Wet Heat

HOT! Not so much bothered by the temperature in the high 80's, just the humidity in the 80% range.  Slept crappy with the temperature so high and the dorm sweltering.  Local leaders welcomed us today.  Took pointless survey number one and saw the lost Monarch of which I wrote yesterday.  How do Monarchs (or other animals for that matter) know which direction to travel?  I know there are multiple answers, but its just interesting to ponder.

It Begins

Flew away from gloomy, overcast city of Great Falls like a misguided Monarch.  Landed in the land of left-handed mittens, where Millers grind barley and all cheese squeaks.  The Trib said the governor saw us off, he must own a fancy Lord of the Rings cloak.  Too bad, I hoped to catch a glimpse of the famed bolo tie.  I wonder if he has a bolo rack like many men have a selection of ties.  I guess there could be different materials for the tie and the pendant portion could be different stones, bones, etc.

Adventure, start!

Athletic Goals

I've set forth on a running journey with a number of goals in mind.  First, I aim at completing a marathon in April or May, 2011.  My super-great, everything-goes-as-planned and I run faster than ever imaginable would qualify me for the Boston Marathon (3:10:00).  Realistically, I'm aiming at the four hour mark, while pushing for something slightly more special.

Secondly, I've decided that finishing an Ironman Triathalon (2.4 mile swim, 112 mile bike, 26.2 mile run) sits as a goal on the horizon.  Cut-off times exist for each discipline as well as a 17-hours overall time limit.  Considering I have no idea how long it takes me to ride one mile (much less 112), and I'm not sure I can swim 50 meters anymore I haven't set a time goal for this other than completion within the allotted time frame.  Furthermore, I anticipate participation in numerous shorter sprint, Olympic, and half-Ironman within the next few years as preparation for one of the most grueling individual athletic tests of our day.

Finally, any and all encouragement/advice/comments/cheering in the coming months and years are always welcome and usually encouraged.

Premier Storage

Found a storage unit with great security, friendly staff, and oodles of discounts. Additionally, if you're looking for somewhere to store some stuff we've got coupons to get the first month's rent free and a lock (they use fancy in-door locks which normally cost $10). It's definitely in Hillsboro, but the 25% discount on the first six months and free use of their moving truck makes them worth considering.  The storage area's also climate controlled and they play music so your furniture doesn't get cold, hot, or lonely.

So, if you're looking for storage just ask for a coupon and we'll hook you up.

Premier Storage

Average Airman

Two weeks from today marks a new chapter's beginning as I embark on a deployment as a member of the U.S. Air Force. I am an average Airman. No particular portion of my duties puts me at any higher risk than anyone else. And I am a Staff Sergeant (exactly in the middle of all enlisted ranks). Most would consider my role in the military essential, yet barely military (the carrying of a weapon to work probably tips the scale toward military).

Today the gravity of my situation pulled slightly as I said goodbye to my day-job and collected a number of email addresses to "keep in touch." The idea that I'm off to war exists as a surrealist projection miles away, poised to bitch-slap me when I'm least prepared. Mostly, I'm feeling anxious to start a new occupation (compared to the monotony of the last years), excited for what may or may not occur, and relieved that my income will get a hefty boost (both from higher base pay and the exemption from taxes while deployed). The next nine months promise a roller-coaster of adventure, and I'm ready for the ride.

Each time the thought of someone trying to kill me crosses my mind it pushes me to live my life. Since learning of my deployment, I've taken each opportunity as it presents itself (actually seeking out areas for growth) and become even more "C'est la vie!" than before when it comes to the little things. I've been motivated to do more, be more, and simply live more; basically because a small fear lingers on the horizon. (I don't think anyone going to war can deny at least a minute presence of fear.)

Throughout the coming months, I'll use The Daily Scott to give you a vision of war through the eyes of An Average Airman. I realize this post comes across as discombobulated feelings distantly connected to war, which points exactly to my physical and emotional state at this point. The distance closes quickly as I prepare for the challenge. Come along.

Generation Lost

On a trip to Barnes & Noble this evening I purchased Frances Hodgson Burnett's "The Secret Garden." (As a side note, I hate the different rules for underlining/quotationing/highlighting/bolding different titles based on whether a piece of literature is classified as book/novel/bible/magazine/toilet paper.) Back to The Secret Garden and the reason behind the purchase (beside its classification as a classic and costing a minuscule $5.95). As my Grandma Strah's favorite book, it exists as a link to generation's past. I'll read every word with thoughts of my recently passed grandmother and find her and discover each ounce of her that remains. This grasping comes with the feeling of near-regret for missed opportunities and time misspent. The impact deepens with the realization that a complete generation of my direct family no longer shares this life.

My Grandma Strah loved sewing, frogs, “Boots,” Bud Light, thimbles, and most of all family. Her maternal powers and ever-giving heart melded four generations. She lived through The Great Depression, World War II, and countless other Worldly tragedies. Most impressively, she cared for her husband for thirteen years after his stroke before his death. While the hospital retained her handicapped husband she walked to visit him nightly, until they allowed him respite at home. In fact, she attained a driver’s license in her mid-forties, years after Boots’ (my grandpa) stroke. No person entering her home didn't immediately become family and you left knowing that you had joined. This 4th of July, for the first time in my life, (26 years) I found the front door locked when I went to use the bathroom. I'd begun to suspect the lock missing on that particular door.  Sadly, I've discovered, it functions.

Bella

Bella, our favorite neighbor (by far), visits us from the prison of her porch, but greets us excitedly at least once each day.  As punishment, her siblings set her free (I hope you feel the sarcasm of the word choice here) to either one of two 4' X 8' second-story patios for hours on end.  Bella's journeys nearly always run short on water and food exists as a mere memory of hours past. 

However, as Bella's self-proclaimed god-parent she greets me with kisses and happiness on every occasion.  Somehow, through yelling parents, jaded siblings, and a drugged-out uncle she maintains the sweetest personality one could ask for.  Its a shame such a wonderful creature came into this situation.  But, I'll continually receive her kisses and happiness as reminders of the spirit which refuses sadness and perpetually celebrates life and joy. 

The Runner's High?

Formerly, the term "runner's high" brought a grin to my face and a smirk to my heart as I imagined some skinny (the sometimes unhealthy-looking runner-skinny) guy smoking a joint just before heading out for a long run.  Obviously, this most literal of interpretations most-likely offends runners and possibly offends your friendly neighborhood stoner as well.

Recently, I've discovered my mistake.  Through my training, I've reached that oh-so-blessed state-of-mind (completely legally, of course).  Bliss arrives with the first good sweat and lasts until you give in to your legs' cry for mercy.  Each runner's high must presumably differ in ways I'm unsure.  But, I assure you, this fairy tale land exists.  I have visited.

My personal running land exists each day as a blank canvas.  Awaiting my wandering mind, free from boundaries, reality, or pessimism.  A neural amusement park unbounded by laws of physics and still untamed by my rookie status as "Runner."  Each day promises new opportunity to explore and learn this land beyond.  I look forward to knowing you better, peaceful state of mind.