David Goggins, Mike Pence, And Taylor Swift All Walk Into A Bar...

There's all different kinds of runners out there.  Runners have different attitudes towards the sport and run a wide spectrum of distances.  There's those who run a few miles a few times per week and may run the occasional 5K.  There's also people who log upwards of one hundred miles per week and run multiple ultramarathons per year.  A lot of people would probably look at what I do and put me into the category of being a "serious runner".  Well, I'm definitely not a serious runner.  I am, but I'm also not.  I am a serious runner in the sense that I do it almost every day and I want to be a good runner and accomplish my goals.  But I possess a lighthearted approach to it.  I don't look at my watch very often while I'm running.  I keep my Strava profile private and I hardly follow anyone on there.  I usually listen to music and I think about a lot of things while I run.  I don't put too much pressure on myself.  I can't take it too seriously because in my mind, running is not supposed to cause stress.  It's supposed to have the opposite effect.  It's supposed to help clear my head.  It's supposed to be fun and rejuvenating.  

On the other hand, there are public figures and people I know in my personal life who take running very seriously.  They're tough on themselves and approach it from a more competitive standpoint.  They don't run because they think it's fun, they do it because it's hard and painful.  One guy who fits this stereotype perfectly is David Goggins.  David Goggins, or "Goggins" as most people call him, is an ultra-endurance athlete.  His specialty is the Badwater 135, which he's done several times, but he's also competed in several other ultramarathons, triathlons, and cycling events.  He also has a career as an author and motivational speaker.  Despite his accomplishments, he remains a polarizing figure in the ultrarunning world.  I feel like the ultrarunning community has a reputation of being a hippy dippy, everyone loves each other kind of a circle.  Even most of the men and women who are the top competitors in the sport aren't exactly what you would call type-A kind of people.  They're pretty chill.  Goggins on the other hand, approaches ultrarunning with a military mindset.  He has a twenty-year military career under his belt and has served in the Iraqi war.  During his post race interview at Badwater 2007, Chris Kostman, the race director, jokingly reminded him that he was off-duty and it was okay to smile.  Badwater is notorious for featuring triple digit heat on the course, often reaching over one-hundred and fifteen degrees Fahrenheit.  That's freaking hot.  Any normal person knows that.  But when asked how he dealt with the intense heat during the race, Goggins replied with a straight face "I didn't even notice it".  The crowd laughed, but he was being dead serious.  In a separate interview he said that he's not one of those guys who goes out for a run and says "oh, look at the mountains, look how pretty it is outside".  "That's not me" he said.  "I don't like it, it hurts.  But that's why I do it".  He's a pretty intense dude.  A lot of people really like him and find him very inspiring.  Others, however, are turned off by his "no excuses, we're not here to have fun" attitude and find him distasteful.  

Goggins was never really my jam.  I've always respected him for his accomplishments and his military service, but he's a little too intense for me.  I have a completely different sentiment towards ultrarunning than he does, and therefore I've deemed him unrelatable and left it at that.  About a week ago Goggins' name was showing up a lot in the Trail and Ultrarunning Facebook group.  Apparently an interview had just been released with him and Joe Rogan and people were very eager to voice their opinions on social media about the interview and Goggins as a person.  I found the comments intriguing and I decided to give the interview a listen.  I put it on earlier this week while I was closing out the November financial statements at work.  I knew how Goggins was and I queued up the interview, expecting to roll my eyes the entire time.  The interview was a little over two-and-a-half hours long and I listened to the whole thing.  It was vintage Goggins.  He talked about running through serious knee injuries.  He discussed how he motivated himself when he woke up in the morning and didn't feel like doing anything.  He would say to himself "What are you a little bitch?  Are you going to be a little bitch today?".  He said "I don't talk about happy times very much because you don't come to Goggins for the happy times.  You come to Goggins to hear about the dark times.  That's what makes you stronger.  You don't need anyone to help you through the happy times."  He was being his typical macho self, but at one point the interview took a different turn.  He talked about the horrible abuse that he and his mother suffered at the hands of his father while he was growing up.  He told stories about how he weighed three hundred pounds at one point and how people attempted to publicly discredit his military service.  He showed his vulnerable side and told his story.  He explained that his gruff attitude is not intended to break people down, he wants to see people succeed.  He even laughed and smiled a few times.  I myself got a few laughs out of the interview as well.  Contrary to what I thought going into it, I didn't roll my eyes once.  I actually enjoyed the interview quite a bit and developed a new found admiration for Goggins.  Hearing his back story and how he overcame the hell that he was exposed to throughout his life was inspiring.  Listening to the interview didn't necessarily change the fact that I disagree with his approach to ultrarunning, but it did make me like him more.  And more importantly it made me realize that despite the different attitudes that we have, I have more in common with him than I thought.  I felt like I understood him more than I did before.  Maybe I'll even read his books at some point!

Now, let's shift gears to a different situation that bears some similarities to the Goggins one.  This story centers on another guy who is not a runner and someone I don't see eye to eye with, but a guy I respect; Mike Pence.  About a month ago Mike Pence's memoir "So Help Me God" was published.  I'm a pretty liberal guy and most of my values and beliefs align with the Democratic Party.  Therefore, I may disagree with most of Mike's political beliefs, but he's not a hateful jerk, so I respect him.  I wanted to hear what he had to say and I wanted to know more about his background.  Sam, Aidan, and I were at Barnes & Noble one night about a week after the book dropped and I bought a copy.  It's a pretty thick book and it's going to take a while for me to get through, but it's actually a really good read so far.  I think most people are more aware of who Mike Pence is than they are Goggins, so I won't go into too much detail about Mike, but I wonder how many people know his background.  I wonder how many people know that even though he grew up in a small town in southern Indiana, his parents were Irish Catholics from the south side of Chicago.  How many people know that he was a democrat until his early twenties and that he cites JFK as one of his biggest heroes.  How many people know that he struggled with self confidence and being overweight as a kid.  Similar to Goggins, based on what I've read so far in his book, I feel like I know Mike better.  I understand more where he came from and what shaped his beliefs.  I didn't think I would have anything in common with Mike Pence before I started reading his book, but I realized that I actually do.  We both grew up with Republican dads and Democrat moms.  Our dads both taught us the value of hard work.  We both lost a parent unexpectedly at a young age.  It still doesn't change the fact that I disagree with most of what he stands for politically, but reading his book has made me like him more.  I look forward to reading the rest of his book.  It's actually quite a page turner.

I think it goes without saying that nowadays people tend to attack each other quite a bit.  People will start a full on war with others because of disagreements over political issues, religion, and life in general.  People are especially ruthless on social media.  It's worse on social media because people can attack each other without being face to face for millions of other people to see.  My subjective assessment as to why there is so much attacking going on is because people don't take the time to try to understand the other person.  They see or hear something they don't like, they get triggered by it, and without knowing anything about the other person, they just start firing missiles.  Then the other person files missiles back and it becomes a hot mess inside a dumpster fire.  I feel like if more people took the time to hear out people they disagree with, things would be different.  I wish people would listen to what others have to say by watching interviews, reading books, reading articles, etc.  If we listen to what people have to say, we can better understand those who have different views than ours.  And if we understand people more, we're more likely to give them compassion.  We may even find out that fundamentally we have a lot in common.  That's when the attacking will finally stop.  

I always enjoy reading articles, reading books, or listening to interviews involving people with whom I have a lot in common.  It's always good to hear from them, but lately I've discovered that I get an equal amount of satisfaction by doing the same for people with whom I don't agree.  Not only do I understand them and gain a certain level of appreciation for them, but sometimes I learn something new.  Of course, there are people out there, public figures, and people I've met in my personal life, who I will never understand.  Their attitudes and views are irrational and so far off the grid from what I know, that they don't make any sense to me.  I'm not going to waste my time on them.  Let them be nuts and live in their own delusional world.  But there are a lot of people who are different from me but still make sense to me.  Just for laughs, I'll throw Taylor Swift into the mix as a third example.  I explained in detail who Goggins is to paint the picture since he's not as well known.  But I don't need to explain who Mike Pence is, and I certainly don't need to explain who Taylor Swift is.  I remember being on a rafting trip in Yosemite with a group of friends a while back and complaining about how annoying her songs were.  "It's the same damn thing every time."  I said.  "All of her songs are like the plot of some cheesy romance movie squashed down into three minutes".  One of my buddies laughed and said "there's two kinds of people in this world; people who like Taylor Swift, and people who pretend they don't like Taylor Swift".  Aside from a few songs, Taylor wasn't my thing.  She's incredibly talented.  She has a great singing voice, she's proficient in playing several instruments, and she writes her own songs.  Her songs are catchy and clever, but she's just not rock and roll enough for my taste.  When her new record "Midnights" dropped, I gave it a whirl just for shits and gigs.  I have to hand it to her, the new record is pretty good.  It's nice to hear her sing about more introspective topics, the songs have a good groove to them, and the cover art is pretty cool.  I felt like this record was a little edgier and not as G rated as her previous material, which I particularly liked.  I'm sure Ticketmaster would be happy to hear that I won't be buying tickets to a Taylor Swift concert anytime soon, but do I respect her as a musician and songwriter? Absolutely.    

People might be wondering why I shared a mountain photo on top of Sonora Pass for this blog post.  Well, to be truthful, I couldn't think of a good photo to use, except for maybe creating a cheesy collage of David Goggins, Mike Pence, and Taylor Swift pictures.  But a mountain picture also seemed appropriate because this post is about bringing people together.  And despite how different people are from each other, I think just about everyone can appreciate a picture of beautiful mountain scenery, am I right?

  

One Of The Two Or Three Most Important Things

One of the most interesting books I've ever read was the Steve Jobs biography by Walter Isaacson.  It was quite a long read, but I really enjoyed it.  This book is memorable to me not only because I was reading it when I moved from Chicago to Los Angeles, but also because the book discusses how Jobs often mentioned that taking LSD was "one of the two or three most important things [he's] ever done in [his] life".  I think a lot of people can relate to this.  Maybe not the taking LSD part, but having two or three things that they've done in their life that they consider the most important. The most pivotal.  The most life altering.  If you're like me and you spend a lot of time reflecting on life, you probably know these two or three things off the top of your head.  Others may ponder for a while and find their two or three things at some point down the road.  Some may never find them after a lifetime of searching, and others may simply not give a damn and choose to not search for them.  Those two or three things can occur at any point in life.  They can occur in our formative years, during adulthood, or even later in life when we're in our fifties and sixties.  I may only be thirty-six, but I already know damn well the two or three most important things I've done in my life up to this point.  

Let's take it back to the Detroit suburbs.  It was cold Sunday morning in January 1998.  During the week a small snow storm had made it's way across the Great Lakes and dumped about five inches of snow on the ground in my hometown.  By the time Sunday morning arrived, my dad and I had shoveled the sidewalk and driveway, the street had been plowed, and the storm had left behind an ample amount of sunshine, giving way to a bright and sunny morning with clear blues skies and a layer of fresh snow on the ground.  A winter day this nice in Michigan was indeed pretty rare.  The sun reflected off the snow and beamed in the living room window as I sat in front of the TV, bowl of cereal in hand, watching Rocko's Modern Life. The doorbell rang.  When my dad opened the door the voice of our guest was a familiar one.  It was my Uncle Gale.  When I heard him at the door, that was my queue to finish up my cereal and get dressed.  Uncle Gale is a great family friend of ours, and although we're not related, he's always been like an uncle to me, hence the title.  He's one of my dad's sailing buddies and his wife, Aunt Gina, was my mom's college roommate.  Besides my parents, Uncle Gale and Aunt Gina were probably the most influential adults in my life while I was growing up.  They brought nothing but positivity to my childhood.  My mom, dad, sister, and I spent a great deal of time with them, especially during the spring and summer months.  During sailing season we'd spend weekends with them at our yacht club and go sailing together.  When I entered my teen years, I went on to accompany Uncle Gale, my dad, and a couple of their friends on overnight sailing trips around the Great Lakes in the summer.  Whenever my parents went out of town for weekend getaways, my sister and I would always stay at their house.  In my eyes, they were great people.  They were happy and had a lot of zest and enthusiasm for life.  They exemplified a healthy and active lifestyle and took good care of themselves.  They were my kind of people.  I viewed them as successful and I looked up to them.  Because of the positivity that they brought to my life, especially during some very dark times, I loved and respected them deeply, and I still do to this day.  

Speaking of dark times, life was a struggle for me back in January 1998.  Don't get me wrong, it's not like I grew up in poverty and went to bed hungry.  I had good, supportive parents, we had a nice house, and I had a good education.  My sister and I, more or less, had a pretty middle class upbringing.  But I wasn't like most other kids.  I was different.  Other kids were more reserved, but I was energetic, and perhaps a little too overzealous at times.  I've been different my whole life.  Even today, I tend to stick out most places I go.  I'm proud of it now, but at ten years old, living in Michigan suburbia, with people expecting me to be a certain way, it wasn't always fun.  A lot of people didn't get me.  I struggled in school and had a hard time academically. I was shamed by teachers.  Other kids insulted me for being different.  I was just starting to develop an interest in girls, but I had no freaking clue what to do about that, so I downplayed it.  When I got together with my extended family for holidays, I felt a lot like Kevin McCallister in Home Alone.  I was the outsider.  Feeling other than and less than was the story of my life when I was a kid.  I had some friends, but they didn't know how much I struggled internally.  I never told them.  I didn't want to show my feelings out of fear of being shamed.  I saw a psychologist in third grade.  Honestly, I think my parents were sometimes at a loss as to what to do about me.  They had me try a wide variety of sports.  Soccer, basketball, swimming, gymnastics, judo, and others.  I didn't have much interest in those sports and nothing seemed to stick.  I was pretty good at little league baseball though.  The summer before, my team made it all the way to the tournament final.  We lost, and it was heartbreaking.  I gave up little league baseball for two years afterwards.  It wasn't fun anymore.  I liked to ride my bike and skateboard, but I was losing interest by the time January 1998 came around.  I'm glad my parents never gave up on me because I'm sure it was tough on them sometimes.  Uncle Gale and Aunt Gina never gave up on me either.  They were among the few adults in my life who understood me.  They were awesome to me, even during my angsty teen and pre-teen years.  In addition to being avid sailors, they were also passionate skiers and took ski trips to Colorado every winter.  We had gone over to their house for dinner on a Friday night in January and out of nowhere, Uncle Gale asked me if I wanted to go skiing with him next Sunday.  "Uh, I've never done it before, I don't know" I replied.  "I'll teach ya" he said cheerfully.  I thought about it for a moment.  "Okay, let's do it" I managed to say.  I didn't quite know what I was getting myself into.  Little did I know at the time, it would turn out later that taking Uncle Gale up on his offer to take me skiing would have a tremendous and profound impact on my life.  

As my dad and Uncle Gale conversed in the kitchen, I finished up the last few bites of my Cinnamon Toast Crunch and hurried upstairs to my bedroom to change into my snow gear.  I emerged in the kitchen a few minutes later and was greeted with a high five from Uncle Gale.  "Hey Duker! You ready to go?".  Ever since we were babies Uncle Gale has adopted the nicknames "Duke" for me and "Duchess" for my sister.  Hearing him call me "Liam" was completely foreign to me.  I felt a wave of cautious optimism as we made the forty-five minute drive to Mount Holly.  It was one of the rare exceptions where an adult other than my parents spent time with me one on one.  It was a nice break from my every day life to be hanging out with a guy who always brought good vibes.  When we arrived at Mount Holly I was feeling excited.  I had never been there before.  I'd never been to a ski area, never been to a lodge.  The only activity I did that involved snow up to this point was sledding.  We rented all the equipment that I was going to need; skis, poles, and boots.  Uncle Gale taught me how to get my boots on and how to clip the boots into the ski bindings.  Once we got outside I looked up at the mountain in awe.  And let's be clear here; it wasn't actually a mountain.  It was a hill.  We didn't have mountains in Michigan, but the three hundred and fifty feet of vertical drop that Mount Holly presented was enough to get my blood pumping.  I looked around at the wilderness that surrounded us, the chair lifts, the ski huts, and the other skiers, taking it all in.  It was all very exciting to me.  I was starting to already feel like I was in the right place.  That day was the most fun I'd had in a long time.  Uncle Gale spent the morning teaching me the technique.  He taught me how to do toe turns, how to stop, and how to use my ski poles efficiently.  We spent almost the whole day on the bunny hill.  I had a couple of laughable moments on the toe rope, but by the end of the day, we had gotten off the bunny hill and I went down one of the very easy beginner runs twice.  Something happened to me out there that day.  Something transforming.  I loved everything about it.  Being outside, being active, being in good company.  When I arrived back home I told my parents all about our day on the slopes.  I told my friends about it at school the next day.  I was pumped, man.  For the first time in my life I felt like I had found a sport that I genuinely enjoyed.  I finally felt like I belonged.  

We planned to go skiing two more times that winter.  The second time I continued to work on my technique, had even more fun, and spent more time on the beginner slopes and less time on the bunny hill.  I would get annoyed when I fell, but Uncle Gale told me not to worry and that falling was part of becoming a better skier.  "Even people who've been skiing for years fall" he would tell me.  "But, you never fall" I countered.  He kicked the snow off his ski boot and laughed.  "You should see me when I ski in Colorado.  I fall all the time".  The third planned trip unfortunately didn't happen.  It was late Winter, and early Spring conditions prevailed.  On the morning of the third trip it was forty-five degrees and raining, essentially turning Mount Holly into a giant slush fest.  It was a bummer.  I got out a few more times the following winter, enjoying it more and more each time.  The only issue was I wasn't going enough to consistently improve.  It wasn't until the following winter after that, that skiing began to have a major impact on my life.  I heard some kids talking about ski club one day in school.  "Ski club?" I thought.  "I like skiing.  What exactly is this ski club?".  After intruding on their conversation I found out that ski club was an eight week winter program where students go skiing at Mount Holly once a week on Thursday nights after school.  This sounded friggin' awesome.  I can go skiing once a week on a school night? Where do I sign up?! I brought a handout home to my parents with all the information they needed to know and they enrolled me in the program without hesitation.  For all of January and February, myself and about fifty other kids would board a bus after school every Thursday with our equipment.  The bus would take us to Mount Holly, we were given a food ticket to use in the lodge for dinner, and we basically were free to ski all we wanted from 4:00 PM until 9:00 PM.  The bus would then take us back to school and our parents would pick us up.  I loved it.  I looked forward to Thursday nights every week.  I improved considerably as a skier since I was now going once a week.  I passed all the basic tests, earned my patches, and was flying down more difficult terrain than the prior season.  And I was having a blast.  I would usually ski with the same three guys every week.  We would ski for a while, go have dinner and warm up, then go back out for about another hour before we had to be back on the bus.  I listened to my favorite music on the bus to and from Mount Holly.  After four weeks in my first year of ski club I knew that I had finally found my sport.  Skiing was my jam and it was starting to change my whole outlook on life.  

When I started skiing regularly my life improved considerably.  Having a sport that I was passionate about and good at was a game changer.  It boosted my self confidence to a level I had never seen before.  As a result, I developed better social skills and had an easier time making friends, especially in the winter sports community, since we all shared a common interest.  I had an outlet for my energy and was able to focus more and do better in school.  My grades improved significantly, especially in math, which later became my favorite subject.  I still got crap from people for being different sometimes, but it happened less often.  Unfortunately some people were just too close minded to understand.  But things were different now. I had more self confidence.  I had more friends.  I had a sport that I loved and in which I was skilled.  By that time, when other kids insulted me, I was laughing in their faces, giving them the finger, and telling them to go fuck themselves.  That shut them up.  I also started telling adults off too.  I didn't swear at them.  I knew better than that.  But if adults hassled me for reasons that I felt were unnecessary, I would tell them they're not the boss of me, to leave me alone, and not to tell me what to do.  Let's just say I got in a little trouble for that and I had to write an apology letter to another kid's dad on one particular occasion.  In my thirteen year old mind, I thought I was being cool, but it's safe to say that my newfound self confidence was getting the better of me and I needed to be kept in check.  I started being more polite to adults even if they were getting on my nerves.  My parents gave me a talking to for those mishaps, but they were mostly ecstatic about the situation.  They were happy I had found skiing and my grades and social life were improving as a result.  With newfound determination, I also resumed playing little league baseball, rode my bike more, and took up tennis, another sport I became interested in pursuing.  By the time I graduated from middle school in eighth grade, I was the happiest I had ever been in my life up until that point.

I continued with ski club all throughout high school.  I skied with my friends but I also continued to ski with Uncle Gale, and Aunt Gina would occasionally tag along.  My sister learned to ski as well, and we would go on family weekend trips with my parents, Uncle Gale, and Aunt Gina to Northern Michigan and ski at some of the resorts up there.  Not only were those "mountains" bigger but they got better snow than the places near my hometown.  In ninth grade I transitioned from to skiing to snowboarding.  As a diehard skier, Uncle Gale was initially a little put off by this change, but when he saw that I was dedicated to it, he was more okay with it.  The last time we skied together was in Winter of 2010.  He's since retired from the sport, but he and Aunt Gina still continue sail quite often during the warm season.  I've been snowboarding ever since ninth grade.  It brings me the same level of satisfaction it did when I was a kid, except now I get to snowboard down real mountains here in California.  I remember as a kid asking Uncle Gale what it was like skiing down a real mountain.  "It's awesome" he replied with a big smile.  He couldn't be more right.  I've occasionally dabbled back into downhill skiing, but these days I mainly prefer snowboarding and cross country skiing.  Snowshoeing is also lots of fun.  Most people who know me know that I love winter sports.  This piece probably gives most readers a better idea of why I'm so into them.  They've worked wonders for my life.  They changed my world as a kid and opened up a lot of doors.  You've probably been able to put it together by this point, but I'll still say it for good measure; saying "yes" to Uncle Gale's offer to go skiing with him on that Sunday morning in January 1997 was, without a doubt, one of the two or three most important things I've ever done in my life up until this point.  The other two will be discussed some other time.  They will have to be, because there's quite a story behind those as well. 

   

What's Your Ideal Running Temperature?

                                     Morning sunrise in Tahoe after the thirty-eight degree night

The other night, Sam, myself, and Aidan were hanging out with some of our running friends in downtown Los Altos.  It was the night of the Downtown Wine Stroll, a local event in which several wine bars and vendors offer wine tasting in the downtown area.  We only caught the tail end of it, but it seemed to be something along the lines of a bar crawl, only with wine.  Our friend Sam (a guy named Sam) was playing saxophone with a jazz band outside of one of the venues as part of the event's entertainment.  None of us were really into the wine part of the evening, but we gathered to support our friend, hear some jazz, and catch up with each other.  It was a nice ambiance.  The weather was crisp, cool, and refreshing, the band was good, there were lots of decorative lights, and everyone seemed to be in a good mood.  It felt like a nice Autumn night.  As we stood in a circle chatting, I held our little dude up against my chest so he could join in on the action.  He seems to really like people, human interaction, and being out and about.  When someone commented on the chilly weather I said "What's your favorite temperature to run in? Let's go around the circle".  There were six of us and just about everyone said they preferred high fifties, low sixties.  When we got to me, my response was "thirty-eight degrees".  Not only was it very specific, but it was considerably lower than the temperatures my friends preferred.  

Over the last few years I've started a new "tradition" during my training for the Canyons 100K.  I drive to Tahoe on a weekend night, arrive at around 1:00 AM, run fifty kilometers by myself through the night on highway 89 along the lake, finish around 7:30 - 8:00 AM, have a delicious breakfast, then drive back home.  There's usually a short nap involved somewhere in there.  The goal is to not only train my body to run long distances, but to do so on very little rest during odd times of the day.  It's a good endurance exercise.  It's also a lot of fun!  I get hot easily and I sweat a lot when I run.  Therefore, I've always preferred running in cooler weather, but it was during this solo, through the night, Tahoe run in 2021 when I discovered my ideal running temperature.  I stepped out of my car into the dark night.  When I switched on my flashlight and headlamp and began running down the road, my phone indicated that it was thirty-eight degrees.  This was at 1:30 AM on an early April night in Tahoe, so this temperature was actually a little warmer than average.  At this time of  year the temps typically drop into the high twenties or low thirties overnight, however, a storm was on it's way in, and it was an unusually cloudy night with overcast skies.  I wore a long sleeve dri-fit running shirt with a short sleeve one over it, along with shorts and Vibram five finger running shoes.  Throughout the entire seven-hour journey, I didn't need to alter my running attire one bit.  I never needed to de-layer, layer up, or even roll up my sleeves.  I didn't feel too warm or too cold.  I felt just right.  When I returned to my car I realized that I only drank about half of the fluids I had on me and I hardly broke a sweat.  I felt very dry and comfortable.  When I looked at my phone, the temperature still read thirty-eight degrees.  The clouds had somewhat dispersed and there were some cracks of sunshine once the sun had risen, but the overcast skies throughout the night had held in some of the residual mild temperatures from the daytime, and as I browsed the hourly weather report from the night before, I realized that the temperature stayed at thirty-eight degrees throughout the entire time I was running.  And that was that.  Thirty-eight degrees was now my favorite temperature for running.  Standing still in thirty-eight degree weather was a different story though.  Once my blood flow began to slow down I soon felt chilly and promptly retreated to Rosie's Cafe for a hot cup of coffee and a celebratory post run breakfast.

                                            San Francisco Bay this morning on the Bay Trail

It's now late October and I particularly love early morning runs at this time of year and throughout the winter time.  This morning I went for a six-mile run along the Stevens Creek and Bay Trails in Mountain View.  When I started, the temperature was forty-six degrees, the sky was clear, and the sun was barely starting to rise.  Early morning sunlight was firing up into the sky behind the Diablo Range on the other side of San Francisco Bay in front of me.  All I needed was a short sleeve dri-fit running shirt to stay comfortable.  When I returned home I felt energized.  I love morning runs and they always leave me feeling energized, but it's the mornings when the temperature is cool, crisp, and refreshing and when the sun rises later in the morning that particularly leave me feeling inspired and ready to go.  For me, the colder it is outside, the more comfortable I am while running.  When I ran the thirty-eight mile St. Croix Winter Ultra in January 2020, I rallied through a sub-zero, bitterly cold, Minnesota night without feeling too cold.  On the other hand, I hardly broke a sweat.  Maybe this is a good indicator that I would kick ass in winter ultras.  Who knows.  St. Croix is the only winter ultra I've done so far, but I'm for sure going to do more at some point.

The Best Hike to Mission Peak Ever

Our pediatrician is awesome.  When we selected her shortly before the little dude was born, we had never met her in person and we didn't know much about her, other than what we read on the Palo Alto Medical Foundation website.  The information we read mainly consisted of where she went to school and a brief summary of her interests and personal life.  We liked what we read, even though it was pretty limited, so we decided she was likely a good fit.  We were right.  We were about to wrap up Aidan's two month old check up with her, and I couldn't have been happier.  Nothing but good news about his health and development, and he behaved beautifully the entire visit.  Not that I could get on his case if he misbehaved though.  He's friggin' two months old.  When there came a pause in the conversation about his current health, I broke in.  "I know you have other people to see today, so I want to be respectful of your time, but I have two quick questions".  "Oh, go ahead!" she replied cheerfully.  Here we go. "Okay cool.  So, I really like mountains.  Is it safe for me to take him to 7,000 feet of elevation without him having any issues?"  This was on a Friday and I was tentatively planning to take the little dude to Pinecrest for a hike on Saturday so Sam could have some personal time.  The spot that I'm referring to has been documented many times on my social media and is located very close to the Dodge Ridge Ski Resort.  It's a network of trails and paths that I frequently visit to go cross country skiing during the winter and hiking during the summer.  Taking Aidan here would have involved a new level of logistical planning.  This area is about a three hour drive each way up into the mountains from our home in Sunnyvale, and it would have been the longest that he's been out and about since he was born.  Additionally, the average elevation is around 7,000 feet, hence my question to our pediatrician.  He response was honest and it made sense.  She didn't tell me "no, don't do it", but she suggested that I go hiking with him at lower elevation to start out, and see how it goes.  At two months old, his hemoglobin levels were very low, which meant that he may have a problem getting enough oxygen and he could possibly get altitude sickness.  There are lots of babies that are born and raised at high elevation, but if you're born into it, your body adapts.  It would be difficult for Aidan to go from sea level to 7,000 feet of elevation so quickly without acclimating his body first by spending time at perhaps 3,000 feet.  I generally do well with elevation, but there's been a couple of times when I've been hiking at 12,000 to 13,000 feet where I've gotten hit with altitude sickness.  And let me tell you, it sucks.  A lot.  It's bad enough when you're an adult, I wouldn't want to subject a two month old baby to it.  I'm sure there are some pediatricians out there who would have thought that I was full of shit for asking this question and would wonder if I was actually serious about bringing him to that kind of altitude.  They would have probably shot me right down.  But our pediatrician wasn't like that.  She seems to appreciate the idea of parents wanting to be active with their kids and get them outdoors.  She gets it.  Hence, she gave me more of a response along the lines of "well, that might not be a good idea right now, but here's what you can do instead" rather than just "no, no way".  

Taking this advice into account, I decided that it would be a better idea to save Pinecrest for some other time and take the little man hiking to Mission Peak instead.  Mission Peak seemed like a good alternative to Pinecrest.  It's a prominent mountain in the San Francisco Bay Area, peaking at around 2,500 feet, and offers sweeping views of Silicon Valley, San Francisco, and the Diablo Range.  There are a few ways of reaching the summit, but the route that I typically take is about six miles round trip from the Stanford Avenue parking lot, and the route that I would be taking with the little dude.  I was feeling excited as I made preparations for the adventure on Saturday morning.  When feeding babies, there comes a point where their stomachs are full and they begin to make funny grunting noises, their eyes are only partially open, they have a blank look on their face, and their movement is minimal.  We've heard nurses and other parents coin this as being "milk drunk" or "milk wasted".  I think the origins of the funny expression speak for themselves.  Sam made sure that Aidan was nice and milk drunk as I prepared for our adventure.  I packed everything he could need.  A couple of extra diapers, some wipes, a plastic grocery bag to depose of dirty diapers, an extra onesie, a cleaning cloth, a blanket, and a serving of formula in a bottle.  Once we were all ready, I got him into the carrier and we headed out.  After picking up a fresh cup of Philtered Soul brew from Philz Coffee, we made the twenty-five minute drive to the trailhead while Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon album played on the car stereo.  When we arrived I slid the little dude into the baby carrier harness that had been gifted to me by my fiend Misha.  I made sure he was secure with adequate head support, and we started up the trail.  Anyone who hikes in the Bay Area knows that Mission Peak is no cake walk.  This route involves a 2,000 foot climb over three miles on beautiful, but almost fully exposed terrain.  There was very little shade to hide during this hike.  I decided that morning that I would not have summit fever, and I would go into this with no expectations.  The little guy was only two months old and if he wasn't into it, then so be it.  He was comfortable and sleeping when we started hiking, but if he woke up and started protesting, we would turn around.  There would be other times.

When we reached the final push to the summit about an hour later I was blown away.  To my amazement and delight, Aidan had remained asleep and relaxed the entire time!  When I was making my way up the trail I placed my hands underneath him for support.  The harness held him, and his legs and arms hung freely out the sides.  I used a small flap that came with the harness to protect his head and face from the sun.  It was getting warm outside and I was sweating, especially in my chest area.  This meant that my body heat was transmitting to the little dude, so I was hoping that he wasn't getting overheated.  He wore a long sleeve Halloween themed onesie, which helped protect his arms and legs from the sun, but he didn't seem to be too hot.  There are some steep sections along the route, and going up the trail was more challenging than usual because of the extra weight.  At his appointment the previous day, Aidan weighed in at around ten and a half pounds.  He was at a healthy weight for his age, but when you have ten and a half extra pounds hanging from your chest while hauling your ass up a mountain, you can feel the difference.  The final push to the summit is narrow, technical, and rocky.  The footing here can be tricky to avoid falling, and I was more careful this time than ever before.  There were a couple of times where I was out of breath from climbing up the rocks and I told Aidan in a hoarse voice that we were almost there.  When we finally made it to the summit I was overjoyed.  "Alright, we made it buddy!" I said as I looked down at him.  He was still knocked out.  To me, if we're out and about and Aidan is fast asleep, it means that he's enjoying himself.  When he's asleep or calm, that's his way of saying that he's happy and at peace, which was exactly what I could have hoped for.  By this point, I had been to the summit of Mission Peak more times that I could count.  It was my training ground for mountain ultras and I'd climbed to the top time and time again.  I've always enjoyed it, but this time it was different.  The idea that I was standing on Mission Peak looking down over Silicon Valley thousands of feet below, holding my two month old son against my chest was a powerful tonic.  I reveled in the excitement and took it all in.  

We hung out on the summit for probably about twenty minutes taking pictures, admiring the views, and talking to people.  Other hikers were impressed that he made it up to the summit as a two month old baby.  We felt great as we descended down the trail, but I was again careful to keep my footing on point to avoid falling and potentially injuring the little dude.  On the way down we were facing Silicon Valley, the Santa Cruz Mountains, and San Francisco, so it was much easier to enjoy the views on the way down.  It was a beautiful day and we stopped and took pictures at several points along the descent.  At one point, he woke up for a minute and got a little fussy, but I adjusted his position slightly in the harness to make him more comfortable, and he fell right back asleep again.  The fresh air, the calm atmosphere, and the rocking sensation of my strides lured him into another slumber and he was once again a happy little man.  We finished up the hike, and eventually made it back down to the car a little under three hours after started.  Aidan is supposed to eat every three to four hours during the day.  Sam had gotten him pretty milk drunk before we left, but that was three and a half hours ago.  When I placed him back in the car seat, he woke up, but was relatively calm.  I immediately prepared his bottle, sat down next to him in the backseat, and held it up to his mouth.  He downed it pretty quickly, but seemed to be very content, hardly making a sound.  Once he was done feeding, I packed up and we headed back home. 

It was as short journey in the grand scheme of things, but what an adventure it had been.  Of all the times I've hiked to Mission Peak, this was by far the coolest and most memorable time thus far.  I went into this with no expectations, but the little dude was such a good sport and he did so awesome.  He may not have done much physically, but stayed nice and calm, and enjoyed the experience, which made it easier for me to get him up to the summit.  Some people along the trail were giving me kudos for taking a two month old baby all the say to the summit.  I thought it was cool of them to commend me, but it wasn't just about me.  That day I truly felt like the little dude and I were a team.  He relied on me to carry him to the top, and I drew inspiration from having him with me along the way.  When I was bottle feeding him in the car afterwards I looked at him and said a few times "we did it".  "We did it, little man".  There was no "I" in this situation, not this time.  I didn't do it.  We did it.  It was a proud dad moment.   

Put the blame in the right place

I remember hearing the tragic and horrific story about Eliza Fletcher when it broke.  She was a thirty-four year old teacher and runner living in Memphis, Tennessee who was kidnapped and ultimately murdered by a man driving an SUV while running at 4:00 in the morning on September 2nd, 2022.  Many people have spoken out about this incident on social media and have dedicated runs to her in her honor.  "Finishing Eliza's run" so to speak.  The other day I Googled Eliza Fletcher's name to read up any recent news surrounding her death.  When I Googled her name here are the top three articles that pop up.  "Eliza Fletcher's murder reminds female runners of threat while running", "Women reconsider running gear, safety after Eliza Fletcher's death", and the third one, "Man accused of killing Memphis teacher Eliza Fletcher pleads not guilty to unrelated 2021 rape charges".  

What happened to Eliza Fletcher is bad enough.  It's a horrific act, and I hope that the man who committed this act goes to prison for a long time and gets his ass kicked.  I'm using the term "man" pretty loosely because guys who do this kind of stuff aren't real men, they're pathetic cowards.  My good thoughts go out to her family and those who were a part of her life.  I wish them all the best through this difficult time.  But people, this problem only starts here.  This problem is much bigger than what happened in Memphis at 4:00 AM on September 2nd.  Out of the top three Google searches I mentioned above, the first two, I think, fully showcase the severity of this problem.  Whenever something like this happens people always look to women to be more aware of their surroundings and protect themselves more.  I understand the need for this, but it sucks that women have to be put in this position.  "Why were you running alone?" "why were you running at 4:00 AM?" "You shouldn't have been wearing what you were wearing".  Uh, say what?

The last I heard, we as Americans, women and men, can run whenever we damn well please, and we can run alone, with one another person, or with a hundred other people if we feel like it.  When this kind of thing happens we need to stop blaming the victim.  If it had been a guy who was out running alone at 4:00 AM, would we be asking why he was out alone, or why he was running so early in the morning? Hell no.  Again, I understand the need for women to protect themselves, but I don't think that creating a fear based environment for female runners is the solution to the problem.  The real solution to the problem is holding men to a higher standard and holding them accountable for their actions.

Just about every female runner I know has endured some form of bullshit from guys while running alone at least once.  They've been cat called, stared at, or harassed.  Whenever I hear these stories I feel sorry for them and the first thing out of my mouth is "I'm sorry you have to deal with that.  That's just not right".  Telling them that they shouldn't run alone, they shouldn't run at certain times of the day, etc. never even crossed my mind.  Why?  Because we shouldn't be blaming the victim.  They're not the problem.  The pathetic scumbag dudes are the problem.  And they need to be educated.

I hope sometime soon the day will come when people finally realize that men need to be held more accountable in situations like this.  I'm not being a traitor to my gender, but we really need to do better.  It's important that we make our wives, girlfriends, fiancés, female friends, sisters, cousins, moms, aunts, etc. feel like they don't have to be so scared of running alone or at certain times of the day.  Unfortunately this won't be the last time something like this happens, but I hope that one of these days, the Google results will yield more articles about tips for parents on how to education their sons about these types of horrific acts and harsher sentences for the perpetrators of these crimes.  That is where the real problem lies.       

From Runner to Working Dad Runner: How It's Going So Far

On December 11th, 2021 when Sam and I found out we were expecting a baby (yes, I remember the exact date!), a lot of thoughts were going through my head, most of them positive.  As I processed the news and wrapped my head around what was going on over the next week I was thinking a lot about the future.  The thought of "I won't be able to run anymore" never crossed my mind.  It was always "I'll find a way to do it".  I knew that my life was going to change, but I was determined to not completely throw it away.

And I'm happy to say that my determination has been paying off.  So far, at least.  I'm only five weeks in, so I'm taking it one week and one month at a time.  When the dust settled, I was excited as all hell to be having a baby.  Just weeks beforehand, I didn't know if I would ever be a dad.  I was pretty indifferent about it.  I always thought "if it happens, awesome, if not, that's cool too".  But now it was happening and I couldn't wait.  We soon found out we'd be having a boy.  There was a lot we had to do to get ready for his arrival, and part of the preparation was planning for how I could work running into this new life that I would soon find myself living.  Why was I so determined to keep my running going you might ask?  Well, if you read these blogs regularly and if you know me pretty well, you probably already know the answer.  It speaks for itself.  But in reality, running is one of the two sports that I discovered in life that really changed me.  Skiing, which I discovered at ten years old, was the other one.  I'll do a deep dive into that story in a separate blog post sometime.  Running has not only kept me physically fit and healthy for over thirteen years now, but it's one of the best psychological exercises out there in my opinion.  There's nothing quite like grabbing my iPod, changing into my running clothes, and hitting the pavement or trail to clear my mind.  Running has changed me for the better as a person and I knew that I wouldn't be able to be a good dad to our little dude if I didn't continue to make it part of my life.  

As the pregnancy progressed, I thought more and more about how I was going to continue my running.  I eventually simply told myself I'd do the best I could and I should keep my expectations low for the first couple of months.  That was good enough for me.  Even if I could only run eight to ten miles a week for a little while, that would work just fine.  So far, I've managed to average about twenty miles of running per week since Aidan was born.  And I'll say, weaving running into my life while being a father to a newborn baby takes creativity, time management, and the willingness to blow off sleep.  Which means it isn't always easy.  Most week days I run two or three miles.  They've been at all times of the day, depending on my schedule.  I've gone on weekday runs at times like 10:30 PM, 7:30 AM, 8:00 PM, and 4:00 AM.  Because I don't have to work on weekends and I have more flexibility, I'm able to run a little longer on weekend days, around six to eight miles.  Basically, I squeeze it in whenever I have time.  If Aidan and Sam are both asleep, that's the best opportunity.  One particular morning a couple of weeks ago, Sam finished feeding Aidan around 4:00 AM and they both fell asleep shortly after.  I was about to doze off too, but then I thought to myself "this is a great time to go run, let's do it!".  I got out of bed, put my running clothes on, and managed to do a three mile run, a twenty-minute strength training workout at the gym, take a shower, and do a couple of things for work before crawling back into bed at 5:45 AM for an hour and a half long nap before getting the rest of my day started.  I'm a morning person by nature, so the mornings that I can get up really early and get a run in and go to the gym are the mornings when I feel the best and the most productive.  I would love for that to happen every morning, and I'm going to try my best to do so, but when it can't happen that way, going for night time runs and switching it up sometimes is cool too.  Sam has also been super supportive when it comes to getting out for runs, for which I'm incredibly thankful.

And I'll tell you man, the actual runs themselves have felt different since I've become a dad.  We runners often talk about experiencing the infamous runner's high.  I've experienced many since Aidan was born, even if they're only three mile runs.  I mentioned above that I consider runs to be as much of a psychological exercise as a physical one.  When I run and unpack all of the awesome and challenging times that Sam and I have gone through with the little dude so far, the feeling is simply electrifying!  Sometimes it makes me feel like I could run forever.  Like I'm running across a fluffy cloud.  It makes me want to share my running with Aidan, and I know I will get the chance to do so soon.  We've taken him on a lot of adventures already and he really seems to like being outside, just like his parents.  When he's outside he usually sleeps a lot, which to me, is his way of saying he's enjoying himself.  I'll never force running on him by any means, but I definitely plan on exposing him to it quite a bit.  He may love it, he may hate it, or he may be indifferent.  We'll wait and see.

Even though I never planned on giving up running when Aidan was born, I often found myself wondering when I'd start racing again.  My plan was to just take it as it comes.  So far it's actually been easier to continue running while fathering a newborn baby than I thought it would be, so I recently decided that I would sign up for a couple of races in the fall.  I'm going to be doing a local 10K run for San Jose Vietnamese Running Club in early October, and I'm planning to run the Berkeley Half Marathon in mid-November.  I don't plan on signing up for any ultras until next year, and we'll see which ones those will be.  Hopefully Canyons 100K again, and some others, depending on how the next several months go, and what will fit into my schedule.  Just like going on daily runs, it will take some working around, planning, creativity, and time management, but I sure as hell am up for the challenge.  I've learned a lot over the past five weeks, but one of the most important things is I've learned that if I have a newborn baby, especially for the first time, I can be a good parent, a good partner, and be productive at work without completely throwing away my own needs and interests.  If I don't take care of myself, I can't be any of those other things.  I would just be a miserable jerk.  But I've learned that in order to make it all happen, I need to look at it as a challenge rather than a "you can't" kind of situation.  When you view obstacles in life as challenges rather than the end of the road, you find a way to work around them.  I don't know what the next several weeks, months, and even years will throw at me, but so far, I can say I'm the happiest I've ever been, and I'm determined to do my best to keep it that way, despite the challenges of fatherhood.  Because if you're miserable, then what's the point, right?

The First Two Weeks Of Fatherhood: What A Journey So Far

Day 1 - 8/7/2022 - Lucille Packard Children's Hospital, Palo Alto, California

Happy Birthday Aidan! Wow, dude.  Just wow.  To say that was one of the wildest days of my life would be an absurd understatement.  There are so many emotions to unpack, such a story to tell, man.  When I say it was a "wild" day, I'm using that term in the best possible context.  The emotions felt were indescribable and one must simply have had to have been there to truly understand.  The early morning began with some difficulties.  My fiancé Samantha had been steadily dilating throughout the night, however after several hours in active labor, she was still only seven centimeters dilated.  She was having difficulty reaching the required ten centimeters to have our little dude pass through the birth canal.  She was on an epidural, and was having strong contractions.  All of the normal things you'd expect during this stage of labor, but since she was not dilating any further, each contraction was causing Aidan's heart rate to drop.  Each time that happened the nurses came into our room and had Sam switch positions, including being on all fours, in an attempt to reposition Aidan and get his heart rate back up.  That sucked.  It was very uncomfortable for Sam and it was hard seeing her in distress, but she took it like a champ.  

At around 7:00 AM after arriving at the hospital about eleven hours earlier, we were advised by the staff that the best route to take would be a cesarean section (C-section).  Sam was still not dilated enough, and attempting to have a traditional vaginal birth at this point would put both her and Aidan's health at risk.  Sam was scared and not happy that she would need a C-section, but we agreed to it, per the staff's advice.  I sat next to Sam in the surgery room behind the curtain while they operated on the other side.  I held her hand, assured her that everything was okay, and within minutes, the staff handed Aidan over to us.  Upon seeing this little dude for the first time, I immediately began crying.  Sam was ecstatic and overjoyed as she held him, as was I.  She was likely too out of it to cry, but me? Forget it man.  I was sitting there sobbing like a child.  I've had a lot of highs and lows in my life, but this experience was truly emotional and life changing.  Like I said above, one must experience it first hand to truly understand.  He was officially born at 8:52 AM on Sunday 8/7/2022, measuring nineteen inches, and weighing seven pounds, three ounces.

The rest of the day was exciting, but also a blur.  After they sowed Sam back up, we spent about an hour in the recovery area.  The nurses monitored Sam and Aidan while I took some pictures.  We were soon sent from the recovery area to our room in the maternity section, where we would be spending the rest of our visit.  It was Sunday morning and we were due to be discharged on Wednesday 8/10/2022.  We finally made it to our room at around 11:30 AM.  Aidan was pretty quiet for most of the day.  The nurses taught me how to swaddle him so both of his arms would be secure, and advised that we needed to feed him every two to three hours, not exceeding four hours between feeding.  I also had the honor of changing my first diaper.  I'll tell you man, once you change a few diapers and swaddle your baby a few times, it becomes pretty routine.  Still, I wanted to master the skill of wrapping him up just right so his arms would be secure.  When wrapped properly he resembled a little human shawarma.  Or a burrito, as Sam put it. 

There were phone calls made and texts exchanged with family and friends throughout the day.  The nurses stopped by frequently to tend to Sam and Aidan, we ordered meals from room service, and took naps.  Most importantly, we reveled in the joy of our little dude finally entering the world.  He was born with a pretty impressive amount of dark hair.  Since Sam and I both have dark hair, and quite a bit of it I might add, I guess it was to be expected.  Even though a lot happened on that first day and night, I will never forget it.  We were now a party of three and I couldn't have been happier!

Day 2 - 8/8/2022 - Lucille Packard Children's Hospital, Palo Alto, California

Second day of being a dad, and it's so awesome!  I can't stop looking at him.  He's just such a sweet little dude.  Sam and I walked him for a few laps around the maternity ward today and I wanted to show him off and introduce him to everyone.  The day started out with some early morning feeding, and we eventually ordered breakfast for ourselves.  I have to hand it to the kitchen at this hospital.  They whip up some pretty damn good meals.  I also discovered, much to my delight, that there was a small kitchenette down the hall with a Keurig coffee machine.  Next to it was a larger machine that dispensed drinking water, along with a small pantry of crackers, condiments, and soup broth.  Despite the sleep deprivation, I was surprised what a little coffee and breakfast can do to improve a guy's hazy mood.  Sam is continuing to heal pretty well from her C-section surgery.  Aidan got a hearing test today, which he passed.  He also got his Hepatitis B shot, his first bath, and he was circumcised in the afternoon.  Right after his bath and before he went into surgery the nurses gave his hair a pretty dope combover, which seemed fitting.  

Nighttime of day 2 was pretty busy.  All of the nurses have been super helpful so far and we had heard from them that this night could particularly be restless due to what they call "cluster feeding".  Sam has been breastfeeding Aidan every two to three hours, but during cluster feeding, he may want to feed every hour, or even continuously.  This is because he is getting the hang of latching onto Sam's breast for feeding.  Even from the beginning, he it seemed to come naturally to him.  But now that it's day two and he's getting the process down, he wants to feed more.  Pretty wild how nature works sometimes.  He just knows.

Day 3 - 8/9/2022 - Lucille Packard Children's Hospital, Palo Alto, California

Man, this cluster feeding thing is no joke.  Aidan fed probably about once an hour from 11 PM the night before until around 4:30 AM this morning.  He got a little fussy after the last feeding, but I held him in my arms and propped my back up against the couch arm with pillows behind my back, holding him tightly against me.  Eventually the little dude drifted back off to sleep and I was nodding off as well.  Finally, around 5 AM, I gently put him back into the bassinet.  He, Sam, and I all slept for another two and a half hours until around 7:30 AM, which felt pretty nice.

After another morning feed at around 7:45 AM, it was breakfast time for us.  We've been getting three meals a day from the kitchen at the hospital, which as been helping me to keep my energy levels up.  Sometimes we have to balance feeding the little dude and tending to his needs with our own needs, but we've been able to pull it off so far.  Today, for instance, we fed him, I changed him, then afterwards while he was still mellow, we ate our meals.  

According to our nurse who weighed him today, he lost about 6.9% of his body weight over the last couple of days (well within the 10-12% healthy range), but since yesterday he has gained a gram of weight.  This was awesome news!  This meant that he was feeding very well and Sam was lactating phenomenally.  The staff expects babies to lose a little weight over the next several days since birth while they're learning to feed, but they eventually gain it back.  Aidan was already starting to gain it back.  Although cluster feeding could be a possibility tonight, Aidan seems to be relatively more calm than yesterday.  The phone calls and text messages from friends and family continued to roll in, and I've been super excited about all of the positive attention he's been getting.  I've never experienced anything like it.

Sam is still healing up really well.  She was a little sore from the breastfeeding today, but our nurse gave her a helpful tip of gently pulling Aidan's lower lip down a little once he latches on.  She tried that and it's made a difference.  She was even able to take a shower tonight, which isn't easy given the healing incision on her abdomen.

Day 4 - 8/10/2022 - Lucille Packard Children's Hospital, Palo Alto, California

It's discharge day!  Meaning if all goes well, we'll be going home this afternoon.  Aidan slept more soundly through the night so even though there were middle of the night feedings, we all managed to get a couple of clusters of sleep that lasted around two and a half hours, which was nice.  That was probably our best night so far, although I had a funny encounter in the early morning.  At around 7:00 AM I checked the little dude's diaper.  He needed a change, but when I finished up with him, I noticed his face and chest were wet.  I didn't know why so I asked the nurse.  Turned out he had peed all over his own face while I was changing his diaper.  In my hazy, sleep deprived state I hadn't even noticed.  Dude, you peed all over your own face LOL.  The Keurig machine in the kitchenette down the hall was still my best friend.  I made multiple trips to the kitchenette each day to refill Sam and I's water bottles, but my morning trips to the Keurig coffee machine were about a close to a religious experience as I could have gotten.

This morning was filled with multiple staff members coming in to check on Aidan and Sam, and give us helpful information for at home.  Among the visitors were nurses, pediatricians, OBGYNs, a lactation consultant, etc.  We were happy that we were being so well taken care of, but the situation was becoming restless and all three of us were ready to get the hell out of there.  The three of us got some laps in around the maternity ward after lunch and all of the nurses and staff were in awe of how cute Aidan was.  It seemed like everyone loved him, which made me love him even more than I already did.

The discharge process was rushed and not pleasant.  We completed all of our paperwork, submitted it to the hospital, stopped by the pharmacy to get Sam's pain medication, and headed home.  Aidan wasn't having any of it.  As soon as we strapped him into the car seat he protested the only way he knew how.  He cried.  A lot, man.  During the ride home Sam kept him company in the backseat while I cautiously drove through the streets of Palo Alto and down the 101 through rush hour traffic.  The poor guy was just so overwhelmed.  This was natural.  Imagine if you were being strapped into a car seat, going outside in the heat and sunshine, and riding in a car for the very first time in your life.  You'd probably be overwhelmed too.  And when you're three days old, the only way you can express the fact that you're even slightly overwhelmed, let alone super overwhelmed, is by crying up a storm, which he did the whole damn way home.

Finally after a chaotic twenty-five minutes we arrived at home, our spacious two-bedroom apartment in Sunnyvale.  Once we had Aidan situated and in his new bassinet, he instantly calmed down.  We had some Thai food for dinner, which was nice, however after dinner, things weren't so nice.  Things got a little hectic and physically painful for Sam and when we finally turned out the light for some rest it was much needed.

Day 5 - 8/11/2022

Today was our first full day home with the little dude and pretty much felt like the best of both worlds.  There were awesome moments along with incredibly frustrating ones.  From what I've understood so far, four day old babies essentially have two moods: crying and not crying. If they're happy and content, they're not crying.  But every other emotion comes in the form of crying.  They can be sad, thirsty, hungry, uncomfortable, whatever. Over time as his psychological components and personality evolve, he'll be able to express himself more effectively, but at this point, this is the only form of communication he knows.

The morning and afternoon were a lot of fun! He was getting fussy so I decided to take him out onto our balcony, which overlooks the courtyard in our apartment complex.  Within seconds of stepping outside he stopped fussing.  I sat on our balcony chair with him in my arms and he was asleep within minutes.  I wanted Sam to be able to get a nap in, so I decided to take him for a walk outside.  We walked around the courtyard and eventually went and sat in a comfy oversized lounger with pillows by the pool.  I loved every second of it! Sitting by the pool with my little dude passed out in my arms was one of the most amazing things I ever felt.  In the middle of the night we came back down to the pool and relaxed under the stars.  Aidan had just finished his 1:00 AM feeding and I wanted to get him to unwind.  He passed out in my arms as we sat there next to the lit up pool and admired the lights, stars, and full moon.  It truly was a game-changing experience.  When we eventually made it back upstairs Sam was asleep and Aidan and I both drifted off peacefully.

Day 6 - 8/12/2022

During a morning walk downstairs with Aidan I was told by our neighbors that I looked pretty well rested for being a brand new dad.  The sleep deprivation is real, don't get me wrong.  But so far I've found that getting pockets of sleep, even if I need to wake up in between, has worked out for me.  With a little coffee and calories I've been largely able to function throughout the day. 

There was an unfortunate mix-up with our pediatrician.  Our first meeting with her was supposed to be this morning, but upon arrival, we learned that we had been rescheduled for tomorrow since she had called in sick.  It was frustrating, but the little dude did great in the car seat and during the car ride.  Much better than the day we brought him home.  We decided to bring him along for a Target run while we were out.  We put his baby carrier in the shopping cart and he was knocked out the whole time.  He's such a sweet little dude, especially when he's chill.  Lots of shoppers were complimenting him.

Things were good until around 10:00 PM.  After that, all hell broke loose.  Despite several feeds and diaper changes, I was having a difficult time calming Aidan down.  I tried taking him out on the balcony and for a walk downstairs, but feeding seemed to be his only salvation.  Sam is such a trooper and I'm incredibly proud of her.  The physical toll being taken on her body was substantial.  We eventually decided to just give him a pacifier, and he finally passed out at 3:00 AM.  Thank God.

Day 7 - 8/13/2022

We're starting to get somewhat of a routine down with our little man.  Since we've gotten home, we've starting our mornings between 9:00 and 10:00 AM.  Aidan will typically get fed soon after we wake up, and I'll make coffee and breakfast for Sam and I while she's taking care of him.

We had our pediatrician appointment today.  We were relieved that he was doing well and was a healthy guy, but Sam was still concerned about the physical pain that breastfeeding was causing her.  Later that afternoon I took the little dude down to the pool for a couple of hours so Sam could get some much needed rest.  To my delight, I was able to finally get a three mile run in after dinner.  It was my first run in a week and had to be done at 10:00 PM, but it felt super awesome to unpack all of the events of the last few days over a nighttime run through the neighborhood.

The night went better than the previous night.  Aidan was calmer and we sat out by the pool again admiring the night sky while Sam slept at 3:00 A.M.  although he wasn't crying as much, getting him to sleep was a challenge.  After several feedings, including tapping into the formula so Sam could have a break, we eventually were able to get a few hours of sleep at 6:00 AM.  It's about time bro, dang. 

Day 8 - 8/14/2022

Happy one week, little man! Today was a great day.  We didn't have any appointments or anywhere to be which was nice.  Earlier this morning we decided to give Sam a break and give Aidan some formula.  Breastfeeding is best of course, however formula is perfectly okay if Mom needs a break, as confirmed by our pediatrician.  Yes, Baby's needs are important, but moms: your physical comfort and psychological well-being matter too. Same goes for the dads.  Seriously man.  In order to take care of a baby, it's important to make sure you're being taken care of as well.  Sam also pumped for the first time today, so we rotated with formula and pumped milk.  It felt good that I could finally help with feeding.

The little dude and I made a coffee run over to Philz Coffee, my favorite coffee shop and picked up some doughnuts while we were out.  I finally got to try out my new dad shirt that Sam brought for me.  What a sweet invention.  It's essentially a strongly built v-neck shirt with a kangaroo like pouch on the chest area for carrying babies up to fifteen pound from birth.  Two thumbs up, five stars, highly recommend!

That evening we joked about how maybe we can just ask Aidan to go drink some more amniotic fluid when he cries, or maybe Sam can just put him back inside the womb until he calms down.  Or maybe we can just fill a beach ball full of amniotic fluid and put him in there.  We had a lot of laughs over that.  I got to go for another run while Sam and the little dude napped, and we went for a family walk to the park as the sun was setting.  Having the three of us out for a walk was a great feeling.  I loved that Sam was getting out and moving.  This will no doubt speed up her recovery.

Tonight was definitely one of the better sleeping nights as well.  We woke up for feeding every few hours and we had our cool night pool session under the stars, but all three of us were able to get large pockets of sleep.

Day 9 - 8/15/2022

The little dude spent a lot of time outdoors today.  It's interesting, when he gets fussy and starts spazzing out, as soon as we step outside with him, he instantly calms down.  Perhaps it's the fresh air or the sounds of the outdoors.  Or he might take after his mom and dad who look to the outdoors for psychological nourishment.  Either way, it's super awesome that he seems to like it.

Sam and I both sat with him on our balcony for a while and she breastfed outside for the first time.  She was feeling better so she decided to make a go at it again.  It was less painful for her, but oddly, his feedings during the afternoon seemed to be shorter.  We were accustomed to him feeding for thirty, sometimes forty minutes.  This afternoon was a series of fifteen to seventeen minute feeds, but his diaper business was still keeping up, so we weren't too concerned.  He's been going through about three wet diapers and six dirty diapers a day on average, so a total of around ten.  I noticed some diaper rash going on earlier this morning so I began applying "butt paste" to help treat the nuisance.  

We went for another family stroll for about fifty minutes as the sun was setting.  Little dude got to enjoy the outdoors, Sam got some walking in to speed up her recovery from her C-section, and it felt good for me to go for a walk even since I didn't get a chance to run today.  Aidan looked like roadkill in his stroller bassinet; his arms and legs were spread out, his mouth open, his eyes shut.  When we returned home, I took him to the store for a grocery run while Sam took a much needed shower.  

Even though he got rest outdoors today, the little man seemed fussier than usual.  Tonight was a little chaotic.  Sam was pumping, I was trying to make dinner for all of us, and Aidan was being fussy.  Somehow the two of us managed to calm him down and eat dinner eventually.  I had an uneasy feeling about how the night was going to go.  It was midnight and he was still awake.  I held him in my arms on the couch as we watched TV and rocked him until he eventually fell asleep.  Now was our chance.  We all headed for the bedroom.  

To my amazement, all three of us slept for several hours.  We all went down around 12:20 AM and when I opened my eyes, my watch read 5:05 AM.  I was relieved and pretty rested, but also a little scared.  It had been five hours since we last fed him.  Off and on throughout the night I heard cute little whimpers, but no crying.  I sat up in the darkness and looked over at him in the bassinet.  He laid there motionless next to Sam, who was also passed out.  Clearly, we would have been woken up if he had been crying, right?  Either way, he miraculously slept quite a few hours.  We fed him at 5:20 AM and he seemed to be doing okay, although he was very sleepy.  I was looking up various articles on my phone and based on what I read, going five hours without feeding a newborn was not ideal, but not a major issue.  Damn man, the little guy really had me there for a few minutes.  Despite his drowsiness, he soiled a diaper, which brought a lot of relief to both of us.  When it was time to go back to sleep I decided to take a precaution and set an alarm for 9:00 AM, three hours from now, incase he didn't wake us up again.

Day 10 - 8/16/2022

The little dude was eating pretty good after going so long between feedings the night before.  According to multiple sources on the internet, going five hours without feeding a newborn isn't ideal, but not the end of the world.  Still, we were relieved that he was feeding well and his diaper pattern remained consistent.  

Around lunch time we all decided to go down to the pool together.  We brought our lunch downstairs to eat and got a nice spot in the shade since it was a warm day and approaching ninety degrees Fahrenheit.  Aidan did pretty well in the heat, but when he was turning red and limbs were feeling hot, we decided to head back upstairs so he could cool off.

Later on, after we caught up with some family members over the phone and on Zoom, I was able to get another three mile run in, despite the sweltering heat.  Running is a big part of my life, a part that I planned on continuing once the little dude was born.  So far, I've been able to do it, which is super rad.  Not only is it good for me physically, but it's a great psychological exercise as well.  I know Sam will be back at it shortly after she recovers.  She is also a runner and although she took a hiatus from the sport once she passed the six month mark of her pregnancy, she spent time in the gym keeping up with her fitness all the way up until giving birth.

Tonight we went on a family walk on a bike path at Rancho San Antonio Open Space Preserve (known locally as simply "Rancho").  It was still pretty warm out, but we had a pleasant stroll.  That is until the little guy became hangry.  We managed to keep him somewhat calm until we got back to the car.  Upon arrival, Sam took him into the car and breastfed him in the backseat in the parking lot at Rancho.  She's such a trooper.  It felt surreal that she was breastfeeding our kid in the parking lot of one of our local trail running stomping grounds.  It was crazy, man.  We definitely couldn't wait to share that story with our friends.

We got take out Greek food on the way home, and we managed to get Aidan to sleep relatively easily.  Tonight we made it a point to set our alarms to feed him on time throughout the night.

Day 11 - 8/17/2022

I had a therapy session this morning at 8:00 AM.  I typically go every week, but I skipped the previous week's session because Sam and I were still in the hospital.  There were a lot of stories to tell, and it felt great to unpack all of the emotions felt over the last couple of weeks with my therapist.

After my virtual session Sam and my little dude were asleep, so I took the opportunity to go for a three mile run and hit the gym downstairs afterwards.  It had been about ten days since I had gone to the gym so I did about half of my usual work out to ease back into it.  Back at our unit when I got out of the shower Sam was feeding Aidan.  Since I had gotten some "me" time in this morning, I encouraged her to get some more sleep and told her I'd take over for a while.

Little dude and I sat downstairs outside for about an hour and a half.  He slept in my lap while I sipped my coffee.  This has become a daily routine for us.  There's a shaded patio area with comfortable furniture downstairs near the pool where I've been sitting with him every morning and sipping coffee while he sleeps in my lap.  We greet passersby and most of them give him compliments.  It's a cool way to queue up a conversation with our neighbors. 

The little man seems to be into music, even at ten days old.  A popular jam we play for him are lofi hip hop instrumentals.  I love these beats and when we play them, he seems relaxed and in tune with the melodies.  When we got upstairs Sam was still getting some sleep, so we listened to Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon and David Bowie's Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust.  I love these albums and he seemed to dig them too, which I thought was super rad.  We'll probably stick this type of chill music for now.  My favorite bands are Motley Crue, The Sex Pistols, and Limp Bizkit.  We can wait a little while before we introduce those bands to him LOL.  Sam is also into music and will be introducing him to Tool, her favorite band, at some point.  Who knows what kind of music he'll be into when he's older.  But either way, it would be cool if he at least appreciates our jams.

Sam got some good rest in, and that evening we all went out and ran some errands together.  After dinner Aidan was knocked out.  It was around 11:00 PM and we wanted to feed him before we all crashed before waking up for the 3:00 AM feeding.  The interesting thing was we couldn't get him to wake up.  He was okay, just in a deep sleep.  We tried tickling him, rubbing his head, and gently pulling on his limbs to no avail.  When he finally did wake up, we both exclaimed "hey buddy!".  Seems the little dude didn't quite share this enthusiasm and looked kind of pissed that we disturbed him.  Shame on us.  Before long he was being fed, and all was forgiven.  Off to bed we went.

Day 12 - 8/18/2022

The nights seem to be getting easier with our little man.  Either that or my body is adapting to the sleep deprivation.  Or maybe both.  We started out with our morning routine of waking up around 9:00 AM, followed by a feeding, breakfast for Sam and I, then coffee and chilling downstairs with Aidan while Sam took a nap.  

That afternoon we listened to some more music together (Grateful Dead's Anthem of the Sun album) and I gave him a couple of bottle feedings.  I managed to get an afternoon run and gym session squeezed in once the little dude fell asleep.  

When Sam woke up we had a conversation.  She told me that over the last few weeks she detected a small shift in my demeanor.  Even though I was still my usual self for the most part, I had become more impatient.  This was starting to get on Sam's nerves and I'm glad she said something.  Just like most dads, I don't want to baby the little dude and I want him to grow to be a strong and independent guy.  It seemed that sometimes he was being unnecessarily pampered.  That's where I was wrong.  The little guy was only eleven days old, it's not like he was five years old.  It's perfectly okay to nurture and pamper newborn babies.  That doesn't mean it has to be that way forever.  Right now he's still trying to learn how to exist in the world, and his needs have to be met.  Simple as that.  I apologized to Sam and told her I'd work on being more patient when it came to Aidan's needs.  Luckily we discussed this before it became a major issue, and we were okay after talking it through.

That night we went back to Rancho for another family walk.  Man, it was so much better than on Tuesday night.  The air was much cooler, there weren't nearly as many bugs, and the little dude was way more mellow.  We finished up our walk just after the sun set and darkness began to blanket the foothills of the Santa Cruz Mountains.

Day 13 - 8/19/2022

We had a good day today! Aidan had a follow up pediatrician appointment today at 10:30 AM.  Going into the appointment, Sam had some concerns about the little dude's shorter feedings and if he was eating enough.  His diaper patterns hadn't changed, so I was less concerned, but it I would feel more at ease once we asked the pediatrician.  He grew another three quarters of an inch and he now weighed in at seven pounds five ounces, surpassing his birth weight.  This was awesome news.  He was in "perfect health" according to the doctor, which brought both of us a great sense of relief.

When we left the building I have Sam a big hug and kiss and reminded her how much of an awesome job she was doing.  We decided to celebrate by making a family trip to Orbit Coffee Company, a Vietnamese coffee house in San Jose that we've been wanting to try.  The iced coffees and beignets sure did not disappoint.

Later that afternoon back home, we reveled in how much the little dude was evolving every day.  He was now making eye contact, making funny facial expressions, using his arms more, and making adorable, yet somewhat strange noises when he slept.  It was all very exciting to us.  If he had this much personality at twelve days old, I was eager to see how he'd be at one month and three months old.  Time would tell.

Day 14 - 8/20/2022

We awoke five hours after feeding the little dude again, but this time we weren't concerned.  The pediatrician we saw on Friday advised that there was nothing wrong with babies sleeping five or six hours throughout the night.  In fact, she had a niece who once went eight hours sleeping through the night at two weeks old.  This brought us a sense of relief.  We resumed his feeding as usual.

After some coffee and patio time, Aidan fell asleep, so once I got back up to our apartment I placed him in the bassinet next to Sam, who was also napping and drove to Rancho to go for a run.  It was mid-day and pretty warm, but I got a good three miles of bike path and trail running in.  When we got home I thought of bringing Aidan to the gym with me in the baby carrier and placing him away from all the machines and equipment while I worked out, but Sam and I determined that wasn't the best idea.  Instead we hung out by the pool while Sam took a nap.  

There were a handful of people down by the pool, which was pretty cool.  The little dude was getting a lot of attention.  He made friends with a little six month old Indian girl while her dad and I chatted.  At one point I walked over and dipped my legs into the hot tub as I sat on the side, holding him in my arms.  It was a nice moment.  It almost felt like being on vacation at a resort.  Sam and I both like to travel and we hope to bring the little dude on trips not only to local places like Lake Tahoe and Carmel, but possibly even overseas.  Sam recalls having traveled with her parents at two years old from California to her dad's hometown of Capetown, South Africa.  If her parents could do it, why couldn't we? But every kid is different.  Time would tell how well the little dude would manage traveling.

Day 15 - 8/21/2022

I was feeling a little out of it this morning.  Last night the little dude woke us up every two hours for feeding.  Cluster feeding can happen at any time during this stage and we speculated that last night was the result of him going through a growth spurt.  I felt kind of bad that the night before I kept dozing off next to Sam in bed while she was feeding Aidan.  I know there isn't much I can do to help if she's feeding, but I like to be there for moral support or in case she needs anything.  I'll try to work on staying awake from now on.

I also felt bad that Sam hadn't left the apartment the day before, so I suggested we all go have Sunday brunch after we took care of a quick errand with one of her clients.  We were out and about for three hours and ate at Metro City on Murphy Street in downtown Sunnyvale.  It was great fun! We were acquainted with some of the staff there, and they congratulated us and admired how cute the little dude was.  He received a great deal of attention from our waitress and passersby as well, since we were sitting outside by the sidewalk.  About half way through, he also wanted brunch and began fussing, so I bottle fed him at the table.  I'll tell you man, babies are super helpful for starting conversations with strangers in public.  I enjoy being out and talking with people in public, and with a baby it helps to jump start the dialogue, especially if the other person also has a baby.  I've recently found myself smiling in public whenever I see a baby, whereas a year ago, I wouldn't have thought much of it.  During my runs in the last couple of weeks I've also found myself saying hey to random people with babies and having short conversations before continuing onward.  Funny how things change when you have a kid.

Today's run was really rad.  I ran six miles, further than I had earlier in the week.  My mind was processing all of the good times and hard times over the last couple of weeks.  So many challenges, yet so many rewards.  I reveled in the experience as I ran down the Stevens Creek Trail in Mountain View.  The early evening air was warm, and Rancid's Let's Go album pumped from my headphones.  It was a pretty joyous feeling.  I managed to get twenty-one miles of running and a couple of gym workouts in during the second week, which felt great.  I've been on paternity leave from work for the last two weeks.  I have one more week left, so I better enjoy it before I weave work back into my routine.

One thing we were still concerned about were Aidan's shorter breastfeeding sessions.  He was getting enough to eat, but we were confused as to why he wasn't feeding longer.  That night he had a twent-six minute feed, which was reassuring, however we still were curious.  We had an appointment with a lactation specialist scheduled the following day, which would give us an opportunity to ask some questions and hopefully provide us with some psychological comfort.