The Final Verdict

So let's see....I did a dumb aerobic trick over some stadium chairs to miss getting a t-shirt for Ryan at a hockey game.  I didn't go to the doctor immediately to find out I broke a rib.  I did a dumb thing by lifting heavy objects into our attic a week after the "accident" thinking I was healed, only to find out that lifting really hurt....which landed me at said doctor.  1 - 2 weeks of no "impact" activities?  Bogus.  After nearly 6 weeks of no running between January 22 and late February, I was finally able put one foot in front of the other without any pain.  Thank goodness!  Unfortunately, I lost most of my fitness during that time and have had to start running from scratch again (more on that to come in next post or two).

But in the meantime, I had to share with everyone who asked "the story" of how I broke the rib.  It kinda became a running joke around the house that it "WAS ALL RYAN'S FAULT!"  (hey - why accept the blame when I could toss it on an unknowing 7-year old!  He was the one who made me hold all the crap in my lap during the game.  I have AWESOME hands - see The X Factor post - I would've had the shirt if it wasn't for him!).  Yeah - I'm a bad parent....so sue me.....

The first few times I used that excuse with others, Ryan kinda gave me a certain look.  But it took a toll on the little urchin.  Eventually, it was said once to often and he shouted "IT WASN"T MY FAULT".  Well as Steve Martin was fond of saying...."well exxxxcccuuuuuuuussssssssseeee mmmmeeeeeeeeee".  Guess he had feelings I wasn't considering.  Geez...can't a guy make a joke about his broken rib and toss his kid under the bus?  Isn't that why we have kids????

So, too make this 3-part long story short....I started training for the Transrockies Challenge a few weeks ago in earnest.  I sure hope nobody tries to throw a towel my way while I'm running on the treadmill.  That could lead to a real long story about falling through a plate glass window....

Somehow I think I could find a way to blame the little man....

KEIYH

The Rest Of The Story...Almost!

When you last left your superhero (reminder – that’s me – I’m sure that can be easy to forget) – he was writhing in pain in the seat of the coliseum, after slamming his exposed side on a chair while lunging for a t-shirt...

Ryan meanwhile has no idea what happened. I vaguely remember that I didn’t spill the drink, drop the jacket, or crush any popcorn. Not bad, huh? That’s talent. Ryan may have even continued reaching over for more food and drink – completely oblivious (Gosh, I hope I never have a heart attack and need him to call for help. He just might mistake me for a comfy pillow!)

Anyway, I am busy trying to make sure Humpty Dumpty can be put together again when my phone rings. Brenda (the wife). We had been doing an exchange of calls on another matter during the night, and my first words out of my mouth are “I think I broke my rib!” I got a bit more sympathy here. In fact, I said we are going to leave the hockey game and come home now (of course, it was done in halting speech, on account of I couldn’t breathe).

But before I could really finish the thought, Ryan, who was watching the remote-controlled inflatable blimp fly through the stadium, starts yelling that more prizes are coming our way (I said they really entertain the fans). You see, this blimp drops coupons for something like free Subway sandwiches, and one little paper was fluttering our way. Right to me. ME. The guy with hands full (to recap: popcorn, drink, jacket, and now phone), barely able to breathe. I yell to Brenda to hold on, and I try to reach up and grab this paper, like it was a foul ball at a baseball game. This was MY MOMENT. Redemption would be had! Yes….Noooooooo! The paper slipped from my grasp. %&$%#!!!! Pain erupted again from my side. I was done. Toast.

Yes, Ryan was next to me and didn’t catch this prize either either – I do believe his hands may have been slippery from the buttery popcorn. In fact, both prizes were scooped up by Jack, another 7-year old from our Leaning Teepees tribe. Talk about adding insult to injury.

Well, we made it home that night, and the next morning, I woke up early for my trail race. As I stepped out of bed I quickly realized the run wasn’t going to happen. I couldn’t take one step without pain shooting through my chest. But as a consolation prize I did get a race t-shirt which I picked up with my race packet the night before. Oh yes, one of us got a shirt! A week went by and the pain ebbed-and-flowed, and finally it was too much to take, so I went to urgent care (being a man, I was hoping just for bruised ribs). As you know, the nurses first, then the doctors, inquire as to how the injury occurred. So, I recalled the whole gun-shooting incident (doesn’t that sound more intense?!), and how I walked away empty handed. (note: perhaps I should have said it was a bar fight, and that they should see the other three guys!). I guess I must have told them a humorous story, because when the x-ray technician came to get me, he said something close to “so you’re the guy who didn’t get the t-shirt?”. Ouch.  Everyone is a comic...

Long story short, X-ray proved conclusive – a broken rib. Am I a prophet or what??!!! (yes, more likely “or what”)

If you’ve been unfortunate enough to be in this situation, you know that there is no remedy for this injury other than rest. So, I was wrapped in a large, human ACE bandage and told to not do any impact workouts for 1 – 2 weeks. Not as bad as I thought! “Doc, how will I know when I can run again?”, Well, idiot who didn’t get the shirt for his son – your body will tell you. Yea – good answer.

And that, my friends, is why I haven’t written about my training…makes one helluva a story though (and once again – I didn’t make any of this up). Oh yeah – there is still more.

To be continued, one more time…

KEIYH

Why I Hate Chubby Checkers

WHAT??!!  I am sure the hundreds of you following along have been asking the same question lately – “When are we going to hear about how training is going?” Sure, I’ve introduced you to the key players in this journey over the last two months, as well as brought you up-to-speed on how Lynn and I got started on this little Transrockies adventure of ours. But…I’ve intentionally left off the training piece.  So what does this have to do with Chubby Checkers?

Well, a funny thing happened on the way to the forum, err…I mean…mountain. Some of you know this already. For the rest, strap in...

• Date: Friday, January 22, 2010

• Time: Approximately 8:30 pm

• Location: Time Warner Cable Arena, Charlotte, NC

• Event: Charlotte Checkers Hockey Game with my son Ryan, and our YGuides tribe

At these minor league hockey games, where audiences are thin, half of the entertainment involved is getting the crowd excited during down times. Show faces on the jumbotron, free pizza giveaways, on-ice contests and using an air gun to shoot prizes into the crowd. Now, I’ve won my share of prizes over the years, but the one prize I want has always eluded me – catching a ball at a major league baseball game! (Yes, I know, I am at a hockey game – I am not stupid. Not yet at least – it’s coming). So getting something for me at this event wasn’t high on my list, but when you are there with your 7-year old son, and he wants something…that is another story.

So you have to picture I am sitting in my seat, holding onto Ryan’s jacket (cause he won’t – it would be in a ball soaked in beer on the floor), as well as holding the “bottomless popcorn box” (that’s how it was billed) and drink (I am a slave to this little guy – but he wanted to eat and drink). I was minding my own business, thinking ahead to the next morning, and the 8-mile trail race I was going to do at the National Whitewater Center. It was to be a wonderful early trail training run. WAS.

The ice was being cleaned with a Zamboni during a period break, when out comes the mascot, Chubby Checker – I don’t make this stuff up (contrary to what many of my faithful followers might think) – and he is shooting t-shirts into the crowd from the previously mentioned air gun. Suddenly one is heading our way…and by our…I mean right over Ryan’s head into the row behind us. “Catch it Ryan” I think I yelled (ok…in hindsight 2 months later, I am making that up – makes this sound like he should have caught it). I reach out with my left hand, but can’t grab it as it lands on the ground in the row behind us. “Alligator Arms” Ryan can’t reach over the seat to get it, so super-dad (yes me) tries a Shawn White half-pipe lunging, twisting, stretching 1280 McTwisty to try to grab it as well (while holding onto the jacket, popcorn and drink mind you). Judges would have given me a perfect score for in-air movement. Unfortunately, the landing would have knocked me off the podium. Let’s just say, we didn’t get stinkin’ t-shirt. No siree. I now know why Ryan has alligator arms. He inherited them. I probably missed grabbing the shirt by about 2 inches, but in the process managed to SLAM my exposed side, under my outstretched arms, onto the edge of the seat. And the first words out of my mouth to my fellow YGuides members were “I think I broke my rib.” Uh-huh. Yep.

Fell back into my seat in great pain. Ya’ll with me here? Oh, it gets better.

And for that….I will leave this as “TO BE CONTINUED”…..

KEIYH

Remembering Emmah's Day of Birth

Please take a moment today to say a special prayer for Emmah and those in her family.  It may not be an easy day, but hopefully with each passing moment, the painful thoughts dull a bit, and the special moments of her 13+ years are a bit more vivid.

You are missed Emmah.

KEIYH

New Fundraising Goal!!!

I'm sure you would like to know what it is. But you know what, we really don't have a fundraising goal for this run.  You see, each dollar raised is an incredible victory - for the Gudeman family medical bills for Emmah's Care, and for Neuroblastoma Cancer research.  Quite simply, Lynn and I could have gone off and done this run in Colorado with little fan-fare and just personal satisfaction in mind.  But that is not representative of the type of people we are. 

By the time August rolls around, everyone who has been and will be exposed to 113 For Emmah, will learn a little more about people they may have never met, will get a few more laughs doing so, and will have a bigger smile knowing that they contributed to something larger...and made a difference in the lives of others.

Doesn't that make you feel good?!

And if you haven't donated yet - please consider doing so by using the links on the right side of this blog. Our goal seems to be getting bigger each and every day thanks to the kind people we've come in contact with.

KEIYH

The Weakest Link: Ken Bansemer (Runner #2)

Yep, the title says it all. That's me. The brains behind this "113 For Emmah" operation. You may wonder if I have all my faculties about me in making such a public commitment to run 113 miles in thin air (and probably all uphill - those are BIG MOUNTAINS). But the backstory would help you understand the WHY....(cue flashback sound effect)....


I should have never gotten off the couch in the late summer of 2000. I was content as a couch potato. A real champ. Many years running.  I was watching the World Ironman Triathlon Championships on TV and saw Dick Hoyt do incredible human feats with his disabled son during that race. So I said (out-loud to my wife, Brenda), if he could do that for his son, I could run a marathon...which was one of a few items my "bucket list". Uh-oh. Pushed it a bit too far this time. Problem was, I spoke quite often over the previous 6 years I had known Brenda about how I was going to run a marathon someday. MY SOMEDAY HAD ARRIVED!! I was given THE ULTIMATUM nobody wants to receive...and I quote..."Ken, either sh*t or get off the pot. I'm tired of hearing about you are going to run a marathon". Yep...major UH-OH. I had been called out...like the boy in A Christmas Story, I had been triple-dog-dared. No backing down now. Goodbye couch, hello training. And ...I ran my first marathon 4 months later in Tampa. Exhilerating. Exhausting. Time consuming. Exhilerating, exhilerating, exhilerating....

(cue flash-forward sound effect...Back to real-time)...

I know what you are thinking..."Ken, stick to the 5k or 10k races". Sure, seems simple. But it isn't. No glory in going short. I used to do those - get too winded..and over quick. Half-marathon (13.1 miles)?  Did a bunch of those.  Became old hat. Even bigger than a marathon was necessary. So in 2008, I did 40 miles over 2-days. Why? Because it was a challenge (and Disney World was giving away 3 medals if you did a 1/2 and full marathon over the 2-days. The bling is the thing!). But deep down, while I dislike the training...I love the challenge, and knew what was ahead for me. GO BIG. REAL BIG.

Ultra-distance big.  And I have a habit of making statements in public about what I my personal goals are - talk about making a commitment! So rather than go about this effort quietly.  I am shouting it from the rooftops.  Wrote letter to a few hundred people, started this blog, have had buttons ,dragged in a friend, etc, etc, etc.  And decided that the Gudeman's and Neuroblastoma Cancer Research could benefit.  This is big!

Yes, the body can achieve what the mind believes.  And I believe the next 6 months are going to be so much fun!

So back to the weakest link. I know, that you know, that I know I can do this. However, I am no Lynn Pettus when it comes to running. Maybe in 2008 I was, but lets get one thing straight...something that she was too humble to admit a few weeks ago. Lynn is running the Boston Marathon next month. Oh yes, she qualified last year, while I was simply dragging my lazy ass from couch-to-couch thinking BIG.  Lynn=fast.  Ken=slow.

And in this Transrockies team event, where our two-person team must stay within 2 minutes of each other at all times (better be quick on those potty breaks), Team 113 For Emmah is only as good as the weakest link.

As Anne Robinson would say...."Ken Bansemer. You may have the brains, you may have the looks (ok, I added that), but you are...the weakest link...goodbye."

KEIYH

The X-Factor: A retort... of sorts

Well Ken, you got one thing right… I did work for Panduit and I did in fact know your father-in-law but I think only (at that time) by name… we worked in different divisions. I guess technically that’s two things you got right.

With age comes wisdom, or in Ken’s case dementia. Ken’s recollection of his legendary play is perhaps skewed only by his legendary mind and self imposed status as a premier centerfielder. It must’ve been hard to play with that cape getting in the way and all. I guess this makes his play all that more spectacular. How did you do it Ken? And I now realize why all the diving on even the most routine plays… it was the only way to showcase that cape.

Boy, to listen to Ken talk, you’d think that I was one of the 3 or 4 females per team that were required to be fielded in that league.

I didn’t know Ken when his career was blossoming… only after he was already a legend. A legend in a merchant recreational league... a legend in a coed merchant recreational league. It was only after playing alongside him for many an inning and many a season that I finally came to understand why they tossed him out in centerfield. Outside of his ceaseless asking “how do I look”… Ken only knew how to throw ONE way… long. From my perspective (lacking in color only) they were lovely rainbow throws… soft gentle arcing throws. You know Ken; it doesn’t take any real arm strength to launch rainbow throws… I mean even a gi…

Ken’s predisposition to throw long kept him in the outfield… it cut down on overthrows... not the cutoff man or the backstop for that matter (can you say parking lot souvenirs) they were overshot with regularity... but to first base. The regulars quickly learned where NOT to park their cars. While my throws were on the short(er) side, they at least gave the chance to make a play and not look like a wounded comet leaving the ballpark. It also kept the runner on his/her toes for fear of getting nailed by one of my throws.

I can’t recall you ever having to run 200 ft to make a catch, at least not when I was a wingman (I’m not sure exactly what svelte in a Jeff Gudeman sort of way means) I seem to recall being pretty dang quick myself back in the day. I’m also quite certain that I uhh… don’t want to be referred to as your yang. Something about that sounds all wrong.

Truth be known, I didn’t want to make Ken look too bad (he managed on his own) and it was because of me that he was all that he could be… I let him look good. I will agree that we had played on some good teams (and some not so good teams…) either way, it was always fun. I also agree with Ken in that we would often prod, rib, cajole and blatantly poke fun at one another about our playing abilities or lack thereof. As Ken also said… Thank goodness for each of us that no video footage exists of our spectacular throws....at least none that we know of! Of course there’s no footage Ken… neither of us ever made a spectacular throw.

Ken and I do go back a ways. I look at that picture and long for those days… when I mostly worried about making sure my “uniform” and bat bag was ready for the next game. I miss playing ball… and to set the record straight… Ken and I were really pretty good outfielders and pretty good ballplayers overall. Any number of teams would have made us (me) a welcome addition to their team.

KEIYH

Jeff Gudeman: The X Factor

You've been introduced to Julie and Lynn in the last few weeks.  Now it is time to meet Jeff (Emmah's dad).

Like it was with Julie, I really don't remember when I exactly met Jeff.  Strangely enough, he worked at Panduit with my father-in-law for a number of years, but I didn't know that until I started dating Brenda a few years later. I think Jeff and I met when we started playing 12" softball together through other mutual Panduit connections, as part of a department store recreational league (we were known as the Orland Park, IL Sears team.  Can I sell you a camera or computer?).  About that softball....

I played centerfield.  It was my playground.  Lots of space to roam. Back then around 1990, I was quick and had a knack for making routine plays look spectacular (at least that is what Jeff would say...and maybe 8 other teammates....don't believe them.  The dives were necessary). There wasn't a ball hit to the outfield I didn't think I had a chance of getting.  I had already been playing for a number of years by the time Jeff came along and began to play left field on our team.  In our league, each team was required to play 3 or 4 females in each game, and we had some quite talented female players at that time.  Our right fielder happened to be one of those women.  I'll let you figure out what that means about Jeff playing left field.  I'm just saying.  I could be roaming around out there backing up either of my wingmen (or wing-women) should the ladies need help (I mean lady and man.  Geez - it just slips out....).

Anyway, our team was pretty good...and we would often prod, rib, cajole and blatently poke fun at one another about our playing abilities.  It is just one of life's rituals and that is what good friends do to each other. Great memories, share laughs. In all fairness, while I was good, I had a deficiency.  I was known as X + 5.  On long throws from the outfield to the plate, or third base, I had a tendancy to overthrow my fellow teammates - by about 5 feet.  Ok, sometimes more - there may have been a memorable throw or two (or 5, I lose count - I had a long career) over a backstop.  Hence, X + 5.  Gotta tell you though - some of those throws were real beauts!!!  Kept the spectators alert!  If you have a cannon for an arm, why not use it!

But my wingman, my left fielder, my best man, was not without his moments.  Jeff was once svelt (in a Jeff Gudeman sort of way), and had a similar gift of gab (like Julie).  So while I was taking a verbal beating due to my throws from center, Jeff would take his share too (often because I had to run 200 feet to catch balls he could've loped 20 feet for).  However, every ying as a yang.  Jeff was my yang.  He was X - 5!  His tendancy was to underthrow the balls by 5 feet (or more...could have been 25 from my viewpoint) to teammates. Bounce them into the dirt.  Threw it like a gi....

Hmmm - I think you get the picture.  The X factor.  When all is said and done....we evened each other out...which is what made us good friends...and let us have many good laughs as a result.  Note: The above photo was of Jeff and me at the Golden Glove presentation For Outstanding Fielding in a Recreational Softball League.  Look at how strong those right arms are!!!  Oh wait, maybe that photo was at Jeff and Julie's wedding.  Sometimes the memory create moments that we want others to believe.   You be the judge.

Thank goodness for each of us that no video footage exists of our spectacular throws....at least none that we know of!

KEIYH