My Half

The timing of the Bluegrass Half Marathon was not ideal, I would've rather had 60 days clear of winter to train as opposed to 30 but if it's easy then it isn't worth doing right? This event represented significant progress on my way to achieving my ultimate goal. I wrote about being revived last April and I sit today, (legs sore) experiencing that same feeling.

I arrived at Keeneland anxious but ready. I had completed runs averaging seven miles the previous four Sundays at a rate of about eight minutes 33 seconds. Not knowing the course my goal was to sustain that pace and finish under 110 minutes. The crowd was large and the energy emitted into the cool early morning air was unmistakable.

This is only the third race I've competed in and first over 5K. I know I have a lot to learn, one thing that I tried to remind myself of was to; run my race, keep my tempo, and try not to get too excited too quickly. I failed on two of those. While I didn't get too excited, I quickly became preoccupied with getting around some of the less serious runners and unnecessarily expended energy. As a result, my tempo was erratic for the first couple of miles. There is no substitute for experience and I won't make that mistake again.

It was mile four that I realized, I should have eaten more than a handful of strawberries and another of blueberries. I don't typically eat a lot before runs but I also don't typically run half marathons. I made a critical error. I noticed other runners slurping down gel packets and chalked the feeling of the bottom of my stomach down in the "remember this next time" column.

I would not be one hundred percent truthful if I didn't share that for a moment, I let an unsettling feeling of panic creep into my mind at around mile six. The hills were relentless, I found myself hoping I would see a stretch of moderately flat terrain but that stretch turned out to be wishful.

I began to hear Coach Breeden screaming at my 14 year old self, "get your ass up this hill". When I reminisce about Freshman basketball conditioning, I associate two words with it: EPIC and FAIL, because that is what I did. I've never felt more miserable about not finishing something mostly because **that is about the last time I didn't. Everything happens for a reason, as silly as it sounds, to have placed that much significance on cone drills on a stupid hill in Ashland KY, that feeling of failure has fueled me for more than sixteen years.

ALERT! There's about to be a Hunger Games reference. I had a lot of time to think on this 13.1 mile run. Having recently finished the first two books in the Hunger Games Trilogy, my dorky self couldn't help but associate the marathon with the "games". Every time I needed a little help there would be a crowd of supporters handing off parachutes of water. I suspected it, when Points of Authority by Linkin Park blasted through my earbuds at a difficult time on mile eight but KNEW it on mile nine when Lennon's Beautiful Boy played that Haymitch was my DJ.

I started running again for more than a couple of reasons, I detailed it in the post Besties last April so I won't go in to it here. Except to say that Pierce was one of them. I sing Beautiful Boy to him most nights as I lay him in his crib, when it played, it helped me get my ass up more than a few of those hills.

The adrenaline healed my empty stomach and numbed my aching feet, legs, calfs and everything below my waist. I pulled my earbuds out on mile ten. Hearing the thunder of the other runners around me proved useful. The distance between markers 11 and 12 seemed further and further.

That last mile I pictured two more mind clouds; the first of me wearing my Blue Lions T-Ball jersey running down a first base line with my dad yelling "run like the wind son!", the second was picturing Ash holding Pierce at the finish line cheering Daddy on. I smiled at my wife and gave Pierce a pat on the head as I finished. It would have been infinitely more difficult without her support (asiu).

13.1 miles @ 2hrs 1 min 52 sec This is 12 minutes longer than I wanted but I am pleased with the result, considering the type of course and that I didn't stop and walk once.

I'm coming for you Marathon!

**Unless you ask Ash about fixing our back door.

When all Else Fails, Bribe!

I never thought I'd be the type of parent that needed to bribe their kids to get them to do what I wanted them to do. But I overlooked the fine print of evolution, he's smarter than I am.

Every parent should hope that their kids become better than they are. As a Dada, that's what I work for. At the office and at home, the goal is to give the next generation every opportunity to be better, to achieve more, to move the bar higher for the grand kids and the great grand kids.

In the post Inaugural Christmas I described our morning ritual. Pierce wakes up and babbles to himself and that is my cue to go downstairs and make coffee, also to get his morning snack ready. After those simple preparations, I'll go back upstairs and open his door chanting something like "Is my little blue, blue, blue, blueberry head in here? He'll smile and chuckle to himself all while rolling around in his crib holding the stuffed animal of the week. After changing his diaper, we'd go downstairs and right before we hit the last step, I'd ask him for a kiss, he'd oblige and now without me asking when we get to that step, he'll turn his head an plant a wet one right on my mouth and smile. It's the best.

I grab my coffee, hand him his milk and grab the snack trap full of Morning O's. Pierce and I will sit on the couch, under a blanket, he'll eat his snack, I'll sip my coffee and smell his sweet hair and kiss his soft cheeks all in the glow of HLN. We'd sit for 10-15 minutes before he was ready to get down and start playing. About four weeks ago, 10-15 minutes turned in to 1-2 minutes.

I missed those minutes so much that I asked Ashleigh to pick up a more exciting cereal without compromising his healthy diet of course. I figured he was bored of the plain Organic Morning O's. Ash (not knowing my motivation) obliged and picked up Fruitful O's. There we were, Sunday Morning Pierce and I snuggled up again, it was just like old times. He ate a whole snack trap worth and I smiled at his Mama. She squinted at me and put two and two together, the 15 minutes were up and Pierce was off to play. Ash shook her head in a way that only spouses can, it's that "I can't believe you but I can believe you" sort of head shake.

The next morning, it was back to 1-2 minutes. It wasn't the cereal, Pierce doesn't need a morning snack, he's content to play and wait for breakfast. He does sleep 10 hours (which I'm not complaining about) he's just ready to spend some of that energy. That is what I tell myself anyway, as I sit without my cuddling buddy.

I bribed him with Organic Fruit Loops and stepped in to a time machine for one morning. I'm glad that he's not old enough to realize that I compromised my parenting, although I'm sure that deep inside that brain of his, he knows he has me right where he wants me. I'll concede the point on this one and look forward to our future chess matches.

My experiences are new to me, the lessons learned are probably not new to you. Most of the time, I'm just figuring out what the Silver and Black Lining is?

Hook, Swipe and Stab

I pick my spots when it comes to aggression. I've found little use for the emotion, relying instead on patience and terrible wit. Every now and again a situation presents itself when your patience fails you and a man is overcome with a testosterone fueled moment of aggression.

It happened this past Valentine's Day. I happened to be out to lunch with my beautiful wife. Is it a coincidence that something like this would happen on our 13th Valentine's Day?

There we were at a lovely Italian Restaurant conversing over one subject (Pierce) but a myriad of topics. They were normal conversations that parents of a 16 month old have: upcoming pre-pre-schools, potty training, his latest abilities and possible vacation plans.

It was clear to us that the guy next to us was clearly frustrated, over what, we weren't sure but it was coming to a point where I was going to have to make my displeasure known because it was starting to interrupt our lunch. It seemed like he was struggling using his fork. I was just trying to be nice when I handed him my unused fork, he placed it in his right hand and he immediately made and aggressive hook/swiping motion into a plate of pasta and stabbed a penne. He shoveled it into his mouth and smiled a smile that would let anyone know he was pleased with himself.

His Mama and I clapped and cheered as only two loving parents can. The penne made a perfect prey because he could stab it and cram it into his mouth without it falling off. He's made more progress since that day. We had mashed potatoes last night and he quickly learned that all he had to do was jam his spoon into a pile and they would stick. That strategy did little for him tonight when Dada made brown rice.

Just Write

I am not going to be wordy with this first of what I hope is a few posts. There have been three or four fun topics that I've wanted to write about but to put it simply, I've been apathetic. Seems like I go into hibernation when the days get shorter and the nights colder. For now, the wine glass is full and I'm ready to get started.

I just put Pierce down for bed. A full day it was and we both had a GRAND time. After walking down to the basement, I flipped on the tele and while I opened my bottle of Chateau Saint Jean I got to hear about the latest happenings in Syria.

Amateur video of a makeshift clinic was dancing across the screen and the obnoxious self serving anchor asked the field reporter to describe the scene. One of the victims, a six year old boy.

I looked down at my baby monitor to see my baby boy sleeping soundly in his warm room and cozy crib.

Lord, Thank You for my many blessings, please comfort the parents of that little boy.

Inaugural Christmas

While I had a good idea of how this day was going to go, I didn't have a good grasp on how it was going to feel. This marked the first Christmas that Ashleigh and I did not wake up in Ashland on Christmas morning.

Not waking up under the roofs of either of our parents homes, was foreign to us. Who would have thought, waking up in your own home would be unfamiliar, it was. Not walking down my parent's hallway, or Ash's parent's hallway, not seeing my Mama's Christmas tree or my other Mama preparing some kind of Christmas morning treat was unusual. It was definitely one of those mile markers, that I have referenced before.

As we turn the page, we appreciate those times in our lives, and look forward to the unwritten chapters ahead.



Hearing Pierce's morning babble through the monitor is one of my favorite parts of the day. He carries on for 15 or so minutes, talking to himself, hugging and squeezing his Rudolph or rambling a series of dadas or mamas. Today, he woke up with the same excitement that he wakes up with everyday, Christmas or not. However, I woke up with an exhilaration in my heart that is attributed to it being my son's second Christmas.

Mama grabbed the camera while I greeted my little "Christmas, Christmas, Christmas-head". He couldn't grin wider or be more content when I open the door and chant our chant. The chant isn't very creative. Whatever seems to be the object of the week is used as a prefix to "head". Pierce has been a: blueberry-head, kiwi-head, Pumpkin-head, pretty much any fruit or root vegetable. You think he'll find it entertaining when he's 15?

Our normal routine involves a snack trap of Cheerios and a sippy cup full of whole milk. Pierce is partial to his morning snack or any snack for that matter. Six days out of the week, Daddy and Pierce snuggle (under his Aunt Patti's homemade quilt), and have his treat. As Headline news plays, in the glow of the television, and under the influence of three or four sips of French Roast coffee, I watch contently as he shovels his well proportioned hand into his snack trap and pull out a fistful of Cheerios and not a half second later, they're inefficiently crammed in to his mouth.

This day was different. Mama recorded us coming down the stairs and as we rounded the landing on our way to the kitchen, Pierce sensed a different arrangement of furniture in the living room. He chirped and saw his grand prize. He flung his upper torso parallel to the floor (common, anytime he wants down), and as a I obliged, he hustled over to his new Doug and Melissa's Corner Kitchen.

The three hours that followed were the three most pleasurable hours of my life. Watching my son play with his Mama and his new prizes while being artificially amped up on his first taste of authentic Danish Kringle made my insides warm. I know this invokes many of your gag reflexes but I can't help it. I'm writing what I feel and it felt amazing.

After Pierce crashed on his newly opened Moose body pillow, Ash and I watched the 20 plus minutes that I recorded. The above video is one of the shortest and captures how jubilant he was. A visit with family later in the evening involved the traditional appearance from Santa. I know Pierce's amazement with that aspect will grow exponentially over the next few years.

I am going to refer to this December 25th, 2011 as the "Inaugural". This year, we started laying the foundation for new Qualnandez Family traditions. I want to thank everyone involved for their love and kindness.

My experiences are new to me, the lessons learned are probably not new to you. Most of the time, I'm just working out in my head, what the Silver and Black Lining is.

Reach

Tippy toes.
Creased Red Robeez.
PZH standing as tall as his frame will allow.
One fourteen month old nose barely clearing the bathroom vanity.
PZH reaching as far up and across as his arm will extend.
All in an effort to grab the book looking object playing the Christmas music.

It's Sunday morning and I have a mug of coffee in my hand, typically when I get like this it's dark out and I have a a glass of wine in my hand while sitting in a swivel chair with a robe on smoking a cigar and listening to Adele.

I can't tell you when the last time I physically stretched out as far as I could to attain something much less what it was. How about metaphorically? What was my motivation for focusing all of my potential energy to accomplish something. It doesn't matter what it was, it only matters that I shouldn't have had to think as long as I did to remember what it was.

Kids can teach you a lot if you let them. They force you to relearn some important lessons too. All you have to do is pay close attention cause they can be right in front of you.

The lesson that Pierce helped me create today was that while I have goals for us as a family, I should always be able to answer the question "What are your personal short/long term goals?" without hesitation. What are you doing to get better everyday?

It won't be long before Pierce is helping the grandmas grab the baking sheets from the top cabinet. He probably won't be wearing red Robeez but the first time I see him do it, I hope I remember the morning when his nostrils were at their apex, just barely visible over the counter.

Post Script
I was joking about the robe and Adele scenario.

Sunday Morning Wrestling

No need to get wordy. Jumping on the bed set up an exciting day for Pierce and Dad.