Canyons 2023 Part 1: Up Against The Elements

Okay, spoiler alert: I didn't finish Canyons this year.  Things started out pretty good on race day and I had high hopes.  But once the heat kicked in, my condition steadily declined.  That's how it goes sometimes in ultramarathons.  Sometimes  I feel good throughout most of, or all of the race.  Most of the time it's a series of ups and downs.  And there are also instances like Canyons 2023, when I start off feeling good and I slowly deteriorate.  That's okay, as long as I can hold myself together until I get to the finish line, which I've done numerous times in the past.  Unfortunately that didn't happen this time and I tapped out at mile forty.  When I left the aid station at No Hands Bridge at mile thirty-six, I was convinced that I could still finish.  I was falling apart, but I was ahead of the cutoff times and all I had to do was keep moving forward.  I made a right at the intersection of highway 49 and Old Foresthill Road and began a horrendous two-mile walk up the winding mountain road.  It was completely exposed, the sun was shining right above me, and it was eighty-eight degrees Fahrenheit.  I was dying.  Eventually the course diverted off the road and onto the Confluence trail.  From there, it was two miles to the next aid station at Mammoth Bar.  When I arrived I was greeted enthusiastically by volunteers, which was uplifting, but I felt like shit.  I was completely miserable during that climb up Old Foresthill Road, and my mood only slightly improved when the course dumped me out on to the Confluence trail.  As I sat down and sipped on an ice cold Coke, the volunteer briefed me on what I could expect between here and the next aid station at Driver's Flat Road.  "It's eight miles to the next aid station.  The next three miles are all uphill, and it's exposed."  Those three points made by the volunteer were the final three nails in the coffin for me.  After hearing the first point about the eight miles, I thought "okay, maybe I can do this".  When I heard "three miles uphill" I thought "oh man, I might not be able to do this".  But when I heard "and it's exposed" I thought "okay, nope, I'm done".  I still decided to think it over.  It took twenty minutes of sitting in a camping chair deliberating my next move, and trying to regroup, but I ultimately decided to call it a day.  I only saw things getting even more ugly from there on out.

Up until about mile thirty-seven it had been a good day.  In fact, aside from the weather, it seemed like just about every factor that would contribute to the outcome of this race was working in my favor.  It had been a turbulent week leading up to the race.  All three of us, Sam, Aidan, and myself all had Covid.  This was the little dude's first time getting sick.  He had a good eight-and-a-half month run, but all babies get sick at some point, and his time had come.  Thankfully it didn't hit him too hard.  The previous Friday, eight days before the race, he had a fever and was pretty cranky, but his fever broke within twenty-four hours.  He had a few coughs after that, but was otherwise feeling much better.  Sam and I both managed to get through it relatively easily.  I had a few sniffles and some congestion, but that was it.  The thought of going to Canyons while being Covid positive irked me.  Even though all three of us were virtually symptom free the Thursday before the race, I still had a positive test.  I wrestled with conscience.  I just wanted to have a negative test so I could be in the clear and I wouldn't have to worry about anything.  After we arrived in Auburn on Friday evening, Sam and I both took a test and both tested negative.  If we were negative, then Aidan definitely was.  I was relieved and delighted.  I really felt like the gods were smiling on me.  As we had dinner at Public Station that night, I was feeling cautiously optimistic about Saturday.  I no longer had Covid, my training had been pretty solid, I had good vibes in my head, and I felt ready.  There was only one problem:  the ridiculous heat wave that Auburn was having that weekend.  Temperatures on Saturday were forecasted to be in the high eighties with lots of sunshine.  These conditions were rare, but not unheard of in April.  I don't do well running in heat, but I tried to not let it deter me.  I could still have a good race, I would just have to contend with the weather.  It wouldn't be ideal, but I had ran in heat before and knew what I needed to do.

On Saturday morning at 3:15 AM, my alarm broke the silence in our motel room at Super 8.  Sam and Aidan were good sports about waking up in the middle of the night to give me ride to the start line in downtown Auburn.  I was super thankful that they had both joined me on this journey.  Aidan was my biggest inspiration when I ran FOURmidable two and a half months prior and he continues to inspire me every day.  Sam has been nothing short of one-hundred percent supportive and encouraging.  I fumbled around getting myself ready, and after having some coffee, courtesy of the tiny coffee machine in our room, we headed for downtown.  I arrived at the start line around 4:25 AM, thirty-five minutes before race start.  I quickly located Arjun, who had also arrived in town the night before.  We had both run FOURmidable together and it was cool to be back in Auburn running with him again.  This was going to be his first 100K, and man, he sure knew how to pick them.  But then again, Canyons was also my first 100K, so it takes one to know one.  We hung out for a little while in the pre-dawn darkness checking out the scene.  It was cool to see how much this race had evolved over the last few years since it became part of the UTMB series.  There was a big banner stretched out over the start line, an elaborate "village" with several sponsor booths, and more runners than I had ever seen at Canyons.  This was also the first year that they had the 100-mile distance.  With approximately three-hundred runners signed up, the 100-mile runners had began running at 9:00 AM on Friday morning, so most of them were still out there.  Friday was pretty hot and today was going to be roasting as well.  I wondered how well the runners were carrying themselves in the heat.  As much as I disliked running in hot weather, today I wouldn't have much of a choice.  My only choice was to deal with it, so that's what I planned to do.  At one point, Alice Dowdin Calvillo, the mayor of Auburn, approached Arjun and I.  We chatted for a few minutes and she thanked us for being part of the race.  It was an uplifting start to what was going to be a long day.  We packed it in, and after the national anthem and a few announcements, the race emcee began counting down from ten.  "And, go!".  Five hundred and seventy eight runners charged forward through the streets of downtown Auburn.  Canyons 2023 was officially on.

        

If It's April, It Must Be Canyons

I don't know for sure, but I think the Saw movie franchise is up to eleven or twelve films at this point.  I stopped paying attention after the third one.  Saw III was one of the most disturbing movies I had ever seen and I couldn't imagine how Leigh Whannell and James Wan could top themselves after the events of that movie.  But the franchise kept going, and they were coming out with a new Saw film every year in the mid to late 2000s.  Since the films were always released for theatrical runs around Halloween time, the tagline for each new film was always "If it's Halloween, it must be Saw".  Well, I have a similar tagline that applies to April of every year in my world: If it's April, it must be Canyons.

On April 29th this year I'll be toeing the start line of the Canyons 100K in Auburn for the sixth consecutive year.  There are several reasons why I keep showing up to this race.  The event is very well run.  Chaz Sheya, the race director, does a great job of making sure everyone is taken care of.  I would recommend any of his races because I've done quite a few of them, and I've always had a great time.  The aid stations and volunteers are top notch.  The course is beautiful, fun, and brutally challenging.  A lot of people, including me, run Canyons to qualify or train for Western States, and the race attracts a cool crowd of runners as well as some top talent in the ultramarathon community.  Additionally, this race holds a special place in my world.  These trails have seen me at my best and my worst.  When I ran for the first time in 2017 and DNF'ed at mile forty-eight, I took it to heart.  I trained harder, found more inspiration, and when I finished the race in 2018, it was a major turning point in my life.  Although it was the second ultramarathon I finished, it was when I successfully finished Canyons in 2018 that I really felt like a true ultrarunner.  

Let's talk about life leading up to Canyons this year.  Well, first, there's fatherhood and family life.  There is also my life working in accounting for a technology company in Silicon Valley.  There's also the daily blog posts I've been writing about what it's like to raise an infant in the San Francisco Bay Area in 2023.  Then there's going to the gym, running, snow sports, hiking, and then some.  Being a dad has been so much cooler than I imagined.  I remember last year when I ran Canyons, Sam was five months pregnant and I had a lot on my mind.  I had no idea how the rest of the pregnancy would go, how the birth would go, or what kind of dad I would be.  The lack of hill training and overwhelming psychological effects slowed me down in the race.  During the last three miles I found myself trudging through a snowy, slushy, and muddy landslide in the dead of night.  I finally arrived at the finish line at the China Wall Staging Area in Foresthill with fifty-five minutes to spare before the race cutoff.  Even though I had finished, I missed the Western States qualifying cutoff time by five minutes.  I just couldn't get there in time.  It was a bummer, but I was happy for the finish.  Three weeks later at the Bishop High Sierra 50-Miler, my mind was completely elsewhere.  I tried to enjoy the race and the weekend in Bishop, but I had a really tough time being in the present.  The anxiety that loomed over my head at Canyons followed me during the Bishop High Sierra 50-miler.  I finished, but I wasn't at my best.  I had a lot of time to think about everything during the seven hour drive back to Sunnyvale from Bishop.  When I arrived home my mind was clearer and I was more at ease.  It's funny what a long drive through the mountains alone can do to a guy's attitude.

Aidan is now eight and a half months old.  That eight and a half months has gone by quickly, but a lot has happened.  I've had so much fun being a dad to him.  He's now crawling and yesterday when we were at the park, he crawled around on the grass for the first time.  I'm pretty sure his mind was blown.  Sam and I are also doing well and trying to figure out the logistics of when we're going to get married.  We've been together for just under three years and have a baby, so we should probably get going on this whole marriage thing.  Her business has been doing well, and I've been taking a few pet sitting gigs here and there.  Work has been going pretty well for me too.  I was recently promoted to Accounting Supervisor and I work with some pretty cool people.  Yes, I'm a numbers guy, I work with spreadsheets all day, and I'm more or less a problem solver, but my favorite part of my job is rallying my team, coming together with them, and making things happen.  It's always a great feeling to see the reactions from our Controller and CFO when we execute.  Even though this past Fall and Winter have been very wet here in California, I haven't gotten to get out to the snow as much as I would have liked.  Most of the ski resorts will be open in May and even into June, so hopefully after Canyons I'll be able to get a little time on the slopes.  I'd love to go snowboarding in June, I've never done that before.  

Now let's talk training.  Even though I run consistently throughout the year, the training for Canyons always begins in January.  Last year I wasn't able to train as much as I would have liked, and I relied on psychological strength, ambition, and optimism to get me to the finish line.  It ultimately got me there, but more physical strength would have been helpful.  I like to think that my training for this year's race has been more sufficient.  I ran the FOURmidable 50K in mid-February, a course in Auburn with 6,000 feet of climbing.  I also did my annual traditional through-the-night solo 50K in Tahoe on April Fools Day.  That run went better this year than it did last year.  I left the Bay Area at 9:00 PM on Friday night, arrived in Tahoe City at 1:00 AM, and began running shortly after.  It was a fun night running through Tahoe under the stars along highway 89 on the west shore.  At one point a dead coyote emerged in the beam of my flashlight, startling me.  He was lying on the side of the road next to a snowbank.  The poor guy must have gotten hit by a car.  He stared straight at me, eyes open and everything.  It was spooky.  When I saw him, Rihanna's "Disturbia" was playing in my headphones.  It seemed like the right song for this kind of encounter.  Eventually the sunrise filled the morning with vivid color and I completed the fifty kilometers feeling really good.  Tahoe was beautiful thanks to record snowfall.  In addition to the long runs, I've been doing lots of hiking, and hitting the gym doing weight training.  Hopefully the climbing and strength training will help when I'm hauling my ass up those steep climbs this weekend.

We'll be running a different course this year.  Originally, the course was going to be nearly identical to last year, except this time we would be running past Devil's Thumb and down to Deadwood Canyon, turning around at the Swinging Bridge and heading back up.  That's a pretty intense climb.  But because of the record snowfall, most of the course ended up having to be re-routed this year.  The original course was going to feature 16,000 feet of climbing.  This new one will have 10,500 feet.  Still tough, but not as brutal as it could have been.  This new course is making me feel cautiously optimistic, but I don't want to get ahead of myself.  This upcoming week I'm mostly going to be lying low.  I'll be focusing on strength training and will probably only go for one trail run before race day.  Sam and the little dude will be accompanying me this year.  The race starts and ends in downtown Auburn, so it'll be easy for them to come meet me at the finish line.  I'm definitely looking forward to seeing them after I finish.  There's still always the possibility of a DNF or things going sideways.  I need to be ready for that, but I'm also keeping my eye on the prize.  The prize being a successful finish, having a good time, and getting a Western States lotto ticket for 2024.  Let's hope for the best.  See you after the race!

FOURmidable 50K: Flying Babies On The Trail

As Aidan, our six month old little dude progresses through his infancy, Sam and I have been finding more and more creative ways to play with him and keep him entertained.  My favorite thing to do during playtime is what I call the "flying baby".  This involves me sitting the little dude upright on my lap facing me and putting me hands around his chest just below his arms.  Then I ask him if he wants to be a flying baby.  Every time I say that he smiles.  I lift him up over my head, hold him parallel to the floor, and slowly move him around so it looks like he's flying like an airplane or floating through space like a baby astronaut.  Think of it as him laying on his tummy, but in mid air.  He's developed quite a bit of strength over the last few months so he's able to hold his body in that position if I have my hands wrapped around his chest.  In an excitable tone I say "look, it's a flying baby! Watch out for flying babies, they'll kill you with cuteness".  If Sam is sitting next to me sometimes I'll "float" him over to her and she'll kiss him.  This routine is a sure way to get the little dude to smile and laugh.  He loves every second of it.  These are great moments of joy that I share with Aidan.  But I never expected those moments would get me through low points during a 50K.

My drive from Sunnyvale to Auburn on that Saturday morning was pretty fast and uneventful.  I wanted to get some food in my system before today's FOURmidable 50K, so I pulled over at Flying J's in Lodi and bought a bag of Hostess mini-donuts.  Eating at 6:00 AM was not a normal activity for me and I had some butterflies going in anticipation of the race, but I was still able to wolf down several donuts during my drive.  The sun had just finished rising as I arrived in Auburn.  My buddy Arjun, whom I was friends with through Bay Area Runners, was also going to be running this race.  He had arrived in town the evening before and gotten a hotel room at the Red Lion.  This was the first time I was going to be running an ultra with someone from that circle.  I started running with Bay Area Runners shortly after I moved to Silicon Valley from Los Angeles in early 2019 and I've met some really great people.  I would never have met Sam if I hadn't joined Bay Area Runners.  I first met her in May of 2019, and we became closer as friends as we spent more time together at group runs and social events.  In December of that year I began liking her as more than a friend, but I wasn't ready to be with anyone at that point.  I still needed to improve myself before that could happen.  Finally, in June of 2020, after months of wondering if it was a good idea or not, I asked her out on a date.  The rest is history.  

The delicious aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air as I walked into Depoe Bay Coffee Roasters on High Street.  I picked up two cups of piping hot drip coffee and headed for Overlook Park, the start line of the race.  I had some time to kill when I arrived, so I headed over to pick up my race packet and planned to return to my car to get ready afterwards.  Arjun arrived just after I got my stuff and as I was heading back to my car.  I made my final preparations i.e. pinning my bib to my shorts, applying lube and sunscreen, grabbing my hat, water bottle, and sunglasses, and changing into my running shoes before heading back to the start line.  I handed Arjun his coffee when I returned.  We had just enough time to engage in idle chatter and take a quick picture before the race started promptly at 8:00 AM.  Arjun drank down the last of his coffee and we were off.  Today's event was a single loop course and featured three races; a 50K, a 35K, and a half marathon.  Each of the distances started fifteen minutes apart and we were the first to go.  Two hundred and eight 50K runners made their way across the parking area before heading down into the canyon on a wide fire road.  Arjun and I ran along side each other and discussed our plan.  We would stay together for as long as we felt like and if one of us felt like pulling ahead or needed to drop back, we would part ways and plan to see each other at the finish line.  Less than a week prior, on Super Bowl Sunday morning, Arjun took a nasty fall while running through a mud puddle on the Bay Trail.  He suffered a few scrapes on his elbow and couple of bruised ribs.  Not serious injuries, but very painful ones.  Most people don't realize the impact that ribs have on our bodies until they're injured.  If a rib injury is bad enough, sometimes even breathing can be painful.  His condition improved the last few days before the race, although it still hurt when he got up from a lying down position or coughed.  Nevertheless, he felt well enough to attempt today's race.  He later referred to that decision as "probably an exercise in stubbornness bordering on stupidity."  He expressed his concerns to me as we made our way down into the canyon.  "Dude, honestly, is running a 50K ever really a 'good' idea?" I asked.  He laughed in agreement.  I urged him to simply do his best.  If he had to slow down or even drop, it was totally okay.  DNF's are part of the sport.

Before long, we arrived at the bottom of the gorge and began the first climb of the race up Cardiac Hill.  The single track trail followed several switch backs, and we made our way upwards with a small pack of runners.  As we hiked along, we talked about all kinds of stuff.  Me becoming a dad, ultrarunners we like, and our reasons for getting into the sport.  Normally I'm pretty quiet in the early miles of ultramarathons, but having a buddy there to chat and share stories with was helping the time and miles pass by quickly.  As we approached the first aid station about six miles in, Arjun was having doubts regarding whether or not he could finish.  Taking deep breaths was still a bit painful for him.  I told him to do what he had to do, and again, no shame in dropping if need be.  We parted ways shortly after the aid station and I pulled ahead.  Now on my own, I followed the trail along the American River.  When I stopped to take a picture of the landscape I noticed two women out of the corner of my eye running the opposite way.  "Liam!" one of them called out.  It was my friend Julie who had moved to the Sacramento area from Palo Alto a couple of years prior.  She was also a member of Bay Area Runners when she was living in Silicon Valley.  Her and her friend weren't running the race, they just happened to be out for a morning trail run.  I was surprised and happy to see her, it had been quite a while.  We spent a minute or so chatting and I told her to be on the lookout for Arjun, who was probably about a mile or so back at this point.  

I kept following the course and eventually No Hand Bridge came into view.  I had run across it several times in several races in the Auburn area and the views never disappoint.  I stopped at the aid station on the other end of the bridge, refilled my water bottle, thanked the volunteers, stuffed a corner of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in my mouth and grabbed a few Oreos.  In terms of food, I stuck with peanut butter and jelly and Oreos throughout the entire race.  I stuffed a couple of Oreos into my mouth as I climbed up the trail towards K2.  An oncoming 35K runner approached.  I nodded and attempted to give him kudos but the partially chewed Oreos reduced my words to a mumble.  It came out something like "hey bwow, gwood jwowb".  Fun times.  A short time later, about eleven miles in, I began the climb up the infamous K2 Trail, also known as Training hill.  This steep and technical ascent is widely known in the Auburn area as a real ass kicker.  As the nickname implies, lots of people come out here and use it as their training ground for endurance events.  Just so people know what they're in for, the sign on the trail at the bottom of the climb reads "Training Hill Trail (steep)".  The uphill was savage, but I climbed step by step up the trail through the lush forest.  It's been quite a wet winter in California and the recent rain made the wilderness quite colorful and vibrant.  One thing that was working in our favor today was the weather.  February in Northern California can be unpredictable, but today we had partly cloudy skies.  The temperature had been forty degrees Fahrenheit at the start line, which was prefect for me, and we were looking at a high of around sixty degrees.  I really couldn't complain too much about those conditions, but I could feel the warm sun as I labored up the trail.  

After I survived Training Hill, the trail followed a gradual downhill through a more open area with green fields and fewer trees.  The trail was smooth and the distant green slopes of the Sierra foothills surrounded the grassy hillside.  At times, the white, snow covered mountain tops of Lake Tahoe were visible on the horizon.  Things were going pretty pleasantly as I exited the trail and headed down a remote backcountry road towards the next aid station at Knickerbocker.  After departing the aid station things took a plunge, literally and metaphorically.  The trail descended down a rocky fire road towards the river.  Theoretically a downhill traverse would feel good mid-way through a 50K, but the problem was my feet.  I had opted to wear my Vibram 5-fingers instead of my Hoke One One Speedgoats.  I really like my Hokas but they're just so big.  I prefer minimal footwear.  I had done trail races in the past with Vibrams and decided to give it a try again.  In retrospect, that was probably a bad choice.  I think it slowed me down in this race.  By the time I arrived at the bottom of the gorge I had stepped on a sharp rock at least a dozen times.  Each time, the impact sent a lightning bolt of pain up  through my body.  No matter how hard I tried to avoid stepping on the sharp rocks, it kept happening.  That really sucked.  But what goes down must go back up.  The descent was followed by another climb back up to the road and to the Knickerbocker aid station.  The incline was more gentle on my feet, much to my relief and delight.

After passing through Knickerbocker for a second time I now had about thirteen miles left.  It had been a good day overall.  I was feeling good, having something to eat at all the aid stations, I was staying hydrated, and peeing consistently.  "Don't get reckless" I told myself.  "Just hold it together for twelve more miles, and you're good".  I mostly ran alone for the next hour or so.  The pack had thinned out quite a bit and only I saw a couple of runners for the next several miles.  The terrain gave way to rolling hills along the countryside and I was able to cruise and let my mind wander.  I thought a lot about Sam and Aidan.  I thought about how wild it was that I was now a dad.  It felt so cool to be out here running my first ultra since becoming a father.  I began to have visions of doing the flying baby routine with the little dude.  I visualized him floating around in front of me on the trail as I ran along.  He was smiling and laughing just like he always does when we do the flying baby.  Only in my vision, I wasn't holding him.  He was just floating all around me as I ran.  It made me smile.  "I love you, little dude" I said to myself out loud.  I thought about how great of a mom Sam is to him and how much I love her too.  When you're twenty miles into an ultra and you're all alone on the trail, sometimes your mind goes into some wild places.  Being an ultrarunner dad is so dope!

At around mile twenty-one I crossed a creek through shin deep water.  The cold water sure felt great on my aching feet.  At mile twenty-seven I found myself plodding along the rolling trail with highway 49 through the trees and down the slope to my right.  I was starting to get frustrated because I was supposed to be approaching the final aid station at No Hands Bridge soon, but the trail just kept going.  And going.  It seemed like it was taking way too long.  "Where the hell is No Hands Bridge?" I asked myself out loud.  Finally, the trail began a descent, and the canvas tent of the aid station came into view.  I got what I needed, thanked the volunteers and slowly crossed the bridge once again.  From here, I had less than four miles to go.  The problem was most of that remaining distance was going to be uphill with a really brutal climb at the very end.  But I knew how I was going to get through it.  The visions I had of flying babies on the trail earlier in the race carried me along pleasantly and my running felt effortless at times.  I knew it was going to get tough these last few miles.  My secret weapon to getting through it this time around was flying babies on the trail.  Shortly after crossing the bridge a woman I had met earlier in the race came up behind me.  Her name was Betty, and we leap frogged each other for the second half of the race, exchanging small talk and words of encouragement.  "How's it going Betty?" I asked as she passed by.  "I'm tired" she replied.  "It's time for me to unleash my inner David Goggins".  That made me laugh.  Anyone who follows Goggins knows exactly what she means.  I've gained more of a sense of appreciation for him recently.  He may be overly intense, but he's got one hell of a story and he's very motivating.  I definitely like him more now than I used to.  Betty and I continued leapfrogging each other for the last couple of miles and chatted, which helped keep me going. 

They weren't kidding when they said the last climb up to the finish line at Overlook Park was hard.  It was a beast.  With less than a mile to go, I was so close, but the elements were forcing me to move very slowly.  I visualized my little dude floating around me smiling and laughing throughout most of the final ascent.  And man, did it help.  There are very few things in this world that make me happier than Aidan's smile and laugh.  I could be having a really shitty day but if I see him look at me and smile, it just makes everything better.  I knew that this race was going to be unlike any other ultramarathon I've ever run.  And indeed, it was.  I never thought that I would visualize my infant son floating around me with a big smile on his face as a means of motivating me during a race.  I'm sure it won't be the last time I use that method and I'm sure Aidan (and his potential little sibling, if we can make that happen) will be a big inspiration to me for the rest of my life.  I finally heard the sweet sounds of the finish line close by.  Everyone who runs races knows those sounds.  The sound of the race announcer on the PA system, the sound of music playing, and the sound of cheering.  It means you're almost there and you're going to make it.  It's always a welcoming sound.  I crested the top of the hill and the last fifty feet was a flat stretch.  I crossed the finish line seven hours and twenty-five minutes after departing the start line that morning.  I clapped my hands in celebration and thanked the volunteer who handed me my finishers prize, a FOURMidable race themed canteen.  I walked over to a tent where another volunteer filled my canteen with beer and congratulated me.  

About thirty minutes after I finished Arjun emerged from the top of the final climb.  I cheered and ran the last flat section with him just before the finish line.  We then embraced and congratulated each other on finishing today's race.  We shared stories of the journey as we chowed down on some burgers and fries, courtesy of FOURmidable's awesome finish line accommodations.  I was super stoked that he was able to push through the pain in his ribs, overcome his doubt, and cross the finish line.  He knew what it took to get the job done and I was proud of him.  We saw Betty and congratulated her on her finish as well.  As we walked back to our cars I said to Arjun semi-jokingly "okay dude, Canyons is just two of that.  No problem, right?".  He gave me a look as if he was telling me to shut up with his eyes.  We both laughed.  We would also both be attempting The Canyons 100K together at the end of April.  Today was good preparation for it, but both of us had training to do before that day came.  After we parted ways and I got back to my car, I pushed Canyons aside in my head.  Not that I didn't want to think about it, but all I really cared about at that moment was getting back home to be with Sam and my little dude.  Oh yeah, and a nice hot shower too.

    

FOURmidable Father

The heavenly aroma hung in the air as I sat at the large wooden table across from the barista counter.  It was 10:00 AM on a chilly Thursday morning and Philz Coffee in downtown Sunnyvale was jumping with activity.  I sipped from my hot cup of Philharmonic and sat in front of my laptop making small talk with my colleagues through our virtual meeting.  Before we got into the business side of things we were discussing our upcoming plans for the long weekend.  "Well, I'm running a 50K" I said with a chuckle.  Our Controller, who is well aware of my running exploits, jokingly said "oh, come on Liam.  Just a 50K, that's it?".  I guess when you have people teasing you about running only a 50K, you have a element of nuttiness in your persona.  It is "just" a 50K indeed.  The FOURmidable 50K in Auburn, to be exact.  The race was two days away on Saturday February 18th, 2023, and I was starting to get pumped up.  

Every ultramarathon has it's own unique story and experience and even though the event was still two days out, I was certain that FOURmidable would be a memorable race.  This was going to be the first ultra I would be running as a dad.  The last ultra I ran was the Bishop High Sierra 50-miler in May 2022.  Sam was six months pregnant, and that same weekend that I was in Bishop, she was in New Orleans celebrating her friend's bachelorette party.  I was excited for the future but there was a lot of uncertainty at that time.  I had no idea how Aidan's birth was going to go, how he was going to be as a baby, how good of a dad I was going to be, or how fatherhood was going to go.  I had times during that race when I was enjoying being in the moment, but my mind was elsewhere during most of the journey.  I clearly didn't perform my best, but I made it to the finish line.  

It's pretty safe to say that my reality has changed quite a bit since toeing the finish line in Bishop back in May.  We had some complications during the little dude's birth that resulted in Sam having an unexpected caesarean section.  Her pregnancy had been great up until that point so we were both thrown a major curveball in the hospital.  In the end, Aidan arrived at 8:52 AM on Sunday August 7th, 2022 and was a healthy little guy.  He just celebrated his six month "half birthday" ten days ago.  That six months has gone by quickly, but a lot has happened.  He has grown in size, outgrown his newborn clothes, he's gone from having two emotions (crying and quiet) to having several emotions.  He's grown more baby hair, learned how to play with toys, learned to appreciate the sound of music, and learned how to engage when we read him baby books.  He's been able to roll and inch his way forward.  He's now eating solid foods, he loves to smile and laugh, he loves being out and about and being around people, and he's very easy going most of the time.  He gets cuter ever single day.  Sam is such a great mom to him.  She always makes sure he's getting fed well and that he's comfortable and happy.  Being a mom to a six month old little dude is challenging enough, and meanwhile she continues to run her own pet care business, she works out at the gym four times a week, and has started running again.  

And as for me, I've been trying to make stuff happen too.  I try my best everyday to balance the "four quadrants of my life" as I call them: being the best dad I can be, being the best partner I can be, making sure I'm productive and having an impact at work, and taking care of myself, my interests, and my needs.  I fall a little short in one or more of these "quadrants" from time to time, but I try to do my best.  When it comes to preparing for FOURmidable, I like to think I'm in a good place.  I've been able to keep up with running since becoming a dad, and I've been going to the gym in our apartment building and doing strength training four or five times per week.  I've gained about eight pounds of muscle since November 2020.  A big part of ultrarunning is core fitness, especially when it comes to hauling myself up the hills.  I'm hoping that my work in the gym will pay off in that regard.  I've been doing longer runs on Saturday mornings ranging from eight to eleven miles on relatively flat surfaces like the Stevens Creek and Bay Trails.  

Admittedly I haven't been spending as much time on the mountain trails as I should, but I've done some hiking and trail running at Rancho and Mission Peak here and there.  A new workout that I've adopted lately is running up and down the stairs in our apartment building.  This twenty-minute exercise that I've been doing about once per week is a good alternative to hiking.  I've also been doing more treadmill running during the week. The stair workouts and treadmill running have emerged into my routine partially as a result of the fact that we've had a pretty wet and rainy winter here in the San Francisco Bay Area.  I'm not a big fan of running on treadmills.  It can be boring and monotonous and it feels more physically difficult than running outside.  But besides the rainy weather, I've been doing it to get out of my comfort zone.  A couple of weeks ago I decided on a whim to run eleven miles on a treadmill on a Saturday morning as a challenge to myself.  It was as psychologically taxing as running a full marathon, but I got it done and it felt great afterwards.  

I don't know a whole lot about the course of the FOURmidable 50K, but the race is being held in familiar territory.  I found out about this race from my buddy Arjun, who ran it last year.  He will be joining me on Saturday and running for the second year in a row.  There will be about 6,000 feet of elevation gain and we'll be running mostly on the same trails that I've traversed during other ultras that I've done in the past.  We will begin the journey from Overlook Park in Auburn, California at 8:00 AM.  That's a little later that most ultramarathons start, but it gives me some time to drive out there from Sunnyvale in the early morning hours.  I'm really looking forward to this race.  It's been a while and I'm excited to be getting back out there.  Running has definitely taken on a new meaning since the little dude was born.  I will do my best, but I don't know exactly how it's going to go.  Regardless of how fast or slow I run, I'll be thinking about Aidan and Sam a lot.  In a way, I feel like I'm doing this race for Aidan.  I'm hoping for a memorable experience and that the race will be solid training for The Canyons 100K in April.  See you at the race report blog afterwards!

   

Leaving Beverly Hills

A couple of months ago I wrote a post that was inspired by Steve Jobs when he discussed the two or three most important things he had ever done in his life.  Taking LSD was one of them, as he stated in several interviews.  In my prior post I wrote about saying "yes" to an offer to learn how to ski with Uncle Gale, a life long family friend, on a winter morning in 1997 in Michigan.  It was one of the two or three most important things I'd ever done in my life and opened a lot of doors for me.  Time to discuss another one of those two or three most important things.  And that is moving out of my hometown.

Before I go any further, let me just say this; I love my hometown.  Beverly Hills, Michigan was a really cool place to grow up.  It shaped who I am and I have a lot of good memories from my childhood.  Beverly Hills is a suburb about twenty minutes northwest of Detroit.  Detroit itself was a thriving city in the 1940s when the automobile industry was booming.  The demand for industrial workers was high.  With all these manufacturing jobs being created, people poured into Detroit.  Black families moved there from the South.  People migrated from the Middle East, Mexico, and Europe, all looking for solid, good paying work.  The city was an economic powerhouse that was putting people to work.  Detroit's population peaked at 1.8 million people in 1950.  Sadly, the American auto industry crashed, manufacturing jobs were cut, poverty and crime became the new normal, and many Detroit residents fled.  Between 1950 and 2022, Detroit's population declined by sixty-five percent.  My parents and their families were among the many people who left the city in the 1960s and moved to the suburbs.  Despite having struggled with high crime for several years, Detroit, along with it's surrounding suburbs, has a rich cultural history.  Faygo soda is manufactured in Detroit and is common in most households in the area.  I definitely drank my share of Faygo root beer as a kid.  The Detroit style hot dog is the Coney Island hot dog, which includes mustard, chili sauce, and diced onions.  The Coney Island hot dog was actually first served in Brooklyn, but during the 1940s, a wave of Greeks and Albanians moved to Detroit from New York City and their respective home countries.  Once in Michigan, they opened several restaurants in the area serving traditional Greek food and Coney Island hot dogs.  Detroit soon adopted the Coney Island as it's signature hot dog, and these restaurants are a staple of Detroit culture.  They are known locally as Coney Island restaurants.  I worked at one for three years during my high school days starting when I was fourteen.  Detroit also has it's own style of pizza.  It's a large rectangle, inspired by Sicilian style pizza, and cut into smaller rectangles.  The bottom part of the crust is crispy underneath, the crust is about three quarters of an inch thick, and is fluffy and soft in the middle with all the usual fixings on top.  Although Detroit sports teams haven't given us much to be excited about in the last several years, Detroiters are loyal and devoted to their teams.  I myself grew up a big Red Wings fan.  They are, after all, one of the original six NHL teams, so a lot of history there.  Detroit and it's surrounding suburbs are inspiring places and I wouldn't be who I am if I grew up somewhere else.

Throughout my childhood I was never a bad kid, but I was kind of a little shit sometimes.  As I progressed through my adolescence, I realized more and more that I didn't quite fit in.  As much as I liked my hometown, there came a point in high school where I realized that I had to get out.  I wanted more.  I wanted to experience another place.  And that other place was California.  I had visited the golden state a handful of times during my youth to visit my dad's side of the family.  I liked it quite a bit and felt like I belonged there.  I knew it would be good for me and I knew that's where I needed to go.  During my senior year of high school it became my number one long term goal.  I was going to go to college in Michigan, get my degree, then do whatever it took to get to California and create a life out there.  That goal stuck with me all throughout college.  Not a day went by when I didn't think about it.  To make that goal more achievable, I even told people in college that I was born in California and moved to Michigan as a kid, implying that I had California roots.  Looking back now, it's pretty silly that I did that, but in the scheme of things, it was just a small part of my past that I invented to make my dream seem more realistic.     

On an early April morning in 2009 I was standing outside near the entrance of our two story office building in Southfield Township, Michigan trading banter with my co-workers at the time.  There were only eight of us working in our small satellite law office.  We often ate lunch and took morning and afternoon breaks together.  Since a few members of our team were smokers, part of the morning and afternoon breaks were spent outside.  I was a cigarette smoker for a year and a half during my college days, but I ditched them after graduation.  Even though it had been several months since I quit, I still enjoyed stepping outside for a few minutes during the day.  Winter and the holiday season had passed, the snow had melted, and the days were slowly warming up in anticipation of Spring.  When I returned to my desk with a fresh cup of coffee, I noticed that I had a voicemail on my office phone.  My missed calls menu flashed the name of one of the partners who was based out of the firm's headquarters in Chicago.  I was hoping that this was the call I had been waiting for as I played the voicemail.  It was.  He was giving me the news that a position had opened up in the Chicago office that he thought would be a great fit for me and said it was mine if I was interested.  

The position I was currently holding was a full time job that had decent pay, but it was far from ideal.  It was a data entry position that paid hourly and didn't offer any benefits.  I graduated from Western Michigan University and earned a Bachelor's degree in finance nine months earlier.  When I was ready to enter the job market in July of 2008, the world was knee deep in what came to be known as the Great Recession.  Michigan was especially hit hard.  My mother had passed away in late 2005 and my dad attempted to sell our family house in the fall of 2008.  The deal fell through because his perspective buyer was unexpectedly laid off from her job and therefore didn't qualify for the mortgage.  These were tough times.  But I did the only thing I knew how to do during tough times; I didn't waste time feeling sorry for myself and instead I found a way to work through it.  Life is 5% what happens to you and 95% how you react to it.  Unfortunately I didn't have the luxury of holding out for a positing that was a good fit for my background and degree.  I needed to get to work, and quickly.  So when I landed this data entry gig at a small law office right in my hometown, I took it.  I could always look for a job that was a better fit, but for now, I needed to get to work.  I began this position shortly after graduating and returning to my hometown.  I liked my routine of going to work Monday through Friday and being in an office environment.  I had also developed a close relationship with my co-workers.  I knew I wanted more though.  When that voicemail discussing the opportunity to move to Chicago and take a gig at the headquarters arrived, the idea had been in the works for some time.  I traveled to Chicago back in February to meet with upper management and the partners about new opportunities.  It was a good, productive day of meetings and they said they'd stay in touch as opportunities came up.  The time had finally come.  Two days before my twenty-third birthday, I loaded up my car with as many belongings as I could cram in there, left my hometown, and headed to Chicago.  I knew, the moment I pulled out of my dad's driveway, that my life was never going to be the same from that day forward.  

The opportunity proved to be a good one.  The pay was higher, it offered benefits, and offered new challenges.  Even though it was a similar role to the one I had in Michigan, it gave me an opportunity to have more of an impact.  Meanwhile, the firm's Accounting department was developing a new role, which I took a few months after arriving in Chicago and held for the next two and a half years.  This was a big change to undertake.  It was very positive, but also overwhelming.  I left behind my hometown, a suburban village near Detroit of roughly 10,000 people.  Even though the Detroit area had and still has a measure of cultural diversity, the village I grew up in was ninety percent white. I was always kind of a rebel, but I was used to a certain way of life.  Most people in my hometown had spent their whole lives there and were third and fourth generation Michiganders.  With 2.7 million residents, Chicago it is the third largest city by population in the United States, and the largest in the Midwest.  I was "not in Kansas anymore" so to speak.  My college town of Kalamazoo, where I spent four years, was a different kind of place, but not like Chicago.  There's a scene in the Will Ferrell holiday movie "Elf" where his character, Buddy the Elf, arrives in New York City from the North Pole.  He goes around saying hi to random people who are hailing cabs, and bursts into a hole-in-the-wall café to congratulate the staff on serving "the world's best cup of coffee".  His actions were either ignored or met with puzzled responses from unsuspecting New Yorkers.  That scene is a caricature of how I was when I first arrived in Chicago.   I was used to life in my suburban snow globe of a world.  When I walked to the subway train stop from my studio apartment in the morning on my way to work, I would nod or say hi to people who walked past me on the sidewalk.  I was usually ignored.  One day I was waiting for the train when a guy walked by me and noticed my Tigers hat.  "Man, you're going to get punched in the back of the head for wearing that hat, bro".  I couldn't tell if his comment was made in jest or if he was being confrontational.  I laughed and said "I guess I need a Cubbies hat, huh?"  He offered neither a smile nor a frown. "you need a Sox hat" he replied.  He seemed to be one of those older Southside Chicago "tough" guys who took sports rivalries way to seriously.  I laughed again and told him "okay, have a good one".  His response was a shoulder length wave, as he continued walking.  That was my first real glimpse into the Chicago/Detroit sports rivalry.  I was accustomed to in state sports rivalries back in Michigan, but they were always friendly rivalries in my experience.  Chicago vs. Detroit was different.  Even so, I wore my Red Wings and Tigers gear all around the city proudly until the day I moved to California.  After about a month, I was dating a girl I had met through mutual friends.  We were having a conversation one day during lunch at a local crepe restaurant about how her thirty-three year old friend didn't have any kids and had never been married.  Of course I wouldn't think twice about that now, but at the time, I remember thinking that was strange.  Most thirty-three year old people in my hometown were married with at least one kid.  My date, who had been living in the city for quite some time and was accustomed to the way of life, gave me some crap for having that mindset.  And rightfully so.  It proved how much I didn't know about the world outside of my suburban hometown and how much I had to learn.

After overcoming the culture shock, I learned quite a bit about the way of life in a big city, adjusted to my surroundings, and blended in more with the crowd.  I loved every moment of it, despite the mishaps.  I was constantly learning.  I was introduced to people from all kinds of different backgrounds.  People who grew up in the city, people from the suburbs, people who had come to Chicago from Kenya, Italy, India, Bosnia, Romania, Ukraine, and countless other places.  I was introduced to different foods and cuisines.  I listened to people's stories and learned some valuable life lessons.  I joined a running group for the first time.  I grew very fond of my city life routine of walking to the subway in the morning, taking the fifteen minute train ride to my office across the street from the Willis Tower, and coming home to my own studio apartment, and later on, the flat that I shared with two roommates in the Wicker Park neighborhood.  I was also exposed to some not so pleasant things, like the ever present entertainment of riding public transportation in a big city.  Nothing bad ever happened to me, but I witnessed some potentially dangerous situations.  I was also asked for spare change on an almost daily basis by homeless folks.  It was alarming and sad to see how many people in Chicago were without homes, and I helped when I could.  

Even though I was having a good time in Chicago, my mind was somewhere else.  I had still not given up on my California dream.  Chicago was never meant to be place where I would plant roots.  It was simply a stop along the way.  Eventually the day came when it was time to live out my dream and say goodbye to my life in Chicago and hello to my new life in Los Angeles.  It wasn't easy.  I had developed a good circle of friends in Chicago and I liked my job working in the Accounting department of the law firm I started at in Michigan.  But I knew moving to California was the right move.  I had known for many years.  It was finally time to go where I belonged.  LA is also a big city, but it wasn't like Chicago.  It had a completely different vibe.  Again, I knew that the moment I stepped off the plane at LAX, that life as I knew it would never be the same.  Unlike the move from Michigan to Chicago, this time I was smarter, I had already been away from home for a while, and I was more accustomed to big city life.  The change wasn't as drastic, but it was much more exciting. I was introduced to even more diversity, more ways of life, more foods and cuisines, etc.  One of the most significant changes I experienced was the natural setting. California had mountains.  Being from Michigan, my experience of hiking was going on a walk on a flat trail through the woods.  Hiking in California meant climbing up mountain trails with fantastic views from the summit.  Soon I was introduced to mountain trails and I was snowboarding down real mountains at thousands of feet of altitude.  These experiences paved the way for me to expand my running from the road to the trails and eventually from marathon running to ultramarathon running.  And as any ultrarunner knows, transitioning from road marathon running to trail ultrarunning is like stepping into a whole other dimension.  It didn't stop there.  With my most recent move four years ago from Los Angeles to the Bay Area, my mind really opened up to tech culture and politics.  

I'm now in my twelfth year of living in California.  Going from Beverly Hills, Michigan to Chicago, to LA, to the Bay Area has been quite the journey.  I've been forever changed by the experience.  All the things I've gone through, the people I've met, and the highs and lows that life has thrown at me along the way have allowed me to evolve in ways that never would have been possible if I hadn't left my hometown.  That's why leaving my hometown was one of the two or three most important things I've ever done.  I will say though it's been quite a while since I've visited.  The last time I made an appearance in Beverly Hills was February 2020 right before the pandemic.  I think it's time to plan another visit.

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.