I have another theory about the chairs: Alien life forms have visited out planet and they are hiding in plain site disguised as our friends and neighbors. These aliens identify themselves to each other by putting white Adirondack chairs in the front yards of the homes they have invaded.
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Did I miss the memo?
There has been a somewhat disturbing trend happening here in the homes near the place we call home: Chairs. Yep, chairs. In front yards. And more often than note, they are white Adirondack chairs. This is a recent phenomenon as these chairs were not there last year. Along one street near our home there are 8 houses with white Adirondack chairs sitting in their front yards. Did I miss the memo that you are supposed to put white Adirondack chairs in your front yard?
I have another theory about the chairs: Alien life forms have visited out planet and they are hiding in plain site disguised as our friends and neighbors. These aliens identify themselves to each other by putting white Adirondack chairs in the front yards of the homes they have invaded.
I have another theory about the chairs: Alien life forms have visited out planet and they are hiding in plain site disguised as our friends and neighbors. These aliens identify themselves to each other by putting white Adirondack chairs in the front yards of the homes they have invaded.
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Memorial Day
As we approach Memorial Day weekend, I ask all of you to remember that this weekend is not about veterans or police or fireman. Memorial Day is a day to remember military service members who died in the line of duty. I do not want to discount the police and fireman who have made the ultimate sacrifice, but they are remembered on a different day of the year.
When I was on active duty, I often had people thank me for my service on Memorial Day, and I would politely remind them that was not what this holiday was about. There is Armed Forces Day for those on active duty, and Veteran's Day for those who had served. Memorial Day is a day to remember military personnel who lost their lives in defense of our country.
In
my career, 12 of my shipmates died to training accidents, and 1 of my shipmates was killed on September 11th, 2001. Commander Dan Shanower was working at 
his desk when Flight 77 slammed into the Pentagon. He was killed instantly, the Navy lost an outstanding officer and I lost a good friend that day. Dan was an Intelligence Officer, and he was also a very prolific writer. I met Dan when we served together from 1997-1999 on the staff of Commander, U.S. Third Fleet. We kept in touch after we both left that staff, and I heard from him just a few weeks before his death. Below is an article he wrote for a military journal called Proceedings. I want to share Dan's essay with you as we approach Memorial Day, and ask you to remember that freedom isn't free.
Freedom Isn't Free
(then) LCDR Dan Shanower
Proceedings, May 1997
The military loses scores of personnel every year in training or operational accidents. Each one risked and lost his or her life for something they believed in, leaving behind friends, family and shipmates to bear the burden and celebrate their devotion to our country. In a era of downsizing and tight budgets, it's easy to let the issues of the day and our different cultures and traditions distance us from our peers in the other military services.
Memorial Day is one day of the year when those differences seem insignificant, when all service members reflect on the one defining experience many of us have felt that sets us apart from the rest of society, the loss of close friends in the defense of our nation. It seems that anyone who has spent a few years in uniform has a story of a shipmate who died in combat or while preparing for it. Those memories are something that many of our civilian counterparts cannot fathom. They realize that those of us in the military are expected to make the ultimate sacrifice when called, and they are willing to take the day off in observance of the many who have, but few realize, and fewer have experienced, the incredible price the military pays to ensure freedom in both peacetime and war.
The issue is important enough that once a year we take time to remember and pass along a story of when we first learned that freedom isn't free. It is the tenth anniversary of one such experience for me.
By tradition, an aviation squadron's most junior officers are packed in the least
desirable bunk rooms on board an aircraft carrier. BK 10 on the USS Midway (CV-41),
directly under the starboard catapult, was home to seven frocked lieutenants and three lieutenants junior grade of VAQ-136, as the carrier entered the Indian Ocean in late 1987. We had all been to sea before, on shorter cruises to the Philippines, Thailand or Korea, but this was the first time that we felt there was real potential for combat. The Iranians had threatened to restrict transits of the Strait of Hormuz, and we were en route to provide air cover for reflagged Kuwaiti oil tankers and their U.S. Navy escorts.
In preparing for our role in what was dubbed Operation Earnest Will, Carrier Air Wing 5 air crew had filled out authenticator cards and reviewed procedures in the event an aircraft emergency necessitated search-and-rescue operations some distance from the carrier. I remember a lively discussion among the junior officer air crew in BK 10 that started with, "If I mort, I want you guys to . . ." The light-hearted banter resulted in an agreement that if somebody didn't make it, the rest would throw a wild party in his honor at the Oak Harbor Tavern in Barrio Barretto, Philippines.
Late on the evening of 22 November 1987, the last cycle recovered on board the Midway but without our EA-6B Prowler. I remember walking into the ready room that night. Shock written on every face, the remaining air crewmen busied themselves computing the aircraft's possible maximum time aloft, in the hope that the Prowler had just lost use of its radios and soon would be "in the groove." It had been an emissions-control launch and recovery, so no radar operator could have seen a blip disappear from his screen. No emergency call had been heard, and no other aircraft reported seeing an explosion. We assumed the worst and broke out the gouge for dealing with an aircraft accident.
Assignments were passed out and, as I headed back to BK 10 to seal the wall lockers of my three bunkmates, I noticed a large cake sitting in front of the commanding officer's ready room chair. It was to have been his 1,000th trap. The Navy lost four fine officers that evening. Despite an extensive search, no wreckage was ever located.
These four guys were really good people. The pilot was superstitious and had a favorite pair of socks that he always wore when he flew. He told me once that he had not read a book (except NATOPS manuals) since his junior year in college, because he wanted to fly more than anything in the world and did not want to risk losing his perfect vision.
One of the flight officers was the subject of good-natured ribbing because even though he was on cruise, 5,000 miles from home, his mother felt the need to buy and mail off complete wardrobes for future wear in port. In each package, she was thoughtful enough to include socks to match the trousers and a new package of underwear.
One of the other flight officers had a love of Tai Kwon Do, and would always try to startle us with a fancy move as we entered the BK. I often felt a bit like Peter Sellers in the Pink Panther movies, fending off his most recently improvised "foot chop to the face."
And then there was the Skipper, who had a rare gift for being at ease with the responsibilities of command while being able to enjoy a little fun along the way. I remember him chewing me out in the ready room one morning on cruise, for being out of uniform. I was utterly confused until he pointed out that I was wearing lieutenant junior grade bars where my bull ensign bars had been the night before. I looked down and to my horror saw that someone had switched my rank insignia during the night. I had not noticed it as I dressed in the darkened BK that morning.
My face flushed and I struggled with an explanation. The Skipper broke into a smile, handed me the already prepared letter of promotion and said, "You might as well keep 'em on, Lieutenant." I had forgotten that the day marked my second year of service, so his well-planned trick provided us all with a good laugh.
These four men have been dead ten years. I miss their friendship, but I believe that because they died in the prime of their lives in the service of our country their sacrifices take on a special meaning. Maybe those three departed junior officers would be upset that the rest of us never did get around to having that party in the Barrio. I think, however, that to a man, what really would have impressed them was to know that, to their shipmates, they had come to personify the virtues that we salute on this national holiday.
A few years ago I visited Pensacola to see the place where my Navy life began. I toured the much expanded National Museum of Naval Aviation and found a large plaque on one wall listing all the pilots and naval flight officers who had reached the 1,000-trap milestone. It says a lot about this Navy of ours that someone had ensured that my late Skipper's name was included on that list.
The military loses scores of personnel every year in training or operational accidents. Each one risked and lost his or her life for something they believed in, leaving behind friends, family and shipmates to bear the burden and celebrate their devotion to our country. For those of us who were on the Midway in November 1987, the loss of Commander Justin Greene, Lieutenant Dave Gibson, Lieutenant Doug Hora, and Lieutenant J. C. Carter gave meaning to words such as sacrifice and duty.
They knew the risks they were taking and gave their lives for something bigger than themselves. I'll never forget them, and I'll never forget the day I learned that freedom isn't free.
When I was on active duty, I often had people thank me for my service on Memorial Day, and I would politely remind them that was not what this holiday was about. There is Armed Forces Day for those on active duty, and Veteran's Day for those who had served. Memorial Day is a day to remember military personnel who lost their lives in defense of our country.
In
my career, 12 of my shipmates died to training accidents, and 1 of my shipmates was killed on September 11th, 2001. Commander Dan Shanower was working at 
his desk when Flight 77 slammed into the Pentagon. He was killed instantly, the Navy lost an outstanding officer and I lost a good friend that day. Dan was an Intelligence Officer, and he was also a very prolific writer. I met Dan when we served together from 1997-1999 on the staff of Commander, U.S. Third Fleet. We kept in touch after we both left that staff, and I heard from him just a few weeks before his death. Below is an article he wrote for a military journal called Proceedings. I want to share Dan's essay with you as we approach Memorial Day, and ask you to remember that freedom isn't free.Freedom Isn't Free
(then) LCDR Dan Shanower
Proceedings, May 1997
The military loses scores of personnel every year in training or operational accidents. Each one risked and lost his or her life for something they believed in, leaving behind friends, family and shipmates to bear the burden and celebrate their devotion to our country. In a era of downsizing and tight budgets, it's easy to let the issues of the day and our different cultures and traditions distance us from our peers in the other military services.
Memorial Day is one day of the year when those differences seem insignificant, when all service members reflect on the one defining experience many of us have felt that sets us apart from the rest of society, the loss of close friends in the defense of our nation. It seems that anyone who has spent a few years in uniform has a story of a shipmate who died in combat or while preparing for it. Those memories are something that many of our civilian counterparts cannot fathom. They realize that those of us in the military are expected to make the ultimate sacrifice when called, and they are willing to take the day off in observance of the many who have, but few realize, and fewer have experienced, the incredible price the military pays to ensure freedom in both peacetime and war.
The issue is important enough that once a year we take time to remember and pass along a story of when we first learned that freedom isn't free. It is the tenth anniversary of one such experience for me.
By tradition, an aviation squadron's most junior officers are packed in the least
desirable bunk rooms on board an aircraft carrier. BK 10 on the USS Midway (CV-41),
directly under the starboard catapult, was home to seven frocked lieutenants and three lieutenants junior grade of VAQ-136, as the carrier entered the Indian Ocean in late 1987. We had all been to sea before, on shorter cruises to the Philippines, Thailand or Korea, but this was the first time that we felt there was real potential for combat. The Iranians had threatened to restrict transits of the Strait of Hormuz, and we were en route to provide air cover for reflagged Kuwaiti oil tankers and their U.S. Navy escorts.
In preparing for our role in what was dubbed Operation Earnest Will, Carrier Air Wing 5 air crew had filled out authenticator cards and reviewed procedures in the event an aircraft emergency necessitated search-and-rescue operations some distance from the carrier. I remember a lively discussion among the junior officer air crew in BK 10 that started with, "If I mort, I want you guys to . . ." The light-hearted banter resulted in an agreement that if somebody didn't make it, the rest would throw a wild party in his honor at the Oak Harbor Tavern in Barrio Barretto, Philippines.
Late on the evening of 22 November 1987, the last cycle recovered on board the Midway but without our EA-6B Prowler. I remember walking into the ready room that night. Shock written on every face, the remaining air crewmen busied themselves computing the aircraft's possible maximum time aloft, in the hope that the Prowler had just lost use of its radios and soon would be "in the groove." It had been an emissions-control launch and recovery, so no radar operator could have seen a blip disappear from his screen. No emergency call had been heard, and no other aircraft reported seeing an explosion. We assumed the worst and broke out the gouge for dealing with an aircraft accident.
Assignments were passed out and, as I headed back to BK 10 to seal the wall lockers of my three bunkmates, I noticed a large cake sitting in front of the commanding officer's ready room chair. It was to have been his 1,000th trap. The Navy lost four fine officers that evening. Despite an extensive search, no wreckage was ever located.
These four guys were really good people. The pilot was superstitious and had a favorite pair of socks that he always wore when he flew. He told me once that he had not read a book (except NATOPS manuals) since his junior year in college, because he wanted to fly more than anything in the world and did not want to risk losing his perfect vision.
One of the flight officers was the subject of good-natured ribbing because even though he was on cruise, 5,000 miles from home, his mother felt the need to buy and mail off complete wardrobes for future wear in port. In each package, she was thoughtful enough to include socks to match the trousers and a new package of underwear.
One of the other flight officers had a love of Tai Kwon Do, and would always try to startle us with a fancy move as we entered the BK. I often felt a bit like Peter Sellers in the Pink Panther movies, fending off his most recently improvised "foot chop to the face."
And then there was the Skipper, who had a rare gift for being at ease with the responsibilities of command while being able to enjoy a little fun along the way. I remember him chewing me out in the ready room one morning on cruise, for being out of uniform. I was utterly confused until he pointed out that I was wearing lieutenant junior grade bars where my bull ensign bars had been the night before. I looked down and to my horror saw that someone had switched my rank insignia during the night. I had not noticed it as I dressed in the darkened BK that morning.
My face flushed and I struggled with an explanation. The Skipper broke into a smile, handed me the already prepared letter of promotion and said, "You might as well keep 'em on, Lieutenant." I had forgotten that the day marked my second year of service, so his well-planned trick provided us all with a good laugh.
These four men have been dead ten years. I miss their friendship, but I believe that because they died in the prime of their lives in the service of our country their sacrifices take on a special meaning. Maybe those three departed junior officers would be upset that the rest of us never did get around to having that party in the Barrio. I think, however, that to a man, what really would have impressed them was to know that, to their shipmates, they had come to personify the virtues that we salute on this national holiday.
A few years ago I visited Pensacola to see the place where my Navy life began. I toured the much expanded National Museum of Naval Aviation and found a large plaque on one wall listing all the pilots and naval flight officers who had reached the 1,000-trap milestone. It says a lot about this Navy of ours that someone had ensured that my late Skipper's name was included on that list.
The military loses scores of personnel every year in training or operational accidents. Each one risked and lost his or her life for something they believed in, leaving behind friends, family and shipmates to bear the burden and celebrate their devotion to our country. For those of us who were on the Midway in November 1987, the loss of Commander Justin Greene, Lieutenant Dave Gibson, Lieutenant Doug Hora, and Lieutenant J. C. Carter gave meaning to words such as sacrifice and duty.
They knew the risks they were taking and gave their lives for something bigger than themselves. I'll never forget them, and I'll never forget the day I learned that freedom isn't free.
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Relay for Life Post-Ex
I am happy to report that the 2009 
East Grand Rapids American Cancer Society Relay for Life is in the books and was an unqualified success. There were 36 teams (goal was 30) and over $58,000 was raised (goal was $45,000) and over 400 people participated. The work for the Relay began in December with the first planning committee meeting. We met once a month until this month, when we met twice to put the finishing touches on the plans to make the Relay a success.
I took a day of vacation on Friday to help put the Relay together
and I will have to tell you, I never worked so hard on a day of vacation in my life! I met up with the other committee members at 9AM and we went right to work to set up the tents for the Relay. We rented tents and a stage for the major activities, while individual teams were responsible for their own tents. The first team tent went up a little before noon, and little by little, the other 35 teams pitched their tents on the infield of the track. The Relay began at 3PM and before long there were literally dozens of people doing laps to raise money for the American Cancer Society.
As the day turned into night,
the Relay got a bit more festive. Bands played, dance ensembles performed, and basically, people had a good time. As dusk approached, their was a somber and reflective event known as the Luminaria Ceremony. In this ceremony, luminaria bags are placed along the track and each candle is lit. The bags represent a life cut short by cancer. All the participants gathered and a few words were spoken about the significance of the Luminaria Ceremony. Then a single, silent lap was walked by everyone present. The bags were adored with words like, "We miss you Mom" or "In memory of Grandpa Jones." There were well over 100 luminaria bags lining the track. It was a thoughtful and moving experience.
Night fell, and by about
10:30PM I was ready to call it a night. I was a de facto member of "Connie's Crew," but my main responsibility was the logistics planning and execution for the event. Most teams had members who spent the night there, walking and sleeping in shifts throughout the night. Since my idea of camping is staying at a Holiday Inn, I left for my Stearns & Foster bed about 10:45PM and enjoyed a restful night. I returned the next morning at 7AM and went right back to work, hauling away the trash and assisting in any way that I could in support of the Relay.
The weather turned a little nasty as the morning developed. There was a little rain and lots of wind. So much wind that a few of the team tents and one of the activities tents were blown over. An executive decision was made to end the Relay at noon. Following the closing ceremony, we started to tear down and pack away our gear and by 1:30PM, the East Grand Rapids High School Track looked better than when we arrived the day before. At the end of the day I was tired, sore and dirty, but I was very happy to have supported this event.
East Grand Rapids American Cancer Society Relay for Life is in the books and was an unqualified success. There were 36 teams (goal was 30) and over $58,000 was raised (goal was $45,000) and over 400 people participated. The work for the Relay began in December with the first planning committee meeting. We met once a month until this month, when we met twice to put the finishing touches on the plans to make the Relay a success.I took a day of vacation on Friday to help put the Relay together
and I will have to tell you, I never worked so hard on a day of vacation in my life! I met up with the other committee members at 9AM and we went right to work to set up the tents for the Relay. We rented tents and a stage for the major activities, while individual teams were responsible for their own tents. The first team tent went up a little before noon, and little by little, the other 35 teams pitched their tents on the infield of the track. The Relay began at 3PM and before long there were literally dozens of people doing laps to raise money for the American Cancer Society.As the day turned into night,
the Relay got a bit more festive. Bands played, dance ensembles performed, and basically, people had a good time. As dusk approached, their was a somber and reflective event known as the Luminaria Ceremony. In this ceremony, luminaria bags are placed along the track and each candle is lit. The bags represent a life cut short by cancer. All the participants gathered and a few words were spoken about the significance of the Luminaria Ceremony. Then a single, silent lap was walked by everyone present. The bags were adored with words like, "We miss you Mom" or "In memory of Grandpa Jones." There were well over 100 luminaria bags lining the track. It was a thoughtful and moving experience.Night fell, and by about
10:30PM I was ready to call it a night. I was a de facto member of "Connie's Crew," but my main responsibility was the logistics planning and execution for the event. Most teams had members who spent the night there, walking and sleeping in shifts throughout the night. Since my idea of camping is staying at a Holiday Inn, I left for my Stearns & Foster bed about 10:45PM and enjoyed a restful night. I returned the next morning at 7AM and went right back to work, hauling away the trash and assisting in any way that I could in support of the Relay.The weather turned a little nasty as the morning developed. There was a little rain and lots of wind. So much wind that a few of the team tents and one of the activities tents were blown over. An executive decision was made to end the Relay at noon. Following the closing ceremony, we started to tear down and pack away our gear and by 1:30PM, the East Grand Rapids High School Track looked better than when we arrived the day before. At the end of the day I was tired, sore and dirty, but I was very happy to have supported this event.
Saturday, May 9, 2009
32nd Annual 5/3 Riverbank Run
This year's 5/3 Riverbank Run has come and gone and 
I am happy to say that it was an unqualified success. I picked up by race credentials Friday night after work, then I headed to Jenison for a pre-race pasta dinner hosted by my friend and race ringleader Paul Ryan. Members of the team met a little before 7PM to "carb up" and catch up on what has been going on in the lives of us all. I left for home about 8:30PM, arrived a little before 9PM and I was in bed by 10PM.
Because the 5K race started at 7:30AM this year (usually this is the last race to start), that necessitated a 6:45AM team join up, which meant a 5:15AM wake up. I awoke once during the night to the sound of rain. Not a little "pitter patter" but more like a "Honey, let's pack up the ark" kind of rain. I was hopeful that by the time Sol came out that the weather would moderate a little. When my alarm went off, it was still raining...
I got up, enjoyed a little high protein and carbohydrate breakfast, and got suited up for the race. Dee decided this year to drive me downtown and I am glad that she did. There were over 17,000 runners this year so parking would have been crazy. Thankfully, the rain had stopped right as we left the house to head downtown. She dropped me of a few blocks away from our marshaling point (the 5/3 Bank Building) which was just a few steps away from the starting line of the race.
Paul Ryan (who is an VP with 5/3 Bank) was already there,
and I was the first team member to arrive. You see, because of Paul's position with the bank, we have access to the inside of the bank (recall that it is a few steps away from the finish line) so we can stretch, drink some water, make a pit stop, etc., before the race. The rain stayed at bay, though it was a little cool. Actually, the weather was perfect for a run in my book. Overcast and cool, with a slight hint of precipitation in the air. I was hoping that the rain would stay in the clouds for just a little while longer to allow me to be dry during my run. Little by little, other team members showed up and by 7:15AM we had a quorum. Final potty stops were made, as well as the intake of a little more water by those who needed it, and a team photo was taken. The rain stayed in the clouds as we headed to the starting line.
Though we ran as a team, we did not run together as a team. The important point was that all of us were under the Navy flag. This allowed some of the "rabbits" in the team to take off and sprint ahead, while the more aged people (like me and Paul!) took our positions in rear of the race pack and awaited the start.
The 5K race had literally thousands of runners, so it was going to take a while for everyone to cross the starting line. Paul and I patiently waited as the masses of people ahead of us slowly started to run as they approached the starting line. About 3 1/2 minutes after the official "start" of the 5K race, Paul and I crossed the starting line.
Paul and I started a slow jog as we were surrounded by other runners, some of them faster than us, and some of them slower. Our goal today was to finish, we were not that concerned with our time. To be frank, I have not had a lot of time to train with the lousy weather Michigan has seen the past few weeks, plus the bronchitis I am still fighting. Paul and were "in the van," keeping the flanks and rear approaches to the team safe as we made our way through the streets of downtown Grand Rapids, with a route that twice crossed the Grand River. As has been customary the past few races, Paul and I run at a conversational pace and we catch up on the things that have been going on in our personal and professional lives. We were running at about a 8:30/mile pace, which is pretty good for us. In what seemed like no time, we had run back across the Grand River and were on the home stretch for the finish line. I finished with a respectable time of 26:17. Not my personal best, but faster than last year.
Throughout the race, the rain stayed away. However, just as I crossed the finish line, a few drops began to fall, which then turned into a full fledged down pour. Paul and I headed back to the bank where our non-running gear was stored and we got a little damp as we made our way back. I collected my things, and waited for the rest of the team to reconstitute. After a few minutes, most of the team gathered at our marshaling point, where we all congratulated each other on a well run race. About 20 minutes after the race, I said my goodbyes and headed to my pick up point.
I called Deirdre as I was walking to our agreed upon pickup point. All the while, the rain just kept coming down. I managed to make it to our rendezvous point, and stood under a tree to avoid the rain. After just a few minutes, Dee drove up and took me home.
It was a fun race and I am happy to still be a part of the Navy Team. Now if I can only start training for the next Riverbank Run on 8 May, 2010...
I am happy to say that it was an unqualified success. I picked up by race credentials Friday night after work, then I headed to Jenison for a pre-race pasta dinner hosted by my friend and race ringleader Paul Ryan. Members of the team met a little before 7PM to "carb up" and catch up on what has been going on in the lives of us all. I left for home about 8:30PM, arrived a little before 9PM and I was in bed by 10PM.Because the 5K race started at 7:30AM this year (usually this is the last race to start), that necessitated a 6:45AM team join up, which meant a 5:15AM wake up. I awoke once during the night to the sound of rain. Not a little "pitter patter" but more like a "Honey, let's pack up the ark" kind of rain. I was hopeful that by the time Sol came out that the weather would moderate a little. When my alarm went off, it was still raining...
I got up, enjoyed a little high protein and carbohydrate breakfast, and got suited up for the race. Dee decided this year to drive me downtown and I am glad that she did. There were over 17,000 runners this year so parking would have been crazy. Thankfully, the rain had stopped right as we left the house to head downtown. She dropped me of a few blocks away from our marshaling point (the 5/3 Bank Building) which was just a few steps away from the starting line of the race.
Paul Ryan (who is an VP with 5/3 Bank) was already there,
and I was the first team member to arrive. You see, because of Paul's position with the bank, we have access to the inside of the bank (recall that it is a few steps away from the finish line) so we can stretch, drink some water, make a pit stop, etc., before the race. The rain stayed at bay, though it was a little cool. Actually, the weather was perfect for a run in my book. Overcast and cool, with a slight hint of precipitation in the air. I was hoping that the rain would stay in the clouds for just a little while longer to allow me to be dry during my run. Little by little, other team members showed up and by 7:15AM we had a quorum. Final potty stops were made, as well as the intake of a little more water by those who needed it, and a team photo was taken. The rain stayed in the clouds as we headed to the starting line.Though we ran as a team, we did not run together as a team. The important point was that all of us were under the Navy flag. This allowed some of the "rabbits" in the team to take off and sprint ahead, while the more aged people (like me and Paul!) took our positions in rear of the race pack and awaited the start.
The 5K race had literally thousands of runners, so it was going to take a while for everyone to cross the starting line. Paul and I patiently waited as the masses of people ahead of us slowly started to run as they approached the starting line. About 3 1/2 minutes after the official "start" of the 5K race, Paul and I crossed the starting line.
Paul and I started a slow jog as we were surrounded by other runners, some of them faster than us, and some of them slower. Our goal today was to finish, we were not that concerned with our time. To be frank, I have not had a lot of time to train with the lousy weather Michigan has seen the past few weeks, plus the bronchitis I am still fighting. Paul and were "in the van," keeping the flanks and rear approaches to the team safe as we made our way through the streets of downtown Grand Rapids, with a route that twice crossed the Grand River. As has been customary the past few races, Paul and I run at a conversational pace and we catch up on the things that have been going on in our personal and professional lives. We were running at about a 8:30/mile pace, which is pretty good for us. In what seemed like no time, we had run back across the Grand River and were on the home stretch for the finish line. I finished with a respectable time of 26:17. Not my personal best, but faster than last year.
Throughout the race, the rain stayed away. However, just as I crossed the finish line, a few drops began to fall, which then turned into a full fledged down pour. Paul and I headed back to the bank where our non-running gear was stored and we got a little damp as we made our way back. I collected my things, and waited for the rest of the team to reconstitute. After a few minutes, most of the team gathered at our marshaling point, where we all congratulated each other on a well run race. About 20 minutes after the race, I said my goodbyes and headed to my pick up point.
I called Deirdre as I was walking to our agreed upon pickup point. All the while, the rain just kept coming down. I managed to make it to our rendezvous point, and stood under a tree to avoid the rain. After just a few minutes, Dee drove up and took me home.
It was a fun race and I am happy to still be a part of the Navy Team. Now if I can only start training for the next Riverbank Run on 8 May, 2010...
Thursday, May 7, 2009
It has been a long week...
I know, I know. I have been delinquent in updating my blog. Truth be told, work has gotten in the way of my social life. I need to refocus my energies and dedicate time to my cyber-life.
That being said, I will not update those readers who take the time to read my blog. This past Monday night I attended the last EGR Relay for Life Committee
meeting. A mere week from tonight I will be on the East Grand Rapids High School track, doing the Relay. The relay goes on for 24 hours, starting at 3PM on Friday night. All of the teams have tents they pitch on the infield of the track and they spend the night there, essentially camping out at the high school. Of course, I have no intention whatsoever of camping at the high school. My idea of camping is staying at a Holiday Inn. I will work the day at the Relay on Friday, then return home for the evening sometime close to midnight. I will head back to the track early Saturday morning. I will spend the rest of the day doing "logistics" tasks. It will be a long day, but it will be easy.
GE keeps me busy. Despite what you might read or hear in the news, GE made over $2 billion last quarter. Sure, it is less than what we made last year, but we were still profitable and will continue to be so for the foreseeable future. I suppose that I am a hopeless optimist, but I know that tomorrow will be better than today. I am buying as much GE stock right now as I can, as I think that it is a bargain at the current selling price of $14/share.
On Saturday, I will run in the 5/3 Riverbank Run. I will run with the Navy team, lead by my former shipmate and longtime friend CAPT Paul J. Ryan, USN (Ret.). I am running the 5K race and the plan is for me and CAPT Ryan to run in the van, guarding the flanks and rear areas. To the non-Navy folks out there, a couple of old retired Navy officers will be leading from the back at this year's run!
I need to settle in and spend some quality time with the Maven. Until my next update, all of you remember to buckle your seat belts, be kind to your parents and be careful out there.
That being said, I will not update those readers who take the time to read my blog. This past Monday night I attended the last EGR Relay for Life Committee
meeting. A mere week from tonight I will be on the East Grand Rapids High School track, doing the Relay. The relay goes on for 24 hours, starting at 3PM on Friday night. All of the teams have tents they pitch on the infield of the track and they spend the night there, essentially camping out at the high school. Of course, I have no intention whatsoever of camping at the high school. My idea of camping is staying at a Holiday Inn. I will work the day at the Relay on Friday, then return home for the evening sometime close to midnight. I will head back to the track early Saturday morning. I will spend the rest of the day doing "logistics" tasks. It will be a long day, but it will be easy.GE keeps me busy. Despite what you might read or hear in the news, GE made over $2 billion last quarter. Sure, it is less than what we made last year, but we were still profitable and will continue to be so for the foreseeable future. I suppose that I am a hopeless optimist, but I know that tomorrow will be better than today. I am buying as much GE stock right now as I can, as I think that it is a bargain at the current selling price of $14/share.
On Saturday, I will run in the 5/3 Riverbank Run. I will run with the Navy team, lead by my former shipmate and longtime friend CAPT Paul J. Ryan, USN (Ret.). I am running the 5K race and the plan is for me and CAPT Ryan to run in the van, guarding the flanks and rear areas. To the non-Navy folks out there, a couple of old retired Navy officers will be leading from the back at this year's run!
I need to settle in and spend some quality time with the Maven. Until my next update, all of you remember to buckle your seat belts, be kind to your parents and be careful out there.
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