the meaning of life is perspective

i am no longer running from something, but rather am running to something.  some very big somethings.  perspective has everything to do with how that run feels.

life is, according to marc maron, a series of beatings.  some are light and mildly bruising.  others are brutal and bloody.  the purpose of life is to survive those beatings and come out stronger.

people certainly live without having the literal or figurative shit beaten out of them, but those people don't know how strong they can be when true strength is needed.

i've taken a fairly sound beating recently.  of course most of the blows were self-inflicted.  but i survived and am charging forward.

which way the wind blows

quite often in my life i have felt rudderless, with slack sails.  my charts are scattered.  both day and night the skies are clouded over.  i know not where i am, just that i am not where i want to be.  well, not entirely...

  

for years my life seemed lacking.  something was missing.  there was no purpose.

if i know anything about myself it is that if there is something i do not want to do, i will not do it.  no amount of threats or cajoling or promised rewards will propel me down that path.  whatever it may be, i have to truly want it in order that i have any desire to actually pursue it.

hence private counseling.  and group therapy.  and more honest communication with my wife.  and the new job, which brings me to the point of this post.

that new job...  when that all began last summer, Andria was concerned that part time work would not provide enough of what we needed.  and surely the schedule would make for difficult times.  my therapist, dr. simons, balked at the idea even more forcefully.  what you need is money.  part time will not provide you with the means to change you situation.  

i took in what each of them had to say, and set out anyway.  i did not know what the future would hold, but i finally saw promise in that future.

a new wind was blowing.  not harsh or bitter.  not fraught with unhealthy urges or codependent attachments. so i raised my sails and let the wind carry me wherever it would.

six months later that part time job has become full time.  rather than a member of the team, i have been granted supervisory status.  i am one of the leaders.  my superiors and coworkers recognize that i have drive and determination and the will to succeed in that environment.  i may not have the support of everyone in the building, but i have the support of the right people in the building.

i have the support of the right people in life.

as for the money - the part time hours and the part time dollars - that will change to.  suddenly i am propelled from earning a quarter dollar above the entry level to the top hourly wage in the building plus one dollar, per company policy.  with the increase in wage and hours, my annual pay will triple.

fucking triple...

if you have any knowledge of my personal circumstances the last seven years, you know that Andria and i are on the cusp of something huge.

and all i have to do is to continue working the sails, keeping them trim and full.

signposts and road maps

*recall the days before gps enabled phones and in-dash navigation

if you have ever traveled by car, you may have had an opportunity to utilize the occasional signpost or road map to find your way.  if you do not know the way, reaching your destination could prove quite difficult without some assistance.

people are like these items, signposts and road maps.

the road maps, you keep with you.  maybe within reach, or tucked away and brought out when necessary.  after a quick consultation you are on your way again.  so long as you don’t misplace it, the road map is always with you.

signposts, on the other hand, remain fixed.  the signpost points the way, but you cannot reach your destination until you take leave of the signpost.  though helpful to your journey, the signpost is no longer necessary in your travels.

my point?  road map people are with you the entire way.  they witness your progress from departure to destination.  they see the steps taken and turns made and know what you have become along the way.  

whereas, signpost people only know what you were at that moment in time, when paths crossed.  once you leave them behind, signpost people have no clue what has become of you.  in reality, the ultimate destination may not be of concern for signpost people.  their task is simply to point you in the right direction.

we all know people that fit these descriptions.  i am willing to bet that most of us owe debts of gratitude to people that have pointed the way, either by simply giving a heads up or showing the entire path.

if you know either of these type of people, and are in a position to do so, thank them.  let them know that you are heading in the right direction because of them.

it is possible they have no clue of the service they provided.

The Four Agreements

The Four Agreements, by Don Miguel Ruiz

Agreement 1:
Be impeccable with your word - Speak with integrity.  Say only what you mean.  Avoid using the word to speak against yourself or to gossip about others.  Use the power of your word in the direction of truth and love.

• If people cannot trust your word, they have no reason to trust you.  Ever.  And nothing you say will dissuade them from what they believe about you from that point onward.

Agreement 2:
Don't tackle anything personally - Nothing others do is because of you.  What others say and do is a projection of their own reality, their own dream.  When you are immune to the opinions and actions of others, you won't be the victim of needless suffering.

• You are not a martyr.  You are not a victim.  Let me rephrase that... You are not a victim of anyone other than your own delusions.  See Agreement 3.

Agreement 3:
Don't make assumptions - Find the courage to ask questions and to express what you really want.  Communicate with others as clearly as you can to avoid misunderstandings, sadness, and drama.  With just this one agreement, you can completely transform your life.

• If you want to know, ask.  If you don't want to know, don't give the matter another thought.  Assuming you know anything, without widening your knowledge base, is the surest sign that you know nothing.

Agreement 4:
Always do your best - Your best is going to change from moment to moment; it will be different when you are healthy as opposed to sick.  Under any circumstance, simply do your best, and you will avoid self-judgment, self-abuse, and regret.

• Always...

Under a Blood Red Sunrise

I am awake.  I don’t know how, but I am…

One hour into the final loop, nearly out and dead to the world, here I am striding as fast as I can, across the top of this damn rock.  No running.  Not yet, not for another few miles.  Not for any measurable distance for several more hours…

The weekend started out great and without the slightest sense of apprehension.  Friday morning greeted us with rain and chilly temperatures.  A cold front was rolling through and promised cloudy and moderate temperatures on Saturday.  As the Cactus Rose course is very exposed, cloud cover would be welcome.  And if the clouds remained overnight, the lows would be fairly mild as well.

At the starting line I did not recognize anyone, other than a few faces I remembered from last year.  Andria and I did meet up with Melissa and we went over last minute thoughts.  With a few minutes till the start I moved to the rear of the assembled masses and took a deep breath.

In the dark the first mile or so was basically a walk.  It would be several miles before the trail opened up and allowed for running without crawling up someone’s ass.

The first loop (twenty-five miles) plus ten miles went as expected.  I ran when the course was run-able.  I walked when it was not.  The only surprise of the first loop was that I completely missed the descent from Ice Cream Hill.  It is long and steep and requires careful footing.  The limestone is flakey and any lapse in attention would easily result in landing on one’s ass – hard.

Andria was waiting for me at Equestrian on both passes and at The Lodge. 

Loop One:  5:33

Elapsed Time:  5:33

When I returned to Equestrian at mile 35 I made the bold request for Andria and Melissa to calculate the necessary splits to break twenty-four hours.

That proved to be wasted breath.  I was still feeling good physically and mentally.  However, the twenty miles through the meat grinder of Equestrian-to-Boyles-to-Lodge (miles 15 through 35 and miles 65 through 85) and back again was about to a catch up with me as I headed for Nachos and mile 40.

My quads began to bark and running turned to walking.  When I arrived back at The Lodge to complete the second loop both thighs were cramping deeply.  Andria and Melissa were slow coming driving up from Equestrian (I wanted to curse then and did till they arrived, and eventually I let it pass and turned my head back to the now.) so I laid on the cold ground and waited.  A few people asked if I was okay.  I may have lied but I don’t remember.

A few minutes later the girls showed up and Andria tried to roll out the cramps with a Stick.  Oops.  The Stick on my right quad ignited a violent spasm up the right side of my spine through my shoulder blade and into my deltoid.  Next she rolled an inflamed hip flexor, which caused my right groin to flare up.

I may have screamed at some point.  I don’t remember.

I may have asked out of the event at that point.  No was the long answer.

Loop Two:  8:37

Elapsed Time:  14:10

The next loop was a slow long slog.  No running.  Night was settling over Hill Country and I resigned myself to accept the original goal I brought to Cactus Rose – just finish.  There was no joy in that acceptance.

Allow me a moment to reflect on the past year…  I am codependent.  Codependency is marked by particular patterns of behavior that lead to soul crushing negative self-talk.  Most people struggle with the Big Picture of completing an ultra, but my codependency makes the struggle even deeper.  So my mission was to pull back and focus on each five mile segment.  Each turn on the trail.  Each solitary step.  Just for today is a common refrain of the Codependent.  I had to repeat that refrain and reflect on the Serenity Prayer to just get through the loop.

While at mile 65 I thought back to last year when I wanted out.  I was way behind that pace but was still going.

I need to point that that other than muscle fatigue I felt pretty well physically.  No joint pain.  My ankles and knees felt great.  I was popping ibuprofen and my team asked questions to monitor my urine rate, flow, and color to avoid any bit of nastiness from over-medicating.

After mile 65 I dove back into the meat grinder and shit was about to get real deep, real fast.  Coming through the final segment from Boyles back to The Lodge I felt as though I would fall asleep on my feet.  The fear began to rise that I would succumb and fall, probably bashing my skull on a rock.  I was in the grip of Fear and Doubt and all the voices that tell me to get the fuck off this course and off my feet.

As I stumbled toward the timing mat to close out 75 miles I considered handing Joe, the race director, my timing chip and walking away.  If I would quit I did not want to give Andria or Melissa a chance to talk me out of it.

Fortunately for them I forgot to hand in my chip.

Loop Three:  10:58

Elapsed Time:  25:08

I made my way to the heated tent step up by the race organizers and slumped into a camp chair.  To say I was dead would not begin to capture just how exhausted I was that morning.  It was five o’clock on Sunday morning and the only thing I wanted was to sleep.  My crew shoved food into my mouth.  I rolled my head from side to side to get away for anything they wanted me to eat. 

Barely under my breath, I begged to quit.  I wanted out desperately. 

I did eat a bit.  No clue what, other than some Ramen.  Maybe some Pringles and banana chips.

Andria did tell me later than I slept for about thirty minutes.  I did stir to see her putting on additional clothes.  My immediate response was “What the fuck are you doing?”  She said she was getting ready to go out with me.  She and Melissa were going to get me up and out and she was going with me.  “No the fuck you aren’t!”  I told her that I could barely care for myself out there on the trail and with the worst ten miles ahead I did not think she would be able.   I don’t for a minute doubt Andria’s heart – she was willing – but I knew she was not ready physically for what lay ahead.  “If you get hurt I can’t carry both of us out.”

So up I stood, turned on my iPod to Marc Maron’s WTF podcast with Bryan Cranston (conversations with Henry Rollins and Steven Wright would follow), and back into the dark I stumble.  It was shortly after six o’clock.

I knew that if I made it through the next ten miles I would finish the race, barring injury.  The climbs, even at a slow walking pace, were lung searing.  As I crossed from Cairn’s Climb to Boyles Bump I looked over my left shoulder to see a blood red sunrise sandwiched in the break between the horizon and low clouds.  Then I realized how determined my walking pace was.  I felt how awake I was.  I was at a polar opposite from how I was at The Lodge.

Coming down the final approach to Boyles aid station I tried to run it in.  Andria was waiting and filled my handhelds to help me get out as soon as possible.  I sprinted (it felt like sprinting) out and down the trail till I hit the first climb toward Sky Island. 

Sky Island is the highest point on the course.  The ascent and descent, whether going clockwise or counterclockwise, is ball busting brutality at its worst.  Not to mention the crawl over Three Sisters and all the damn stool palms that continued slicing my quads and shins.

My arrival at Equestrian allowed me to shed clothing, my head lamp, and shovel more food down my throat.  The #DoEpicShit tee finally came out.

From here I would loop ten miles through Nachos before coming back to Equestrian, then the final five miles to the finish.

I could smell the finish.

The trail to Nachos is fairly flat in comparison to the stretch from The Lodge-to-Boyles-to-Equestrian, with one exception – Ice Cream Hill.  I clocked the climb at three and a half minutes to cover one tenth of a mile.  I’ve run a half mile on a high school track faster than that.  The Ice Cream Hill ascent is no high school track.

On this segment I caught of with a few runners also struggling to find some reserve strength.  As I pulled away from Nachos a runner and his pacer caught and passed me.  The pacer urged me to join them.  I did my best but continued to walk when I needed to, though I ran more as the quads allowed.  During a gentle rise along a power line I really began to hike a hard pace to keep my head in the game.  I did manage to jog most the final mile into Equestrian.

Once out of Equestrian I had 4.5 miles to go.  I wanted to run as much as possible, but the climb over Lucky Peak within the final 1.5 miles was looming.  I had to save something in the quads.  With two miles remaining I could hear the crowd at The Lodge through the trees.  On I pressed, still walking hard.

I saw the top of Lucky Peak in the distance.  Once over it and another shorter down-and- up it was be flat all the way back.  The climb up Lucky was clocked on my Garmin at under 400 feet.  That steady climb took almost three minutes.  You have to earn this finish, and you know it’s coming all weekend.

Once on the jeep trail I tried to open my stride and push the pace.  I wanted this over as quickly as possible.

There is one final straight away, where you can spy a few of the buildings at The Lodge, before turning back in to the trees for a few hundred yards.  At the top of my lungs I shouted “Honey, I’m almost home!!!” and really hammered the pace.  Glancing at my Garmin I may have seen 7:30/mi.

Down and through the little gully and twenty yards in.  I passed Andria to my right. 

As I crossed the timing mat I came to a stop and meet Joe to collect my buckle.

I was done.

Fourth Loop:  8:14

Race Total:  33:24 (Writer's note - I did not account for seconds in my splits, so if you add up the individual loop times you will note that they come up two minutes short.  Bite me.)

Andria was there to hug me – the one time she has not refused a nasty post-run hug.  Then I collapsed under a shade tree for a Guinness and a rest.

There were a few tears.  There were a few sighs of relief.  But more so there was an overwhelming sense of satisfaction at completing this goal.  In spite of all the walking I finished only one hour behind last year’s time.

Fuck yeah.

Post script #1 – There are far too many details to recall, most of which are lost to me already, to provide a thorough and accurate accounting of my most recent encounter with the Cactus Rose.  And quite frankly, I cannot expect anyone to read through the reams of prose I could spit out regarding the physical, mental, and emotional toll of the event.  Most of it is gone, faded into the dark corners of my mind and body.  Surely some has settled into my bones.  Should you have any specific questions, feel free to ask at your leisure.

Post script #2 - I gave the buckle to Andria.  We will probably get it boxed as a display, but it is hers. I may have covered the course alone, but she was with me at all the aid stations and each step of the way in spirit.  Having her support made this weekend possible and without her, I may not have gotten out of that chair to start the final lap.  I may have said "thank you" to her at least five times a day since I finished.  There are not enough thank yous, really.

Post script #3 - While on the trail and as we drove out of the park, I figured I was leaving Bandera for the last time.  There was a real sense that never again would I run Cactus Rose or any stretch of the Hill Country trail network.  I even assumed that I would never attempt another 100 miler.  There is a real physical and mental toll to pay.  Then a funny thing happened over the next twenty hours.  Though I had a lot of pain in my legs, and my stomach was ripped after too much post-race food and Gatorade, I realized I was not hurt as badly as after last year’s race.  Then in a text exchange with another Cactus Rose veteran I suddenly realized I was planning how to train smarter for next year.  Andria also revealed that to pass the time between aid stations she began making a list of gear she needs for The Next Race.  So I guess there will be a Next Race.

I resume training shortly.

In three short weeks I'll be in the middle of my second 100 miler.

Actually it will be my third.  I say second because I expect to finish this one, as I did last October.

Honestly thought, my training has sucked.  Plus I'm working a new job with crazy hours.

But I have course familiarity, I have been through the fire before and know what to expect, and I've spent the last forty-nine weeks training from the next up.  It has been a wild ride to say the least.

A few months back I considered refunding the air fare and not going back to Texas.  Andria said No.  She urged me to go, as a way to honor the journey I have made since my last trip out West.

I have to say... I like how that woman thinks.

Come Hell or no water, I'll be back to let you know how the weekend goes.

- L

Hello, again.

It has been a long while since I was last here, telling you of my thoughts and actions.  Since our last visit I've been doing other things, revealing myself in other places, in other ways.  I have also learned much about myself in the intervening months.  Since I last posted I've:

• deactivated my social media accounts on Facebook, Twitter, and Daily Mile.  I no longer gained from these sites what once made them so attractive.
• spent time in private therapy and continue to participate in a support group for codependency.
• actively minimized my work load in the field of real estate.
• been employed for almost one month with a global wholesale/retailer.  This means I am punching a time clock and getting paid on a regular basis.  What is not to love?
• not run nearly enough.  In the spring I paid for entry and airfare in a bid to rerun Cactus Rose.  As of today that race is ten weeks away.  As of last night I have a raging calf strain and cannot walk comfortably.  I need a flashlight and a few extra hands.  I feel I will be pulling another buckle out of my ass somehow.
• I've said goodbye, albeit reluctantly, to a few close friends.  The sort of friends that alter one's perspective and are catalysts for remarkable changes in life.  The kind of friends that support you through thick and thin.  The kind of friends that would stick with you forever, but know when to leave you alone.  Unfortunately, this is a forever kind of alone.

Am I happier since I last posted to this blog?  I guess.  But it is relative.  

Am I more content?  Again, it is relative.

What I know is that in spite of whatever ups and downs I am rolling through, I am responsible for my reactions and responses.  I am the one capable of overcoming, of pressing forward, of pushing ahead.  Others may try to hold me back.  Others may try to propel me forward.  But I alone am responsible for the change I seek.

Hi. My name is Logan and I am co-dependent.

I have worried about a lot of bullshit in my life.  I have made many self-destructive decisions in my life.  What I can say with the utmost certainty is that I am a victim of my own inability to control my urges and impulses.

Codependency has been will me all my life.  I suspect - rather, I believe - codependency will be will me for the remainder of my life.  Only now I have a label and I have an understanding and I have tools to respond to the behavioral patterns that previously guided me.

I may or may not use this space to write about my struggles with coming to terms with codependency.  Like other forms of addiction, you never beat it.  You can only deal with it.  You can only keep it a bay.

Should have any questions, ask.  If you come with hate or bullshit, I will cut you.  Deep.

Toeing the Line

Something is coming.

Those who care may understand.

Those who don't, or doubt any aspect of my being, can...

Go to Hell

Thought for today

Speak No Ill nor Do No Harm.

To yourself or others.  This is what I must become.

Why I Run - Further Introspection

I can never truly outrun The Voices, my inner demons that keep me on the edge of the abyss.  What I find is that I do need to outrun The Voices.  Running for me is like a dance where The Voices are a reluctant partner.

In the dark of night or lonesome moments The Voices sing out like a multitude of angles on high - though their hymns are neither joyful nor uplifting.  Each verse is an attack on my heart, my soul, my very reasons for being.  The refrain hammers home my frailty and weakness.

Running is my time to take the lead in this dance.  I hire the band.  I pick the set-list.  I chose the dance steps and drag The Voices around the dance floor.  I know that so long as I am moving about the dance floor The Voices cannot keep time.  They cannot shout me down.  They cannot shuffle their feet in time with the rhythm of the movement.  The Voices stumble.  I create separation.

Oh they try to bog me down and play the usual mind games.

Rather than listen to The Voices I focus on the sound of my lungs and searing of each breath.

Rather than suffers the raining blows of my eternal enemies I revel in the pounding of my heart against my chest.

Rather than dwell on how The Voices assault and claw at the fabric of my soul I feel muscle, tendon, and ligament pull and stretch and twist as I churn down the path...

Forever forward.

I am not running away.  I am running with...

Till The Voices tire and fall away and retreat to their own quiet spot to rest, I run.  Then after I am finished there is a respite - a ceasefire, a momentary peace.  The purpose for a training plan is not to prepare for a particular event but to get my ass (and my head) back out on the road before The Voices have a chance to awaken from their slumber; before they have opportunity to regroup and refortify.

I do not run to run away.  I run to keep The Voices at bay.

I run to be stronger than anything that aims to defeat me.  I run to be stronger than Me.

Running For Life

One complaint people have about running is that the act of running is boring.  It is so boring that some people refuse to run or shudder at the very thought of running without music or some other auditory distraction.

At some point I made a conscious decision to drop the ear buds and embrace the mental chatter.  Whether I am out for a brisk three miler or slogging through several hours on my feet, my greatest pleasure in running is wrestling with some issue and arriving at a resolution.  Not all runs are great and not all resolutions work; however, the push to be better physically and mentally is worth whatever hurdles are encountered along the way.

On numerous occasions I lack sufficient motivation to push myself and struggle to maintain consistent effort.  Then I happen upon a person that is battling with their own demons or physical illness.  It has been a while but dedication runs have been a great motivator for focused running.  They may be low key and easy; a way to meditate on healing or peace for the person in question.  Or, I may run like a bat out of hell, pouring all my energy into the run knowing that the subject of the dedication is not able to do so.

Since the end of October I have struggled to get back in a groove with regards to running.  Many days I feel listless or else I make easy excuses to head out later.  Unfortunately later is usually after a space of two or three days.

Rather than dedicating a single workout for some individual or cause, I have decided to dedicate an entire training cycle to a single cause.  On Saturday, May 5th I will participate in 2012 Relay For Life of Georgetown, SC.  My personal goal is to run as much as possible and walk as necessary so that I may remain in motion from Noon till Midnight.

Relay For Life is a cancer charity.  I will run for three grandparents taken by cancer, as well as various aunts and uncles who did not survive their diagnoses.  I will run for my father and two of my wife's uncles who have successfully overcome prostate cancer.  I will run for my father-in-law who is only weeks into post-operative recovery for prostate cancer.  I will also from for the OB-GYN that delivered my youngest daughter ten years ago this April.  She lost her fight with cancer.

This is a very personal issue for me.

Fundraising is a component of Relay For Life.  Asking for money is not a natural talent of mine.  Should you feel compelled to contribute I shall be eternally grateful.  I may even send along a little personal gift to express my gratitude.

To up the ante, I shall also pledge to donate one dollar from each #DoEpicShit bracelet I sell between now and May 6th.

What does twelve hours on an asphalt high school track mean with regards to distance?  I expect to complete at minimum two hundred laps, or 50 miles.  If everything comes together well I hope to reach close to 80 miles.

The last few months I have felt detached, disjointed.  On a recent run I found a renewed determination that translated into an excellent eight mile run.  I think that is part of what is fueling my runs.  The push for greater pace/effort is a renewed desire to dedicate to and run for people not able to run for themselves.  I do this because they cannot.  It is scary how hard I am able to push myself; and yet some of these efforts seems so easy in the moment.  A dedication run ceases to be a trainer or merely another daily task to check of the list.  The run assumes a life of its own.  Much like The Relay for life.

It is one of the many reasons I run.


____________________________
For those not gifted with an ability to read between the lines this is a call for money.  Click either link to donate directly to Relay For LIfe or to purchase a wristband.  Do it.

Echos of What Was

I happened upon this song recently.  Somebody That I Used To Know by Gotye.  If you know then you will understand why this song is so impactful.  There has been much on my mind of late.  I have talked with certain confidantes and made promises to let these thoughts go.  For as much as this song reminds me of what was, it also informs me that all things - people, friendships, relationships - eventually pass away and are relegated to once upon a time.

Something Is Afoot

Since I returned from Texas I have not trained with any purpose.  I have yet to register for any races.  Blame it on a lack of disposable income.  Blame it on being to weak-willed to trick myself into training for the sake of training.  The problem is that when there is no race to prepare for my mind rarely allows me to run guilt-free.  If the past few years have taught me anything, it would be that I need at least 60 minutes in motion to feel the effects of a run.  Three or four miles just won't do most days.  Seven or eight is more to my liking.  Fifteen or 20 is even better.  Rather than allowing my mind to cannibalize itself with negative talk and self-doubt, my mind urges my body forward.  Sure, on occasion the mind is weak and wimps out when the body has more to give, but often times I find that I am outrunning myself.  Running from the flaws and imperfections and all the defects that mark my frail grasp on humanity.

All this is to say that some days when running for self, training plans or health is not enough, it is time to look outside one's self.  Some of my best runs have come when I've thought about others.  Dedicating a run to someone in need, whether it is a friend or stranger, often allows me to forget my own pain or frailty and push harder than I may have otherwise.  "How would that person run if they could?" is a question I will ask myself.

Which brings me to the present.  My plan is not unusual.  Many of you following this blog have done more for charity than I'll ever consider.  I am hoping this a first step.  Another test of self while contributing to a cause.

Three of my grandparents died of cancer.  My father is a survivor of prostate cancer.  My father-in-law is scheduled for surgery on Monday to remove cancerous tissue from his own prostate.  Both of my mother-in-law's brothers have survived their own battled with the disease.  Then what better way to take on the fight that by participating in the Georgetown County Relay For Life?

On Saturday May 5th, from noon till midnight, I shall attempt to circle the asphalt track at Waccamaw High School as many times as possible.  I am partnering with a team representing Waccamaw Middle School where my daughter attends.  To say I am excited by the opportunity and excited to have a training goal is to understate the obvious.

In the coming days or weeks I shall post a link to solicit donations.  To be clear - I loathe fundraising.  I hate asking for money.  However this is a different story.  If able to contribute, please know that I am forever grateful for your support.

As for a goal...  I am thinking a nice round number is appropriate.

5-0 maybe.

But if I reach that goal with time on the clock, you can be damn certain I will try to go further.

2011 in review

Here are the Top Five most read posts from my blog in 2011.

My first hundred miler

My only marathon of 2011

Ego comes into question

A response to someone's misunderstanding

Struggling on the inside

Manufacturing a Challenge

The bane of an explorer's existence is being locked in port, unable to set out on a quest for knowledge or discovery.  Early seekers often did not have a goal in mind but merely a heading.  Pick a direction, set the sails and go.

I have suffered a bit of cabin fever lately.  My most recent journey was truly epic but I believe at heart I am a wanderer ready for the next adventure.

That next adventure is already begun to germinate.  There are logistics to be worked out and permissions to be obtained.  At present there are more questions than answers.  I hope to reverse that course in the coming months.

As an online ultra running mentor once said, the greatest adventures in life are those of our own creation.

Cinematic Moments - Fading To Black

"When a man walks into a room, he brings his whole life with him.  He has a millions reasons for being anywhere; just ask him.  If you listen, he'll tell you how he got there.  How he forgot where he was going, and that he woke up.  If you listen, he'll tell you about the time he thought he was an angel or dreamt of being perfect.  And then he'll smile with wisdom, content that he realized the world isn't perfect.  We're flawed, because we want so much more.  We're ruined, because we get these things, and wish for what we had."


- Don Draper, Mad Men


Fifty two weeks removed from my first marathon and two weeks since my first 100 miler, I have reached a crossroads.

In regards to running and writing, I have run out of words.  That spark is extinguished.

There are still ideas to contemplate and stories to develop, but they are better told elsewhere.


Thanks for listening.  Keep moving forward.

- Logan/UR

Rockapalooza and the Two Day Dirt Festival

One question I have been asked over the past several months is Why are you going to Texas to run Cactus Rose?  There are other races closer to South Carolina.  There are other races over more forgiving terrain.  I have two reasons.  One, those races are for punks and phonies.  (lol, just kidding)  Two, my good friend and "sister" Melissa asked me to come out.  She is an extremely generous person and offered her time and services to get me through and earn my first one hundred mile finish.  Without her insistence this weekend would not have been possible.

Cactus Rose is held in the Hill Country State Park ten miles west of Bandera, Texas.  While not in a remote area, it certainly gives the impression of being on the edge of nowhere.  The ground is extremely rocky and sandy.  Little grass grows in the region.  South Texas is bone dry due to a long drought and the air felt devoid of any humidity.  Believe me, after living in the coastal southeastern United States my entire life, I relished a brief respite from humidity.

There is lots of scrub oak, mesquite trees and sotol palms.  These squatty little bastards with slice you to pieces if not careful.  I was fortunate to suffer only minor cuts; I hear they can go pretty deep.

Entrance to the Hill Country State Park, ten miles west of Bandera, Texas.

Equestrian Aid Station with a double stop.  Only hot food available other than at the start/finish area.  This was the site of our crew HQ.

Discussing race strategy, logistics and who should be "the boss".  I lost on all fronts.

Cactus Rose race director Joe Prusaitis preparing the finishing  area on Thursday before the race.

At The Lodge aid station.  Served at the race start/finish area, packet pick up, race HQ and source of a volunteer staffed grill.  Wonderful people gave of their time and energies to see the races through to Sunday morning.

Loop One/ Lulled into delusional considerations

At 5am we were off the starting line and charging forward.  As I hit the fork to take the clockwise heading I thought that the run was just beginning.  Quickly I reminded myself the race would probably not start till the first hill, or the fiftieth mile, or even the first bounce off the proverbial wall.  All I could do was stay on course, not trip over any rocks - holy crap there were rocks - and remain as calm and focused as possible.

The red line is the course.  The flat map is no indication of how sadistic the topography is laid out.

Course layout and aid stations - the course was a twenty five mile loop, with aid stations approximately every five miles.  Loops One and Three were run in a clockwise heading while Loops Two and Four were completed in a counter clockwise direction.  That meant we only went in one direction twice.  You had to deal with a really shitty incline or decline twice.  That would prove important later on.

The aid stations in clockwise order were named The Lodge (start/finish area), Equestrian (our crew HQ), Nachos (unmanned), Equestrian (two passes through on each loop), Boyles (unmanned) and back to The Lodge.  We chose to establish our base camp at Equestrian as it would afford two opportunities to comfortably meet with the crew and handle whatever needs arose.  On the counter clockwise loops the runners hit the aid stations in reverse order (obviously).

It is impossible to run the complete circuit at Cactus Rose.  Unless you are a fricking mountain goat.  The constantly changing grade and footing forced one be vigilant for loose rocks, gravel or other hazards that may cause trips, rolls, sprains or breaks.  I only fell once - slipped onto my ass on a step down in the dark - but I saw a few other folks fall on the trail.

On the first morning dawn finally broke around 7:30.  While I was happy to no longer need my headlamp it meant I was forced to acknowledge the beast underneath me.  Rather than only being able to see whatever was illuminated by my headlamp I could now see the expanse of the Hill Country State Park and all that it had to throw at me.

A cool aspect of a long slow trail ultra (relative to road racing at any distance) is the opportunity to talk with other competitors.  I had the pleasure over the first fifty miles of running/shuffling/walking with some really strong runners and exceedingly amazing individuals.  Spent a good amount of time with Reece Catron and Jeremy Day.  We shared observations on the course, races in general, expectations for the weekend and a plethora of topics I promised would stay on the trail.  It was interesting hearing the different people discussing other races, strategy, nutrition and motivation.  On occasion these talks were a welcome distraction from the hellish nature of the course layout.  Other times it was nice to commiserate with others over just how ridiculous such an endeavor truly is.

During the course of the weekend I ate a few peanut butter and honey sandwiches, a handful of Hammer Gel (chocolate and orange flavors), hot ramen, grilled cheese, bananas and gallons of water with Banana Nuun.  I also recommend Boost.  It went down well when solid food sounded awful.

I finished the first loop in a very solid five hours and twenty-two minutes.

Like an ass I began to toy with the idea of a sub twenty-four hour finish.  

Loop Two/ Slogging through

FINISH was the only goal I brought to the weekend.

I hoped to finish healthy as well.  I still had to walk through the airports, on and off the planes.  Life would begin again Monday and I could not afford to be in the gutter physically.  I have no immediate plans for future races so the ability to run post CR was not considered; I just hoped to avoid being carted off the course or being laid up for an extended period.

The final ten miles of Loop One are probably the most difficult of that circuit.  There are some monster climbs with few runnable sections.  Overall I felt really optimistic.  That when out the window on Loop Two.  The first ten miles of the counter clockwise return were fairly navigable.  There was at least one climb in each leg of the course on this heading that were just plain stupid.  I don't know if I could find anything comparable in South Carolina.  Hopping over the rocks began to take a toll.

I continued ahead with Reece and Jeremy.  Separate from our conversations I began to focus on the tightening in my right knee.  The IT strain that knocked me out of Lumberjack was coming back.  Slowly at first, but it was there.  I never mentioned it.  I preferred to show a brave face.  I didn't worry about giving anything away to my cohorts - beating another runner was not the point.  I didn't want somebody else to worry about me.

My memory is pretty fuzzy but I think I called Andria at Mile 35 to say everything was going fine.  I lied.  I may have told Melissa about the knee at this point.  Figured I needed to be honest with my crew leader.  Andria was one thousand miles away and unable to do anything but worry.  Andria confessed she could hear the worry in my voice.  That woman knows me too well.

At this point I decided to have fun and threw on the kilt.  Guess how I wore it?  Seriously, I felt ten degrees cooler when I shucked the compression shorts.

I'm a wild and crazy guy!

I started the Loop One in the dark and finished Loop Two in the daylight covering the same ground, though in reverse order.  I have to say that the darkness cloaked the ridiculous nature of the final 2.5 miles back to the The Lodge.  There are two long steep climbs and equally steep drops.  In the dark they were okay.  When I could see beyond thirty feet in any direction I realized that this place is serious shit.  Lose your focus for even a second and your day is over.

I finished the second loop in approximately seven hours, with a total of 12:22 elapsed since the race started.

Loop Three/ This is how it's gonna end?

At some point near the end of the second loop and the start of the third I acquired a stabbing pain in my left patella and a growing stiffness in the front of my left ankle.  I was moving solo at this point - Jeremy and Reece had there own races to run.  I would lose them at aid stations.  Since they have more trail experience (again, I have zero Texas trail experience) I assumed they would eventually pull away.  I'm glad they worked well together and appreciate the time we shared.

This new pairing of pains scared me.  I began to doubt my prospects for finishing.  I never panicked though.  Rather than lose my shit I applied logic to the situation and developed three or four points to present to my crew as to why I should drop.  When I returned to Equestrian at Mile 65 I arrived fully intending to end my run at Cactus Rose right there.  I was not afraid of the pain or a DNF so much as being half way between aid stations and unable to move forward or back.  Any downward motion activated a sharp pain in my knee like a knife and at some point I slipped on a step down and busted my ass.  I lay there for a moment in the dark wondering what the hell I had walked into.

Was I a moron for attempting this course with what I have to train?  People certainly questioned my mental capacity for jumping into such a notorious locale.

I typed a few lines above that I was not scared of the pain.... That's a lie.  I was terrified of what may come.  I over think and anticipate and worry beyond anything that may be reasonable.  I began to project what may come.  I was too fearful of what might happen to ever consider what would happen.  Fortunately I focused so much on building my argument to DNF that I never broke emotionally.  I simply figured it was how it would go.  Getting out before I was completely broken seemed like a good idea.

Remember what I said about deciding who the boss was of our little team?  I obviously lost that vote.  When I presented my case to Melissa she looked me straight in the eye and said NO.  I was sixty-five miles into the race.  It was only 11:30pm.  We still had eighteen hours or so before the end of the race.  More urgently I needed only to cover the next ten miles by seven o'clock in the morning to beat the cut off to start the final loop.

I really thought I had nothing left to give.  I was not tired though I had been moving for eighteen hours.  This was Melissa's time to shine.  Her experience crewing at other races came though in this moment.  She, Grenade and Diana got me food - hot ramen and grilled cheese.  They covered me in blankets.  Melissa and Diana rubbed out my legs to get me warmed up again.

Melissa asked me to give five more miles.  Just five.  They could reach that station by car and she promised to haul me back to our campsite for a brief nap and return me to the same station so I could resume after a rest.

She gave me 600mg Ibuprofen*.  Once I was a ways down the trail I realized my knee no longer hurt.  I did not run yet due to fears of damaging my knee/ankle, but I moved deliberately.  My biggest fear was a steep gravelly drop into a hike-in campsite that I nearly skidded down Saturday morning.  In the dark and with my gimpy knee I anticipated it with dread.

Then I discovered I was at the bottom of the drop.  I didn't realize I had come down.  The Ibuprofen worked.  The dark and limited field of vision due to the headlamp shielded me in the moment from worry.  Fuck yeah!  This was a break I needed.  If you ever watch Bear Grylls and see him start a fire, all he needs is a tiny spark.  I may have just had my spark.  Of course there was still a long way to go.

Melissa and Diana met me at Boyles aid station, Mile 70.  A nap was still on the table, but I was fearful of losing time I may need later in the day.  Also I was worried about clearing The Lodge for my final circuit before 7am.  Joe, the race director, was serious about that deadline and I was not willing to test it.  So Melissa asked me to give five more miles.

The Ibuprofen held just short of Mile 75 and the IT in my right knee was completely silent.  It would never be an issue for the remainder of the race.  Even the usual calf pain and Achilles tenderness never troubled me.

Several people advised me to take the race station to station.  Five mile chunks.  Easy bites.  These bites could choke an elephant, but it's what I had.

Sign on the trail.

I rolled into The Lodge at 4:10am for a nearly eleven hour loop and total time at 23:10.  See how foolish I was considering a sub 24.

Melissa and Grenade were waiting at The Lodge when I completed my third loop.  Someone asked if I had finished the race.  I could only hope.

A couple of carport style tents were set up with three and one half sides walled and a gas heater going.  My crew brought me hot food off the grill - more ramen and grilled cheese.  I popped another 600mg of Ibuprofen.  They cleaned my feet and helped get my socks and shoes back on.  Melissa said that since I had made it thus far, 2.5 hours ahead of the Loop Four cut off, I may as well keep going and bank time for later on.  I think she was reading my mind.  I did not want to stop.  Whereas I was fearful for continuing on earlier in the night, now I was afraid of stopping.

Time to give five more miles and start the final loop.

Loop Four/ A runner possessed

As I made my way out of The Lodge heading back to Boyles I passed several people finishing their third loops.  I wondered how many would make it in before 7am.  Several asked how far out they were and I gave my best estimate of distance.  It was their job to judge the pace needed to cover the distance.  Once I neared the midpoint of this leg I stopped giving distance and merely offered encouragement to continue on.  I was afraid of discouraging anyone.  Then I realized I passed the last straggler.  Maybe this is when my race truly began.

It was still dark.  No moon.  The stairs were brilliant, but did not help light my way.  I was using one lamp on my head and a second affixed to one handheld.

Melissa anticipated me needing two hours to reach Boyles.  She only had one mile to drive from the previous stop to reach Boyles, so she would be on site 15 minutes before I arrived.  The only problem was I beat her there.

Fuck yeah!

I ran - RAN - as much of the flats as possible and reached Mile 80 in 1:45 at 6:27am.  The station was empty, except for race gear, and dark.  I sat on a cot to await Melissa.  The stations each had a table and clock we were required to sign in on arrival so had I simply run through Melissa would have known.  But I am still anticipating her pulling me off the trail for a nap.  They refill my handhelds and feed me.  I keep asking what's the plan.  I want to her what she has to say.  The fire is burning and my confidence is bolstered by the leg just completed.  I want to run.

After the race Melissa told me the offer of a nap was a lie.  She never planned to allow that.  Her boyfriend Grenade was take aback somewhat by the tactic but she was right.  Coaxing back on the course repeatedly for five more miles gave me time to work back into the flow and regain confidence I needed to believe I could finish.

Slipping into Boyles as I did would become a theme through Mile 95.

Coming off the hill into Equestrian at Mile 85 I chugged across the timing mat and caught my crew off guard.  Olga, the volunteer cook assumed I was a pacer and asked were the runner was.  When I informed her I was in fact the runner and running alone she quickly provided me with fresh ramen.

Melissa got me in a chair and assessed my condition.

STRONG.  I popped another 600mg and noted that the back of my left knee was stiffening.  But that would not stop me now.  Diana had been to Bandera for some coffee and hot food.  You might ask what do you eat now to fuel the final fifteen miles of this hell run.  A Sonic breakfast sausage, egg & cheese toaster sandwich with half an order of tater tots and half a large coffee.  I also think they laced it with gun powder.  I would roll out in thirty minutes after my initial arrival.

I saw Jeremy and Reece come into Equestrian from the other side.  They were at Mile 95 and almost home.  Jeremy's parents came to Bandera with him and his mom gave me a sweet motherly hug before the start on Saturday.  I saw her now and thanked her for that hug, saying my mom would appreciate it.  She asked if I wanted another hug now.  To know I was 85 miles in and covered in dust and sweat I was touched by the offer and gratefully accepted.  With that I was out.

Again I ran as much as I could in the flats.  I hiked the grades with as much determination as I could muster.  And when I felt winded and needed to rest my hands on my knees I did.  I played hopscotch with a few other guys walking the trail toward Nachos.

I am not describing how difficult the terrain is at Hill Country because I feel I cannot do it justice.  Pictures cannot even tell the full story.  You have to experience for yourself.  This leg of the counter clockwise loop featured the longest climb on the entire course.  I was thankful for the ball cap which shielded my eyes from the top of the climb.  This way I could only focus on the ten or twenty feet ahead of me.  I looked up on occasion to check my line then quickly returned my gaze to my immediate footing.

I reached Nachos in good time and better spirits.  Apparently I was ahead of expectations because my groupies were sitting on some rocks reviewing the course maps.  I was making a habit of announcing my arrival at the stations with a loud WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! when I knew my crew was there.  I sat for a few minutes to adjust my laces while they filled my handhelds again.  I was out in seven minutes.

When I rolled into Nachos I was with a couple of other guys.  One messaged me after I got home to congratulate me and say he was suffering a sinus infection during the race.  He eventually finished.  I'm glad to know he made it through.  The other guy didn't look so good and admitted to sleeping on the trail for "seventeen minutes".  As I stepped back onto the trail I committed to putting as much ground between me and these guys.  Not out of spite.  I just needed a motivator to get my ass moving with grim determination.  The leg from Nachos to the final pass through Equestrian saw me run a great deal.  And I ran hard.  Hill Country has horse trails and occasionally I met riders on the hoof.  As I came through the main parking area for day riders I met a crowd whom may have had a runner in the race; they were horse people as well.  Thankfully they shouted encouragement and applauded my efforts.

This leg was largely alone.  My mind was all over the place.  How would I finish?  What would I feel?  How would it look?  How soon could I get to speak with my family?  I also focused on running hard enough to maintain energy for any remaining climbs and not bust my ass (or face) on a rock.

I slipped into Equestrian with my approach shielded by trees.  One guy was standing by the check-in table.  When he saw me I put one finger to my lips to mime SHHHHHH then let out another loud yelp.  I think my crew as taken aback by how strong I was becoming.  The walking over night, when all I could do was walk, was certainly paying off now.

Five miles to go.  You'd be smiling too.  Or not.

There was time to refill both bottles and a quick picture.  Four minutes later I was back to work.  The first half would be fairly easy.  I moved with pace but walked more often as the final two miles would present nasty obstacles to navigate.  I would not let this journey end within earshot of finish.  Actually the trail does pass within a few hundred yards of the The Lodge with about forty minutes to go.  [On Saturday ] I was hard approaching Mile 50 when I could hear the crowd and have another couple of miles to go. Soon I exited the loop and onto the final straight away.  At one point in the distance I thought I saw my parents.  I knew it wasn't possible.  Bushes and trees can play tricks on the mind.

With a few more twists and turns I was almost there.  I jumped the iPod to Kid Cudi's Heart of a Lion and launch my final assault on the finish line.

Suddenly a long straight away revealed one of the buildings at The Lodge site.  I could see Melissa in distance as she scrambled back the line.

I pressed the pace even harder.  Through the gully of a dry creek bed.  The lyrics were pounding in my ears as I crossed final rocky yards.  Then up and onto the grass.  I launched my handhelds to other side of the path and leaned in.  Here is the video of my finish.

Final circuit completed in 8:40.

Total time from start to finish - 32:22:49

Done.

Post Cactus Rose thoughts

I ran through the finish because I did not know how I would react to finishing.  I anticipated a flood of emotion.  When I finally stopped I was hyperventilating, nauseous and nearly spasmodic with tears.  Then I realized Grenade was recording me and I settled down.  The next thing I knew I heard a race official call out to come get my buckle.  MY BUCKLE!!!  Oh yeah.  I have to get my buckle.

After I collected myself and sucked down a Guinness I told the race director I loved everything about the weekend, but there was NO CHANCE IN HELL I would ever come back.  The buckle had been earned.  I proved I could hang on the sickest terrain and survive in spite of zero hill training.  There would be nothing else to prove in Hill Country State Park.  I relayed this conversation to Melissa.  Confidently she said I'd reconsider and get the itch to cut my time on a second attempt.  And dammit if she wasn't right.  On the flight from Atlanta to Myrtle Beach I caught myself replaying moments in the race and how I might have shortened aid stops.  Guess it means I want another crack at Cactus Rose.  I definitely see another ultra in my future.

A good man caring for a dirty foot.

Congratulating my new friend on a race well run.

I tried to chug it before it was replaced with Guinness.

Nothing says Mission Accomplished quite like a sheet cake.  Damn tasty too.

Best crew in the world.

The combination of Altra Instincts, Injinji toe socks and gaiters really helped prevent blisters.  I had a couple of hot spots which were treated with moleskin.  I applied Bodyglide Saturday morning, never again and suffered only one small blister.  My socks and shoes reek like sewage but stayed dry.

I cannot say enough about Melissa, Grenade and Diana.  They gave up their weekends, sleep and general comfort to help me see the end as a one hundred mile finisher.  They are forever on The Good List.

Don't call it a skirt.

*My use of Ibuprofen - While at The Lodge at Mile 75 one of the other runners overheard me saying I was using Ibuprofen. He cautioned that I urinate as often as possible to flush out my kidneys.  Renal failure is a definite possible with the overuse of NSAIDS and dehydration.  My protocol was 600mg every ten miles from Mile 65.  At most I consumed 2400mg total.  I drank 80 ounces of water with Nuun between each does and stopped to pee even when I did not feel an urge to do so.  I surprised myself by holding urine even when I felt no urge.  By Sunday night normal bodily functions has resumed and there appears to be no long term ill effects.  I don't use OTC pain killers often and used what my crew believed to be the bare minimum to get through the final 35 miles.  I may have taken only another 2000mg since the race ended (I am writing this on the following Wednesday).

One difference between my first chase for a buckle and this past weekend is that I never felt the emotional break that is expected with these events.  Even a marathon can crush one's spirit.  It nearly happened at my first marathon.  It certainly did happen at Lumberjack.  The potential for a DNF collapsed on upon me like a house of bricks and I carried those scars into this race.  Though I said all the right things and felt good both physically and emotionally, that concern was tucked away waiting for the right moment to pounce.  When I sensed the tide turning against me I tried to be logical.  I tried to think the situation through.  I thought I knew what I did or did not want to do.  Having Melissa refuse to listen to me was the difference between coming home empty handed and coming home to this picture.

Not sure I'll ever wash this off my car.  I know it's a minivan.  Don't laugh.  You know I can chase your ass down.

I have sometimes written about running with an audience.  This race was for me alone.  No dedicated miles.  No ideas I intended to consider on the run.  Hell, I had no go-to thoughts to manage the potential emotional hurdles if and when they came.  Like most things I just went.  However, I always approach my training and racing as if someone were watching me, judging me, observing me to see how genuine I am in these pursuits.  Last night I received this note from Diana, a member of my crew, and think it most appropriate to include here.  I have not asked permission but feel it sums up any sort of race, whether it is a marathon or ultra, no matter how one is involved in the event:

What inspired me, with you, is that were ready to go down.  I think you were okay with being done with where you were.  You weren't convinced, but you were testing the waters and had a good defense behind you.  And out of thin-air, you let something else guide you.  Melissa wouldn't give you the out.  She made it known that every person that was there was standing with you and would go with you, regardless.  And we would have.  You just got up and went.  After that, there was no stopping you.  Your glory was in those final thirty miles or so.

That made me know that when the darkest hours are upon me in my own endeavors, I don't have to rely on myself as long as I have my support group, the people that believe in me, to carry me through.

The brightest hours are often directly on the coattails of the darkest.  You have proven that.  I will never forget that, and I thank you for the experience.

When a person walks in faith, there isn't a thing to stop him.

I did not get up to satisfy some need that was in my crew, to please them or make them happy.  I got up because I knew they would do whatever they could to see me through.  The only condition I made was to go alone.  I had no pacer, having committed to covering the distance alone unless in the company of other racers.  But I always had their welcome arms as I arrived at the aid stations.  We reflected the joy in each others eyes, knowing that each of us would leave Bandera as something more than when we arrived.  I do not how that will translate to my real life, but I know it is a life worth living.

My final advice to anyone considering an ultra, as I relayed to a friend making her first attempt this weekend, goes like this:

Be strong.  Rely on the team you have to help you.  Do not forget - whether it is going good or bad, it will go the other way before you are done.  Unless you break something keep moving forward.  I had people tell me those things and believed them, only to forget at the worst time, when I was most vulnerable to my fears.  Then I was tricked into going back into the darkness and battling the demon of fear, for I was more scared of potential regret [in not finishing].

Remember, no matter what happens, to run for you.  Your family and friends believe in you.  I believe in you.  But run for yourself.  You may discover a strength and conviction you never dreamt possible.

I think this sentiment holds true regardless of the discipline, the event or the distance.  You have to train, prepare and go.  Forever moving forward.

With that, I bid you Hasta Luego.

Post script - if you have any questions regarding topics you feel were omitted or left untouched, please ask.  I will either respond in the comments second or privately, depending on the nature of the question.

Also, it has been pointed out that I made a grave omission in not crediting my wife for her support during the build up to this weekend.  I think such praise requires its own attention.  I shall rectify that soon enough.

Good Intentions?

I am a licensed REALTOR.  You might say it is my day job.  As a sideline I shall on occasion teach a pre-licensing class.  We do not discuss how to stage a home or hold an open house, but rather cover the material which the Real Estate Commission deemed necessary knowledge.  A large portion of the text examines the law.  One thing I have to remind students is that the law only cares on which side you stand.  Your best intentions, no matter how sincere, mean nothing if you run afoul of the law.

Students will often argue that they would never break the law.  They would never even consider doing something illegal or immoral.  Unfortunately that does not matter.  The law is very clear in this regard.

What is not so clear is human interaction.  The consequences of our words or actions often outweigh whatever good we may hope to achieve.

An ill timed joke may cause more tears than laughs.

Advice may be interpreted as interference when your goal is nothing more than to provide an alternate perspective.

I think often on perspective - how my view of reality may differ from another person's view of the same situation.  The only immutable fact is that once the words leave my mouth (or "send" is pressed) I have lost the ability to control the message.  In many cases the original message behind the words is lost.  After all, perspective is colored by our own experiences. 

The lesson I've relearned is that good intentions don't mean a damn thing when you are suspected of crossing a line, of involving yourself in matters that don't concern you, or in a situation that ultimately is none of your business.

The trick is you may be asked your opinion.  You may be called in to consult.  Your advice may sincerely be needed and valued.  Just know that your audience is larger than any one person.  Your impact extends beyond any one person.

I have had opportunities to offer advice or a differing perspective.  What I have learned (or am reminded) is that someone will not always welcome my opinion.

At that moment intention is squashed by interpretation.  To the offended intention does not overcome misjudged actions.  But by no means take this as a apology.

I do not regret my actions.  I only regret the outcome.

In real estate, good intentions that run afoul of the law cost one a license.  In my case good intentions can cost me friendships and the company of great people.  It seems that losing my license would be easier to accept.