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Week 28: Mardi Gras and Reentering the Arena

Today is Fat Tuesday.

Laissez les bon temps rouler!

Philosophical Dad Stuff

When I was younger, I loved going to Mardi Gras parades. Luckily, I grew up around Mobile, Alabama; home of the oldest Mardi Gras celebrations in the United States.

It’s not the same energy as New Orleans, and much more family-friendly.

My father also loved Mardi Gras, whether he really talked about it or not. We’d drive downtown to his office and park in the underground garage, which I thought was super cool. He was an FBI agent, so having an armed guard in your parking lot was just something I thought was normal.

It’s funny how we see uncommon things as children and just think it’s totally a regular thing.

After parking, we’d walk a few blocks to a hot dog restaurant a friend owned called the Royal Dog House aptly named since it sat on the corner of Royal and St. Michael streets in downtown Mobile.

The smell of any hot dog place immediately transports me back to this small place with fake-wood panels and an inventive menu I still dream about.

Once sated with the dogs, we’d walk down to our spot to catch the parade. I’d make him stay to the very end of the parade. Sometimes we’d hit the dog house again after the parade if I was still hungry.

My father NEVER ONCE complained about any of this.

Looking back I realize why.

It was OUR time. Together. Laughing and having fun just the two of us; doing something we both loved.

I hadn’t really thought about this in some time until I saw all the pictures of kids doing Mardi Gras on social media. Of course, once the floodgates were open, it was hard not to book a trip for next year’s festivities immediately.

I missed Dad today.

Couch to Ultramarathon…and Beyond

This weekend is round 2. Another 50k crucible in the woods.

This time around however, it won’t be so dangerously cold. The weather prognosticators say it’s going to be mild and sunny, a welcome change from last time when the extreme cold caused me to continually make poor decisions that made the race longer and harder than it need be.

Time to put those painful experiences into practice.

During the last one, dark thoughts started going through my head once it started getting late in the day.

I thought I would make a special note of going beyond marathon distance, which was previously the furthest I’d ever run. The milestone came and went without fanfare, I didn’t care.

Because at that point I still had almost two hours of running; which dampened my excitement considerably.

I started thinking how maybe this wasn’t the goal for me. Maybe I wasn’t cut out for this. Maybe I wasn’t tough enough.

Maybe it was all just talk and I was caught up in the moment and seduced by pretty pictures.

And 28 miles in, the thought occurred to me that if I can’t finish this race in the woods of Ohio, I’ll never make it to the French Alps.

For a brief moment, I didn’t care.

Then my “why” came flooding back to me. Images of my wife, my children, of friends and family making lifelong memories in beautiful places that only seeing this adventure through could take me to.

In that instant, I resolved to get better. To get stronger. Faster. Fitter. To do what it takes to tackle mountains. To become that better version of myself that can do such things.

I steeled myself and finished the race, ready to get my due congratulations on having defeated the beast within. Lolz.

Instead the poor, frozen volunteers were packing up and heading home.

I crossed the finish line alone. In silence. There was no fanfare. No cheering. Not even music.

A lady then handed me my finisher medal and said “Congrats! Do you want some soup?”

As cold and depleted as I was, I could only say, “No thank you. I just want to go home.”

I picked up my bag and limped back to the now-empty parking lot.

With time to reflect over the last month, I’m more confident than ever that the answers are out there, just waiting to be discovered.

Time to do it all over again.

“Coming home from very lonely places, all of us go a little mad; whether from great personal success, or just an all-night drive, we are the sole survivors of a world no one else has ever seen.” - John le Carre

Live triumphantly. See you next week.