New Blog Page

Hey!  What are you doing here?!  Go read my blog, it's on a new page.  http://theverticalmind.blogspot.com/ All my new posts will be there from now on, as well as the old ones.  So don't come back here!  Read, subscribe, follow or whatever at http://theverticalmind.blogspot.com/.

Kaffee Magic

We have our own coffee machine in our office at work, literally in the same room I work in, with a cabinet full of various coffee mugs in the kitchen at the end of the hall.  Generally one of the first guys in will grab a bunch of mugs and bring them in the office.  Almost all of us have a mug that always go for, but occasionally an orphan mug will show up in the office.  I've gotten the same one a few times when my mug wasn't there.  Each time I've gotten this cup I swore it was black, but when I was drinking out of it I noticed there was some picture on it.  I always thought that it was too early to really remember which color coffee mug I grabbed.  Until today.  I grabbed the same black mug this morning and filled it up with the hot caffeinated magic and settled in at my desk.  I waited a minute or two for it to cool off and then noticed a picture of a city wrapping around the mug.  Wait, what the fuck?  I know I grabbed a black mug, don't fuck with me.  But there was this damn picture again.  After about the third sip I noticed the black returning from the top and down to about where I had drank.  That's when my Sherlock Holmes skills kicked in.  Holy shit it's one of those mood rings but in my mug!  Fascinated I drank some more and watched night fall over the city on my mug.  When the whole thing was black again I went back to the coffee machine and watched the picture reappear as it filled up with the hot caffeinated magic again.  Another case solved.

 I knew that damn thing was black

In more exciting news, I drove on the Autobahn for the first time last week.  Another guy from work and I had to drive 4 hours to a paper plant to help a customer with a busted pump, and we got to take a company car.  It wasn't a Porsche or a Beamer, but we had a turbo diesel VW Passat.  It's clearly no race car but I still got it up to 210 km/h (130mph).  Even though I was on the Autobahn I was still checkin my mirror for 5-0.  While on the infamous Autobahn, I became aware of a few things.  First, there are parts of the Autobahn where you DO have a speed limit.  They generally don't last long though.  The second thing is that when you're in a section with no limit, people haul major ass.  Cruising speed is about 180 km/h (110mph) for the middle lane.  If you're in the left lane, your last name better be Andrette.  No joke.  I had to keep an eye on my mirror for people coming up behind me.  It's not like the US where people will weave in and out of traffic like it's Nascar to get around the slow pokes.  That shit is illegal here.  You have to pass on the left.  The amazing thing is that people here actually do it.  There aren't too many jackwagons snailing it in the left lane.  You might find a few in the middle lanes and definitely in the right lane, but the left lane is a legitimate fast lane.

Last thing I wanted to mention was that this I'm changing the name of this blog to "The Vertical Mind."  I've been wanting to change it to something that relates more to what I write about, which mainly consists of my outdoor pursuits and what I'm getting into here in Germany.  I also wanted to wait until I came up with the new design.  I chose the name "The Vertical Mind" because most of my so-called "outdoor pursuits" consist of going up and then eventually down mountains.  It also touches on the 'moving forward' (or upward) mindset that I try to live by.  For me that means training for a race, climbing 5.13, or finding that dream job.  Anyone that knows me has surely seen my competitiveness.  That's what I'm talking about.  The desire to never 'settle for anything less than your best.'  Some people are content with what's put in front of them but I want to keep moving forward, or upward

I won't be posting on this blog anymore but I'll keep the site alive for another month or so in case anyone loses the link to the new blog.

New blog link:  http://theverticalmind.blogspot.com/

Time's a wasting!

When the hell am I going to start training? Or writing on this blog? Or go somewhere exciting?  Time's a wasting. I'm living in Germany and I have yet to ski in the Alps.  Or climb.  What the hell is wrong with me?  I got comfortable, that's what.  Lazy is more like it.  I've started to settle for whatever was put in front of me instead of going after the things I wanted.  It's about time to put that hat back in the closet, or burn it, and put my game face back on.  I've got marathon training to do!

I've been extremely lucky with meeting such an awesome group of friends.  They showed zero hesitation in adopting a crazy American into their crew (what were they thinking?!).  I'll never forget the kindness they've shown me since the day I arrived.  But they are some lazy ass Germans!  I thought everyone would be an athletic phenomena.  So much for that idea.  No one (in my group of friends here) has the slightest desire to get outside and DO something.  OK so one of my friends is really into mountain biking but he's been playing the "it's too cold" card since early November.  Fine, it's cold.  Now pull on a pair of spandex and let's ride dammit!

It's not fair to put all the blame on my friends.  I'm generally pretty active and rarely depend on anyone else to join me.  I almost always run by myself and when I can't find a climbing partner I take no shame in going to the gym for a boulder session.  So why haven't I done that here?  Because I'm full of excuses.  No running partner, no climbing partner, no car, too cold, raining, blah blah blah.  I let myself get lazy and get away with it.  Well I've just put a stop to that.  I forced myself to man up and go for a run every day this week; except yesterday but I did core training instead.  Gotta keep those abs looking nice.  I haven't done any climbing yet but past weekend my hangboard finally came in.  All I need to do now is build a stand and get it mounted.  And hope I don't step on any nails in the process.

Your Representative

The other day I caught myself wandering in the depths of my own thoughts and realized something that I never knew about myself.  I wear a pretty heavy facade when I first meet someone.  In fact I wear that bitch half off my face like the Phantom of the Opera until I'm really comfortable around someone.  Of course this all depends on the situation and the type of person.  If I meet a really outgoing person, chances are I'll let my guard down a lot quicker.  Why?  Because that person is being genuine.  They're being themselves and no one else.  It eliminates that initial sense of unnecessary competition, that need to prove yourself to them.  If they can be themselves then I can too.  Instead I usually keep a serious tone until I have a feeling for the other person, until I have a sense of how they'll react to my characteristic sarcasm.  On second thought, I don't think anyone's ready for that.

I think it's OK to feel someone out when you first meet them but we should be careful of how much of a facade we wear.  Like Chris Rock said, when you first meet someone you're meeting their representative.  Well guess what?  No one wants to meet your representative.  They're stuck up, too quiet or too damn loud.  Drop the charades and just be yourself.  Chances are people will like you better.  If not, at least you won't have to wonder if you should have just acted like yourself instead of putting on a show.  Ditch the mask and tell your representative to take a hike.

Incandescent Rebellion!

I came home and turned the lights on in my apartment today to witness another bulb burst into light bulb shrapnel.  The only lights in my living room are the overhead lights which have, had, 4 bulbs.  I'm down to one.  When the first one blew out I thought psssh, there's still 3 left.  Missing one bulb isn't going to kill me.  A few months later the second one blew out.  Mother fucker.  Whatever, it doesn't need to be that bright in here.  I've got a skylight window anyway.  Today the fourth one shattered into a million pieces of light bulb shrapnel when I hit the switch and scared the shit out of me.  One bulb ain't gonna cut it.  It's dark.  But there is still hope.  There lies the untapped resource of the overhead stove light.  At 18 inches long and 72 inches high (yes, that is 6 feet, thanks for doing the math) is a fluorescent to rescue me from the dark.  That thing by the way, works like a champ.  I can almost turn off the overhead lights and just run on the stove light.  Almost.  That wouldn't do anything about the two light bulbs that blew out in my bedroom.  Otherwise I'd probably put off buying light bulbs until the stove light eventually went out.  I'll probably end up buying a box of CFL's this weekend, or perhaps tomorrow after work if I'm feeling really ambitious.

A few days ago I decided to give this blog a facelift.  Before now I was using a template that someone made.  With those things your creativity is kinda limited to picking from a pool of pictures and swapping some color schemes around.  It kinda felt like borrowing a hoody from somone and telling all your friends it's yours.  Since I'm not a programmer or web designer, I'm kinda stuck with those templates.  What you can do though is upload your own picture.  So I got creative with powerpoint and paint and came up with the header that's now at the top of the page.  My pixelated work of art is far from perfect but it's my p.o.s. and I'm diggin' it for now.  Eventually I'll get crafty with my camera and make a more stylish background with my own hardware.  Until then enjoy the pixels.

Blog Fail continued

For all those wondering, it gets cold here in Germany.  And it snows.  It's been snowing on and off since Sunday night and it hasn't broken 30 degrees yet.  Did I mention winter was here?  He ain't packin' up any time soon by the looks of it.

Last week was my first week back in Germany and it just couldn't wait to get started.  Seven guys from the US, all Netzsch regional sales managers, came to Germany last week for pump training.  Guess who was in charge of most of the training.  The American.  Lucky for me, we all speak English.  American English at least.  We went through assembly, disassembly, competitor analysis and a few application visits to a biogas facility (farm) a wastewater treatment plant and a paper mill.  All went well except with this one guy.  He wasn't exactly firing on all cylinders.  When you ask too many dumb questions people start wondering if you belong here.  I have strong doubts about this guy.  Moving on though.  The best part about colleagues coming to visit is going out to eat.  I ate out for lunch and dinner every day that week.  Lucky for me because I didn't have any food in the house when I got back from my break in the US.  I ate damn good that week and all on the company's wallet.  All for the sake of entertaining our guests.  I was too busy chatting up the waitress, but that's beside the point.

We ended the week on Friday by going out to dinner in Munich.  Our development team and all the Americans made for a grand total of 13.  First came the biers, then came the schnapps.  Then dinner.  Schnapps first.  I snagged one of the bottles that they came in, each one containing exactly two shots.

It's not expensive or anything like that, but it's got a nifty top that you can close back up, as if you were going to save your second shot for some reason.  I've seen it beer bottles before, both here and back in the States.  Nothing new, but still pretty cool on a single-serve schnapps bottle.  After dinner a bunch of the guys decided to go find a club.  I tagged along with the crew that opted to turn in early since I had to be up, and functionable, for a soccer match the next day.

Blog Fail

I have committed complete blog failure.  I let it go stale and now it's like some abandoned car on the side of the road that hasn't been repossessed yet because the township doesn't want to pay to tow the shit heap.  It's been over a month since my last update and it wasn't even an exciting post.  Neither was the post before that, or before that.  EPIC FAIL.  Last month I went back home to good old Pennsylvania for the first time in 7 months of being in Germany.   It's pretty wild that I've been out of the country for that long.  In some ways it doesn't really feel like it's been that long.  Kind of like how a semester of school can go by so quick.  Then you start studying for finals and realize exactly how much crap you "learned" and now have to re-learn just to pass the test.  It feels like that except I don't have the test to worry about.  I might kill someone if there was a test.  Thinking back on all the stuff I've done since being here and all the things I've learned on and off the job and then putting that into a timeline makes me see that it really has been 7 months.  Seven great months.  Sure work gets in the way and sends my morale on a nosedive from time to time, but the weekends have a way of muting all that.

Being home was nice though.  I've been given the privilege of the German vacation schedule which means I get 30 days per year.  Eat that!  I took a good chunk of my vacation time to come home during the holidays and visit friends and family.  Three weeks of no work and staying with my parents let me shut off my brain and tell stress to piss off .  I got to go out to lunch (or dinner) with friends.  I FINALLY finished the mammoth Stephen King book I've been reading.  I even made it out snowboarding thanks to a friend that had some extra gear I could borrow since all mine was still in Germany.  I promised I'd go snowboarding in the Alps, with proof of course, and it looks like I might have a chance of doing that in a few weeks.  All in all it was nice to be home.  I will say that it absolutely sucked hearing how good the Eagles were doing all season only to watch them get butt-raped two games in a row, pissing away their chances in the playoffs.  Same old birds.

I've been stashing some things to talk about on this blog.  Right now it's all on paper but it will eventually makes its way into the next post.  To be continued...

Please sir, can I have some more?

I promised there was more coming, so here is more.  It started snowing here in Germany a few weeks ago.  Within a day or two it accumulated to about a foot.  I was pretty pumped to see the town covered in snow.  I went for a run on the trails and it looked even better.  The entire ground, normally blanketed in bright green moss, had been painted white with snow while the trees boasted a nice coating of their own.  I didn't get a picture since I was running but I managed to get a picture of the trees outside my apartment before the snow was melted away by rain the following week.

Since then we've gotten a few dustings on top, nothing more.  It was still enough to get me pumped for the skiing season.  I'm looking to plan a weekender in the Alps with some friends after the holidays.  Speaking of, I'll be coming back to PA this weekend!  I've been hording my vacation days so I'm able to spend three weeks relaxing at home with an additional week of work in Exton.  In all I'll be home for four weeks, which ain't bad.  With the German vacation schedule I'll still have 14 days of vacation for the next year.  That gives me about three weeks to play with, which is way more than we'd get in the US.  I'm looking at a trip to Gardasee, Italy in the spring with my mountain biking buddy from work.  We'll probably go for a long weekend.  After that I'll start looking at a trip to England.  A colleague of mine offered me a place to stay and a tour.  I'm thinking another long weekend trip.  That still leaves me with plenty of time to plan another trip or two before my time is up here.  I haven't put too much thought as to where else I want to go yet, but I've gotten a handful of suggestions.  I'm thinking Spain is a must.  It's all just words right now, but I'll post the pictures after it all happens.

Kicking some virtual ass!

No, I have not forgotten about this blog.  It's just that I've been spending a lot more time with my Playstation since Call of Duty: Black Ops came out.  That sounds like telling someone "it's not that I don't love you, I just love (insert name of love affair here) more."  My computer is a bit jealous too so don't feel bad.  For those not in the know, Black Ops is a first-person shooter video game based on the Cold War and involves a lot of shooting and outsmarting other players across the internet.  And it is ridiculously addicting.  I wouldn't call myself a gamer,  but I feel like some people who don't play video games at all have the wrong impression about games like Call of Duty or Halo where the simplified objective is "to kill people."  Yes, you kill people.  But it's not just the virtue of shooting someone that draws people to play such games.  It has a lot to do with entertaining your imagination as well as testing your strategic abilities.

Lots of folks like getting lost in books (I'm one of them).  Books give you the opportunity to imagine yourself as one of the characters, doing all the crazy things that they're doing.  Movies provide a similar outlet in that lots of viewers will imagine themselves as one of the characters, making them feel like a super hero, a genius, a badass or whatever.  Video games let you do the same thing but with a level of control.  That control is very rewarding in that you know when you've done something wrong, and failed, and when you've done something right, outsmarted the enemy and downright kicked some virtual ass.

I haven't turned into a hermit yet and I have proof.  You can click here to check out some pics of me hanging with my friends at a bar that just opened up in town a few weeks ago.  Girls like me here.  It doesn't hurt to be the only guy in the group that will dance either, after a few weissbiers of course.

More to come soon.  No lie.

Where's my stamp?

As I might have mentioned to a few people,  I was in Budapest this week.  A colleague was giving a presentation/training on our current pumps to some of our reps and distributors around the area (Hungary, Romania, Slovenia, etc).  I was there mostly to observe since this the same presentation that I will be giving all across the US when I return.  There were 16 of us that had gotten together at the Ramada hotel representing about 8 or so different countries and everyone spoke English, sort of.  The presenter is from England so he was the only real English speaker.  Americans don't really speak English according to England, so I didn't count.  Americans pretty much stole the English language and then started changing things we didn't like.  No wonder England doesn't like us.  We steal everything from them (e.g. music and David Beckham).  Some of the group could understand more than they could speak, which was fine since Netzsch would be doing most of the talking anyway.

Let me take a step back for a second.  I met up with my colleague from England and we took a taxi to the hotel.  We got there around 2PM and didn't have to be anywhere until 8PM for dinner at the hotel.  So we dropped our bags off in the rooms, grabbed a few maps and headed out into town.  Budapest is divided into two areas, Buda and Pest (pronounced Pescht).  They are divided by the Danube River.  Our hotel was on the Pest side.  Anyhow, we walked into town and managed to navigate to the subway and locate a place where we could get some food and a couple beers.  Afterward we trekked down to the river which would lead us to the Parliament building.  It's one of many buildings there that still maintain that old style architecture that looks like it came from ancient Greece or Rome.  Magnificent sculptures and artwork on the outside of the buildings.  Well we got a little too close to the Parliament building and a security guard in a green poncho swooped down to the ground like batman to scold us.  A little startled by this angry man, we laughed and continued on our way.  My partner in crime thought it was funny that he immediately started yelling at us in English rather than Hungarian.  I suggested that he knew we were foreigners because no other idiots would hop over the chain-linked fence that surrounds the building.  After that we used our inherited manly sense of direction to get back to the subway that would get us within walking distance to the hotel.  We even managed to buy the correct tickets from the automated machine rather than going up to the teller.  After getting off of the subway we were greeted by more security guards at the top of the escalator asking to see our tickets.  Fuck.  I had just thrown mine out in the trashcan at the bottom of the escalator.  I figured I was already off the subway so I didn't need it anymore.  Well they weren't buying it.  My accomplice and I both tried to talk our way out of paying the fine but they weren't budging.  6000 forints ($1 US = 200 forints).  Having been defeated, I payed the 30 bucks so they would shut up and we could get back to the hotel for dinner.  My stomach was a rumblin!

Dinner was pretty interesting.  The food was good, but the portions were pretty small.  I'm still hooked on the American diet which means I don't want to see any white space on that plate.  Fill it up!  I ate everything that was put in front of me and made short work of the bread bowls.  The rest of the night was filled with lots of international jokes and conversation that kept us up until about midnight.  The presentation went fairly well the next day.  I enjoyed the witty jokes that were mixed in while also learning a bit more about some technical issues regarding our pump design.  The technical information proved to be too much for some people while others were simply overloaded.  The presentation took about 8 hours, plus all the coffee breaks that kept everyone awake (mostly).

After the training was over we all got ready to go out for dinner at a local Hungarian restaurant.  Again, the food was good.  The portions were a bit better than the first dinner we had, but still falling short of the 'American standard.'  Following dinner we drove around to some other historical buildings that were dressed in the same ancient looking architecture as the Parliament building.  Imagining how these building were made without all the modern technology we have now is mind blowing.  It's incredible how they were able to much such large structures back then and make sure that everything is in perfect alignment.  We made about 4 or 5 stops before arriving back at the hotel around 1AM.  Lucky me, I had to be up at 6 so I could be on time for my flight back to Munich.  I was pretty destroyed by the time I made it back to the office.  Somehow I snapped out of it just before a web conference that afternoon.

When I got to Budapest no one checked for my passport.  There was no check in point when I got off the flight.  You simply pick up your bags and leave the airport.  Where the hell is my stamp?  What good is a passport if you can't fill it up with stamps of where you've been?  I want proof dammit!  I asked someone at an information center and she told me that you can travel pretty much anywhere in Europe without needing to show a passport (other than to get your boarding pass).  There are a few countries that this does not hold true with, but they're like the red headed step children of Europe.  I made sure to hold onto a handful of Hungarian cash and coin, so at least I've got something to show for being in Budapest.  Aside from nearly getting arrested for trespassing and not having a subway ticket that is.

Prideless Independence

A week or so ago I had a conversation over the phone with a friend of mine, all in German.  At first I didn't think too much about it.  Heck I've been here for six months I ought to be able to hold a conversation, even if I still sound like a 3rd grader.  The next day when we got together, he told me how surprised he was that I never once broke out of German.  Even more surprised was his girlfriend.  She had asked who was on the phone and was taken aback when she learned that I was on the other side of the call.  It would have been a dead giveaway had we been speaking English, but since we were conversing in German there was no direct indication that it was me.  I'll admit, both of their reactions made me feel good.  It was a sign that learning to speak German, somewhat fluently, wasn't going to be impossible.

A few days later, I revisited those thoughts and it made me realize something else.  Since moving to Germany I've become more independent as well as learning how to ask for help.  That's not an oxymoron.  I've always thrived on being independent.  For as long as I can remember I've always been one to do things on my own, to do things my way and to do it without help.  Yeah, I was that stubborn ass and I still am.  It is that quality though that drives me.  It is the fuel that gets me through grueling track workouts, the fuel that gets me up the mountain, or simply the fuel that gets me through a shitty day at work.  It has been the driving force behind my determination and persistence in nearly all that I do.  My tenacious character isn’t all gravy though.  In fact it’s come back to bite me in the ass on a few occasions.  Like when taking a gamble that I was right about something, only to get it really wrong and watch it blow up in my face.  Or procrastinating something for too long because I was too stubborn to ask someone for help.  But when learn from our mistakes.

Living in Germany has taught me how to better balance the two.  There are times where I needed to be self sufficient while also needing to check my pride at the door.  Case in point, my survival instincts kicked into high gear when I needed to get some food in the fridge.  When I first got here, I had no means of transportation other than a good pair of running shoes and no means of calling anyone unless I wanted to make like Croc Dundee and wake up the whole neighborhood.  So I laced up my shoes and started my hunt for town.  On the border of walking home in defeat after not finding a store after an hour of searching, I made a final push and asked someone for directions (in German).  I made it to the store that day and stocked up.  I could tell similar stories of finding the laundry mat, or establishing a bank account, or getting a cell phone.  Some things I could manage with a determined search through town while other things I needed to ask for help from my friends.  I wasn’t really interested in messing up something like a bank account or getting raped by a ridiculous cell phone plan.

Being independent has taken on a new meaning since moving to Germany.  It means being able to get past the fear of trying new things while knowing when to let go of your pride and ask for help.  I checked both at the airport.

Boundary Line

The climbing vs. running analysis spawned from thinking about my climbing technique, strengths, weaknesses, goals and my interest in trying new types of climbing.  

Spending a good deal of my time at the climbing gym after work (at home), I generally flock to the boulder walls as many do.  It's a great way to build power and expand your quiver of climbing maneuvers while sharing the excitement of working a project with other friends and climbers.  It's also more convenient than enlisting a climbing partner to share belays with on the lead wall.

I really enjoy bouldering and the sensation you get after unlocking the moves to a tricky problem and nabbing the send.  After spending month after month in the gym and occasionally outside, my bouldering strength went up.  I pushed myself to climb outside of my comfort zone and started sending problems that were a grade or two above what I perceived to be my climbing ability.  It wasn't long before I started to wonder what I was capable of on roped climbs.  What could I do if I pushed myself outside of my comfort zone in lead climbing the way I had in bouldering?  That's when I started looking at my strengths and weaknesses as a climber and compared them to that of my running abilities.

While lead climbing together, a mentor of mine told me that I climb with intent in that every hand and foot placement is chosen carefully and mindfully to prepare for the next move, a skill that is generally present among efficient climbers.  Efficient climbers.  Kinda sounds like a distance runner doesn't it?  I started making comparisons and quickly found that my strengths as a runner (stride efficiency, moderate power, moderate endurance, race strategy) dictated my strengths as a climber.  Racing mostly at 800 meters - 5k, I fall right into the 'mid distance' or 'sport climbing' range.

I started redirecting my efforts to top rope and sport climbing at the gym whenever I could snag a partner.  Before long I was toping on 5.12's and leading 5.11's.  The grades themselves were nothing to brag about, but for me it was huge progress.  When I stopped thinking of climbs as impossible or 'above my level' I started climbing harder. I learned to do away with the fear of failure and started pushing that boundary line out farther and farther.  Now that I know more about my strengths and weaknesses as a climber (and a runner) I know where to focus my efforts to push the boundary line out even more.

"Fear nothing.  Defy your boundaries."

Climbing vs Running

Coming from a running background, I think of different climbing styles in terms of race distances.  Bouldering is most like sprinting because both practices require raw strength and power with dedication to form.  I look at roped climbs as mid-long distance events due to the focus on endurance and efficiency.  During some eh, spare time, I gave the analogy more thought.  This is what I came up with.

100, 200 meters = Bouldering
400 meters= High Ball Bouldering
800 - 1600 meters = Sport Climbing / Top Rope
3200 - 10k = Marathon Sport Climbing (Sharma style)
10k - Marathon = Trad/Big Wall Climbing
Triathlon/Ironman  = Mountaineering/Alpinism

I didn't really put much thought to top rope but decided to throw it in with sport climbing under the 800 - 1600 meter range because most top rope climbs are the same length as single pitch sport climbs.  Marathon sport climbing gets its own category because people like Sharma have noticeably pushed the limits of single pitch sport climbing.  A lot of the routes he's established, like the ones in Catalunya, Spain or Yangshuo, China, required a special rope made by Petzl.  The next tier is Trad and Big Wall climbing.  I chose the race equivalents above because most Trad climbs dip into multipitch territory.  Trad climbing is often the gateway drug into Big Wall climbing just like 5k's and 10k's eventually lead to half marathons and full marathons.  Often times marathons lead into the ultimate challenge of Triathlons, Ironman's and Adventure Racing just as Trad and Big Wall climbing may one day lead to full-on mountaineering and alpine climbing.

I didn't add ice climbing to this list because I didn't want to unfairly place it somewhere.  I would probably put it alongside both the Trad and Mountaineering/Alpinism categories because the skillset is different than other forms of climbing, just as marathoning and ultra-marathoning are far different than your local 5k.  In marathons and beyond, you have to worry about replenishing nutrients midrace, unlike a 5k or 10k.

The comparison was just for fun, but if you have any comments feel free to leave them below.

Funkin' Foot

These last few days of having a hole in my foot have posed a bit of a problem.  I generally walk or bike to work, or anywhere else I need to go for that matter.  On Monday I was able to walk to work (my bike was still in the parking lot from not riding it home on Friday) since the hole had already begun to close over the weekend and was starting to feel better.  Thanks to the new hole the doc made that afternoon and the plastic apparatus he placed in there, I wouldn't be walking anywhere far.  By Tuesday afternoon I got fed up with my immobility and rode my bike home using mostly my left leg and very slight assistance from my right.  I could only place my heel on the pedal but I was able to travel pain free, sort of.  Stopping was a bit challenging because my natural tendency is to put my right foot down first.  Not smart.  I rode to and from work the next day and had the plastic insert removed that afternoon.  Now the wound could officially start to heal and I would be able to wear a shoe again.  NOW WE'RE TALKIN'!  Yesterday I was able to walk around without anyone noticing a problem.  My arch is still tender where the nail went in but it's healing nicely now.


So for the last week I kinda felt like this guy



The nail was the same size.  My reaction wasn't quite the same as Marv's, but it sure didn't tickle.  Today I'm finally able to wear a sock and shoe again, which means I can cover up the colossal funk that spawned from my foot being bandaged up for 7 days.   I can even ride my bike with my feet properly positioned on the pedals.  The doc says I should be completely pain free and ready to rumble within the next day or two.  WAHOO!  As much as I love having a 'get out of jail free' excuse for playing video games, I'm looking forward to playing outside again and getting back in the gym.  The guy I weaseled into climbing with me before all this happened will be away on vacation next week, but I've got him locked in for climbing the week after.  That gives me plenty of time to make up for the training I missed out on because of this:

After the hole was re-opened and slightly enlarged

Nailed Down

The two things I love to do the most are run and climb.  I've been hitting the trails more often to satisfy my burning desires to escape the cage that is my apartment.  I'm still lacking big time in the climbing department.  Being in Germany, you would expect me to have climbed in the Alps already.  Or at least on some mountain around here.  Neither is the case.  The tricky thing about climbing is finding a partner that you trust.  That trust doesn't come easy.  It generally requires multiple climbing sessions together and a thorough knowledge of the sport and its many risks.  Since departing the U.S. I have been severed (almost) from my trusty adventure partner and have yet to find a substitute.  Actually none of my friends are intrigued by the idea of climbing outside and so far only one has agreed to climb inside with me.  I jumped on the opportunity last week and weaseled him into going climbing tomorrow after work.  Friday afternoon, the plague returned.  In search of some wood for a freestanding hangboard I'm planning to build, I went dumpster diving in the bin at work.  I found a few pieces that I thought might serve a purpose in my design before a stealthy 1/8" nail found its way into the arch of my foot.

As signals of pain made their way to my brain I quickly raised my right leg and watched the 4" long nail reveal the other half inch that was previously residing in my foot.  Within 3 whole seconds after stepping on the nail I was out of the dumpster sitting on the ground with my shoe and sock torn off applying pressure to the hole in my foot.  Feeling embarrassed about not seeing the nail, I wanted to get somewhere that I could clean the wound and bandage it up before finding someone to take me to the hospital.  That plan only last about 90 seconds before I lost my calm and the lights went out after walking 50 yards.  I didn't even make it out of the parking lot.  Someone making a delivery lifted me off the ground and dragged me inside the security guard booth where I was given a glass of water.  I quickly came to and had to answer a bombardment of questions, in German.  I explained who I was, what I was doing and what had happened, also in German.  How's that for "Aware and Oriented x 5?"  I had to repeat the entire rundown again plus answer a few more questions when the paramedics arrived to wheel me away to the "Krankenhaus."

About an hour later they were about to discharge me before I started firing off a few questions of my own.  Not able to remember when I had my last tetanus shot, I wasn't too keen on walking out of their without one. I found it interesting that no one had confirmed whether I had had a tetanus shot recently.  I remember the paramedics saying something about it and I thought they meant that they were going to give me one once I got to the hospital.  False.  Now I realize that they were asking me if I had one and I mistakenly said yes.  So much for that German course.  Anyway, I asked the nurse if she was going to give me the shot.  When I explained that I had no idea when I had my last tetanus shot she consulted the doctor who informed her that it had to be within the last 5 years.  Definitely did not have a tetanus shot in the last 5 years.  She agreed it was best to give me the shot and let me on my way, after which I called a friend to come pick me up.

I spent the rest of the weekend with my feet up, surfing the internet and playing video games.  Monday came around and as instructed I went to see my doctor.  Yes I have a doctor here in Germany.  Mr. Agha  and his staff of nurses know me by first name.  He had to re-open the wound to let it bleed out to prevent infection.  With one nurse restraining each of my legs and one nurse on standby, Mr. Agha cut into my foot and recovered two hefty pieces of rubber originating from my shoe.  Thanks to the nurses at the hospital that did such a great job cleaning it out!  Before wrapping my foot in a whole roll of gauze the doc put some plastic apparatus in there to keep the wound open for the next two days.  "Wonderful."  I go back tomorrow to have it removed so the wound can finally start to heal properly.  Needless to say I won't be climbing tomorrow.

Back to Abnormal

A while back I proclaimed my intent to sign up at the gym here in Waldkraiburg.  I finally got around to doing so last Thursday.  I've been in the gym three times now (not including when I'll go today after work) and relishing in the familiar sensation of being sore.  Since coming to Germany I've physically tested my body on a number of occasions, but it's nothing like the workload I'm used to subjecting myself to back home.  I covet the daily 5 milers and 4+ days of climbing each week that were routine.  I've yet to obtain a car and my array of friends lacks interest in physical or outdoor endeavors.  This leaves me with limited options for companionship in kicking my own ass at the closest climbing gym or shredding my tips out on the cliffs.  That being said, going to the gym (regular gym) in conjunction with running and getting outside on my bike is seemingly a good way to spend my time in between the more lofty outdoor adventures.

However, this regimen isn't likely to feed my appetite for too long.  Sooner or later something has to give.  Perhaps after a few visits to the climbing gym I'll be able to track down some other loonies like myself to venture into the wilderness with.  If that doesn't happen it won't be long before I either start going insane or start planning a solo trip.  Outdoor pursuits aside, I'm back to being injury free and my fitness level is rapidly returning.  I won't say I'm 'back to normal' since many will argue that I don't particularly qualify for normal.  I weighed myself at the gym yesterday on their scale that also tells you body fat percentage.  5.9% with a healthy BMI of 20.5?  Yeah man, certainly back to abnormal.

Instinct

Running before work has not been successful.  Running after work has been alright though.  I replaced my shoes about 2 weeks ago after taking a look at what I'd been running on.  Every time I ran made my left calf muscle hurt more and more.  I think this is why:

Just a hunch

My orthodics are long past due for replacing as well, but they're insanely expensive.  I'm looking to get away from needing to wear them if I can.  A friend told me about a store that would be hosting a race.  Any store that hosts a race must have a few employees with solid running shoe knowledge, so I opted to check it out.  My assessment was dead on.  I could tell by the shoes that they carry that somebody there knew a thing or two about running shoes.  The selection was mostly Asics and Brooks but consisted of their top models.  I already knew my foot type and strike pattern, but I let the guy check me out anyway.  After trying on few different models I was pretty much sold on one pair.  The guy helping was trying to put me in a lesser known model from Brooks, but I wasn't having it.  Having read some reviews of this shoe, I knew what they were all about and they just didn't compare to the other models I had tried on.  It was a recent release that Brooks more or less decided to drop after it didn't receive the feedback they were looking for.  They have a great selection of running shoes and this didn't really add much to their line-up so they took it off their website.  I figured this guy was trying to get these shoes out of his stock so he could bring in a different model.  It's not uncommon for shoe stores to do this.  They will never put you in a shoe that isn't right for you, but if it's pretty close to a shoe that is right for you then they're going to push that one a bit harder to get it off their shelves.  No harm done, I just didn't want that shoe.  I walked out with a pair of Brooks Adrenaline GTS 10's.  I've run in several older versions of this shoe so I was familiar with the fit and feel.

While at the store I couldn't help but sign up for the race.  Sure, I wasn't in very good shape having not run for a month or better because of that ugly hamstring injury, but this was just for fun.  Hmmm, fun.  I didn't get much training in during the following week because of work.  A bunch of Netzsch employees, and distributors, from America came to Germany for a water treatment conference.  I went to the conference on Wednesday and got invited to dinner with our guests on three days out of out of the week.  Saturday came up fast and I had only run on Monday.  Oh yeah, I'm so ready for this race.  I woke up at 7AM to get ready and decided to take a glance at the race flyer.  The race was on Sunday.  After double checking the date against my watch and my cell phone, I hopped back into bed for a few extra hours of sleep.  I made sure not to waste the day and went out for a few miles later on.

7AM came again Sunday morning and I made sure to eat and hydrate well before the race.  My friends came to pick me up an hour before the gun would go off, and asked which distance I was planning to run.  A bit confused, I justed looked at them.  I had been thinking this was a 5k and found out that the race was set up for 7k, 14k and 21k.  I should pay more attention to what I sign up for.  I settled on running the 7k but wondered why the obscure distance.  I realized the logic once I did the conversion to miles.  21k is about 13 miles or a half marathon.  We got to the start with about a half hour until the start and the friends I'd soon be running with didn't appear too concerned with warming up.  Short on time, I went to get a few laps and some drills in before the gun.  I was really just planning to treat this race like a normal training run but when I heard that gun, instinct took over.  I strode out with the leaders for a while before settling into a rhythm.  About a mile in, the first hill appeared.  It didn't look all that bad so I approached it with liberal speed and shortened my stride a bit.  When I got the to top I realized no one was opening up on the downhill.   This was my chance to let gravity take over and move up a bit.  I kept with this strategy throughout the race and managed to work my way up quite nicely.  At the 1km to go mark I started eying up the runners ahead of me.  They didn't look much like kickers which left me wide open to pass on by.  I silently closed the gap before hittin' the throttle at 200meters.  I crossed the line at 33 minutes and feeling great.  My friend who wasn't racing told me that I had finished in 8th place.  Hmm, not too shabby.  I suspect that most of the serious runners opted for the 14 and 21k races.  My time wasn't anything to brag about but the race was fun and I was happy to be running at my normal pace again.  More training and more racing await.  Next year I'm going after the 21k!

Untimely Motivation

I started the weekend off by going to the beerfest in Mühldorf this weekend, spending yet another night in my proper 'German' attire.  The climax of the night had to be when my friends got me to stand up on the table with them and taught me a very interesting dance to a popular folk song.  Friends from the table across from us thought it was hilarious and captured the act with their cameras and phones.  I'm venturing that the pictures will surface on facebook eventually.  Perhaps I'll share them here, if I don't destroy the evidence first.  Some friends wanted to go again on Saturday night.  I reluctantly went along as I did not want to be out too late the night before an early morning ride.  As it turns out, my friend and I were right in not wanting to go as the entire place was packed.  Reminder: beerfests are like carnivals with all the rides and such, and they serve lots of beer in 1 Liter mugs.  Saturday is the most popular night to go and there was not one seat left in the house.  After over an hour of endlessly walking around in an unsuccessful search of a place to sit down, eat and drink, my friend and I decided we'd had enough and went home.  I didn't bother to ask him if he went back to pick them up later as he said he would.  He was pretty heated about event, as his girlfriend was the one that insisted on going and then decided that we had to find a table rather than just heading to the bar.  So I decided not to bring it up with him again.

I was happy to get home early, in anticipation of the mountain biking ride scheduled for the following day.  Sundays are the day for the weekend warrior to embark on adventure since there isn't much else to do.  No stores or businesses are open.  So aside from house work, blahhh house work, Sundays are best for getting outside.  However, after settling into bed I got a text message from my biking partner telling me that he was in dire need of a rest day.  A bit bummed, I understood completely.  Some days you just need a break.  Instead I decided on going for a run, and not a 12k.  I backed it down to 5 miles today and kept the pace down as well.  I didn't feel all that great since I hadn't eaten anything yet, but dismissed the feeling in favor of capitalizing on the present surge of motivation.  I paid the price.  Just 2 minutes into the run I could feel that my breathing was a notch faster than usual and that my stomach felt like it was imploding.  That's more or less what it was doing; eating away at every bit of fat/energy left inside me.  It was one of those runs that you just have to battle through.  Couldn't motivation have waited until after I had eaten?  On a positive note, my hamstring didn't cause me any pain today.  I didn't even notice any tension. 'Sighs of relief.'

My plan this week is to run in the mornings before work.  I always tell myself that I'm going to start running in the morning but I've yet to really commit.  I might go once or twice before concluding that I'm still too tired for this crap at 5AM.  I get plenty of sleep as I am generally in bed by 10:30 during the week, so I can't play that card.  The issue is that my body is simply used to getting up at 7, regardless of what time I went to bed the night before.  It's routine.  So I just have to force myself into getting up at 5, hmm maybe 6, until my body adapts and accepts it as routine.  Come on motivation!!!!

On a side note, I replaced the tube to my camelbak a few months ago after it was claimed by mold.  The bladder isn't so difficult to dry out as you can generally find something to stick inside it (aside from the thing that camelbak sells) to let air in.  But how do you get air into the tube without taking the valve off?  What's your solution camelbak users?  Do you hang it upside down or something?  I'd like to find an effective remedy so I don't have to replace any more tubes in the near future.  I can sense someone telling me to read the instruction manual.  But when do guys read instruction manuals?

Time to kick the plague

That ugly bruise on my hamstring has disappeared completely.  It didn't give me any problems during my last biking trip either.  Both good signs that I'm pretty excited about.  I went out for a short run last week, thinking that an easy 5km would be alright.  It probably would have if I hadn't changed my mind.  The 5k loop that I was planning on doing is 100% flat and the scenery, while a nice wooded area, is the same throughout and I wanted something a bit more interesting.  So I decided to change course and follow a trail that parallels the roadway and eventually enters a town that a friend of mine lives in.  Having made the trip by car several times I had a feel for the distance and estimated that it would take me about an hour to run out-and-back.  This run is much more interesting.  I arrived at my turn-around-point at approximately 33 minutes.  Right on target.  I had taken the pace a bit slower than usual so I could pay more attention to how my hamstring was holding up.  It was a bit tight, along with my calf, so I took a few minutes to stretch before making my way back.  I knew from the start that there was a well known hill that I would have to climb on the way back.  This was what I came for.  Still feeling OK, I decided to keep the pace down as I had on the way out.  Better not to push it too far yet.  Nearly 10 minutes later I was facing the hill.  Long and rather steep looking.  Short strides, lean forward.  No problem.  I was up the hill in no time and not feeling beat up at all.  I made it back at 68 minutes.  After cleaning up and getting dinner I logged the run at mapmyrun.com and discovered that my 5k turned into 12k (7.82 miles) and that my pace was around 8:30/mile.  Around a minute slower than usual.  Given the mileage and my usual pace, I would have normally clocked in around 58 minutes.  How bout that 1 hour estimate?

There's still a small knot lingering in my hamstring, but it's getting smaller and should be gone within another week or so.  I'm going to chance it on a bike trip into the mountains on Sunday.  I can't wait to kick this plague of injuries.  I haven't done much climbing since I've gotten here, but I'm looking to remedy that next weekend in Frankenjura.  Depending on how my finger reacts, I may opt to get it checked out.  I'm pretty fed up with not being able to climb on it.  It's about time to figure out what's wrong with it so I can do what's needed to get back to climbing status.

In addition I'm looking to get back to running status.  I've been wanting to get into racing shape for some time and I've got enough motivation built up right now to do it.  A friend of mine suggested the Leadville Trail 100 to me and it got me psyched.  This ultramarathon is in Leadville, CO and loops around 100 miles of the Rocky Mountains and climbs nearly 3,000 ft.  Although mostly known for the 100 mile mountain bike race, they also host a number of shorter races.  I'm really psyched on training for the marathon.  Not quite as bad ass as the 100, but it still looks awesome.  I figure on running it after I'm officially back from Germany, so that gives me more than a year to train properly.  I've got good opportunity to run at altitude here since I'm fairly close to the Alps.  I plan on signing up for a few road and/or trail races to supplement my training here and get used to racing longer distances again.  At this point I'm not looking to beat any specific time since this will be my first ever marathon, and a rough one at that.  This will be solely about enjoying the run, the people and the course.  I'm looking forward to training at full strength once this hamstring injury lets up.

Alps Trip Rewind

The recap of my recent trip to the Alps is a bit tardy but it will have to do.  No, Alps does not always mean snow, but it does mean AWESOME!  Netzsch owns/rents a cabin in Zillertal, Austria that houses 12 people if you follow the rated capacity (dirtball climbers could fit way more).  We rallied up 10 people, some from Netzsch along with their respective ball and chain, for a weekend full of drinking and grilling.  While most had no plans of leaving the cabin, a few of us only figured on sleeping there.  Four of us brought our mountain bikes and set out to explore the surrounding mountains.

We hit the trails, in this case paved or gravel roads, at 8AM.  Our "veteran" leader had advised us all to eat well and not drink too much or stay up too late.  What do you know, he's the one with a wicked hangover while the rest of us are ready to tear it up.  I took point with the drunkard's girlfriend and began the climb.  Starting at about 900 meters above sea level, we climbed 1000 more up to about 2000 meters at the peak.  This was my first trip riding with clipless pedals and I absolutely loved it.  Cyclists praise them for the additional power and efficiency you gain, especially while riding uphill.  I concur.  I felt much more connected with my bike (nah, really?) and felt like I had more control.  Aside from struggling to click in when starting back up, I only had one fall because of the pedals.  That's because my dumb ass thought I was slick and clipped one foot in before trying to start up again after we had paused in the middle of hill.  Well I had some trouble getting started again and the foot I wanted to put on the ground to stabilize myself was clicked in.  So down I went.  I got back up and started off again, without clicking in until I was moving steadily.  

During water breaks we'd peer over the staggered switchbacks to see how our "leader" was doing.  Nearly to the top, his hangover began to fade and he caught up (we waited a bit).  At the top we took a break to have lunch and refill on water before tackling the downhill section.  I normally hesitate to build up too much speed on downhills for fear that a rock or root I didn't avoid in time would send me flying over the handle bars and down the mountain.  Feeling a bit more in tune with my bike that day, I decided to try ramping up the speed a bit.  Flying sounds fun anyway, so what the heck?  The only time this decision caught up with me was when two guys on ATV's came flying up the trail around a bend and I had to slam on the brakes to avoid being obliterated by one of them.  I managed to get off trail in time and stop my bike, but my body continued moving in an upward pivot around my front tire and then slammed down onto the frame once gravity took over.  I had a nice bruise from it that went away in a few days.  

After that we struggled to find this small trail that spurs off from the main one and would lead us back to the cabin.  We never found that trail and ended up going down a bit further than planned.  This meant riding back up 300 meters of steep elevation to get back to the cabin.  The way back was marked with trail signs and the group gave me the green light.  ;-}  After the long downhill section I was feeling well recovered and ready for some climbing.  What seemed like endless switchbacks finally lead me to the cabin.  When greeted by the cabin crew and asked where the others were, my only reply was "hinter" meaning "behind."  When the next member of our group came in, the cabin crew suggested that I was been back for a half hour already.  Since they were mostly drunk and I was the one wearing the watch, I say it was only 10 minutes.  I managed to snap some pictures during the ride a few pics of the outside of our cabin.  Have a look here.