Do'ers Profile: Karen "Madkat" Price

I have known Karen through the wonders of the Intarwebz for a little over a year now, a fellow Cup of Joe denizen from Beginner Triathlete. We actually started an e-mail exchange from last year's Team Fish excursion into the LiveSTRONG Challenge. Karen's friends and family have a long history of dealing with cancer and we spent a lot of time talking about that. She even brought another friend in to support Team Fish in honor of her husband. HUGE THANKS thanks for being part of Team Fish, and to you and your family for fighting the good fight.

Home: Santa Rosa, CA
Age: 39 - old enough to know better, but still young enough to get away with it
Profession: Facebook Farmer and part-time Production Manager - like a cross between a cat-herder and a sweeper in the sport of curling.
Hobby: acting as human cat furniture, playing dumb, and rockin' the house
Last Book Read: The Random House Rhyming Dictionary, 4th Edition
Last Accomplishment: I came up with a pretty good pun the other day. When walking along the trail with some friends, we saw some dog droppings. When we came by it again on our way back, I mention that I thought I'd see it before, and was having a strong sense of DejaPoo.
Quote: "I'm so into you, But I'm way too smart for you. Even my henchmen think I'm crazy. I'm not surprised that you agree. If you could find some way to be A little bit less afraid of me, You'd see the voices that control me from inside my head Say I shouldn't kill you yet."
Profile: A failed perfectionist, an optimistic realist, and the nicest you'll ever meet.
Why You Support Team Fish: Because Rob promised he would clean my gutters.

If you want me to clean your gutters, CLICK HERE to join Team Fish!

Do'ers Profile: Nick "Ninjabookey" Bromberg

Nick Bromberg is about as crazy a cat as you will ever know...I hope things work out with him and Danica. I've spent a lot of time thinking about Nick this year, and about how blessed we are to have our health. One can go through an entire lifetime and take health for granted, or we can brush our mortality from time to time and realize how wonderfully and fearfully we are made. I'm glad to know you, Ninja.

Home: A Place With A NASCAR Track
Age: Just started my 25th trip around the sun. My life is over as I know it.
Profession: I write stuff, I read stuff, but mostly I dream about stuff
Hobby: Things that start with the letter "s"
Last Book Read: Among the Thugs. The one lasting image from this book I probably shouldn't share, but if you read the book, you'll know it when you read it.
Last Accomplishment: Seven straight strikes on Wii Bowling. Twice. In two days.
Quote: "He's used to driving her down in there and cocking her sideways."
Profile: Wanna cyber? A/S/L please.
Why You Support Team Fish: How can anyone pass up a supporting role in One Nut to Live?

Wanna be like a Ninja? CLICK HERE to support Team Fish.

Do'ers Profile: Tom "Matchy" Matchinsky

Matchy is one of those 21st Century fathers who is taking full advantage of the new role of father's, allowing us to be uber-involved in the lives of our children. Matchy is one of the good guys who balances career, family and a boatload of other interests, Upon reflection, I do seem to know a lot of these types of people, don't I?

Home: Edina, MN - a suburb of Minneapolis. Stands for Every Day I Need Attention. Which makes me fit right in on Team Fish.
Age: 33
Profession: Insurance consultant by day, singer by night (and weekend and holiday and whenever it fits)
Hobby: Semi-professional singer
Last Book Read: "The Year of Living Biblically" by AJ Jacobs. It's a non-fiction story of an agnostic man with Jewish heritage who endeavors to live by the rule of the Bible for a year. Very interesting and often funny read. And further proof that people are just plain WEIRD.
Last Accomplishment: God, I hope its not my last but I think becoming a dad has been awfully cool. My son, Luke, is now 19 months old and is turning into an awesome little guy.
Quote: "I drank what?" - Socrates
Profile: If I were a child, I'd be described as "always getting into things". I love to try new stuff. I love adventure. I love to learn new things. But only if they're interesting things. I may come off as a know-it-all on occasion but that's just my way of telling you you're totally wrong. I will always love with my whole heart and not worry about the eventual pain it causes me. I'm curious, like a cat. That's why my friends call me "Freckles". I'd much rather be the top scientist in my field than have Mad Cow. I know the moon is not made of green cheese but if it were made of BBQ spareribs, I'd definitely take a bite.
Why You Support Team Fish: Because Rob is the epitome of putting your money where your mouth is - he's taking this disease on head-on. And because I've lost too many friends and relatives to cancer to count. And because my mom is currently winning her battle against this wicked disease.

Bonus pixxor of Mama Matchy and L'il Matchy. I love this picture -- thanks Tom!

Want to help people spend more time with their loved ones instead of in chemo? CLICK HERE!

Do'ers Profile: Eric Martin

The second in the Colorado contingent...who knew? I have known Eric for many years and seen him enter triathlons (he's competed at the half-Ironman level: FREAK!), road races, and marriage, all with amazing success. His drive and his wit make him a force to be reckoned with, but mostly I admire his eclectic interests. He's talking about moving east, but everything I have read about Colorado makes me wonder if he's lost his marbles. He's on Team Fish, so probably. It's a prerequisite.


Home: Lafayette, CO
Age: 27
Profession: Auditor
Hobby: Triathlon, Cooking, Mountain Biking, Hanging out with my wife
Last Book Read: Paleo Diet for Athletes
Quote: "Start slow, pull back, and fade."
Profile: I like going fast.
Why You Support Team Fish: I find Fish an inspiration in the way he attacks life with such vigor and positivity. Plus, cancer sucks.


Thanks for being part of Team Fish, Brother! Want to join him -- CLICK HERE!

Kurt BUTNZ! Johnson

BUTNZ! Where would Team Fish be without BUTNZ? Three years ago when I got this harebrained idea to start a Team Fish to ride against cancer, this guy contacted me from Roadbike Review. He said he wished he could ride with me, but he is in Colorado so that was out. But, he makes BUTNZ and people love them and I could use them to commemorate the event. I could give them out to donors. I could give them out to riders on the Challenge. I could pass them to volunteers as a thank you. So Kurt made up a boatload of BUTNZ and sent them to me. For free. Because that's the kind of guy he is. I was blown away by his generosity, but also by the intense professionalism he brought to the effort, then and now. If you're looking for something cool to commemorate a special event, I can't recommend BUTNZ and Kurt's work enough. The proof is in the smiles of every person who gets one. Here he is on a ride with the Mrs. at an altitude that would probably kill you and me. And, they're smiling.
Home: As little as possible. Usually out riding in the summer or skiing in the winter with my wife and daughter. If not that, I'm probably at work, possibly working
Age: AARP is warming up the presses.
Profession: Butnz maker extraordinaire (along with being a corporate grunt)
Hobby: Riding, skiing and being a father and husband.
Last Book Read: Lily's Pesky Plant - hey, I have a kid.
Last Accomplishment: Eating lunch without getting any on my shirt.
Profile: A little chubby from the side
Why You Support Team Fish or Cut Bait: He's one of the nicest guys I've never met.

Join Kurt on Team Fish (and get a BUTNZ!) by CLICKING HERE!

Do'ers Profile: Brad "Q" and Yvonne Smith

Brad and I have been friends for many years. Occasionally you get the opportunity to meet someone you've "met" on the intarwebz with the relative assurance that you won't end up being transported across the border in the trunk of a car to some third-world country. So it was with Brad, whom I met at a JP Fitness event several years ago after conversing through the net. Brad is committed to his family and to a healthy lifestyle and a lifelong love of learning. I liked him immediately and we have conversed regularly since then. The picture to the right is of Brad and his lovely bride Yvonne as they recently renewed their vows in front of their children. Yvonne has been battling cancer and just finished a second round of chemo. I know a lot of you who read this blog are in the habit of serious prayer, so remembering her would be very much apppreciated.

Home: San Marcos, Texas
Age: 55
Profession: University Landscape Guy and Horticulture Instructor
Hobby: Swimming, plant stuff
Last Book Read: I tend to jump around a lot in reference books but I'm reading The Talent Code now.
Last Accomplishment: Swam 1.5 miles two days ago and am looking at open water swims
Why You Support Team Fish or Cut Bait: FISH is DA MAN!... and to KICK CANCER'S ASS!

Here's some Beta Vulgaris to help with your mission:


Want to join Team Fish? CLICK HERE!

Do'ers Profile: SnapDragen!

I have never met Janet "SnapDragen" Lemon. In a fair world, someday I will. You see, Janet and I were first introduced through the miracle of the Intarwebz, through RoadBike Review, a site I visit to yuck it up with like-minded cyclists. Snap is funny, self-deprecating in a healthy way, exhibits a general joie de vivre that makes those around her better and shares my affinity for seven-legged spiders. I think she may have also been the very first person to join Team Fish or Cut Bait when we started all of this madness three years ago. Thanks Janet: you're a gem...and a Princess!


Home: Northern California
Age: Not quite dead yet...
Profession: Management Systems Analyst, but I want to be a Princess.
Hobby: Evidently it has become having surgery......I like bikes and making jewelry too.
Last Book Read: Three Bags Full by Leonie Swann
Last Accomplishment: Survived Cooper’s party
Quote: "I am quite certain that given a cape and a nice tiara I could save the world."
Why You Support Team Fish or Cut Bait: Because cancer sucks, and I don’t want to lose any more friends.

Here's your tiara, Snaps. You earned it.


Want to join SnapDragen on Team Fish? CLICK HERE.

LiveSTRONG Tuneup

My buddy Kurt decided that what we really needed in preparation for LiveSTRONG this year was a proper tuneup. I should have known what I was in for when he sent me a map of the ride. It had a two-mile climb to the top of a mountain near Ickesburg. "How bad can it be," I thought.


We met at Lowe's restaurant, a local landmark in Liverpool, Perry County in rural PA. I was greeted by Kurt's always smiling and enthusiastic face, and his buddy Andy, who decided to join us, in spite of knowing Kurt for years and years. Surely, he must know how these things end, but there he was, nonetheless. "How bad can it be," I thought. "Even Andy's here." Kurt's father was there to offer his support as well, and promised to have lunch on the other side of the mountain.

Then we clipped in and started pedaling. The first ten miles are always about getting your legs under you and figuring out where you are in the scheme of things. I could feel some deep-down muscle soreness but nothing to worry about. I was also a little stiff in the lower back but that worked out pretty quickly. The first twenty miles we rolled over the hills, some of them sizable but mostly what qualify as "rollers" in the parlance of local cyclists. I was feeling pretty good, all-in-all.

"OW! What the????" I felt a sharp sting on my stomach. I thought maybe it was just a bug so I swatted it. I rode for another three minutes.
"OW!!!! Holy #&%$! What the?" I swatted again. Nothing.
Okay. I'm okay but that was quite unpleasan....
"Ouchy-wouchy-WHAT-THE-%$&$KY!!!!!!" I pulled over and smacked my jersey and pulled it up to shake out a yellow jacket. Clearly the kind that stings more than once because I had 4 stinger marks where he took umbrage with me interrupting his flight path with my cycling jersey. That really kind of hurt.


On we pedaled to Ickesburg. As we were riding along next to the fields Kurt kindly pointed out the growing mountain on our right (you can see them on the left in the picture above). Behold: The Apps. We pulled into Ickesburg and stopped at a local store. Kurt declared that "Gatorade is on me!" which is a good thing because I realized that when I shook the bee out of my jersey, I also shook the $20 bill I had in my pocket into the street. Perfect.

Pedaling out of the store, we passed a bunch of guys stocking up at the local beer distributor down the street. We hailed them and one kindly gentleman held out a cold brew in Tour-de-France perfection. Kurt said, "It looks good, but can you meet us at the top of the mountain?" They looked at us like we were crazy. I suspect they knew more than I did.

Still, Kurt, Andy and I felt good, strong. We pedaled forward and Andy and Kurt rode on ahead of me. I knew it was going to be a long slow grind, so I was in no hurry. I felt my heartrate surge and my breathing got heavier as I rose up the mountain. Kurt and Andy rode on out of sight. I was in my own zone of hurt and effort, and it was not a bad place to be. I thought about my friend Terri, who went down swinging this year against a cancer that was just too big for her to fight. I thought about Collin, a young boy who is fighting for his life right now against Leukemia. I thought a lot about people I know who have survived cancer and those who have not. Too many to count, or name, it seems. Their names are written in my heart, and in the hearts of Team Fish, though. I pedalled on.

I saw Andy on the side of the road ahead of me. He was resting, trying to get his heart rate down. I knew where he was. I rode on and Andy hopped back on and we soldiered on up the mountain. We both hurt. I could feel myself nearing the top. I was barely pedalling, mixing between standing and spinning in the lowest gear I had. I could feel Andy pushing me, willing us both forward.

And then, my bike just stopped. I tried to will myself forward, but my body would not respond. I had not one more turn in my legs, but my mind was screaming to go on. I clipped out just before I fell over, and my leg just barely had the strength to hold me up, quivering as I got off to the side of the road. Andy stopped with me while my strength slowly returned. I got to a point where I was sure I could pedal up the rest of the mountain.

Andy and I hopped on. We rose together and found that I was stopped about 200 yards from the top. It was bitter for me. Of course, Kurt had ridden to the top and now came riding back to check on Andy and me.
"How are you doing, buddy," he asked with a smile.
"I hate you."

If the ride up the mountain was a plodding nightmare, the ride down was a rocket flight at 50 miles per hour. It took us about 20 minutes to ride up the mountain. We took about two minutes to get down. The only part that was a little unnerving is that hairpin turn about one-third of the way down.


Lunch with Kurt's father, step-mom and kids was a treat to behold. The chicken salad with walnuts and celery on whole-wheat rolls, watermelon, salt-laden potato chips, whoopie pies and ice-cold drinks were appropriate fare for our NOM NOM NOM fest. Kurt's father said a blessing over the meal and the riders, which meant a lot to me, and then we commenced to eating to offset everything we had just ridden off. ZOMG! I was brilliant!

But, as with all things, this came to an end and we got back on our bikes. The heat was rising and we were hurting a bit going into the last 20 miles. The heat was hitting my stomach pretty hard and I was not digging the Gatorade. Andy was, I think, in even worse shape and had a hard time with the Gatorade, so he was nursing his lone bottle of water. Nursing is not what you want to do in that kind of heat and humidity. Still, he just kept his head down and pedalled. We saw a lone tree in the middle of a long stretch and decided to stop under it for a spell to get out of the sun.

We pulled under and stretched out a bit. I sat down in true cycling fashion: never stand when you can sit; never sit when you can lay down. Then Kurt said, "Look at that. Is that what i think it is?" I followed his gaze and knew immediately it was what he was hoping. Blackberries. They were small, and a little tart, but very juicy. Bloody brilliant!

We hopped back on and finished the last of the ride. It wasn't always easy, but I would ride with Kurt and Andy anytime. Strong riders with solid constitutions and a good idea of what Team means. I appreciate their spirit and their focus on the task at hand. There are people you ride with who just get on the same page quickly, and these men both fit that bill. Thanks so much, for everything you did to put this together.

And next year: I am going to roll over that mountain.

Behold: Teh Butnz!

They came!!! Every year, my friend Kurt puts together BUTNZ for Team Fish. It's one of the highlights for the event, and the smiles of riders, volunteers and people who have joined Team Fish stay with us long after the ent is over. Here is this year's AWESOME design.

Also, if you have any kind of event, I'd encourage you to use Kurt and his BUTNZ--he's quick, professional, and his designs are totally cool.

Everyone who JOINS Team Fish gets one, as always.

Happy Cancer-versary

Three years ago, I was diagnosed with cancer. Today I am still alive, a testament to strong friends and family, good doctors and advances in medicine, and the healing power of God. Thank you for all of your support, then and now.

Let the Challenge Begin!

So here it is, 10 days until the LiveSTRONG Challenge, and the real challenge is officially out there. I stated earlier that this year's Team Fish or Cut Bait Challenge was more about the people than the dollars. Therefore, the first Challenge will be about people.

Last year, Team Fish took 52 people with us to Philadelpia. Right now, we stand at 14 people. At 26 Team Fish members, I will once again depilitate the Wookie, which, in layperson's terms, means I'll shave my legs. At 53 people, I up it and shave the head. This year, I will go all the way down to zero clippers. I've seen zero clippers on my boss' head. Zero clippers are tight. But, I'll do it, complete with pictures, if we get Team Fish to 53 people.

So, what do you say? Do you have it in you, Team Fish? If you do, CLICK HERE and join us.

And, a HUGE thanks to those of you who have already signed on too Team Fish--We are so proud to be riding with you!

And Now for Something Completely Different

Carl Spackler: So I jump ship in Hong Kong and I make my way over to Tibet, and I get on as a looper at a course over in the Himalayas.
Angie D'Annunzio: A looper?
Carl Spackler: A looper, you know, a caddy, a looper, a jock. So, I tell them I'm a pro jock, and who do you think they give me? The Dalai Lama, himself. Twelfth son of the Lama. The flowing robes, the grace, bald... striking. So, I'm on the first tee with him. I give him the driver. He hauls off and whacks one - big hitter, the Lama - long, into a ten-thousand foot crevasse, right at the base of this glacier. Do you know what the Lama says? Gunga galunga... gunga, gunga-lagunga. So we finish the eighteenth and he's gonna stiff me. And I say, "Hey, Lama, hey, how about a little something, you know, for the effort, you know." And he says, "Oh, uh, there won't be any money, but when you die, on your deathbed, you will receive total consciousness." So I got that goin' for me, which is nice.

It's official. I hate the game, and I am going back to triathlons when this season is over. There. I said it.

Carl Spackler: In the immortal words of Jean Paul Sartre, 'Au revoir, gopher'.

Now I'm done.

Do'ers Profile: Mark "Kram" Wanco

I met Mark online through the RoadBike Review site. Since then, I have had the pleasure of riding with him through the hills of Central PA, trying to keep up with his recovery rides. I have come to know and respect him as a dedicated cyclist (he's threatening to give Lance a run for his moolah this year) and an even more passionate family man. This is Mark's first LiveSTRONG ride and we're lucky to have his experience on Team Fish.

Home: Wherever I happen to have my favorite things in the world: My 2 girls, my 3 doggies, and my wife, so it can be anywhere.
Age: Too old to remember
Profession: Blood examiner tester dood
Last Book Read: Steven Colbert's I Am America (And So Can You!)
Last accomplishment: Not to finish DFL in my last Master's race.
Quote: "Looking for the next best thing" Warren Zevon
Profile: Over the hill guy who decided at a ridiculously late stage in life to become a bike racer.
Why I Ride for Livestrong: For my dad, who didn't get to see me pursue this sillyness.

Do'ers Profile: Kurt "FishMagic" Enck

Meet the people who make up Team Fish or Cut Bait for this year's LiveSTRONG ride. I met Kurt "FishMagic" Enck through his wife, a friend of mine from work. He also did the Got The Nerve Triathlon with me a couple of years ago. This will be his second LiveSTRONG Campaign. I am proud to have Kurt on Team Fish, and to count him as a friend.

Home: On the road; on the back of Kristine (my bike)
Age: Just south of a mid-life crisis
Profession: Knowledge transference
Hobby: Creating jewelry from living crustaceans
Last Book Read: Where the Wild Things Are (unfortunately some of the pages were missing, did that poor boy ever get home?)
Last Accomplishment: Filling out this form in a somewhat timely manner
Quote: I told my wife that a husband is like a fine wine; he gets better with age. The next day, she locked me in the cellar.
Profile: A real tool box, but otherwise an all-around good guy
Why You Ride LiveSTRONG: For glory, kith and kin

"Don't Say She Lost"

I read Fat Cyclist, a blog about a big guy using cycling to lose weight. His wife, Susan fought cancer right up to the end. She went down swinging this week. My thoughts and prayers go out to Elden and his family.

I wanted to give a HUGE thanks for the friends and family members who have already joined Team Fish. I am so proud to have you with us! I thought it would be worth mentioning that each Team Fish supporter gets a shiny new BUTNZ again this year, with a huge thanks to my friend Kurt who puts them together! Seriously: if you ever have en event and you want to add a little zip to it, get BUTNZ! They rock!

As you can see, previous BUTNZ have been epic. I have assurances that this year will be no exception....
2007


2008


2009

Little Fish

Mrs. Fish and I have always tried to give our 11 year-old daughter wide-ranging experience, especially when it comes to music. So, I walked into Little Fish's room last night and she's listening to some jazz that presumably I put on her iPod.
"What are you listening to," I asked.
"Jazz"
"I can hear that. But, it's not Miles Davis" I had loaded some Miles on for her.
"No. It's Charlie Parker. He's my favorite."

She was listening to Now's the Time:



My kid is listening to "Bird"...she's so awesome. Here's another one for you, Little Fish:

Lions and Tigers and Behrs Ride

I got a chance to ride with my friend George Behr. George and I have known each other for about 5 years now, through church and men's group. He is brand new to cycling, which made yesterday's ride fun. You remember fun on a bicycle, right? We started out with a C+ Level group that was supposed to ride 13-15 miles per hour.

I say supposed to because they didn't. Not exactly, anyway. They were AVERAGING 14...up the side of one of the mountains out here. For a first-time rider, it was NOT the place to be: a pack of testosterone-laden guys looking to impress each other because they can't hack it with the B Level riders. Toughen up, move to the next level and suffer a little to get better, fellas. It works. Honestly.

So George and I broke off from those idjucts and went our own way. I took him down along the Yellow Breeches, a world-class trout stream with a low overhanging tree canopy covering the road-it's cool, quiet and smooth, an ideal road for a beginning rider. It was beautiful. We eased up so we could talk about kids, cycling and life in general. It's actually renewing to be out with a complete newbie because it takes me back to when I was there, trying to figure out things like stopping, starting and not dying while clipping into and out of pedals (Hint: Unclip BEFORE you NEED to unclip). We then noodled up through some rolling hills and cornfields and eased into the high school parking lot for a 21 mile jaunt together.

The cool thing is that George said he was going to start making it a ritual, already planning his next rides. Me? I sat back and listened like a junkie that just introduced someone to the crack that I am selling. Welcome to the addiction, George. I think you're going to love it.

I Had a Revelation...

As you might suspect, I have been thinking about the Third Annual Team Fish or Cut Bait assault on cancer at the LiveSTRONG ride in Philadelphia. We'll be cycling into the hills outside of Philadelphia in a 100 mile Tour de Force to fight cancer. What I have been thinking about are the forces lined up against us. It's not going to be easy: the rain has cut into some training, but we've put our bikes on trainers, risen early to get out and come up with other creative ways to get in our time. The heat has been non-existent so far, which means we can't prep for the inevitable 95+ degree muggy weather (if you don't know "muggy" it's Philadelphian for unbearably hazy hot and humid). There's also the economy. And add too that the fact that Lance only came in third at the Tour de France at the tender age of 37. I think he really needs too step his game up.

Oh. And then there's that thing with the economy. You may have heard about it on the news. Which has caused me to reevaluate, I think in a new way, how I am measuring success this year. The last two years, I wanted to reach certain dollar levels. This year I have spent more time thinking about what's REALLY important and this is what I have arrived at: THE PEOPLE.

That's why this year I am going to start measuring Team Fish's success by the number of people we "bring" with us to the event. Look, the economy is going to do what the economy is going to do. What I am hoping and praying is that you will give what you are able to give, whatever that is for you. What I want to do is bring an army of people with me, in thought, hope, prayer and spirit, who are willing to say, "I am with Team Fish!"

So there you have it. And there it is. IF YOU'RE ABLE to give, and you want to stand as part of Team Fish as we go off to battle, YOU CAN CLICK HERE.

If you're not able to give, your thoughts, prayers and well-wishes will be with us. You can leave them on this blog in the comments section, or send them to me directly. Go Fish!

Well, Now That Was Fun

Thought this was tres' cool:


Thanks, Spaniard.

On the Drainer

There are times when you just can't ride a bicycle on the road. Rain. Cold. Dark. Last night it was a combination of things that included rain, dark and guests. My friends brought their two daughters camping at Knoebel's, a great family park near our home. We shot up there for half a day, had an awesome time, then came back and settled everyone down for the evening.

By the time I could even think about riding, everyone was in bed except Michael and me. I ran out to the video store rented Iron Man (if you haven't seen it, get it!) and we watched it together while I road for an hour on the stationary trainer (aka The Drainer) an exercise in mindless monotony. Sometimes you just have to get the time in when you can.

And So It Begins...

Team Fish is once again building. My brother joined Team Fish or Cut Bait today, marking the official beginning of the cancer ass-kicking season. The LiveSTRONG Challenge is in Philadelphia on August 23rd, an opportunity to raise money to fight cancer by riding a bicycle 10, 40, 70 or 100 miles. You can also run or walk the 5K.

There are several ways you can join Team Fish as we fight cancer. First, you can get on your bike and ride with us! You can go to the Team Fish or Cut Bait Homepage and join our team. Last year, my brother Pat, cousin Michael and friend Kurt joined Team Fish. I would love to see even MORE people come out this year. Think about it: You can ride 10 miles and raise $250.00, right? (Note: the $250 was VERY daunting the first time I did it...I raised it in a week. All of the people who have ridden with me have said the same thing. Don't let that be what stops you if you're thinking about it.)

Second, you can give to the LAF in support of my ride. Last year we raised more than $5,000. Go to Teh Fundraising Lownje of Fish and make a pledge. Furthermore, I am all-in for Challenge Giving! Last year, we had a chance to Shave the Wookie! That's right, yours truly shaved his legs at the $1,000 threshold.

Then, I shaved the head at $2,000...

Rest assured, if you have a recipe for insanity, or just an itch you need to scratch, and want to offer me a challenge, the negotiations can begin (just ask Bill Moore and his buddy Pat and friends...).

Last, inspiration comes in many, many forms. I do not speak lightly of TEAM FISH. It is a TEAM. And that means so much more than simply the riders who are out there with me. It is the people who support us in this endeavor. Many of you have given money for the event, and as a cancer survivor who has benefited from that (testicular cancer was a death sentence thirty years ago. Now, it's 95% curable if they get it early), I assure you, no amount is too small. What REALLY matters to me is the PEOPLE for whom I am riding: you, your friends, your loved ones, your sons and daughters, the living and the saints. It is the spirit of TEAM FISH to bring everyone with us, in body, mind and spirit.

Some of you have given your time, helping me get prepared both physically and mentally (Mrs Fish and Little Fish have been especially helpful here). Others used their unique talents or skills too add something special to the ride, like Kurt and his BUTNZ! I share them on the ride with fellow riders and survivors and they never fail to bring a smile...as a matter of fact, I had people remember me from the first year as "The Buttton Guy".

Or, maybe you have mad photoshop skills...


By far the greatest inspiration I receive are the stories. So often, people will make a donation to my page in honor or memory of someone and e-mail me to tell me just why that person is so special. I would be continually honored if you have someone you want me to ride for and you want to share them with me.

And so there you have it, and there it is. It's open season on cancer, and I'm going hunting. Who's with me?

Why Do You Do It?

I've been riding more and more. The other day I shambled through the door, a disheveled mess, and Mrs. Fish asked me why I do it. I wasn't really sure how to answer, having just ridden nearly 50 miles and arriving home cramped, somewhat dehydrated, completely blasted and in a state where the only thing I wanted to do was put my head in the ice chest in the freezer. It was a question I probably should have asked myself, but I didn't.

Until yesterday. I was riding another 50 miler when everything faded away. Runners talk about runner's high, and I have been there before, a long time ago but not on a bike. I was pedalling away when I crested a hill and I became a single being, my bike, my legs, my heart, my lungs, all in complete harmony with the world around me. I could feel my soul drawing on the energy of everyone and everything around me. Everything was a part of me, I was a part of everything and I could feel my heart beating as I breathed in the world and we were all...ONE.

And that is why I do it.

National Stuttering Association

Little Fish stutters, and has pretty much since the age of 3. It was one of those things that Mrs. Fish and I noticed and were largely poo-pooed by doctors, teachers and the like. Still, as teachers of special education, we knew something was amiss.

Scanning the intarwebz revealed very little information, most of it psuedo-scientific stuff that ranged between blaming the parents (you talk too fast) or the environment (she has too much pressure on her). Then, we discovered the National Stuttering Association. We corresponded with some people there and decided to go to the National Conference in Atlanta two years ago (farther down the page HERE).

There, we met amazing people, but more importantly, Little Fish met, for the first time, kids just like her. It was a revelation, and she came to a deeper understanding of her stuttering, as did we. I went from hoping for a "cure" to hoping she would be empowered like the people we saw before us. Most amazing were the teens, kids who had been through all sorts of garbage but come out on top as confident, competent, talented and gifted communicators. I even met a Yankee fan I could almost like....

This year was a reunion and a reconfirmation of all that, and more. We saw teens that we met who have now entered college, and it was incredible. One of the most important conference moments fro me was listening to Jay, a person who stutters and has CP, who is working on his Masters degree. His message was inspiring: don't let stuttering or anything define you or limit you. Stuttering is something you do, not who you are. If you choose not to be a victim, you will not be a victim. It was, for me, the best part of the conference.

I also enjoyed the resort with my family. Floating on the Lazy River at the hotel while gently drifting past the lizards, cacti and cackling birds was great, as was the water chute. I also got out to run in the early morning, before the temperature soared to 117 degrees, making everything quite unlivable out of doors.

The food in Arizona was amazing, but by far the best meal was a simple guacamole made table-side by our waiter. Simply unbelievable...Nom Nom Nom. I loved the spices of the Southwest cuisine, and chorizo is the food of the Gods.

We also had a fantastic time at the Phoenix Zoo, where we got to feed a giraffe! The walk was pretty warm, but it was soooooooo worth it. I thought the hyenas were really cool, too. I was looking at the javelinas when this kid next to me said, "Hey mom, look at this wolf!"
"Oh, very nice," said the mom.
"Ummmmmm...they're wild pigs," I said.
"What?" she asked, somewhat incredulously.
I just mumbled and left. How do you not know a wild pig from a wolf? Seriously.

The best thing about the NSA is how connected I feel with my family after it's all over. My wife, who bravely presents every year, educating parents about their rights in the education system and how to operate within that system to get the most for their children. My brave, strong, amazing daughter who continues to grow in ability and confidence. I love NSA for what it's given us and how much that grows every year.

Word of the Day, by Little Fish: Shizofrantic

schiz⋅o⋅fran⋅tic  /ˌskɪtsəˈfrantic [skit-suh-fran- tic]

–noun

1. Psychiatry. Related to dementia praecox, though more often seen in dogs. A severe mental disorder characterized by some, but not necessarily all, of the following features: extreme tail wagging; running around in circles at a high rate of speed; licking face, hands, legs and toes; utterly losing one's mind, especially when a person you loves comes through the door or down the stairs.

2. a state characterized by the coexistence of contradictory or incompatible elements, especially where the owner is calm and the dog is decidedly not.

Fishing with Little Fish

"The gods do not deduct from man's allotted span the hours spent in fishing."
--Babylonian Proverb

I took Little Fish fishing today and she did great. We both caught fish and she brought in the biggest one. It was a really fun daddy-daughter time.

We hiked down to the Conodoguinnet, a local creek and set up our area. We casted for a bit with no success when a guy came flying down the hill with three Alaskan Malamutes and flew into where we were fishing. He just couldn't control them. So, we moved upstream and that's when we started hooking them. Between the two of us, we probably picked up a dozen fishies.

My Dad

I told this story as part of the toast for my younger brother's wedding.

When I was probably about eight years old, my father took my brother and me fishing. It was part of an adventure that the Fish Family men undertook from time to time, to test their mettle against the wise and mighty sunfish of the world. Of course, we were always trying to catch more than sunfish, but that's all we ever seemed to get (until one day my brother caught an 18 inch bass and then it was fish-on for real!).

So, we went to our favorite family spot, a little bit of water that can best be described as larger than a pond and considerably smaller than a lake. A lake-pond, if you will. We got set up as we always did and proceeded to cast and catch very, very little fish. And very few of them. Being an adventurous 8 year old who was clearly not catching fish, I decided to explore the lake-pond and see if I could locate a better fishing spot (or at least a more interesting place to throw rocks where nobody was fishing).

I came across a tree that had been blown over in a storm, and as luck would have it, it had blown over in such a way that it was hanging over an island about 15 feet off the shore of the lake-pond, with a clear cast to some deep running, promising looking, water. To my trained and finely honed eight-year-old eyes, I saw Big-Fish Water. Surely, this is where all of the lunkers of lake-pond resided and I now had access to them. Sort of.

My Mission Impossible plan was executed thusly (and without the help of my MI Team, I might add): I put my rod and bait in my left hand and used my right hand to balance as I kind of shimmied out on the fallen tree about ten feet from the bank to a spot directly over the island. I dropped my rod (The Horror) and bait down to the island. It seemed a long drop by eight year old standards, but I was after the Lunkers of Lake-Pond. Then I hung down from the tree, chin-up style, and let go.

Whump. I hit the ground. I am fairly certain I added a tuck and roll, MI-style, right after hitting terra firma. I was in my spot. I had the rod and reel, the bait and access to lunkers. I felt brave and smart and even a little proud of myself for devising and executing this clever plan.

I fished for about an hour and noticed it was getting dark. I don't remember if I caught more fish. I do remember I didn't catch bigger fish. Certainly no lunkers. And, it was getting dark. And, I was eight. It was around this time that my father appeared at the top of the hill, where the tree was overhanging and said it was time to go.

My predicament was immediately apparent. With a sudden panic, I realized I had dropped down from a tree I couldn't reach back up to. I had landed on an island, which by definition is surrounded by water. I was stranded on an island with deeper water all around me and no way to get up. So, I did what any eight year-old would do in this situation.

"Dad. I'm kind of stuck down here. Can you help me."

My father assessed the situation with lightning quickness and said, "Son. Never get yourself into a situation that you haven't figured how you can get yourself out of it. We're leaving in five minutes."

And he turned around and walked back to the car.

I ended up wading through the water (warm and deep, as I recall) and got to the car in time. My dad didn't say anything more about it, just handed me a towel to dry off and sit on for the ride home.

I remember being mad at the time, as furious as an eight-year-old can get, wondering why he didn't help me. It wasn't until many years later that I realize just how much he did.

Thanks, Dad.

Happy Father's Day

Finally, something for the dad who has (almost) everything.

Rush Limbaugh

I didn't think Rush could get any dumber. Apparently, I have underestimated him.

Han Solo, P.I.

But before I go...

Whew!

What a weekend. So far I have:

-- Cleaned out the garage, powerwashed it, purged a bunch of junk and took another yard-sale boatload downstairs

-- Fixed teh powerwasher and powerwashed the deck and the furniture

-- Got the deck all set up, including the daybed for Mrs. Fish

-- Mowed the lawn, did the weedwhacking and did some weeding

-- Went on a hike with Little Fish and Murphy

-- Hung out with Little Fish, including a Home Depot run to make new keys, a car dealer run to look at cars, and a Verizon run to look at phones for the two of us

-- Biked 45 miles to Boiling Springs and back...cramped terribly one mile from the house and had to get off and take in an extra gel. I think I need to add some salt to my long, hot rides

I could be wrong, but I think it's time for bed....

The Plagues?

Topping off the chicken bone from two days ago would have been tough, but Mother Nature obliged, yesterday, with a massive hailstorm. While I was driving. Down 81. In the truck corridor around Carlisle.

***Sigh***

I miss that chicken bone.

My Day...

So today I had a tractor-trailer roll over in front of my car on the way to York.

I was in a place that was declared at high risk for a tornado.

I was almost crushed between another tractor-trailer and a guard rail on the way to York.

I just missed a hail storm that dumped golf-ball-sized hail on the midstate.

I passed through a storm where I was in sunshine one second and could not see the next, like those old movies of walking into waterfalls.

And, on the way back to the office, I asked, "What else?" The guy at the light next to me rolled down his window and tossed out a chicken bone drumstick right in front of my car.

I'm so glad today is over.

Golf...

How does one hit three pars and three eights in one nine-hole outing? The problem with golf is this: you must either invest a lot of money and time to get better, or resign yourself to mediocrity and accept that you will never get better. Both of these options appeals to me not at all.


I hate this game. I hate this game. I hate this game. I hate this game. I hate this game. I hate this game. I hate this game.

NICE SHOT!

I love this game.

Top 10 Signs The Fish Might be Getting in Shape

10. No longer makes "the old man noise" when he stands up or sits down.

9. I can almost breathe while riding in the drops.

8. That 60-something-year-old guy I see in my travels no longer seems REALLY fast.

7. The guy who yelled, "Go get 'em Lance" doesn't know about the surgery.

6. I can climb the hill near my daughter's school and the sound I make at the top is "breathing" not "wheezing".

5. When I jumped on it after passing a posse of guys near Harrisburg's MUT, one of them was heard to say, "Man, that s**t is crazy."

4. I went with the breakaway group on the club ride and I didn't die...

3. My wife asks how my ride went and I can manage more than monosyllabic grunts.

2. Passing a rather large woman tonight, she asked me to pick her up on my way back.

1. I sprinted past two pit bulls and felt I had what I needed in my legs if I needed to go, go, go....

Poetry Thursday

Today, a poem from the magnetic poetry set my brother got us for Christmas.

Untitled

I sleep and dream
an enormous blue moon
smearing the sky above me
like a mad, sweet, sordid symphony
playing to eternity.

Cast Your Net on the Other Side of the Boat...

This is one of those stories in the Bible that always cracked me up. The boys are out fishing and haven't caught a thing all day. I've had days like that, but my livelihood never depended on it. So, I imagine they're kind of already pissed when this carpenter comes along and says, "Cast your nets on the other side of the boat."
"What did he just say?"
"I think he just said, 'Cast your nets on the other side of the boat.'"
"Yeah. That's what I heard too."
The funny thing is that they actually do it. So, there are no fish all day, then suddenly there are so many fish on the other side of the boat their nets start to break when they haul them in. I always wondered what those guys said as they were hauling those fish in....

Fast forward 2000 years to a home in Central Pennsylvania where an angry man is trying to install door locks on his home. He is not sure who designed these things, but he has an inkling it might have been monkeys pulling levers or Galilean fishermen. He struggles to match up the screws, to get the two sides of the door to connect. Time after time, he is on the failboat. He says words that would have put those fishermen to shame, words that no one should hear, and they don't because it is "round midnight" and all the smart people have gone to bed and are safely tucked away in a place where the worst thing they face is the nightmare that is this man's reality: a project with no end in sight.

The next morning he awakens to the sound of his wife's alarm clock, which was set for 6.30 even though his wife is away from home with a girlfriend and the only one to hear it is this poor, angry man. Bleary-eyed, he goes to face his sick cat who has thrown up on the floor and is now refusing to eat the medicated food he provides, the man desperately trying to fend off the other flabby tabby who insists that all food placed on the floor is fair game, and therefor must be hers and hers alone.

It is now 6.37 am. The door awaits. He makes a cup of coffee and steels himself for the task at hand. In his mind, he is preparing his arsenal of words for a first round bludgeoning assault on the locks with no ears. He dives in with both hands and quickly the dance begins again. An hour-and-a-half later, frustration, desperation, and anger intermingle in a stew that combines the flavors in such a way that it is impossible to tell where one begins and the other ends and it really doesn't matter because the way this stew looks no one would ever even approach it, much less partake. It is rage stew, and it is on the cusp of boiling over.

The man says out loud, "Okay God, I can't do this any more. I just can't. Can you please give me a hand here?"

A calm comes over the man, a calm which has no explanation, and a voice says, "Turn the lock upside-down." It makes no sense really, but he does it. It looks exactly the same as the other way, but he doesn't stop to consider it. He just does it, like casting his net on the other side of the boat and the lock slides gently into place, the screws lining up perfectly and sliding in as easily as if it were sliding into a pile of freshly-caught fish. The second lock goes even more easily than the first.

The man laughs out loud, the laugh of redemption, relief and realization. He connects a 2000 year dot-to-dot timeline and says what he suspects those fishermen said all those years ago. "Okay, God. Now THAT was funny."

Behold: Corgi Thoughts

Funny (some language may be NSFW)...

Quote of the Day

D: We all have our own ways of dealing with pain.

Me: I drown mine in bacon and other pork products.

I Think My Next Car Will Be a Hybrid...

...perhaps this little guy, the Toyota FT-HS.





With only 242,000 miles on my Honda, this car might actually be out by the time I need a new one.

A Day Without Sunshine...

...is like the last month and a half here in Central PA. Seriously. I am going to start building my ark in case it doesn't stop raining, and stock up on locust repellent in case it's just a precursor to the next plague.

Can I get one day of warmth and sunshine. Too much to ask? It seems so.

Sixth Annual Caddyshack Neighbor Dinner

We have a neighborhood tradition that we have had since the year we moved into the neighborhood, six (or is it seven? I can never remember) years ago. When we first moved here, we saw one of our neighbors at a local outdoor-deck-style eatery, The Caddyshack.

The Caddyshack is set on a golf course and offers good hotwings, cold beer and the kind of family menu that is bound to make everyone, including the kids, happy. The one place The Caddyshack has failed, and the reason it is an annual trip instead of a weekly excursion (aside from it being a seasonal place, closed from November to March), is that it has always had terrible service. Always. Like set-your-clock-by-it-because-you-know-it's-coming-again-this-year bad service.

This year, we ordered our drinks. The drinks came and they were all correct. We ordered our food and mentioned we were really hungry. The appetizer came out first, and quickly. Then, the meals came, just as quickly. My drink ran out. It was replaced, as was everyone else's. We finished. We waited...but not for long. Not for the eternity that would have, and in the past, has, ruined our meals. No. The check came out and everything was right.

If I had gone there first yesterday, I might have bet a 50-1 horse in the Derby. No matter, it's surely a sign of the Apocalypse and very soon money won't matter.

First Dance...

I took Little Fish to her first dance on Friday. She is in fifth grade and it was the school's annual Middle School dance. I really wasn't sure how I felt about the whole thing, being a Dad and all that.

On the way over I asked how she was feeling and "excited" was the mode. She had decided to go with a bunch of her girlfriends. I drove up to the school and she got out of the car with an aloof wave of the hand over her shoulder and said, "Bye Dad." The unspoken dual messages of confidence and please-don't-embarrass-me-please-or-I-will-shrivel-up-and-die-on-the-spot were left hanging in the air. I drove off.

I went to pick her up and was unsure about what the pickup arrangement was. There were a bunch of parents in the parking lot, parked and trying not to look awkward or worried. I suspected they looked just like I did. I decided to walk into the school and there was another bunch of parents I knew and we started talking. Little Fish appeared at my side in moments and said, "Can we go?"
"Sure."
"Okay."
We walked to the car. I was attempting to be nonchalant, or rather to act that way, as being would have been impossible. "How was the dance?"
"Good."
"Did you dance a lot?"
"Oh yeah."
"How were the boys?" I tried to sneak the question in with an easy-breezy lightness.
"The boys are idiots."

Still my Little Fish.

The Sharper Your Knife, the Less You Cry: Love, Laughter, and Tears in Paris at the World's Most Famous Cooking School by Kathleen Flinn

"Cooking is like love. It should be entered into with abandon or not at all."
---Harriet Van Horne
Kathleen Flinn was a big-time American executive for a travel-focused publishing firm in London. She was living the life and the corporate world was her oyster. One day, it all came to an abrupt halt when she arrived at the office to learn she had been fired. Unsure of what to do next, her boyfriend suggests she pursues a childhood dream she once confided to him: to go through the hallowed halls of Le Cordon Bleu, Paris' premiere cooking school, the one that gave us Julia Child and become a classically trained French Chef.

Flinn applies and is miraculously accepted. What follows is the subject The Sharper Your Knife, the Less You Cry: Love, Laughter, and Tears in Paris at the World's Most Famous Cooking School of a slice of adventure that follows her trials and tribulations, burning, slicing, frying and exploding meals, crying and laughing with friends and falling in love. I didn't like this book when I first started it, but decided to stick with it for a bit, and I am very glad I did. Her style settles in, and I really came to like the characters she fleshes out, most notably the chefs.

When Flinn begins at Le Cordon Bleu, she is assured by the chefs that she is wasting her time, and they cannot fathom why she is there. But, she stays with it, learning, growing and fighting for that little space at the kitchen prep table that becomes hers. Flinn uses strong storytelling to mix life and cooking, and like any memorable meal, the two become intertwined in a way that makes them inseparable, like the meals we share with friends and family around the kitchen with a glass of wine.

Moreover, in this age of people being laid off, rightsized, downsized and otherwise pulled away from what we thought was our birthright (work hard and The Company will reward you, right?) while realizing it was never more than smoke and mirrors; in a time when we're finding out that The Wizard is one slick lever-pull away from relieving us all of our own American Dreams, Flinn reminds us that before THAT dream, we had another one: our childhood dream.

And more importantly, that there is still time to follow it....

"The Unthinkable: Who Survives When Disaster Strikes -- And Why" by Amanda Ripley

What would you do if you suddenly found yourself in the midst of a disaster? A shooting on campus, a plane going down in an icy river, a hurricane making landfall, or the ultimate terror of a plane crashing into your building? That's what Amanda Ripley set out to answer in her book The Unthinkable, examining eyewitness and first-person accounts of people who survived disasters.

Ripley takes a look at our responses, from freezing and remaining completely immobile, to going back to collect things and calm interactions (after terrorists flew into the World Trade Centers, people went to their desks to get a few things, then helped each other down the stairs with an "after you" attitude) to the completely inexplicable acts of heroism. She looks at things from a societal and biological perspective and offers insights into human behavior with a critical and scientific eye.

I am still not sure how much I "enjoyed" this book, but it certainly was eye-opening. Further, The Unthinkable offers insights that enable readers to gauge their own possible responses in a disaster. One of the key findings is that people who survive such moments, and who act well in them are those who have actually considered what they might do in a given situation, how they might escape it, and even how they might help others survive.

I'd suggest paging through this book. And pay attention the next time you're on a plane and the stewards are going over the safety instructions and pointing out exits. It's one of the biggest determinants of who lives and dies in an air disaster. You're welcome.

Dude...just Wow.

Word of the Day

Little Fish strikes again, with another gem. Today's word was found in Church while Pastor Troy spoke about yearning. Little Fish came up with:

Urining [yur'-eh-ning] -noun
1. deep longing to go to the bathroom
2. an instance of such longing.

Ex. I drank a lot of water earlier, then experienced a deep urining in the middle of the meeting.

Harry Kalas

I was watching the video tribute to former Phillies announcer Harry Kalas and thinking about almost 40 years of baseball with him. My brother and I used to play wiffle ball in the back yard and we would break out our baseball card collection and choose up our teams by position. The thing was, you then had to hit and play like the player you were emulating. I liked Phil Neikro because I got to throw a knuckleball, which is an amazing thing when you have it working with a wiffleball. I also like Steve Carlton because he was a Phillie and he threw hard. My brother used to grab the Joe Morgan card, convinced that the "chicken flap" of the arm before hitting made the ball go farther when he got into one...more than once "Joe Morgan" parked it in the neighbor's backyard, by rule, a homerun. And we announced the game, trying to sound like a real announcer, trying to sound like Harry.

I don't usually get all maudlin about the passing of celebrities, but by all accounts Harry Kalas was a gem precisely because he was not a celebrity. Person after person speaks about his approachability, his humility and his simple love for his beloved Phillies and the game they played. I remember summers at my Uncle Charlie's shucking corn by a transistor radio while he chain-smoked unfiltered Pall Malls in a blue haze; I remember driving in the front seat of my dad's car with no seatbelt with "the game" on; and I remember the wiffleball games in the backyard with "Joe Morgan" squaring off against Steve Carlton. And the constant was the call of the announcer, the only one my brother and I had ever known: Harry Kalas.

I'm going to miss him.

Word of the Day

Little Fish has inhereted the love of words Mrs. Fish and I share, including inventing new words when existing ones don't suffice. To wit, I offer you:

Slethy [sleth - ee] adjective, sleth⋅i⋅er, sleth⋅i⋅est
1. The feeling resulting from an excess of mucous, particularly as it settles at the back of the throat
2. the way your throat feels after slugging orange juice or milk
3. that icky feeling you get between your throat and your stomach when running, especially in the rain or in humid weather.

Ex. I felt slethy when I ran tonight, and I only got slethier when I drank orange juice afterwards.

Let Me Win...

...but if I cannot win, let me be brave in the attempt. My buddy Vern made this video of a local Special Olympics event, featuring his daughter and the other athletes who competed that day. Absolutely awesome. Go Kaitlin!

Don't Drink and Drive...Idiot!

I have to think the 911 operator saved him from a Darwin Award...

We're Number 66!

That's right, baby! Okay, so it might not be one shining moment, but it does put a stamp of authentication on a program that was at best an afterthought and at worst an embarrassment for years in Happy Valley. We Are...Penn State!

For Those of You Keeping Score at Home...

...I ran the get Your Rear in Gear 5K in 28.32. Not bad, and I was pleased I 1) finished and 2) did it in less than 30 minutes. While the road to recovery is long, it's nice to be out and running again. Nicer still that the weather has decided to start helping a little as well.

WE Are....Penn State!

Okay, it might seem a little strange to be vying for the bragging rights to say, "We're number 66!" but that's exactly what the NIT Basketball Tournament is all about. That having been said, my Nittany Lions are still in it, advancing to the Final 4 to face Notre Dame tonight.

Right now, it looks like they'll hang on to beat the Domers, so it's on to the Finals: Go Lions!

Proofreading...

If you're sending out letters to thousands of people across the country, announcing the launch of your new corporate identity, check the spelling and punctuation. It's not too much to ask, even in this day and age...

Yes, I Live...

...just trapped under a pile of work. In the latest "Don't Be That Guy" I offer you this:

When you go to a dinner to honor outstanding student achievement, and the student of the moment is at your table, don't go on and on about your work. Take a moment to ask said student about themselves. You might learn something interesting. Like that she studied a semester in France. Or that she wants to go back there to teach English. Or that her sorority is not the drink-your-face-off variety, but the we're-holding-a-dance-contest-to-support-Ronald-McDonald-House variety. Or that the thing that keeps her and her parents close is she always felt they always LISTENED to her. If you close the piehole, you'll get that. Just sayin' don't be THAT guy.

Oh yeah. If your phone has a rock anthem for its ringtone, rest assured the only person amused or interested by that is you. The other people listening to the guest speaker are the least amused...unless you count the guest speaker himself. Don't be rock-anthem-ringtone-guy.

And, if you're the guest speaker, at least TRY to be interesting. Please....

Get Your Rear in Gear: Philadelphia

"The art of being sick is not the same as the art of getting well. Some cancer patients recover; some don’t. But the ordeal of facing your mortality and feeling your frailty sharpens your perspective about life. You appreciate little things more ferociously. You grasp the mystical power of love. You feel the gravitational pull of faith. And you realize you have received a unique gift – a field of vision others don’t have about the power of hope and the limits of fear; a firm set of convictions about what really matters and what does not. You also feel obliged to share these insights – the most important of which is this: There are things far worse than illness – for instance, soullessness."
---Tony Snow

The doctor gave me a green light to start working out again last week. FINALLY. So, I spent this week slllllooooowwwwwllllly ramping up. I did't want to push anything or rush anything, so just some nice easy jogs around the block and some time on the bike.


Tomorrow I am going to run in my first race since last year, a 5K in Philadelphia called Get Your Rear in Gear. It's a race to raise awareness of colon cancer and to raise money to fight it. I got a shout from one of the race organizer's Tony Snow's sister, Jennifer. Since colon cancer claimed her brother, she has been seeking ways to beat cancer back, and so she naturally called on her experience as a racer and triathlete. I am so excited to be part of the First Get Your Rear in Gear: PPhiladelphia race. Needless to say, I won't be racing (the time off has made me fat and slow) but I will be finishing....for Tony, for Jennifer, and for those fighting everywhere.

Men's Group

I go to a men's Bible study every first and third Saturday. Some weeks I come away with more than others, but it's always a good opportunity to get together with a bunch of my friends and get ground.

Anyway, this week we tackled Matthew 23, and at some point God put this on my heart: People would like Christians more if we focused on what we are for and spent less time on what we are against.

First Day of Spring

"If you don't like the weather in Central Pennsylvania, wait five minutes."
---Old adage

So, today it was in the 50s, approaching 60 degrees, then dropped off dramatically in the afternoon. At which point it started to snow. Then warmed again. And has now dropped to near freezing.

I think I'd Improve My Swim Time on This One

Lorica: The Morning Prayer of St. 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)

Rough One...

"Tell me why
I don't like Mondays..."

---Boomtown Rats

I'm home with my Little Fish who is running a temperature and feeling pretty ill. Fortunately, I have the kind of job where I can work from home at least part of the time and still be (mostly) effective.

Also, some of you know that I am a fan of PAVONE, a local advertising agency who does some really cool work. I just found out from a friend of mine, who is a principal there, that four of their people were heading down to Spring training when they had a terrible accident. Three of them were injured; one was injured severely enough to be placed in ICU, but is expected to survive. A fourth member was killed.

My thoughts and prayers go out to the PAVONE family. If you have a moment, and you're in the habit of saying prayers, remember them, if you would...

Word of the Day

Misteak mis⋅take   /mɪˈsteɪk/ verb, -took, -tak⋅en, -tak⋅ing.
–noun
1. an error in action, calculation, opinion, or judgment caused by poor reasoning, carelessness, insufficient knowledge, or a couple of glasses before dinner.

2. an error in ordering the steak special at a fancy restaurant without first finding out how much it costs, recognizing the ommission on the staff member's part may have been intentional.

See also $50.00 for a New York Strip and French fries.

My Word of the Day

Here's today's word of the day:

Ewconomy ew⋅con⋅o⋅my   /ewˈkɒnəmi/ plural -mies, adjective, adverb
–noun
1. the lack of prosperity or earnings of a place. Related to ickonomy, the lowest state of all things financial.

MRI Reading

So, it turns out that I damaged two of the three major ligaments in the ankle, but nothing is torn, broken or shattered. Also, there is a cyst (11 mm wide) on my heel bone. I should have that looked at again in a year just to make sure it isn't growing but the doc doesn't seem to think it's anything to be concerned about, now.

The good news is everything is healing up and I am okay to begin light jogging. Even better, the doc told me I should focus on cycling more to strengthen the ankle and increase the range of motion. Any ailment that lists MORE CYCLING as the cure is okay with me. Fill up the prescription bottle, baby!

I Get a Little Vertigo Looking at These

HOLY CARP!

Mmmmmmmmmmmmm....

"Beef. It's what's for dinner."
---Robert Mitchum

Sometimes, nothing but a big honkin' burger with cheese will do. Can I get an Amen?

Daylight Saving Time

Please. There is one "s" in Daylight Saving Time. It can be found at the beginning of Saving. The last letter in the word is g.

Thank you, in advance, for your participation in this year's event.

MRI...

Finally went for the MRI on the ankle. It's been so long I can't even remember when I bustimicated it, but Doc said if it's not better by February to get it looked at. It's March and it's still not right.

Here's what I want to hear: "It's almost there, just give it another month. In the meantime, let's start on PT."

Here's what I don't want to hear: "You need surgery and 6 months of rehab." Amputation seems like a kind of bad option, too.

While I was at the imaging center, they had a list of music from which I could choose. My first instinct was jazz, but then I started thinking about it. If it's Muzak jazz, a half hour could be measured in dog years, taking 3.5 hours off my life. I thought about the "alternative sampler" but had the same thought in the opposite direction. I finally settled on Al Green, and I have to say it was a great choice for MRI music.

Don't Be That Guy...

Yeah. Um...the guy at the meeting of high-powered finance executives from across the region whose phone goes off in the middle of the meting because he hasn't turned it off or set it to mute? Don't be that guy.

The middle-aged guy who has the rap-song ring-tone talking about how delicious someone's booty is? Don't be THAT guy either.

The guy who comes in late to the meeting, then gets all sloppy at the buffet, spilling his hastily thrown together pancakes onto the floor. Their pancakes. It's not like you're wrestling grunions. Again. Just don't be that guy.

The guy who asks a question that was just answered three minutes ago, and he would have kept it to himself had he been listening? Don't be that guy.

Seriously. It's a business meeting. And, if you're reading this and wondering what's wrong with ANY of those, you already ARE that guy. Maybe we should talk. Seriously. Your coworkers, your family and your career will thank me.

E-A-G-L-E-S, EAGLES!

Sports is a business. I get it. But you have to believe there's a part of Brian Dawkins that will forever be part of the City of Brotherly Love. After 13 years with my beloved Eagles, Weapon X, B-Dawk, is going to wear the orange of the Denver Broncos. I am going to miss his work ethic, his focus, and his belief that the game is never over until the final whistle sounds.

I am soooooooo going to miss this cat on Game Day....