Ultimate Adventure

At some point during the ’85 – ’86 school year, my four friends at the time and I decided to form a group. The group needed a name: we were all Marvel Comics fans, we all played Dungeons and Dragons, at least occasionally. These influences led directly to our choice: Ultimate Adventurers. Over the next couple of years, one of those friends moved away, and another member was allowed in. There have been ups and downs, arguments and reconciliations... right now, and for the last several years, our relationships are stronger than ever.

I’ve found that the group name we chose, “Ultimate Adventurers” has been a guiding light in my life. Stop laughing!

The word ‘adventure’ has been particularly powerful, especially as the definition has evolved for me. At its basis, to seek adventure is to accept a paradigm. There will be suffering, and the suffering is part of the point. Curiosity is a primary motivator, and novelty is valued by an adventurer.

Beyond that, the types of adventure are as varied as the human experience is broad; it isn’t necessarily about mountain climbing and jungle exploration, though those clearly are examples of adventures. Some find adventure in what they eat, the adventure of having and raising a child should not be overlooked: I have friends who are parents, and the simultaneous wonder and pain of raising a family is remarkable.

Developing relationships is another common adventure: to open up to a person almost always comes with some suffering, even if it’s self inflicted. In exchange you can develop a bond that grows over decades, you can understand life from new angles and perspectives.

I’m lucky to have stumbled on this perspective on adventure, and had it echoing in the back of my mind since that somewhat fateful school recess in the seventh grade.

There Can’t Be Too Many of These Left

I can only remember a couple other times when I can say, “I’m in the shape of my life.”

The first was in the fall of 1991, right after basic training (though I was also in quite good shape after running Bloomsday in 1 hour 23 minutes earlier that year). I’d put on thirty pounds of muscle and was a monster. Ironically, I couldn’t do all that many push-ups or sit-ups, which are the units by which I was measured at the time.

There were a few other peaks during that three year period; after I lost some of that basic training weight, the running, push-ups and sit-ups came easier. It was an active time of life when I bicycled a lot, ran a lot, and did my share of other exercise.

The next very notable period when I was ‘in the shape of my life’ was during my year with Oom Yung Doe. My flexibility, balance and overall strength was more impressive; this all peaked around March of 2001. Then I realized how unethical the operation was, learned that it was led and founded by a criminal.

Somewhere in there was the first ‘Run Up Colville Mountain.’ That may have been in 1999, or even earlier. I trained specifically for hill running during that go-around. Hmm, I remember my adversary’s (now ex) wife was pregnant with his first child at the time, so that must have been... eight years ago?

I was also in pretty good running condition during the first summer living in South Seattle. I had a new neighborhood to explore, and not a whole lot else in the way of hobbies. That was 2005. I was also in training for our third race up The Mountain (which I won), and I ran the 5-mile course during the Portland Marathon (in which I received an age group award).

This year, however, I’ve eclipsed all of my life’s running related conditioning. I’ve run over 8 ½ miles for the first time in my life. And over 10, and 12 and 14... In a little over a week, I plan to run 20 miles for the first time in my life. Of course, this should culminate in 26.2 on November 30th.

Looking back, the end of basic training, the end of my Oom Yung Doe year, and now, as I wind toward the latter phase of my marathon training, are all notable as different, yet equal ‘shape of my life’ periods. Only then have I exercised an hour or more per day, most days.

Now I need to convince my wife to take some naked pictures of me in order to commemorate this phase (no, they won’t be posted here). There can’t be too many of these periods left in my life: it takes a lot of time and energy to be this awesome!

Big Fucking Rat

I just saw a big fucking rat outside the window.

I went out with my entrenching tool (basically a little shovel), but it had hidden, I think behind one of my wife's planter boxes.

Yes, I'm pretty sure it's illegal to use firearms within city limits. I could shoot the hell outta that little bastard. There would be massive disapproval. My wife would probably disapprove, the neighbors probably... then there's always the police. I will restrain myself.

Greycat came out with me, but seemed unaware of the larger project. He's still out there sniffing around. Maybe he'll get lucky and the rat will be stupid. He brought a dead rat home once, back when he was still living on the porch. Today would be a good day for an encore. That first rat only covered about a tenth of the medical bills we've invested into him. If he catches this one, we'll call it even.

I'm not holding my breath. Most likely we'll contact the rest of the association and call in a professional.

Riding Metro

Nora and I were on the 48 this evening, coming home after spending the better part of the afternoon watching David Lynch's Inland Empire. We stopped at Mcclelan st and Rainier when the driver announced that we had to pause for a minute. With both doors open, we sat. And sat. We were only two stops from our own, and very much in walking distance, but I kept thinking we'd start any moment. We were probably there for five full minutes, which is a long time to stop a bus for no apparent reason.

Then, the number 7 passed us, and stopped. A police car parked in the turn lane in ahead and to our left (naturally).

A young black man in the back began making somewhat crazy sounds, "oh mamma, oh mamma...." and no fewer than three police officers boarded our bus. And they took the young black man into custody. He didn't resist, and they didn't use excessive force. They seemed to know him by name. They mentioned that he'd dropped 'dice' during the minor scuffle; Nora and I assumed that was a rock form of drug. Crack or Meth, or possibly heroin.

A few moments later, we continued on our way. As we thanked the driver, she mentioned how happy she was that her evening was almost over. I thought it was a fascinating adventure, but it's probably the sort of thing a driver can do without.