Screaming Calves

It was dark and early Friday morning when I slipped out of the house and headed for the home of our fearless leader. Hood to Coast team #760 convened according to general plan and acquainted ourselves with each other. We loaded our John and Phil's rental van and borrowed red Chevy Suburban with Gatorade, Vitamin Water, Power Bars, and fruit. The drivers used window paint to decorate their rigs with a variety of verbage. Van #1 headed for Mt. Hood where Carle began her first leg at 10:15 am at Timberline Lodge.

Van #2, the red Chevy Sub, was my place of abode during the majority of this important event. I joined Sally, Sam, Deena, Brie, Andrea (the other five runners for our van) and Katie (the Cheerleader) and Josh (the Cheerleader/Driver). Ours was a joyful and pleasant crew. Because the 6 team members in Bottom of the Barrel's van #1 ran the first 6 legs of the race, we had no need to be on the race course until later in the day. So we enjoyed a leisurely breakfast at the Tollgate Inn in Sandy and Josh added the finishing touches (flames on the front) to our red Sub.

We finally entered the race that afternoon, running to Portland from Sandy. It was an eventful time -- as Sam our speedy runner was eating the miles toward Portland we pulled onto a highway to go meet him. Members of our team had just been commenting about an inflatable killer whale on top of another van, and how it was about to come flying off, when my very own bright orange 70's-style sleeping bag took flight into the air from the top of our vehicle.
And then there was the incident where I injured myself before my first leg. Andrea and I were praciticing for the wristband passage. I came toward her and had just reached her when I tripped over an edge of asphalt and significantly twisted my ankle. A common occurence for my clueless, unstable, awkward self, but not the best timing. We worried about my ability to run my legs of the race... but my short 4 miles on the Springwater Trail went well with regard to the ankle.

At dusk Andrea passed the snappy wristband to Carle and van #2 headed to Sam's parents' place in St. Helens. Sam cooked a gourmet pasta dish which we appreciatively consumed and then crashed on the couch/living room floor. One to two hours of sleep and then Josh's phone rang and we headed off in the dark (it was between midnight and 1 am) to the next runner exchange. Runners running through the night, headlamps bobbing, light rays picking up dust particles from the gravel-spread roads. Hills that never end. Light sources failed on three occasions and our runners begged lights from other kindly teams.

I ran around 5 am, in the dark just before dawn. I was shivering from the cold and lack of sleep, but running warmed me and all was well. I kept another runner within view the entire time, imagined noises in the bushes -- and over all enjoyed the run very much. I recalled as I ran the words of undetermined meaning: "and we went rattling through the night as though it were a thing to shut us in" -- words of my short acquaintance Tamar. I heard a rooster crow during my last mile or so.

After the second trade-off between team halves, van #2 went to Josh's parents' place to crash for a time. One more hour of sleep, and then we were on our way again, this time to complete the race.
During this phase of the race we had a particular amount of fun cheering for persons of all teams. It would seem that we did more cheering than any other team, and I think it might be true. I think we cheered for at least one person four times -- they would pass us as we sat in our rig, then we would pass them and go sit somewhere else, they would pass us again, and we would pass them. It was the best way to spend our time in between running.

My last leg was 7.4 miles, which I will sadly say I did not run nearly all of. By that time I was low on sleep and energy, felt ill, and was probably clinically dehydrated. (I weighed myself the next day, had consumed significant liquids between my last leg and that time, and I was 5 lbs less than the previous weekend. Probably a fair amount of that was water loss.) It was amazing how many people encouraged me out on that usually lonely logging road with the sun beating down and a breeze blowing. It was "good job," "keep it up," and even a "give it up" complete with a high five as one guy jogged by (to clarify, that would be "give it up" as directly opposed to "give up"). There were two sets of mounted police on that section of the course. My team met me with water (which I dumped down my back, etc) before the 2 mile mark.

Andrea finished the race down on the beach at Seaside, and we all joined her for the run to the medal-receiving spot. We performed better than a 9.5 minute mile average. For, though I was slow, many of our runners were fast, Sam pulling off mostly sub-7 minute miles and Ben eating the hills like a champ. We weren't anything near the 5 minute miles of the fastest team, but we weren't the slowest either.
My supportive and fabulous brother met us on the beach and took some pictures.


***
There was the celebration of the evening (during which I ate ice cream with my friend Annika and later observed the craziness on the beach as I conversed (almost shouting because the band was too loud) with someone at some distance from the crowd).

It may have seemed like the drama ended as our eyes closed in slumber that evening. However, the memorable times were yet in the making.
After breakfast on Sunday, we washed the John and Phil's rental van and attempted to wash the red Chevy Suburban. Unfortunately, large portions of the purple painting had been performed on the original red paint... and while much of it came off with ease, a few strategic samples remained stubbornly. Included in these samples were three of our names (mine included) over one of the back windows, "Bottom of the Barrel" inscribed on the hood of the vehicle (where the paint had previously worn thin in typical old car hood paint fashion), and a saying which I will not mention.
Calling of an ex-auto-detailer, a trip to Sally's auto-detailer friend, minutes spent with many people scrubbing words off the hood, black paint over the "saying" and we eventually ceased our efforts. My name was less noticeable but still present.

Fred Meyer Hood to Coast 2006 has passed into history but will remain an important landmark in the annals of my life. I can't say I've ever done the likes before... but I certainly plan to do similarly again.

Dead Dark

Once in the distant history of my church attendance at Hopewell, our minister RW imparted some sage advice to those who may think of dating. The point of this advice was to dispel unrealistic ideas about the girl/boy friend. He said the guy should go visit the girl when she has flour on her apron and maybe that the girl should visit the guy when he has grease on his coveralls.

I think it's great advice... only, I have a new version to propose. The guy/girl should visit the other while they are on the necropsy floor, a dead horse on the table, abdomen splayed open, guts layed out on the floor, the lungs and heart on a table, the head on another table. The girl/boy friend being visited is adorned in green clothing with a brown, full-length vinyl apron covering the majority of their front side. A significant quantity of partially dried blood is arrayed in long drips or even splashes down the front of the brown apron. The girl/boy friend's gloves are covered in blood, dried blood extends a couple inches up the arm above the glove, and the girl even sports a few drops of blood on her white covering which she would have been more intelligent to exchange for a black one. The girl/boyfriend may at that moment be wielding a long necropsy knife against some part of the anatomy, and the picture is complete.

***Yesterday the power went out as we were necropsying a dead horse and a puppy. Imagine the picture above augmented by a dark room. We were instructed to drop what we were doing and go outside - the necropsy technician didn't want us hacking on ourselves or falling on knives. He himself stated that he was quite skilled at cutting up horses in the dark, and after a while returned to the room to do so. (There were a couple weak emergency lights in the room, to be honest.) We waited for over an hour, out on the loading dock. The rendering truck came by to pick up some items, and we went inside to (in futile hope) escape the smell of the truck and see if we could finish up the puppy case by flashlight. This we were permitted to do, so KS and I held weak light sources as JH finished the puppy. It was reminiscent of camping and going to the outhouse in the dark, only in a very different environment. Sadly, one door was open to the outdoors and the rendering truck smell came wafting in for our enjoyment.
I only wish for a picture to share the sick humor of the experience.

More Social Time

There is sticky goo on the colon key on this computer lab computer. People should not leave sticky goo on keyboards.

This week I have had the chance to exercise my social powers. My friend LK called in the morning and we spoke of getting together some time. It was unclear when a particularly suitable time would occur though we thought to fit something in this week.
I finished my run Monday afternoon and was shortly to enter the vet school for an evening shift in the small animal ICU. My fellow necropsy/emergency student KS came along and informed me that we were cut free for the night -- there wasn't anything critical in the ICU so really no point in staying.
So I called LK and ended up at her parents' place for supper (that would be dinner for the non-southerner/non-Mennonite/non-supper eating sorts). We had a great time talking of animal ailments and discussing important issues. We have a lot in common, it seems -- which may stem from both being siblings to older brothers. We like to do "boy stuff" and don't have great sympathy for giddy, boy-chasing girls.
We took a bike ride across the freeway and past the Freeway Lakes, which I never knew existed until that day. I am a woos when it comes to going quickly down a hill with a road shoulder very close. Roads tend to curve down toward the ditches on either side, and they attempt to send my bike in the same direction. The weather was fantastic and the ride very pleasant. We must do similarly again sometime.

Quality Time

A quality weekend has recently passed into history, ushering in what promises to be a quality semana.
My brother's friend AK made his appearance Friday night at our abode and spent the weekend with various Hopewellites. It gave me an excuse to turn to domestic activities like baking and pancake-making -- these are rarities during my vet-student schedule. AK and my brother went spelunking on Saturday and I spent time in the herb garden (which I have largely neglected for much time) and picking blackberries.

We spent a significant part of Sunday with the GG family -- there for dinner after the morning service and again for a snack after the evening service. We had quality discussions and humor (as one can only expect at the G household) in an easy, comfortable atmosphere. Ah, it was a good day.

Wedding Weekend

Friday evening ushered in my most insane weekend yet. You see, my Uncle Paul was getting married on Saturday in Felton, CA and I really wanted to be there. A potential side benefit was "getting even" with him for driving all the way to Oregon for my college graduation. So I booked a Saturday morning flight from PDX to San Jose.

Of course, there was more happening said weekend than my uncle's wedding. I was responsible for a case in the large animal hospital. And LK invited me to the Harrisburg MC youth group VB/softball games. Strangely, my friend CS invited me to go rafting, and my friend JG invited me for breakfast on Saturday. When it precipitates it floods.

Certain of those options were mutually exclusive. No way I was going to attend the wedding and go rafting and eat breakfast with JG and Co. But the volleyball/softball... was still an option.

So Friday evening I joined the Harrisburg youths for about an hour of volleyball. I had a good time, then headed home and was there by some time after 11pm. It was 1 am by the time I was done washing clothes and eating supper, so I crashed for 2 hours and arose at some point after 3 am.
I parked my car at the Portland Airport and took myself to the proper terminal and waited for boarding. My flight was scheduled to fly at 6:45 am and arrive in San Jose around 8:30. We all boarded, and after a while we backed away from the terminal... and then we returned to the terminal. The pilot explained that he started having stomach cramps as they backed from the terminal, and he would not be flying the plane. It was sad, but also rather amusing. I felt bad for the pilot -- what a reason to give for your inability to fly the plane. :)
They looked for another pilot, didn't find one, and ended up rerouting us. I was worried that my whirl-wind trip planes would prove fruitless and I would miss the wedding... but I was sent off to San Francisco on an ~ 9 am flight and this was compatible with the wedding. I switched my rental booking to a San Francisco pick-up.

It crossed my mind to be concerned about traversing the San Fran airport and finding my rental in good time, but airports possess amazingly good directions and all was well. Obtaining the rental was hitch-less though the line was seriously long. The rental lady almost got me to buy a full tank of gas so I wouldn't have to refuel before I returned the car -- but $50!! Like I was going to use that much gas in my short little trip. She took it off the bill.
My rental was a white Mazda3. I stepped in, scanned the shift set-up, and pulled out -- trepidacious because the car was new to me and I don't have oodles of money to spend on crashed or dinged rental cars. I was driving along, and lo! -- the car would rev but would not shift to the next gear. There were these little plus-minus signs above and below the shifter and further lo! moving toward the + set the car in the next gear. So, great, I thought I had it somewhat figured out but chose to stop somewhere and read the driving directions.
Found out I was in the manual shift mode of a Sport AT set-up. The manual shift mode was grand and all, fun to experience, etc -- but in the interest of my pocket book and physical safety (and given my superb sleep of the night before) I switched into the full-auto mode.

"They" say that California drivers are worse than those in Oregon. I don't know if that's true -- most of them seemed pretty sane -- but for such a short trip I saw my share of nonsense. There was the hatchback Honda Civic on the curves of Hwy 17 -- it kept acting like it would change lanes but didn't and never put on a blinker. I gave it a wide berth. And on my way back from the wedding this Toyota Matrix merged onto the freeway and tried to merge into the fast lane in front of my car. Fine and all, except that they would have been smashed if I hadn't slowed down. I think there was less than a foot of lee-way even at that. And then they got stuck a hundred feet ahead as is often the case with such people. Funny.

The wedding was a fun occasion. I gained a new aunt who has a horse and enjoys outdoors activities (she and my uncle are going on a horse packing trip for their honeymoon). I met two second cousins for the first time and met two of my mom's first cousins. They were all very nice people -- the sort I am pleased to be related to. And then there were my mom's youngest brother and most of his family, and my mom's parents. It was a great reunion.

I sped off after the wedding ceremony and pictures and a portion of the hors d'oeuvres. It was sad to leave so soon, but it was the only way I could make it to the wedding. It was a certainly worthwhile trip.
I had some fun experiences on the way home, but enough of that for now.

Horses should not impale themselves on fence posts. It is not good for their owners, veterinarians, or vet students. Had one such traumatic case today -- bad, bad situation.

We did a periosteal elevation surgery yesterday and I got to suture the closure -- about the most hands-on surgery stuff I've done so far in the rotation (the clinical fellows and residents get to do most of the stuff the senior clinicians don't do). Who knows when I'll get lots of hands on experience -- hopefully during my rotation at the Caine Center in Idaho and during the Rural Veterinary Practice rotation.

***
As an aside, Steve Zehr spoke at church on Sunday -- spoke about getting back our first love for Christ. It is a subject always timely and one that rings deeply in my heart. The growth of love for God is a thing that sometimes seems to come slowly -- the more we live, the more we come to understand who HE really is. It's hard to love an esoteric concept just because you're told you should -- quite another to grasp WHO God is, what his attributes are, and to appreciate him more deeply because of that understanding. Broader life experiences help, too -- it's one thing to know that God comforts the brokenhearted -- quite another to feel the comfort yourself.