doctors/therapists and taking things slllloooooowwwwllllly. Hopefully I am wise enough (God knows I am old enough) to listen to that advice. Still, it has its frustrations, to be sure.

Fish or Cut Bait Stew

2010-03-28T21:32:00.003-04:00

My church had a Souper Slurpoff Soup cooking competition to raise money for the youth activities and some missions trips they are taking. My contribution was, naturally, Fish or Cut Bait Stew. And, it's still cold enough outside to enjoy it.

2 tbs Olive Oil
1 stalk of celery, finely diced
Half large onion, finely diced
2 Containers of Nature's Promise Organic Chicken Broth (Low Sodium)
16 oz. can of diced plum tomatoes
1/2 stick of pepperoni, cut in half lengthwise, then cut into thin half moons
1/2 cup dry white wine
1 bouquet garni
1 pound cod, pollock, hake or similar whitefish
1 pound shrimp, peeled and deveined
1 can of whole baby clams
Any other fresh fish/seafood you might have lying around
Salt and pepper

Heat soup pot over medium high heat and add olive oil, onion and celery. Stir constantly until transluscent, about 3 minutes. Pour in broth and tomatoes and bring to a simmer, then add white wine and pepperoni. Bring it back to a boil and add the bouquet garni, then turn down heat to a low simmer. Let the flavors mingle (the longer the better).

This is a good time to throw a good, crusty French bread in the oven so it's nice and warm and ready for dunking. Add the fish and seafood to the pot and stir gently until they are cooked all the way through. The fish should break into beautiful chunks, the shrimp will turn pink and your belly will begin to grumble.

You're almost there. Salt and pepper to taste. Note: Do this after the seafood is added and cooked through. Seafood is naturally salty, as is the pepperoni, so it's going to settle into the soup as it cooks.

Ladle the mixture into bowls and serve with the bread.

Barracuda Stew: To give my stew a little bite, sometimes I add a little Cayenne Pepper or Tabasco to the bowl.

Watch This...

2010-03-19T23:40:00.000-04:00

Lorica of Saint Patrick

2010-03-17T11:09:00.000-04:00

I arise today
Through a mighty strength, the invocation of the Trinity,
Through a belief in the Threeness,
Through confession of the Oneness
Of the Creator of creation.

I arise today
Through the strength of Christ's birth and His baptism,
Through the strength of His crucifixion and His burial,
Through the strength of His resurrection and His ascension,
Through the strength of His descent for the judgment of doom.

I arise today
Through the strength of the love of cherubim,
In obedience of angels,
In service of archangels,
In the hope of resurrection to meet with reward,
In the prayers of patriarchs,
In preachings of the apostles,
In faiths of confessors,
In innocence of virgins,
In deeds of righteous men.

I arise today
Through the strength of heaven;
Light of the sun,
Splendor of fire,
Speed of lightning,
Swiftness of the wind,
Depth of the sea,
Stability of the earth,
Firmness of the rock.

I arise today
Through God's strength to pilot me;
God's might to uphold me,
God's wisdom to guide me,
God's eye to look before me,
God's ear to hear me,
God's word to speak for me,
God's hand to guard me,
God's way to lie before me,
God's shield to protect me,
God's hosts to save me
From snares of the devil,
From temptations of vices,
From every one who desires me ill,
Afar and anear,
Alone or in a mulitude.

I summon today all these powers between me and evil,
Against every cruel merciless power that opposes my body and soul,
Against incantations of false prophets,
Against black laws of pagandom,
Against false laws of heretics,
Against craft of idolatry,
Against spells of women and smiths and wizards,
Against every knowledge that corrupts man's body and soul.
Christ shield me today
Against poison, against burning,
Against drowning, against wounding,
So that reward may come to me in abundance.

Christ with me, Christ before me, Christ behind me,
Christ in me, Christ beneath me, Christ above me,
Christ on my right, Christ on my left,
Christ when I lie down, Christ when I sit down,
Christ in the heart of every man who thinks of me,
Christ in the mouth of every man who speaks of me,
Christ in the eye that sees me,
Christ in the ear that hears me.

I arise today
Through a mighty strength, the invocation of the Trinity,
Through a belief in the Threeness,
Through a confession of the Oneness
Of the Creator of creation

St. Patrick (ca. 377)

MEEP!

2010-03-15T19:22:00.001-04:00

According to Li'l Fish, this is the sound all those fool birds are making at 5.00 in the morning around here. I think she may actually have it right.

MEEEEEEEEEP!

Fight Me, I'm Irish!

2010-03-14T20:10:00.003-04:00

In the spirit of my people, I just picked a fight with cancer...AGAIN. I thought if I got an early start this year, more people might be able to join us. So, here is the link to JOIN TEAM FISH OR CUT BAIT. If you can be in Philadelphia in August, we would love to have you ride with us!

This is my fourth year riding the LiveSTRONG Challenge, and what started as me and my brother riding and a handful of people supporting our ride is now nearly 100 people joining me in support of my fight with cancer by riding with us, offering donations, giving their encouragement and doing a hundred behind-the-scenes things. I continue to be touched and humbled by the kindness of your generosity, and my words of thanks pale in comparison to the gratitude I feel for each and every one of you. Thank you for your continued encouragement and support, and for being a part of Team Fish.

Watch This....

2010-03-08T19:50:00.000-05:00

Blindness from Jerod Chambers on Vimeo.

Ankle

2010-02-27T23:29:00.002-05:00

I honestly thought I would be feeling much better than I do. I have been doing Physical Therapy for a month and a half, and while a lot of the pain has subsided, it's still there. I still get up in the morning and have to adjust to the pressure on the Achilles. I can walk normally, and I was fitted with orthotics which seem to have straightened out my gait. But geez....seriously. I would love to think about running again. It just seems soo far off, especially with the two feet of snow on the ground.

Anyway, enough of my whining.

Must Have Been a Monday...

2010-02-22T08:03:00.002-05:00

Not since the classic "Boom Goes the Dynamite" has there been such a wonderful display f ineptitude in the ranks of the sports reporting world...

Gait Analysis

2010-02-10T09:49:00.001-05:00

My friend George encouraged me to post the video of my gait analysis. For you, George:

Physical Therapy

2010-02-09T22:13:00.003-05:00

Therapy has been a long, slow slog. I haven't been getting better as fast as I hoped (it's never that quick) or as well as the doctor had hoped. In fact, I went back to see Dr. Z. this weekend she was surprised I wasn't progressing a little quicker. I explained that they had me move laterally in PT and it proved to be overdoing it, the lateral movement re-inflaming the bursitis. Ice helped, but she wasn't sure there wasn't other things at work, so she ordered an x-ray.

On the x-ray, my Achilles showed to be thicker than average, which may be putting excess stress/pressure on the bursa sac. Also, there is some calcification starting there as well, probably due to being OLD and also a history of athletic endeavor. Swell. She also recommended I continue with PT and also get a gait analysis.

So, off to gait analysis at Drayer Physical Therapy I went. I met with Kris, the PT there who took videos of me walking. The command is to "walk naturally" which is funny because how else would you walk, except that now someone is videotaping you walk, which makes you walk unnaturally because walking naturally is what you do when no one is looking. It's all so complicated. It turns out that I am VERY flatfooted, which is causing a roll inward of my foot to push off properly, and this is putting pretty intense pressure on my Achilles. The Rx is to get orthotics, inserts that will close the gap between my foot and the ground to create a more natural and efficient footstrike. I am just glad he didn't recommend those big, ugly Herman Munster shoes.

Adrift by Steven Callahan

2010-02-05T07:58:00.000-05:00

What would you do if you were sailing the South Atlantic and your boat went down in a storm? Would you be able to keep your wits about you for the time you were able to free your life raft? Board your now sinking boat to grab supplies? How quickly could you act? What would you do when you realized the nearest land, your best chance of survival, was more than two-and-a-half months away.

Adrift: 76 Days Lost at Sea is the true story of Steven Callahan, an experienced sailor and sailboat builder who faces exactly this situation. This book is a classic of seafaring and survival, an epic tale of one man's struggle against the sea, against his mind, against the innumerable obstacles a situation like this presents. It is a story of resourcefulness, courage, resilience, and borderline madness.

Callahan gains many insights into himself on the journey, not the least of which is his relationship with the nature that surrounds him, including the doradoes ("my doggies") who come to torture him by bumping him in his sleep yet sustain him, the harrowing ramming of sharks, and the triggerfish (the butlers) who come along at just the right times to provide another meal. There are storms which threaten to capsize him yet bring much-needed water. A sun which bakes him through but never completely dries anything.

Further, he is constantly tinkering with the raft to keep it afloat, messing with the water still to make sure it keeps producing the meager supply that keeps him (barely) alive. Some of this description gets a little far into the minutiae, and I wish his publisher had read these sections with a more critical eye (to be fair, Callahan also offers drawings of his fixes, which puts them into perspective). However, his ingenuity and resourcefulness are something to behold.

When I was first diagnosed with cancer, I read a lot of books about survival and the courage it takes to face what seem like indomitable odds. There are other books in the survival genre I liked more, but this book certainly belongs alongside those other favorites. Adrift will appeal to sailors and non-sailors alike, transcending its subject matter to talk about the endurance of a man, about our drive to live. Callahan tells his story with such humanity and sometimes humorous insight it's impossible not to laugh. He can then turn it just as quickly as the weather, making you shift in your seat and pull your toes in for safety. Adrift makes for a brisk read, but it will stay with you for a long time.

Overheard....

2010-02-04T05:54:00.002-05:00

So I am at the orthodontist (signing my life savings over to them, bunch of bloodthirsty leeches) with Li'l Fish when this lady starts talking with her friend about how much she hates their family dentist. She's going on and on about it, in a fairly loud voice, then closes with: "And then he's giving me a hard time because [son] his teeth are rotting from the Gatorade he drinks. But, he really LIKES his sports drinks. Stupid Dentist."

Um. Yeah. It's the dentist who's stupid.

Once a Runner by John L. Parker

2010-01-17T14:01:00.006-05:00

Once a Runner is the story of Quenton Cassady, a mile runner in college during the Vietnam War era. It was originally self-published by Parker, and copies were sold out in that initial run. Since then, they have been traded and passed along from one generation of runners to the next, achieving cult status along the way. It was just republished and is gaining, again, the acclaim it deserves as, perhaps, "The best novel ever written about running" as Runner's World called it.

The book reads like a race itself. It is well paced, interspersed with college hijinks, the seriousness of the era, and the back and forth of brothers in sports. It tells of Quenton's chase for a sub-4-minute mile, his obsessive training and the singular focus it takes to achieve one's goals.

To the non-runner, this book might seem arcane, with it's explanantions of training schedules and race strategies. To the runner, it might seem archaic, the brutality of his schedule in light of modern training techniques and things we now understand. Those caveats aside, it's a story worth reading, and I ended up cheering for Quenton just like when I ran track, cheering for his heart and his daring and his courage, for his willingness to accept any standard of greatness other than the one he defined for himself.

Grace...

2010-01-17T13:43:00.005-05:00

I heard something that made me think, today. In church, they were talking about how the world has so much more and that the world is simply better at things than Christianity. If you want music, the world's is better, if you want art or writing, the world's is better. The world is even better at taking care of people and funding projects for people in need...

The only thing that Christians can offer, and do better than what the world can, is grace, the grace that was extended to us by God. We can become, in the words of my friend Vern, a conduit for God's grace. How much better might the world be if we focused on the extension of that grace to other people? How much better might my world be if I did that?

I love this video, Jessye Norman singing at the end of a four-hour rock concert in tribute to the 70th birthday of Nelson Mandela. The crowd of nearly 80,000 people is screaming for more Dire Straits when Jessye comes out. In an interview with Bill Moyers, she said as she sang the song, it was as if the crowd remembered why they were there.

May you have grace in your life, and bring grace to the lives of others...

Ankle...

2010-01-11T20:05:00.003-05:00

I've been struggling with pretty bad ankle pain for several months now. It would occasionally get a bit better, but never went away entirely, and then it would come back worse. Well, I finally manned-up and went to the doctor. That whole thing about men and doctors...I'm not sure what that is. Hobbling to the bathroom in the morning I could barely walk, so it was time.

It turned out to be achilles bursitis, which is an inflammation of the bursa sac at the back of the heel. There is a small sac of fluid that enables the tendon to slide easily over the bone, but it occasionally becomes inflamed in athletes.

So, it's a month of Physical Therapy and treatments and then, hopefully, I will be able to get back to working out. And running. Because i am getting fat and lazy.

A Soldier of the Great War by Mark Helprin

2010-01-07T20:56:00.006-05:00

I spent a lot of time reading this book, often putting it down for extended periods. It's not that it was an excessively difficult book to read, but more that it was so incredibly dense, rich like an Italian chocolate espresso cake with buttercream icing. As such, it was also excessively beautiful, the prose of Helprin's style reading more like poetry than a story.

Alessandro Giuliani is at the end of his life, taking a trolley car to visit relatives in Italy. Through a series of events, he winds up walking with a young man who works at a local propeller manufacturer, recounting his life. He tells of his youth, in the house of his father and mother, who gave him a life of old world love. I love that he is aware, even in his youth, that he is living an idyllic and beautiful life. His family is beautfully drawn, and I am reminded of the best that family has to offer, the warmth and charm of a family painted in detailed brush strokes of golds, greens and earthy tones.

Alessandro goes to school to study aesthetics, which encourages him to see beauty in the things he experiences, the world in which he lives. Shortly after, he enlists in the Italian navy to fight in what are the beginnings of the Great War, World War I. He travels throughout the war, on a sinking ship, on a secret suicide mission, in the hell of prison facing execution, into the high mountains and even to the palaces of royalty. There are dark forces that shadow him and his comrades, and angels that flit hopefully around him, offering both protection and the briefest glimpses of beauty. The ability Alessandro has to see that beauty leaves him, though, as it is torn from his soul, as the idealism of his youth is destroyed, the friends he cherishes are lost, and the family he loves disappears.

In the end, stripped of everything, it is Alessandro's basic humanity, his insistence on continuing to look for beauty, and to see it, that moves me. The book is at once a vast and epic poem, an adventurous tale of a young man, and a love story, told with deft skill by a master storyteller. Read this book.

Don't Be THAT Guy...

2010-01-05T22:41:00.003-05:00

You might remember my advice to turn off your cell phones in meetings. The same holds forth for cellular devices in church, movie theaters and any other place where the squawk of your phone is going to cause heads to turn, brows to knit and fists to clench in that snow-capped knuckle look that is so popular these days.

I really need to add this, though, because someone didn't get the advice. Not exactly, anyway. So here is the necessary follow up to that previous post. Ready? Don't be the guy that forgets to turn off his cell phone at the presentation ESPECIALLY if you're the guy GIVING the presentation.

I didn't think it needed to be said. I was wrong. Don't be THAT guy.

Cool Website...

2010-01-05T19:29:00.003-05:00

I am not even quite sure how I found this website, but it takes a unique perspective on the products it sells by animating them in an integrated way. It's what might happen if the makers of Mouse Trap teamed up with Rube Goldberg to create a European e-commerce site. It takes a while to load the site, but again, I think it's worth it. CLICK HERE to take a look.

I Don't Care Who You Are...

2009-12-27T13:04:00.000-05:00

....this is just plain funny.

Good find by Len.

The Year in Pictures

2009-12-20T20:30:00.005-05:00

Every year, The Boston Globe features a review of the year, based on photographs that defined the year. You can see this year's by CLICKING HERE. Note: It's three separate parts.

This one hit me hard:

I liked this one:

One of the things that I realized this year was just how much strife there is in the world, and how incredibly blessed we are to be so far removed, relatively speaking, from it.

Back At It

2009-12-20T15:20:00.002-05:00

So, I am trying to get back into shape. There are several liabilities, not the least of which seems too be a lingering Achilles tendinitis problem. This getting older thing is absolutely the worst. In a fair world, I am convinced, we'd all be able to go Benjamin Button and take our accumulated wisdom into our youthful, vigorous years. Youth is wasted on the young, they say.

By way of inspiration, I watched this video (I missed the 2009 version, so I'll look forward to Hulu getting that one up, too)...

TWINS!

2009-12-13T20:45:00.002-05:00

My brother and his wife are having TWINS! I am so stoked for them...and, I get to be "The Fun Uncle" now...

Thanksgiving: Two Perspectives

2009-11-25T09:20:00.000-05:00

This year has been a rough-and-tumble one for the country, the region and for a lot of us. I wanted to take a moment to make sure I wished you and your family a very Happy Thanksgiving. I am reminded equally of two great Americans with distinctly insightful looks at this uniquely American holiday.

Theodore Roosevelt offered a humbling reminder to show our gratitude, not just say it, when he said, "Let us remember that, as much has been given us, much will be expected from us, and that true homage comes from the heart as well as from the lips, and shows itself in deeds."

Of equal importance was the observation of Kevin James, who put it perhaps more succinctly when he said, "Thanksgiving, man; Not a good day to be my pants."

Whether you're focused on gathering close to friends and family or simply getting some prime turkey, I hope you and yours have a safe and wonderful Thanksgiving. And, thank you.

So Cool....

2009-11-21T23:09:00.003-05:00

Liu Bolin is the invisible man. He's an artsit who paints himself to become invisible. To wit:

You can find even more by CLICKING HERE. There are some amazing examples...

Amazing Story...

2009-11-16T20:29:00.002-05:00

In 1986, Mkele Mbembe was on holiday in Kenya after graduating from Northwestern University. On a hike through the bush, he came across a young bull elephant standing with one leg raised in the air. The elephant seemed distressed, so Mbembe approached it very carefully.

He got down on one knee and inspected the elephant's foot and found a large piece of wood deeply embedded in it. As carefully and as gently as he could, Mbembe worked the wood out with his hunting knife, after which the elephant gingerly put down its foot. The elephant turned to face the man, and with a rather curious look on its face, stared at him for several tense moments.

Mbembe stood frozen, thinking of nothing else but being trampled. Eventually the elephant trumpeted loudly, turned, and walked away. Mbembe never forgot that elephant or the events of that day.

Twenty years later, Mbembe was walking through the Chicago Zoo with his teenaged son. As they approached the elephant enclosure, one of the creatures turned and walked over to near where Mbembe and his son Tapu were standing. The large bull elephant stared at Mbembe, lifted its front foot off the ground, then put it down. The elephant did that several times then trumpeted loudly, all the while staring at the man.

Remembering the encounter in 1986, Mbembe couldn't help wondering if this was the same elephant. Mbembe summoned up his courage, climbed over the railing and made his way into the enclosure. He walked right up to the elephant and stared back in wonder. The elephant trumpeted again, wrapped its trunk around one of Mbembe' s legs and slammed him against the railing, killing him instantly.

Probably wasn't the same elephant.

Car Buying by the Numbers...

2009-11-16T19:55:00.005-05:00

11-07-96 - Purchase date my Honda Acccord. Since then...

4 - Doors on the car, which put a small dent in my soul, at the time
5 - Speed manual transmission, it's saving grace at the time..and it's black
0 - Accidents, large or small
0 - Major mechanical malfunctions
0 - Tickets (lucky, I am sure)
1 - Little Fish who came home from the hospital as a newborn
1 - Parades the car has been in (I inadvertantly turned onto a parade route and was quickly escorted off...still, it counts)
2 - Clutches
3 - Homes in which I have lived
5 - Jobs
8 - Pets (doesn't include fish)
13 - States visited
63 - Approximate number of oil changes
252,132 - Miles driven (picture taken as I turned it over a quarter of a million)

10 - Number of times that would be driving around the entire Earth (over the poles)
11-07-09 Date of sale, 13 years to the day

1 - week I have owned The Replacement, a 2006 Infiniti G35 Coupe. Some big, durable shoes it needs to fill, but we're off to a good start...

Bike for Collin

2009-11-14T08:37:00.004-05:00

Know anyone that needs a 54cm road bike. You're not going to find a better buy that THIS ONE. You might remember Collin, who was a big part oof the inspiration for this year's team Fish LiveSTRONG ride. He continues to fight cancer and the fine folks of Teh Lounje at RoadBike Review built a bike and are auctioning it off as a fundraiser. Click above to see the auction. Go Collin!

Veteran's Day

2009-11-14T07:04:00.004-05:00

I make a point to touch base This from my friend Eric, who is currently serving in the Air Force, every year at this time. This was his reply:

...today I had the good fortune to meet some real heroes.

I spoke at a small town Veterans Day celebration today in St Peters, MO. I was amazed at the hundreds of vets whose hands I shook. They had served from World War 2 to the present. The one vet that was most unforgettable was an elderly gentleman that was tottering away from the event at the end; he was by himself and I just wanted to make sure I shook his hand and said thank you and good-bye.

When I walked over to him to tell him goodbye, he slowly looked up at me (he couldn’t have been much over 5 feet tall), deliberately eyed my rack of ribbons and then said: “I bet I’ve got one you don’t.” I smiled, laughed, and said “I’m sure you do”. Then I took a guess. “Is it from the Korean War?”—although he clearly looked old enough to have served in WW2, I didn’t want to insult him by over-estimating his age. He answered by taking a trembling hand and slowly reaching inside his jacket and into his shirt pocket. Then, he haltingly pulled out two ribbons I had never seen in my life. I took one and turned it over in my hand so I could read its front. I nearly hit the floor when I realized it was for landing on Omaha Beach during Operation Overlord. At first I was struck dumb. Then all I could think to do was say how honored I was to speak with him and simply say “thank you” to this living legend—a man who had survived D-Day.

Not knowing how to speak intelligently to a man that had already awed me so much, I simply said “it must have taken tremendous courage to step off that landing craft and into bad-guy country”. He looked at me and deadpanned, “I didn’t have much choice, the people in the back were pushing.” (It wasn’t until later that I thought, why were the guys in back pushing? If I was in back I’d be saying “no hurry, you guys take your time up there; I’m fine back here).

He then went on to say:

I wasn’t one of the first ones in, so we’d heard some chatter on the radio about how bad it was. We’d heard people were getting mowed down and some were even drowning as soon as they stepped off their landing craft. I’ve never liked water, so I was more worried about drowning than anything else. I was really pretty scared of drowning. As it turned out, that wasn’t a problem, when the front of our landing craft came down the bodies were piled so deep I was able to walk on them all the way to the beach.

In my lifetime, I have had a number of heroes. This man, stooped, trembling, and moving slowly, now towers above them all.

Join me in thanking this giant by taking full advantage of all the rights that he and other veterans have defended. Vote in every election; write letters to the editor of your local paper; volunteer your time for a worthy cause; fulfill your jury duty; be a volunteer fire fighter; mentor a child; represent your country well while abroad; live your life, and be a good American. By doing all these things, veterans will be proud to know their sacrifices were not in vain. This is the thanks Americans can give. Live your lives well, as productive citizens should.

Quoted with permission.

All Saints Day -- Reflections and Meditations

2009-11-01T20:40:00.002-05:00

I went for a hike to the top of a local mountain with my daughter and our dog today. It's All Saint's Day, the day we remember the departed saints who have gone before us into eternal rest. I had a great time getting up to the top, hiking and talking with my daughter in our easy, casual style.

Church was good, and I spent time in prayer and thought for a departed friend who lost her fight with cancer this year. I miss you, Terri.

I also got out for a bike ride, my first in almost two months. Again, I spent a lot of time thinking about friends who have passed into their rest. I had someone ask me about the meditative nature of my workouts, and this is an example. My mind focuses on the things that I don't get to think about in the hectic nature of my general week.

I also spent time this weekend in discussion about how we, as men, have a tendency to hang on to our sins, our garbage. We believe they offer more than the incredible power of our Lord. Of course, it's a lie, but we like to hang onto that garbage. I was reminded of this scene from The Mission. To set it up, DeNiro has been persecuting the Guarani, a tribe of local natives, enslaving them. He meets Jeremy Irons, a priest, and his heart begins to soften, but he recognizes he needs to do penance...he needs to hang on to his "stuff", in this case the armor and weapons that are a symbol of his old self, a little longer. Watch this, and recognize the freedom God offers us in forgiveness, and let's let go of our stuff"....

Tests are Back

2009-10-31T04:58:00.001-04:00

And according to the doctor, I am "normal". I never would have guessed it, but if the doctor says I'm normal, then it must be true.

Thanks for the kind thoughts and prayers, all.

"I am the CEO of My Own Life"

2009-10-29T21:03:00.002-04:00

I thought this was a cool article on personal responsibility, written by Steven. While he comes at it from the perspective of a person who stutters, I feel we can apply it from the vantage point of our own lives, whatever that place may be.

Thanks, Steven. I am the CEO of my own life.

Testing...Testing...

2009-10-29T20:55:00.003-04:00

Time once agin for the annual CT scan, blood work and all that. Everything went normally, for those of you keeping score at home. Results will be out soon...

I Need More Cowfields!

2009-10-13T21:44:00.000-04:00

Further proof we nee more cyclocross in our lives...

World's Greatest Athlete?

2009-10-11T08:59:00.004-04:00

It's one of those things that people sometimes debate simply to prove their point. Who is the world's greatest athlete today? There are those who would argue Tiger Woods, and I think it's a start. Roger Federer certainly comes to mind as well.

All that being said, I think we are in the midst of a performance by the world's greatest athlete, and most people don't even know who it is. In fact, 99% of America could sit right next to this person at a cafe and have no idea they are in the presence of an extraordinary talent who is redefining what is possible in their sport, as well as with the human body.

Chrissie Wellington burst onto the Ironman scene three years ago, coming out of nowhere to obliterate the field at Ironman Kona. That's the triathlon world's version of the Superbowl. Think 2.4 mile swim. Then a 112 mile bike ride. Then follow that up with a full marathon, another 26.2 miles. All of this occurs in 100+ degree heat and winds that have knocked bicycle riders over. Wellington won last year too, even though people knew her and what she was capable of. Her second victory came in spite of a flat tire on the bike (Rebekah Keal, in a display of sportsmanship that defines Ironman, gave Chrissie her extra CO2 canister so Wellington could get back in the race).

So you had to figure this year everyone was gunning for her. They were. The problem was, no one could catch her. She swam and biked her heart out. At one point, she was in 11th place. Not 11th woman. 11th person. To put that in perspective, these are the best of the best in triathlon today. If it were the NFL, she would be a starter. With the men. She got off and ran 26.2 miles through that 100+ degree heat and never stopped smiling. As she approached the finish line, she high-fived volunteers along the course. And she never stopped...wait, was she smiling? Why, yes, she was. She was smiling at everyone, because she knew just how special her performance was.

She set a course record. She beat the next nearest woman by 20 minutes, an eternity in Ironman terms. And, after she rolled across the finish line in a salute to Jon Blais, an Ironman finisher who passed away from ALS but forever left his mark upon the race, she left the finisher's area, took a shower, then returned to pass out finisher's medals and sign autographs for hours, revelling in the spirit of just what it means to be an Ironman Champion. Mahalo, Chrissie.

Uh Oh...

2009-10-11T08:41:00.002-04:00

I mentioned a while back that I might need to buy a mountain bike. It looks like I might need a cyclocross bike too. Tell me this doesn't look like fun (courtesy of KRAM, who rode LiveSTRONG with me)...

Don't mind the music, though. I personally would have gone with Yakkety-Sax with this video.

Amazing Melons!

2009-10-08T20:29:00.003-04:00

These are just amazing. LINK HERE.