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It’s All Over Now

It’s All Over Now

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I am in a funk.

At 3:50 AM this morning, while I was sleeping, my summer officially ended.

Today at 3:50 AM, the first day of fall began.

Summer is over.

My favorite season of the year has ended.

And I slept through it.

 

And then there is the Steelers.

In preparation for the football season in a moment of team spirit, I pushed the send order button on a really cool, somewhat expensive, Hawaiian style Steelers shirt to replace my AB shirt that is now as valuable as koi poo.  I was pumped, I was ready for the new season.

But alas the Steelers are 0 and 3 to start their season and Big Ben is out at least for this year.  I fear that the season is over.

 

And don’t bust out the sweatshirts just yet because then there is Climate Change!

Because,  even though my Steelers Hawaiian shirt is still sitting in the same place I put it the day I received it in the mail, it’s not due to the weather because we have climate change and it’s the first day of fall and its 91 degrees!

 

This climate change movement is really scary.  It’s like something has our young people possessed.

Friday I listened to a young female college student who said she had no reason to finish college because of climate change we were all going to be dead anyway. Still, others said there was no reason to have children.  And one of the signs I saw displayed in D.C. today said: “capitalism kills.”  I am guessing that means socialism doesn’t.

The world as we knew it, is over, we are going to die.

 

Last week my grandson Christian played Jesus in his Chapel skit at his preschool.

Alexa video chatted me to have Christian tell me about this and the dialog went something like this:

 

Alexa: “Christian who were you in chapel today?”

Christian: “Jesus”

Alexa: “Who was Owen?”  (His friend)

Christian: “He was Matthew the cash register.” (I think he meant tax collector)

Alexa: “Who was Royce?”  (Another classmate)

Christian: “He was a fisher of men.”  (Fisherman probably…Simon Peter I am guessing)

 

In another video Alexa sent the next day,  Christian was singing “I will make you fishers of men…fishers of men…if you follow me…”

Experiencing this, I am reminded of the reason you have children.  And maybe teaching them about Jesus and why it’s important to be a good steward of the world and how we treat each other may be more effective than promoting socialism, creating severe harmful anxiety in our youth, and living with the expectation we are all going to die before I am going to be able to access my 401K.

 

You know what, it’s probably not worth worrying about anyway.

Because…

I read something recently that our attention span has decreased from 12 seconds in the year 2000, to 8 seconds in 2015.  So do the math and that means that in 2019 we are down to 7 seconds and surely by now none of you who are reading this are paying any attention and are off to something else.

Hello…

But think about it, in 26 years, if we all aren’t dead from climate change we probably won’t care because our attention spans will have been reduced to nothing and we won’t have the ability to focus on or have an opinion about anything. Our ability to think will be over.

 

It won’t be business as usual anymore.

And now this, if any of you are still paying attention…

Is over.

 

 

 

Awesome…I Have Plenty of Time

Awesome…I Have Plenty of Time

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The clock above my kitchen window says it is 7:00 o’clock.

“Awesome,” I think to myself, “I have plenty of time.”

The problem is the clock above my kitchen window reads 7:00 o’clock all the time lately.

That is because the battery is dead.

But most mornings, even if it just for the briefest moment, I forget, and out of habit I look up at that clock and think:

“Awesome, I have plenty of time.”

 

The last couple of weeks our attention has been on Hurricane Dorian and chicken sandwiches.

Because of my little guys, I was selfishly relieved that the hurricane didn’t impact south Florida as initially predicted. But I can’t help feeling a little ashamed of that selfishness after viewing what happened to the Bahamas.

Then to make it even worse the total anarchy of the situation led to the desperation of looting by armed residents.

While on the flip side of that dose of reality, we had the unreality of desperation with Popeye’s Chicken sandwiches.

Chicken sandwiches that caused chaos and disorder with disgruntled customers, threatening lawsuits; a group rushing the restaurant with at least one brandishing a weapon just to name a couple.

I don’t even eat chicken.

But if I did I wouldn’t want to have to carry a weapon to go buy a sandwich.

I can’t imagine walking into a Burger King brandishing a weapon and rushing the counter for their veggie burger.

Truth is I am not against owning a gun; in fact, the situation that presented itself in the Bahamas, in my opinion, is exactly why you should own a gun.

Who knows when you and your family may find yourselves in these desperate conditions where lawlessness prevails?

 

But this is not about guns.

It’s about time.

The unpredictability of it.

And running out of it.

 

This has been a different summer for Kim and me.

Unlike last year when we got out on our bikes four or five times week, this year we simply got out on our bikes four or five times.

And the excitement and the anticipation of spending time on the kayaks we got for Christmas has so far resulted in only two trips.

All that said we wouldn’t change the summer we had if we had the chance to.

Our parents are in their late 80’s and even 90 in my dad’s case.

Time with our parents we may not have plenty of.

That clock hasn’t stopped.

And that has been our priority and our pleasure this year as I have written before.

Today we remember that eighteen years ago 2,977 of our brothers and sisters boarded planes and went to work all with their own excitement and anticipation of whatever it was they were looking forward to in their lives.  And just recently the husband of a friend of Kim’s drowned off of Cape Hatteras while on vacation with his family. He was just 61, and no doubt had plenty of plans for the future.

 

 

But I am 63.

And the clock above my kitchen window says it is 7:00 o’clock.

Awesome…I have plenty of time.

 

Post Script:

Prayers go out to Frankie Chuday and family, the people of the Bahamas and others affected by Hurricane Dorian, and the individuals and families of those still suffering from the attack on September 11, 2001.

Three Days of Peace, Love, and The Wheels on the Bus

Three Days of Peace, Love, and The Wheels on the Bus

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When the truth is found
To be lies
And all the joy
Within you dies

Don’t you want somebody to love
Don’t you need somebody to love
Wouldn’t you love somebody to love
You better find somebody to love, love

(from Somebody To Love, written by Darby Slick, recorded by the Jefferson Airplane)

 

According to the Woodstock Wiki the band Jefferson Airplane was scheduled to be the headliner on Saturday evening but actually hit the stage on Sunday morning around 8 am.  Somebody to Love was the second song of their set list that morning.

Rolling Stone magazine ranked Jefferson Airplane’s version No. 274 on their list of the 500 Greatest Songs of All Time.  It’s also one of my all time favorites.

We were traveling this weekend.

My “This Day in History” email that I received the day we left, August 15 from the History Channel, reminded me that in 1969 on this day the Woodstock Music Festival opened. Three days of peace, love, and music.

I was not at Woodstock.

I was only 13 years old.

I recalled part of my experiences from that summer of ‘69 in my post Bell Bottom Blues Revisited.

 

But now it is fifty years later and 2019.

And the other This Day in History for me this weekend was that it was on this same weekend of the month in February that I last saw my two little guys in Florida.  Six months is way too long to not see your grandchildren.

And I was reminded of that very clearly.

“Pop Pop I haven’t seen you in years and years,”  said Christian very dramatically on Friday on our way to a park.

Christian is my four year old grandson, and man he is killing me…

“It’s been forever!” he said, rubbing it in a little more.

 

He was right, it did seem like forever.

 

Our Woodstock anniversary weekend didn’t include anything even close to Jefferson Airplane or Jimi Hendrix playing the Star Spangled Banner.  It was Wheels on the Bus on You Tube, water slides, playgrounds at the park, ice cream, swinging in the back yard, cookies, and walks to Publix for Lunchables, and playing Disney Bus.

 

And now that our three days of peace, love, Wheels on the Bus, and grandchildren are over and Mimi and Pop Pop are waiting at the airport to return to Virginia, it’s nice that we had somebody to love.

The next time though we can’t wait “years and years.”

 

Apotheosis

Apotheosis

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My word of the day, that arrives in my email each day,  on Monday was apotheosis.

It means the best point in something’s development or a perfect example.

The sample sentence was “He is the apotheosis of kindness, treating everyone with dignity and respect.”

A good word, I thought, one I will try to remember.

 

Robert (not his real name) had given up.

After years on the waiting list for a liver, he decided to take his name off.

According to the United Network for Organ Sharing the Model for End-Stage Liver Disease (MELD) is a numerical scale, ranging from 6 to 40 (gravely ill), used for liver transplant candidates age 12 and older. It gives each person a ‘score’ (number) based on how urgently he or she needs a liver transplant within the next three months.

Now at his appointment, Robert learned his number was going up, and according to his physician he had about six weeks to live.

Robert’s first shot at getting a liver was foiled by an unrelated infection somewhere else in his body that  was enough to make the transplant procedure too risky.  For Robert now, lightning needed to strike twice, and that didn’t seem likely.

So at that moment in the doctor’s office with just weeks left, it seemed hopeless.  “Take me off the list,” he said.  He had some work being done on his house and figured he would just spend these final weeks making sure that got done right.

On his way back to his North Carolina home however, Robert had second thoughts.  He called his doctor back to say he wanted to stay on the list.

 

Lee Dingle, a 37-year-old engineer from Raleigh, North Carolina was playing with his kids in shallow waters on Oak Island, south of Wilmington.  Lee Dingle was married and had six kids. Four of those six kids were adopted.

“My partner, my love, and my home died today after a freak accident. Lee was playing on the beach with three of our kids yesterday, and an intense wave hit him just right to slam his head into the sand and break his neck,” his wife, Shannon Dingle, wrote on Twitter on Friday, July 19.

It has been reported that 55 people in need of transplants received Lee Dingle’s organs.

Shannon Dingle also advised people to “make sure your loved ones know your wishes,” because even though her husband was a registered organ donor, the consent still needs to come from next of kin.

 

Ironically, Mr. Dingle passed away from his injuries on the same day that we lost Donny, also an organ donor, 17 years ago.  It was also a Friday.

We will never understand why God’s plan for Donny and Lee Dingle was not what was to be expected.

We don’t know either why God’s plan for Robert included a slowly failing organ.

 

We push back when we read in the Bible that we are to give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.

Because that’s not always easy.

Yet we remain faithful.

 

And as for Robert, the weekend following his doctor’s appointment, the appointment he when he almost gave up, he received his second chance.

We will pray for Robert and his family for healing and the fulfillment of what it is that God has planned for him.

 

And my family will also pray for the Dingle family, as we know there are no words at a time like this, except prayer that make any sense.

 

Apotheosis…it seems to work for Donny and Lee Dingle.  “They were the apotheosis of kindness, treating everyone with dignity and respect.”

Yup, a good word I think.

 

A Go Fund Me account has been set up to assist the family of Lee Dingle.  If you would like to donate here is the link. The photo of the Dingle family is from the Go Fund Me page.

 

Feet Faddish

Feet Faddish

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I see people posting these photos of their legs and feet on social media all the time.

I don’t really understand why anyone would want to see a photo of my feet but I thought it might be fun to participate in this social media fad.

 

Finally.

A day on a weekend that I am home.

A day on a weekend that I am home and it is not raining.

Can you believe it is the 13th of July and I am just opening up the pool?

Crazy right?

 

Kim wanted me to clean the garage today.

But I thought nah…

 

Take it easy.

Sit by the pool, under the palm tree, and relax.

Well, I am not quite sitting under the palm tree yet.

That is the palm tree to the left of my feet.

Maybe in 10 or 12 years if I am still here, I will actually be sitting under the palm tree.

 

Cameron told me this morning that when I am not alive anymore, he wants my truck.

That caught me off guard a little but hey you never know.

You never know what God’s plan is.

 

So today, I think I will just sit by the pool, next to my little palm tree, and look at my feet.

The garage will be there tomorrow.

Me, and days like this, may not.

Happy Birthday Baby

Happy Birthday Baby

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Today is Kim’s birthday and we are 270 miles away from each other.  We have kind of become used to this routine this year as we each run some cover for our aging parents.  Kim’s in western PA and mine on the Eastern Shore of Maryland.  Sadly, it has become more efficient to split up on weekends since there never seems to be enough time to cover all our bases.

June is always a wash for us anyway because of our church yard sale which Kim and I are heavily involved in.  That may sound silly in the context of opening up your garage door on a Saturday morning, moving some things out on to the driveway and then parking yourself in a lawn chair while you collect money.

I have written about this event before. Physically it is the most challenging thing that I do every year.  Not even taking into consideration the three weeks we take to prepare, think of it as walking five or six marathons in a 36 to 48 hour time period while carrying someone’s donated sofa.

This year, more than ever, I could really feel it.

This being my birthday month I was also required to renew my driver’s license.  I opted to get one of those real ID’s.  So one rainy morning a couple of weeks ago I got up early went to the DMV which is always a painful experience and this one was no exception

I brought my birth certificate, my W-2, my mortgage statement, my electric bill, my marriage license, and what was left of my social security card.

The guy at the information desk asked what I wanted to do, then asked to see my birth certificate.

My birth certificate is very fragile.  Taped together after all those years of being carried in my wallet from back in the day when you could get served at age 18 and sometimes you needed extra proof of your age.

I smiled and handed it to the guy making small excuses for its condition due to the fact its shares its age with me.

He looked at it and said, “This is not a birth certificate.”

Catching me off guard I said, “Excuse me? This is my birth certificate…it’s been my birth certificate, well (stammering now) …since I was born!”

(Boy that was a really smart thing to say, I thought to myself)

“It is not a birth certificate it is a registration of birth certificate, you need to get the real birth certificate,” he replied.

I continued to debate the authenticity of my birth certificate but to no avail, the guy says, “Would you like to come back with your real birth certificate or just renew your license?”

“I will just renew my license,” I said dejectedly.

And then there was my doctor’s appointment.    I get great anxiety over picking up the phone and making a doctor’s appointment, it takes a lot of self-debating.  However, this time in the week’s leading up the yard sale, the chronic pain in my legs, the mysterious growth on my skin, and the pain and lump in my armpit finally motivated me to make the call.  Truthfully the axillary pain and lump was the decider.  So at 7:30 a.m. on the Monday following the yard sale I scheduled my appointment.

Low and behold as is typically the case when I make a doctor’s appointment, a few days before, the chronic leg pain I had been experiencing for months subsided and the axillary pain and lump disappeared so basically I looked like an idiot going to the doctor. I assured him (he is a new primary for me) I wasn’t a hypochondriac and I really had symptoms…once.  At the end  of the exam he gave me one of those polite, patronizing come back to see me when you have more serious boo-boo’s send offs and I left swearing that the next time I visit a doctor it will be out of the back of an ambulance.

 

While going through my garage earlier this month looking for items to bring up to the church yard sale,  I found a post card from thirty years ago that Alexa had given me on my 33rd birthday.

It read:

Dear Daddy

I love you a lot

It is very fun having you as a dad

I like you very much

Rember (sic)

We have to buy something for Browies (sic) (tomorow) (sic)

I love you being the big 33er

Love

Alexa

 

I think I figured out that Alexa would have been six years old when she wrote this.

I don’t even remember her being in the Browies…I mean Brownies.

 

What is the point of all this?

Not sure.

I guess now being the big 63er causes me to reflect.

The grueling physical weekend I had last week reminded me I am not young anymore and I can’t do what I used to.

My experience renewing my license shows the challenges of change and bureaucracy.  Some problems can’t be fixed no matter how much tape you use.

The pain and swelling in my armpit was a red flag for me on how quickly my situation could change and had me wondering if I was okay with my life up to this point and was I in the right place with God.

A post card from thirty years ago shows me how fast thirty years can go by, and what I don’t remember about my kids growing up.

Now sitting across the table from my parents, I see the preview of what is to come since I am the next generation, and wonder if my kids will do the same.

And being 270 miles away from my wife on her birthday tells me that sometimes there are things in life that that are more of a priority, like our parents.

But also, how much I miss her.

Happy Birthday Baby.

 

The Chase, Twenty Five Years Later

The Chase, Twenty Five Years Later

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Today on the radio I was reminded that on this day twenty five years ago we were all captivated by the low speed police chase of the infamous white Bronco.  The following is an edited version of an essay written in 2014 on the twentieth anniversary:

The Chase

“I’ve had to run, I’ve had to crawl.

Been rich as a king, had nothing at all.

Still raising hell, tearing down walls.

I know where I stand, I’m learning to fall.”

From “Learning to Fall” A Song Written by Eric Lowen

Listening to the radio this week I was reminded of a week in my life twenty years ago.

Friday June 17, 1994 probably started off as a normal day for most Americans, but it wouldn’t end that way. I was in Seattle for some kind of a meeting, something to do with homecare pharmacy I think. The meeting ended on Friday but I had decided to stick around until Sunday and do some sight- seeing. So I rented a car and started looking for things to do. Through a local paper I found out that a band I liked, Lowen and Navarro, was playing at a club called the Backstage. Just a couple of days before I left to go Seattle I saw them play at Wolf Trap in Vienna Virginia. Before the show I found Eric Lowen walking around the Wolf Trap grounds and introduced myself and we talked a bit.

The show at the Backstage started really late and since I didn’t know the area and had nothing better to do, I thought I would scout out the place so I would know how to get there later that night. So in the afternoon, I found the club and went inside.  The band had just finished their sound check and Lowen greeted me as I walked in but then immediately launched into this “man have you been watching the TV?………….OJ Simpson is on the 405 with the police chasing him……its crazy!”

I went back to my hotel and watched along with about 95 million other Americans, the rest of the events that unfolded that evening and countless replays of what had occurred earlier. OJ Simpson and the White Ford Bronco, may be the most famous police chase ever witnessed and recorded.

Later that night I went back to the Backstage, watched the show, had an after show backstage refreshment with the band and another fan from Annapolis who was in Seattle that weekend too.

The OJ Simpson drama would play out over the next sixteen month’s as the trial was televised and America continued to watch. I remember sitting in a board meeting in the glass enclosed conference room of the company I worked for at the time and watching the staff spill into the hallway shouting the news through the glass when OJ Simpson was found not guilty.

I continued to be a big fan of Lowen and Navarro, catching them at the Birchmere in Alexandria, or the Barns at Wolftrap, or wherever they played in the DC area.

In 2004 Eric Lowen began his own chase for life as he was diagnosed with amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS), or Lou Gehrig’s Disease. ALS is a progressive neurodegenerative disease that affects nerve cells in the brain and the spinal cord ultimately leading to death, there is no cure. He continued to tour, as his disease progressed he would do shows in his power wheelchair assisted always by his traveling physical therapist.

In December of 2008 Lowen and Navarro put out their last studio CD called “Learning to Fall.” The last time I saw them was at the Birchmere, and in fact their last live performance together was at the Birchmere on June 6, 2009. Kim and I had tickets but for a reason I now can’t remember, we decided not to go.

On March 23rd 2012 Eric’s run for his life ended and he died of complications from ALS.

If you have about eight minutes here is a link to a somewhat moving video:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oeaO6TvGX4w

So like the question I heard on the radio this week that made me recall all this, where were you during “the chase” twenty years ago…..do you remember?

…

 

That was from 2014, it’s hard to believe that memory is now twenty-five years old now.  Dan Navarro still tours and makes frequent visits to the DC and Annapolis area. Lowen and Navarro’s biggest claim to fame was probably the fact that Pat Benatar’s “We Belong” was their song.  Their music is well worth a listen.

 

Well, so where were you during “the chase” twenty-five years ago?

Throwback Thursday

Throwback Thursday

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This evening, while ripping through my Facebook feed, I had one of those Throwback Thursday moments.  I was stopped by a post titled “Highway One 5K dedicated to memory of Doug White.”

Since Kim and I haven’t been back to the Delaware beaches in few years, I was unaware that Doug White had died of a cerebral hemorrhage in December of 2016.  Kim and I met Doug in 2014 when we were running a lot of races and spending some time at the beach in South Bethany.

Here is a blog post I wrote in September of 2014:

Tomorrow is the last race of the Ten Sisters race series for this summer. The series will conclude with the Barry P. Lister Bottle and Cork 10 Miler and 5K in Dewey Beach. Kim and I are signed up to do the 10 miler and we are sweating it. We haven’t done more than a 10K since the Spring.

My cousin Art messaged me this week. He has been following my posts and said I should talk to his son Charles because he is preparing for a 100 mile race next weekend in Colorado.

Excuse me? Hey Artie, your finger must have slipped buddy! You added an extra 0 on there by mistake! You said 100 miles (chuckle); we are talking about sweating 10 milers here!

 Nope………no finger slips, 100 miles.

 Somehow I don’t associate 100 miles with running races. I relate it more to articles in travel magazines like “Ten Great Day Trips Less than 100 Miles from D.C. by Car” or something like that.

 I can’t imagine putting on my running shoes on a Saturday morning and saying to Kim:

“Hey honey, I am going to RUN over to my mother’s, don’t wait up.”

 I live in Herndon, Virginia.

My mother lives on the Eastern Shore of Maryland.

Next Friday, my cousin’s son Charles will participate in the Run Rabbit Run in Steamboat Springs Colorado and run 100 miles. The following is from the Run Rabbit Run website:

“These are not beginner’s runs. The uphills and downhills are fairly steep. You’ll spend a lot of time at an altitude of nearly two miles. There may be snow, rain, sleet, wind, or then again, it may be hot. Please do not try to run this course if you’re not completely prepared.”

No kidding!

 

We love the running community out here at the beach. We ran into some old friends and expanded our cast of characters more. We saw Ambrosia Mike; and Joey Noodles, who is from New York City and comes to Rehoboth every weekend; and Leo who we met at the Irish Eyes race in Lewes in June.

And then there is 72 year old Doug White. Doug decided 41 years ago he wanted to run the Boston Marathon and hasn’t stopped since. He has run 41 consecutive Boston Marathons. He was planning to stop at 40 but with the tragedy of last year’s race, had to go back.

“Last year was just not the time to end my streak,” he said. “It just wasn’t right.”

 

Amazing.

One hundred mile races? 

Forty one consecutive Boston Marathons? 

And Kim and I are trying to figure out if we should opt out of the 10 miler and just run the 5K? 

Dictionary.com defines “wimpish” as an adjective that means “Having the traits of a wimp; soft; weak” 

What’s it going to be, wimps?

 

I guess we will find out tomorrow.

 

I remember Doug as a really nice guy, eager to talk, and easy to like.

After the race, upon receiving his award for winning his age category, he promptly gave the glass to Kim, explaining he had enough of these awards already.  Doug went on, by the way, to run forty three Boston Marathons in a row before the 2011 Delaware Sports Hall of Fame inductee passed away at the age of 74.

 

This evening we also had the honor of remembering another great athlete close to our hearts.  Tonight was the Herndon High School awards ceremony where Kim presented the Donny Soberdash Athletic Scholarship to two young athletes who displayed a similar drive to play three sports and also manage to be a good student and citizen outside of athletics.

Donny packed a lot of sports into his 15 years.  His freshman year he played football, wrestled, and soccer for Herndon High while managing travel soccer, indoor soccer, and league basketball in his spare time. He ran some races too though he never ran a marathon, but I can tell you it was like running a marathon trying to keep up with him.

So,  on this Throwback Thursday, we honor the lives of two great athletes now gone, our Donny and Doug White.

And congratulations to Riley Ball and Azhar Ramadham, the young woman and young man who helped to keep Donny’s competitive spirit alive by earning this year’s Donny Soberdash Athletic Scholarships.

 

Oh, and in case you were wondering, we ran the 10 miler.

 

Doug White in 2014
Kim and I before the race
Doug’s Gary P. Lister 10 Miler award given to Kim

 

One Of Those Kinds of Guys

One Of Those Kinds of Guys

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I am exhausted.

It’s my brother’s fault.

My brother Gary turned 58 last Monday.

He is one of those kinds of guys that turn 58 but look like they are 38.

I hate those kinds of guys.

When I called him to wish him a happy birthday he says to me, “yeah…I’m back riding my bike and doing 100 push-ups a day.”

Excuse me? What was the part after “riding my bike” I thought to myself?

“Five sets of twenty,” he went on to explain.

One hundred push-ups a day?

I am not sure I could do one hundred of anything let alone push-ups.

But not to be outdone, the next morning I got up and said to myself, well if he can do it, I can do it.

But I couldn’t.

I did five.

And then an hour later I did seven.

The next day I was at it again. Though this time on my first attempt to get down on the floor my back gave out and I had to regroup for a few minutes.

Once stabilized, I did seven.

And then an hour later I did seven more.

Today, a week later, I am up to two sets of twelve, greatly assisted by my belly which tends to help me reach the bottom of the push-up faster.

I am not sure what my goal is with this.  To do one hundred a day?

Maybe.

 

It was a good weekend. Keeping with the theme of not to be outdone by my younger brother, Kim and I did a 20 mile ride on our bikes on Saturday.  And, I got five compliments on my new Yuengling cycling jersey that Hayley gave me for Christmas from other riders.

The Preakness was this weekend also.  After the debacle of the Kentucky Derby, the anticipation of the Preakness generated about as much excitement as a $2500 claiming race at Charles Town.  But I watched. And it was not without controversy either since a horse named Bodexpress, who probably had as good a shot as any of them, lost his jockey coming out of the starting gate.   It looked to me like the assistant starter forgot to let go of the horse when the gate opened.  Thankfully all were okay though I am sure all Bodexpress’ humans were greatly disappointed.  Bodexpress however looked like he had fun and finished the race like he thought he was supposed to.

Then On Sunday, to mix up the routine a little, Kim and I walked 10 miles on the bike trail.

The result of all of this activity is however…

I’m tired.

And my legs are reminding me that I am 62, about to be 63 in a month.

And I am realistic enough to know that I will probably never do one hundred push-ups a day.

In fact right now my primary goal is to get down on the floor and be able to get back up again.

I don’t want to set my sights too high.

And like Bodexpress, I may not be the winner but I will finish the race and have fun, like I think I am supposed to.

 

And besides, I have a cool bike jersey.

I’ll bet my brother doesn’t have one of those.

The X Factor and the Greatest Twenty Two Minutes in Sports

The X Factor and the Greatest Twenty Two Minutes in Sports

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Dr. Thomas Swerczek, head pathologist at the University of Kentucky, did not weigh Secretariat’s heart, but stated, “We just stood there in stunned silence.  We couldn’t believe it. The heart was perfect.  There were no problems with it.  It was just this huge engine.”

According to Wikipedia the average horse heart weighs 7.9 pounds.  Though they do say it could weigh twice that weight.

An extremely large heart in a horse is a trait that occasionally occurs in thoroughbreds.  It is hypothesized to be linked to a genetic condition referred to as the “x factor” and is traced to the historic racehorse Eclipse.  After his death in 1789 Eclipse’s heart was found to larger than most and weighed 14 pounds

Secretariat’s heart was estimated to weigh 22 pounds.  Secretariat was a freak.

It is said that pedigree research traces Secretariat’s lineage on his mother’s side to a daughter of Eclipse.

Yesterday, for the first time in the 145 year history of the Kentucky Derby, the winner was disqualified for a racing foul.

The winner was a horse named Maximum Security.

Maximum Security ran his first race in December as a two year old and won a $16,000 Maiden Claiming race at Gulfstream in Florida.  From that humble beginning he went on to win three more races including the Florida Derby wire to wire.  In other words he led from start to finish.

Wednesday evening I sat down with my printed copy of the Racing Form to begin my studying as I would typically do before derby day.  After watching his performance in the Florida Derby, next to Maximum Security’s name I wrote the word Freak with a question mark.

This horse in my opinion was potentially a freak.  Another Secretariat maybe.  Another possible Triple Crown winner. He was undefeated in his young life, his running style to go to the front and win wire to wire.

If he could win the Kentucky Derby in this fashion, maybe he would prove to be something special, something historic.

 

In my forty years of following thoroughbred horse racing, a jockey’s objection rarely led to a change in the finish in the race.  A racing stewards’ inquiry generally did however.  But in this case there was no stewards’ inquiry.  But twenty two minutes after “the greatest two minutes in sports” the racing stewards agreed with the jockey’s objection and Maximum Security, number seven in the race, was disqualified from his first place finish and placed 17th.

For me that was a long 22 minutes.  You see, the 3, 7, 19, and 20 (Country House who finished second was number 20) were the horses I chose to be in my exacta.  At least at the time that’s what I thought.

Because this morning when I was writing this, I decided to look back at my account and revisit what could have been.  To my surprise, I learned that the actual numbers that I boxed were 3,8,19, and 20.  Apparently I had made a mistake and punched in 8 instead of 7.  Another Sir Sydney moment for me, only this time it didn’t have the happy ending.

When I showed this to Kim this morning she said, “See, God spared you the disappointment.”

My wife is right about many things, I think she has the x factor.

Because the only thing I think that would be more disappointing than having your winning exacta disqualified, would be having your winning exacta not disqualified and then learning that you mistakenly bet the wrong numbers.

The sad thing about all this is we may never know how good this horse really is.  How would he have compared to Secretariat?  Would we have had a new national obsession?  Another Triple Crown winner?

It is true Maximum Security will now be something historic, but unfortunately not for the reasons that might have been.