Memory-ial Day at the Cabin

Twas a quiet Memorial Day. Despite the "vintage" jetski at my cousin's on the point, despite the sounds of various layers of Hodges/Fullam/Seifert/Ingvalson children, despite the sounds of amour between Tilley and her cousin dog Max, there was an odd kind of quiet.

My girls were missing!

When I stopped to think about it, it occurred to me that there have been few years (if any) that I didn't bring at least a handful of chicks along for the ride. Oftentimes this was at great logistical and petrol expense, with sometimes multiple vehicles caravanning down from DC.

There was the year we all toured the Litespeed bike factory (complete with riding around on a $1000 titanium tricycle). There was the year that Cathy and I taught Sheila and Mark from Ireland how to fish. There was the year that Cameron was -um -invented. There was the year Jessica discovered strawberry salsa. There was the year I bought my tri bike. There were the many years that inbetween getting sun we swam, biked, ran, or talked about triathlon. There was the year Dad busted JoMarie and her date. There was the year Dad busted me and MY date, flown into DC from CA and then driven all night to TN. There were the years that Amelia got back to her Southern roots. There were even the years when Sarah and Tina and Gina came from Campus Green Vote, and Pam from the NMP days.

Nostalgia aside, this year was about family. We hadn't seen Warren and Susan and Sam and AnnMarie and Max since Thanksgiving, so we were excited to get some serious hang time in despite John needing to do some studying as well.

We ended up scooting out of town early from Atlanta which put us headed to Chattanooga around lunchtime. I called ahead to my friend and high school love Connor who we picked up and headed to Sticky Fingers rib shack. Connor, meeting my high school dating requirement of being a McCallie boy, said as we pulled in the parking lot that the place was pretty good even if it is owned by a bunch of Baylor boys. School rivals in Chattanooga are lifelong, I tell ya. After we hung out with Connor and dropped him back to work, we stopped by to see his mom and did a little shopping. It was great to catch up with both of them and now Connor no longer has the excuse of not having my Atlanta address for letter writing. True to form, a letter arrived not three days later.

We arrived at the cabin with the girls late afternoon and hung out with Mom and Dad and did some visiting. Let me explain the Cabin for a second. Located on Watts Bar Lake, my grandfather purchased a lot and my great uncles did the same. Now "the hill" is still all family two generations, with the addition of the Hicks at the turnoff who are now as close as family. It pleases me to no end when Tilley waddles off our dock and heads over to the other dock "for just a little visit with my cousins" just as I did as a little kid, just as our grandparents did, just as our parents do, and now as my cousins' kids do.

Late that nite, the Little Hodges arrived, I heard Tilley bark at Max then I got up to greet tha gang briefly. Tilley lamented Max (a Golden) was "no longer my size, wtf!". The weekend was peppered with Tilley chasing Max, Max chasing Tilley, sometimes involving one or more of my brothers' kids Sam and AnnMarie, and sometimes a cousin from across the way. We spent some good time doing water training with Max - and now of course Tilley wants to go duck hunting with Uncle Warren :) John also got in some adjustments on my cousin Wayne and his pals when they came over to assist with hooking up the wireless router. We also got some quality time in with my cousin Alex and a brief hi with his sister Christina. Must get back for another visit soon!!

CORGIS! CORGIS! CORGIS!

As part of our Memorial Day pilgrimage to the cabin for some sun and family time with Mom, Dad, Warren, Susan, Sam, Ann Marie, and Max...not to mention a multitude of cousins on "the hill" as per the multi-generational tradition...John and I had a little side trip planned.

It was time to go meet Browdie, the new puppy. BROWD (sounds like the past tense of the word brow as in eyebrow) is the Welsh word for brother, fitting because he'll be a little brother to Tilley and Laika and also shares a bday with my brother :).

We headed over across the dam past the massive and historically controversial Watts Bar nuclear reactor towards Athens and Sweetwater. Home to Mayfield Dairy, the Lost Sea, and our newest-to-be member of the family.

We crossed over I-75 and ducked in and around turns on country roads that felt (to me) like home; it was nice to see an area that looked like it hadn't changed much in the past years.

Honeysuckle was so thick on the vine you could smell it in the air driving along as we passed little farms, a multitude of cows, and yes, even an alpaca farm (Jess, I did not stop to herd them).

We turned up the gravel lane and headed up the hill to the house and were greeted by the fine folks at Immer Essen farm. I knew already that I liked these people from our chats on the phone and email, but really liked them once we met them. I can sum it up by saying this... anyone who raises corgis overlooking the Smoky Mountains, is a self-proclaimed militant vegetarian, and is a Buddhist who can comfortably quote Monty Python and the Princess Bride is alright with us.

We headed over to the little pen with an open travel crate full of little puppies pretty much sacked out on top of one another happily. One brave soul came over, the others in the corner of the pen or the crate itself couldn't be bothered. After a while our hostess headed over and un-sandwiched our boy from the pile and brought him over. As expected, even cuter in person :). He was pretty friendly with us but still pretty young and distracted. He took a little interest in the small toy I'd brought along, but was quickly on to the next thing such as my purse, shoe, or the cuff of my jeans leg. He was fine being held but didn't seem to want to get up near my face just yet.

Then we headed over to the outdoor day runs to meet Llewy, the dad. He was such a bundle of HURRAH - so friendly and energetic. He enjoyed the Zuke's mini treats I had along :). We then went along to meet some of the other corgis just for fun, including the highlight of the pen with the 8 and 12 week litters, where I was happily assaulted by many paws and puppy tongues. Just corgis. Everywhere. John and I later shared that we both seperately wished we had asked to go in and just lay there and let them have their way with us. Corgis!!

Next, we headed over to meet Faith, the mom. They are at 4 weeks so are starting to spend part of the day away from mom. She was such a sweetie....very friendly and happy. A good size too, much like Tilley in terms of confirmation. She enjoyed the backrub from me, lamenting "these puppies are killin me".

Then it was back to the puppy pen for us for more time with Browdie. I did a little putting him on his back on my lap and he was just fine, playing with my hand and my LiveSTRONG bracelet. He also nuzzled up to my neck and then proceeded to give a few glorious puppy flavored kisses to my nose.

Eventually it was time to leave his travel crate behind and say goodbye until 4 weeks from now when we whisk him away to start his new life. The good news is at least he didn't issue a verbal moan of discontent when he saw us like Tilley did the first time when we picked her up at the airport. She's since retracted her initial disappointment and regrets her initial comment. A few videos to get your cute fix on for the day:

Our Little Growing Family

Well it's time. Time to grow by one, time to shake things up, time to tip the scales a little.

They say there's never REALLY a good time, and no one is EVER really TRULY ready, so why not go for it.

That's right. We're getting a baby!

Another corgi, that is. Here's the thing. The only really good time to do it is when John is off in June so that we can be on St. Simons for the new arrival for intensive potty training and beach indoctrination. As fate would have it, I found a breeder near Mom and Dad in TN that had a litter on the way that if all went well, the timing would be perfection.

All went well, and the mom (Faith) delivered her puppies on April 20, my brother Warren's birthday. After 6 puppies, came one more, a little tri (mostly black with some white and tan) boy. Our boy :)

The working name is Brodey (spelling TBD)...from the Welsh word for "brother", Browd.

Tilley is beside herself with excitement and can't wait for (her words) "my puppy". Laika is indifferent but tolerant as usual and is optimistic that this may translate into longer naptimes.

Contemplating A New Kind of Training

So with still little progress on The Knee...and let's be honest, a lack of motivation to do much else...I thought maybe it's time to give a little something back to my training partner. That one who stood beside me and asked no questions when I opted to go out when it was 38 and raining, or 60 and sunny, or 32 with snow on the ground. That one who waited in the car for me to finish the Emerald Pointe Triathlon. That one who's been running all her little life.

Tilley.

I had always thought Dog Agility looked kinda cool, and knew Tilley could run, but hadn't really looked into it. What better time to look into it than now? I found a place not too far from us, Canine Capers, that holds classes and what not. We decided (Tilley, always up for anything) to go check them out during a Saturday when they were holding course run-throughs.

The facility was all indoor and very nice. As we walked in, I noticed a group of humans walking the course pacing it out and practicing their signals and thought holy shit this is serious business. It was very quiet. People were very focused. Even the dogs looked serious.

The place had rubberized flooring and all kinds of jumps and obstacles, with dogs and owners very obediently waiting their turn. Tilley was all sniffing but relatively sane by my side.

Then the shit hit the fan.

A dog started on course and man! Barking, thundering through the tunnels, banging the teeter totter, going through the poles, and Tilley is like. W. T. F. ? She got really barky and spooky and whiney and wanted to be held, and this went on and off for a while. She finally settled on sitting on the bench next to me. At one point mid afternoon I took her out for some potty/play time outside, and we head back in and she pauses and looks at me like "um yeah if we don't go back in there that's ok with me".

After a little more time and meeting some of the friendlier dogs/owners, she settled down. We left and I got the impression it would be okay to bring her back, so we enrolled in the Tuesday class for intro to agility. I hope it goes well because like John said, if this turns out to be just like the ballet lessons, and the piano lessons, and the art classes where she quickly lost interest, we're done.

After such a trying experience Tilley was glad to go to Garden Ridge to do a little shopping...she stayed in the cart the entire time and as it filled slipped further and further into a nap hole.  People would admire and coo as they passed the cart filled with porch pillows, a dogbed, and about 50 hawaiian leis (the girls needed a fresh wardrobe), and a corgi and go "oooohhhh!".  I simply smiled and whispered "Corgis, Aisle 4".

Long Time, No Hear

So it's been a quiet few weeks for you readers. The focus of my time seems to have shifted abruptly from training to work...partly due to injury, partly due to necessity and timing.

I've spent the past few weeks doing some isometric exercises and the prognosis is marginal. I didn't try it last weekend but the weekend prior (after a whole week and a half off) I tried a little :10 elliptical then a little treadmill. I was elated that the latter was going well, until about 8 minutes in when I felt the knee twinge. I stopped at :10 (my intent) but was bummed that it didn't go longer. I spent the rest of the afternoon doing ab work and swimming...then immersed myself in work...and travel for work.

I headed down to New Orleans for the Nonprofit Technology Network (NTEN) conference. I was excited to be going for several reasons. The first, admittedly, was for the chance to network and get some good exposure for Northridge. I'd gotten onto a panel of a friend and former client, Mark at Sea Change on fundraising usability, and was excited for that as well as the general high school reunion feel the conference promised. I had the chance to connect with all kinds of dear old friends and former coworkers, clients, and partners.

Finally, I was excited because Dad was riding with me as my stowaway, and we always have grand adventures. While it's tempting to go through the highlights of the conference and our road trip, I think the best way to summarize it is a la a race report...by the numbers.

- Number of travel partners: 1 (Grandy! My Dad is a watercolor artist and is always out to get some inspiring shots for his subjects, and snapped up my "free spare bed and ride down" offer in a heartbeat)
- Number of miles driven: 978 (not counting the 20 mile side trip to Bayou LaBatre nor the miles Dad drove during the day to shoot photos)
- Number of miles walked downtown to dinners at night and shopping: 978 (ok, not really)
- Number of people attending our fundraising usability session: About 75, not bad!
- Number of former coworkers I ran into: 9 (Niemi, Cohen, Leta, Voelker, Stines, Ferraro, Herron, Labieniec, Cervino)
- Number of longtime clients and friends met in person for first time: 1 (Jed Miller!)
- Number of fans of this blog talked to: 1 (Peter at Convio)
- Times I got to run or swim: 0
- Number of hours I was awake Wednesday between the drive down, the meeting en route, and staying up late to compile the group's presentation: 20.5
- Number of flat tires: 1 (poor Grandy, on his first morning excursion)
- Number of times Grandy used the phrase regarding Crayfish "suck the head" then giggled: 14
- Number of great meals had: 3 (dinner at La Marigny Brasserie with Liz and Bridget from RedEngine Digital (one of our partners), dinner at Amelie with Liz and Dad, brunch at the Court of Two Sisters with Dad and Kristin)
- Number of "bonus attendees" at the evening reception both days at the conference: 1 (Grandy, duh, free food!)
- Number of near panic attacks: 2 (bridge across Lake Pontchartrain, whee for me!)
- Number of feet high the waves were on said lake on the way into town: 3.5, with whitecaps
- Number of tall bridges I surprised myself by driving over: 2 (somewhere in Alabama)
- Miles per hour the wind was blowing as we drove from Mobile towards NOLA: 40
- Times I was glad I wasn't on a plane in that shit: 40
- Times I wished that drive was over: 40
- Number of feather boas purchased: 1 (for Laika)
- Number of stuffed Armadillos purchased: 1 (for Tilley)
- Number of masks purchased collectively: 5 (mine plus all the grandkids)
- Number of shrimp boats in Bayou LaBatre: countless
- Number in trees, as was the case post Katrina: 0 that we saw
- Number or random trinkets for desk acquired: 4 (snow globe for the line-up, piece of driftwood and 2 oyster shells from Bayou LaBatre)
- Number of times I was glad that Grandy is my Grandy: 94
- Number of times I missed John: 24
- Number of times I missed the girls and thought how much they would enjoy the myriad of smells along the streets of the French Quarter: 11
- Number of times I was *so* proud to be representing Northridge and no one else: 147

Second Best Thing to a Run

THE RUNNING STORE!

If you can't running, go talk to people about running.

In my quest to simultaneously control AND distract myself from my recent conundrum and quasi-rest, what better field trip than the Big Peach Running Store? These people are phenomenal. John and I went in, me carrying my limp, 215-mile broken Nimbus's and a pathetic look on my face. She immediately knew how to help.

We went through a battery of questions, walking, trotting on the treadmill (good news: no knee pain, though the running without a sports bra and using my hands instead was comedic...but apparently pretty common). I even got to go on the special scale that tells where your weight is on your feet - and boy is my body protecting that left side. Check out the foot scans they printed for me! The one at left is barefoot, the one at right is standing on my orthotics....goes to show what orthotics do to even out your weight and impact for the foot.

After a Saucony and a Brooks (purple! damn!) candidate were rejected, I went back to the Asics. The short story is that I am textbook stick straight on the right side, no pronation (rolling at the ankle) whatsoever, and a little pronation on the left. I run in a cushioned ride, with neutral stability...and agreed with her comment that too much stability would throw off my OTHER leg. I have been there too, before (circa 2001, thanyouverymuch).

So after about an hour of this fun, including a new sock purchase (total ruse, they had clean ones to try on with), I got into a discussion about my leaky nubbins. For my Fuel Belt...they always leak or come out completely. I was eyeing a pack of green replacement nubbins, and commented too bad they didn't have a multicolor pack, and my new friend the manager of the store dug behind the counter and gave me as a get well present (I kid you not!) FOUR count them FOUR nubbins of my choosing. I got one of each :).

I think there's something to be said for nice people who make you feel better when you're down. Hats off to Big Peach!

The Wheels on the Bus Go...clang clANG CLANG

It was bound to happen, eventually.

Ideally, it would have been oh, I don't know...back in December or so. But two weeks out from the Shamrock Half Marathon is a fine time, according to fate.

After taking an easy recovery week from the 10k, you know, just to be safe, I was ready to try for a 2:10 run on Saturday. I knew it would be difficult, so planned on starting WITH Tilley then dealing with the aftermath on the second leg. I planned to do about 6 miles with her, then see how far I could get after that.

Twas not to be.

We headed out to run out Riverside and not a measley 29 minutes in, it began. That recently-all-too-familiar feeling of a large freshwater barracuda hook wrapping in - around - and through the outside of my left knee. Or perhaps the barracuda's teeth themselves. Ever optimistic, I told myself that this was just from my time off and that a good warmup and a few stretches would solve this, as it mostly had in the past.

Wrong. Dead wrong.

After a stretch at :30...at :40....at :50...I knew I would have to hang it up. I decided to end the run through the woods on Riverside at an hour on the nose....and 1.75 miles from home. After a consultation call with Jome and Rich, and then with John, I opted to walk home to "stretch it out"...I felt marginally better (physically, not emotionally)...and then started walking up the hill to the apartment.

Holyshit.

I could barely walk up the incline....having my left leg at a 10-20 degree angle was almost too much to bear. About ten minutes later (normally a 3 minute walk, tops), I was gimping up the stairs and gave John the full rundown.

After a brief exam and a ton of questions, he told me it's a condition that basically has the overdeveloped muscles of my outside and back of the leg competing with my wimpy inner muscles in the fight to control my kneecap. In this corner, the Abductors! Heavily trained, they are the favorite. In this corner, the Adductors! (hissing from the crowd) The gritty underdogs of the leg...once strong from years of horseback riding...now? Not so much.

As predicted, the Abductors are winning and my patella scoots unnaturaly to the outside. You know, about 1200 fricking times per mile. So for Saturday's lovely route by the nice trout fishermen and the bikers, for example, that's 36,632 times where my femur and patella got jiggy....at my expense. And let's not let our old friend the IT band off the hook...responsibility also goes up the line from my knee along the IT band allllllll the way to my Pal, Piriformis...which is oft to sit like a hard, bitter crabapple inside my glutes. You know the drill, piriformis tightens, IT band draws up, abductors pull, adductors can't resist, patella slides over. That old chestnut.

So where does that leave me?

I spent a day in the mental shitter - realizing this may botch my plans to go race with JoMarie and Amelia. I got deeper by realizing that the plan to do an Olympic Tri in a matter of 7 weeks is a stretch. But then I stopped the mental panic and thought, enough. Let's give it a week and see what the outcome is...the good news is with rest, ice, and some strengthening work this is fixable.

Let's just hope it's in time.