Southwestern Quinoa Soup

It’s soup season and, I’ve been on a quinoa kick as of late. A friend gave me a recipe which can be easily adapted to whatever you have in your pantry. It’s simple to make and, the salsa I used really brings the flavor.

8 cups vegetable broth (2 boxes)
1 cup quinoa (uncooked)
1 can corn
1 can black beans
1 12oz jar roasted garlic salsa (Trader Joe’s)
1 avocado, diced
Cilantro, chopped (about “that” much)
1 lime

These instructions are an approximation of me winging it:

Bring 4 cups broth to boil, add quinoa and reduce to medium-high heat. After about 10 minutes, add corn, black beans, and salsa. After another 5 minutes, add remaining broth, cilantro, and avocado. Squeeze in the lime. Allow another 5 minutes to heat evenly, then serve.

My Columbus Marathon

I’d planned and trained for better. Not only my training but also my pace in prior races this year held promise for a five-hour finish. I even held a pace in the first half that promised a negative split in the second half but, that didn’t happen. My left IT band seized up; each time I stopped to stretch, it got worse. Around mile 15, I started taking walking breaks. Around mile 18, I wanted to drop out. Around mile 20, I thought I’d have no choice but to drop out. It was cold, I was miserable and, I was limping. My finish time was 6:05:42 for an overall pace of 13:57 per mile. I’m blown away that I finished. Despite all that went wrong, I feel an amazing sense of accomplishment.

Don’t get me wrong. I felt the weight of failure. After months of training, how could my race come down to this? Friends and training partners have told me that you just cannot know what will come on race day. Something more than failure did come- I finished.

Pain is not a deterrent but a motivator to push through to the next level. My goal for next year is to overcome the setbacks I experienced this past Sunday, to not only meet the pace goal I had set for myself but to kill it.

 

Prior to the race with fellow MIT (marathoners in training) and Gracehaven fundraiser Judi. It was her birthday.

 

In the final mile at barely a trot but still smiling.

 

Proud of Jennifer having stretched herself beyond her first 5k in June to run her first half marathon four months later and represent for Gracehaven.

 

Struttin’ past the finish line, perhaps somewhat delirious from pain and exhaustion, and looking for Ann who would give me my finisher’s medal.

 

Showing off the medal. This gets me to thinking that capes are underrated.

 

After the race with Ann and Terri. Accomplishments such as this are better when the experience is shared with friends.

 

Post-race celebration one week later with the Flying Turtles of the MIT 12:00 minute pace group. That there is a good-looking group.

LUNGevity 5K

I woke up this morning and thought, “Let’s run a 5K today.”

I’d been hearing about the LUNGevity 5K for several weeks. I was supposed to run a half marathon today but, that wasn’t going to happen. I also learned that Cbusr had formed a fund raising team. More significantly, lung cancer had taken my dad away from me. Yes, I would run the LUNGevity 5K today.

On-site registration was set for 9am and, the race would begin at 10am. It was about 8:30 when I made my decision and got out of bed.

Let’s rewind the clock to Friday night. Normally, with plans to run the next morning, there would be zero consumption of alcohol. I need to take every measure to stay hydrated. Having no plans to run the next morning, I had no such restrictions on Friday.

Dehydration, thy name is whiskey.

Fast forward to Saturday morning. With a cramp in my leg and the barest hint of a hangover, I somehow decided to run. I quickly got dressed, grabbed a bottle of water and slipped out the door.

It was 33 degrees outside. Whose idea was this?

I parked at Confluence Park and, hoping to warm up, jogged over to North Bank Park where registration and the starting line were set up. Upon arrival, I registered under team Cbusr and made my own donation. Waiting for the race to start, I was pleased to see familiar acquaintances and meet new and wonderful people. Hot coffee helped me to ignore the chill in the air.

The race was a simple out and back along the bike path. By the time I crossed the finish line, I was no longer chilled. It was simply remarkable to me that I could do this. A year ago, I couldn’t run around the block.

Breathing Easy

Approaching 40 this past summer, I had smoked for 24 years and never accomplished anything athletic in my life. A trip up the stairs would leave me winded. I had a pack-a-day habit, unsuccessfully attempting every pharmaceutical approach available to quit smoking. It was not until I tied on a pair of running shoes that I was able to quit.

That is not to say that I quit smoking right away. I had bought the shoes in 2007 – a pair of New Balance 1223. They looked good, especially when I wore them out to the patio to smoke another cigarette. I thought they looked particularly good when I jaunted down to the grocery store for a case of Killians and a bag of Doritos.

Having lost my dad to cancer in 2007, and watching my mom’s health deteriorate since then, it was with increasing determination that I set out give tobacco the boot. It was not until I learned of my cousin’s success that I knew how to quit.

The Captain is two years my senior and had smoked all his life. Then, in 2008, he started running and quit smoking. He was running regularly, counting calories and losing weight.

On June 16 of this year, I smoked my last cigarette at midnight. I went to bed and, after a good night of sleep, I strapped on my running shoes and went for a jog around the block. Rather, I should say, I jogged from my driveway to the neighbor’s driveway and walked the rest of the way.

I was terribly out of shape. The pounding my lungs took that first morning was enough to keep me off cigarettes the rest of the day. Although I wanted the pleasure of a cigarette, I knew I could not suffer a cigarette. I continued this routine for the next several days.

It did not take very long for my knees to complain.

My doctor prescribed physical therapy, and I started riding my bike, instead. This lead to my riding the 100-mile course in Pelotonia in August but, that’s another story.

Now that the weather has turned south, I’ve put the bike away. My physical therapist cleared me to start running again, so I am working up to running the Commit to be Fit 5k in the Spring, and the Columbus Marathon in the Fall. I am presently running one mile, walking two, and haven’t had a cigarette in six months.

As for the Captain, he ran in the Akron Marathon this past Fall and qualified for Boston. He really had to set the bar high. Bastard.

Splitting the Difference

“How did you meet this girl?”

“I split the difference.”

“You split the difference?”

“I split the difference, Steve.”

“What do you mean you split the difference?”

“Remember when we had pizza at Papa Tony’s? I liked the waitress, but you thought the food was rubbish.”

“Yes. Are we talking about food now, or did you shag the waitress?”

“I’m talking about the tip.”

“Oh, good. That clears up everything, Jeff.”

“I wanted to tip the waitress ten, and you thought that was absurd.”

“Then we tipped the waitress five. She wasn’t even that good. What does this have to do with your date?”

“Don’t you see, Steve? You and I split the difference on what to tip the waitress.”

“Nope. I still don’t follow you, Jeff.”

“When your sister set me up with Stephanie, there was no way I could just phone her up without a test run.”

“A test run?”

“Right! A test run!”

“What’s a test run, Jeff?”

“I needed to give a go on a complete stranger, somebody who didn’t know me, couldn’t know me, and would never know it was me who called.”

“Oh. No. What did you do?”

“I split the difference. Stephanie’s number was 555-4280. I dialed 555-2140.”

“You dialed a complete stranger? Absurd! What if you had dialed a bloke?”

“Don’t be a fool, Steve. I only date women.”

“Right. My mistake. Who answered the phone?”

“Julie.”

“What happened when you talked to Julie?”

“She put Mary on the phone.”

“Why did she put Mary on the phone?”

“It was brilliant, Steve. Mary had gone out to Patrick J’s Saturday night. Julie just assumed that I was some bloke that Mary must have met that night.”

“Brilliant is not the word that comes to mind.”

“What do you mean?”

“Never mind, Jeff. Please go on with your story. I’m on the very edge of my seat.”

“OK. Well. Mary gets on the phone. I say, ‘Hi, this is Jeff.’ Why are you laughing, Steve?”

“Oh, I was just remembering a girl I went out with last Spring. Her name was Mary.”

“Wow! That is a coincidence.”

“She was nuts. A total fruitcake.”

“What’s wrong, Steve? Why are your eyes getting so big?”

“Do you mean to tell me that the girl you have fallen in love with is a complete stranger you dialed at random on the telephone?”

“Yes.”

“That she’s in love with you?”

“Yes.”

“You’ve been dating for three months?”

“Yes! What of it?!”

“You’re a fruitcake, Jeff! My ex-girlfriend is a fruitcake! Two fruitcakes passing in the night! You’re dating my ex!”

“Oh. Is that a problem?”

My Summer

My Summer seems an odd title, as this has very little to do with me and everything to do with my dad.

My dad quit smoking two years ago. Since last fall, my dad had been walking up to five miles a day. He was losing weight and lowering his cholesterol. He regularly took his prescribed medications. He was sixty-five years old and taking great care of himself. When he started experiencing pain in his hip after his walks, he thought little of it except to take a pain-killer and a nap.

On Thursday, May 31st, I learned that my dad had been diagnosed with lung, liver and bone cancer. This was the diagnosis of the ER attending, not the oncologist. However, this diagnosis was confirmed a few days later.

We were told that his cancer could not be cured but progression could be delayed. He was given two months without treatment, up to two years with treatment. My dad was determined to put up a fight and began treatment right away.

However, treatment seemed to be worse than the disease. My dad was confused, hallucinating, in greater pain and often sleeping from the medications. We all agreed that quality of life was more important than prolonging life. Treatment was stopped.

We then learned that my dad also had cancer in his spine. Two of three doctors concluded he would only live a few more weeks.

My birthday was July 13th, and my dad was not expected to see my birthday. Laurie’s birthday was July 20th, and my dad was not expected to see her birthday. My parents’ 40th anniversary was July 31st, and my dad was not expected to see their anniversary.

My dad saw my birthday, Laurie’s birthday, and his 40th wedding anniversary. He was in hospice by the time of his anniversary, and the staff prepared the most wonderful anniversary dinner for my mom and dad.

My dad seemed to be doing so well by this point that he was sent home two days later. We all wondered if the doctors were wrong about his prognosis. Laurie and I had been spending all of our weekends, since the diagnosis, with my parents and even had taken time off from work. The weekend of August 3rd, Laurie and I considered we would take the following weekend off from visiting in order to spend some time with each other. We were tired, both physically and emotionally. On the afternoon of Sunday, August 5th, we left Akron to return to Columbus. My dad stepped to the front door to wave goodbye as we pulled out of the driveway, and we waved back.

The next evening, my dad was re-admitted to hospice for the last time. Laurie and I called off from work Tuesday morning, packed our clothes, and returned to Akron. I would have no more conversations with my dad as he had slipped into a coma. My only prayer was that he would not pass on the 11th, my youngest son’s birthday.

My dad passed at 9:48pm on Friday, August 10th.

Throughout that final week, and every day since his passing, I continue to remember him standing at the door and waving goodbye. A month later, this still does not seem real. I still think about how my dad might answer when I call.

In the time since the memorial service, Laurie and I have caught up on house work and with each other. We also spent Labor Day weekend in the Smoky Mountains.

My mom is doing as well as might be expected. She is getting out of the house, taking time to see friends and family. She has also started walking for exercise and is up to two miles a day.