Boys, Sports and Family Updates.

In a view of what things will be like for Cheryl and I in the future, Jon and Gabe have been very busy with their sports. Gabe chose to play basketball this winter and had a blast with his team.

They played a bunch of games around the area in the YMCA system. It was fun to see him try something ENTIRELY new, and have fun at it. He took to the sport well and has voiced interest in continuing next season.

Now we are on to baseball season. Gabe is on the Defenders this year with a bunch of his buddies, his first year in machine-pitch. He is still Gabe and at times lives in his own little world out there in right field. But he loves the socializing and the sunflower seeds.

His skills are improving a lot and his game is getting better. His throws are more accurate and he is hitting and catching. Not to mention cheering his team on with appropriate rally cap poses. Jon is full on in kid-pitch with a great team of boys who he has played ball with for a couple seasons. The Coaches are familiar too so the team atmosphere is really fun, with a flavor of seriousness. This season marks the true beginning of real baseball with hits, plays, outs, base stealing and a small measure of strategy. The games are very exciting and so very much fun towatch. The last game was a momentous victory over an undefeated team with a spectacular game winning steal of home. Jon is one of the faster runners and does a gret job on base. He also has a great arm and has made some fantastic throws from center field.

Cheryl's photo season has ramped up as she is scheduling senior and family portraits like crazy. The good weather reminds folks it's time and the procrastinating seniors are scrambling. Her work is still steady at Summit Rehab., in Sultan.

I started my new job at Edmonds Fire Department reporting for duty last Friday morning at 0800. I will spend next week in orientation and gear fitting and then be off to the Academy Wednesday night. The two other probational firefighters are a bit younger than me (both 23) but we are getting to know each other well and the fit is good. The academy is in North Bend, WA near my folks house. The official start date is May 11 but we are getting a jump on it with a few days of orientation. Beau and Kyle, my fellow probys, are both ripe out of the Marines with four years of duty. They will be able to help me with the para-military atmosphere of the academy and I will be able to help them with the copious amount of firefighting material we will be ingesting in the 12 week process. Kyle has no fire experience and Beau has aircraft "crash" fire training, both are already certified EMTs. It is going to be very difficult and, oh, so much fun.

I will be doing as much photography at the academy as possible and posting as such. I pray this wonderful SUNNY western Washington day finds you all well.

Tony

Tony is a Firefighter, almost!

During the last two months all the pieces fell into place for me to start testing and applying for Firefighting jobs in the Puget Sound region. This has been a simmering dream of mine for many years but one I have not aggressively pursued. I completed the computer based "written" test and passed the physical CPAT test. My options of departments were limited due to the increasingly stringent application requirements. It seems a lot of people are looking for jobs. With no expectations, I applied to the Edmonds, East Pierce and Mountlake Terrace Fire Departments.

Two weeks ago I received and invitation to interview with Edmonds Fire Department. The initial interview went very well and I was pleased with my performance. I was incredibly surprised when the Assistant Chief called to invite me back for a Chief's Interview, a "get to know ya" as he described it. That call was last Monday the interview would be Thursday. I crammed in a few sessions of practice in the two days I had to prepare. What I expected was a sit down discussion, boy was I wrong. The interview was a continuation of the prior interview with harder and more pointed questions. It was nerve wracking and difficult, but I made it through without losing my composure. I was informed the selection would be made by Friday. I didn't expect to continue as this was first interview in a couple years, and it is rare to get an offer without the usual 3-5 years of interviewing and testing. I was ill-prepared for the news I received at 3:30 last Friday.

The Assistant Chief called our home, Cheryl called me at track practice, I called the Assistant Chief, he was in a meeting and said he would call back. THE LONGEST HALF HOUR EVER passed and the call came in. "We would like to make a contingent job offer." As he said it his cell phone began to break up making distorted digital voice sounds. I asked him to repeat his last statement explaining his phone was breaking up, he laughed at the timing and repeated his statement.

It was official and I was stunned. Pending the physical and psych evals, Recruit Academy and 9 months of probational fire work I will be offered a badge as a Firefighter with the Edmonds Fire Department. It is still hard to believe the process went so quickly. There is a lot of work to be done prior to May 1 at which time I will report for duty, and the Academy begins on May 8.

Thanks to all for your prayers, thoughts and support. It has been a startling fast process covered in prayer. I appreciate all of you and I know Cheryl will appreciate all the help in the next twelve months.

Thanks again, Tony

P.S. I'm in the yellow helmet and yellow dry suit.

The Desert 100 and Iron Man Poker Run

April 4-5, 2009. Warfare and adventure, two powerful instincts that still exist in our DNA. Some truly are warriors, and serve as such, most are not but we still have the drive from deep within urging us to seek out something to fill the desire to strive to be a part of something bigger than ourselves. For some it is found in true adventure for some it is found in competition and still others find it in the mind. For the entrants of this event it is discovered way out in the sage desert atop specially designed motorcycles. The Desert 100, put on by the Stumpjumpers, a local off-road motorcycle club, is a collection of family oriented events held annually in the desert of central Eastern Washington. The event includes a Family Poker Run, an Iron Man Poker run, junior races and the top billing Desert 100. The rides vary in length and difficulty culminating in the 100 mile endurance test-piece. I was there as an endurance athlete to test myself in a new arena. Up to the day of the ride I had not ridden a motorcycle loner than an hour or so. But what the heck it adds to the adventure quotient. My goal: to finish the Iron Man Poker Run without injury or expensive mechanical failure. I know many who have ridden out here and most have stories of crashes, breakdowns, and traumatic injuries. Trace, my riding companion, and I were scheduled to meet up with a couple other guys and make our way caravan style to Odessa. We departed Monroe a bit behind schedule and played catch-up for an hour and a half reaching Leavenworth directly behind the motor home that would be our base camp for the next few days. A quick phone call and we were connected. Our route would take us through Wenatchee, past Crescent Bar and straight to Odessa. The day was proving to be a good one. As we headed ever eastward the clouds thinned and broke allowing the warming rays of the sun to reach us. Four hours of driving brought us to our goal, the eastern Washington desert location for the event. Pulling off the highway the ever-increasing sea of motor homes, campers, tents and trailers became visible. We would become absorbed in this sea for the next two days. The terrain of this area of Eastern Washington is a high rolling plains desert dotted with rough dry sage and random trees waiting the next rain fall. The geology is volcanic. In the geologic past fissure faults opened allowing molten rock to flow over most of eastern Washington. That volcanic rock, now exposed in some areas as blocks of basalt, can be seen in road cuts and cliffs in the form of columns. The basalt adds a texture to the hills and valleys cut by the Columbia and smaller rivers. The race course, contained on a 1200+ acre private cattle ranch, takes full advantage of this unforgiving terrain as it meanders into a small river valley, ribbons in between rocky buttes and cuts across dusty plains. The atmosphere in the cow pasture turned campground was one of impending adventure. The smell of gasoline and exhaust combined in the warm air with hints of sage and cow manure. As dinner approached the first whiff of BBQ signaled the firing up of thousands of similar stoves. Meat, lots of it and in so many different forms. The din of motorcycles large and small was constant, unavoidable and surprisingly not very annoying. Small 50 and 80cc bikes buzzed around like gnats. They were in various forms of conversion as “pit-bikes” used to flit around the city of portable homes. Larger bikes being ridden for show or out of the lack of a pit-bike were also constantly zooming past. Families were everywhere, kids decked out in the latest riding gear, adults dressed similarly or just in jeans and jackets wandered about the makeshift city; all in all a comfortable “pre-war/adventure” atmosphere. We all walked down to the race headquarters and did our entry duties. The fee, $30, gets you a Poker punch card, a raffle ticket and at the end a finisher’s t-shirt. We walked up to the tent and went through the motions of entering with very little fan fare. We all received our first of five punches, representing our first playing card for our poker hand. Later the line for entries would extend into the parking area and take up to an hour to complete. Trace decided he needed a new back tire. He removed the rim and we walked down to the vendor tents to do some shopping. The bill came to $100 and he was a tad short. Borrowing a few bucks resulted in his having to give up his Ace of Spades punch card for a five of hearts. The tire was changed out by a mechanic in lighting speed; it’s amazing what you can do with the right tools. Remounted and ready to go the tire looked good on the back of Trace’s bike. We sat around talking for a few hours huddled around a heater while temperatures dropped. It’s amazing how temperatures drop at night in the desert. As the evening closed the carousing reached a crescendo around 9-10pm quickly dying down, for the most part around 11pm, as many needed to rest up for the next day’s ride. Dawn broke around 6:30 as the sun crested the far off basalt cliffs. Announcements were being made on a distant P.A. at a rider meeting, breakfast was cooking, coffee was brewing and gear was being made ready, “Race Ready!” was our tongue in cheek motto, apparently an inside joke from prior years. Riders donned protective clothing, hard shell helmets, chest plates, boots, and pads. Bikes were fueled, started, revved, checked, rechecked, restarted, re-revved and refueled in a nervous dance pointing toward a day of testing; testing of self and machine. The day started crisp as desert mornings do with a thin layer of frost, eked out of the driest of air, coating the ground. The air was cold and dry but the sun was quickly warming everything in its reach. Predictions were made and clothing was doffed and re-donned in a guess as to how hot it would be and when layers would need to be shed. The Iron Man Poker Run, the ride we had come for, is a ride of approx. 70-80 miles depending on the course; the distance is not exact and can vary annually. It is a two lap course allowing for a refueling and resting in between laps. The course opens at 7 am and closes at 1:30pm at which time the sweepers go out closing down the course and cleaning any large debris. We hit the course after a good heavy breakfast and a few cups of joe. We took our time getting on as past rides have proven the day’s ride to be over in 4-5 hours and if you leave too early the rest of the day is spent sitting around. Plus waiting a while allows the course to warm up and the faster and more anxious riders to clear out. Off we go through the starting shoot across the wide open starting area. Fine dust billows from our back tires as we head toward the narrow gate in the distant barbed wire fence. There will be several of these funnel point along the route creating various amounts of traffic. I am riding the only 1985 200cc Yamaha Big Wheel. Everyone, and I mean everyone, else is riding standard trail bikes with higher clearance, narrower tires and other features suited for exactly this type of riding. Me, not so much. My bike is not built for speed so much as climbing and touring. I will be the slow guy today. My bike attracts fair amount of attention as belonging to the un-existent “classic” division. The Family Poker ride is being held at the same time on the same course as the Iron Man ride. This make for very entertaining traffic jams when we approach the “littles” on their 50cc bikes. Everyone is friendly and courteous as we patiently wait an opportunity to pass. The Family ride veers off to avoid the steeper descents and climbs and more technical aspects of the Iron Man ride. I discover this at the finish of the first lap when I arrived back at camp 15 minutes before the rest of the group. They informed me I missed a turn at an aid station missing out on some really cool dusty climbs. Apparently, in doing so, I cut about 5 miles off my ride, oops. The first lap was a test of concentration, speed and physical endurance. My bike could not fly over the tops of the wavy “woop-de-doos” skimming along; no I had to endure every single up and down in roller coaster fashion, while maintain my speed and keeping my self on the bike. It took a bit of getting use to but I was doing well. I stopped a couple times for photos and regrouping with my waiting crew. The course has one good descent, two shallow stream crossings, mud, dirt, bushes, dust, rocks, and a few fast flat spots. It was challenging to enjoy the desert views while concentrating on staying on the bike. As I knocked off the 30 plus miles I became very comfortable on the bike. Back at the pits we shared stories of the first lap, refueled our bodies and prepped to head out for the final lap. The first lap took about 2 hours. Trace hit a rock with his foot on the way back and decided to sit out the second lap as his foot was beginning to swell. He and a few others recounted a story of an unlucky gent who became tangled in his front wheel fracturing his femur. We decided the second lap would be an individually paced adventure and made our way back to the barbed wire gate. I was determined to not skip out on the missing portion of the course this time around. So I rode carefully to the aid station and saw the turn I had missed a few hours earlier. The course had grown a bit more challenging as the bikes had chewed it up digging ruts and making the muddy parts even muddier. I was beginning to tire now 3 ½ hours into the ride. I took the turn onto the part of the course I had missed earlier and sped off to the hills. This section of the course was smooth as it wove up and over a few rolling sage covered hills. I turned a corner and spotted the first climb, a 200 foot assent up a rutted loose dirt hillside. I approach with a healthy amount of speed down shifted half way up attaining the crest victorious. My little climber bike likes this stuff. Riders were thinning out as the day continued and I had no one to share my success with, as was the case on the earlier more technical parts of the ride. Like vultures, riders would stage above and below the hard spots waiting for carnage. The second taller climb went off much the same. The course then rounded a corner and dropped to skirt a small stagnate pond then rose up a climb and headed toward a windmill. Just past the windmill was a dusty pit 200 feet long of the finest high quality particulates, the kind that puffs weightless when you walk upon them. I hit the pit fast not knowing the depth of the dust. It was substantially deeper than I had anticipated. My front tire floated for a few feet and then was swallowed by the pit. It quickly whipped to the right throwing me over the handle bars head first into the dust. What I didn’t know was that there were two other riders doing the exact same thing directly behind me, to close in fact. Their skinner tires cut through the lightweight dirt having no problem. Now the obstacle for them was me and my bike. The first rider a 300 plus pounder rode and bounced over the top of my now backwards facing bike on a collision course straight for my head. He did not have time to adjust or avoid, he ran over my head. The force of his front tire landing on the left side face piece of my helmet drove my head deep into the dust. His tire, now locked up and skidding, fit perfectly in the opening of my helmet. This resulted in the tread pattern of the tire to be scratched into the lenses of my goggles as the tire folded the goggles in half introducing a tremendous amount of dust and dirt to my eyes, mouth and ears. It took only a split second for the whole event to unfold; I was upright, I was flying, I was down and I was pile-driven. I stayed still not knowing the extent of my injuries. After a bit I wiggled my fingers and toes, or at least I hoped I was while I kept thinking, “Don’t inhale, don’t inhale, don’t inhale.” I must have been lying motionless long enough for the second rider, who avoided both of us, to stop while the first rider dumped his bike and made his way frantically to me. I slowly sat up while the amazing amount of dust fell from my helmet like sand draining from an hourglass. I was then able to take a deep breath without the danger of inhaling the dust. I kneeled in the pit assessing my situation while the two riders made it to my side. The first rider, the one who ran me over, was beside himself in fear. He thought he had killed me, or broken my neck; nope, just a slight concussion, a crushed helmet and damaged goggles. We carefully walked to the side of the course, removed my helmet and goggles and had some water from my backpack bladder. I was pretty groggy but okay. I sent them on their way and sat down for a spell. Relived I was still alive and walking they reluctantly left me there. The next few riders to approach questioned me with the universal “Are you okay?” thumbs up. I responded in like fashion and they kept going. Finally, a more concerned rider approached and stopped to help me rebuild my mess. When I started the ride I had two bags on the back rack of my bike one full of tools the other was my medical bag. Nestled snugly in between the two bags was a 22 oz aluminum bottle filled with gasoline. The bags were still connected but the fuel bottle was missing, that’s odd I thought. We searched the dust but came up empty. Hopefully no one rides over it and blows it up. He hung with me for a few minutes until we were both okay with me completing the ride. I cleared my helmet and goggle of the remaining dust, remounted and rode off at a very slow speed. I was about 15 miles out and had some tough terrain to conquer. It took a few miles to regain my confidence but I was soon moving at a speed that didn’t require me to stay to the side of the course. I limped back into camp and recounted the story to the crew who had been waiting my arrival for a while. They were glad to see me and a bit surprised at the story. I removed all my dust infused riding gear, cleaned off, sat down and had a late lunch. It had been a long day and I went to bed early. Sunday morning broke with clear skies and a bright sunrise. The mood around the trailer city was a bit more serious as rider who would be “warring” in the 100 mile race readied their gear. We joined the staging to view the spectacle. Several hundred riders listened to the day’s announcements, and then in a thunder of engines made their way up the road to the starting line. We joined the other spectators on a small hill about ¾ of a mile from the start. When the cannon blast sounded the riders ran to their bikes, fired them up and sped off. As they crested the easy rise off the ¼ mile wide starting line it reminded me of an old movie scene with attacking Indians on horseback. A few faster bikes made their way quickly to the same barbed wire gate I had ridding through yesterday. The remaining pack of riders followed in a thunderous hoard. Only two riders went down in the funnel start. They were quickly aided up and continued on their way. We departed shortly after the Desert 100 started and made our way along the four hour drive home, recounting the adventure the whole way. The helmet and goggles sit on my workbench in the garage. Do I enshrine them as war relics or do I toss them? We’ll see. By the way the bike was unscathed. So at least one of my goals was accomplished. Tony

Center of the disease universe

Salem Woods Elementary seems to have had every contagious disease converge upon it. It is the petri dish of Monroe disseminating it's goods with the help of hundreds of cute and lovable little germ carrying sponges. Or maybe it is just that time of year and, now that I am subbing regularly, considered "fresh meat". My uninitiated immune system is a literal "new guy" and is in need of a little initiation. I seem to have battled through about four rounds of bugs since the end of February. The boys and Cheryl have also fallen victim to the microscopic attackers suffering from flu-like symptoms, fevers, strep throat, and flowing of body fluids. BRING ON SUMMER!!

On to the latest and the source is questionable. I developed a fever last Thursday while just hanging out at the Sultan FD. It came with a free dose of headache and blurry vision. After a drive around town it was apparent I was unable to drive home safely. I wheeled back to the FD and requested the guys take my vitals and get an IV for hydration. Yup, 100.99 degrees. the IV helped a bit and I was able to drive home. I spent the next 20ish hours sweating off the fever. By late morning it broke and I was below 99 degrees. Good thing because I had a catering job Friday night and I was looking forward to the work. One thing was odd though, the top of my head was puffy. Kinda swollen. I had double-bonked my noggin a couple days back, nothing out of the ordinary. A double-bonk would be a scrape and then a second scrape in the exact spot removing any healing and producing a fair amount of blood and aggravation. I thought it was just the wound reacting to the fever. By the end of the day, time for the catering gig, I had a red puffy skull cap and a partially swollen face. The top of my head was red and hot. Something was not right but I was controlling the pain with Vitamin IB. Buy the next morning I looked like a different person, at least from the neck up. My head had developed into a nice round dome, losing the distinctive ridge. My eyes puffed up, my "side-burns" were bulging (see left side on photo), and my jaw was starting to change shape. I was wearing a 1/4" liquid helmet. I decided to visit the walk-in clinic to get checked out.....1 hour wait and several diseased clients later I was essentially told to "put some ice on it, take some benadryl and shake it off". The Doc was wrong. I was inclined to call my family doc at home for a 2nd and she ordered me to visit. Within seconds of walking in the door and with a complete history about the cut on my head she diagnosed me to be suffering from cellulitis. (see link) It must have entered the cut days earlier at track practice when I was doing gymnastics with the Pole vaulters in the wresting room. (Did I mention I am coaching track at Sultan HS?) She was calm but stern in stating the scrip must be filled and taken prior to leaving the pharmacy and again at minding and again at 8am. then twice a day until gone. Little did I know I was really close to developing Meningitis, GREAT! She is going to meet with the clinic doc and chat.

In other news......Baseball is in full swing and both of the boys are loving their teams. Gabe is in his first season of machine pitch and Jon is in his first season of kid pitch. This week is spring break. I will be riding in the Desert 100 Poker Run this weekend, Cheryl is staying busy with the Cascade Women's Retreat follow up and searching for the perfect 2nd hand store sale.

Here is a vid Chery's Mother emailed. It is cool, get tissues.

http://www.youtube.com/v/ervaMPt4Ha0&autoplay=1

See ya, Tony

The Perfect Chai

Okay after reading Three Cups of Tea last year I took on the "super-part time" quest of finding the perfect Chai Tea recipie, not that store bought premixed stuff. Although, if you are going for a quick instant cuppa I hear Oregon Chai is "pretty good", but I like mine better. So let's talk ingredents. For starters I found it hard to get a good high quality supplier for "rancid Yak butter" in the states. If you have read the book you'll know what I'm refering to. If not, please buy it and give it a read.

Some kind of import restriction I guess. Must be up there with the FDA restrictions on other exotic ingredients like Shark Fin Soup and Baboon Kidney Chutney. From the descriptions in the book and other such research I found the variety of spices can vary from villiage to villiage and valley to valley depending on availability. (That was a lot of v's.) But the basics remain the same. Equal parts water and milk boiled with the sugar and a spice mixture then removed from heat.

The tea, usually a variety of loose black or green tea, is added and steeps while the pot cools a bit. Most of the actual ingredents and steps are to taste and, again, depends on availability. On we go...

I found a local tea shop in Snohomish where I purchase the tea. I buy the cheapest loose leaf black tea mainly because I'm cheap and I also you add a lot of milk, sugar and spices. I also use a basic Mirik Valley black I found here in town. Specialteas.com sells some really great tea but you're gunna pay for it.

Spices. I have played with a large variety. Here they are: cardamom, cinnamon, nutmeg, ginger, allspice, coriander, black and white pepper, mace, cloves and dried vanilla bean.

I started with the basic Cardomom, cinnamon, and pepper and then played with it to add and vary the spices. I never had a cup that was bad but as I tweaked the mixture I discovered a wide vaiety of flavors. Here is where I am:

2T cardamom, 2T cinnamon, 1 T nutmeg/ginger/allspice/coriander/cloves, 1t blk. pepper/mace, 1/2t white pepper. Mix until blended evenly. Combine 3T of the spice mixture to 1C sugar (White, Raw, whatever.). This gives you the base.

Now the milk and water. Whole milk is the best giving the finished product a creamer consistancy but 2% seems to appeal to most. Depending on how much you want to make, mix equal parts milk and water and heat to just about a boil. I usually do 2C water and 2C milk. I add the sugar/spice mixture at a ratio of 3T per 1 cup of liquid early and stir almost continually to prevent burning. Make more than you need and cool the rest for later consuption, it's good chilled or added to coffee as a creamer. Back to the brewing..........once hot (steaming well) toss in the tea per brewing suggestions, usually 2t per 8oz liquid. Steep up to 5 mins and strain to serve. I have found using the ground spices tends to develop a sludge at the bottom of the cup if you don't strain with a fine metal mesh coffee filter, the gold coated kind, you will have a goo at the bottom of your cup. I strongly suggest using the filter. Enjoy.

Tony

An old photo resurfaces and a new photo is taken.

I found this photo of Gabe taken in SeaTac airport a few years back. Anyone recognize the man under the Mohawk? We were en route to Reno when "the dude with the really cool haircut" appeared and Gabe just walked up to him and yelled out, "Mister, I really love your hair!" They ended up talking about Gabe's loose tooth, Gabe's brother and our pending trip to Lake Tahoe. It was a joy to watch the interchange.

Click here to go to the link for the Monroe Monitor, our local paper. You may need to click on the "read story" link to see the photo. I am the second guy from the right in the yellow and purple. "One of these things is not like the others..." Were were hiking out on Mann Road to investigate two men stuck on a pick up truck in the waters. they were about a mile from where this photo was taken. Seven of us (two behind photographer) ended up hiking out a mile or so, carrying the kayaks, to the area of road that was covered by about 3 1/2 feet of water. The brand new silver pick up was submerged half way up the grill in the cold water after the driver though he could make it through the water, wrong. He attempted what appeared to be a speed crossing and ended up hydroplaning half way across the 200 foot wide expanse of water covered road. Amazing! His vehicle drifted to a stop at a perfect 90 degree angle to the road. We arrived to find the two men in the bed of the truck in hip boots having a cigarette. Just as we arrived the Sheriff's helicopter also arrived but was unable to assist due to the power lines directly above the truck. We floated the kayaks in, loaded they up and floated them out, then proceeded to walk with them out to the main road where the aid vehicles were waiting. A successful rescue.

Tony

Memories of becoming a runner.

I opened up the New Year's running with a hard workout at The Y while Cheryl played racket ball with a friend, but the true start of the year's running was yesterday. I hearkened back to my running roots and rediscovered the trails of Kelsey Creek Park in Bellevue. I stopped in to log a few miles on the wood chip and boardwalk trails. My memory recalled a few stairs but, whoa boy, not as many as I found yesterday. Hundreds of stairs can be found in the well established Kelsey Creek trail system. It is part of a an extensive Lake to Lake trail connecting Lake Sammamish to Lake Washington; some day I'll have to do the whole thing. (The last link has an interactive map of the whole 7.5 mile trail.) Onward......While I attending Sammamish High School in the mid-80's the XC team regularly trained in the park utilizing the hilly wooded

area for training. Somehow the trail system received the title of "Nairobi" back then. I was not part of the naming but embraced the designation none the less. (There was also something about "XC 22" but I won't go into that.)

(Photos of the 1984 SHS XC teams, at Kelsey Creek Park) So yesterday I ran through "Nairobi memories" of hard repeat laps, hills, speed work and the few races hosted there. Kinda pitiful to imagine a forty year old reminiscing high school but sometimes it helps my soul to go back to my roots and remember. I was humbled as I recalled my fitness level back then compared to today. I was never one of the leaders, one of the faster runners, but I was recognized by Ed, our head coach, as, "A pole vaulter with a little endurance." I ran XC to prepare for the spring Track season, it was not my primary sport. I was a vaulter. But as I improved I discovered the value in cross training. The Sammamish XC team was known for its goofiness and "creative" coaching. Ed and Dave seem to have found a way to get the most out of their athletes focusing on fun and unusual training endeavours.

(Photos are the 1985 SHS XC teams. I am under the the car's bumper next to Ed and top lining up at the far right of the starting line.)

I joined, as a "jogger"/cross trainer having only played with running. (I find it very difficult to even type the word...jogger ugh.) This is where I first became aware of real running. The exact race was a JV race out at Salt Creek in Port Angeles. I was number two on the the JV team. Ed and I chatted a bit prior to the race about how to stay alive by not running off a cliff, into a tree, another runner, or a poison oak bush. All in all a very safe race course. The race started in a wide grassy field and quickly funneled down to a single track trail that twists and winds through the woods. The woods we meander through are a dense collection of old Douglas Firs, Salal, Oregon Grape, ferns and the like. The undulation root filled trail was so narrow passing was considered a full contact activity, hence the warning about the trees. Older Douglas Fur trees have pretty rough bark and blood has been known to flow from resulting impacts. I placed myself comfortably in about 15th to 20th, mid pack, going into the woods. The race course skirts sandstone cliffs providing amazing views to the Straight of Juan de Fuca. My pace was slow, in running terms it would be called, "pedestrian". Back then I really didn't know how to "race" I just ran not wanting to lead for fear of not knowing where to go, so I began the race at a comfortable non-threatening pace. The two mile course circled around the park allowing for spectating and coaching. Ed urged me on in the first open area, "Move up, Move up!" Having never been coached in a race before I was not sure what he meant. "Move up where?" It took a few seconds for me to understand he was urging me to pass the runners in front of me. So I did, with very little effort. "Hey this is fun", I thought as I worked my way through the string of runners, passing one more just before re-entering the woods and avoiding the dreaded Doug Fir Bark Rash. On the second lap I passed a few more and experienced a new feeling. I was churning along at my regular pace when everything kinda went quite. I felt lighter and faster. Somehow a door had opened to a new level of running, like a barrier I never knew existed, holding me back, had just been surpassed. Freedom to run faster and harder. It was as if I reached an awareness level of a whole new meaning of running. My heart rate jumped, my energy level increased, and my legs were stronger. I had become a runner. Right then I became a runner. There was less than a half mile in the race and I felt like I could fly. With only five runners between me and the lead I rounded a bend to a paved road leading to the finish. The road sloped downhill. Ed ran across the grassy meadow screaming, "Lean forward, lean forward!" Apparently I was leaning back, a body position that creates breaking while running, where your point of contact with the ground is ahead of your center of mass. I leaned forward and accelerated. "Wow, I never knew running could be like this. I can breath and this is FUN!" With less than one hundred meters to go I accelerated using a gear I never knew I had, passed two more and made my way across the finish line, now a runner. Ed's smile involves his whole face, and that is what greeted me at the finish, the smile and a few knowing words. He saw the difference in me, he knew what had happened out there. The "Pole vaulter with a little endurance" who had toed the line a few minutes ago was now a runner. I don't remember much more about the race (place or finish time) or the trip to PA. I do recall attending the PA High School football game the night before and witnessing some of our top runners, also part of the SHS Marching band, borrow instruments from the PA band and break out in a spontaneous and broken version of "Tequila". It remains one of my all time favorite XC road trips.........As I descend down the trails back toward Kelsey Creek I run under a roost of crows. Their raucous noise and the rain of bark, moss and lichen sprinkling down from the tree tops pulls me back to present day. I laugh out loud at the memories and find myself grateful for the opportunity to revisit the waterlogged wood chip trails. I finish my run cooling down and recalling the faces of those SHS XC Teams. For many of those faces this was the height of their running career for me it was just the commencement.

Tony