Thoughts

Thoughts and Adventures From Greenlite Heavy Industries

Wednesday, December 24, 2008

I Tuck My Dung Do Da Pole

We’re in the middle of an unusual cold snap here in Seattle. The temps haven’t crested freezing in seven days, and the mercury had dropped to the teens early last week. Last Tuesday I was helping out in Sophia’s first grade class when a little dude came up and said “I tuck my dung do da pole.”
“What?” I asked.
“I tuck my dung do da pole,” he repeated.
“You stuck your tongue to the pole!”
“Yeah.”
“Let me see,” I said, whereupon the little guy proudly stuck out his red speckled mangled tongue. I couldn’t help it; I just busted a gut, I mean I couldn’t stop laughing. He found it as funny as I did and laughed right along with me. When we both finally regained our composure I asked if he was ever going to make that mistake again.
“No way, nope.” He said.
Many things change, while a few things remain the same.

Thursday, December 18, 2008

Tough Girl




This is an image I shot a couple of years ago while waiting in a lift line at Stevens Pass Ski Area. The bluebird sky reflected in this tough girl's chrome dome says it all.

Tuesday, December 16, 2008

You and I Soar Together

Picture luscious fluff.
Drive under smooth diamond light
in a sweet winter daydream.
No wind.
Worshiping her beauty
through white lather spray.
A vision of the shining Goddess.
Sky girls
and
storm boys
hit shots
and
crush the red sun
with a symphony of cool wax music.
You and I soar together.
A little refrigerator magnet poetry I pieced together while staying at Kaj and Mylon's Whistlerhaus. My sole attempt at poetry. Bring on the snow.

Saturday, December 6, 2008

The Comfort Zone

I’ve been an active guy for about thirty years now: skiing, running, biking, mountaineering, kayaking and more recently Ironman length triathlons. I’ve completed two Ironman races, neither one without at least one cracked leg bone, and quite honestly I don’t know how many races my creaking and groaning skeleton has left. My goal is to complete at least one Ironman totally healthy, to lay it all on the line and to see where I measure up. Where do I measure up exactly? What is that measure of success – Kona? Obtaining a slot for the Ironman World Championships in Kona, Hawaii, would require shaving at least two hours off of my PR, an obviously impossible task – right? The events of yesterday morning caused me to question this previously obvious conclusion.
Every Friday morning Stephanie, Amy and I meet swim instructor/coach Ty Rudolph for what we call “swim lessons.” Ty is unorthodox, to say the least, and at first he had us doing strange, yet surprisingly fun, drills – nothing too taxing. I actually kind of looked forward to these sessions as a kind of play time. Well as of yesterday play time is over. The workout that Ty pushed me through was one of the hardest physical experiences I’ve had, including races, since my high school wrestling days.
I learned two things yesterday: the first being the discovery of untapped potential, doors that I have yet to open. I wasn’t even one third of the way through this workout when I started thinking up excuses to get out of the pool: my head hurts, I have to take my mom to the doctor, the list went on, but somehow each time Ty yelled out I pushed away from the wall and went at it one more time. He kept yelling “get out of your comfort zone, get out of your comfort zone,” my comfort zone was a distant memory. I thought I was dead tired, that the well was dry, but each time I simply concentrated on getting to the other end of the pool, making the turn and getting back, that’s all I focused on and that’s all I did.
The second thing I learned was the real world concept of leaving nothing behind. Stephanie and I are compatible swimmers, neither great nor shameful, middle of the road, but yesterday she kicked my butt. It wasn’t because she has impeccable form in the water or that her fitness level so exceeds mine; she dusted me because she worked harder, it was as simple as that. For the past two years I’ve been kidding myself, plodding through week and after week of half-assed workouts. It’s time for a change and I might as well start now.