Yoga And Wisdom

Yoga and wisdom?
Okay, look not every yoga teacher can be 80 years old, do handstands, full lotus or scorpion and simultaneously offer fountains of life altering platitudes of faith or dramatic/mind boggling stories.
I bring this up because I just read an article on Yoga Journal online that was critical of today's yoga, the beautiful bodies doing asanas on a beach and the myriad of yoga selfies on IG and other social hot spots.
I go to a yoga class nearly every day and many of the yoga teachers are young enough to be my kids and even grandkids. Also, all of them are beautiful.
Not all of them constantly recite from the sutras.
But do you know what they do?
They welcome me, smile at me, are respectful of me and encourage me to push through many times difficult obstacles. They treat me as an equal.
And you know something?
That to me is the greatest wisdom there is and it is all of the wisdom I need shared with me. None of what they feed to me in a yoga class is bullshit! Well. Almost none of it! 😂
There.
I said it. That's my voice. Read it and weep. Or not.
Happy Holidays! 🙏

Christmas, harvest and Pickles

My number one son tells me they wrapped up harvest yesterday so that was great to hear. I'm sure that's a relief since it was such a long drawn out affair this year.
This was always kind of a special time of the year when I was a kid because harvest was over and each Christmas eve my dad would put out extra straw bedding for the animals. There was the anticipation of Santa's arrival and what he would bring and the smell of fresh pine needles in the living room from the newly decorated Christmas tree. It was a lot less hectic or stressful than the busy farming days during the summer and fall.
Apparently my daughter-in-law and number two son's kitten Pickles likes the Christmas season too. I was over checking on the kittens one day last week while the building maintenance crew did their thing. I'm told Pickles gets kind of nervous when strangers are around but for whatever reason he and I get along just fine. He even jumped up on my lap and purred a bit but his favorite lounging spot was under the Christmas tree.
Guess Pickles is a party or holiday cat at heart!

Rejection isn't a four letter word

I suppose one of many perks of being older is that rejection isn't such an awful thing. I don't know if anyone ever gets used to being rejected.  But after living 20 or 30 or more years, most of us learn that it is indeed a part of life and it happens more often the harder one tries to accomplish anything worth going after.

When I went through my youthful experience of drinking copious amounts of alcohol for about 10 years, the rejection factor didn't seem to matter. Heck, if one stays drunk enough nothing matters other than trying to lie and manipulate enough to stay out of or get out of serious trouble.
But when the music stops and life begins, it's then that the feelings of rejection begin and in the early stages of facing reality head on, the rejections are numerous and many of them really hurt.
You're not big enough, strong enough, educated enough or seemingly enough of anything for about any endeavor.

Then suddenly one realizes that many of the rejections are compliments in disguise and one begins to see rejection as a blessing not a curse. Life becomes much easier and more fun when that realization takes hold.

What a horrible feeling it is to be hired for a job and once it begins you realize it isn't at all what you want to be doing or maybe the job description didn't fit with your experience and education at all. An upfront brutal rejection by the hiring manager would have been a gift.

Or on the romantic front, you find yourself involved with someone for a period of time and then realize you've been sold a bill of goods, in fact deceived. You realize the person you're with isn't at all what the initial packaging advertised. Now the daily mantra becomes, how do I get out of this one!

All of this I suppose is a part of living and is how most of us learn about life.
Some people learn by logic but it seems most of us learn by bitter experience.

The saving grace of being older is that although the rejections continue, one can retreat in peace and with a smile since the daily mantra becomes...I'm weary, been there-done that so I don't really give a fuck about your stupid party anyway!

Nostalgia over the Triple Post and a great man named Tex

I opened my K-Stater magazine the other day and lo and behold Tex Winter was featured in a two page spread.
Some of you may not know this, but Tex was the basketball coach when I was at K-State and he was a good one. We won a lot of games and although KU was still the king, everyone in the old Big 8 still had to go through us to get to the top. He won 8 Big 8 titles and took the Wildcats to the final four twice, in 1958 and 1964. Oklahoma State and Henry Iba also were a force to be reckoned with during those years in the old Big 8 conference.
Coach Winter died this fall at age 96 and was the innovator of the triple post offense or triangle offense. He was hired by the Bulls to install the triple post when Phil Jackson took over and went with Jackson to the Lakers. So basically Coach Tex Winter taught the triple post offense to Michael Jordan and won 9 NBA championships with that offense. But Jackson, Jordan and Kobe got the credit? Okay well that's an exaggeration but it makes an interesting story. It does take some talented and intelligent players to run it.
A true story is that local Courtland, Kansas farmer John "Johnny" Blackburn came back from a trip to K-State and told our coach Raymond "Stewie" Stewart about Winter's triple post offense. I think Winter wrote his book about the triple post around the same time. This was the winter of 1961-62.
Anyway Stewie and Johnny thought we were bright enough to run the triple post so we practiced, and practiced and practiced including the dreaded daily wind sprints. By the way Johnny Blackburn was in his late '30s then and could still whup any one of us on either end of the court. Practicing against him was like wrestling a pissed off bull. Many times I didn't get home until dark but we managed to put together a pretty good high school team the year I was a senior and ran our version of the triple post in about 70 percent of our games and won most of them, enough to win the Pike Trail League and the District tournament. We got beat in the Regional tournament and kept from going to state by a team from Bird City that played as tough a man defense as us and was as disciplined controlling the ball as us. The score was 34 to 32!
The triple post requires a lot of decision making and movement by the players and I know it was hard for Stewie to give up play calling control but he did it. Of course if we made a bad decision he let us have it with both barrels. It wasn't abuse back in those days...it was coaching! Ha!
Our version of the triple post included sophmore Kenny Henrickson (big dude) and my senior teammates Robert Carlgren and John Freed in constant motion, rotating in the post, setting pics getting each other open so cousin Kenny Russell and I could find an open player for the shot as we continuously moved in a semi-circular motion around the perimeter. If the defensive guards dropped off us too far to clog the middle then we took the shot.
Some teams required a three guard match up so sharp shooting sophmore Gene Macintosh would start instead of Henrickson. In those games Gene, Kenny and I would work the perimeter while Carlgren and Johnny Freed worked a double post. This was my favorite setup because I didn't have to handle the ball quite as much or make as many decisions or get my fanny chewed by Stewie as much. Ha!
I could go on but you get my drift, assuming you've read this far. Ha!
Have a great day!

Isn't It Amazing

Isn't it amazing how short a mile is when you're in shape and how long a block is when you have diarrhea?

Staying In Shape

Staying in shape, or at least keeping from falling apart is quite a challenge for me in the winter, especially this winter.
I vowed to keep running through the winter but I have to confess I wimped out in January with the single digit readings and below zero wind chills here in the windy city.
As much as I despise the treadmill, I have managed to crawl onto the beast and get in a lot of 20 to 40 minute cardio workouts through the week and have kept up with my yoga and pilates workouts. I was talking to my pilates instructor, who up close appears to be in her 40s but from a distance looks to be in her mid-20s, about my lack of energy and she told me to get back into the weights.
She said she was having the same problem and started lifting again. I thought that was a pretty bold statement coming from a pilates guru. Sometimes I think pilates, yoga or about any other instructor thinks their way is the only way to health.
Anyway, I took her advice and got back into weights about twice a week this winter and lo and behold she was right!
My energy is much better since I started working with the weights so I plan to stay with the weight work. I'm currently lifting twice a week and want to work in a third session each week.
As usual, I want to do everything so am struggling a little with balance while I wait for some of the snow and ice to melt so I can run outside without falling on my ass and freezing my fingers.
I just can't get into running all bundled up like a damned Santa Claus.
Okay, so I'm a woose but I feel like I'm getting a little tougher and maybe someday I'll try another one of those crazy marathons?
And maybe not, we'll see!
Carry on.

Depression and all that jazz

One reason I run, do yoga, pilates and lift a few weights is to escape depression. I firmly believe that if I take care of my body my mind will follow.
I'm told that we're in the midst of the worse financial crisis since the Great Depression that my dad experienced in the 30s.
Well I know I have it a lot better than my dad did and maybe we will end up in some weird depression but I can't imagine anything worse than what my father experienced.
My boss at work asked me to write a witness piece about my dad's experience and I did that and here it is.

Maybe I'll lose my job and have to run for a living?
Oh well, it could be worse, I actually enjoy running and none of my running buddies have ever asked me for any money so I have to say I've got it made.

WITNESS-This is no depression like that one
By Sam Nelson
CHICAGO,xxx (Reuters) - The country was in the throes of the Great Depression. It was a time of upheavel, of personal challenges and a test of the nation's mettle.
It was under these circumstances that dad, Clarence John Nelson, better known as Bud, decided to leave Scandia, Kansas, for a job in Chicago.
It was 1936, he was 19 years old, without a job and getting desperate.
Kansas farm life was in shambles because the deteriorating economy made worse year after year of dry weather that turned the sunflower state into part of the Dust Bowl.
Bud was recommended for employment at the Homestead Hotel in Evanston, Illinois, by the pastor of the Swedish United Methodist Church in Scandia. "Gosh I remember in the thirties, going up there to work at Evanston (a Chicago suburb), at the Homestead Hotel washing dishes, we didn't have a darned thing and there weren't any jobs, so away I went...took a bus," he told me recently.
Dad is 92 years old now, living in Kansas and looking at the country going through another period of financial chaos that is being referred to as the second Great Depression.
This time around, he's doing it from the confines of my sister's home, where he has lived after his wife and my mother passed away in 2005.
But memories of the 'first' Great Depression remain etched in his mind, especially those six months in Evanston.
"I'll never forget one time I took the L (train) downtown (Chicago) and some guy tried to get me in a store and sell me a suit, so I got scared and took the L back to Evanston," he said.
Built in 1927, the Homestead Hotel still stands in Evanston. And like many businesses today struggling with the financial and economic turmoil, the hotel went through a few challenges of its own back then, according to its website http://www.thehomestead.net/.
"After the 1929 stock market crash, the inn carried debt from being built when land and materials were at a premium," the website said. But owners -- Philip A. Danielson and wife Ruby Larson -- were able to keep it from falling into the hands of its creditors.
Dad's heading to Evanston and working at the Homstead Hotel, apart from getting paid, had a second objective -- to be able to earn enough money to be able to attend college.
But those plans went awry as he began missing home about six months into the job.
"The idea was I'd work and go to school but there wasn't anytime for school," he said.
"Mom wrote me a letter in the spring and talked about planting garden and I got so darned homesick. I just quit, took the bus back home," he added.
Dad found out quickly that there were no jobs in Kansas, but he got lucky.
"There still wasn't any work around here. Farming was no good, but I was lucky and got a job as an oiler on a dragline.
"They were going to dredge and straighten out the river, but that was another scam because that river had a mind of it's own," he said. "When that job ended they asked me to go to South America with them for some other job.
"But I met your mom here, she was teaching school and we started farming, boy it was tough...no one had a damned thing," he added.
"I've often wondered what would have happened if I would have stayed there in Chicago."


· · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · ·
Samuel Nelson
Correspondent
Reuters News

Just Thinking

I was jus thinking that wouldn't it be great if we were all runners at heart.
There would be no more wars, no petty arguments about money or fame or status.
I now know why I run and why I miss being able to keep up with my running buddys.
It's because after a couple of miles, we're all in a deep sweat and our feelings flow.
It's at that point that we become equals, you and I, no matter the size, appearance, status in society, race or gender.
We become a beautiful machine destined to cross the finish line.
Just thinking.
Thanks for letting me share my life with you.

Elvis Is Alive

Finally I got in a run that actually resembled running.
My running buddy Sara encouraged me to jump into the annual Elvis Is Alive 5k race Thursday night on the Lakefront here in the Windy City.

The race is sponsored by Fleet Feet one of the major running stores here and it is a lot of fun what with the Elvis impersonators and all, but I decided to try to be myself, despite whatever consequences that might bring.

I haven't had a good refreshing run in over a year and have really battled trying to get back in shape after my setback last summer. It's been very discouraging and frankly big, big valleys of depression have been knocking me on my ass.

Well Elvis Is Alive and I'm back dammit!

Sara is a new runner, full of piss and vinegar and she is built for speed. She has those long lean legs, graceful efficient stride and tiny upper body (don't tell her I wrote this), no woman wants a tiny upper ya know but we all have to play with the hand we're delt.

I met her over a year ago when she was getting started in this running game and we became fast friends, at least she is fast and hopefully I can continue to be a friend.

She is in great shape and I am not but she told me she would run, trot, walk or whatever with me, which is nice but it still embarasses me that I can't do what I think I can do. Ya know, the old mind is willing but body is weak? Oh hell, let's don't go there.

We posted up near the back of the pack and it was quite a pack. Lots of wacky runners on a narrow concrete path so staying upright was goal number one and try to run a little was goal number two.

Mile One:
11:03 min, not fast but faster than the 12 min pace I've been trying to run this summer. My pacing and judgment are off too because the really slow training runs have been taxing me and frankly confusing and frustrating me. Sara, bless her little pea picking heart that must have a built in metronome, was calling our pace WITHOUT A FREAKIN WATCH! How does she do that being such a new runner and all?

Mile Two:
I'm prepared to bonk or slow down but it doesn't happen, we pick up the pace a little and hit the one aid station so decide to grab a gatorade and chat for a couple of minutes as we ambled along, naturally wasting valuable time, oh sure! Time talking with a fellow runner is gold to me.
We hit the two mile marker at 11:54 pace. Now it's getting interesting because we must have walked 2 minutes and walked really slow and I'm under 12 minute pace so I'm really prepared do die during the last mile...but for whatever reason...I don't die...I actually start to run a bit.

Mile Three:
I'm in a pretty good lather now and my legs are feeling great, I push out a little more with minimal effort and know I'm going faster but not sure how much because as I mentioned I'm really screwed up with my running, pacing and judgement.
We approach the three mile marker and Sara says "ten thirty" and my little watch says 10:33. Pretty damned close and I'm psyched as hell.

I'm not bonking the last mile but, in a throwback to the good ol days, I'm accelerating and feeling like I actually can run. What a great feeling! And we talked all the way through that last mile although my sentences were getting a bit shorter as the breathing began to pick up tempo.

Time for my first actual race in my new life, my little Elvis 5k, a blistering 34:33 or 11:07 pace.

Way slower than my PR of 24:20 but way faster than my 5k New Year's morning this year of something like 40 minutes.

Why am I feeling good about myself because I ran 3.1 miles and ran the last mile faster than the first two and knew I had more in me? Damned if I know, and I don't care, I just know that I feel good about myself today.

And I hope you're feeling good about you!

Struggling!

Ran or tried to do something resembling running this morning in the Miles For Malawi 5k race in Lincoln Park.
It was a nice morning but I struggled worse than I did last Sunday so I'm getting pretty discouraged and frustrated.
I keep thinking that if I stay with it I'll get a breakthrough someday but it's just not happening.

I know I should be grateful to be able to trot a little, and I am, but I want to get back that feeling that I can turn it on and off whenever I want.

Right now, I'm just involuntary shutting down, and I don't like it one bit.

I hope your runs and training are going much better.
Maybe someday I can give a positive report, you know the one that goes something like...."all of a sudden I felt I could really fly to the finish line?"
For now, it's a battle!

Father's Day Race

Sunday, Father's Day, Jacob, Jessica and I ran the 5k Loop the Loop race for Children's Memorial Hospital and what a way to celebrate my special day.

After a 1 hour delay because of wind, rain and lightening we took off in what felt like cool conditions but what turned out to be extremly humid conditions which made the little run quite a challenge for me.

I managed to finish the thing and met my predict time of a 12 minute pace, well a little off, 12:01 to be exact. I would like to say that each mile was an even 12 but in reality I ran the first two miles too fast and had to walk/run the last mile, so it wasn't pretty but I'll take it at this point.

J&J treated me to a nice brunch at Gibson's, a nice steak house here in the Gold Coast. We found a nice spot outdoors and the weather turned near-perfect so all in all a great Father's Day and I'm glad I felt good enough to enjoy it.

We plan to run another 5k this coming Sunday in Lincoln Park called Miles for Maliwa (not sure about the spelling but I'm too lazy to look it up). It's another charity run so I'm looking forward to it and hoping I can pick up the pace a little.

I'm back running as many of these little 5ks as I can find right now simply because they're doable and I enjoy them. I really miss the long runs with my running buddies and the anticipation of another marathon but I'm just not ready for the distance yet and hope I get a breakthrough someday that will tell me to go for it again. Will see.

For now, I'll take what I'm given and keep training.

I hope your runs, walks, quiet moments or whatever it is that gives you pleasure are going great.

Feeling Good!

My running is coming along quite well, surprisingly well.
Last Sunday Sara, one of my running buddies here, and I ran the annual Zoo Run 5k in Lincoln Park and we had a great time! It was a cool, breezy, sunny Sunday morning which is unusual this season with all the storms and rain around so we got a nice break in the weather.

It was Sara's first run in 7 months and I think she was pleasantly surprised at how easy it was for her, even though we planned to take it easy and did just that. Our goal was a 12 min pace and we averaged 11:57 so I was pretty thrilled with the pacing, especially in the narrow lanes packed with people, all of whom were in a good mood...which was a bonus.

I've always beat myself up for not being faster but after last year's setback I'm trying to mentally get a thrill out of pacing, trying to find a challenge in coming in as close as possible to a "predict" time. I think this is a good challenge for me as I heal up and my times are even coming down, without trying, so that is another bonus.

My first 5k since the injury was New Year's morning in the wind and snow in Lincoln Park and I struggled to run 13 min/mile so I know I'm improving.

Just running outdoors 3 days a week and from 3-4 half hour treadmill runs a week. Soon I plan to stretch my daily runs to 5 miles from the current 3 since I'm feeling pretty good but I'm sure in no hurry right now.

I had a wonderful two week vacation with family the last 2 weeks of May and that was good for me. We spent a lot of quality time and I was able to see my granddaughters play softball, a softball pitching drill with a professional instructor and a soccer match with 8-9 year olds. Now, that was a trip! Great fun! My little 5-year old granddaughter was in a dance recital the night of my 64th birthday and I've never had a better birthday present.

The markets are nuts but my work as a commodities reporter is going fine too so I have to say I'm a very lucky guy.

I'm looking forward to stretching out my runs someday but for now am focused on shorter runs for exercise and plan to pick up the pace and mileage when the spirit moves me...or something kicks me in the ass!

Hope your runs are going well!

Pissed Off

Yes I do get pissed off, especially when someone I really care about has a setback while following their dream.
The latest disappointment for me is my daughter Sarah's foot which hurts so bad she can't run. She started running a few months ago and worked up to a good solid 3 mile run, then it went to hell in a handbasket when what I think is tendinitis flared up in a foot.
I've had setbacks too but deal with my personal issues better than I deal with other peoples's issues.

Why that is I don't know, I just know that it is.

Freaking brilliant? Now get well and back to kicking butt Sarah.

By the way, I ran the annual Chicago Zoo Run 5k this morning with another Sara here in the Windy City and had a fantastic morning and good solid run so I'm scrambling back after a long layoff. It was Sara's first run in seven months and she was thrilled to know she hadn't lost it all, and that made me feel good all over. Ahhhh, yes I know I'm a fluffy ol' fart and it doesn't take much to make me happy these days.

Back from two weeks vacation with family and feeling frisky, well at least refreshed. Carry on wayward sons and daughters!

Start Training Now!

Okay, I have to make a quick post here and let whomever might stumble on to this freakin goofy blog that I'm officially in training for next year's (2009) Chicago Marathon.
My daughter Sarah was bitten by the running bug and is starting to crank out the miles now, getting for next year's Chi Thon and I plan to be there on the course, even if I can't keep up with her.
Somehow I have to get through at least one more marathon before I stumble off into the sunset.
Who knows, maybe more than one?
Dunno.
So far this year 2 5Ks, NY morning 13 min pace, another one 12 min and the annual Shamrock Shuffle here in the Windy City at 12 min for 8K, 5 miles.
Needless to say, I have a lot of work to do so wish me well.
Check out Sarah's blog and kick her ass for me.
I'm headed back to the land of corn and oz the last two weeks of May and run some freakin hills with her, I think:)

Keep on truckin!

Dreams Come True

Now that I've had a few days to let the stardust settle in my mind I think I'm ready to scratch out a few lines about my trip to Disneyworld on January 11-14 in Orlando, Florida and the related Walt Disney World Marathon weekend.

I had registered for the marathon last July with my son Jacob's special one Jessica and for any late comers to this blog you need to know that a heart attack and bypass surgery last August waylaid my plans to run this marathon. I was just glad to be able to be alive and see the spectacle and watch my son run it in my place. He and Jessica finished the darned thing and I don't know how because their training went almost totally to hell in November and December. Deep down inside I thought of suggesting they scratch because frankly I didn't see how two first timers could get through that distance on minimal training, but by damned they DID IT! They are the proud owners of a Mickey Mouse medal as big as my hand, it is beautiful and I'm really proud of their grit, determination and lack of fear. They are two gutsy competitors and I gained even more respect for them but I would have understood if they had pulled out too because I've done enough of those things to know how hard they are, even with proper training.

I had anticipated having a pretty good time at Disneyworld because of its reputation as the gold standard of amusement and theme parks but the occasion exceeded my expectations, frankly I was blown away and very impressed and it takes a pretty major jolt to impress me at this point in my life.

My daughter Sarah, soulmate Shayne and my two youngest granddaughers Rylee, age 7 and Scarlett age 5 joined in the fray and we had a wonderful, wonderful time. Sarah asked me what my favorite was and for the first time in my life I really couldn't pinpoint a favorite because in my mind everything was perfect, fun, good, clean and just pure fantasy. Jessica's mom Eileen and her friend Dick also enjoyed the weekend with us and it was good to be able to compare notes with Dick, who had bypass surgery two years ago. He told me I would be able to run marathons again. I almost cried when he said that, because I really want to and right now I'm still a bit beat up and out of shape.

Rylee is a bit bashful and shy about exteme events such as intense roller coasters but she finally agreed to ride the thunder railroad or some such thing and she sat with me. I was a bit concerned about doing this because I wasn't looking forward to a screaming seven year old on my hands about half way through a darned roller coaster ride. As it turned out it was one of the funniest and most fun times of the trip. After the initial up, down, up, down then a slower ascent up to catch our breath Rylee looked at me with a "what tha hell" quizzical look on her face and said "who's driving this thing?" We all laughed out loud at that one and I'm still laughing on the inside about the fact a little tot faced her fears, threw in with the family and ol' Grandpa Sam and let the good times roll. I confess I've been suffering a little lack of confidnce the past month about whether anyone will ever want to run with me again, much less ride a roller coaster, so it felt good that everyone felt secure that gramps could handle the coster with his little granddaughter. Needless to say, after it was over she wanted to ride the thing again and again. Sounds a little like distance running doesn't it. Once the first one is in the bag, bring on the next mountain.

Naturally, after that whirwind coaster ride I started to get cocky and went with the "big" people in our group on the Aerosmith Rock and Roller Coaster, and that my friend WAS one hell of a trip. They announced before we mounted that people with heart conditions should not do this one. Of course, I ignored their advice and figured that even though my running buddy Tanya wasn't there to give me CPR at the end, the Disney people surely must have a para-medic or two around. I have to face my fears and not let my setback keep me from living a full life. I was really grateful that no one in my group suggested I better not do it. They know me pretty well and are aware that I'll make my decisions and live or die with the consequences.

Jacob did say that that was his first and last marathon and that's also a fairly typical reaction to that event. Jessica has some crazy -assed idea to run one marathon in each of the 50 states. Either the person is hooked and wants to get to the next big run or the curiosity is satisfied and it's NEVER AGAIN! Either way it's okay and Jacob now has a first hand personal account of how difficult it is to cover the distance and has a fresh appreciation of all those who choose to make marathoning or ultras a career.

A bonus was running into Jenny Hadfield, a super special lady, the co-owner and coach extrodinare for Chicago Endurance Sports. She was there to run the marathon in honor of her father and with her brother, a first time marathoner. They both got through it in fine shape. Karma keeps on happening for me and bumping into Jenny in the middle of all those people and theme parks was sort of an out of body experience. She and several other runners with CES were instrumental in saving my fanny last summer and helped encourage me during my recovery. I'm forever in their debt and they're always in my thoughts and prayers.

I've never understood the special bond among runners and I've given up trying to understand it, I just know that there is a special connection regardless of age, gender, speed or financial status and I'm okay with that. When I think of equality I think of a brisk 10 mile run with one or more friends, it doesn't get any simpler or better than that.

We'll encourage each other, compete with each other, sweat, bitch and moan but in the end we're friends forever and for that I'm enternally grateful.

Snow Run 2008

My first run of 2008 was an eye opening experience, a brutal reminder and reality check of how far out of shape I've gotten since my little "event" of a heart attack, surgery and setback of last August.

I decided to walk to Lincoln Park and jump into the annual New Year's Day 5k race. I debated much of New Year's Eve and early this morning about doing this run because of the roughly six inch blanket of snow that included some ice and a blanket of powdery new snow that fell last night and earlier this morning.

The race didn't start until 11:00 a.m. so I had plenty of time to go through my usual mental gyrations of trying to talk myself out of venturing into the 20 degree temperature and 10 to 20 mph winds from my warm home here near the Lakefront.

But, I bundled up and headed out the door, knowing that if I got into trouble there was always the walking route I could take, and frankly I just wanted to start 2008 by being around some runners and get away from some of this god-awful depression and self-absorption. That mission was accomplished and as a bonus I ran into 4 or 5 of my old running friends, who were glad to see me. I sure was glad to see them.

When I started running I knew within about 100 yards that my mind had again deceived me and instead of running what for me would be an average pace I was going to be going real slow with a sole goal of finishing the thing without slipping and falling down. What amazed me, other than the sheer beauty of the morning, was the fact that there were some other people running just as slow as I, so I had some company despite my snail's pace.

I got through the darned thing but it took me 40 minutes, which is the slowest 5k I've ever ran, including my first ever attempt at the race so I have a lot of work to do and what's on my mind now is the concern that there is the possibility that no matter how hard I work, I may have lost the capacity to even run a somewhat respectable steady pace. In other words, it was really hard and another humbling experience.

I was on my feet about three hours total including the walking around and jawing time before the race and the walk home afterwards. Once upon a time that amount of time walking and running would have been a bit of a warmup for me but today's race pretty much wiped me out, and I don't like it one bit. But I think I better get used to it, accept it and work on being grateful that I can be somewhat mobile and take care of my business.

I will say that the blanket of snow, the piles of snow on the barren trees and the jovial and friendly atmosphere helped soothe my wounded pride. So I'll try to take it a day at a time, a run at a time and hope for the best in 2008 and try to accept whatever life deals me.

Happy Holidays!

Reuters, the news company I work for, asked me to write a personal account of my experience this year concerning my heart attack and my return to the living. This piece ran globally on Sunday.

The "witness" stories are usually reserved for some Reuters correspondent who has witnessed first hand a battle in a war zone, a devastating tornado or a hurricane.

When I now think back on my embarassing "crash" in August and all of the commotion I brought to friends, family and co-workers I must admit that the powers that be at Reuters were correct in determining that I was now officially baptized and was qualified to write a much revered witness piece.

All of you became an even more important part of my life this year, especially my 10 year running buddy Tanya aka "Bambi". If she would not have immediately gone into action the outcome may have been much different. I can just see a group of sweaty well-meaning runners standing over me murmuring "gosh he seemed like a pretty good guy and a good runner, so sad":)

Welp, I'm still kicking along and trying to get back into shape for the 2008 running season.

I hope to see you on the trail or on the sidelines cheering next year and most of all I hope you'll hold all of your friends and loved ones a little closer to your heart this holiday season, I sure will!

Sam

14:00 16Dec07 -WITNESS-Cheating the grim reaper: a heart attack survived

By Sam Nelson
CHICAGO, Dec 16 (Reuters) - The smile on her face was the first recollection I had of being alive, knowing something had happened and that whatever it was I had been at its centre.

She was one of the young runners I had been training with early that sunny Saturday morning. She always seemed able to laugh at anything, even death.

Humour may be an acquired trait of distance runners.

She told me I had suffered a heart attack. My heart had stopped, was shocked back into rhythm, and then stopped again in the hospital, and was shocked back into rhythm again.

Why me? A 63-year-old with six marathons under his belt? My running was great, but my heavy smoking habit wasn't. My heart attack took place on Aug. 4, 2007 on a lakeside trail in Chicago. I was incredibly lucky to survive it.

I was finishing an easy six-mile (9.5 km) run ahead of the Chicago Distance Classic, a half marathon the following weekend. I was having a good time, it was great to be alive and moving.

I remember a sudden rush of puzzling thoughts: "I'm getting sick? This isn't right. What did I eat last night? What did I eat this morning? I'm getting sick on such a short easy run? During speed training, maybe. Sometimes in the last mile of a race if I push it. But now?"

I told my running buddies I needed to veer off the path and be sick. "We'll wait for you," I heard Tanya say.

Those were the last words I remember. I'm told I fell flat on my face, didn't move a muscle or make a sound.

I had always imagined a heart attack as a painful struggle: tight chest muscles, shortness of breath, numbness in an arm, textbook warning signs. This one was quick and painless.


HELP AT HAND
Great luck -- or some would say miracles -- kicked in.

Tanya had been reading about CPR the previous evening. She began blowing oxygen into my lungs and compressing my chest 10, 20, 30 times between breaths to try to keep my broken heart muscle and stifled brain cells on life support.

My other running buddy Jill helped. A lifeguard who ran by also stopped and helped with CPR. Someone called an ambulance. Another runner, a nurse, couldn't find a pulse. But my life savers wouldn't give up. They kept up the exhausting CPR for 12 minutes before paramedics jolted my heart back into a rhythm.

So I was dead for 12 minutes. My heart stopped again on Saturday night, requiring a second round of electric shock to jump-start my life again.

People later asked me: you were dead -- what was it like? Did you see a white light? An angelic face? I remember only waking up, coming back to life, seeing familiar faces.

It feels eerie to think of how many solo runs I had been on since late winter, without potential life-saving buddies.

One of the arteries feeding blood and oxygen to my heart had been 100 percent blocked and another was 95 percent blocked. I had chain smoked for 40 years. Now I have stopped.

Cardiologists and other doctors could find nothing other than smoking, along with years of stress including long days and short nights, as the causes for the artery blockages.

Two days later a surgeon opened my chest and carried out a double by-pass, installing new arteries taken from my left leg.

My first hobbling steps from bed the next day were a dramatic shift from the 30 miles (48 km) I had run the previous week and from my busy days of running around and reporting on the frantic grain markets of the Chicago Board of Trade.

The surgeon told me just one percent of people who have a massive heart attack survive.

I went home six days after the heart attack. Seven weeks of rest and slow, steady physical therapy followed. I returned to work as a reporter at Reuters Chicago news bureau on Oct. 1.

Now I've resumed running, initially three days a week at an easy pace for 30 minutes on a treadmill, and have tested the trails outdoors on two "easy" three mile (4.8-km) runs. I'm really out of shape. But I have a lot of good people in my life to be grateful for and that keep me moving.

(To more Reuters Witness stories click on: http://www.reuters.com/news/globalcoverage/reutersWitnesses) (Editing by Peter Bohan, Frances Kerry and Sean Maguire) ((sam.nelson@reuters.com. +1 312 408 8720)) Keywords: WITNESS HEART/ATTACK
Sunday, 16 December 2007 14:00:24RTRS [nL14234978] {C}ENDS


















Christine StebbinsCorrespondentReuters (t) 312-408-8576 (m) 312-371-3980 (f) 312-983-7351 christine.stebbins@reuters.comReuters Messaging: christine.stebbins.reuters.com@reuters.netReuters news and information reaches one billion people every day. Get the latest news at Reuters.com
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Thanksgiving

I had much to be grateful and thankful for this Thanksgiving, especially my very life, which I admit I used to take for granted.

In my younger years I really couldn'g grasp the fact that I REALLY might get old someday and until this year I had never experienced the exciting event of dying of a heart attack and then being brought back to life by a couple of running friends, paramedics and then get my chest opened up and a couple of new arteries installed.

It's been an eventful year so far and Thanksgiving day I was glad to be able to eat a nice meal prepared by my son's girlfriend and enjoyed the company of my daughter, her hubby and two of my granddaughters. I won't be taking these special days for granted anymore.

My running was put on hold by my setback and I haven't been to good ol cardio rehab for two weeks because the blood pressure medicine the doctors put me on was dropping my blood pressure so low and keeping my heart rate so low that I came close to passing out at work. Therefore a panicky trip to ER, I was able to cab myself there this time, a couple days at Northwestern Hospital and a new medication regime. Recovering from a heart attack and open heart surgery is trickier than recovering from a tight hamstring or a pesky IT band problem. I'm floundering in unfamiliar waters right now and trying to stay brave and confess I have my moments of fear, and I don't like that one bit. Depression is apparently a part of recovery too and I don't like that feeling either....DUH!

I will get back to my cardio rehab girls tomorrow (Monday, November 26) and hopefully I can resume a little running on the treadmill this week.

I went to my "easy" yoga class Saturday and today (Sunday) went to my first pilates class since my infamous "event" in early August. Pilates is deceptively difficult and is a very effective core and total body strength workout and I was pleased to get through the hour of rather strenous activity. The "girly" leg work in pilates sets off a healthy burn in places in my hips and hip flexors that I never would get working out on my own. I put more pressure than usual on my chest and nothing fell apart but boy I've lost strength and endurance the past four months of recovery.

My favorite pilates instructor told me I still looked great. Naturally I thanked her and told her I hope to feel great ASAP. Suppose I'm in a hurry to get well and have to be grateful to be alive, be able to walk and talk and have an opportunity to someday run a bit.

I hope your holidays are going great and if not great at least I hope you can see a ray of light through whatever problem you're facing.

Life is short, run hard and often! But also take a break once in awhile, enjoy an easy run or stroll and soak up the current chilly breeze that is slipping through the Midwest.

20 And Counting

Twenty years ago this Halloween I drove through a rainstorm from Kansas City to Chicago to take a new job writing about the grain markets at the Chicago Board of Trade. Not too long after I began my new job the corn futures market soared it's daily trading limit higher because of pending drought in the Midwest Corn Belt. It's been non-stop for me ever since and I've never regretted moving here.

My current editor-in-charge for my present company, Reuters News, treated me to a 20th anniversary lunch on Friday and it gave each of us an opportunity to talk about our respective dreams about eventually working here and at the Board. When you're a commodities journalist, correspondent or editor and assigned to report and write about the grain markets, the CBOT is the place to be. I told KT, my chief editor, that when I was a little farm boy growing up in Kansas, I used to dream and wonder what it would be like to live and work in Chicago, on LaSalle Street and get in the middle of the frantic action in the grain trading pits at the Board.

Boy did my dream come true!

It's been 20 years of ups and downs in the markets and in my personal life. KT asked me what I was thinking when I was driving here for the transfer and I told him I was thinking "I wish it would quit raining so I could see where I was going." I also told him I felt great when I got here and I still like it here. I thought I might stay a couple years and move on but I'm still pounding out the news.

My work life and career blossomed when I got here and I'm a very lucky guy but since this blog was originally intended as a running blog I feel obligated to write at least a little about my running life.

When I transfered here 20 years ago if you would have told me that I would eventually start running, complete six marathons, about that many half marathons, eight or 10 10ks and more 5ks than I can count, have foot surgery, IT problems, SI joint sprain, go into full cardiac arrest and die for a few minutes, get revived, have double by-pass surgery and start planning another running career I would have told you to get counseling right away.

My anniversary week has been a good one and it was nice to get some recognition from my boss for my 20 years of writing about the CBOT grain futures markets. Fourteen of those years have been with Reuters News and I've never regretted making the move to Reuters. Call me silly or old fashioned but the mandate within my company and within me has always been "get it first but first get it right." Always a challenge but it adds length to a company's life and to a career.

KT offered a toast to "another 20 years" and I'm not ruling it out.

My workout week has gone equally as well. Three runs on the treadmill, half hour each run at nice easy 4.5 mph, 13 min pace and a nice light sweat and I felt great. I've been doing nothing but walking since my release from the hospital the second week of August and all of the experts including myself insisted on letting the breast bone completely fuse before running a step. I think I"ll be okay.

I also went on a long bike ride Saturday morning to see two of my pace group friends Tim and Seiko run a marathon at the Chicago 50-50. The ultra was originally set up as a 50k and 50 miler but they added a marathon for anyone who had a disappointing run at the Chicago Marathon on October 7.

It took me about 40 minutes to ride down to south shore to saw howdy to them and 40 minutes back into a darned chilly wind. It really felt good to get some air, exercise and I think Tim and Seiko were glad to see me because there weren't very many spectators. I also saw a running bud Tom from work who threw himself into his first ultra, the 50k. His response for entering "why not!" Guess the running bug has bitten him too.

I walked the 15 minutes to my gym early this morning, Sunday morning, intending to ride the exercise bike but elected to jump into my first yoga class since I went down in early August. I'm happy to report the chest held up fine, no soreness at all but boy I'm out of shape and this yoga class was a bit more aggressive than I planned but I was able to hang on for the one hour session.

Looking forward to picking up the pace a little this week and also have this new dream that I might be able to run the annual Turkey Trot 8k (5 miler) this Thanksgiving morning in Lincoln Park.

Lying in my drug-induced fog in the hospital in early August I not only thought my running was over but thought walking and my very life had ended. The first month of recovery, walking with a cane for balance, brought thoughts that maybe some day I'll be able to walk at a steady pace and perhaps jog a little. Everything started falling in place my second month of recovery and I could see that not only would I be able to walk okay but possibly next year begin running.

Now, at the end of my third month of reovery and my 20th year in the Windy City, I'm thinking I'll get in a nice easy five miles Thanksgiving Day and the jury is out on where I go next year.

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. I have a lot to be thankful and grateful for this year and the opportunity to run is some delicious giblet gravy on that big pile of mashed potatoes.

Half Hour Run

Okay, it wasn't fast and it wasn't very long, only 30 minutes on a treadmill but it was a run, my first run in something like three months, since the morning of August 4th. I remember that Saturday morning very well, five miles into a six mile run then kerboom, on my butt out like a light with my first and I hope last heart attack.

I showed up Monday evening for my prescribed cardio-rehab session at the gym down the street and my favorite cardio girl asked me "are you ready to run?" I could have cried, laughed, hugged her, jumped up and down screaming at the top of my lungs OH HELL YA!. But I quietly said "yes I am." And I confess that deep down inside there was a bit of fear that maybe I could not do it..

For around four weeks I had been walking the treadmill then striding on the eliptical trainer and waiting for the moment I could try a little run and it was a tiny one, but damn it felt good! I set out on a nice and easy 4-1/2 mile per hour pace, something like 13 min per mile and got this ol heart up to the low 130 beat per minute area and stayed there. I wanted to push a little more but I also want to ease back into this running biz and try to avoid doing something really stupid. Near the end of the 30 minute run my heart rate did climb up close to 140, so I FINALLY got in a workout, a good sweat to the point I toweled off a couple of times and soaked my gym shirt pretty well. Twas beautiful! And this from someone who used to despise treadmill work.

I even got an atta boy. "You runners are amazing, you did good," the beautiful cardio girl said. Of course I'm in love again. She had told me at my first cardio session they would have me up and running soon. She's just cool! Maybe she just told me runners are amazing to make sure I came back to rehab but I don't care, it worked, I'm going back for another session.

The five minute cool down was eventful too since instead of walking slowly on the treadmill I decided to walk around the track that circles the gym area including the cardio setup and didn't realize the heart rate monitor I was wearing didn't throw a signal to the monitors from the far side of the track, so I got scolded a little.

"Don't walk around the track because you flat-lined on the monitor and we thought we lost you," she said. However, she said it politely and with a smile and told me to just walk up and down the little straightaway so they can keep track of me and my healing heart.

So, as usual, I caused a little commotion but I apologized and won't do that again but I'm looking forward to my next run. It will be another easy one but it's a long way from flat on my back the first week of August with a fresh nine-inch incision through my breast bone. And I'm a long way from walking with a cane through much of August and early September.

Maybe there really is life after heart surgery?