Mitral, aorta and bears, oh my.

On November 1, I wrote about some theories I have about my health.  I was having chest pains, and I just thought they were related to stress.  I experienced chest pains on and off for over a decade, so this time, I went to a cardiac specialist.

I initially had an EKG.  That was just a little off, but close to normal.  So then came the echocardiogram, then…  Well, in the end, I learned I have a dilated aorta (4.3 cm).  The physician says 4.0 is typical, and anything over 4.5 is a strong concern.  I also have a slight leak in the mitral valve.  Well, this explains some of the frustration I experienced recently.  This is all followed by a lengthy discussion of options.

The range of options is unbelievable.  Two key points, stress and never relaxing, along with the extra 80 pounds of fat, create issues on their own.   Of all the options suggested, I am taking one that was not the first option but the second.  That is to retest in 6 months after taking steps to enhance the health. These include:

·      Learn to relax—People know this is not possible for me. I have picked up some things using the foursquare technique, but it does not help.

·      Regular exercise: 5-6 days for at least 30 minutes each. I have been bad about getting about twice per week. I have worked 70-plus hour weeks, which is no excuse, but there is little time left for me to work out.

·      Correction of minor lipoprotein abnormalities, e.g., small LDL and lipoprotein(a).

·      Reduce carbohydrate intake by eliminating all wheat, cornstarch, and sugar products. This is an enormously effective way to correct small LDL, low HDL, and high triglycerides.  

·      Normalize the vitamin D to counteract the inflammatory responses in the aortic wall.  I should aim for a blood 25-hydroxy vitamin D level of 60-70 ng/ml.

·      Vitamin C supplementation--Collagen cross-linking for aortic wall strength requires adequate vitamin C.

·      Omega-3 fatty acids from fish oil-Fish oil corrects multiple causes of plaque, especially lipoproteins that derive from excessive triglycerides.

So, I have three days of 40 minutes on the bike now. This may seem like little, but this is huge since I have only found time once a week since July. I monitor the heart rate as an extra precaution. 

I still am not sure how to reduce the natural Type A habits.  I will surely learn, as they make it sound like life or death.  Oops…

Carry on, my friends, carry on! 

R.I.P. my hairy friend

My girlfriend called me yesterday while I was on a short vacation in Duluth. She informed me she had to make the decision to put Jackson, the best Golden Retriever I have ever known, down.  She needed to do it sooner than later.  Just like Annie before him, he was recently riddled with health issues in his old age (over 77 dog years).  For almost two months, his health diminished.  He had lost about 20 pounds and over 70% of his hair.  We had already been medicating him for a few months, as Shelley took him to the Vet yesterday (the day after Thanksgiving).  He was having trouble breathing and, at times, standing.

She was told she could medicate him and maybe receive a few months, but the quality of life was highly questionable. We've been in denial for a few weeks. This is not an easy decision, especially for her, as this is the best dog she ever had as a companion. 

Shelley had gained her new friend, Jackson, a very short time after her divorce, 11 years ago.  He was just over six months old when I met Shelley.  Those who know me know I tend not to allow myself to be close to dogs, as I know they should die well before me.  I know from my youth that people and dogs die, so I protect my heart.  I had a dog I loved as a child die, and I had six high school friends die between the ages of 14-19 years old.  Death is inevitable and painful unless you're the one who is dead.

Jackson was no ordinary dog.  He always looked at me with the highest admiration and sought my appreciation.  He really wanted to be my friend.  For years, I was reluctant to show my gratitude to him.  Then, after 5 years, he became my buddy.  The love and appreciation grew.  Over the past year, he was just as much my best pal as my girlfriend's pal.  So putting him down hurt, but nowhere near as much as it is for her.

When it came to attention, love and affection, and a steady flow of dropped food, Jackson knew that sticking by me was a win-win situation.  He greeted me every morning when I woke.  His old eyes just looked at me with affection.  He met me at the door each night when I came home from work.  We would go outside for a while, then inside to get a treat and a good scratch.   

When I was at my computer, he would lie down next to me and sometimes me his wet nose under my arm to seek affection, which I continuously gave with the highest appreciation for being a great pal!

When we went on a walk, he had a unique behavior. He would put his leash in his mouth so he did not bark. He always loved to eat grass! At times, I thought he was more like a cow than a dog. He was also a protector—well, kind of, as he barked hard at anyone he did not know but then immediately became mush if challenged.

You see, all dogs are different.  I know Jackson was exceptional.  Even the same breed would undoubtedly have distinct personalities, quirks, and abilities.  Annie, my girlfriend's older Golden Retriever, was not the same.  I never grew attached to Annie, as she did not care if I liked her.  But Jackson wanted to be my best friend.  He never gave up, and now I feel the pain of the loss of a dog.  One I never wanted to experience again after my first experience at a young age.  I will get through this, I know.

I worry about my girlfriend.  She is really struck with grief.  I typically minimize the grief from pet loss, although I have read quite a bit as my own father once had more grief from pet loss than I understood.  I once thought if I died, my father would have fewer issues than if the dog died.

When we returned from Duluth, my son tried to get my girlfriend to smile, and he succeeded. This was a blessing to her—more than he will know. He made a snow dog for the front yard as a memorial.

Making the dog

Scratching the ear

In the mid-1980s, I never understood the heartfelt pains of a pet's loss. In fact, I thought it was a worthless emotion. My father caused this by kicking me out of the house when I let the dog out, and he ran away. He cared more for that dog than his children or his wife.

In 1989, I read a report where grief expert Kenneth Doka wrote pet loss (like perinatal death and induced abortion) was "disenfranchised grief."  This means a griever's relationship with the deceased, and therefore, the griever's grief, is not sufficiently recognized by other people. Pets, unlike people, are not publicly mourned, which means that grievers don't get the social support they need to recover.

I also read that pets are suitable for people and good for couples.  A 1995 study of couples' day-to-day interactions found "…couples with dogs had greater well-being, and those with the highest attachment to their dogs — and who confide in them — fared the best. Interestingly, talking to dogs — in addition to one's spouse — was related to greater life satisfaction, marital satisfaction, and physical and emotional health. Confiding in pets to 'discuss' difficult life situations greatly relieved stress."

A 2002 study measured the cardiovascular changes of 120 married couples while they performed two stressful tasks: "5 minutes of rapid serial subtraction by steps of three from a four-digit number" and a 2-minute hand bath in ice water. The study found that participants had lower heart rates and blood pressure when performing these tasks in front of their pets than in front of their spouses.

Pets, the authors suggest, offer unconditional support under duress, with no judgments. "While the idea of a pet as social support may appear to some as a peculiar notion, our participants' responses to stress combined with their descriptions of the meaning of pets in their lives suggest to us that social support can indeed cross species."

Digging into this research has helped me understand the value of having a dog and more fully appreciate the bond I had — and apparently still have — with the one I lost.

One question remains: How long do you wait after one dog dies before doing it again? Or is it better not to do it again? We can now leave for days, but who cares? We can go on a whim and not worry about dog care. There are benefits both ways.

I often wonder, for others, if you get the same kind of dog, is it comforting to have a similar set of dog traits in your life once again, or instead, just unfortunate?  I do not know, but I do know one thing.  I never wanted to become so attached to a dog as the loss, I know all too well, hurts.  Jackson was special.  Very, Very special.  He pulled me in and had affection for me.  He was happy to see me each day.  I will miss him very, very much.

RIP my friend, RIP!  You and Annie have a good ole time!

Christmas List

If you have read this blog, you may have come across my typical late November post about what I want for Christmas.  I would list several things, and typically, I would get one or two each year.  Then, one week before Christmas, I would edit the post and remove the items.  Some think that is mean, others never knew it was there, while some think I should just tell them what I want.  But what about gifts at Christmas?

It is easier to imagine celebrating Christmas in the modern world if you think about giving gifts. But, have you ever thought to yourself, “Why do we give gifts at Christmas?” In some ways, the tradition of giving gifts at Christmas is very ancient. In other ways, giving gifts at Christmas is a relatively new development.

In the Christian religion, the practice of giving gifts at Christmas is traced back to the gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh that were given to the Christ child by the three Magi. The magi were kings from the East, wise men who traveled a great distance following a star to find Christ's child and bring him gifts. The visit of the Magi to the Christ child was initially celebrated on the Feast of Epiphany on January 6th.

Over time, giving gifts became more associated with Christmas than with Epiphany. In the Church calendar, the period from Christmas to Epiphany—from December 25th through January 6th—is recognized as the “twelve days of Christmas” from the old Christmas carol.

Indeed, the ancient Church did not “celebrate” Christmas as much as it “observed” Christmas as a holy day. It wasn’t until the modern era that giving gifts to loved ones at Christmas became increasingly popular as the Middle Ages ended and the modern era began. Various countries and peoples began to make gift-giving a regular part of the holy day (or “holiday”) over some time. By the time the Americas were settled, giving gifts at Christmas was practiced by many of the settlers. The early Dutch settlers to America introduced St. Nicholas, or Santa Claus, to the new world. In contrast, the early French and English settlers were more likely to give gifts at New Year’s or Epiphany.

Ultimately, a shared Christmas culture developed in which gifts were given on Christmas. In the nineteenth century, gift-giving took on new dimensions, as the works of O. Henry, Charles Dickens, and Thomas Nast helped shape our concepts of Santa Claus and other aspects of the holiday.

Today, we all give gifts at Christmas for our own reasons. For some, it is a way to celebrate the Christian holy day. For others, it is a special time to let family and friends know you care by giving gifts. At times, giving gifts at Christmas becomes almost mechanical and a chore; when this happens, it is worth stepping aside for a few moments to consider why you give gifts at Christmas.

So what good is it to tell someone what you want for Christmas? I believe Christmas is not about gifts but sharing human love and friendship. I recently went to visit my father, and when I left to return home, I told my sister that if he dies tomorrow, at least I know he will die happy. Giving another human happiness is much more than any gift you can purchase, and it is not easy.

Each year, I become more troubled about this tradition.  This year, I need something on my Christmas list you can purchase.  Here is what I want:

• My father to find peace with all the things he regrets
• Addie Grey to find happiness and stability
• Get back on track emotionally and physically
• After having two children, my niece finds a promising future and then has a worthless father.
• My Girlfriend’s daughter to be safe as she prepared for her first child
• For people to smile and help a neighbor shovel the driveway 

You get the drift.  Be kind to all you meet and yourself.

Carry on, my friends, carry on…

When enough is enough

Once upon a time, I was healthy. There was a time when I lacked the energy to get through the day when sleep came easy, and I was always well-rested. Sadness was never in my soul. That was replaced with a time when everyone was being told, with all the commercials touting energy drinks for America’s tired masses, that I was happy I was not the one suffering. Now I am!

That was a time when I never dreaded the coming cold and flu season.  This was a time when it appeared everyone but me developed some degree of germophobia.  But then came the two six letter words into my life.  Once they enter you soul, it is hard to stop.  One is that wonderful white substance that once you have it, it is hard not to crave more!  The other is moving up in a career and complexities in life create emotions that impact the body greatly.  If you have not guessed, it is SUGARS and STRESS.

Looking back at my life and diet when I ran a little over three hour marathons, I was never tired and never was ill.  I was trying to compare that era to now. 

My job was simple, come in, do a task, go home.  It was a job that you could never be behind and carry the work home.  I never had to monitor people or have a job that was at risk.  I had little overall responsibility for anything but myself.   I ate very little, if any processed sugar.  In fact, I never had a craving.

I came to this conclusion I have been denying when I, for the hundredth time, hear some disturbing new information about the effects of sugar. Several experts have scientific evidence that sugar is the thing that is making so many Americans fat and sick. The more I thought about it the more this makes sense to me — a lot of sense. One in seven Americans has metabolic syndrome.  I recently learned that a metabolic syndrome drastically impacts sleep as well.  Those who know me know I have major sleep issues.  On top of this, one in three Americans is obese. The rate of diabetes is skyrocketing and cardiovascular disease is America’s number one killer.

According to many theories, all of these maladies and more can be traced back to one large toxic presence in our diet… sugar.

So today is my quest to no longer eat foods that contain added sugar.  Yep, it will be hard but I want to cut out anything with an added sweetener, be it table sugar, honey, molasses, maple syrup, agave or fruit juice.  I will exclude anything made with fake sugar or sugar alcohols. Unless the sweetness was attached to its original source (e.g., a piece of fruit), I will avoid it, and this will be difficult.

I mean we find sugar in the most amazing places: tortillas, sausages, chicken broth, salad dressing, cold cuts, crackers, mayonnaise, bacon, bread, and even baby food. I ask, “Why add all of this sugar”?  I read it is to make these items more palatable, add shelf life, and make packaged food production ever cheaper.  Again, whatever the wealthy greed needs to increase the investment income.

Call me crazy, but I see the benefits avoiding added sugar for a year have done for my girlfriend.  She went from not being able to run to doing biathlons.  Before she went sugarless, that struck me as a grand adventure for her.

So I am going to try.  No, I am going to rid my body of processed sugar and unnecessary salts.  I know how hard it will be, what interesting things could happen, how my cooking and shopping could change. After continuing my research, I was convinced removing sugar would make me healthier. For my girlfriend, not eating sugar makes her feel better in a real and tangible way.  I want what she has and no diet or pill will get it for me.  I believe the devil is in the sugar.  I am willing to try.  Although, I am told that it will take up to six month to feel the real benefits.

I anticipate the longer I go without sugar, the better and more energetic I should feel.  I will eventually surrender to the sugar craves, but I have a goal of understanding and not falling way off the wagon.  So I have a rule, more than an allowance to rid of guilt when I have sugar.  I could have one actual sugar-containing dessert per month. I expect with a few months, I will notice my palate to change, and slowly, I will enjoy the monthly “treat” less and less.

I recall when I was primarily sugar free and I was given my favorite pie, COCONUT CREAM PIE.  I recalled when I ate the decadent multi-layered coconut cream, I recall not only did I not enjoy my slice of pie as much as when I regularly indulged in sugar; I would not even finish it.  Right now in my life, I not only finish it, but I crave the whole damb pie and may even eat a second if it was in the house.  My girlfriend tells me how eating heavy sugar actually makes her teeth hurt her head would begin to pound.  Her heart would begin to race and she felt awful.  She tells me “I know now it was sugar that always made me feel bad, but because it was everywhere, I just never noticed it before?”

I think I will try to rid me of one of the six letter words I gained.  I expect my body will be thanking me for it. If my guess is right, I won’t worry about running out of energy. And when flu season comes around I will no longer feel the urge to go and hide under the bed.  I think I will feel less depressed.  I will get sick less and get well faster. If my guess is right, this will be nothing to sneeze at when everyone. 

I have been reading the book Salt Sugar and Fat.  I have come to realize I am the person to blame for my health, but food processing companied sure does not make it easy.  It is all part of the stock owners greed to take whatever steps you can to make them more money.  For that, they need to make me want is more.  It is a mind-altering drug and it is legal. 

Wish me well my friends. 

Carry on my friends, carry on…

Peroneal Tendinitis

I have experienced ankle pain since July.  It evolved into a pain that made it difficult to walk at times.  I felt a little sore after the Colorado to Minnesota bicycle ride and followed those three weeks later with Grandmas Marathon.  After Grandma's Marathon, I felt fine for a few weeks, but it progressively became painful.  I should have expected a few issues but waited three months to visit the physician.

The Orthopedic surgeon viewed several X-rays and determined I had severe Peroneal Tendinitis. He recommended physical therapy. The physical therapist said I was very tight. The range is typically Plantar extension, which is 40 degrees, and I am at 18. The average Dorsal extension is 20 degrees, and I have 4 degrees. I have solid inversion with 32 degrees, where 30 is good, but the radial is 6 degrees, where 20 degrees is ideal. Therapy is done with hard exercise to get full mobility and reduce pain.

After three sessions, I feel better, but it still hurts.  I began to understand the importance of maintaining muscle elasticity for the whole body.  I have placed my stretching routine on the back burner.  I forgot there are multiple reasons to increase muscular elasticity or flexibility. Improvements in range of motion and athletic capability, stress reduction, and better sleep are all benefits of a regular stretching routine.  This makes sense as I evaluate my past; sleep has been impacted for years.  I will start a full-body stretch routine every other day and see the impact on sleep.

I understand that to improve muscle elasticity, I will focus on improving my flexibility and range of motion through regular flexibility-training exercises. A muscle's elasticity refers to its ability to stretch into a particular shape. I fully understand that as the human body ages, it loses some of its natural muscular elasticity, making flexibility training a good addition to your exercise routine at any age. How stupid to forget!

So onward, I go looking funny in these moves made for the ultra-slim individual. I feel like a weeble for those old enough to know what I mean. 

Any suggestions for a routine?

Carry on, my friends, carry on…

Another Month, another life taken…

I spent most of the morning crying for someone I had only briefly known.  A young man of 16 decided life was not worth continuing and ended his life.  That makes 8 people I knew personally this year, and then there are the four I knew of but had no personal connection with who took their lives as well.

I will never understand, but at times, I wonder if I do. I have that innate ability not to quit, so I see things and approach difficult times differently. I always understand that life is what we make of it. 

I often have a co-worker who is ill and will usually complain about how much he does not enjoy his work.  He feels underappreciated and just wants to quit his job.  He said he wished he enjoyed his work half as much as I did.  He was shocked when I said I HATE my job for the past 6 months.  I despise getting up and coming to work, as it is a heavy burden with little satisfaction.  He said no one would ever know that, as I am always joyful and productive.

I explained that life is what we make of it. I explained that during many of the marathons and longer races I finished, I hated running. Riding my bicycle from Denver, Colorado, to Minneapolis, Minnesota, there were several times I hated biking. But just like life, there are ups and downs, and what shapes us is how we use attitude to get through the lows. There is joy in getting through the hell we often find before us daily.

I am at an all-time low right now.  I'm unsure anyone could tell because I know I was not put on the earth to quit and smile as I work through the lows.  It is a shame so many acquaintances have found it easier to quit.  I will never understand, and for that, I am blessed.  May you never quit and use a positive attitude to enjoy the life you have before you.

Carry on, my friends, Carry on…

52 and counting

No, this is not my 52nd marathon, my 52nd day of dieting, etc. No, I turned 52 years old. As a social experiment, I have not been on Facebook since June. Before I left the world of social media, I purposely made my birthday invisible. Last year, I had over 100 Happy Birthday wishes; this year, three… What does that mean? Nothing, but it shows that without social media, how many birthday wishes would you get?

I have something to admit…I’m not good at accepting gifts from people. I always have this awkward feeling and try to refute the gift or reduce what someone would like to give me. It may at first seem like this is really noble of me, and I think it was trying to be, but it’s not. In fact, I’m really just putting myself ahead of others.

As a teenager, I thought I didn’t want to get so excited about getting presents from people on my birthday or Christmas. This was partly to save me from any potential disappointment (yet plain black socks…again) but also because I thought that it was good to not be obsessed with “things” and presents embodied “things” to me. So there was only one option, be pessimistic, put on a dower face, and not get that excited over what was happening but instead enjoy the people around me more.

Now is that humble! I got over that whole wanting stuff thing, haven’t I…oh wait. Actually no. In many ways, I was more obsessed with things than ever before…it was just that I had the power to buy them for myself! On top of that, I was looking at things legally and not acting out of love.

When I got a present, I didn’t think about the other person at all. I just focused on how I felt and making sure that I was right. I didn’t think about the effort the other person might take in choosing a gift or anything else. This wasn’t limited to birthdays but to any gift that people wanted to give me. Every time, the same dance would occur: “Oh, you shouldn’t have…I can’t accept that, etc.”

It was all a power battle, and I was more proud than ever before. I never considered how it might be nice for someone else to give me a gift and for it to be received gratefully.

So why am I talking about receiving gifts? Well, this weekend was my 52nd birthday. For most of human history, to be old is a mark of honor. Today, it is a source of fear. Fear of losing health. Fear of losing the active lifestyle that made me happy. Fear of being poor in the retirement years. I remember when 52 seemed ancient – and now I can’t believe that I am past 50 and relentlessly getting older. I once was a fanatic about what I eat and how much I exercise daily. I would run five to six days a week, work out with weights, do resistance training a few days a week, and do core training once a week. I would go for regular semi-annual medical check-ups to monitor all the signs of health (or lack thereof).

I often let myself pig out and eat whatever I feel like eating. I eat out of stress, which usually means a lot of junk food. I am doing whatever I can to fight the relentless march of time. But the stress of life has changed me!


In celebration of my aging quickly, Shelley made me dinner and took me to a play. We went home afterward and enjoyed carrot cake. We called it a night, and I woke early to work on the backlog of items they call a job on that duty. Why am I still trying to figure out how to do my best in my profession and let myself go? I often wonder if I could do what others can for easy pay and little stress. But that is like stealing. They leisurely work through the day, reporting for work at 8:00 AM and taking 30 minutes to get ready for work and at 4:10 PM, get everything set so I can bolt out the door at 4:30 without any care.

Anyway, today, I got another gift. It was a book. I am not a fiction reader, and finding books that interest me is complicated. It was an unexpected gift. A welcomed gift. For once, I did not feel like “you shouldn’t have” or gees’, thanks so much. This was an excellent feeling. For some reason, it was a personal and caring thought that left me happy and speechless. That did not happen to me, but it was a welcomed feeling.

Oh, the book, it was “What If: Serious Scientific Answers to Absurd Hypothetical Questions,” and it is a book I will be able to read over and over as it is just not a dead read, but a book that makes me think deeply, very deep.

Carry on, my friends, carry on!

Busy, lost and confused

Been working 65 to 70-hour weeks for over three months now.  I looked back and have only had 8 of the last 90 days off from work, including Saturdays and Sundays.  So little bike riding or taking care of myself.

Although my hands are about 80 percent back to normal from the long ride in May.  I need to get some time for myself.  While I am not sick of life, I really feel I have lost my life all for the sake of a job that no one could care about my efforts.  I wonder if this is what goes through the minds of the dozen people I know who took their own lives in the past few years?

I saw the video below posted, and I watched it—not once, not twice, but six straight times. It was really impacting, at least to me. We are filled with greed and what is in it for society. That needs to change!!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=itvnQ2QB4yc

All I know is that shortness of breath and chest tightness are regular daily issues caused by the stress of life and work. I really do not see an end to this, but there has to be... Somewhere out there... The sky is blue?

Carry on my friends....

More and the MoJo is missing

The world was my oyster. I was full of energy. I didn’t have excessive responsibilities. My mojo cup was filling up. 

How’s my cup looking now? I am older, promoted at work, and survived three major lawsuits, and I feel the effects of mojo depletion. I am overweight, tired, milky, and my days are cut way too short of free time. I looked like a plump squirrel, and I felt that life, as I had known it, disappeared with my 38-inch waist. My mojo was no mo’. I recently had my 9th known person commit suicide this year alone. WOW, WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON! 

The word “mojo” derives from an African language and relates to magic and spells to generate luck and power. In today’s language, the word still refers to a source of vigor, energy, sexual potency, and power. An entire Austin Powers movie was devoted to his lost mojo and his desperate search to find it. He ultimately discovers his mojo is within and has had access to it all along. Groovy baby! I feel depleted, overwhelmed, stressed out, frumpy, tired, bored, or lethargic, which means I have lost my mojo. 

It is tough to find the motivation to reclaim a lost mojo. But I can’t remain in this mojo-less place for too long, or my lost mojo might mushroom into a full-blown depression. I know that making small life changes can release the magic of mojo so that I can feel more energy and enthusiasm about myself and all that this beautiful world has to offer. Here are some things I know I need to do, but I keep delaying!

I need to address Stress. I feel overwhelmed and stressed, and I need to lighten the load and address the source of the Stress before I do anything else. The way it is, I have chest discomfort and difficulty breathing several times a day. Family or friends make too many demands on my time; I need to pinpoint the reason and take action. I know very few things in life are worth the physical and emotional toll of chronic Stress, yet it has been going on for a full year now! 

I need to remember “What Fun Is”. Fun is way underrated but an essential element of a strong mojo. As I write this, I have a pen and paper and try to jot down the times I had fun. I am going blank. That is sad! 

I need to get Physical and take An Electronic Sabbatical. It’s so easy to plop in front of the television or computer when I am feeling low on mojo. Once I am in that chair, it is so hard to get back up. I need to read something inspirational or motivating. No more sitting and zoning out. 

Overall, my mojo is late, and I should immediately start. I must take action to get my groove back, but after a few months, I am still feeling lethargic, tired, or in the dumps. I am contemplating seeing a doctor. There are various physical and emotional reasons for losing the mojo, and it might be something as simple as low iron or poor sleeping habits.

In the end, I need to take action and reclaim my magic.

Carry on, my Friends, Carry On!

#6... Hope the count stops soon!

I can't believe it!  Robin Williams, the happiest and funniest man of my childhood, someone I admired and enjoyed watching in all his work, supposedly found it easier not to grow old.  Why?  Just like my previous post, we will never know.

Then, I see the other side of the spectrum.  When riding my bicycle to work, I often see an elderly man walking.  He must be in his 90's.  He walks at what I consider a quick pace for his age, but he moves about 3 inches a step.  He looks happy each time I go past him in the early morning. That is all he has left to feel good about, and he enjoys the walk. 

I get more confused.

I also noted another generational issue recently.  My generation would take pride in being aware of other people's time.  I notice now that people in their 20s just live the moment more and more without regard to what was planned or what is tomorrow.  It seems odd that they do not have any issues making others wait and cancel plans as they are enjoying their moment in time.  Just seems so selfish.  But it could be I am just becoming that grumpy old man no one enjoys. There is little respect left in the world.

There's been a fundamental change in adult life. Teachers, pediatricians, and therapists are seeing children of all ages who are not afraid of their parents—not one bit—not of their power, not of their position, not of their ability to apply standards and enforce consequences.

These days, that look seems to have been replaced by a feeble nod of parental acquiescence and an earnest acknowledgment of "how hard it is to be a kid these days." I have seen children call their parents names and tell them how stupid they are, and I have heard adolescents use strings of expletives toward them. 

I have concluded that not only are the kids unafraid of their parents, but parents are also afraid of their kids! Whatever happened to the phrases our parents relied on to put us in our place? "Keep your shirt on." "On the double." "What do you think we are, made of money?" "Because I said so." "If you want sympathy, look it up in the dictionary," or  "Don't bother me unless you're bleeding." Parents once commanded respect.

Today's generation of children is our history's most closely observed, monitored, cherished, and scheduled. They are also the most praised. Families are smaller, and there are fewer children upon whom parents can beam their attention.  Many parents don't expect their children to contribute much around the house, but they expect them to achieve outside the home.

Could it be that this is the answer I am looking for? We never get to be kids, so we do not want to become older adults? Could it be that someone stole their childhood, so they stole their adulthood?

Carry OnMy Friends, Carry On…  

I don't understand!

In the past six months, I know of five men over 50 (two I knew well) who passed away.  All were suspected to have committed suicide.  It is even more alarming when they all had great jobs, successful children, and did not seem to have much in life to be concerned about.  Yet they decided that they had enough.  We will never know what enough entails.  I tried searching for an explanation but only became more confused.

Suicide is the eighth leading cause of death in the United States, resulting in over 30,000 deaths per year recorded. This is clearly an underestimate of the true figure since many suicides are not recorded as such because of social stigma, financial considerations, and other factors. For as long as statistics about suicide have been collected in the United States, there has been a very consistently strong association between suicide and 3 factors: age, gender, and race. Though women have many more suicide attempts than men, per attempt, a man is 4 times more likely to die than a woman.  What is even more alarming is white males accounted for 73% of all suicides in the US in 1996.  Overall, the United States suicide rate is overwhelmingly white, male, and older than age of 50.

There is a well-established strong association between depression and suicide. So I wonder, should I have seen the signs?  I noted amongst them all that they worked hard, and work was their life.  They may have lost touch with reality and become depressed; I just do not understand.  I only wish I could have seen this coming and intervened.

I had a wrong thought. Those who followed the rules and did well seemed in the worst emotional shape. These folks believed that if they always did the right thing, the responsible thing, nothing bad would ever happen to them.

I wonder if someone like me, who's weathered economic extremes for decades, weathered a divorce, had major issues with most imaginable situations, and had great friends die when I was in my teens, 20s, 30s, 40s, and now 50s, had any advantage.  I wonder if I am better emotionally prepared for the arbitrary turns of life's wheel. I already know how to be poor and get by, to be alone and survive, to have a child despise you and live, to see death and live.  Most of my friends didn't.

So why are baby boomers somehow inherently suicidal? They're just so self-centered and childish; of course, they throw the ultimate tantrum when they can't get their own way?  Or not. Maybe they're just human beings whose lives have been ruined by the lawless actions of the Wall Street elite, enabled by the austerity fever dreams of the media elite.  Politicians are worried about gun control and birth control rather than providing proper mental health training.  I may be so far off, but after the fifth assumed suicide, and that being a close friend, I just look for answers, and that may be an impossible quest for answers.

Carry on, my friends...  Carry on...

A little better?

It has been over two weeks since I last looked at Facebook.  I have only looked at personal e-mails two or three times. I have discovered that the world has not changed. I am unsure when or if I will look at Facebook again or clean out the e-mail box, but there is no hurry.

I did get about 140 miles biking last week. I took a few rides to work and then Toured the Saints 50 miles with Shelley on Sunday. It was very difficult, with winds that were 15+ miles per hour, and they seemed to change based on the direction we traveled. Shelley still did a PR of 3:20 for the 50 miles.

I replaced several bike parts before the ride.  Replaced the rear sprocket, replaced broken spokes, new rear sprocket, removed the 28 rear / 25 front mm tires used on the Denver to Minneapolis trip back to the 25 rear / 23 front mm.  The 28 mm tire was hard to get off the bike.  I also replaced a shifter cable and adjusted the front derailleur, which was having issues.  I am glad I took the bike mechanics course to do the work myself. I save $300 doing the work myself.

How I feel when I run...

I have not taken pictures lately because I have been busy at work. I had to send my D600 in for repair. There was a recall for sensor spots, which I started to notice the last time I used the camera. I shipped it out on July 5, which was returned today (June 21). I will test it out this weekend.

I struggle with the emotional letdown after the bike ride and finishing my 30^th consecutive Grandma’s marathon.  I need a goal and objective, something to strive for, or I get lost.  I am concerned my body will not allow this as I have aged.  It is not as easy to recover.  I find work stress at an all-time high is also taking its toll.  We are short-staffed staffed, and I have worked at least a 55-hour week for quite some time and have logged as much as 70 hours.  I usually get to work by 6 AM and leave about 6 PM while eating lunch.  I think I need to get perspective.

On a positive note, I actually enjoyed a few 2-mile runs. That was a huge surprise, as I have found no enjoyment in a run for the past years. I will try this again a few times and sincerely hope for a turnaround. Either way, I must keep going head-on; that is all I know I can do.

Carry on my friends…