The stress continues here. The millions of phone calls to get started in Denmark continue. Everything here is so interdependent and automated. It's probably great for when you are already living here but, for us, nothing seems easy. I must have heard variations of the sentence "let me just look up your information from your previous county...". I am impressed with how much they know about me, though. In America, it seems like you can wait for hours while asking about some service, like cable or internet. You tell different people your number, alway having to start over. I was calling a bank the other day and the computer asked me to type in my social security number while I waited for the operator. Two minutes later, the conversation was over and the lady told me that she would send the cards out the same day. Didn't she want my address, I wondered? She had gotten that off my social security number! She even knew I was a doctor. I guess that means no more spelling my street address every time I call anyone.
We are slowly getting settleb. But, boy, do I miss the kids. I tear up several times a day, thinking about something they may say or do. Daughter is coming for a brief visit in less than two months. I am counting the days already. There is a bit of tension between the Girl and me. It can all be boiled down to the fact that I am a hundred times less excited about being here than her. I keep thinking about the first time she asked me about moving to Denmark. "Can't we go there?", she asked. We were trying to fgure out where to go with our careers, both having dropped out of residency. I could have said "No, I can't live that far away from the kids" and it would not have been a topic. A year later, they are pictures on the wall, their inanimate eyes looking at me. I miss them so much I can't bear to think about it.
We were not sure what to do back then. The Girl just had her intern year and I had my internal medicine residency. It would have been impossible for both of us to do what we wanted and stay together. Looking back, I wonder if I should have dropped my own specialty ambitions and let the Girl do her surgical residency. I would not have been 100% happy working in small ERs for the rest of my life but I would have been 95% happy and I would have been closer to the kids.
Well, what's done is done. There are so many things to be excited about and, let's not forget, Daughter is coming to live here, starting this summer. The Girl and I signed up for some races this summer, most importantly the Trans Alpine Race, which sounds insanely cool. The format of runners having to run in pairs makes the race a little less of a peak race for me, as I will be running the whole thing with the Girl. On the other hand, I will be helping her and, probably, push her a lot of the way. We will have to practice running like that.
We also have a cool, new apartment. I am starting a great job. I am currently running injury free. There are several smaller races coming up, including a marathon in 4 weeks. Life is good, if not for that piece of my heart I left behind in Wisconsin.
Friday, December 12, 2008
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
8.2 K race report
This was a small race, which most likely has the same people running it over and over again. It's run the first Saturday of every month with points being tallied up every 6 months. This was the Christmas edition so there were prizes.
I had the gall to ask the race director about the race route. He looked me over and told me just to follow someone else only it came out sounding like: "Well, I don't know how fast you are...". He didn't want to insult me, that is. Very Danish. I replied that I was pretty fast, which was also very Danish for "I actually expect to win so I do need directions". Of course, the Girl broke in with her American carpet bombing mentality and stated (in her beautiful accent) that I would easily win.
A small faux pas on her part. The race director then turned around and asked, with some amusement, how fast she was. To which the little vixen replied (with an accent that would make any man melt): "I am not fast at all".
Of course this had ired some of the Danish chicas, who were all eyeing her up. There she was, with uncombed hair, cotton pants, wearing too much clothing, with (gasp) ear phones in her ears. If the sexy accent was not enough, her over-all "I don't give a damn"-attitude probably annoyed the spandex clad ladies.
I figured I had it won hands down and that the Girl would take third.
We both won, though. I had a pretty easy race and only got lost once. It was near the beginning so waiting for the second place guy was not a big deal. The route was very hilly with a monster hill on the last lap. The Girl came in with a group of guys. We each won 100 Danish Kroner, which is almost 20 dollars. I guess we are pros now.
After the race, we talked to people a bit. It seemed a little bit like we had crashed a party but everyone was very friendly. We ran home. I was getting a little dizzy, while I believe the Girl actually had to stop and soil the Danish land with a little poop.
Good times. Next up is a marathon in a month. That's if we can put in the miles before then. I plan on sandbagging it the first hour, as usual, of course.
I had the gall to ask the race director about the race route. He looked me over and told me just to follow someone else only it came out sounding like: "Well, I don't know how fast you are...". He didn't want to insult me, that is. Very Danish. I replied that I was pretty fast, which was also very Danish for "I actually expect to win so I do need directions". Of course, the Girl broke in with her American carpet bombing mentality and stated (in her beautiful accent) that I would easily win.
A small faux pas on her part. The race director then turned around and asked, with some amusement, how fast she was. To which the little vixen replied (with an accent that would make any man melt): "I am not fast at all".
Of course this had ired some of the Danish chicas, who were all eyeing her up. There she was, with uncombed hair, cotton pants, wearing too much clothing, with (gasp) ear phones in her ears. If the sexy accent was not enough, her over-all "I don't give a damn"-attitude probably annoyed the spandex clad ladies.
I figured I had it won hands down and that the Girl would take third.
We both won, though. I had a pretty easy race and only got lost once. It was near the beginning so waiting for the second place guy was not a big deal. The route was very hilly with a monster hill on the last lap. The Girl came in with a group of guys. We each won 100 Danish Kroner, which is almost 20 dollars. I guess we are pros now.
After the race, we talked to people a bit. It seemed a little bit like we had crashed a party but everyone was very friendly. We ran home. I was getting a little dizzy, while I believe the Girl actually had to stop and soil the Danish land with a little poop.
Good times. Next up is a marathon in a month. That's if we can put in the miles before then. I plan on sandbagging it the first hour, as usual, of course.
Thursday, December 4, 2008
The Old Country
It's been stressful to set up shop here. Every day, it's a million phone calls to get myself and the Girl situated into Danish life. We found an apartment, bought a car. The Girl found a good language course for foreign doctors.
At times, I am excited. Mostly, I think about the kids. As I am typing, I keep glancing over at their pictures on the wall. I talk to Daughter every night on the phone and picture where she is in her room, whether she is sitting or standing. I wonder what it would be like to lift her up and touch her. Leaving them like this is a potent mixture of longing and guilt that often brings tears to my eyes.
I have a recurring fantasy about surprising them after school one day. It's torture, because it won't happen; but I think about the looks on their faces and the night that would ensue. We used to have nights together that I took for granted; trips to the YMCA, books in bed.
It will take some time for me to come to terms with living away from them. Daughter, of course, comes over to live here this summer. I can't wait for that moment when she moves here. Son is still too young to talk to on the phone and I am not sure he understands that we moved away. Towards the end, he would break my heart sometimes with his naive ways. A month or so before the move, we were running together, doing something I can't remember. He stopped and looked up at me and said "I'm a fast runner like you, Papa, because you are my Papa". Near the end, I would pull him close to tell him that it wasn't his fault that I was moving and that I would think about his every day. I told him it was the stupid doctor world, which made us do it. He didn't understand at all.
The Girl seems to be adjusting just fine. It's an adventure for her, of course. She is picking up Danish impressively quickly to the point where she can carry a slow conversation and watch Danish TV. It's a bit of an issue between us, that I would prefer to be in the US with the kids, while she would prefer to be here. I try to be as excited as I can for her sake and, at times, I am truly happy about being here. At the same time, it's brewing under the surface. I feel like if we hit some major setback here I would want to bail immediately, whereas she would want to stay here.
As you can see, it's hard. I think things will be fine in a couple of months.
Running-wise, we are both running lots of slow miles. We have an 8.2K race on Saturday, which looks to be fairly uncompetitive. Someone fast could always show up but I doubt it. There are "Christmas Prizes" so it will be interesting to see what the family brings home. Will post a report.
At times, I am excited. Mostly, I think about the kids. As I am typing, I keep glancing over at their pictures on the wall. I talk to Daughter every night on the phone and picture where she is in her room, whether she is sitting or standing. I wonder what it would be like to lift her up and touch her. Leaving them like this is a potent mixture of longing and guilt that often brings tears to my eyes.
I have a recurring fantasy about surprising them after school one day. It's torture, because it won't happen; but I think about the looks on their faces and the night that would ensue. We used to have nights together that I took for granted; trips to the YMCA, books in bed.
It will take some time for me to come to terms with living away from them. Daughter, of course, comes over to live here this summer. I can't wait for that moment when she moves here. Son is still too young to talk to on the phone and I am not sure he understands that we moved away. Towards the end, he would break my heart sometimes with his naive ways. A month or so before the move, we were running together, doing something I can't remember. He stopped and looked up at me and said "I'm a fast runner like you, Papa, because you are my Papa". Near the end, I would pull him close to tell him that it wasn't his fault that I was moving and that I would think about his every day. I told him it was the stupid doctor world, which made us do it. He didn't understand at all.
The Girl seems to be adjusting just fine. It's an adventure for her, of course. She is picking up Danish impressively quickly to the point where she can carry a slow conversation and watch Danish TV. It's a bit of an issue between us, that I would prefer to be in the US with the kids, while she would prefer to be here. I try to be as excited as I can for her sake and, at times, I am truly happy about being here. At the same time, it's brewing under the surface. I feel like if we hit some major setback here I would want to bail immediately, whereas she would want to stay here.
As you can see, it's hard. I think things will be fine in a couple of months.
Running-wise, we are both running lots of slow miles. We have an 8.2K race on Saturday, which looks to be fairly uncompetitive. Someone fast could always show up but I doubt it. There are "Christmas Prizes" so it will be interesting to see what the family brings home. Will post a report.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Leaving two kids behind
This is the hardest thing I have ever done. The countdown is on. The kids have slept here for the last time; the places where we used to read books together are gone. Their toys are in boxes at their mom's house, or getting ready to be shipped across the ocean.
Daugther knows it's coming; when we talk on the phone she doesn't want to hang up, regardless of which TV shows are on. When she is over by us, she hangs on me, hugging me. She knows she is moving over this summer and has mixed feelings about it. I am sure she just wants her old life to continue but knows it won't happen.
Son doesn't now what's going on. I bet next time I see him, he will still wonder whether I live in the same house (and just stopped having him over). He doesn't think in terms of months or years. He has the same name for Wal-mart and Denmark.
I am leaving two kids behind and it's clouding my mind. I try to be as excited as I can be, for the Girl's sake. I can see why it has to be exciting for her to move to a new country and I want to be excited with her.
We seem to be leading a charmed life. Why are we leaving?
Cons:
Leaving two kids behind.
Living on the good end of unfair in America (ie. making x amount of money more than the CNA who has been there 20 years longer than me and works just as hard). I could never get used to that and just felt so damn guilty all the time.
Pros:
Medical training without the suicide hours. Heme is the cream.
The Lorax will grow up in Denmark.
Daughter will (eventually) re-connect with her Danish side.
The crisp summers. The ocean. The trails for running and biking. The long summer nights.
Traveling to America. A great place to be a tourist.
Being close to my Danish family.
Daugther knows it's coming; when we talk on the phone she doesn't want to hang up, regardless of which TV shows are on. When she is over by us, she hangs on me, hugging me. She knows she is moving over this summer and has mixed feelings about it. I am sure she just wants her old life to continue but knows it won't happen.
Son doesn't now what's going on. I bet next time I see him, he will still wonder whether I live in the same house (and just stopped having him over). He doesn't think in terms of months or years. He has the same name for Wal-mart and Denmark.
I am leaving two kids behind and it's clouding my mind. I try to be as excited as I can be, for the Girl's sake. I can see why it has to be exciting for her to move to a new country and I want to be excited with her.
We seem to be leading a charmed life. Why are we leaving?
Cons:
Leaving two kids behind.
Living on the good end of unfair in America (ie. making x amount of money more than the CNA who has been there 20 years longer than me and works just as hard). I could never get used to that and just felt so damn guilty all the time.
Pros:
Medical training without the suicide hours. Heme is the cream.
The Lorax will grow up in Denmark.
Daughter will (eventually) re-connect with her Danish side.
The crisp summers. The ocean. The trails for running and biking. The long summer nights.
Traveling to America. A great place to be a tourist.
Being close to my Danish family.
Monday, November 3, 2008
End of my season
I'm injured. Right-sided tibial periostitis. Shin splint. Tried to run through it but the pain got worse. Took a few days off, ran a 5K tempo in a disappointing time (despite the forced taper) and the shin still hurts. Now, we we're going to Disney World with the kids and I am taking a week off from running.
This season was fun. Off the top of my head:
Started with a YMCA 5K this winter just below 17 minutes. That looked like it would be a good season.
Then came Chippewa Morraine 50, which didn't go well. Deep snow, cramps. Going from great to sucky in course of one mile. Looking back, I know exactly what I did wrong: I didn't eat or drink enough. When I should have run my own race, I stuck right behind the lead group until the halfway point. Maybe next year?
Then the St. Clare's half marathon. My time was 1.16, I think. I won, outsprinting a college runner, who was coming up behind me fast. This was with the 50K in my legs so it was a tough one but, boy, did it feel good. The time was bad, but the feel was good.
Then I am not sure what I ran.
In July, I won the Angel Island race in San Francisco. Very cool race. I ran the 25K and almost got the course record but got lost. That was probably the time I was in the best shape.
I wish I had run the 50K, though.
I ran an 18-minute 5K with the baby jogger, yielding many strange looks, later in July.
Then I ran (and won) two smaller 5Ks, both around 16:40, in August.
In September, I tried a 50-miler (North Country Trail Run) and started out very, very slowly. It worked, and I ended up passing a lot of people. Amazingly, this landed me the only money prize of the year ($50!!). That race was fun; I can't wait for my next ultra.
A few weeks ago, I ran a 10K in 34:45. Won it pretty easily. Without hills and with competition, I could have gone a lot faster. I thought that race showed that I could keep up the season a little longer but then I got injured.
So there you have it. A week off and building up to next year.
This season was fun. Off the top of my head:
Started with a YMCA 5K this winter just below 17 minutes. That looked like it would be a good season.
Then came Chippewa Morraine 50, which didn't go well. Deep snow, cramps. Going from great to sucky in course of one mile. Looking back, I know exactly what I did wrong: I didn't eat or drink enough. When I should have run my own race, I stuck right behind the lead group until the halfway point. Maybe next year?
Then the St. Clare's half marathon. My time was 1.16, I think. I won, outsprinting a college runner, who was coming up behind me fast. This was with the 50K in my legs so it was a tough one but, boy, did it feel good. The time was bad, but the feel was good.
Then I am not sure what I ran.
In July, I won the Angel Island race in San Francisco. Very cool race. I ran the 25K and almost got the course record but got lost. That was probably the time I was in the best shape.
I wish I had run the 50K, though.
I ran an 18-minute 5K with the baby jogger, yielding many strange looks, later in July.
Then I ran (and won) two smaller 5Ks, both around 16:40, in August.
In September, I tried a 50-miler (North Country Trail Run) and started out very, very slowly. It worked, and I ended up passing a lot of people. Amazingly, this landed me the only money prize of the year ($50!!). That race was fun; I can't wait for my next ultra.
A few weeks ago, I ran a 10K in 34:45. Won it pretty easily. Without hills and with competition, I could have gone a lot faster. I thought that race showed that I could keep up the season a little longer but then I got injured.
So there you have it. A week off and building up to next year.
Sunday, October 19, 2008
10K race report
This was a race in Madison, WI. We were there meeting my parents, who had flown in from Europe to visit for a week.
It was a cold, foggy morning. The warm-up was labored but I got through it decently, with some good strides. At the start line, there were a few guys who looked like they may be competition and, indeed, one of those took off very fast.
I tried holding on but had to let go after maybe 200 yards. I looked back and the next guy back was too far back to wait for. Alas, a race all by myself, I thought. But I was wrong. There was a big hill after a quarter mile and the guy ahead of me really charged up the hill. At this point, I didn't think I would catch back up at all. But on the way down, he was suddenly started shaking his arms and slowing down, basically looking like he had stiffened up completely coming up the hill. I caught back up and we ran together for about a mile.
Then another big hill came and he charged ahead of me again. I just couldn't hold on. But at the top, the same thing happened. He slowed down dramatically and I caught back up even before the downhill came. Once it came, I leaned forward a little and pulled away from him.
That's when the fog was starting to lift. It was just me and the lead-out bike and I turned on my iPod. Suddenly, the legs felt great. I didn't even look back for a few miles.
It was probably a negative split, mostly because the first half was hillier than the first but also because I felt great at the end. Overall, the race was relaxed and I feel I could have gone harder had there been closer competition. I ended up winning by almost two minutes in 34:45. I am very happy with the time. I haven't been training as much as I have wanted; while that is not beneficial in itself, it has certainly left me with fresh legs.
The Girl ran well. She won easily, finishing over two minutes ahead of second place so she ran it a little slower that she had expected. Her time was 42:05, which is very good but a little below the shape she is in right now. I think her taper was a little weak as well. Besides being the fastest, she also had the best legs at the race:
This is her accepting the, somewhat large, award, Lorax in arm.
The best part of this race was actually the kids race. Both the older kids entered the mile race. Daughter took my advice and started out slowly and ended up doing really well. She won a certificate for Culver's so she was pretty happy.
Son did a lot of standing and jogging in place but once in a while he would sprint in the right direction for a while.
My dad ran it in 58 minutes and won the 60+ age group. He is running injury free at 62 so I'm hoping I have his leg genes.
It was a cold, foggy morning. The warm-up was labored but I got through it decently, with some good strides. At the start line, there were a few guys who looked like they may be competition and, indeed, one of those took off very fast.
I tried holding on but had to let go after maybe 200 yards. I looked back and the next guy back was too far back to wait for. Alas, a race all by myself, I thought. But I was wrong. There was a big hill after a quarter mile and the guy ahead of me really charged up the hill. At this point, I didn't think I would catch back up at all. But on the way down, he was suddenly started shaking his arms and slowing down, basically looking like he had stiffened up completely coming up the hill. I caught back up and we ran together for about a mile.
Then another big hill came and he charged ahead of me again. I just couldn't hold on. But at the top, the same thing happened. He slowed down dramatically and I caught back up even before the downhill came. Once it came, I leaned forward a little and pulled away from him.
That's when the fog was starting to lift. It was just me and the lead-out bike and I turned on my iPod. Suddenly, the legs felt great. I didn't even look back for a few miles.
It was probably a negative split, mostly because the first half was hillier than the first but also because I felt great at the end. Overall, the race was relaxed and I feel I could have gone harder had there been closer competition. I ended up winning by almost two minutes in 34:45. I am very happy with the time. I haven't been training as much as I have wanted; while that is not beneficial in itself, it has certainly left me with fresh legs.
The Girl ran well. She won easily, finishing over two minutes ahead of second place so she ran it a little slower that she had expected. Her time was 42:05, which is very good but a little below the shape she is in right now. I think her taper was a little weak as well. Besides being the fastest, she also had the best legs at the race:
This is her accepting the, somewhat large, award, Lorax in arm.
The best part of this race was actually the kids race. Both the older kids entered the mile race. Daughter took my advice and started out slowly and ended up doing really well. She won a certificate for Culver's so she was pretty happy.
Son did a lot of standing and jogging in place but once in a while he would sprint in the right direction for a while.
My dad ran it in 58 minutes and won the 60+ age group. He is running injury free at 62 so I'm hoping I have his leg genes.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
My Neighborhood
Ran to the Y yesterday through a depressed, poor part of town. The legs were sore and stiff; I wasn't feeling great. Saw a couple of interesting things in those 2 miles.
A young man, probably early 20s, morbidly obese with shiny red lips and an empty stare, wearing a Packer jersey that had seen better days. He was pulling an ancient computer around in a children's Radio Flyer Wagon. He was going around the house, like he was taking the computer for a walk. He looked up at me and seemed 10% embarrassed about the situation.
Realistically, he was a retarded young man having a good time. Alternatively, he was just a fat guy cleaning out his attic.
Then I ran by a number of churches. The poorer the neighborhood, the more churches; more opium to the people, you know. But there is one church I hate. It's a Baptist church; the reverend there once stated in the local newspaper that the war in Iraq is God's will, and that Man should not care about the environment, since Rapture is just around the corner. That guy is everything that's wrong with the world, and yet he is allowed to preach hatred in there, in his tax-free haven.
Then more of the same. A bumper sticker said "I vote pro-life". Which is fine. I guess. But somewhere a Republican strategist is thinking "sucker!". Unless the driver was an excentric Purveyor of Fine 1996 Rusty Pontiac Grand Ams, he probably didn't make $250K a year, or $25K a year for that matter.
Then the kicker. A group of people holding giant posters with dead fetuses. Nasty stuff; one baby looked like it was almost full term with a crushed head. They had come in a big van and looked like absolutely normal people, preaching an absolutely hateful message. I don't know if they were legal but I saw the same group later that day in another part of town and had to tell my kids to look away. They had come in from the hills to show the city people how it was, in a big van with a dead fetus on it. It had the words "Obamanation" all over the side.
I think stiff like this has the same effect as when Obama pals around with gay peace activists: it frightens the moderates. I, for one, sure was freaked out. Such hatred.
Where do I lean, you ask? Socially, I am left of San Francisco. I am for complete social freedom, which is typical of a European-American halfsie such as myself. No surprise there.
Financially, I am torn. America is extremely unfair. Extremely unfair. Most Americans, espeically poor Americans, do not realize just how unfair life is. Too many Americans are caught by society in lives they cannot escape. There is not enough money; there is no escape. The other day, I saw a 25-year old guy with stumps for teeth. Had no health insurance; came in for back pain but didn't want his job to know about it. Told me he was spending all his money on his two kids. Seemed like a really nice guy. Most of these people, who exist around the poverty line, are good people for whom things just didn't work out for a while. It doesn't take too many missteps, and they are stuck.
But the thing is, I can live with the unfairness because I am on the good end of unfair. Most people who have travelled outside America, who have seen the extreme unfairness of edveloping countries or the stiffling fairness of Europe, are on the good side of unfair. They can live with it, too. I know that, realistically, it's not right that a doctor makes 10 times more than a school teacher but yet I live with it.
A teacher of mine in elementary school, John, was a great guy. He was a gay socialist to the bone. He made us sing socialist fighting songs, but he also taught a really decent Religion class. A student once asked him (you'll be able to tell this was not in America): "if you win the lottery, will you still vote for the Socialists?". John thought about this for a long time, and we were all waiting to hear his answer. He finally said "I would still vote for them, but I would hope the Conservatives won".
I know exactly what he meant.
I guess I should write about running, too. I have put in some decent speed workouts but they tell me that I am not in the best of shape. I am running a 10K on Saturday and I think, realistically, I am aiming for a sub-35. More importantly, I am going for the win, and wouldn't mind running tactically.
The Girl is faster and faster. She has started to do speed work once or twice a week. Usually runs 800s in 5:50 pace. I think she will probably run just below 40 minutes on Saturday.
We are talking about running the trans-rockies race next summer as a mix team. It's a strange race, in the sense that the couple has to run together, making the woman the important part of the team. However, the Girl is slowly becoming the (relatively) faster of the two of us so that's probably a good thing. If "pushing" is allowed, it would be fun to run it competitively.
Actually, back up. What's better, a man's 35-minute 10K or a woman's 40-minute 10K? Anyone? I guess my gut tells me the womans 40-minute 10K but I am curious to hear what other people think.
A young man, probably early 20s, morbidly obese with shiny red lips and an empty stare, wearing a Packer jersey that had seen better days. He was pulling an ancient computer around in a children's Radio Flyer Wagon. He was going around the house, like he was taking the computer for a walk. He looked up at me and seemed 10% embarrassed about the situation.
Realistically, he was a retarded young man having a good time. Alternatively, he was just a fat guy cleaning out his attic.
Then I ran by a number of churches. The poorer the neighborhood, the more churches; more opium to the people, you know. But there is one church I hate. It's a Baptist church; the reverend there once stated in the local newspaper that the war in Iraq is God's will, and that Man should not care about the environment, since Rapture is just around the corner. That guy is everything that's wrong with the world, and yet he is allowed to preach hatred in there, in his tax-free haven.
Then more of the same. A bumper sticker said "I vote pro-life". Which is fine. I guess. But somewhere a Republican strategist is thinking "sucker!". Unless the driver was an excentric Purveyor of Fine 1996 Rusty Pontiac Grand Ams, he probably didn't make $250K a year, or $25K a year for that matter.
Then the kicker. A group of people holding giant posters with dead fetuses. Nasty stuff; one baby looked like it was almost full term with a crushed head. They had come in a big van and looked like absolutely normal people, preaching an absolutely hateful message. I don't know if they were legal but I saw the same group later that day in another part of town and had to tell my kids to look away. They had come in from the hills to show the city people how it was, in a big van with a dead fetus on it. It had the words "Obamanation" all over the side.
I think stiff like this has the same effect as when Obama pals around with gay peace activists: it frightens the moderates. I, for one, sure was freaked out. Such hatred.
Where do I lean, you ask? Socially, I am left of San Francisco. I am for complete social freedom, which is typical of a European-American halfsie such as myself. No surprise there.
Financially, I am torn. America is extremely unfair. Extremely unfair. Most Americans, espeically poor Americans, do not realize just how unfair life is. Too many Americans are caught by society in lives they cannot escape. There is not enough money; there is no escape. The other day, I saw a 25-year old guy with stumps for teeth. Had no health insurance; came in for back pain but didn't want his job to know about it. Told me he was spending all his money on his two kids. Seemed like a really nice guy. Most of these people, who exist around the poverty line, are good people for whom things just didn't work out for a while. It doesn't take too many missteps, and they are stuck.
But the thing is, I can live with the unfairness because I am on the good end of unfair. Most people who have travelled outside America, who have seen the extreme unfairness of edveloping countries or the stiffling fairness of Europe, are on the good side of unfair. They can live with it, too. I know that, realistically, it's not right that a doctor makes 10 times more than a school teacher but yet I live with it.
A teacher of mine in elementary school, John, was a great guy. He was a gay socialist to the bone. He made us sing socialist fighting songs, but he also taught a really decent Religion class. A student once asked him (you'll be able to tell this was not in America): "if you win the lottery, will you still vote for the Socialists?". John thought about this for a long time, and we were all waiting to hear his answer. He finally said "I would still vote for them, but I would hope the Conservatives won".
I know exactly what he meant.
I guess I should write about running, too. I have put in some decent speed workouts but they tell me that I am not in the best of shape. I am running a 10K on Saturday and I think, realistically, I am aiming for a sub-35. More importantly, I am going for the win, and wouldn't mind running tactically.
The Girl is faster and faster. She has started to do speed work once or twice a week. Usually runs 800s in 5:50 pace. I think she will probably run just below 40 minutes on Saturday.
We are talking about running the trans-rockies race next summer as a mix team. It's a strange race, in the sense that the couple has to run together, making the woman the important part of the team. However, the Girl is slowly becoming the (relatively) faster of the two of us so that's probably a good thing. If "pushing" is allowed, it would be fun to run it competitively.
Actually, back up. What's better, a man's 35-minute 10K or a woman's 40-minute 10K? Anyone? I guess my gut tells me the womans 40-minute 10K but I am curious to hear what other people think.
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