Another day, another lesson in parenthood. We are lucky. Five years ago, when my wife found our house, I had no idea how great the house/yard/neighborhood, was going to be. When you consider the grief I have given her for some of the failings of our house, this is my mea culpa.
Picture this. Ruby is in the neighbor's backyard, bugging her about her garden and playing with her little friend. Alice and I are in the kitchen, peeling potato's, readying them to boil. Mango (the dog) is pressing her cold nose to my leg in an effort to induce me to throw the ball, repeatedly dropping it at my feet. It's a perfect spring day with a slight breeze, big puffy clouds, the smell of freshly cut grass, and my new Ozomatli album spinning on the record player. At that moment my day is like a lake first thing in the morning, the water is glass and the calmness is radiating, until...
DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAD!
I look out the window over the sink and see Ruby hung up on the fence. This is not that uncommon of a sight but she is crying. I assume she has just got her pants caught on top of the fence and is stuck. So I saunter out to her, already lecturing, "Ruby you have to yell for me before you climb the fence, remember?" As I arrive, I soon realize that she has scratched herself pretty good but she seems to be in more pain than a scratch. We head inside so I can get a better look at her and I pull her left leg pant up. Oh damn. I'm starring at what appears to be an inch long tear, on the left inside of her thigh. When she was lifting her leg up and over the fence to climb down, it had caught on the sharp part of the fence and snagged her. Her weight (all 35lbs) had torn it a bit. Now, I feel like an idiot.
Thank god there is not much blood, but I can tell it hurts. We clean it off with a washcloth, my grandmother would be proud, and all she wants is a bandaid. I add some antibiotic cream to the bandaid, under Ruby's protests she says it makes it sting, and make the phone call to Emily.
"So babe, Ruby cut her leg on the fence."
"Is she okay?"
"I think so but I want you to decide if I should take her to urgent care."
"I'll be there in a couple of minutes."
So mom gets home and comes upstairs to look at it. Ruby is done crying and is trying to convince us that she should just stay home and lay in bed. Mind you she is four and has a substantial flesh wound that needs attention. Our consensus is that we need to take her to the urgent care. At this point it is decided that I will stay home with Alice and finish dinner, the potato's are still boiling, but Ruby wants me to go with her and mom to stay home. For some reason, pride probably, I'm glad she picked me to go. Hell, I'm partially responsible for this mess, I should be there to clean it up.
We get to urgent care and show the receptionist her leg and they move us into the triage room and take her vitals. I find it interesting that they must know her weight, blood pressure, temperature, and height, to assess her leg but I digress. Up to this point the nurses have done a great job not using the "stitches" word. Ruby really doesn't know what they are but in her mind the hurt like hell and she wants nothing to do with them. Well they usher us into room ten and another nurse comes in and says to Ruby, "can I look at your leg?" She shows her and the nurse says to our usher, "take her into the main room so they can use the light for stitches." You could see the blood rush out of Ruby's face and the anticipation was rapidly turning into dread. I abruptly remedy this predicament with my wonderful tack as I tell Ruby, "don't worry, she has no idea what she is talking about." Stares from the nurse.
So we get into the main room and another nurse comes in with the doctor who also wants to take a look at it. This doc had to touch the wound and poke at it to decide the best course of action. This does not endear himself to her, but I'm in constant communication with Ruby trying to justify his actions and calm her down. Next, they clean and sterilize the wound. Again, not too pleasant but she keeps a stiff upper lip and negotiates the giant plastic syringe as a parting gift and future bath toy. The clear anesthetic is graciously applied and we have to wait thirty minutes for the fun to begin. I know she is getting stitches but all Ruby knows is the the doctor is going to "fix" her up. Around this time Ruby looks at me and says, "Dad, I think we should go home." "Good try."
The doc enters along with two more nurses. Ruby's on the bed, I'm standing next to her holding both her hands, one nurse stands next to her to help the doctor, and a nurse at each leg. Is this necessary? Absolutely. So the doctor starts pulling and prodding to see if a flap of skin had curled under the rest of the skin. Yes it had. Ruby can't see what is going on but she is getting red and starting to cry and is scared more than anything. I keep telling her to look at me. The doctor then turns and picks up the sutures and has a scissors to cut them to length.
"DON'T CUT ME!!!" Ruby yells out.
We reassure her that he is not going to cut her but has to cut the string. He repeats this motion two more times and again she protests being cut. I try to be as honest as possible with my kids within reason and I decide to take this route again.
"Ruby, do you want to know what he is doing with that string?"
"Yes."
"You are getting stitches."
More tears and now two fingers in her mouth. After a few more minutes, Ruby is the proud owner of her first five stitches. When you play hard like her first is truly understandable. After an enjoyable popsicle and some instructions on care, we are free to go. My god she is a little trooper. She wants to call her grandpa and grandma to let them know what happened and how tough she is. I mean come on you have to tell people about it.
Finally we get home, eat some dinner, and since I feel like a jerk for not fixing that fence prior to this, she gets to lay with us in bed and watch a movie.
"So, I'm sorry about your leg. Is everything okay?"
"It's okay. I'm tough."
Yes you are.
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Sometimes shorter is better...
Exciting and stressful times for beingbenkeefe. There are a plethora of things I want to hit on but have decided to do a series of four posts in the next week or so to attempt to give enough time to each of them.
Running a 10K fast is easier than running a marathon slow. Let's start with the obvious.
a. six miles is twenty less than twenty six.
b. forty minutes is three hours less than three hours and forty minutes.
c. being able to take a shower because lucifer's tines aren't stabbing into my feet when water touches them is refreshing.
The event was the Run for Mercy 5K, 10K, and Fun Run at Mill Valley High School in Shawnee, Kansas. The company I work for was a sponsor and I used one of our exemptions to run in the 10K. The pendulum of life swings back and forth and we can keep it from swinging too far in either direction by keeping our side clean. That being said, I offered my lovely wife and oldest daughter to work at the water/aid station that we were sponsoring. A win-win for all parties. My wife got to meet some of my coworkers, my eldest got exposure to the fun of running and hydration, and we all got the chance to spend the morning having a good time while secretly hoping to influence future life choices toward fitness. (mind you the only influencing at this point in their lives would be the four year old)
A series of firsts for me at this race. They usually have pacers but at this event they held up signs so you can get in the proper pace group. I'm cool with that, so I gathered with the five other dudes that were hoping to run 7:00 minute miles. Having never run a 10K race I figured I can run twenty six at 8:00 minutes a mile, so surely I can take a minute off that pace for six. Looking around I quickly realized we were the five guys at the front of the race, at the starting line. Usually all the guys with really long legs, short torsos, and dark completions are at the front, for me this was not where I normally am. Well the cock crowed, or some old South African crowed, and the race started. Seriously, that is the tradition at this race. Instead of a gun, or cannon (see Olathe) they have a guy who crows.
We went out fast, probably not fast for the others, but when you are used to starting at a slow pace and speeding up, I felt like I was sprinting. So did my lungs, I was laboring to breath about a mile in and haven't had that experience ever in long distance running. I settled in around mile two and then thought, "damn this isn't so bad and I'm almost done." Breaking races up into four mile segments is my typical mindset. This is a hold over from high school soccer. We had to run four miles in thirty minutes the first day of tryouts, any time I get to four miles left in anything those memories become my motivation.
I kept having a strange sensation that I was doing something wrong. With only five guys ahead of me I felt out of place. Typically, I am mired in the above average column with runners who are fast enough to be better than average but not quite fast enough to be really good. My legs felt fatigued near mile five but good lord, with only one mile to go, I can muddle through this and keep my cadence high. We turned down the final street and merged with the 5K'ers who started ten minutes after us, and the thrill was rapidly being sucked from my visions of grandeur. The triumphant loner, pushing himself to the finish line, cheered on by the masses lining the street, was erased with tens and tens of tweens, middle aged women, lots and lots of middle aged women, stealing my moment of glory.
I came across at 39:23, fifth place overall, first place in my age group, and with a 6:20 per mile clip. The best finish in the standings I've ever had for a race since high school. No finisher medals at this one and the disappointment was palpable...until my wife pointed out the sweet trophy I won, which is now sitting on the shelf in my garage by some weed and feed.
Once again a good time had by all, more sweet t-shirts, Chris Cakes pancakes for the wife and kido, and sugar-free Red Bull for dad.
Then I thought, you know sometimes shorter is better.
Running a 10K fast is easier than running a marathon slow. Let's start with the obvious.
a. six miles is twenty less than twenty six.
b. forty minutes is three hours less than three hours and forty minutes.
c. being able to take a shower because lucifer's tines aren't stabbing into my feet when water touches them is refreshing.
The event was the Run for Mercy 5K, 10K, and Fun Run at Mill Valley High School in Shawnee, Kansas. The company I work for was a sponsor and I used one of our exemptions to run in the 10K. The pendulum of life swings back and forth and we can keep it from swinging too far in either direction by keeping our side clean. That being said, I offered my lovely wife and oldest daughter to work at the water/aid station that we were sponsoring. A win-win for all parties. My wife got to meet some of my coworkers, my eldest got exposure to the fun of running and hydration, and we all got the chance to spend the morning having a good time while secretly hoping to influence future life choices toward fitness. (mind you the only influencing at this point in their lives would be the four year old)
A series of firsts for me at this race. They usually have pacers but at this event they held up signs so you can get in the proper pace group. I'm cool with that, so I gathered with the five other dudes that were hoping to run 7:00 minute miles. Having never run a 10K race I figured I can run twenty six at 8:00 minutes a mile, so surely I can take a minute off that pace for six. Looking around I quickly realized we were the five guys at the front of the race, at the starting line. Usually all the guys with really long legs, short torsos, and dark completions are at the front, for me this was not where I normally am. Well the cock crowed, or some old South African crowed, and the race started. Seriously, that is the tradition at this race. Instead of a gun, or cannon (see Olathe) they have a guy who crows.
We went out fast, probably not fast for the others, but when you are used to starting at a slow pace and speeding up, I felt like I was sprinting. So did my lungs, I was laboring to breath about a mile in and haven't had that experience ever in long distance running. I settled in around mile two and then thought, "damn this isn't so bad and I'm almost done." Breaking races up into four mile segments is my typical mindset. This is a hold over from high school soccer. We had to run four miles in thirty minutes the first day of tryouts, any time I get to four miles left in anything those memories become my motivation.
I kept having a strange sensation that I was doing something wrong. With only five guys ahead of me I felt out of place. Typically, I am mired in the above average column with runners who are fast enough to be better than average but not quite fast enough to be really good. My legs felt fatigued near mile five but good lord, with only one mile to go, I can muddle through this and keep my cadence high. We turned down the final street and merged with the 5K'ers who started ten minutes after us, and the thrill was rapidly being sucked from my visions of grandeur. The triumphant loner, pushing himself to the finish line, cheered on by the masses lining the street, was erased with tens and tens of tweens, middle aged women, lots and lots of middle aged women, stealing my moment of glory.
I came across at 39:23, fifth place overall, first place in my age group, and with a 6:20 per mile clip. The best finish in the standings I've ever had for a race since high school. No finisher medals at this one and the disappointment was palpable...until my wife pointed out the sweet trophy I won, which is now sitting on the shelf in my garage by some weed and feed.
Once again a good time had by all, more sweet t-shirts, Chris Cakes pancakes for the wife and kido, and sugar-free Red Bull for dad.
Then I thought, you know sometimes shorter is better.
Monday, April 12, 2010
Olathe Marathon - the crossroads to adventure...
The terms Olathe and adventure are a combination similar to meth addiction and dentists. While separately they stand on their own, together they surely are at a crossroads.
All these terms quite nicely describe my raceday.
5:30am - alarm goes off and it's time to get ready for the race. All that requires for me is putting on some attire, more on that in a minute, and jumping in the car.
5:45am - Stop at QT and grab a banana and RockStar energy drink. (sugar free, I'm mean who wants all those empty calories.)
6:25am - Arrive at Garmin HQ in Olathe KS. 45 minutes to get to the other side of Kansas City on a highway with no traffic. Olathe is on the other side of the moon for me.
6:30am - Race prep. USA Flag bandana folded as headband, stars facing out for effect. KC Marathon, moisture wicking, "finisher" shirt. It's like a teardrop tattoo for marathoners. Orange and black, short racing shorts, tiny, ankle style black socks, and my hair pulled up into a short ponytail on top of my head. (you can't rep 1996 Cape Central style any other way)
7:00am - GO!!!!!! It was supposed to be a BOOOOOOOOOOOOM, but the cannon didn't work. It's Kansas what can you expect.
7:30am - Settled into a nice pace, perfect weather, started out about upper 40's and will end at upper 60's. With the exception of the head wind for the last four miles, absolutely perfect conditions.
8:00am - Can feel the blister starting to grow on the back of my left heel and inside my right arch. I should have seen this coming but I like to add an insole I've never worn in my shoe the night before for extra cushioning. Some would tell you this is a bad idea, some would just say I'm an idiot. All the same, my shoes had about 1500 miles on them at this point so I was determined to get one more race out of them. I like them worn out and believe I accomplished that end.
9:00am - Half way done. My 3:30:00 pacer is behind me now, but is switching out anyway. 95% of my runs are done by myself so running alone is my preferred method. I'm about 1:44:00 at this point so I'm on pace.
9:15am - I'm on the out and back now. Mile 14 to 22 are out on a running/biking/walking trail You run out about four on the right and back four on the left. Shadowy, quiet, not many spectators, a twisty creek that smells like fish, and the occasional aid station. About mile 16 the first marathon passes me going the other way. "Nice work," I yell. "Bastard," under my breath.
10:00am - The 3:30:00 pace group catches me. The term pace group is being liberally applied here considering it was a pace couple and when I joined we became a group. Thank God that I managed to put some distance between them and me up to this point. We have about 3.5 miles left and plenty of time to make it. My brisk cadence was turning into a slight shuffle and I needed those guys to help pull me along.
10:20am - One mile left and a little less than ten minutes to make my goal. I can do this. The official pacer is gone. He had to slow down to make sure anyone trying to make that goal would have someone there. The other gentleman with us took off with two miles left. He obviously had more left than me and considering he had a tank top on and short shorts, shows his dedication.
10:29:15am - "Go Daddy Go!!!!" I love my Ruby. For the first time in three marathons, one 50K and two half marathons my wife and kids made it to the finish line to see me cross it. Ruby in her bright red Curious George shirt, Alice in her stroller, Emily with her nervous expression on her face and my Mom filming it with her camera.
10:29:24am - It's over. A new PR 3:29:24. I'm exhausted but not crying. I usually break down somewhat emotionally at the end of these things. It's just pure joy and thankfulness that I have the God given ability to do these things, the genetic gifts to do it, and the mental makeup to overcome my own doubts.
Here is what I learned. Make sure to thank the cops and the volunteers that stand at the corners and tell you where to go, block traffic, and give you encouragement. Saying, "thanks officer" is a tiny karma boost you can cash in later. Secondly, don't get too pissed if you are in that line of traffic that is waiting for a group of runners to cross the intersection. The five minutes of inconvenience is nothing compared to the sacrifices both the runners and their loved ones make for them to meet a life goal. Give high fives to as many kids as you can who are out on the course watching. The appearance of having a good time can go along way toward the future fitness of a youngster even if you are miserable on the inside. Finally, pray every few miles and make a mental thank you list for everything you have.
10:45:00am - Sitting on some folding chairs, shoes untied, feeling a nice cool breeze, soaking up the warmth of the sun, eating a banana, Ruby turns to me and says, "Good job Dad." Life is good.
All these terms quite nicely describe my raceday.
5:30am - alarm goes off and it's time to get ready for the race. All that requires for me is putting on some attire, more on that in a minute, and jumping in the car.
5:45am - Stop at QT and grab a banana and RockStar energy drink. (sugar free, I'm mean who wants all those empty calories.)
6:25am - Arrive at Garmin HQ in Olathe KS. 45 minutes to get to the other side of Kansas City on a highway with no traffic. Olathe is on the other side of the moon for me.
6:30am - Race prep. USA Flag bandana folded as headband, stars facing out for effect. KC Marathon, moisture wicking, "finisher" shirt. It's like a teardrop tattoo for marathoners. Orange and black, short racing shorts, tiny, ankle style black socks, and my hair pulled up into a short ponytail on top of my head. (you can't rep 1996 Cape Central style any other way)
7:00am - GO!!!!!! It was supposed to be a BOOOOOOOOOOOOM, but the cannon didn't work. It's Kansas what can you expect.
7:30am - Settled into a nice pace, perfect weather, started out about upper 40's and will end at upper 60's. With the exception of the head wind for the last four miles, absolutely perfect conditions.
8:00am - Can feel the blister starting to grow on the back of my left heel and inside my right arch. I should have seen this coming but I like to add an insole I've never worn in my shoe the night before for extra cushioning. Some would tell you this is a bad idea, some would just say I'm an idiot. All the same, my shoes had about 1500 miles on them at this point so I was determined to get one more race out of them. I like them worn out and believe I accomplished that end.
9:00am - Half way done. My 3:30:00 pacer is behind me now, but is switching out anyway. 95% of my runs are done by myself so running alone is my preferred method. I'm about 1:44:00 at this point so I'm on pace.
9:15am - I'm on the out and back now. Mile 14 to 22 are out on a running/biking/walking trail You run out about four on the right and back four on the left. Shadowy, quiet, not many spectators, a twisty creek that smells like fish, and the occasional aid station. About mile 16 the first marathon passes me going the other way. "Nice work," I yell. "Bastard," under my breath.
10:00am - The 3:30:00 pace group catches me. The term pace group is being liberally applied here considering it was a pace couple and when I joined we became a group. Thank God that I managed to put some distance between them and me up to this point. We have about 3.5 miles left and plenty of time to make it. My brisk cadence was turning into a slight shuffle and I needed those guys to help pull me along.
10:20am - One mile left and a little less than ten minutes to make my goal. I can do this. The official pacer is gone. He had to slow down to make sure anyone trying to make that goal would have someone there. The other gentleman with us took off with two miles left. He obviously had more left than me and considering he had a tank top on and short shorts, shows his dedication.
10:29:15am - "Go Daddy Go!!!!" I love my Ruby. For the first time in three marathons, one 50K and two half marathons my wife and kids made it to the finish line to see me cross it. Ruby in her bright red Curious George shirt, Alice in her stroller, Emily with her nervous expression on her face and my Mom filming it with her camera.
10:29:24am - It's over. A new PR 3:29:24. I'm exhausted but not crying. I usually break down somewhat emotionally at the end of these things. It's just pure joy and thankfulness that I have the God given ability to do these things, the genetic gifts to do it, and the mental makeup to overcome my own doubts.
Here is what I learned. Make sure to thank the cops and the volunteers that stand at the corners and tell you where to go, block traffic, and give you encouragement. Saying, "thanks officer" is a tiny karma boost you can cash in later. Secondly, don't get too pissed if you are in that line of traffic that is waiting for a group of runners to cross the intersection. The five minutes of inconvenience is nothing compared to the sacrifices both the runners and their loved ones make for them to meet a life goal. Give high fives to as many kids as you can who are out on the course watching. The appearance of having a good time can go along way toward the future fitness of a youngster even if you are miserable on the inside. Finally, pray every few miles and make a mental thank you list for everything you have.
10:45:00am - Sitting on some folding chairs, shoes untied, feeling a nice cool breeze, soaking up the warmth of the sun, eating a banana, Ruby turns to me and says, "Good job Dad." Life is good.
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