If someone were to rifle through my stuff at the end of my life, or some other point in my life, you'd discover a picture of me, and then Senator, and future Vice President, Joseph R. Biden.
Did I meet Joe? Yes. Are we buds? Hardly. But that represents a major turning point in my life. Namely, when I looked behind the curtain and learned there was as much bullshit in politics as there is in High School.
The first time I "met" Joe Biden was outside St. Joseph's on the Brandywine Church. I was about 12 years old. My father made me be an alter boy for my entire childhood, and through high school. After Mass, I came from the back of the church after getting out of my alter boy's robes and my father was talking to some gray-haired balding guy surrounded by church people. My main thought was how quickly we could leave.
My Dad had a pose for uncomfortable social situations. He sort of hunched his shoulders and rubbed his hands together. This sounds sinister, but it looks like shyness, not plotting to kill James Bond. He had this pose at the time.
Upon approaching my father, he introduced me to Senator Biden. They went to high school together and knew each other. he Senator put his arm around me. I've never been touched by a priest or anything, but this was rather uncomfortable for me. At that point I noticed Joe's daughter, who looked like a prettier mirror image reflection of my discomfort, possibly MORE embarrassed because I can only assume she had to deal with this rather often. After a few minutes of talking about Archmere (the prep school our two very different families both attended- fathers and sons/daughter) Joe moved on to people who would ACTUALLY vote for him. (Dad is a lifelong Republican. Barry Goldwater type. Regan was too liberal for him.)
Through my time in High School, my father played golf with the Senator on random occasions maybe two or three times. Maybe only once, who knows. HE tells a boring story where he claims to have stumped the Senator. I've never seen Biden at a loss for words, so I sort of doubt this tale.
But that chance connection, which ended with my Dad, was profitable for me. (His daughter, Ashley, and I were never friends. Different circles two years apart, which is a lifetime in high school. Sort of doubt if she knew of my existence and the thought did not bother me. I had plenty of other girls I wished would think about me, but probably never did.)
I studied politics and international relations in college. I was SURE I'd change the world and be awesome. So my father, perhaps under the same delusion as me, called a friend who worked for Biden, I wrote an application letter, and next thing you know, Mr. Anderson went to Washington to intern for the Senate Foreign Relations Committee.
I did some interesting work researching topics and putting together binders for committee hearings. The most interesting was preparing the briefing binder for the confirmation hearings of Ambassador Richard Hollbrooke as ambassador to the U.N. Bored yet?
What did I really learn in DC? Senator Strom Thurman was a creepy old man who got lost in the Dirksen Senate office building. (or was it Rayburn? I forget.) He had clandestinely groped a female intern's breast while taking a picture with her. You know, arm around her, hand on sideboob, "accidental". Ted Kennedy's office smelled like whiskey. In 1999. I think he was allegedly sober at that point. He also yelled a lot.
Everything was a dog and pony show.
Senators and Congressmen made speeches to empty halls for CSPAN. Well meaning citizens with good causes who wore cheap suits were herded towards interns and staff assistants who threw out notes after their "meetings". Defense contractors, well funded organizations met with senior staffers over lunch at expensive restaurants. Interns were used to prepare detailed and personalized responses. Their meeting notes often were used to strat research projects. And these were Democrats, progressives. Republicans dismissed the poor suit meetings out of hand.
But there were two other Joe Biden interactions I wanted to share. First, my exit meeting, where I got that photo-op. I explained I was on my way to Germany a week later to study abroad for a year. I was a double major in German and had extensively studied the fall of the Soviet Block. However, Joe decided he need to regale me with a lecture of Eastern Germany. He was half right, half wrong. But it was clear his mindframe seemed to be: talk first, think second. So the media has sort of nailed that about him...
The next instance was the summer picnic at his house in Delaware. He opened his home and had a BBQ for the whole staff. He talked to everyone. He and I talked cars. He had an old Corvette, I think a 1967. My Dad had a 1970 Porsche 911T. In talking about his car, his family and the openness he had with his staff, I realized: this guy believes in it. He gave a shit. Sure he was arrogant, too talkative, and probably out of touch but he BELIEVED it.
Joe was good friends with Jesse Helms and Strom Thurman. He bought into DC. From one summer there I didn't. As I write this 4 years into JAG Corps life, I still don't and I doubt I will. Sailors (and Soldiers, Airmen and Marines) love their country. Politicians love themselves, no matter how much they believe they're doing the right thing.
Friday, February 10, 2012
Thursday, February 2, 2012
My Dad is almost 70, and I've done some crazy ass shit in my life.
What do the two things in the title have to do with one another? Seemingly nothing but a thought began festering in the recesses of my mind a few weeks back when I was yet a again hunting pugs, and nearly trampled to death by a herd of cattle. I started wondering if my own son would ever want to hear about the weird shit I've done in my time. How crazy my life in Berlin was, the near disastrous predicaments I managed to survive, or any of the funny little stories that kids never hear about my their parents.
An uncle’s illness reminded me yet again of the vulnerability of my own father. That coming up to 70 years old, his time may be limited with me. While that is extremely distressing since in the past decade my Dad and I have crossed into that great parental stage of being friends with your offspring, we seem to have limited time left, and increasing obligations on my part.
Which get me to thinking: one day Charlie may wonder: Dad was 30 when I was born. His whole teens and twenties are a mystery. Who was Matt before he was "Dad"? I am hoping that in the coming years, I can explore more of that part of my own father.
But what of Charlie?
Well, as you can plainly read, running blogs are boring. Who gives a flying fuck if I had to shit bad for the last mile of a run? My time sucked in the San Antonio Marathon, so who cares?
But I decided I would keep this blog for a while. I will fill it with funny, weird, and wacky recollections from my short, but honestly amazingly fun time on this planet. Some of this may have to wait until Charlie is a mature adult who has settled himself in life. Some he can hear as a child. But when I am facing the pearly gates at hopefully a very ripe old age, I don't want Charlie to ask: who WAS my father? I want my son to know where he came from, dumb ass mistakes, adventurous risks, drunken escapades and errors in judgment. Hell there are a few meals I may need to discuss since I can still recall that amazing taste or smell YEARS later.
If you are reading this, years from now Charlie, don't fret about one thing I know you don't want to know. There will be no recollection of torrid love affairs, or sexual escapades. No son wants to know about that side of his father. Gross. Needless to say, your mother was the best of all, and the best decision I ever made.
So I will start this with a very brief yarn. On my second trip hunting, ever, I lined up my shot on a herd of pigs at the bottom of a hill. At the top of said hill was a herd of cattle. The ranch owner let us hunt the ranch to reduce the feral hog population. She obviously did not want us to shoot the cattle. I lined up my shot, fired my rifle, and hit a pig. Unfortunately, it still lived and I need to fire again for a kill shot. Once done, me and my hunting partner and went to collect the pig and cut it up for tasty lean pork. It ended up on the other side of a barbed wire fence. Walking across the field to collect it, I suddenly heard what sounded like thunder. It was not thunder.
No. It was a herd of cattle, running at full speed down a hill, nostrils flaring, straight towards me. My hunting buddy was on the other side of the barbed wire fence, so considerably safer. Nothing stood between me and perhaps the most redneck death one could imagine. As luck has it, I was blessed as a fast runner, and used that talent to high-tale it to the fence, toss my rifle underneath the fence to the other side, and slide under the barbed wire without stopping (a harder feat than it may seem). The stampede continued unabated. So I shouted to my hunting buddy, who had a pistol, to shoot warning shots in the air. That did stop the cows.
But they stayed just on the other side of the fence. Watching yours truly. One even started bucking and jumping and shaking his head at me. The random horse in the herd whinnied and shook its mane. But I lived. And so, I escaped perhaps the lamest death that one could have. Being trampled by future cheeseburgers.
Next time I may look back a bit further, to college or my interactions with the future Vice President. We'll see.
An uncle’s illness reminded me yet again of the vulnerability of my own father. That coming up to 70 years old, his time may be limited with me. While that is extremely distressing since in the past decade my Dad and I have crossed into that great parental stage of being friends with your offspring, we seem to have limited time left, and increasing obligations on my part.
Which get me to thinking: one day Charlie may wonder: Dad was 30 when I was born. His whole teens and twenties are a mystery. Who was Matt before he was "Dad"? I am hoping that in the coming years, I can explore more of that part of my own father.
But what of Charlie?
Well, as you can plainly read, running blogs are boring. Who gives a flying fuck if I had to shit bad for the last mile of a run? My time sucked in the San Antonio Marathon, so who cares?
But I decided I would keep this blog for a while. I will fill it with funny, weird, and wacky recollections from my short, but honestly amazingly fun time on this planet. Some of this may have to wait until Charlie is a mature adult who has settled himself in life. Some he can hear as a child. But when I am facing the pearly gates at hopefully a very ripe old age, I don't want Charlie to ask: who WAS my father? I want my son to know where he came from, dumb ass mistakes, adventurous risks, drunken escapades and errors in judgment. Hell there are a few meals I may need to discuss since I can still recall that amazing taste or smell YEARS later.
If you are reading this, years from now Charlie, don't fret about one thing I know you don't want to know. There will be no recollection of torrid love affairs, or sexual escapades. No son wants to know about that side of his father. Gross. Needless to say, your mother was the best of all, and the best decision I ever made.
So I will start this with a very brief yarn. On my second trip hunting, ever, I lined up my shot on a herd of pigs at the bottom of a hill. At the top of said hill was a herd of cattle. The ranch owner let us hunt the ranch to reduce the feral hog population. She obviously did not want us to shoot the cattle. I lined up my shot, fired my rifle, and hit a pig. Unfortunately, it still lived and I need to fire again for a kill shot. Once done, me and my hunting partner and went to collect the pig and cut it up for tasty lean pork. It ended up on the other side of a barbed wire fence. Walking across the field to collect it, I suddenly heard what sounded like thunder. It was not thunder.
No. It was a herd of cattle, running at full speed down a hill, nostrils flaring, straight towards me. My hunting buddy was on the other side of the barbed wire fence, so considerably safer. Nothing stood between me and perhaps the most redneck death one could imagine. As luck has it, I was blessed as a fast runner, and used that talent to high-tale it to the fence, toss my rifle underneath the fence to the other side, and slide under the barbed wire without stopping (a harder feat than it may seem). The stampede continued unabated. So I shouted to my hunting buddy, who had a pistol, to shoot warning shots in the air. That did stop the cows.
But they stayed just on the other side of the fence. Watching yours truly. One even started bucking and jumping and shaking his head at me. The random horse in the herd whinnied and shook its mane. But I lived. And so, I escaped perhaps the lamest death that one could have. Being trampled by future cheeseburgers.
Next time I may look back a bit further, to college or my interactions with the future Vice President. We'll see.
Saturday, September 10, 2011
Two weeks- Ups and Downs
As I sit, I sit, I sit,
My legs they feel, they feel like shit
Maybe do you wonder how?
18 miles, no stops OW!
They didn't hurt until the end,
And now there's pain with every bend.
But now I sit with a great run done
Who the fuck convinced me this was FUN?
OK stupid poem written in post-run delirium of a lactic acid trip. SO after the long run two weeks ago, I decided I needed a weekend "off". Work stuff got in the way the week before last and I did not do well with maintenence runs.
But last weekend I got 5 miles in at a 7:20 min/mile pace or so, which was good. This week, just one maintencen run, again pretty quick, but I was pissed I didn't get any more in.
Today was good though! Started strong with little pain for most of the run. The weather cooperated and I think now that I have half a power bar, star bursts and gu just in case, I keep the energy level up. One issue was that today I had no water left by the end. I had some on the last mile but that does not bode well for future training. I am not sure where or how I'll get more water. Maybe bring money to buy some at a stripes??? This is where running with a group could be helpful.
In any case, I'm on a decent track. I need to get better with maintenance runs, and I'll have to go every weekend with a 20 miles or more until mid-October now, but I should be OK. I think I earned meself some good beers today and a sleep in tomorrow!
My legs they feel, they feel like shit
Maybe do you wonder how?
18 miles, no stops OW!
They didn't hurt until the end,
And now there's pain with every bend.
But now I sit with a great run done
Who the fuck convinced me this was FUN?
OK stupid poem written in post-run delirium of a lactic acid trip. SO after the long run two weeks ago, I decided I needed a weekend "off". Work stuff got in the way the week before last and I did not do well with maintenence runs.
But last weekend I got 5 miles in at a 7:20 min/mile pace or so, which was good. This week, just one maintencen run, again pretty quick, but I was pissed I didn't get any more in.
Today was good though! Started strong with little pain for most of the run. The weather cooperated and I think now that I have half a power bar, star bursts and gu just in case, I keep the energy level up. One issue was that today I had no water left by the end. I had some on the last mile but that does not bode well for future training. I am not sure where or how I'll get more water. Maybe bring money to buy some at a stripes??? This is where running with a group could be helpful.
In any case, I'm on a decent track. I need to get better with maintenance runs, and I'll have to go every weekend with a 20 miles or more until mid-October now, but I should be OK. I think I earned meself some good beers today and a sleep in tomorrow!
Sunday, August 28, 2011
One maintenance run a wekk does not a good long run make.
SO I ran on Tuesday, during the day, hot, crappy run. But I got it in. The rest of the week was exetremely difficult trying to pul myself out of bed for 0545 runs. As in: they did not happen.
Fast forward to today. Legs were like lead, and I had to stop way too much towards the end. I'm thinking about next weekend doing some speed work, or a shorter distance to try to get off this. I'm making the distances but I'm not seeing the progress I was hoping for if I'm going to break 4 hours in the race.
Sorry, too delirious for funny this week.
Fast forward to today. Legs were like lead, and I had to stop way too much towards the end. I'm thinking about next weekend doing some speed work, or a shorter distance to try to get off this. I'm making the distances but I'm not seeing the progress I was hoping for if I'm going to break 4 hours in the race.
Sorry, too delirious for funny this week.
Sunday, August 21, 2011
Week in Review: Why won't the boy let me sleep?
Last weekend did not happen, but I think at the end of the day that was a good thing. I had cigars and scotch Friday night which has some unfortunate side effects for running, mainly a nasty hangover Saturday that I needed to sleep in Sunday to fully recover from. But, the 9.5/ 10 mile run was not good. Too hot, lots of walking, slow pace. A weekend off was probably better in the long run.
This week I am having serious issues getting out of bed. Those issues have a name: Charlie. He is waking up a lot. Eileen is awesome and tends to him, but I don't think I'm getting the kind of straight sleep I need.
The run Tuesday around base was because of lack of sleep. It was also slow and HOT. As I left for the run, my paralegal told me there were "Black Flag Warnings" IE- only an idiot with a death wish would run. I went anyway. About 4.5-5 miles, I tried to go hard on the last half mile, but it just wasn't there.
Thursday was WAY better. Yes it is a shorter run, but I felt goo through it and it was a decent feeling pace (I don't time myself). I felt so good that I went to take my dog for a 1/2 mile run. I dragged her the whole way. I guess dogs get out of shape too.
Which brings me to this weekend. Originally I planned on running 14 miles Saturday morning. Charlie woke up about every hour to 2 hours. Ridiculous. I thought that ended after 6 months old? Anyway, I was exhausted when I woke up. There was no way I could do a long run. So I took it easy yesterday and tried again tonight. Charlie woke up twice earlier, but I got a good stretch of sleep in. Then he woke up at 445. One hour before I am supposed to get up for my run. Ugh. Well, I hit snooze a few times and got out around 645. During the first mile or so it flet like a warm up. I took a different route than I've ever taken before so that had goo parts and bad parts. Good part is it looked WAY better than my normal route. Sure, still a lot of empty fields but this route had some water front running, right by the ocean and the first part with the fields was mostly while the sun was still coming up. I did have some stiffness in my knees I had to stretch out,plus some walking at the very end, but otherwise, I was happy with the run. Longest yet, I finished it, and I kept an easy plodding pace the whole time.
I also renewed my contempt for bikers. Really don't care the situation: if you weigh over 200 pounds, are not taller than 6 foot, and most of that mass is flab, don't wear spandex. Just don't. If you are over 60, don't wear spandex. Let me break it down for everybody: don't wear spandex. I also don't need to see giant 50+ year old asses trying to pump across a long flat bridge. Just get away from me. I'm runnin here.
This week I am having serious issues getting out of bed. Those issues have a name: Charlie. He is waking up a lot. Eileen is awesome and tends to him, but I don't think I'm getting the kind of straight sleep I need.
The run Tuesday around base was because of lack of sleep. It was also slow and HOT. As I left for the run, my paralegal told me there were "Black Flag Warnings" IE- only an idiot with a death wish would run. I went anyway. About 4.5-5 miles, I tried to go hard on the last half mile, but it just wasn't there.
Thursday was WAY better. Yes it is a shorter run, but I felt goo through it and it was a decent feeling pace (I don't time myself). I felt so good that I went to take my dog for a 1/2 mile run. I dragged her the whole way. I guess dogs get out of shape too.
Which brings me to this weekend. Originally I planned on running 14 miles Saturday morning. Charlie woke up about every hour to 2 hours. Ridiculous. I thought that ended after 6 months old? Anyway, I was exhausted when I woke up. There was no way I could do a long run. So I took it easy yesterday and tried again tonight. Charlie woke up twice earlier, but I got a good stretch of sleep in. Then he woke up at 445. One hour before I am supposed to get up for my run. Ugh. Well, I hit snooze a few times and got out around 645. During the first mile or so it flet like a warm up. I took a different route than I've ever taken before so that had goo parts and bad parts. Good part is it looked WAY better than my normal route. Sure, still a lot of empty fields but this route had some water front running, right by the ocean and the first part with the fields was mostly while the sun was still coming up. I did have some stiffness in my knees I had to stretch out,plus some walking at the very end, but otherwise, I was happy with the run. Longest yet, I finished it, and I kept an easy plodding pace the whole time.
I also renewed my contempt for bikers. Really don't care the situation: if you weigh over 200 pounds, are not taller than 6 foot, and most of that mass is flab, don't wear spandex. Just don't. If you are over 60, don't wear spandex. Let me break it down for everybody: don't wear spandex. I also don't need to see giant 50+ year old asses trying to pump across a long flat bridge. Just get away from me. I'm runnin here.
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Buzzards, stink and more reasons to run early.
So I couldn't sleep last night. So I did not get up at 530 when Charlie did. I tried (unsuccessfully) to sleep in. I don't know why I didn't sleep, but running was not an option early.
So I ran around 1100 at lunch time. Just under 5 miles with a quarter mile sprint at the end. BUT...
It was hot. Really hot. The wind was cooling me off, but ugh, 95 degrees is too hot.
Eleven years ago, I lived in Berlin. Every so often a waft from the sewage system blew by. I called them "fart winds" for obvious reasons. I never thought I would think of that so clearly of that again until today. I was running by the marshes just off shore, it was windy, and the wind pushed a smell that smelled like rotten eggs fucked a dead fish and made a rotten egg dead fish baby, that farted a great wind across the coastal plains of Texas. It was AWESOME sucking that air in when running.
As I was out in the open I was getting really hot and slowing down a bit when I looked up. I actually had two buzzards circling above. I knew I wasn't doing great, but I didn't think I was doing THAT bad. Well, maybe they weren't ready to eat my carcass. but they were intimidating. There's more wildlife on base in Corpus. Gofers. Jackrabbits. Old people. Too exciting for my tastes. That'll learn me to run at work.
Points: need more speed. Going to work on that this week.
So I ran around 1100 at lunch time. Just under 5 miles with a quarter mile sprint at the end. BUT...
It was hot. Really hot. The wind was cooling me off, but ugh, 95 degrees is too hot.
Eleven years ago, I lived in Berlin. Every so often a waft from the sewage system blew by. I called them "fart winds" for obvious reasons. I never thought I would think of that so clearly of that again until today. I was running by the marshes just off shore, it was windy, and the wind pushed a smell that smelled like rotten eggs fucked a dead fish and made a rotten egg dead fish baby, that farted a great wind across the coastal plains of Texas. It was AWESOME sucking that air in when running.
As I was out in the open I was getting really hot and slowing down a bit when I looked up. I actually had two buzzards circling above. I knew I wasn't doing great, but I didn't think I was doing THAT bad. Well, maybe they weren't ready to eat my carcass. but they were intimidating. There's more wildlife on base in Corpus. Gofers. Jackrabbits. Old people. Too exciting for my tastes. That'll learn me to run at work.
Points: need more speed. Going to work on that this week.
Monday, August 8, 2011
10 er, 9.5 miles. DOH!
Ran Sunday instead of Saturday, however, slept in on Sunday as well. Not the best idea. It was hot and got hotter as the run went on. One improvement was bringing water. It did help but it still wasn't great. Definitely plodded along most of the time.
My biggest concern is running out of steam at the end. I keep running out of energy. I think I need to research how to get better endurance because this is daunting. This week will need at least one speed workout this week. I am hoping that will bring me back a bit. I do need to find a way to get better endurance. I think after this week I may not increase the mileage but plateau for a weekend to maintain. Unfortunately nothing funny happened. Or if something did happen, I was too out of it to notice.
It got so hot I prayed for the clouds to blow in front of the sun for a moment of "shade". Crazy. Oy. I'll keep up the maintenance runs this week and try for a speed run this week. I just need to get up early enough to get to the track on base. Must keep the press on.
My biggest concern is running out of steam at the end. I keep running out of energy. I think I need to research how to get better endurance because this is daunting. This week will need at least one speed workout this week. I am hoping that will bring me back a bit. I do need to find a way to get better endurance. I think after this week I may not increase the mileage but plateau for a weekend to maintain. Unfortunately nothing funny happened. Or if something did happen, I was too out of it to notice.
It got so hot I prayed for the clouds to blow in front of the sun for a moment of "shade". Crazy. Oy. I'll keep up the maintenance runs this week and try for a speed run this week. I just need to get up early enough to get to the track on base. Must keep the press on.
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