Sunday, February 25, 2007

Change of Plans


Now I know what the inside of my left foot looks like. Broken.

THE DOCTOR WILL SEE YOU NOW
Dr. Hysterical: "So, GVB, you were here last year on February 25th with a broken foot. Welcome back. Wanna see some neat pictures?

GVB: "Uh oh."

Dr. H: "Yup. Uh oh is right."

GVB: "Let's do this."

Dr. H: "Here is your foot. Here (points to several bones in the foot) is what bones should look like. Here (points to third metatarsal) is what a really fucked up bone looks like.

GVB: "And that's my foot? You're sure?"

Dr. H: "Pretty damn sure...it's called a "marching fracture", common in soldiers in boot camp who stomp around all day. And in marathoners and other runners."

GVB: "I swear I'm not in the Army."

Dr. H: "Well, regardless, this foot be busted all up. Good news and bad news, you decide which is which...No cast, no crutches, no ugly boot or anything. The bone is already held fast by the strong bones around it."

GVB: "I'll call that the good news. The bad?"

Dr. H: "Stay off of it. 4 weeks."

GVB: "Um..."

Dr. H: "Yeah yeah, the training. I know. Option B is to keep training. Then it is about 3 months to heal. Your choice. I don't care. Either way you 're gonna want some pain killers and anti-inflammatory drugs (writes prescription). Ironically, IF you can take the pain of training on it, it will actually heal stronger over the longer period of time.

GVB: "Hey, that is irony. Good job."

Dr. H: "You damn English teachers..."

Soo...what to do now? Vancouver Marathon is early May. If I take 4 weeks off can I still make the race? What to do in the meantime?

Operators are standing by for any input and advice you all may have...

MAHALO
I know what I'm doing for Earth Day this year. Click here. How about the rest of you?

IMPROBABLE PARENTING PHRASE OF THE WEEK
"Son, please don't refer to yourself in the third person!"

Saturday, February 24, 2007

Pain, Sticks, Beer (and some fish)


17 Miles of Pain
If anyone out there needs proof that I am still a stupid dude with more testicle than brain, witness today’s potentially season-ending 17 mile run with the Cap’n…

Great plan: leave Lynnwood for a nice easy 17-18 mile one-way trek to Everett, mostly on the Interurban Trail. Burn some calories, work the legs, listen to some iPod. Great plan.

So The Colleague drops me off at Cap’n’s office. She notices (but doesn’t comment on) the fact that I am favoring my left foot a little bit as I get out of the car. I re-lace the New Balance and figure whatever tightness I am feeling will work out as we slog through the first few wet and rainy miles. At the first stoplight, I comment on the foot. It’s hurting, feels like a cramp, but maybe it will work out.

Like an asshole, I tell myself (as Jack Johnson sings “Broken” in my ears) that I should stop, call The Colleague, and bag this run before I injure myself). But like a bigger asshole, I keep going. At mile 4 I start catching myself over-compensating for the sore foot.

First the knee starts to hurt.

Being wary of hurting my knee, I start striding differently.

By mile 5 I can feel a blister building on my left heel.

Miles 5-11 I basically power through. The pain comes and goes, but we are doing good time and the rest of my body feels great. I throw down some Gu and keep going.

Mile 12 starts to really hurt. My “new” stride (now compensating for a growing blister, a sore foot, and a tweaked knee) is starting to take its toll on my lower back and my groin.

Good times.

For a few minutes I am distracted by the fact that both my iPod and Cap’n Ron’s iPod serve up “Goodbye My Lover” by James Blunt at the same time.

Odds? Math Dude? Help me out…2 iPods, 600 songs each, shuffle play…same song, same time? Seems like Lotto odds to me.

I hobbled my lame ass all the way to Everett and the comfort of the 305. 17 miles. 3220 calories. 9:40 overall pace.

Now? 90% convinced I have a broken foot. Since the run it has changed through 6 shades of purple and swollen nicely. I’m trying a strict RX of internal alcohol therapy and Big Head Todd, but so far, it isn’t helping. Maybe the side trip with The Colleague and our collective children to the Seattle Aquarium wasn’t such a good idea…

Bottom line. X-Rays on Tuesday. If the foot is broken it probably means the end of the Vancouver Marathon. It probably means turning my attention to something in June or July. Or perhaps just training on the Fuji for the Seattle-to-Portland ride.

F Word.

Stay tuned on the injury front.

Sticks
Towse hooked me up with some “replacement” clubs for the set stolen from my loving mother’s garage last fall. Let’s call the price “less than retail”. The sticks? Kick ass. Even my lame ass swing can’t really send the ball off line.

The check is in the mail. Ish. Thanks brother.

The Annual VB Brother Beer Fest
It’s that time of year again. The VB brothers will gather. This year in Chicago. The ostensible reason? Some conference. The real reason? Beer. Don’t kid yourself. Updates to come.

Summer Preview
A deposit is down on a nice Tartan 3400 for a two week summer cruise with Dad VB and brother VB. Looking forward to bashing someone else’s boat across the straits.

Tuesday, February 20, 2007

The Week(s) in Rock

Yeah, yeah, I’ve been gone for a while. Time to catch up.

Gravity, Stay the Hell Away from Me

Cap’n Ron and I made the trek south to the high desert for our annual geology and physics conference. Like Al Bangorhard, it seems like I have been sick all damn year. I can’t seem to shake this damn chest cold. The best I’ve felt was when I was on my rigorous RX of:

Joshua Tree Air + Joshua Tree Rock + Climbing Chalk Dust + Several cases of Corona + good Scotch + The Colleague.

Yep. Good times. Lots of nice climbs, but mostly just chillin’ in the desert. Tried one run and quickly remembered that we were at altitude AND massively hung over and dehydrated. Details here. http://trail.motionbased.com/trail/activity/2094720 .Check out the satellite image of the run. It is prettier from the ground, I swear.


Drive Data:
Seattle to Joshua Tree: 22 hours straight through.
Joshua Tree to Reno: 12 hours.
Reno to Seattle: 12 hours.

Now that we’re back in the Emerald City, the cold is back. I think I have the plague. Still trying to train, but I keep spilling my beer.

Don’t I Know You from Somewhere? Oh, That’s Right, My Youth

Weird moment of this weekend: Standing at a housewarming party with The Colleague talking to “Lead Singer of The Biggest Alternative Band to Come From Seattle Whose Lead Singer Didn’t Swallow a Shotgun” about literature. His latest favorite read is Into the Wild by Jon Krakauer, by the way. Oh, and apparently there is a movie version coming out this summer. I’m just pissed that we forgot to ask him for a hookup for tickets to Kokua Festival. Damn.

Touch It
A Sunday night concert at the Showbox by The Presidents of the United States of America? Ok. Meow, meow, meow.