Please. No.

I know more pressing world issues deserve more attention. But I deal with issues of the nature and paths of the cosmos on a day to day basis. What produces the most visceral reaction in my mind? NCAA Basketball.

What jerks my chain? Not that my beloved Jayhawks were knocked out early, or that the family favorite Washington Huskies underachieved, then overachieved, then underachieved again--being knocked out of the Sweet 16. Expanding the field from 65 to 96 teams will dilute a good product. I used to take off work with some of my good friends to watch the first Thursday/Friday of the tournament, and now it will be garbage--infiltrated with mediocre teams. My visceral reaction is to say I won't watch the damn tournament--at least in the early rounds--but I'm sure I'll come crawling back because I won't be able to stand spring training baseball.

Rather than worry about a lame boycott, maybe I'll take up an activity of my own and build my own presence in the field of athletic mediocrity. Curling, training for my next half-marathon, bicycling, etc. To the people at the NCAA, please stop this movement to mediocrity by expanding the basketball field. I feel hope and despair on this topic, as the NCAA isn't interested in doing something that makes sense. However, they are a bit unpredictable as well--maybe the foolishness stops and the insiders will look like fools.

When I thought I couldn't hear anything interesting about Tiger Woods

It took me two days of Tiger Woods coverage since November to gloss over any comment about him. Analysts and reporters struggle to say anything new and interesting--and many of these same folks are actually intelligent.

Once again, Chuck Klosterman breaks the mold. In his December 21st podcast interview with ESPN's Bill Simmons, Simmons asks for a different angle, and Klosterman delivers. I am weary of sports, PR, and news folks saying that Woods needs to come forward. This proclamation is boring and unoriginal. The interview is great dealing with Woods, but the entire two-part podcast is worth your while (as if I could say anything different about Klosterman).

Klosterman says that two things could change the public perception of Tiger Woods at this point. One is that if stories came out saying that Woods did generous things for his mistresses, like pay for their chemotherapy. Two, that Tiger Woods go completely in the opposite direction of his current intensely private public persona and become like Charles Barkley, where he comments on everything and become this gregarious, joke-cracking guy who comments on race, politics and sports. I think this seems unlikely, but intriguing. Barkley has his detractors, but generally he is loved by many, even if people don't agree with him. His recent problems with DUI arrests haven't taken away people's affection for him, because he is at least authentic. I think it also helps that Sir Charles is funny. I find Klosterman's take on Woods interesting, because I find that the typical call for Woods to go public (usually the preferred strategy is to appear on Oprah) is a retread of any public figure path when they commit any type of indiscretion. This typical path is boring, and it's not really a story.

During my studies in creative writing in college, one of my professors said that what makes a story is the revelation of change in a character. Without change, there is no story, there's only a description or a report. I suppose that Tiger Woods doesn't have to change for the sake of a story, but I do find stories much more interesting than mere reports. Klosterman turned a series of reports and analysis into the prospect for a compelling human story. That angle from Klosterman, should it or any similar variant, come true, would make the Tiger Woods story interesting.

Three year old travels through airport resembling old Hertz commercials

SAN FRANCISCO-

An eventful 12th day of Christmas it was. Twelve drummers drumming, Bing Crosby or the McKenzie Brothers weren't present to mark the occasion--but the travel shall be remembered.

Travel duties over the holiday season were divided between my dear wife and I by a complex formula involving preaching schedules, vacation usage, school calendars, mileage expenditures, and airfare purchases. This equation kept daughter #2 and I in Minnesota until today, with an early departure from Minneapolis-St. Paul Airport. My dear wife and Daughter #1 returned to the Seattle Metro January 2 for the school schedule, primarily. Traveling today for me saved about $400.

The problem with this kind of travel arrangement is early morning flights and layovers. This time we landed in San Francisco, an airport I hadn't seen in over 10 years. Turns out I still wouldn't see much of it. Arriving early at MSP in anticipation of security, we were well prepared for contingencies. Or so we thought.

A three year old in an airport always presents extra challenges. Timing of bathroom stops, snacks, drinks, activities and exercise while in a high security and frenzied pace setting keeps my head on a swivel, establishing some sense of order and direction. I knew this planning and administration registered with my daughter, because she offered advice to other adults, "you have to wait your turn."

We cannot control some variables in the trip, like sitting on the plane for an extra 45 minutes or so waiting for a gate while the plane was a bit late in the first place, dealing with important substances like wing de-icer. This delay put our connection in peril. Fellow passengers graciously let us out of the plane ahead of them expediently, and we waited at the gate for the stroller that help small legs manage a long walk to the next gate.

But the stroller did not come. After five minutes, my plane was boarding, and I didn't have time to chase down United Airlines officials to locate the stroller. I made an executive decision (that's why they pay me the big bucks)--we had to go. This was a risky venture with an unpredictable three year old. I told her to run. She ran. I had our semi-bulky and awkward carry-on bag, two insanely heavy coats for the West Coast (but important for Minnesota in January), and her little carry-on. I wanted her to focus on her keeping balance and her eyes on the path before us, which included maneuvering through three moving sidewalks.

As I watched her move, encouraging her to run, pay attention, watch out for others, stay with me, etc., all that came to mind was an unfortunate comparison--O.J. Simpson cruising through a busy airport as a spokesperson for Hertz car rentals. She dodged, she spun, she bobbed and swayed, but she never fell--and she stuck with me as well as a three year old can in a sprint through an airport terminal. We ran, jogged, and walked quickly for about a half-mile.

With about 100 yards to go, she started crying. She looked like a marathon runner who had hit the proverbial "wall." There's only so much a little girl can take. She was up at 4am, yet to have a successful trip to the potty. No lunch, and had run the most in one stretch she had ever run. So I held up her Nemo stuffed toy as a makeshift motivational speaker and said, "Do you want to carry Nemo??? Run to Nemo!!!" She ran to Nemo, grabbed her toy, and continued sprinting to the gate. I stopped when I got there, and she kept going toward the plane, only to be stopped by laughing TSA officials. It almost had the same feel to it as Forrest Gump running a football for the University of Alabama. I wasn't going to stop her, but it would be a trio of laughing TSA officials doing a "Stop Forrest, Stop!" to my daughter.

Wiping the sweat from my brow, we slowed down and made it to our seats. All the while, she proclaimed orders to random seat holders, "you have to wait your turn."

We're still waiting for the stroller. We had to make a claim to get it returned from United Airlines. The employees at baggage service noted how cute my little girl is. What I didn't tell them is that she pulled off a small athletic miracle.

Football, music, and my evolving relationship with coffee (part 8)

I recently accounted for Daughter #2's assertive calls for particular songs. Stephen Colbert is probably the favorite now. The other night we had some good friends over to our home for a little surf and turf. We thanked them for being on our team of hospice respite caregivers for our late dog, Hunter. While playing some music to enhance the festivities, Daughter #2 had to chime in for her own requests. It was easier to heed those requests. Once we made it through most of her own personal play list, she made another request, a bit far afield from the usual songs. I didn't understand what she was saying, until I discovered she wasn't asking for a song at all. She asked for the "College Football Podcast." I wonder who taught her to listen to that?

Also from the "where did she get that?" file, we were shopping at Fred Meyer yesterday, and Daughter #2 had the privilege of riding in a shopping cart/toy bus. She extends her neck out of the bus window and shouts, "I NEED and iced mocha!" I had a hard time containing my laughter thinking of her observing me trying to keep my energy up while taking on my new work life. I've had way more coffee than I'd ever imagined I would drink, and at least enough for Daughter #2 to engage in her own brand of mockery. The folks in Fred Meyer weren't exactly sure what she was saying, but someone told me she's getting early training as a Pacific Northwesterner with coffee acumen.

Waiting for Klosterman

I have a short list of authors whose books (in various genres) I would buy soon after release, in hardcover, and possibly at regular price (but with Amazon, this is foolish).

1. Chuck Klosterman
2. Douglas Coupland
3. Bill Bryson
4. James Wellman
5. Nancy Ammerman

Klosterman makes great appearances on Bill Simmons' B.S. Report Podcast at ESPN.com. Pastors generally don't get into weddings, but I would have loved to officiate at Klosterman's wedding. He tells about the event in his October B.S. Report podcast interview. My favorite part was the music at the reception done by an ELO tribute band. That would have been AMAZING. If money was no expense, I imagine that my wife might have enjoyed an ABBA tribute band at our wedding reception, maybe someone like Bjorn Again. I'm considering taking her to one of their shows in the Puget Sound region.

I ordered Klosterman's new release Eating The Dinosaur and should cruise through it in a few days, probably wanting more, and wishing Klosterman would blog, tweet, something. He has great material, but my voracious web appetite leaves my expectations too high, thus he is able to get me to buy a hardcover copy of his book. Nice move on Chuck's part, he can get people to pay for his content, while Bill Simmons writes about stuff I can't care about anymore, the NBA. I hope he enjoys his book tour--at least he stuck up for the Seattle Sonics.

Adding insult to injury

While traversing the Kitsap Peninsula for work this weekend, I wanted to catch a little bit of the Washington-UCLA game. Having them on television is still a novelty to me after 20 years in the Midwest. When the Huskies were good during that stretch--I might be able to get a nationally televised game, but for many years I was stuck with mediocre Big Ten football, and once in awhile I could occasionally watch the Jayhawks, but would usually get stuck with Nebraska or Iowa State. Yawn.

I finally found the Applebee's in Silverdale and caught most of the fourth quarter. I found myself hopeful, even after a big missed field goal. UCLA was not playing the role of a juggernaut, and Washington had the best player on the field in Jake Locker. Having seen in person "The Drive" against USC, I thought good things were possible and the Huskies would mature and pick up a needed road win.

Interesting crowd at Applebee's at 3pm on a Saturday afternoon--not the Dawg-watching hotspot I was hoping for, more like the elderly early-dinner crowd. My cheers for the Huskies were somewhat muted, but I could at least watch the game. I wanted a beverage, but not a pop--I was already strung out on caffeine for the day. I still needed to work and drive, so I opted for an O'Doul's. Even the taste of beer and football sounded good. I was about halfway through that near-beer when Locker threw the interception and the game was essentially over. Throwing the bottle through the television would not be an appropriate response.

I reconsidered the beer throwing position when I got the bill. $4.60??!?!?!? For a 12-ounce O'Doul's???? I am not a bar patron often enough to know what the going rate for a beer is, but that price was brutal. Go ahead and kick a Husky fan when he's down, Applebee's.

My relationship with the National Football League

After 11 years of ordained ministry, with much of my weekend energy devoted to be ready for Sunday worship services, and fatigue taking most of my energy from Sunday afternoons, I have realized that the NFL and I are drifting apart.

To the NFL: it's nothing personal. It's not you. It's me. Listening to constant breakdown of a Seahawks game that I either don't have the energy to watch, or I completely miss, only emphasizes that we don't have much of a relationship. Our relationship really started to fade when the officials became the game during the Seahawks-Steelers Super Bowl. I'm sure you didn't plan things to happen that way. But I look at that and see that event as the beginning of the end.

Sure, you, the NFL, have more popularity than ever before. You are the best run professional sports entity in the world. Good marketing, good executive leadership, good product on the field. I don't have time anymore to follow you. My relationships have been better cultivated with the Edmonton Oilers, Kansas Jayhawks basketball and football, the Seattle Mariners, anything with the University of Washington (especially football). I will smile when I see Huskies and Jayhawks play in your league and I will pull for their success. I will occasionally peek and listen to bits about the league. I know I'm missing out on one of the biggest leisure activities in the world. I no longer have the time. It doesn't mean I won't watch a portion of a game or even a whole game if time allows, the calendar aligns, and the Seahawks are interesting. But I cannot carve out any time for us to have a relationship anymore. We will be acquaintances with memories from our past.

Maybe after my children move out of the house and I am retired from ministry, maybe you and I can get together a little more often and even be friends again. I might even jump on a bandwagon briefly if the Seahawks surge back into relevancy (I have no shame in that--we at least have a history together). I realized that we weren't really friends anymore when I turn the radio station or turn on my iPod whenever the talking heads start talking Seahawk intricacies.

I wish you well, NFL and Seattle Seahawks. I am thankful for what we had, and hopeful for what you can be, but I cannot give you my passion or energy any longer. God speed.

Not sure I will make a purchase at The Sports Authority again...

My running and fitness habit was in a shambles after a packed vacation week and general chaos about the house in preparation and recovery from the trip. I needed a plan to make positive changes.

Logistics were not working in my favor for reinvesting myself in running. It didn't help that my gear was no longer functional or appropriate. I need gear for cool weather, but not frigid. I really needed new shoes--the cushioning was shot and holes had developed in the forefoot region. Unfortunately, I never found myself near a place to buy my trusted Asics 2000/2100 series, the shoe I have purchased as many as 3 times per year for about 14 years. Running an errand in a different part of the metro, I thought I might find a store that carried my shoes. I found The Sports Authority near Southcenter Mall in Tukwila. I found everything I needed at a fair price (not great, but fair). While checking out, the clerk offered me a buyer protection plan for my new Asics 2140 running shoes for the low, low price of $10. She told me if anything goes wrong with the shoes over the period of one year, then I could get a refund for the shoe. A supervisor came to the register to affirm the great offer The Sports Authority was making me. Now, I know that one year for a running shoe is a long and productive life, and with regular use, one year is a bit too long. For me, I can only afford about a six-month life span for my running shoes, though about 4 would be ideal. If I had a shoe that went kaput after 6 months of good use, I wouldn't return the shoe--because I had received what I paid for--an above-average quality trainer (in a category just below top of the line). I couldn't in good conscience return the shoe after getting what I paid for.

What bothered me about this "protection plan" was why they wouldn't give me a refund if the shoe was defective without an extra 10 dollar payment. These protection plans are scams in the first place to separate you from your money. That was irksome enough. What is more troubling is that basic knowledge and trust in the products a store carries and relationships with customers has mutated into a faux assurance gesture. With all of the running enthusiasts in Western Washington, I think I'm going to find a specialty running store and buy my gear there. I would rather build a trusting relationship with a quality merchant that costs a little more than deal with someone who is trying to dupe me out of extra money with a bait and switch.

Though I'm sure the clerk was well-intentioned and was only given a flow chart to sell this awful air of assurance, I had to let her know, "I've been buying these shoes for 14 years and have never had a problem. No thank you, I am not buying the protection plan." If the shoe falls apart too early, I'm taking it to the manufacturer, not The Sports Authority. I'm sure the size of the company makes it that they don't care about my business, but I will not make a purchase at The Sports Authority if I can at all help it.

I'm practicing to be a curmudgeon. How did I do?

The fun and joy of college football

This is one of the reasons I enjoy college football.

Of course one could complain about the resources wasted on bottled water, or that football is a game that causes brain injuries (something I still attempt to reconcile in my somewhat healthy brain), but sometimes it's really fun to watch Nebraska lose, and to see a jubilant team see the fruits of their labors and that team work really matters. I'm with Pat Forde from ESPN--this is a great celebration for college football.

Sportswriters in Husky Stadium scramble to rewrite stories

I almost turned off the television and got to work on important things like paying bills, packing for our family trip and cleaning up the house. Steve Sarkisian's Washington Huskies are an advertiser's dream because you can't turn off the television during a game, lest you miss some drama. Drama is the lifeblood of college football. I had to rewrite my own evening story as the Huskies through their continuous effort rewrote the story of the game with little time to spare. The sportswriters are scrambling, the fans are celebrating, and once again, I'm looking for someone to hug. I called my Dad, and he had given up the game to slumber. We enjoyed the outcome for a few minutes while he scrambled for highlights.

The earlier game against USC doesn't look so much like a fluke now. I can watch that Immaculate Reception Junior interception tonight repeatedly.

I think my Husky elation has turn into deflation, then maybe to wisdom

Almost nothing could diminish the joy of watching the UW Huskies beat USC in person. I think it would end up hurting if they didn't win another game the rest of season and that win ends up merely in upset lore among my football brethren, like Mississippi State beating Florida a few years ago and getting Ron Zook fired. I don't want that game to be only a fun victory in an otherwise lost season.

The game today against Notre Dame was a dagger, because the victory over USC is looking more like luck all the time (though I really don't believe that). The Huskies have the talent at QB and receivers, and a mere few on defense, but it's not enough to play with the big boys. To secure momentum, they almost have to win next week at home against Arizona. The games don't get any easier. I want them to give Arizona a beat down and get some momentum back.

Though my life doesn't hang on the Huskies success, it's fun to follow the UW and gives me a little bit of reflection about from where I come. It represents my Granddad and his GI bill, a dream, and being the first member of his family to graduate from college, my father and him scraping by to build some vocational hope through his education, young men learning about responsibility, work ethic and grit. Husky athletics represents some pride in a region and a particular way of doing things. Husky athletics represents the higher education experience. I know from my own personal experience as a collegiate athlete about the dark side of athletics, but I will always come back. Even if I feel deflated for a few days.

Worn out language (September 30, 2009 edition) "No question"

This worn out language catch phrase has a limited scope, but it's a doozy. Sports talking heads get so passionate sometimes about a topic that they lose their ability to work with the English language. Granted, the talking heads are a step above grunting, which is a layman sporting fan's response of choice.

I am amazed how a quickly a sporting catch phrase explodes in usage, then turns into droning. This happened a few years ago with the term "thrown under the bus," a phrase referencing that a sin of disloyalty had been committed. The phrase quickly became the hyperbole of choice in sports talk, which is also prone to happen in any testosterone-driven verbal exchange. Watching the movie "Patton" with my Dad as a child was my first encounter with this kind of conversation. The great thing about the screenwriters for Patton was that George C. Scott was given a variety of testosterone-driven hyperbole that was enjoyable. Sports talking heads just drive phrases into the ground until intolerable.

Such is the case with the phrase "no question." This is a testosteronic method of declaring a statement of fact or opinion that should be considered on a higher level of truth--such a high level of truth that it can't be debated. Sometimes that level of affirmation about a theory is warranted, but the talking heads can't be selective with this high level of truth. Their analysis hit the airwaves, and immediately vaults itself to a higher level of truth.

"Brett Favre looks good in a Vikings' jersey. I think purple is his color."
"Oh, NO QUESTION!"
"Hey, pass the cheese curds."

I hope the over use of the term gets called to account by sports broadcasting leadership soon. I'm sure they don't care that I'm turning off my radio or skipping the podcast.

For all you Mariner fans out there...this is fun

I know Dave Niehaus is not at the same level as in earlier days, but this call is a reminder of why Dave is so awesome. I want Kevin Calabro in the booth eventually, but this is vintage Dave, and I don't want him to go. He's a Pacific Northwest classic and a baseball legend.

The Washington Huskies and reality

I still haven't come down from Washington taking down USC last week. Though television technology has taken sports to a new level, a live event still offers a unique shared experience.

The rebuilding project will still take some time for the UDub--and Stanford looked like a pretty good team. I tire of the bromides about being a physical football team, but Stanford brought an extraordinary level of toughness that the Huskies couldn't match last evening. The Pac-10 is going to be a blood bath this season, and 6-6 or 7-5 or 5-7 looks about right for the Dawgs. Maybe they'll do better (still hoping). The play of the Huskies yesterday reminded me of the volatile psyche and performance of my days as a late teen/early adult years. It's even tough to learn as an older adult about preparing for solid, consistent performances in the midst of adrenaline rush. I applied that wisdom last week as I almost stopped cheering in the 3rd quarter so I would have a voice left and be able to do my job with integrity on Sunday morning. Some student athletes are wise beyond their years and can accomplish this--which is why I appreciate my lessons as a student-athlete that much more.

Seattle Mariners, Washington Huskies and Elation (part 1)

Wow.

I'm with Seattle Times columnist Jerry Brewer and UDub Football Head Coach Steve Sarkisian. Wow.

After attending the Mariners-Yankees game Friday night and the Huskies-USC game Saturday afternoon, I think my legs are still shaking. Our group of 4 on Friday was looking more for a good night together to see the Yankee juggernaut and entourage--always baseball history in the making. We were looking for a good hanging out activity.

This year the Mariners have their own history in the making with arguably the best pitcher in baseball (Felix Hernandez) and two future Hall of Famers (the still productive Ichiro and the larger than life Ken Griffey, Jr.). The Mariners are still a compelling storyline despite their exit from playoff contention about 6 weeks ago. No one really saw (except for my brother) Ichiro winning the game off of the rarely beaten Darth Vader of relief pitchers Mariano Rivera in the bottom of the 9th with two outs. I still have chills when I think of watching it live and seeing them all celebrate.

What was also fun was that our group of four sat behind a cohort of Yankee fans. I am not a Yankee hater, though I like them less and less as the years pass. I can't hate them because one of my baseball heroes was a Yankee--Don Mattingly. I modeled my own game and preparation after his. I even celebrated his birthday as a high school athlete (April 20, BTW). The Yankee fans were a bit obnoxious (must have been that they sucked down copious amounts of beer and passed around a flask). But they were popping off to the Mariner fans around them--a game 10 year old boy sitting in front of them took the best approach and just cheered louder for the Mariners. I basically ignored them for most of the game (actually, didn't respond to them). I took note of some of their ramblings, but this joke typifies their banter:

Q: What's the difference between a Mariner hot dog and a Yankee hot dog?
A: You can eat a Yankee hot dog in October!

In my first of two responses during the contest, I pointed out to the Yankee fan that one could eat a Mariner hot dog in October this season, because with the World Baseball Classic being held this spring, the final Mariner home stand of the season took place in October. One could buy a Mariner hot dog then. And technically, one can buy a Mariner hot dog at any Costco in Western Washington, as one can buy the Mariner Dog brand there and serve them at home. I told him that if you really want to create an accurate joke, he could say that a Yankee hot dog can be eaten in November, since the recent advent of the opening round of the playoffs now is a best of 7 series, the World Series can fall on the first week of November. But that would also be inaccurate, since the dawn of the expanded playoff series, the Yankees have either been inept in the playoffs or the regular season. Therefore, he can't really tell a joke, and he was just popping off.

My second response was delayed after he said the game was over after the Mariano Rivera entrance. I can't say I held out too much hope for a response. But I did openly call for Mike Sweeney to pinch hit in the 9th, since he's been swinging such a hot bat in the past few months and would be one of the least likely to be intimidated by Rivera. My friend who flew in from Kansas City, part of the hapless KC Royals fan base, was at least happy to see someone with Royals connections do well. With Sweeney's double in the gap, and Ichiro coming to the plate, all things were possible to tie the game. I thought he would double in the gap to tie the game. My brother declared Ichiro was ending it and going yard.

My brother was right--and we went berserk. Pandemonium. Pure elation. My dad and I each shared that our legs were shaking. Such a calm evening turned into a gigantic celebration. No one wanted to go home. We soaked in the moment and gave thanks we didn't have to run around like Jim Valvano looking for someone to hug. We had our troupe right there. We were the re-incarnation of the High Five'n White Guys.

Washington Huskies vs. USC Trojans, 9/19/09 & hope

Listening to an abundance of local sport pundits cannot be good for mental health, but sometimes taking in sports hope has an addictive quality. I think sports hope trumps political hope or even spiritual hope in the euphoric rush factor (at least in this life)--though I'm not sure why. I know the other hopes have more meaning, but sports hope is more fun.

A tangible belief is brewing in Western Washington that the UW Husky football team can beat the University of Southern California Trojans. Steve Sarkisian and his staff have worked, planned and produced a team where the effort, execution, intelligence and passion inspire hope. As a fan produced from a family tree of a UW alumni--that is what a Husky supporter expects and takes pride. I am attending my first live game at UW in over 20 years with family and friends--I HOPE I will see more of what I have seen in the first two weeks. I don't know if all of this sports hope will be accompanied by a win for the Huskies, but hope hasn't been completely eclipsed by iron-clad expectation for a football dynasty.

The fun for all college football fans should be magnified in the UW-USC game tomorrow.

Memories from first half-marathon

Race day is a top ten adrenaline rush experience. The anticipation and nerves, athletic ability of competitors and challenge, and the variation in people watching for me is fascinating. The running crowd is not like the usual crowds I see. I am not part of a running club, and church isn't exactly a fitness haven, though my dear wife and I have noticed that Northwest pastors are a much more fit bunch than Midwest pastors.

Memories from the Super Jock and Jill Half-Marathon (run and walk) and 4-mile run:

* I ran across a female runner nursing her baby before she ran the half-marathon.

* The atmosphere produced varying degrees of rain for about 3/5 of the race. I found it refreshing most of the time, though the accompanying humidity kept me plenty soaked.

* This was a large half-marathon--I think they said it was the 33rd annual race. It takes quite an effort to pull off something like that. I think I saw at least 20 police officers directing traffic on the course that traveled through Woodinville and Bothell. When I had the energy, I said thank you to the police officers and volunteers sharing a cool cup of water. One police officer said I was doing a good job. I gave him a thumbs up and said thanks. He said "keep it up. You're doing what I can't do." He smiled his encouragement was one of the many things that kept me going.

* I hit a wall about mile 10. I was by no means going fast during the first 10 miles. But the last three miles about all I could manage was jogging 200 yards and walking 100. I think what zapped me was that I was a little dehydrated--I hit all the water stations, but I could have used a few more sips. I lost 7 pounds during the race, and after my recovery I'm still down 4 pounds. I didn't do any hill training for the race and I could have used some. The course hit the hilly UW-Bothell campus--I didn't attack the hills, and I only ran about 2/5 of them, but I need to do a few more hill workouts for my next race.

* My last 3 miles put me in somewhat of a competition with a race walker. I didn't get a look if he was registered for the walk or the run. But I would go into my slow jog and pass him. Then I would walk and he would pass me. I wasn't totally dead by this time of the run, because I still managed to pass a few people in the final 3 miles.

* There was an odd free food offering at the end of the race. I picked up a hand-crafed chocolate raspberry doughnut. I couldn't bring myself to eat it, but someone in my family appreciated it.

* I missed my cheering section during this race. I didn't know the course all that well, nor did my dear wife--and with the rain, it seemed like it would be a wasted effort to have a cheering section. But my dear wife and daughters took the trip with me to Woodinville, sent me off with love and encouragement and welcomed me back. Daughter #1 really likes these races--I think I'll sign us up to volunteer sometime.

* My recovery is going well. I feel a little achy, which is helped by some ibuprofen and some short walks to keep out the stiffness. I must have been clinching my shoulders, because my trapezius ache a little. During the race all I could feel cramping was my hip flexors. I will be ready for a short run either tomorrow or Thursday. Thanks to .Jeff Galloway's training program I'm not going out of commission just because I ran a race. I'm spent, but I can function.

* I'm going to look for a 5k to run sometime around Thanksgiving. I want to do some longer cross training, so I definitely don't want to train for a longer race. I'm looking to go biking on Fridays with my new day off and pull along daughter #2 on the copious trails in the area.

I will compete in another half-marathon, I'm just not sure when or where it will happen.

College football viewing will be different

I remember the simpler days when I could roll out of bed on a Saturday morning of my youth and catch the early SEC Football game on Jefferson Pilot Sports. About 830 or 9am, that first game aired on the in the Pacific Time Zone, and I could watch football all day if I wanted to, highlighted by a big Washington Huskies game with my Dad and brothers. Three or four games per day began some football watching glory days.

I don't take over the television on Saturdays as an adult, though I have found ways to get a college football fix--Sirius was a big help or listening to games on the Web. I could do chores or errands and still get out a shout with my girls in the car, while I worked in the garage, folded laundry or gathered sermon materials. Rare are the days of total sports couch potato. I usually save a day like that for the NCAA Basketball Tournament in March. There's something about being outside on a crisp fall day, working in the yard, preparing for winter among the changing leaves.

This year I return to going to a college football game with one or both of my brothers and some friends. The gathering around a college football game is like no other event.

Though the Thursday night games were big this week (quite a skirmish between Boise State and Oregon), tomorrow marks the beginning of a great season, and I can taste the promise and joy of the cooler weather along with the drama of football and the close of baseball season.

Reliving the field trip through tourism

In some places I have lived, some points of the city were only viewed when visitors came from out of town:

Twin Cities, MN: Mall of America
Copenhagen, Denmark: The Little Mermaid

The Milwaukee, Wisconsin, metro had good things to do, but not in the classical tourist sight-seeing fashion. In Wisconsin, cultural tourism is the way to go. Some of the best times my dear wife and I enjoyed during our 2.5 years there involved basic activities that locals enjoy as well: eating brats/sausage, cheese and the abundance of beer; fish fries (amazing cultural activity--I once read Wisconsin is the highest fish consumption state in the country), enjoying the beautiful autumns, walking near the lake shore, attending sporting events in Madison, Milwaukee Brewers baseball, and Lambeau field. All of these places involve good interaction with locals, something that cannot be promised at a particular tourist destination. I'm not anti-tourist (though I can only handle being a tourist in small doses), I like to find places to visit where I can talk to locals about life in that place.

Seattle has more sights similar to Copenhagen and the Twin Cities. With some visitors coming to town recently, we were off to the kid-friendly stops, the Seattle Aquarium, Pike Place Market and the Space Needle. The Seattle Aquarium is an interesting conglomeration of school/summer camp field trippers, tourists, and local families. I attended at least 2 field trips to the Seattle Aquarium as a child, and visited there on other occasions. I know field trips still occur in these days of slashed education budgets and increased standardized testing, but my anecdotal observation says field trips are dying as an educational experience. That makes me feel melancholy about education. Ultimately, my children will know much more than me in their lifetimes, but I believe in the field trip education experiences I had as a child. The girls and I thoroughly enjoyed the aquarium that day--the best part being that they could touch sea cucumbers, sea anemones, sea urchins and starfish. If the place wasn't crawling with street urchins, I could have hung out there poking and gazing at the sea life for hours--ah, to explore without a schedule--but we let the girls spend the most time there. If I could have been any kind of scientist, it would have involved oceanography.

Of the non-touching exhibits, we liked the jellyfish and the seals the most. We see a lot of jellies on the Puget Sound, but at the aquarium, we were able to examine their intricacies in clearer water behind Plexiglas. Watching seals in captivity is a love-hate experience. They interact with the humans like no other sea life I have seen; they were hamming it up and made us all laugh several times. I wonder about mammals in captivity. I'm sure plenty of people are appalled by the whole enterprise, but I also value the appreciation and awareness about God's creatures that comes from a visit that my girls take to the Seattle Aquarium.

The Space Needle is a place for great views of Seattle and the Puget Sound, but it's not the only viewpoint available in the region. If you want to dodge people taking pictures of one another, purchase expensive provisions and kitsch, the Space Needle is for you. It deserves one or maybe two visits in a lifetime--it might have been enjoyable if the girls weren't so hungry and cranky. I think I got whiplash from keeping my head on a swivel all day--keeping track of two busy girls in a big city takes significant effort, which is probably why my parents didn't take my brothers and I to downtown Seattle on a regular basis.

Now that I have just about squarely hit midlife, I'm the one providing direction and guidance more often in more settings--this little tourist trip represented a shift of roles for me as a Pacific Northwesterner. Our visitors provided me with an opportunity to refine my cultural attache routine for whomever makes the trek to the Seattle metro. Come on over!

Advice for The Onion if it was trying to attract a regional audience...

If the Onion wanted to market this article in the Northern Great Plains, they would replace "casserole" in the headline with "hotdish."