Another Jam-Packed Weekend

First, the bad news: I'm going to have to have more skin chopped off of my right ear due to another minor outbreak of basal cell skin cancer. It's a simple procedure, and not a major health problem...but it's an inconvenience I'd rather do without. I blame it all on Doug Smith, since he's the one who promoted the theory that having a deep tan would psyche out our opponents at swim meets when we were on Wichita Swim Club. "If you're really tan," he said, "they'll figure you've been working out more, and are therefore in better shape."

Of course, the reality was that we were probably worse off, since lying out in the hot sun all afternoon most likely sapped our energy more than if we'd have gone about our daily business instead of basking on beach towels under the nasty UV rays that would eventually send us under the knife.

Stupid sunshine.

It does make me wonder, though, whatever happened to the albino kid who swam with us for a few summers. I cannot imagine the suffering that poor guy has gone through as a result of wanting to be a swimmer. With all the benefits of the sport (higher intelligence, longer lives, fantastically sexy bodies, and highly refined social skills—not to mention the built-in aphrodisiac qualities the scent of chlorine provides), it's hard to remember that there are downsides. But I suppose that having a few patches of crusty skin removed every few years is a small price to pay for being such amazingly awesome human beings. Swimmers totally rock!

Anyway, that surgery won't happen for a few weeks yet, so I was able to spend the past weekend being active.

The weekend started with some inspiration provided by everyone's favorite Pentathlete, the lovely and talented Sammy Achterberg. She had recently returned from Drzonków, Poland (don't ask me how to pronounce it), where she competed in the Junior World Championships in Modern Pentathlon. She and her teammates brought home gold medals, and she was kind enough to bring them to swim practice so we could see. Very cool! Congratulations to Sammy and all the US Pentathlon team!

On Saturday, I participated in a "family" swim meet, in which kids and adults competed next to each other. I had a pretty intense grudge match with a 15-year-old boy in the 100 breaststroke, and managed to just barely out-touch him. But in my other events, the youngsters whupped me pretty badly.

The meet was held at Denver's George Washington High School, which has been around since 1960. I was a little surprised to find that the boy's gym lockers have also been around since 1960, with several of them having rusted through. The pool seemed to be in decent shape though, and the water was warmer than I normally expect to see at swim meets. That was fine with me, since my body still hasn't adapted to the idea that summer is over.

It was a sprint meet; the 200 free was the longest event. You may wonder why I would sign up for a meet with such insanely short races...and you'd be right to do so. Sprinting is hard, painful, and downright silly, and is for people whose genetic makeup is far, far different from mine. But I got it into my head about a year ago that I would like to break a minute in the 100 freestyle for one last time before I descend into my twilight years. I've hit a couple of 1:01s since then, which is close enough to give the dream credence...but I know I'll have to go off the blocks under meet conditions to do it. This sounded like a fun meet, and I didn't have any other Saturday obligations, so what the heck.

Despite the condition of the lockers, the starting blocks had been modernized with the new track-start wedges at the rear of each platform. I had never started in that configuration before. This photo shows my friends Chris Nolte and Rich Abrahams preparing to launch themselves into the 100IM race. Rich holds multiple sprinting world records, and has acclimated to the new block configurations, while many other meet participants still use the old "hang ten" starting style. I tried it with my foot on the wedge, and have a generally favorable impression of the idea. I'm not sure I started any faster, but with some more experience (and perhaps better balance), I'm sure I would.

The most fun I had at the meet was the "Old Guys" relay we put together for the first event. Rich, Chris, and Bill Abbott were my 200 Free Relay teammates, and Rich came up with the idea of trying to hit exactly 2 minutes for our cumulative time. That meant that each of us would try to swim our 50 in 30 seconds even, with the later swimmers adjusting as necessary if we missed the pace on the early legs. Those guys are all faster than me, so it was probably tougher for them to slow down to the right pace -- for me it was pretty much an all-out sprint. I led off, and finished at 29.56, which wasn't too far off the target. The other guys were even more accurate, and we finished just a couple of tenths under 2:00. It was fun!

Otherwise, well, not so much. My 200 was 2:17 plus, the 100 breast at 1:25, and the 100 free a disappointing 1:04. I didn't feel bad, necessarily...just slow.

So, am I giving up on the 59.99 idea? No. Not yet. It may indeed be out of reach, but I'd still like to try again at some point, and strive for a better result. Perhaps if I hadn't worked out as hard on Friday, or if I shaved my legs and head, who knows? I'll give it another shot someday soon. We'll see.



On Sunday, my friend Lisa and I drove up into the mountain wilderness to run a trail race that my brother had signed me up for. It was at the Devil's Thumb Resort, which is just up the road from Fraser, CO, which is just up the road from the Winter Park ski area. The race was supposed to be 7.5 miles long, but as we lined up in the starting area, the meet director informed us that it was a different course this year, and would end up being somewhere around 10 kilometers (6.2 miles). OK, that's fine...it's a tough race with steep climbs, narrow trails, stream crossings, and swampy areas -- shortening it up by a mile or so wouldn't break my heart at all.

I took off working hard, and was pleased that Pat was only about 30 seconds in front of me and I was still ahead of Lisa at the 1-mile point. There were a few spots where we ran over planks that had been placed across the swampy areas, but most of the first 2 miles were in the open with room to run. I was puffing and panting (as I always do), and managed to pass several people before the steep parts started. Both Pat and Lisa were still in sight when I hit 2 miles (Lisa's in blue, Pat's in pink, three spots ahead.)



I could even still see them when Lisa caught Pat, but shortly after that we were into the woods and they were long gone. I guess they played tag for a while before Pat finally maintained his lead to the finish. I had my own games going on with a couple of women who I'd pass on the uphills and then watch them zip by me on the downs.

There are many reasons I'm so tentative and wimpy on the downhill sections. I'm old and feeble, for one, and am somewhat reluctant to torture my knees by absorbing the shock of full-speed descents. But I also blame my glasses; the distance to the ground seems to be in the no-man's land of trifocal acuity -- my depth perception at foot level simply stinks. And when you throw in a bunch of radical shade-to-sun lighting changes, well, I'm in real danger of doing an "as...you...wish!"-type tumble down the side of the mountain. Ergo, I am slow and cautious.

And to be honest, I'm not that great going up the hills, either. Once it became steep, folks passed me no matter which direction the slope was pointing. Oh well.

But I didn't really mind; I knew going in that skinny trails with rocks, roots and angles were not my forte. The only time I got a little bummed out was when my GPS showed 6.2 miles (the distance I thought the race would run), and I was still deep in the woods. I knew the course ended with a long meadow crossing, so being well back in the bowels of the forest at that point meant that there was at least a mile more to go.

Turns out it was more like two miles more. But what're ya gonna do? I just tried to run fast when the trail allowed it, and not lose too much more time through the more challenging sections. And eventually, I emerged from the trees and could see the finish line, probably about 3/4 mile away. Time to sprint.

Or what I call sprinting, anyway. I tried hard -- I really did -- and eventually made it to the finish line. And since they weren't packing up yet, it appeared that there were indeed still others out on the course.

Bottom line: I worked hard, got a good workout, enjoyed the views and the fall colors, and I survived the race without coming in dead last. It was a dandy-fine experience.

I think Pat and Lisa enjoyed it, too...though Lisa did take a minimal tumble when she looked up to wave at the photographer (Pat's wife, Liane.) She bounced right up, dirty but otherwise unscathed, and we all finished the morning with a lovely brunch at my brother's house. Traffic on I-70 was slow, so I didn't get back to Denver until late in the afternoon, but I wasn't really planning to do anything else anyway.

And that was my weekend. So what about these guys?



The answer is ORN. To the left is the famous torch singer, Lena Horne. Next to her is the fellow who introduced me to the Star Trek franchise; he was in the first episode I ever watched. I know I've told this story before, but I remember it distinctly. My friend Herbie Bevan called me and said "You have to turn on the TV right now!" And there was the scaly and slobbering Gorn, trying to put an end to Cap'n Kirk. Of course, at the time, I had no idea that the episode held so many metaphorical lessons for our society (see: Palestine, etc.), but I loved it anyway.

Next to ol' bug-eyes is Matt Damon playing the character Jason Bourne, and to his right is the esteemed actor, Michael Dorn. The final fellow depicted is the character Zed from Men in Black, ably played by veteran thespian Rip Torn. (I'm sure everyone knows this, but "Rip" was actually a family nickname. His given name was Elmore, which raises the question of why that name has gone out of fashion. It's a perfectly fine name, but now all the kids seem to be named Michael or Matt or Jason, etc. Why? I'm sure I have no clue.)

And yeah, I know that I mentioned the idea of creating a separate space for my trivia contests, but I haven't done it yet. Suggestions for what to call it would be welcome. In the meantime, send me your ideas for what other inappropriate-to-my-skillset races I should do, and have a great day!