The Invisible Man

Suzanne's on the road again this week, so all is not as well in the Bowen household as I would like. Rubin is even more the spoiled brat when she's out. In spite of a walk yesterday morning after my swim workout, and another walk in the afternoon after my 40-minute, 5-mile (well, 5.1 miles in 38 minutes and small change, if you really need to know...) run in 90-degree conditions...he still wanted to go outside, over and over again. Well, it's not the going outside (into the back yard) he wanted, but more biscuits. After a while it became a battle of wills: I'd go to the back door to let him back in the house, and he'd stand there not wanting to come in. All right, stooopid dog. Stand out there and roast. See if I care. Make me explain to your mother when she returns why your carcass is in the veterinary clinic.

I don't sleep well when she's out...and not for the obvious reasons. Once you've developed a pattern and established a certain level of comfort, any sort of change kind of throws your system for a loop. So I was probably a little disoriented at 9:30-something when Jason, the husband of my "zeeba neighba" friend Laura, called. He finally got back into country after a year doing "gee-what" (the Navy is notorious for turning acronyms into words!) things. So, his plan was to take his week off and come get the stuff Laura put in the office, pack it in a U-Haul and get it all set up (eventually!) in Clarksville, Tennessee. Obviously the draw of money for a pharmacist was the primary reason to go there, because Laura says there's not much else to offer.
This sort of stuff doesn't happen too much here. It's more like that in the Tampa/St. Petersburg area, which at one time had some of the most dangerous street crossings in the U.S. I recall fondly my efforts to cross the intersection of Kennedy Boulevard and Ashley (or Tampa) Street, usually in running attire, and often on days when traffic was at its worst. Since it was only half a mile from the U.Tampa campus to the offices where my girlfriend (at that time of life) worked, it was always a good chance to get together for lunch two or three times a week. I never saw anyone get hit at one of those two intersections, but there were a couple of close calls, let me tell you.

Why does summer have to happen to us? Not certain. But I'm fortunate my thermometer and air conditioning unit at home is operational. The on-line resume system for the government certainly isn't. I have resumes submitted all over the government's human resources system, yet when it came time to consider for a program analyst position in the office next door to mine my name was not in the list of qualified applicants.

Huh?
Exactly the same thing my friend Sam said to the HR person here, which she said supposedly to the HR person in Norfolk. So, now the government HR folks and my granddaughter have something in common; neither one know of me.
Aarrgghh.

Standing on the scales last Saturday, I found I weighed about seven pounds heavier than I did during/after the triathlon. Again, I guess it means no more Mickey D runs on the way into the office after swim practice. Back to bagels and hummus from Mike's (Cafe' Espresso), without the brownie chaser.
Of course, the Navy, in its infinite wisdom, continues to make dietary decision-making difficult. I walked in to see sailors selling Krispy Kreme doughnuts, five dollars for a box of 12. Sure, no problem, let's load folks down with fat and sugar, then watch them crash and burn later in the afternoon...or have heart attacks after twenty years of the stuff.
And I do like the stuff. I haven't had one in a very, very long time. The only problem is that Krispy Kreme doughnuts are like potato chips: It is almost a certainty that you will not be limited to devouring a single doughnut.

Help Wanted

Three weeks post-triathlon. I guess it's pretty much high time to get back on the training. The most difficult part has been justifying what to do. It's a lot like the same feeling (depression?) which marathoners suffer after an event. think about it. You train for, focus your attention on, and live for that one day of activity. In a few short hours (relatively speaking), it's finished. Then, outside of the finishers' medallion and a t-shirt, there's not much else left but finding an eloquent way to tell the tale to your friends, family and anyone else who might stand still long enough to listen.

That's the bad part. The good part is when you have company; at least one person who has gone through the same event with you. At least you can do the social thing. Nothing like getting up to run at 7:30 on a Sunday morning, when the temperatures are 75 and rising, especially when you know someone else is going to suffer out there with you.
Thanks, Ferris, for taking the time to run 8.5 miles with me. It would have been much uglier without your help.

This week, for me, officially begins what I consider a transition period between seasons. We don't have too many running races here (yes, there are some in June...and a Fourth of July race or two...and one in August...) that reach out and grab my attention; anyway, it's hard to race well when the temperature is 90-plus degrees. Oh, and let's not forget the 90-percent humidity, too.

Usually, this means writing workouts with a Plan B. Plan B for a workout shouldn't necessarily be confused with a bail-out option where you pull the ripcord, get back in the car, drive home and crack open a cold brew. Plan B decreases the effort level, or adjusts the location to one with some shade, or utilizes a (convenient) headwind. Planning for nasty conditions like high temperatures, high humidity, or thunderstorm activity almost has to be a given here.

Of course, you can't try to make up for lost workouts. A lost workout is a lost workout is a lost workout. Period. However, you can plan accordingly by setting up a longer base period, a longer build-up and a longer preparation period for racing. How much longer? Well, that's where the art of coaching comes in. There are some aspects where I can juggle numbers, multiply by pi times the radius squared, subdivide by the number of weeks in a month, et cetera, et cetera, and so forth...and still miss the mark; darn it, they were ready to race two weeks too soon!

It's the joy of analysis. You have as much data as you are going to get from a given set of sources during a given time frame. You look for the trends, the philosopher's stone which will turn base metal into gold, and let 'er fly. If you're fortunate everything falls into place and you look fairly smart. However, more often than not you are dealing with human beings. That means you might not receive all of the information you need; or they'll withhold that little sliver of stuff which would help you make the right decision...and then they ask, 'you didn't look at...?' Of course, I didn't look at that particular piece of information. But only because you didn't provide it to me until now.
There aren't many differences between my job as a coach and my job as a program analyst; except the fact right now I seek a job which will pay me after October 1st. In spite of 20 years of federal government experience as an analyst, an administrative person, a go-to guy, a jack-of-most-all trades, a teacher, a seeker of good stuff (research) and a writer, all of it and 85 cents will get me a cup of coffee at Denny's...if I can get the attention of a waitress.
Yes, quite frankly, I am shamelessly plugging for a job. I'll be glad to send my resume to any prospective employer. Just point them in my direction. In the meantime I'll be developing Plan B for my employment life.