Amargosa

Last night I watched Amargosa, the documentary about Marta Becket and the creation of her Amargosa Opera House in Death Valley Junction. Maybe it was the beer (count=1), maybe it's my hormones (raging), or maybe it's the message ("to thine own self be true") that had me sobbing almost uncontrollably through much of it. This is a great film that has to be seen by anyone feeling an unexplainable need to keep searching ... even if they don't know what they're searching for. I was hoping to go to Death Valley Junction (originally Amargosa) this weekend until I learned that Marta Becket's performances in the Opera House are on hiatus until November. So, I have to wait until the Fall to see her perform. I might just make the trip out there before then. I feel like I just can't wait.

Coyote Cottage

I discovered this website several months ago. It's one of my favorites. It's been recently updated, as well. It's a must check-out for ANYBODY feeling the need to live a simpler life. It CAN be done! I especially love that these folks used to live in Bishop, but decided it was too bureaucratic ! Obviously, I have a long way to go. Go to: coyotecottage.com

Goat Mama

I lifted this photo from a website I googled on dairy goats. Yes, that's a goat, not a dog! I'm not there yet, that is, not quite 100% with the goat thing. We did have a conversation this morning about 'space in the yard' that seemed promising. sorta. I'm still looking into it and wondering if it's a commitment I can make right now. But someday....for sure.

Little Jerry hits the big time!

I ran into my friend, Deena, tonight at the gym; well, not literally ran into her, good God, I would have killed her with my 125 pounds crashing into her 98-some odd …. but we hadn't talked in a while so we stopped to catch up. My good friend Nancy Bristow arrived shortly after, and joined in on the conversation which had basically been going in the direction of “what are your weekend plans?” Nancy asked if we'd gotten the chicks that Rick and I were planning on getting. Deena dropped her medicine ball and said “YOU’VE GOT CHICKENS?! I didn't know you had chickens!" She had this incredulous look on her face. Then almost under her breath she asked, "Do you sell eggs?!” Apparently she’d been on the hunt for someone who owned chickens because she really really REALLY wants fresh organic eggs. So, I told her that when I had another dozen I'd drop some by. Wait until she hears that we homebrew too!

Ah yeah, Little Jerry is hitting the big time!! I can see it now, Deena hoisting her gold medal in Beijing, right hand across her heart, wearing a singlet that reads "Fueled by Little Jerry's Organic Eggs. Bishop, CA, USA" HAAAAAaaaaaa!! Check out your Running USA athletes at http://runmammoth.com/

More to come...

I'm hoping to post about a few goings on of late. Nothing earth-shattering: adopt-a-kayak, starting my berry patch, more baby chicks on the horizon, Bishop High Sierra Ugh-ltra, Eastern Sierra Double Century. Hold your breath ;-D

Coaching Terry - Swim Training Day 1

This morning was Terry’s first day of swim training. He knows how to swim with a body that functions normally. But he hasn’t tried to swim since returning from Iraq (he was an army medic in Operation Desert Storm). With legs that he can’t control, or feel, and with very little core strength, he has his work cut out for him. After speaking to him briefly last night, I wasn’t really sure he was going to show up at Whitmore Pool this morning. He admitted to having a high level of anxiety about this; I think he is still hoping that I will do the swim portion of the CAF race in La Jolla Cove, in October. Having expressed huge concerns about ocean swimming and sharks to me last month, the death-by-great-white of the Solana Beach triathlete a few weeks back completely buried his confidence.

I got to the pool at 6:30, swam a bit, and was very pleased to see Terry wheel onto the pool deck at 7 as we agreed. He wheeled over to my lane, and I showed him how I thought he should get into the water. He maneuvered out of his chair, and was able to crouch down and then onto his butt with his feet dangling in the water. “Man that’s cold!” were his first words. He’s wearing a tshirt and cut off jeans. I showed him the foam buoy and strap that I’d brought to keep his legs afloat, and after many seconds of looking at it with some consternation, he shook his head in a “yes” fashion, and we strapped it in place. Then he finally began to scoot his butt to the edge of the pool. Balancing his weight on his hands he began straightening his legs until his feet grazed the bottom of the pool. He asked if his feet were touching and when I confirmed that they were touching the side, he slowly lowered himself into the pool. Slowly. Very slowly.

After several minutes, he finally accepted that he was committed, and released his arms so that he was standing in the water. Actually, I’m thinking that his arms just got tired of holding up his body weight, and realizing that he couldn’t really pull himself back up and out from this position, he gave in to the inevitable. Although he was standing, he kept falling over. He said that it seemed like the movement of the water was throwing off his balance, and although he tried to look away, he said “but I’m going to have to be looking at the water when I swim. I didn’t expect this.” I coaxed him into turning toward the edge of the pool so that he could hold on for a bit.

We spent the next several minutes just talking about the “baby steps” nature of our goal. I told him that my goal for him today was just to get comfortable with being in the water. We practiced shuffling out and away from the edge of the pool. I had him practice floating on his back to understand that the buoy between his legs would, indeed, keep his legs at the surface of the water. Then we practiced balance, prone, using a kickboard. He was unable to prevent himself from rolling over in the water and ending up on his back. This will have to be our focus for a long time.

After about 40 minutes, we decided that we’d done enough. Terry hoisted himself out of the pool on his first try and pulled himself back up into his chair. He was smiling, and we talked for a few minutes about what changes we could make for the next time. Today was a great learning day for both of us; both novices at this notion of challenged athlete swimming.

Scroll through the blog to read more about Coaching Terry.

Spring in the Eastern Sierra

Yesterday marked one of my favorite days of the entire year in the ES: the opening day of lap swimming at Whitmore Pool. 6:30 a.m. Water temp 78, air temp 40. I love this pool! It's a local's secret. It's never crowded, costs a mere $4 for drop-in, and of course at 7000 foot elevation it's surrounded by the beautiful Sierras. Ahhhh, another morning in Paradise. :-)

Rural Graffiti

I pulled onto Starlite Drive tonight on my way home, and immediately noticed something new. Inyo County (?) or maybe CalTrans (?) painted a bright black and yellow center divide in the middle of the road. Why in the hell they felt the need to do this on a road that is strictly residential and handles an average of one vehicle perhaps every 4 minutes, I’m sure I’ll never know. I almost feel like it’s “graffiti” in our secret ‘hood tucked behind the hills. Maybe it will be gone in the morning.

Another reason Hollywood blows

http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,352736,00.html

Basic Needs

Speaking of basic needs:

"With more than a billion people lacking access to safe drinking water, and five million people dying of water-related disease every year, here's an opportunity to make a small but extremely meaningful difference."

http://www.treehugger.com/files/2008/04/lifestraw-family-water-filter-sponsor-project-h.php

Quest for Sustainability

I keep a “to do” list on my computer desktop. It is a daily reminder of what I really need to be doing, what I could be doing, what I wish I could be doing, and future things I need to think about doing. It’s not stratified at all according to wants and needs, though it probably should be. In fact, much of it borders on the theme of “how to make more money in less time so I can play more often, all while eliminating as much waste as possible.” I recently began thinking about the level of attention (e.g., stress) that this underlying thought has in my life, and the “mindcycle” (so to speak) that fuels it. I realize this is not an earth-shattering concept; philosophers, scientists, environmentalists (e.g.,“hippies”), and many others have been contemplating thoughts like this (in part, at least) for centuries. And I think it (quest for cash) is really what drives people to get out of bed on a daily basis. Let me clarify: I’m not, and never really have been, driven by monetary gain or goals.

Personally, I came to the conclusion in the last 3 years that I can’t address life like most of my 30-40 something year old counterparts: those people who are considered, and most importantly consider themselves, relatively “successful” – in the generally accepted definition of that word. That is, they are: married, have kids, content in gated-community McMansion-style home ownership, have a combined 6-digit income, spend their evenings on a leather couch watching ‘whatever’ on their 60” flat screen TV, and take annual vacations to “anywhere elsewhere” (excuse me for a moment while I go outside to hang my laundry to dry; a luxury not afforded to those successful homeowners living in gated communities & in accordance with their HOA’s anti-white-trash regs!). Rather, over the last 3 years, I’ve learned that my quality of life is dictated by freedom: freedom to breathe clean air; freedom from bumper-to-bumper traffic; freedom to run, alone, without fear, along mountain and desert trails whenever I want; freedom to never have to lock my doors (day or night; I don’t even own a key to my house); freedom to have chickens clucking in my backyard; freedom to hang my laundry in the backyard to dry. These are all freedoms which have nothing to do, really, with money. But the freedoms I enjoy do have to do with time. I do want more freedom of time. And that’s just assuming that I am going to be granted many more years of life to enjoy that freedom of time (which is, a driver in itself: the retirement nest egg).

I want more freedom of time, and that is something that cannot be bought, yet, the equation translates into having more money with less time invested, to pay those necessary bills and to pay for those things in life that I really need. The solution for me, it seems, is having to sacrifice those freedoms I love for more money (by moving back to a bigger city to make a larger income) and saving for several years, and then leaving when that bank account seems big enough-as if there is any way to really know that for sure. That’s not an attractive option, so instead, I’ve been closely scrutinizing those things that I really “need” and determining that maybe, perhaps, those things that I really need I can get more easily on my own, and with my own creativity, and without paying much, if anything, to anyone else for them. Thus, my journey has begun, scrutinizing my way of living, and the waste that I create through consumption of foods, gasoline, “just stuff” and, particularly, in time.

Puck and 'Mo

Puck, the black lab we nearly lost to a rattlesnake bite last year, and Cozmo, my 13-1/2 year old dalmatian. Need I say more ?

Eastern Sierra Weather

Friggen ES weather ! Forecast calling for snow and to expect winter driving conditions Tuesday night and Wednesday, along with gusty winds. This past weekend I began packing away my winter wear. Saturday night the weather station on our roof measured sustained winds in the 30-35 mph range, and gusts over 55 mph. Most of our fencing remained intact, somehow. I'm learning that there is no 'Spring' in the Eastern Sierra !

The Farm

I'm extremely lucky to live where I do. Not only do we have the space for the dogs, there's plenty of room for our 3 chickens! And they all get along mahvelously .... I'm working on getting a couple of goats, next. I was already told "NO" but, I'm not easily convinced :-D

Coaching Terry

18April08

I’ve known Terry now for about 3 years. He is an Iraq War Veteran (Operation Desert Storm) with peripheral neuropathy. Over the past 3 years I’ve seen his mobility deteriorate; from crutching around the physical therapy clinic where I work, to now spinning around in his ultralight wheelchair. When I first met Terry, he seemed (rightfully so) fairly angry. Nobody was able to do anything for him to fix his problem. Getting his physical therapy paid for was a major ordeal, and he was resentful. I felt bad for him; his problems are real, yet so much about the disabilities that vets come home with, especially one like his, are not taken very seriously.

Terry seems to have transformed over this short time. He found Disabled Sports Eastern Sierra (http://www.disabledsportseasternsierra.org) and has been an integral participant, instructor, and mentor for many other athletes with physical and cognitive challenges. I became involved with DSES shortly after I met Terry, and volunteered as an instructor with them for a year; but I then decided to spend the past winter pursuing my own personal desire to learn telemark and Nordic skiing. I’m still far from skilled at these forms of skiing, but, I feel that next winter I can go back to volunteering time with DSES. There is such a sense of satisfaction and reward for “just being” at the end of a day with these students.

Today I met with Terry for his first “official” coaching session to prepare him for the San Diego Challenged Athletes Foundation triathlon in October. He has spent a fair amount of time over the past summer on his hand cycle, finishing a good chunk of the Fall Century bike ride; not only attempting to ride 100 miles in a hand cycle, but that would be 100 miles at an altitude of 7000-8000 feet. I’m excited to be part of a team (myself, plus 2 physical therapists from our clinic) that will help Terry to success in October. During our session today he told me that he received approval from the Forest Service to “rehabilitate” the trail from Mosquito Flats to around Rock Creek Lake, essentially widening it, to make it wheelchair accessible; backcountry wheelchair required, of course. I was amazed by this; as far as he knows, there is no one else in the country advocating for wheelchair accessibility to the backcountry. According to Terry, presently, national (congressional?) mandate is that trails be no more than 22” wide. He successfully generated a modification in this mandate (at least at the state of California level) that would allow the widening of trails to 24” – just wide enough to accommodate a wheelchair.

Terry skis Mammoth Mountain as well as I do (probably better, actually), maneuvering his mono and bi-ski, and he just championed wheelchair access to the backcountry in the Eastern Sierra. Terry has found the one person who can fix his problem. That person, of course, is him. Now if I can only convince Terry that he CAN, as well, champion the ocean swim in La Jolla Cove this October ….

Ultra running

16April08

A beginner’s perspective:

Several weeks ago I went home to visit my mom. For some time now, these visits have followed a particular pattern. She is in the process of trying to sell her home; the house I grew up in, that my parents bought in 1968. In preparation, mom has been setting aside boxes of my childhood junk, photos, dolls, ballet recital outfits, 3^rd grade poetry, and such, all for me to sort through and take home with me. I’m not big on sentimentality I guess, because given the choice, most of these things end up in the trash next to the garage. Certain that I’ve made a huge mistake and that I’ll really want that tutu someday, mom goes outside, sifts back through the trash and puts most of these things back into my box and sets it aside, until my next visit home.

During this particular visit, I found a photo in my box that brought a strange comfort to me. As I continued to look at it, I began to smile, and then I laughed. I thought, “wow, I really understand you now.” The photo is from about 1972, maybe 1973, and captures 7 little girls sprinting down the track at our local high school. It’s from my fourth grade track meet: the 100 yard dash. I’m the smallest girl in the photo, but only because I’m so far back in the pack that I look about half the size of the others. The photo has caught my pigtails defying gravity; I’m running as fast as I possibly can, one knee and one arm high in the air. As I held that photo in my hand, I distinctly remember running SO FAST! Like the wind! Yet, I finished dead last. Clearly not sprint material, that moment marked the birth of an endurance runner.