Change

First things first, I failed in my goal to make writing here a regular thing. There. I said it. If you're still here, join me in moving on.

Many exciting events have transpired in recent months. I won't bore you with minute details, but here are some highlights in no particular order...

-My good friend Bill Webb organized a trip to the eastern Sierra Nevada Mountains in late June. We summited Middle Palisade (my first 14'er) and had a brief but amazing hike through the bristlecone pine forest in the White Mountains. The oldest living organism in the world, the oldest tree turned 4,768 this year! Some of the dead trees were dated back 9,000+ years. Unbelievable. Pictures from this trip are here.

- I quit my job of 3 years, which I loathed more often than not. I was essentially working as a non-credentialed band teacher at a high school that had far more potential for excellence than it knew what to do with. Misused resources, ineptitude of leadership, fear-based instruction, skewed focus are among some of my constructive criticisms. I'd like to state for the record that the future of artistic integrity is SCREWED if this program serves as any sort of flagship for the state of music education in our public schools. Thankfully this is most likely not the case.

- I took part in one of San Diego's most hallowed (in my professional opinion) traditions. The Annual Red Dress Run (25th year?) was something I had heard of occasionally, but never had a direct way of getting involved until Kelly managed to find sponsors for our group. What an absolute riot. 500+ people all dressed/undressed in various shades/styles of red dresses, running rampant through downtown San Diego. People along the sidewalks watching, cheering, taking pictures, etc. Dana and I went dress shopping and I think I ripped at least 3 dresses in the changing room. We finally settled on a stunning number that really drew out my god-given attributes and found an amazing red belt to match. This belt became the greatest thing known to man. I managed to get 73% of the hottest girls at the run to get inside the belt with me (yes it was that big). But my heart (and now my belt) will always belong to Goldamer, my #1 belt lady. I guess you never forget your first... Apparently they were serving alcohol at various stop points throughout downtown SD. Apparently I drank a lot of it. Apparently I was demanding that people use my belt for spanking at the post-run party. But these are all baseless rumors that no amount of picture evidence could prove true.

-I played in what were supposedly my last ultimate frisbee tournaments this summer. Rumor has it this will not be the case..
-I played on an all-star pickup team at Pleasuretown Throwdown in San Diego. This was easily in the top 10 funnest tournaments of all time. Our team name was Cowabunga!, inspired by the literary and cinematic milestone known as Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Heavily stocked with great players, ninja cocktails, name and color coordinated head/wrist/knee bands, catchphrases, movie soundtracks, and moves from Vanilla Ice's dance from TMNT II, we were ostentatious and bodacious! We made it to the finals, losing to a LA team by a few points. It was disappointing to lose, given the talent on our team, but it was still an epic weekend.
I think I had a great time for a few reasons- 1) I felt great physically (more on this in a minute) and 2) It was so relieving to play with no expectations. The past few years I've worked myself up about the competitive season, almost to a point of not having any fun playing- feeling like it was an expectation to be committed at the expense of my true love for the game. This tournament was so laid back that I caught myself feeling uncomfortable on a few occasions. Like I should be ashamed for just enjoying the moment. Weird.
- I made it up to San Francisco on a whirlwind trip and played with Brown Chicken Brown Cow, a new team comprised of LA, SF, etc. people. This was a 1 day tournament with only 7 teams, but we had 4 games in the heat with a very small roster. More playing time than I was used to.. We got to play the Australian National Coed team, which was a great privilege (especially since we were the only team there who beat them!). This was probably one of my better tournaments in recent history- I felt physically strong and mentally focused. Some friends on the team asked me to play at Regionals, and since I now live in the area (more on that in a minute), I took this weekend as an opportunity to get to know the team- playing styles, personalities, etc. Needless to say that if I'm free that weekend, I'll be on the roster.

- I made good on a personal promise/goal to get in shape. After several years of ebbing and flowing, progressing and relapsing, I finally said FUCK it. I decided that it was time to finally be comfortable with my physical (and to an extent, my mental and spiritual) self for the long term. Up until this point, I used the competitive frisbee season as my motivation to get in shape. Track workouts, running, lifting, etc., all to be more of an asset to a team. Going back to what I said before about losing contact with my love of the sport, I always looked at conditioning as a chore- something to do at a specific time and place. Do these workouts before this date. Run the mile at this time by this date. This was fine at the time, but as soon as the season was over I allowed myself to relapse. I had no reason to keep pushing myself. There was no continuity.
In January, I started a weekly running club, did some big hikes (solo trip in Big Sur, a 2-day 30 mile hike through Sequoia National Forest, among others), some big bike rides, started eating healthier. I started reaping rewards in small doses- I felt better, I looked forward to working out, to being outside. I strengthened some friendships, made new running friends, etc. I started holding myself accountable.
Fast forward to now. I stepped on a scale the other day for the first time in months. I was pleased to see myself hovering just above 200 lbs, 203 to be exact. I try to not dwell on numbers in this context- it's how you feel, how you perform that counts- but this was pretty meaningful for me. A year ago I was closer to 230- in recent years I had topped out at 240. Pathetic in hindsight, but I only resurrect it for comparison. I don't think I've been in such physical condition in the last 10 years. Maybe ever.
Not too long ago someone asked me what I was training for. I stopped to think about this question for a second before responding, "Life." I've fought myself and my self-destructive tendencies for so long, and I don't have an infinite amount of time to continue fighting. I want to be done looking at life as a series of isolated linear events. I am more interested in a constant and holistic approach to progress. Sounds idealistic. But that's life. And that's what I'm training for.

- I left San Diego. It was difficult. Crying in front of your friends is strange.

- I'm mere days away from beginning my Master's Degree in Saxophone Performance at the University of Northern Colorado. It will be difficult.

- Nothing worth doing is easy.

- En route to Colorado I met up with my father and two brothers for an epic man trip. The timing couldn't have been more perfect. My old man had just earned his M.B.A. (congrats!), Joe was just about to start another school year (he's almost finished with an engineering degree), Michael was about to turn 18 and sign his life away to the Air Force, and I was driving cross country with all my worldly possessions packed into a Toyota Corolla. We spent a night at Zion National Park in Utah (one of my favorite places on earth) and did a nice day hike up Angel's Landing on a beautiful Friday morning. Drove to the North Rim of the Grand Canyon and camped Friday night. Saturday morning was an early departure for the Cottonwood Campground, 7 miles and 5,000+ft below the canyon rim. It became clear to the majority of our group that this was much, much bigger than expected. The trail was STEEP, it got HOT early, and we were carrying full packs. We made it to the campground in the early afternoon, just in time for a midday nap in the heat. Yuck. I went on a side hike with my brothers to Ribbon Falls, a beautiful waterfall nestled in a grotto a little ways off the trail. Standing under the falls was such a simple blessing in the heat- easily in the top 5 showers of all time.
Our permits allowed us two nights at Cottonwood, and we had initially planned a long hike on Sunday- from Cottonwood to the Colorado River and back (14 miles round trip)- before packing out on Monday. But we reevaluated the situation and decided that it would be smarter and safer to cancel that part of our trip. Our options were to sit at the campground for another day with nothing to do but sweat, or hike out in the morning and return to Zion. The latter plan won out, and we left early Sunday morning for a return to the rim. This was a good hike. We kept the pace easy and stuck to a very structured break schedule. Bottom line, everyone made it out safely- no injuries (blows to the ego not included), no heat-illness. We made it back to Zion and spent Sunday night under the glowing stars.
I departed late Monday morning, and opted for a scenic route through Southern Utah. This was a good aesthetic decision. But it added several hours to my day, especially since I started having car trouble in the middle of nowhere. Turns out (I HOPE) that I was burning a bad tank of gas, and the problem disappeared several gallons of premium gas, bottles of Heet, hours of fretting later. I made it to Fort Collins around 3 am on Tuesday morning, after 15 hours of driving.. Pictures from the trip are here.

So here I sit, in my new apartment in a new town. Soon to make new friends and enemies. Soon to be overwhelmed. Soon to discover new fears, weaknesses, and biases. Soon to find the strength to grow. I'll keep you posted.