A classic dumb crook story. A colleague of mine has a husband on a local police force. Recently there was a home invasion, and in the fray the perpetrator's ear was removed from his head, involunatrily I might add. The perp fled, and the officers surmised that he would show up at one of the local hospitals to stem the open wound in his head.
Sure enough, he showed up at one of them and "Officer Bill" as we'll call her husband escorted the severed ear to the hospital. The perp claimed he had been assaulted by a gang and they had cut off his ear. Officer Bill confronted him and asked "is this your ear?". "That's not my ear" the perp replied. A moment of silence ensued and Officer Bill stated that this is really odd, as the 'victim' was missing an ear and they just happened to find one at the scene of a crime. "That's not my ear" the 'victim' restated. "But", he continued; "that's my earring".
The officers paused and contemplated the unusual situation. Home invasion, perp gets his ear cutoff, shows up at a hospital missing an ear, officer shows him an ear, perp claims it was not his ear - but it was his earring.
Officer Bill then asked the obvious question - "if that is not your ear, but it is your earring, how did it get in this ear"? "I don't know" said the 'victim'. But then a flash of brilliance to remedy an awkward situtation the 'victim' came to a logical conclusion! "But", he said; "since I'm missing an ear and my earring is in that ear, can we put the ear onto my head where I'm missing one"?
I swear that I'm not making this up, and that I've relayed the events as accurately as possible without any of my tendency to exaggerate.
Thursday, September 06, 2007
Happy Birthday to Me!
Wow. Today I turned fifty years old. My life used to be about drugs, fast women and hot cars. Now, the drugs are prescription for seizures, the fast woman in my life is my wife who beat me to the finish in just about every race we have done, and I still miss my hot 1967 Camaro.My theme songs used to be "Born to be Wild" and "Life in the Fast Lane". Now, it feels like "I was born to be Mild" and people flash their lights at me to let them pass when I'm in the fast lane. I used to look like George Clooney, now I look like Andy Rooney.
In my high school yearbook there is a note from my sweetheart that alludes to all of the mushy stuff I wrote in her yearbook. I don't have a clue what I wrote! There is another comment from a girl who apparently had a crush on me (yes, that's been a theme throughout my life) gushing about the good times we shared and hoping we would keep in touch throughout the summer. I don't have a clue who she is!
The passing of time has been immortalized in fiction, non-fiction, art, music, poetry, songs, movies -even television commercials. Half my life has now passed (I'm planning on living to be exactly 100 years old). The summer of youth has faded and fall is upon me. As the leaves outside turn shades of gold, red and yellow they become a harbinger of the aging process that is now on my horizon. How old is 50? I'm just a few weeks younger than this thing that most of you probably don't know what it is or why it is so significant:
This is kind of amusing, immersing myself in melancholy meanderings in an attempt to engender your compassion and kind words. But lest you think the cold tentacles of old age are squeezing the life out of me, let me assure you that I've still got plenty of pep to go a few rounds with the Grim Reaper!
Rather than being depressed about this milestone I look at my life in wonderment. It's amazing who I've become, where I've been, what I've done - and what yet I want to do. My life has turned out to be nothing like I envisioned in my youth. When at last I become a lion in winter (hat tip to Winston) I'm sure that I will look at the second half of my life with this same kind of marvel.
Until then, I'll make a reference to my Rosebud (surely you have watched Citizen Kane, have you not?!?). Here's the teaser - the only two people who may even have an inkling of what my Rosebud is are my mom and sister. Ready mom and Jan? Think back to our days at Lake Shasta.
The object is round and plastic. That's it! That's all you get. If you guess my 
Rosebud, I'll take ou both to dinner at a fine eating establishment, one of my favorite Mexican food restaurants that has been a theme throughout my life. You will have to tender a guess as to which one I'm referring to.
Rosebud, I'll take ou both to dinner at a fine eating establishment, one of my favorite Mexican food restaurants that has been a theme throughout my life. You will have to tender a guess as to which one I'm referring to.
Wednesday, September 05, 2007
Hood to Coast 2007 - Packet Pickup
I'm back! In 2005, and 2006; I had seizures the morning of Hood to Coast. I can't believe that it was a coincidence and they somehow had to be connected to the race, but even after repeated challenges my neurologist said there is no connection. I'm back though, and ran Hood to Coast for I believe the 11th time. From the Hood to Coast official site we find that:
Yes, it's a big dog deal. 12 runners join in two vans, and then hand off to one other for 197 miles. Each runner runs three legs rated in different levels of difficulty based on elevation and length. The handoffs between runners in one van are called exchanges, and the handoffs between vans are called major exchanges. Exchanges are jammed with vans and runners as they manage the transitions as quickly and efficiently as possible.
But I'm getting ahead of myself! If your team makes it to registered status (the race is so popular that hundreds of teams get turned down every year) then packet pickup is the next step. Packet pickup quickly swells into long lines as hundreds of teams converge into the designated spot where they queue up to receive bibs, t-shirts and other necessities for the race.
I had a wedding to perform early afternoon the day of packet pickup, and felt that I had a good margin to pickup the packet, go home and change, and show up for the wedding on time. But, to not have any pressure I showed up at 8:00 AM to be first in line (hopefully) for the 9:00 AM start. As I entered the Tiger Woods building on the Nike Campus where packet pickup was to take place, there were already about 20 people ahead of me! Wow, these runners are competitive! As we milled around I noticed that many of them had on team gear from one of the more famous teams, the Headhunters. They began signing their names on a clipboard, and then it hit me - they were volunteers to help manage the logistics and check off and handout items to the various teams.
Soon I noticed that the doors to the room I was in had been closed and locked, sequestering us from the cavernous entrance to the Tiger Woods building. Hmmm - my little mind began to think - I'm just here to pick up my packet. Now I'm locked in the room where my packet is, and hundreds of people (literally, I'm not exaggerating) were queueing up to pick up their packets. I strategically took up a post at the door. Pretty soon this guy wandered over and I knew that my pretensions would quickly be found out, so I took the offensive:
So, now I'm not just hanging around - I am in charge of the door that I'm supposed to be on the other side of, milling with the herd! Sometimes I'm almost shamed by my Machiavellian tendencies. This was not one of them!
At the appointed time we got the word to open the doors. I motioned to Greg and Steve to get ready and follow my lead. I opened the door and a hush went through the cavern as I hollered "can I have your attention please". "This is how it's going to work - Greg will help you find your team number if you need it, and Steve will help keep the line moving. Don't rush, we'll get you in and out quickly. As you enter the room, the lowest number packets will be on your right, ascending in number as you look counter-clockwise. Packet number #500 is almost right in the center. Are there any questions?" There were none, and then being somewhat puffed up in pompousness I pumped the air with my fist and screamed "are you ready to run?" "YES" cheered the crowd. "Follow me" I said, and ushered the first 50 people into the room. I walked to my table, picked up my packet and walked out!
Later I recounted this story to the Hood to Coast office staff and they were laughing so hard they almost fell off of their chairs!
As the Largest Running Relay Race in the World, and The Mother of All Relays, The Hood To Coast Relay stretches 197 miles from the top of Oregon's majestic Mt. Hood down to the beautiful Pacific Ocean beaches in Seaside, Oregon. Over 12,000 runners and 4,800 walkers in The Portland To Coast, share in the experience of this annual event.
Yes, it's a big dog deal. 12 runners join in two vans, and then hand off to one other for 197 miles. Each runner runs three legs rated in different levels of difficulty based on elevation and length. The handoffs between runners in one van are called exchanges, and the handoffs between vans are called major exchanges. Exchanges are jammed with vans and runners as they manage the transitions as quickly and efficiently as possible.
But I'm getting ahead of myself! If your team makes it to registered status (the race is so popular that hundreds of teams get turned down every year) then packet pickup is the next step. Packet pickup quickly swells into long lines as hundreds of teams converge into the designated spot where they queue up to receive bibs, t-shirts and other necessities for the race.
I had a wedding to perform early afternoon the day of packet pickup, and felt that I had a good margin to pickup the packet, go home and change, and show up for the wedding on time. But, to not have any pressure I showed up at 8:00 AM to be first in line (hopefully) for the 9:00 AM start. As I entered the Tiger Woods building on the Nike Campus where packet pickup was to take place, there were already about 20 people ahead of me! Wow, these runners are competitive! As we milled around I noticed that many of them had on team gear from one of the more famous teams, the Headhunters. They began signing their names on a clipboard, and then it hit me - they were volunteers to help manage the logistics and check off and handout items to the various teams.
Soon I noticed that the doors to the room I was in had been closed and locked, sequestering us from the cavernous entrance to the Tiger Woods building. Hmmm - my little mind began to think - I'm just here to pick up my packet. Now I'm locked in the room where my packet is, and hundreds of people (literally, I'm not exaggerating) were queueing up to pick up their packets. I strategically took up a post at the door. Pretty soon this guy wandered over and I knew that my pretensions would quickly be found out, so I took the offensive:
"Hi, I'm Dave - what's your job here"? "Hi Dave, I'm Greg - my job is to help the team captains find their team number if they have forgotten by cross referencing the team name". "Great", I said, "why don't you stand to my left". A younger guy had wandered over and again I took the offensive - "Hi, I'm Dave - what's your job here"? "I'm Steve", he replied. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do, they just sent me over here to help". "Super", I replied - "your job will be to stand on my right and help control traffic. Keep people moving not too slow but not too fast, just a good steady pace so we can get them in and out". He nodded his affirmation.
So, now I'm not just hanging around - I am in charge of the door that I'm supposed to be on the other side of, milling with the herd! Sometimes I'm almost shamed by my Machiavellian tendencies. This was not one of them!
At the appointed time we got the word to open the doors. I motioned to Greg and Steve to get ready and follow my lead. I opened the door and a hush went through the cavern as I hollered "can I have your attention please". "This is how it's going to work - Greg will help you find your team number if you need it, and Steve will help keep the line moving. Don't rush, we'll get you in and out quickly. As you enter the room, the lowest number packets will be on your right, ascending in number as you look counter-clockwise. Packet number #500 is almost right in the center. Are there any questions?" There were none, and then being somewhat puffed up in pompousness I pumped the air with my fist and screamed "are you ready to run?" "YES" cheered the crowd. "Follow me" I said, and ushered the first 50 people into the room. I walked to my table, picked up my packet and walked out!
Later I recounted this story to the Hood to Coast office staff and they were laughing so hard they almost fell off of their chairs!
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