Update December 2010
Back in May, 2010 I started training for the December 2010 California International Marathon. It was an experience I'll never forget, although maybe never repeat. I was religious in my training and worked my way up to some very long solidary runs, reaching about 23 miles. I was able to taper for nearly 3 full weeks heading into the marathon and had a couple small tune-up runs with the Folsom Half Marathon a few weeks prior and the Sacramento Turkey Trot 10 days prior. I BLAZED the turkey trot, logging a time of just over 42 minutes for the 10 k race (6:55 min/mile).
The day of the marathon was P-E-R-F-E-C-T. It had been threatening rain all week but on the morning of the marathon it all cleared up and the sun started peeking through the clouds. Temps were expected to be in the 50's, just about perfect for the race. I was carbo loaded thanks to a delicious spaghetti dinner prepared by Laura the previous night.
An iPod, snacks, and energy gels filled my pockets as I waited anxiously at the starting line. When the starting horn fired I was off, along with 9,000 other hopeful runners. We surged in a hoard down a 5 lane road blocked off for us for the half mile then turned onto a long and flat two lane country road, heading West from Folsom to Sacramento. It was crowded in the first two miles with some people surging ahead and others obviously starting too far in front and falling quickly behind other runners. I was zipping along at just under 8 minutes per mile avoiding those falling off the pace.
After a few miles I settled into my race groove which kept me at about an 8 minute per mile pace. I passed the time rocking out with Jason Aldean and other country superstars, watching other runners, and soaking in the crowds. As a runner you definitely get a boost from the crowd energy and excitement of the day -- and all the nice snacks and drinks handed out by volunteers along the way.
I kept surging along, but then miles 17 through 21 were strenuous; my pace dropped off probably 20 seconds per mile and I was starting to labor. I think that because of all my training my body was able to push through this and I picked the pace back up in the final 5 miles. Running shirtless a la the Incredible Hulk I ran full sprint the last 200 meters, releasing my inner beast with war whoops and various other displays of manliness.
I crossed the line at a time I was really happy with, 3 hours, 31 minutes and 51 seconds for a 8 minute, 3 second per mile pace. Not bad for a first timer! I exceeded my own expectations when I set out to train for this thing and I will always consider it a big life accomplishment.
During the marathon, I had great support from my girlfriend, Laura, her friend Brooke, and Laura's Dad, Alan. The ladies made signs promising beer at the finish line and one particularly special sign with a "B" inside of a Superman polygon.
Will I run again??? Perhaps -- I've since been on a few short runs and one 14 mile slow run. Maybe I'll run again at the end of 2011 ... until then I'm going to devote my fitness energy to something different .... stay tuned.
Official Results:
http://www.flashresults.com/2011_Meets/CIM/searchind/
June 2010 Post:
Today I signed up for the California International Marathon (CIM)! I'm really excited for this and have been training for a couple months. Running a marathon is something I've wanted to do for a while, one of those personal accomplishments I'd better get done in my youth. It's all about the journey. The training isn't necessarily fun, but it is good. The long runs TAKE A LONG TIME; I prefer morning runs so waking up at 5:30 or 6 o'clock takes extra motivation and commitment. That feeling of accomplishment during the last miles of the run makes it all worthwhile; the adrenaline on race day should give an extra kick too.
One of my favorite things about the training is the time to just think; there's not a whole lot is happening out there at 6 in the morning except me running with my iPod. It's the perfect time to reflect on what is going on and the important people in my life. Oh, and you know I'm listening to country music when I run ... a techno country mix ... that's what I need.
My goal is to finish strong and run about an 8 minute per mile pace.
26.2 miles, one stride at a time.
Sunday, January 2, 2011
Monday, December 27, 2010
NASCAR, Bud Light, and Mullets!
Fast cars are American. Bud Light is the perfect beverage. Mullets provide the flexibility for business or party. NASCAR combines all three in a cocktail of American awesomeness.
I recently experienced my first live NASCAR race at Phoenix International Speedway for the 2010 Chase Cup. This was the 2nd to last race of the year there were three drivers in position to make a run for the Cup including Denny Hamlin in the 11 car, Jimmy Johnson in the 48, and Kevin Harvick in the 27. Me and the race crew of Reid, Trevor, Dennis, Andy, and Tim entered the race track to a cornucopia of greasy fair food -- everything from Papa Johns pizza to salted pretzels to nachos. For accompaniments there was $7 sixteen ounce "man cans" of Bud Light or Bud Regular. We grabbed as many delicious tall cans of alcoholic frivolity as our pockets and hands could muster then headed to our seats.
Part of the pre-race festivities included vintage Chevy Corvettes driving each driver around the track to salute their adoring fans. Following were were two parachuters piercing the sky with American flags and landing in the middle of the track. Next was the National Anthem and accompanying Blue Angel fighter jets buzzing the track. Finally there was the famous command of "Gentlemen, Start your Engines" (no Danica Patrick in this race!) and the track came alive.
One thing you quickly learn at a NASCAR race is the value of ear plugs. They are absolutely priceless. With 43 cars zooming by at unmuffled speeds up to 150 mph as well as crowds up to 100k, the noise is deafening. Thankfully we came prepared but if not I would have traded my two front teeth for some ear protection. From our seats 75 yards from the track the noise was so deafening that we couldn't even talk to each other; right up next to the track was like being next to a jet engine. The vibrations, sound, and speed coming off the track were spectacular; it's something you really need to experience in person to have an appreciation for.
The cars whipped around the track with Denny Hamlin, Carl Edwards, and Kyle Busch taking turns at the front. Denny led for 190 of the 312 laps; however Denny and teammate Kyle Busch made an ill-fated fuel and tire stop around lap 300 when all the other drivers stayed out on the track. Denny and Kyle were unable to make their way back to the front as the other cars conserved fuel and tires to the finish line. It was a risk that didn't pan out; poor job by their race teams. Jimmy Johnson gained valuable Chase Cup points and would overtake Denny for the Chase Cup at last race of the year the following weekend for his fifth consecutive championship. Poor Denny! Lucky Jimmy!
We hung around the track bar for hours after the race with hundreds of other race fans. Country music blazed from the sound system and Bud Light man cans were again the drink of choice. We met a man who must've been Don Mattingly's twin whose wife loved Reid's Kyle Busch "Pedigree Dog Food" shirt so much that Reid gave it to her right off his back.
Whenever you feel like American is slipping, head to a track and take in some gasoline fumes, burning rubber, and the sound of stock cars. You will be reassured that the simple, hardworking folks of this nation are still among us, camouflaged in their mesh trucker hats and long mullet locks.
Infineon Raceways in 2011!
I recently experienced my first live NASCAR race at Phoenix International Speedway for the 2010 Chase Cup. This was the 2nd to last race of the year there were three drivers in position to make a run for the Cup including Denny Hamlin in the 11 car, Jimmy Johnson in the 48, and Kevin Harvick in the 27. Me and the race crew of Reid, Trevor, Dennis, Andy, and Tim entered the race track to a cornucopia of greasy fair food -- everything from Papa Johns pizza to salted pretzels to nachos. For accompaniments there was $7 sixteen ounce "man cans" of Bud Light or Bud Regular. We grabbed as many delicious tall cans of alcoholic frivolity as our pockets and hands could muster then headed to our seats.
Part of the pre-race festivities included vintage Chevy Corvettes driving each driver around the track to salute their adoring fans. Following were were two parachuters piercing the sky with American flags and landing in the middle of the track. Next was the National Anthem and accompanying Blue Angel fighter jets buzzing the track. Finally there was the famous command of "Gentlemen, Start your Engines" (no Danica Patrick in this race!) and the track came alive.
One thing you quickly learn at a NASCAR race is the value of ear plugs. They are absolutely priceless. With 43 cars zooming by at unmuffled speeds up to 150 mph as well as crowds up to 100k, the noise is deafening. Thankfully we came prepared but if not I would have traded my two front teeth for some ear protection. From our seats 75 yards from the track the noise was so deafening that we couldn't even talk to each other; right up next to the track was like being next to a jet engine. The vibrations, sound, and speed coming off the track were spectacular; it's something you really need to experience in person to have an appreciation for.
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I wanna go fast! |
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Get me 1 more Bud Light! |
Whenever you feel like American is slipping, head to a track and take in some gasoline fumes, burning rubber, and the sound of stock cars. You will be reassured that the simple, hardworking folks of this nation are still among us, camouflaged in their mesh trucker hats and long mullet locks.
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My Pit Crew ... refueling! |
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Adventures in Utah -- Part II -- ZION
Zion blew me away. If you're anything like me maybe you've never even heard of Zion National Park in southern Utah. If you haven't, get in a car, take a train, ride your bicycle, do anything to get there! Zion is the definition of epic; one of the most stunning National Parks I have ever been to.
As you drive towards the National Park, you start to see little teasing glimpses of what Zion is hiding behind it's canyon walls. Gene and I arrived the evening after our grueling St. George mountain biking adventure. We refueled with some pizza and frozen yogurt and sought out lodging. The hotels were expensive and paid camping spots booked. Luckily there is some Bureau of Land Management (BLM) land a few miles outside of Zion which is undeveloped yet free. Free is perfect. We headed there and Mark, "Doc Awesome", met us shortly after dark. We spent the night under the stars in our sleeping bags; glorious. We slept with the Milky Way painted across the sky on the doorstep of Zion.
In the morning we rounded up all the necessary gear which included all the traditional rock climbing items (ropes, harnesses, belay devices) as well as wetsuits, hiking shoes, and helmets. It was a beautiful day at Zion with sun and temperatures expected in the 80's. We rode the Park bus into the Canyon and started from the Weeping Rock Trailhead towards Echo Canyon. From the trailhead we blitzed up switchbacks on the East Rim Trail for about 4 miles.
Amigos ready for Canyoneering at the Weeping Rock Trailhead |
Views from the East Rim Trail |
We fueled up with a tasty lunch of salami & havarti sandwiches as well as gummy worms at the drop-in point for Echo Canyon while switching from our hiking gear to the canyoneering gear, including the wet suits & harnesses over the wet suits. Ridiculous but necessary for our upcoming adventure.
Look at Mark's Smile -- "Canyoneering Rocks!" |
We dropped into the narrow canyon, utilizing our climbing gear and splashing through icy cold puddles at the bottom of the canyon. As we proceeded the canyon walls stretched higher and higher above us and at spots the canyon was about 8 ft. wide and over a hundred feet tall. Sunlight never hit the bottom of the dark canyon, keeping the water and air temperature very cold; hence the wet suits. We rappelled down 6-7 drop offs where when there is water flowing in the canyon would have been waterfall to pool drops. In the dry summer conditions these drops were from ledge to icy, murky, pools of water. With the water so murky we couldn't predict the depth of the water so I was often the crash test dummy. We came to this decision as we needed Mark at the top to take care of the climbing ropes and Gene's only swimming stroke is the doggy paddle / sink to the bottom.
Brrrrrrrrrrrr! |
Welcome to my office! |
Eddie |
After three hours of canyoneering the canyon walls began to subside and we found ourselves an opportunity to escape back to the East Rim Trail. We swapped gear once again and made our way back down to the road.
Celebrating with a beer and tasty food, Gene and I bid farewell to Mark; he was heading back to Salt Lake City to meet his Dad early the following morning. Gene and I went back to the friendly confines of the BLM land and spent another night under the stars; we had decided to hike Angel's Landing in the morning.
Angels Landing was breathtaking. The first 2 miles up were grueling switchbacks; heaps of elevation were put under our boots. Gene and I reached a ridge which stretched for another 3/4 mile to an outcropping called 'Angels Landing'. Some rock scrambling ensured with drops of 1000 ft on one side and 1300 ft on the other. Two weeks after our hike the forest service was closing the upper portion of this hike to make it safer. I highly recommend this hike, especially for those who are not afraid of heights. At the end of the hike you make it to a nice place to have a small lunch and get amazing views up and down Zion. If I were an Angel, this is indeed where I would choose to land in Zion.
An afternoon in the Cesar's Sports Book in Las Vegas split up our drive back home. Another good adventure in the books.
View from Angels Landing |
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Wow |
Ridiculous Views |
Labels:
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breathtaking,
canyoneering,
friends,
hiking,
Zion
Friday, December 10, 2010
Adventures in Utah -- Part I -- Mountain Biking
For our Summer 2010 adventure, Gene and I decided to do a road trip to the natural beauties of Southern Utah. We planned to go mountain biking in the St. George area then rendezvous with a friend of mine, Mark "Doc Awesome", at Zion National Park for a unique and very modern adventure called canyoneering.
The trip began rather uneventful with me flying into Burbank late on a Wednesday evening in early September. I saw for the first time Gene's recently-acquired condo in Pasadena -- baller! Although I must say, he has a pink couch (questionable!) and a life-sized poster of "Edward" from Twilight (super-questionable!)! We got some ZZZ's and woke up early to make our way to St. George, a good 6 hour drive away.
Driving east through Southern California leaves a lot to be desired. We drove past the non-operational biggest thermometer in the world and stopped at In-N-Out for a bite. We crossed the Nevada border (ho-hum), drove through Vegas WITHOUT stopping, and pit-stopped in Mesquite, NV to satisfy Gene's gambling urge. I played for 15 minutes at the craps table and made $22. Gene lost maybe $20 because he refused to bet on my rolls and I dominated!
We continued to St. George, Utah and rented our full-suspension mountain bikes. At the bike shop, they meticulously went over every scratch on the bikes as we would be responsible for any damages, which, knowing us, were likely. Gene really hit it off with the rental guy, which is important for later in the story. We had dinner, checked into a dingy $40 hotel room, and went to Chili's for a celebratory beverage. This is was where Gene made his first mistake -- he ordered the uber-salty, dinner-sized queso and chips. I'd imagine there were 17 zillion milligrams of sodium in that dish and I don't think Gene peed the rest of the trip -- ie. SALTY!
We were informed that "Happy Hour" does NOT exist in Utah, or at least in St. George. Some other nuggets of alcohol-related Utah wisdom -- you can't order a shot and a beer at the same time in Utah and any beer from outside Utah (imported) is under 4.0% alcohol content; local beers aren't required to meet this restriction. Gene amazingly finished his queso and we were off to get some sleep; we had a big day of mountain biking ahead of us in the morning.
In the morning, we woke up and packed up our things, including putting the mountain bikes on Gene's bike rack on the back of his car. I secured my bike first, then Gene secured his. The bike rack is one of those which sits on the back of a sedan so the bikes are kind of handing off the trunk area (hint -- important info for later!) Consulting with the bike shop rental guy on the previous day led us to decide to mountain bike the Gooseberry area, ~1 hour outside of St. George. We were halfway to Gooseberry when Gene noticed his bike, on the outside rack position, was becoming loose. He nonchalantly pulled over and tightened the straps. We should have took this as a bigger sign of danger.
About 5 miles further down the highway, going 60 miles per hour, we suddenly felt the car suspension shift and heard a faint crash of rubber and metal on the roadway below. Looking back behind us, I saw Gene's rented bike turning handlebars over seat, crashing on the road below and skidding horribly on the asphalt. Gene pulled over immediately and began chasing after his bike to get to it before any vehicles ran it over. There was light traffic on the road and as Gene approached the bike; it was sitting in the lane of traffic we were travelling in with a Semi truck approaching. In the oncoming lane of traffic was a RV; the RV and semi at present speeds were destined to meet at Gene's partially mangled bike. The semi truck would have nowhere to go but over the bike, crushing it. Luckily, the truck driver spotted Gene's bike and/or Gene running towards it and slowed down in time to let the RV pass then went into the other lane of traffic to bypass the $1500 Specialized bicycle. Quickly, Gene retrieved the bike from the road and lugged it to the shoulder; the wheels no longer rolled and obviously unridable. The damage included a front wheel which twisted like an elliptical pretzel, asphalt-shaved shifters, ripped back seat, and various other scratches and bruises. Our only option was to put the bike back on the rack and drive back to the bike shop which was just opening for the morning.
Notice that there is no shifter in the pictures below and the wheel is all whacked out.
For the afternoon we decided to head out to the Stucki Springs area (without much of a detailed plan or map). We hit the "Three Fingers of Death" and "Acid Drops" in the map above and then started out on a large loop called the Bearclaw Poppy Trail. It was a long trail and took us very far away from the car. I was getting tired and starting to run low on water and was out of food. Not to mention that my butt was hurting from the 4 hours of the seat jabbing into it. Gene was also nearly out of water and it was maybe 3 PM; we needed to return the bikes by 6 PM so we started to make our way back, continuing on the loop. Unluckily the trail ceased being easy to follow and the way back to the car was blocked by numerous ridges. Trails criss-crossed all over the place and we were very weary from already 25 miles or riding or so. We tried one route which dead-ended in a narrowing river canyon with impassable boulders. We tried another similar looking escape and yet again were turned back. I was starting to worry. I had my phone but no cell phone service and no warm clothes or gear for a night on the desert floor. I was out of water and there was no water in sight. We tried another trail which went nearly vertical up the side of a ridge, pushing the bikes up ahead of us. If this didn't provide a way out then I'd have to cuddle with Gene for warmth that night. To our relief, we made it to the top and saw a path back to the car. I was exhausted but still had a ways to go. We made out way downhill the rest of the way to the vehicle and returned the bikes.
Celebratory with burgers from "Five Guys Burgers" (not as good as I-N-O) were obtained then Gene and I headed towards Part II of our Utah Adventure -- we were pointed towards Zion to meet Doc Awesome and recover in time for the next adventure ...
More pictures on my Picasa as well.
The trip began rather uneventful with me flying into Burbank late on a Wednesday evening in early September. I saw for the first time Gene's recently-acquired condo in Pasadena -- baller! Although I must say, he has a pink couch (questionable!) and a life-sized poster of "Edward" from Twilight (super-questionable!)! We got some ZZZ's and woke up early to make our way to St. George, a good 6 hour drive away.
Driving east through Southern California leaves a lot to be desired. We drove past the non-operational biggest thermometer in the world and stopped at In-N-Out for a bite. We crossed the Nevada border (ho-hum), drove through Vegas WITHOUT stopping, and pit-stopped in Mesquite, NV to satisfy Gene's gambling urge. I played for 15 minutes at the craps table and made $22. Gene lost maybe $20 because he refused to bet on my rolls and I dominated!
We continued to St. George, Utah and rented our full-suspension mountain bikes. At the bike shop, they meticulously went over every scratch on the bikes as we would be responsible for any damages, which, knowing us, were likely. Gene really hit it off with the rental guy, which is important for later in the story. We had dinner, checked into a dingy $40 hotel room, and went to Chili's for a celebratory beverage. This is was where Gene made his first mistake -- he ordered the uber-salty, dinner-sized queso and chips. I'd imagine there were 17 zillion milligrams of sodium in that dish and I don't think Gene peed the rest of the trip -- ie. SALTY!
We were informed that "Happy Hour" does NOT exist in Utah, or at least in St. George. Some other nuggets of alcohol-related Utah wisdom -- you can't order a shot and a beer at the same time in Utah and any beer from outside Utah (imported) is under 4.0% alcohol content; local beers aren't required to meet this restriction. Gene amazingly finished his queso and we were off to get some sleep; we had a big day of mountain biking ahead of us in the morning.
In the morning, we woke up and packed up our things, including putting the mountain bikes on Gene's bike rack on the back of his car. I secured my bike first, then Gene secured his. The bike rack is one of those which sits on the back of a sedan so the bikes are kind of handing off the trunk area (hint -- important info for later!) Consulting with the bike shop rental guy on the previous day led us to decide to mountain bike the Gooseberry area, ~1 hour outside of St. George. We were halfway to Gooseberry when Gene noticed his bike, on the outside rack position, was becoming loose. He nonchalantly pulled over and tightened the straps. We should have took this as a bigger sign of danger.
About 5 miles further down the highway, going 60 miles per hour, we suddenly felt the car suspension shift and heard a faint crash of rubber and metal on the roadway below. Looking back behind us, I saw Gene's rented bike turning handlebars over seat, crashing on the road below and skidding horribly on the asphalt. Gene pulled over immediately and began chasing after his bike to get to it before any vehicles ran it over. There was light traffic on the road and as Gene approached the bike; it was sitting in the lane of traffic we were travelling in with a Semi truck approaching. In the oncoming lane of traffic was a RV; the RV and semi at present speeds were destined to meet at Gene's partially mangled bike. The semi truck would have nowhere to go but over the bike, crushing it. Luckily, the truck driver spotted Gene's bike and/or Gene running towards it and slowed down in time to let the RV pass then went into the other lane of traffic to bypass the $1500 Specialized bicycle. Quickly, Gene retrieved the bike from the road and lugged it to the shoulder; the wheels no longer rolled and obviously unridable. The damage included a front wheel which twisted like an elliptical pretzel, asphalt-shaved shifters, ripped back seat, and various other scratches and bruises. Our only option was to put the bike back on the rack and drive back to the bike shop which was just opening for the morning.
Notice that there is no shifter in the pictures below and the wheel is all whacked out.
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Bicycle Damage #1 |
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Bicycle Damage #2 |
Gene was on the hook for some pricey damages. Luckily, the bike shop rental guy Gene hit it off with was working again; he was surprised to see us. Gene showed him the badly damaged bike; bike guy took down the damage and went inside to get an estimate from the boss. They determined that frame, suspension, crank, pedals, forks, back tire, and seat were OK it was just the front wheel and shifters which needed replacing. They cut Gene a super deal (who knows why) and only charged him $160 or so for the damages and gave us another bike to destroy; this time Gene got a woman's bike as they were out of the men's -- fair punishment in my opinion!
We weren't going to let a little roadway accident deter us. With a few hours wasted and time at a premium we changed our plan and decided to mountain bike in the Green Valley / Stucki Springs area just a few miles from St. George.
Finally, we were in the saddles of our bikes and climbing rather large and rocky hills. The terrain was very Southern Utah (high desert) with few trees and great vistas. We did a awesome up and down this towering ridge where Gene popped his back tire pretty badly, through the sidewall. We repaired it with our only extra tube, however the tube when fully inflated was bulging out of dime-sized hole in the tire sidewall. We then repaired this with my energy-gel wrapper (no other tools available) by placing it between the tube and inside sidewall of the tire. Surprisingly, this actually worked rather well and allowed Gene to fully inflate the tube. One more popped tire and we were headed back; it was still before noon!
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Gene fixing his flat |
We hit some high-speed downhill going off the trail and over big boulders; quite a rush. Gene is a pretty accomplished mountain biker and he showed me some techniques to go up and down large gaps and boulders. We made it back to the car in time to grab a bite to eat and refill our water. It was very hot in the desert and we were going through water fast. We saw some great landscapes on this ride and had a really good time navigating the trails, hills, and rocks.
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Green Valley Area |
Celebratory with burgers from "Five Guys Burgers" (not as good as I-N-O) were obtained then Gene and I headed towards Part II of our Utah Adventure -- we were pointed towards Zion to meet Doc Awesome and recover in time for the next adventure ...
More pictures on my Picasa as well.
Labels:
adventure,
desert,
disaster,
lost,
mountain biking
Friday, October 8, 2010
Mt. Shasta Summit
Well, it's been over a year since Gene "Yo-Yo" and I achieved the summit of Mt. Shasta in Northern California, but it's still time to write about it in the blog. Better late than never!
For the Summer of '09, Gene and I decided to climb Mt. Shasta. Previously, I believe it was the Summer of '04, we summitted Mt. Rainier. Shasta is very similar to Rainier, reaching it's apex at 14,179 feet; Rainier is 14,410. 250 feet difference -- no big deal for us mountainous manly-men.
We left ridiculously early from Folsom on a Thursday morning and made it to the town of Mt. Shasta at a reasonable time in the early afternoon. We grabbed our permits and some valuable information from the Ranger's office in town and were on our way, headed up Shasta's foothills to the Bunny Flats Trailhead.
From the trailhead you could look up and see the route and the summit -- a little daunting but nonetheless a sight to see. The hike starts out fairly easy through some treed terrain and up to a ranger's outpost. Then, leading up to more difficult terrain is a boulder staircase. After this, it's all uphill and quite steep. It was a warm day and Yo-Yo and I were making good progress yet gasping for air. I just remember being exhausted on this part of the hike and going to my happy place. It's hard to go to your happy place with a 40 pound pack on, dreadingly steep terrain, and 80 degree temps. The summit continuously beckoned, urging us on.
At last, after perhaps 5 hours of struggle, we made it to the intermediate stop, just on the edge of a glacier. Many others were camped as we would; we would all attack the summit in the morning. Gene and I had some grub, melted water, set up the camp, and threw our customary nerf football. We slept with the howling wind for a few hours then awoke and were of with our headlamps, crampons, and day packs for our summit attempt. Our Rainier experience gave us the wisdom to get out of camp early; we were the first to break snow.
Being the first group out of camp in the darkness, we relied heavily on the headlamps. We ascended a broad snowfield which was very steep without landmarks to navigate. Gene and I had a good pace and after an hour or so noticed other headlamps just leaving camp, on our trail. We were shooting for a crease in the red banks to ascend; unfortunately we missed by a half mile or so. To get back on track, we'd have to descend or continue on a more dangerous route along a ridge buttressed by a glacier. What to do? What to do? We decided try the ridge route, which would have worked out quite well if it were not for some gymnast-like moves we had to make to stay along the ridge and out of the bowels of the glacier. I am writing this blog though, so we made it. After the red banks, we continued the still steep ascent during the sunrise. A few more hours of climbing and some howling wind on the ascent and the summit was in sight. Gene and I were still ahead of the crowds and we about to be first to the summit until some super-guy came roaring up from a different route on the other side of the mountain to steal our glory!
We snapped some photos on the top and of course had our victory beers.
For the Summer of '09, Gene and I decided to climb Mt. Shasta. Previously, I believe it was the Summer of '04, we summitted Mt. Rainier. Shasta is very similar to Rainier, reaching it's apex at 14,179 feet; Rainier is 14,410. 250 feet difference -- no big deal for us mountainous manly-men.
We left ridiculously early from Folsom on a Thursday morning and made it to the town of Mt. Shasta at a reasonable time in the early afternoon. We grabbed our permits and some valuable information from the Ranger's office in town and were on our way, headed up Shasta's foothills to the Bunny Flats Trailhead.
From the trailhead you could look up and see the route and the summit -- a little daunting but nonetheless a sight to see. The hike starts out fairly easy through some treed terrain and up to a ranger's outpost. Then, leading up to more difficult terrain is a boulder staircase. After this, it's all uphill and quite steep. It was a warm day and Yo-Yo and I were making good progress yet gasping for air. I just remember being exhausted on this part of the hike and going to my happy place. It's hard to go to your happy place with a 40 pound pack on, dreadingly steep terrain, and 80 degree temps. The summit continuously beckoned, urging us on.
At last, after perhaps 5 hours of struggle, we made it to the intermediate stop, just on the edge of a glacier. Many others were camped as we would; we would all attack the summit in the morning. Gene and I had some grub, melted water, set up the camp, and threw our customary nerf football. We slept with the howling wind for a few hours then awoke and were of with our headlamps, crampons, and day packs for our summit attempt. Our Rainier experience gave us the wisdom to get out of camp early; we were the first to break snow.
Being the first group out of camp in the darkness, we relied heavily on the headlamps. We ascended a broad snowfield which was very steep without landmarks to navigate. Gene and I had a good pace and after an hour or so noticed other headlamps just leaving camp, on our trail. We were shooting for a crease in the red banks to ascend; unfortunately we missed by a half mile or so. To get back on track, we'd have to descend or continue on a more dangerous route along a ridge buttressed by a glacier. What to do? What to do? We decided try the ridge route, which would have worked out quite well if it were not for some gymnast-like moves we had to make to stay along the ridge and out of the bowels of the glacier. I am writing this blog though, so we made it. After the red banks, we continued the still steep ascent during the sunrise. A few more hours of climbing and some howling wind on the ascent and the summit was in sight. Gene and I were still ahead of the crowds and we about to be first to the summit until some super-guy came roaring up from a different route on the other side of the mountain to steal our glory!
We snapped some photos on the top and of course had our victory beers.
With our discovery of the glissading technique, the way down was fast and furious. Glissading is basically a fancy term for sliding down the mountain on the snow while using your crampons and ice axe to control your speed. This was pretty awesome and really made the descent to the intermediate camp really fast. On the way down there was an incident with a lady who was learning to glissade. I don't know what was going through her head but it wasn't good. As she glissaded she was not controlling her speed. She gained speed quickly and within a few seconds was out of control heading straight down the glacier to certain injury. A good nearby good samaratin saw the situation and sprinted to intercept her and tackled her, arresting her slide. In the process of the rescue the rescuer's crampons lacerated the glissader's leg which was a serious injury at 12,000 ft. We later learned that the rangers hiked up to assist and get the injured lady off the mountain. Don't underestimate the dangers of climbing and descending the mountain.
Gene and I descended safely and went back to the town of Mt. Shasta to enjoy a tasty hamburger. Another summit in the bag. Victory.
Monday, August 9, 2010
Best Man Toast
Giving a Best Man Toast can be one of the most anxiety-injecting and stressful events in a young man's life. I've given two such toasts and luckily both have gone well. I had so many compliments on my latest toast for my brother Reid and wife Holly's wedding that I thought I'd share the script. My method is to write up a script and practice it a few times like that, but then go to the notecard approach and not try to follow the script at all. That worked really well as I was able to deviate from the script when needed and get more crowd interaction (highly underrated aspect of giving toasts).
My actual toast went better than any of my practices, and probably the best compliment I got that it was "Razzle Dazzle," from my bro JD. :) I'm just happy to have added something good to the wedding; it was a great day. Without further ado, here it is (I wish I had it on video ...).
My actual toast went better than any of my practices, and probably the best compliment I got that it was "Razzle Dazzle," from my bro JD. :) I'm just happy to have added something good to the wedding; it was a great day. Without further ado, here it is (I wish I had it on video ...).
"Hello Everyone! For those of you who don't know me, I'm Brent, Reid's older, more dashing brother. We're going to do a few toasts here, so make sure you have your glasses filled with your favorite beverages. First off, I wanted to thank everyone for making today possible, including Mom and Dad who did an amazing job with the landscaping and a thousand other tasks. Holly's Dad Ted helped with all the party setup and is a mastermind at hanging lights. Lynn provided an amazing rehearsal dinner with her now famous lasagna. Thank you Aunt Bonnie, Aunt Heidi, and helpers for the catering and service today. And, also VERY IMPORTANTLY we need to give a little pre thank-you the DJ and bartenders for keeping this party going all night long – no pressure guys!
Reid and I are only 16 months and 3 inches apart. We grew up very close. Going through all the old photo albums this week it reminded me that we were literally always together; rarely is there a photo with just the one of us. I also noticed that Reid has 3 classic poses, and ONLY three. In classic pose #1, Reid give the camera a “why the hell are you taking a picture of me look.” Classic pose #2 is Reid showing off his belly. Classic pose #3 is the most priceless with Reid having about a gallon of drool on the chest of his shirt and some more drool coming off his chin. Even though Reid wasn't the most photogenic we grew up together and became best friends and sometimes biggest rivals.
I was always grateful that Reid was able to keep Mom and Dad's attention most of the time with all kinds of stunts. He was always the more mischievous and wild one while I was able to sit back and be entertained. Inevitably, Mom and Dad would need to punish us boys to get our attention. Punishing Reid was nearly impossible, so Mom and Dad had to come up with some creative punishment. Dad made this cat of nine tails type device with a wooden handle and leather straps coming off it which I thought was pretty intimidating ... Reid on the other hand would get a couple swats with it and laugh the entire time. Mom and Dad needed to come up with even more creative ways to get our attention. Reid and I were about 11 and 12 years old one day when we were probably telling each other just how much we enjoyed each other’s company. Mom must’ve had a bad day because she had a short fuse; she came up with the most creative and effective punishment yet. Mom decided the best punishment would be to have us hold hands, look each other in the eyes, and tell each other loved each other. I don't think we performed the act admirably enough because then Mom took it to the next level … I’m sorry to say Holly that you were not Reid’s first kiss because Mom made us kiss ... on the lips. I'm glad to see that Reid has found someone who enjoys kissing him on a daily basis because I sure didn't.
All kidding aside, Reid is a great man and has been a awesome brother to me and friend to so many of us. Some of his greatest strengths are his positive attitude, charisma, and loyalty. He makes the people around him happy and in the end that is what makes him great. The fact that is becoming a NASCAR fan is just an added bonus for Holly.
All the Beros are excited to welcome Holly and her family into our family. I'd imagine especially my Mom who finally will have a girl around after more than 25 years of just boys. JD and I get a cool new sister who has to set us up with all her girlfriends. :) We know that Holly is committed and dedicated after a nearly decade-long relationship with Reid, well and maybe a sucker for punishment too. :) And, just because she is beautiful and funny doesn't mean that she is a prissy girl. Just a couple days ago I was watching Holly use the table saw ... it wasn't even a big deal to her. I was impressed but more so scared she was going to cut a finger off just days before the wedding. Apparently she's taken a power tools class ... looks like my Dad will finally have someone who can help him out with all his projects.
I am very excited for Reid and Holly. I know that the two of them are a great match for one another, just wait 'til they get out on the dance floor. Let's all raise our glasses to Reid and Holly and wish them a happy marriage and prosperity. To Reid and Holly, Cheers!"
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Ode to the Smart Phone
Smart phone, oh Smart phone
How you change my every day
Unlimited information just a touch away
Navigation, internet, SMS,
E-mail, Pandora, jokes featuring Chuck Norris!
The HTC Evo has a killer app
A kickstand which makes viewing a snap
You streamed World Cup straight to the pool
8 megapixel camera everywhere I go
Video chat is weird but fun
Smart phone, oh Smart phone
This rhyme is now done!
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