Sometimes I'm Amazed That I Can Even Dress Myself

Since I haven't used this particular storytelling device in a while, we are going to revisit The Big Book of Stuipd Things Ryan Does.

Today's reading comes from chapter 972 (It really is a BIG book.), entitled "Insomnia, or How to Put Yourself in Physical Legal and Moral Jeopardy."

I agreed to go to Mt. Baldy on Saturday to get in one last day for the season. All I had to do was get myself to Dieu's at 6:30AM, load the truck and head for snow. Sounds simple, right? Well, I had dinner plans Friday, and we were well behaved. Then I had to run down to South Park and meet some people at Hamilton's. And you CAN'T go to Hamilton's without trying at least one of the beers. Look it up, it's a law. And once you have your beer, it would just be rude to say hi to your friends, pick up what you came to get and leave, right? Exactly.

So I get home at about 1:00 AM. Five and a half hours to go. My phone rings. I answer. At 1:30 AM, I lose signal and the call ends. Five hours to go. The phone beeps. I have a text message. I answer. An exchange ensues. It is now 2:30 AM. Four hours to go. I have stuff on my mind and can't get to sleep so I lie there in bed and watch the ceiling fan until 3:00 AM. Three and a half hours to go. at 3:50 I sit bolt upright in bed, waking up shaking and sweating from one of the most vivid nightmares I've ever had. I don't get back to sleep. At 5:50 AM I shut off the alarm before it goes off and grab a shower.

To read about the nightmare itself, go to the Creative Blog.

Total sleep: 50 minutes.

Between my house in Kearny Mesa and Dieu's in PB, I knock down 40 ounces of soda and two pop tarts. At our breakfast stop, I drink yet more soda. I am now on something less than an even keel.

I drive like a demon to Mt. Baldy and we beat the other car by almost an hour. Finally, they arrive and we can all suit up, cash in our $5 ticket vouchers and hit the slopes.

On my first run, I manage to bury my nose in a slush pile and flip multiple cartwheels down about 50 yards of wide open groomer. I take a second and laugh it off, after making sure that all the parts move properly, and bomb down the rest of the run. My riding never really recovers. I'm jittery and gun-shy the rest of the day, and manage a couple more hard falls that I'm lucky didn't hurt much more than my pride.

We had agreed to meet at the cars at 3:00 to head down and find food on the way back home. By 2:00 my foot hurt so bad and my control was so shot I had to stop. I made my way back to the lodge where I grabbed a Gatorade, a soda and some cookies to get my energy levels back up.

We get back to the cars and head out, stopping for lunch/dinner in lovely Rancho Cucamonga before making our way back to I-15. At this point, everyone in the car is asleep except for me and Dieu. He's in the back seat, playing with my digital camera. I am trying to stay awake while driving by calculating just how long I've managed to be awake, assuming that the 50 minutes of sleep don't count.

This is when my phone beeps. I've got a text message. Now, I know just how stupid this sounds, but I answer the message. An exchange begins. I'm driving down the freeway with a bum foot, exhausted by 36 hours awake (interrupted by 50 minutes, of course) with a carload of sleeping friends who have entrusted me with their safety. And I'm texting. This is because I am a good friend. Hear me out.

I drive a Ford. It has the sync system, so the phone is connected to the car stereo via bluetooth. If I take a call, it goes onto speaker phone. This would wake up all my tired passengers and make them cranky. No, far better to let them sleep and risk their lives without their knowing, not to mention the ticket I'm up for by now. So I'm texting and driving, like a champion, I might add. Thank you for keeping me awake in 160 character chunks my friend on the other end of the phone.

I get home at about 7:30 and shower, planning to have a beer and fall blissfully asleep watching a DVD. Fantastic plan, right?

My phone rings.

I'm back in the car, driving off to watch movies somewhere else, drinking yet more soda to stay awake. As these things go, I manage to be up and in hang out mode (with a few interruptions for unconsciousness and station identification) until 5AM. Well, 4 AM, but daylight savings started so take your 4 AM and stick it. It was 5AM. At that point, I pass out.

So the upshot of all this: I am an idiot. Yes, I can still go for two and a half days on no sleep. Woohoo! It's like college all over again, but without the Jack Daniel's and Jack in the Box. And Mark, thank you for not taunting me into working out this morning. I think I would have died. Those aero bars would have made too tempting a spot for a nap.

Another Lesson Learned

So last Friday morning the physical therapist watched me jog around his parking lot, and he figured out that I stomp my right leg down and push it off as hard as I can while my left leg runs. Even after he clears me, I have to relearn how to run or I'll end up back on the table. That was 9AM.

At 10AM I find out that a device I installed a month ago has failed in the field, at about the worst possible time for relations with that client. Then I find out that our mail server went down Thursday night and no one noticed. I'm standing there, trying to figure out which fire to put out first, and still bummed about the PT results, when one of the guys walks in with another problem, and that's when this happened:


Yup, I threw a straight right into the anodized aluminum side of our server rack. Let me tell you something that I already knew. Metal is stronger than flesh and bone. I got off light with the skinned knuckles. I've cracked bones doing that in the past. I know just how stupid it is, believe me.

Which brings me to Dieu's annual birthday trip to Big Bear, which began Friday night. I considered bailing, since I was in no mental shape to be social. As it turns out, it's a good thing I didn't. Without going into detail about the weekend (if you're a facebook friend you can piece it together), I spent a day and a half teaching and coaching, which I actually like to do, though I forget how much harder it is than riding like myself. Seriously, if I'm teaching you or just hanging out on the green runs while you practice, it's because I want to. I know full well that I can take off, so don't apologize for holding me back.

Come Sunday I've got a choice: watch the Chargers game in the bar, or go back up the mountain alone and hammer the slopes. I guess I should digress a little here and mention that snowboarding is what I do when I really need to reset my head. It's time I use to take all the damaged and broken and off kilter bits and pieces of my life and put them back in order. This happens without me actually doing anything. The harder I go, the clearer it gets. I ditched everyone in the bar.

I charge a couple of runs and decide to drop onto Olympic, which is the only double diamond run. I stick my first couple of turns and then I hit the ice. BAM! Flat on my face, supermanning down the hill. This has happened before. I kick around a bit and get my board below me, dig in and stop, then lay there laughing my ass off for a couple of minutes before I get up and take this picture:


I took it to prove that yes, I do fall too. So I get up, stick a couple of turns and fall flat on my ass again. In the lift line, the lifty says "Making friends with the snow?" which I find inordinately funny.

I'm riding the chairlift up, pretty much alone, listening to the classic rock they're playing on the PA and right up in front of me, a hawk shoots out of the trees, spraying snow all around it in this cool falling cloud. I watch it flap and gain altitude and then it starts gliding in circles, ever bigger circles, in and out of the patches of sunlight coming through the clouds. Finally, I lose it over the ridge and settle back into my seat. Somehow, there's no more clutter in my head. All the shit, the noise and aggravation and apprehension, everything that scares me and makes me nervous, all of it was gone. Right there, somehow, everything was okay.

I rode through the rest of the game, thanks to a text from my brother letting me know how badly it was going, and met up with everyone after to drive home. So now I'm back in the world, and my calm has already been tested several ways from Sunday, but I still can't shake the feeling that there is in fact a way through it all, that all I have to do is find it. I'm hoping I can hang tough enough to prove myself right.

Lessons Learned

Tonight, a reading from "The Book of Stupid Things Ryan Has Done," 2008 edition. Chapter 37, "Swimming on Screwed Up Ribs."

Don't do it. It's a bad idea. I woke up this morning with a little twinge in my side where I took a snowboard binding under my lower left rib. I had full range of motion, no visible bruising. Two Aleve and a Power Bar, on with the day.

So tonight I figure I can go to swim. I knocked out a little over 2000 yards. Sounds like a lot, but there was a lot more to go. Thing is, I lost all power on my left side and now deep breaths hurt.

So basically, I'm an idiot. Oh, well, at least Tahoe was epic this last weekend. Three feet of fresh powder and my first ever successful deep-pow tree runs. Thank you triathlon for making my legs strong.

I may have more to say later, but I won't get many workouts in this week. I have to go out of town again, but for work. More reasons not to train. I'll have to find ways to get something in. I hear there's good running in San Francisco.