That One Time - A Different Kind Of Poetry

 

It was admittedly an untidy schedule-

A mish-mash of events congregated in close proximity.

I did not take the time to figure it out-

Why would I take what I do not own?

Nor did I make the time-

How does one create what already exists?

Time bestowed?

Perhaps…

Time gifted?

Grateful and thankful if so…

150 miles traveled North by Northwest-

An open site to soak up what light made it to Earth.

Donning waders I plunged into silver water-

Rays of a setting sun bounced off the highest of trees.

If 2 is company and 3 is a crowd-

They say the answer to “what is 4 and 5,” is 9.

Of brown trout…

I caught a “crowd.”

Keeping one to eat with yellow summer squash…

Both were cooked over an autumn fire.

Night was cold-

Riding the freezing line.

I myself was toasty-

Sandwiched between woolen blankets, notable constellations, and the Aurora Borealis.

The later danced in the Northern sky-

Lulling me to sleep, while enticing me to dream.

The Big Dipper
A Part Of URSA Major (The Great Bear)

The Northern Lights - Aurora Borealis

The Entire Constellation Of
Orion The Hunter

Christmas in October?

Red and green decorated the Northern heavens…

And I in my cap?

Settled my brain for a long evening nap…

Our own star was well positioned when I emerged from the nest-

Oatmeal with all the possible toppings my fuel for the day.

Nigh upon noon I again sought the trout-

In a different section of a squiggly blue thread.

A background of moving water against foundational bluffs-

Created an angler’s smorgasbord, and a mixture of brooks and browns.

A Brown Trout - Salmo Trutta

A Brook Trout - Salvelinus Fontinalis

Chunks of fish and syruped acorn squash…

Were enjoyed around a campfire.

Cool air enough…

For a cup of hot chocolate.

After the day’s activity I entered my tent with the darkness-

Prepared to sleep like the dead.

Serenaded throughout the moon filled night-

By owls, coyotes, and raccoons.

Now in nature’s cycle-

I woke at first light, and read for a spell.

My Tent & Campsite In The Background

Do adventures lie in the map?

I studied and fantasized…

What trails should I run?

Loops, switchbacks, and routes of many colors…

I drove and parked at a designated trailhead-

Well tread paths went up and down in sharp contrast.

New shoes gripped rocks and roots-

The duff of pine the filler between.

Vistas with occasional creek crossings-

Everything was pristine and fresh, with an explorer’s spirit.

My heart thumped…

While lungs pulled air.

Nearly 9 miles of trail…

Run wide-eyed in wonder.

Though physically tired-

Voids filled with content.

If not for time…

Time would have continued to be utilized.

Once packed and loaded-

I rinsed refreshed, before the drive home.

How is the spirit of the Northwoods?

Alive and kickin’...

And what of the spirit within?

Grateful and thankful as time itself would tell…

A View Of The Terrain - October 2024

I’ll see you along The Way…

Out On The Trail - Running With My Son

The Run Clark Lake 12K (7.5 Miles)
2015 - 10 Years Ago Now
After Todd's HS Graduation

I was a kid who grew up in the country.  I ran.  Once upon a time it’s what kids pretty much always did as a part of play.  The first time I ran as a matter of exercising, aside from getting from one place to another, was with my Dad; down the gravel dirt road we lived on along the ridge above Sparr, Michigan.  It was a tough way to start running as it was all downhill in the beginning.  It made you feel fast though!  The problem was that eventually you had to turn around and head back home.  The hills were steeper back then; albeit I was also smaller.  I went back that way a few years ago; they’ve graded the second hump of that road down considerably.  My guess is that since a couple of people elected to build homes on the north side of the second knoll, they decided to knock off the low visibility crown as a safety precaution.  That particular run was a starting point, however; both for me and the running craze of the 1970’s. (If you’re interested, I once wrote about my start to running in a 2016 blog entry found here: Running-Part#1: The History)

Over the decades of my life, running has taken on different looks, and appearances; sometimes a masquerade to what I’m feeling on the inside.  While the history of my running is something I’ve often felt good about and am proud of, I have also been known to peek down that narrow corridor shrouded in scary shadows; where I’m marred by injuries or frustrated by goals or training.  Fortunately some of that history isn’t all about me, and as we know, a fresh display of sunlight helps burn away the mold of disappointment.  Enter our kids!

My wife Cindy and I spent some great years following our son and daughter to high school cross country and track meets in addition to numerous summer road races.  It was fun to cheer and support them during those years; something we always looked forward to on race day!  Their running was an avenue (or trail) to a bigger picture, where they learned about motivation, discipline, teamwork, and everything in between.  Running the paths and trails of a cross country course was a favorite for our kids.  It helped that they had great coaches that encouraged them and the team.  As parents, we couldn’t have asked for too much more!

Both In Tears
From Pride & Exhaustion
Todd Runs 17:03 (5:41 minute/miles)
For His Fastest XC Meet Ever!
Senior Year - October 4th, 2014

When our son Todd graduated from high school, he decided to run XC (cross county) his freshman year in college.  He was running so much that fall of 2015 that it made for an easy jump into a half marathon race.  I did some research and found one in Waukesha, Wisconsin called the “Last Call Half Marathon,” that was held the first Saturday of December; a perfect time following his cross country season.  That day we earned our medals, running an average of 7:26 minute miles and finishing in 1:37:37.  It was a great race and moment to share together!

Last Call 1/2 Marathon - 2015

I’ve continued running that race ever since.  I enjoy both the course and the community.  When running that half marathon I carry memories of others I’ve run that race with; typically in cold, snowy, or blustery weather!  My daughter Jodi and I ran it in 2016 after her senior year of high school cross country.  It was a race where we started with dry ground and finished with several inches of snow.  I’ve also run it with teaching colleagues I’ve trained with all year long, as well as with former students; now grown adults.

After having a rough second half of running in 2023, when I was battling injuries and the effects of Lyme Disease, my son Todd asked me to join him in running a mid November 2023 run called the, "Abominable Trail Race”.  I was able to piece together an ample amount of training to feel like I could give the 5 kilometer race its due justice.

Race day for the Abominable was pretty darn cold and we nearly froze waiting for our start.  They had fires and heaters available to help ward off the below freezing temperature while we waited, but those were over taken by non-running spectators who were thoroughly enjoying themselves!  Fortunately the race was worth the time it took to start.

November 2023

Todd and I wound through the woods and single track paths in the hills around Lake Geneva, Wisconsin that day; finishing together for our first tandem race in the eight years since the 2015 half marathon.  That race, in retrospect, was also a kick-start to what we’ve been able to run these last 6 months.

While most of 2024 was a bit of a blur, I was able to get into a consistent routine of running.  Once Todd and his wife Emeris returned from Africa this past fall, where they work on Kijani Farm, he decided to once again join me in running the Last Call Half Marathon.   Training for him amounted to a self proclaimed, “Two Month - Couch to Race” program to be ready for the December first, 13.1 mile run.  To be fair, he was in decent shape and regularly played basketball and disc golf.

For me, the joy was in seeing Todd reconnect with a talent.  And while we were able to meet up and run on several different occasions over the weekends this past fall, he was finding self motivation to run and explore different routes where he could train on his own throughout the week.  Following an October weekend of running in Waco, Texas while we visited my daughter Jodi and son-in-law David, Todd and I met in Lake Geneva for two favorite training runs in November along the lakeshore path.  We hammered out a run of 10 miles one weekend as well as a 12 miler that took us all the way to Williams Bay and back.  Running was a side gig to simply spend time with my son; both of us talking and listening.  It was the venue that allowed us to spend time together, and I could learn what he was thinking about in relation to life and a host of other related topics.

Todd & Me Running With David
In Hot Waco Texas
October 2024

Todd & Me - On A Training Run
Along Lake Geneva's Shoreline Path
November 2024

For the half marathon weekend it was really cold!  Although sunny, the temperature read 12 degrees.  But with the wind, it felt like zero!  Due to the frigid weather, the race coordinator had us run 3 sets of a boomerang shaped course with the start/finish at the midpoint.  This was opposed to running a long way out and back where people could be dangerously stranded far from help; not a good situation when a person is already sweaty!  On the plus side, this allowed my wife Cindy and daughter-in-law Emeris to stay hunkered down in the car and watch us each time we passed.  It was the first time that Emeris had an opportunity to see Todd race.  We finished in basically the top third of the runners with a time of 1 hour and 53 minutes and felt good about the way we had run together under those conditions (I also managed 2nd place in my 55-59 age group).

Cindy, Me, Todd, & Emeris
Bundled For The Cold
At The 2024 Last Call 1/2 Marathon

With that longer race under our belt, we decided to sign up for the “Frozen Gnome” 10 kilometer race (6.2 miles) in Crystal Lake, Illinois.  I’ve also run this race on several occasions over the years.  It’s really well organized, has awesome shirts and medals, and is a tough course; up and down steep hills on what sometimes amounts to single track deer paths.  It’s like the good ole days of running in the woods as a kid!  Todd was familiar with the race site of Veteran Acres Park. It was where he and Emeris had their engagement pictures taken in the summer of 2019 - that was after Todd gave Emeris the engagement ring (ironically) on the Lake Geneva shoreline path where we had trained back in November.

Throughout December and into January, Todd and I continued to workout on our own during the week and then met in Crystal Lake to practice running the race trails on Saturday mornings.  A few of those training runs were brutally cold, but it was easier to run motivated with a partner; especially when we’d go out for breakfast afterward.  Chalk up a tally mark in the win column for community events bringing in revenue!

On Saturday, January 11th we got up (really) early and met in the lot next to Veteran Acres Park so we could pick up our Frozen Gnome race packet presented by OMR (Ornery Mule Racing).  For the race itself I decided to wear my “Runner's Image” dry-fit shirt.  I’ll probably have more to say about that in a later blog, but suffice to say, I wore it to honor the (now closed) locally owned running store by that name - whose staff had been there for our family since my wife and I settled in the Stateline area back in the late 1980’s.  It was the least that I could do to represent!

Although I had felt dizzy the day before the race, I was fortunate that it wasn’t an issue while we ran the trails.  With the narrowness of the paths, Todd led and I followed.  We jumped out to a quick start to avoid the bottleneck in the beginning, but then settled into a consistent rhythm.  Runner’s from the longer 50K race were mingled with the 10K that we ourselves were running, but together we were trail runners; which can be a unique group all of their own.

The 2025 Frozen Gnome

The details for that race are that we finished together in 19th and 20th place (3rd in my 50-59 age group and 1st in Todd’s 20-29 age bracket).  The course was technical as trail runs go, which was accented by the light snowfall, but it was also deeply gratifying.  I was running with my son.  My son who had once again found running and was loving both the training and the process.

Not only had we been able to share the experiences of running together, but as I watched him run ahead of me that wintery day, I noticed something else.  Within Todd’s cadence, style, and personality, I could pinpoint certain aspects of Cindy and I as well.  While he leapt logs, weaved around trees, and nimbly cascaded down steep inclines, I saw Cindy’s tenacity and fortitude as his foundation; both he and my wife find ways to forge ahead - even when life is difficult and tough.  At the same time, I could see a bit of myself in his running that day.  He talked easily as the miles clicked by; checking in and encouraging me as we worked up and down the hills.  And when we passed a herd of deer watching us from the side, he raised his hands in thankfulness and spoke softly to them; just as I had done during a practice run a week or so beforehand.  Todd gets it.  He understands the physical and mental lift that running can offer.  And although there are always ups and downs involved with an activity, running can gift us little things we can benefit from while out on the trail; and that’s important.  It’s been memorable running with my son.

See you along The Way…

Rockford Register Star
Father-Son Look Alike Contest
June 2005

Running - Part#1: The History

        When I think back to my earliest memories of running, I picture my Dad.  Out on the dirt roads of Otsego County’s Dover Township, of Northern Lower Michigan, he’d pull out his Adidas racing flats.  Those shoes were classics, and some of the earliest versions of a running shoe (white shoes with red and blue stripes).  I can recall being in about the 3^rd or 4^th grade and following him down the hill towards White House Trail.  I distinctly remember stopping at the corner though, and coming home as he made his way on down to Sparr Store.  I’m sure part of it was that it was hard to keep up with him, although climbing the hills to get back home couldn’t have been fun.  It was more, however, about the horse that was in the field just beyond that corner.  I remember it was a dark, brown color; but I also remember that it was scary.  I think it had something to do with his loud whinny and the way it would run at the fence if you came near.  Apparently, at that age, I thought that running the hills back to the house was less of an issue than trying to catch up to my Dad and having that horse see me.  I was only slightly traumatized by horses when we lived in that home, but those are stories for another time.  It wasn’t long after that, when we got a quarter-horse named Buckles, that everything was made right, and I made the decision that I was going to be a horse rancher when I grew up.

        When I reached junior high, I ran track.  I think I ran the mile and did the long jump.  I was small, and thin, and it was tough running in those Chuck Taylor basketball shoes.  Those shoes miraculously became my track shoes when spring rolled around on that old cinder track.  I just tried not to get lapped by Pete who was a year older than me, and the man-child of running at our school.  The summer of 1979 was the turnaround though.  That was the summer when running started switching from a way to get from point A to point B into more of a passion.  I’d always run, and although I wouldn’t say I got a lot faster, or that I even started growing, I did start enjoying it more.  When I was real little, I would run up and down the back hill in the summer with my wagon and scooter, or with my green saucer sled in the winter (talk to my parents for pictures and family movies of my sisters and I playing together).  

        From those experiences, running evolved into sprints to explore; adventures with my dog King into the hills, and valleys, and swamps behind our farm.  Some would probably argue I was running from the house as quickly as possible to avoid starting homework, but either way it was running.

        During the summer of 1979 I was in between my 7^th and 8^th grade year of school.  While visiting my extended family in southern Michigan, my cousins and I decided to run a recently established race around Clark Lake that our Grandma lived on.  We trained and practiced with two of my cousins’ friends by running around the lake for the better part of a Friday afternoon; the day before the race.  The following day; Saturday, we ran the race.  It was a seven mile run.  

It was my first road race ever.  We were young and the muscles in our legs were like those of any kids back in the day.  We made it and finished 14+ miles in two days, plus the swimming in between.  That Sunday morning though, coming down the stairs of the old farmhouse in the orchard off Jefferson Road, was not pretty.  Our legs didn’t want to bend, and so we had to side step our way down; much to the humor of my Aunt and Uncle.  If I remember right, my Uncle “helped” us by wrestling and pounding on us a little.  It was great fun let me tell you, but the fire of running had been lit. 

            I ran cross country my freshman year in high school with my friend Chris.  I didn’t even weigh a hundred pounds yet (not until the end of that year), but I finally managed my fastest time on the very last race of the year, in a snowstorm on our home course, at the county club out west of town.  

Chris and I are on the far right top row.

Throughout our season we ran on different courses throughout Northern Michigan; from turkey farms, to downhill-ski resorts and state forests.  That was the only year I ran cross country, as I started marching in the band the following fall.

            It was within the next year or so that I began occasionally running the five miles to our newly established farm after school, as well as starting the tradition of running our own town’s road race.  It was the climax to Gaylord’s week-long celebration called Alpenfest. 

Sister Becky with the H2O

Some might argue that the climax to the festival was the parade, but I did both of them, and although I really enjoyed each event, I loved the preparation for the race.  It was 7.5 miles long at that time; on a hellacious course that was out in the open with big, long hills.  It was run the 3^rd Saturday of July.  Even in Northern Michigan, it was often unbearably hot.  Looking back in my sketchy running journals of the time, I actually trained well for that race over the years as I did intermediate runs throughout the week and a long run on the weekends.  Somehow I’d figured that out.  Many times I ran it with my friend Jim, once or twice with my Dad, and several times with my boss at the local IGA store, Pat Heath.  Mr. Heath was a good runner, competitive, but helpful in the way that he offered good advice on training.  I knew I had run a good race if I was close to him or his older son Mike.  

In '84 (following HS graduation) with Mr. Heath
After the Alpenfest Race.

        Later during the summer between my freshman and sophomore years in college, while at home working at the IGA store, I went with the Heath family down to Flint, Michigan to run the 10 Mile Bobby Crim Race.  It was my first long run beyond the Clark Lake or Alpenfest Run distances.  The event had a lot of runners, I finished strong, and the crowds lining the cobblestone streets created a huge rush.  

While home from college those two summers, I also competed solo in the local and well known Mark Mellon Triathlon, as well as in the “Run through Hell” (in Hell, Michigan) with my Dad and Aunt Cherie.  That race obviously had a cool T-shirt.  Printed across the back was the phrase, "I Ran Through Hell."  And I did!

            While attending college, my roommate Tim Johnson and I began running together.  We trained in neighborhoods around the school and at one point, along with several other guys from our suite, kept track of our times and tried to beat our record for that course every time we ran.  It worked and we got faster; until the point that we “bonked”.  It was then that I learned the importance of scheduling rest days to allow your body the time to recuperate. 

            I continued running after marrying right out of college and moving to Rockford, Illinois.  Usually I’d begin running in the early spring, and build up to run summer and fall races.  I added the local Rockford 4^th of July race to my traditional two races back in Michigan.  Tim and I also continued getting together to

run; often competing in duathlons as well as road races.  The Cherry Valley Duathlon (run-bike-run) was a favorite since it was nearby.  Sometimes we competed as a team, and sometimes as individuals; although my fat-tired mountain bike made that endeavor a bit more difficult.  My fastest running times during those early 90’s came at the old Beloit Fall Classic 10K (where I ran in 38:51 at a 6:16 pace) and the Rockford Jingle Bell Run 5K (where I ran in 19:15 at a 6:12 pace).

            In 1992, while in the middle of my 3^rd year of teaching, I got to know our D.A.R.E. officer at school.  Deputy Rick Sager was into long distance races; races called marathons (26.2 miles).  Somehow he talked me into running one that June up in Duluth, Minnesota.  How could I say no to someone who said I could easily do it?  How could I say no to running a marathon along Lake Superior’s northern coast?  

Rick Finishing Grandma's Marathon in '93

Cindy & I after my 1st Marathon in '92.

Now, 25 years later, with a lifetime of ups and downs throughout it all, the passion continues.  It’s a passion that encompasses people, and training, and courses, and trails, and races.  That, however, is a story for another time.  Stay tuned…

            See you along The Way…