A guest post from Buster:
It was the beginning of my eighth grade year in a back-to-school assembly. The student emcee called down several jr. high boys to the gym floor. Then the emcee asked them to name their girlfriends, who were also then asked to come down to the gym floor. I really didn’t have a girlfriend (I would like to think it was because I had more than one), so the stupid girl announcing the assembly just picks this girl named Lucy that was a friend of mine, but certainly not my girlfriend. I was very uncomfortable with the whole thing, and I was not happy about this because everybody knew the other guys had their girlfriends, but LUCY WAS NOT MY GIRLFRIEND (I think I even had a crush on somebody else at the time and didn’t want to ruin my chances with her by having my love for Lucy publicly and falsely proclaimed against my will). The emcee proceeded to have each of us boys blindfolded. Then, much to my discomfort, she said that each of the girlfriends was going to kiss their respective boyfriends, and then the boys were supposed to rate the kiss on a scale of 1 to 10. I was blindfolded, angry, and mortified. I’m surprised I didn’t wet my pants. I could hear (but not see) as the crowd hollered and whistled as the emcee counted down for the girls to kiss their boyfriends. Was this almost-stranger Lucy really going to kiss me?!? Right in front of the whole damn jr. high study body?!? (Keep in mind how awkward those jr. high years were.) “3! . . . 2! . . . 1!” and sure enough, I felt a pair of lips press against mine. WHAT THE HECK! Was this really happening?!? Aaaagh! (Just thinking about this is making me want to lose my lunch still today.) Still blindfolded, the judging began. Studly jr. high boyfriend #1 joyfully exclaims, “10!” Studly jr. high boyfriend #2 exuberantly repeats, “10!” Studly jr. high boyfriend #3 raucously yells, “10!” Then to me, pseudo boyfriend #4. I panicked. What should I do? I don’t want everybody in the whole stinking jr. high to think I’ve got the hots for Lucy, but Lucy is a nice girl and I don’t want to hurt her feelings. My pride won out as I said in the microphone, “6.” The crowd groaned. A 6? What was I doing? The kiss wasn’t that bad, but I had to keep my options open. I had an entire school year of flirting ahead of me! I couldn’t ruin it by pinning my hot lips on Lucy! At that point, the emcee said we could remove our blindfolds, which we did. Due to the bright gym lights and the blood in my bright red, flushed face, it took a moment for my eyes to adjust, but then I saw her standing in front of me . . . my mom! That damn emcee had set me up! I thought Lucy had really kissed me. I don’t know who was worse off, me having ranked my mom’s kiss as a 6, or the other idiots who had ranked a kiss from their “mommies” as a 10! The whole thing stunk to high heaven, unless you were sitting in the puberty-ridden jr. high audience laughing your butt off.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Water Time-Out
My junior year in high school our basketball team made it to the Nevada State Tournament in Reno. We were excited, and a little nervous. I remember the eight hour drive from Alamo, how big the arena felt and how intimidating the crowd seemed as we began our warm ups prior to the game. For starting lineup introductions the starters were on the bench and the other players lined up on each side. The starters, after introduction, would go to the middle of the court. I was the last to be introduced and eagerly jumped up and headed to mid court to high five and chest bump the four other starters. I remember thinking as I was running to mid court that it would be a bad time to trip or fall. I then remember thinking that I might be running in a little fast to get shut down in time. What happened next was somewhat a blur. Somehow, while trying to stop and turn simultaneously, I tripped/lost footing and piled it up into the other four players, taking one down with me. I remember how quiet it was as I lay there in a heap trying to figure out what in the hell just happened. Thankfully my wit has always been somewhat better than my athletic ability. I immediately sprang to my feet and motioned to the ref that a towel was needed because there was water on the court (which there now was because my chubby little face had just slid 15 feet across the floor). The ref came over to inspect, motioned to a staff member, and like that two towel boys were on the court cleaning up the “arrant water” that had clearly caused my fall. The game was delayed about five minutes because of the ordeal.
Mrs. Leavitt, I Presume
During my senior year of college I worked as student director of the center for politics and public service at SUU. We sponsored a debate between then Governor Michael Leavitt and his challenger on campus two weeks before the election. I greeted Governor Leavitt’s entourage as they arrived at the event and chatted briefly with the Governor. He wanted a room to get ready, so I showed him to his prep area. As I was leaving the room he asked that I see that he was left alone for a few minutes prep. After closing the door I realized I had forgotten to give him my business card with my contact information if he needed anything. Standing outside his door I could not decide whether to go back in and interrupt or just forget it. Just then a middle aged attractive lady came down the hall and asked where the Governor had gone. I recognized her from the entourage and was positive she must be one of the staff. I informed her that he was inside the door but had requested to be left alone. Then, seeing a chance to fix my dilemma, I asked her, since she worked for the governor, if she could be so kind as to give my business card to the Governor once he was finished. She looked at me somewhat confused and then began to chuckle. She then introduced herself. It was Jackie, his wife. I was so bright red she must had felt bad for me. In a half hearted attempt to break the awkward silence she informed me that it was not a big deal, and that she viewed it as a compliment since most personal assistants were so young these days!
I had about 30 minutes before I was on live TV to recover! Once again, Sean at his finest.
Monday, October 13, 2008
Grand Canyon Adventure 2008
Over a year ago I was approached by my old boss and good friend about joining their group on the annual rim to rim Grand Canyon adventure in 2008. With my eternal optimism and procrastinating attitude the response was a no brainer. Of course I was in! What the hell, it was a year away! What could be more exciting and challenging than hiking from one rim of the Grand Canyon to the other (approx 24 miles) in one day? That night I informed my wife that we, the adventurers that we are, were joining the 2008 hike. Kate was pregnant with our son at the time and gave an amused chuckle. “Here we go again” she replied. “You Sean Stewart, have never hiked a day in your life. You are actually going to train for this?” I knew what she was getting at. There was some history to her comment.
Three years ago we had been invited by the same group for the same adventure. Like this time, I had agreed to join. However, I then conveniently blocked out the memory of the whole thing until two weeks before the hike. I would say forgot, but that would not be accurate. There were many times during that year while I was inhaling a dessert or gorging myself at a buffet that I would think, hmmm.. I should be training for that hike. I would then commit to start training the next day. The next day I would simply repeat the same process. It worked very well in keeping me relaxed and calm…and I gained considerable weight.
Kate, on the other hand, had trained for the event (even running a half marathon in preparation). She was very frustrated with me and my rather unusual training regime. Two weeks before the hike, after a humiliating trip to the running store, she declared me ineligible for the event (still not sure who gave her the authority to do so, but deep down I was thankful) and we were forced to bow out. We ended up going on the 2006 hike as drivers who moved the cars from the north rim to the south rim, and then picked up the hikers at the trail head. I thoroughly enjoyed the trip. My wife, on the other hand, is still bitter about it.
Ah yes, the running store. Probably an adventure I should share. Kate, the runner, found a running store in Las Vegas that carries every shoe known to man. The theory of the Grand Canyon was that, because of the distance, you want the most comfortable shoe you can find. Kate recommended that I go the running store and have their friendly sales staff fit me with a custom shoe. She explained that they had a treadmill and would film me running (ok walking) and then fit me to the shoe that best supports my walking style and movement. She went on an on about the professional staff and their commitment to the sport.
I took her advice and dropped in to be outfitted. Luckily for me it was close to my favorite frozen custard shop. After stopping for a triple scoop of chocolate I strolled into the running store ready for action. With my wallet in one hand and a dripping chocolate cone in the other I sought out someone to assist me. I immediately noticed that every worker in the store was male, early twenties, and all were very fit. No wonder this was Kate’s favorite store! There were two other patrons in the store, both women. From their build I would assumed these women were long distance runners who had not stopped to eat in several months. Despite Kate’s stories of an encouraging staff eager to assist, no one approached me. When I approached one of the staff he quickly exited to the back of the store mumbling something about an inventory check for another customer.
After licking the side of the cone I surveyed the room and found and employee at the register. As I approached him his expression changed to that of a confused and nervous employee who was unsure whether to listen to me or call security. I explained that I was preparing to hike the Grand Canyon in one day and needed a comfortable shoe that would support my feet for 24 miles. In a confused tone he asked, “You are doing what?” I tried to explain the Grand Canyon, my need for shoes, my wife’s explanation of a treadmill, and filming, and comfort, but cut it short when I realized he was not really processing anything I was saying. He politely explained that the treadmill (for me) would be a waste and that what I needed was a “beginners” trail shoe. He also explained that I needed to look into that hike because it was a very advanced and people had died on the trail. I thanked him for his brutal honesty, took another lick of the custard, and calmly got the hell out of there.
Wow, did I digress. Back to one year ago, my living room, and Kate challenging my commitment. I explained to Kate that I had learned my lesson the year previous, that I was committed, and would not let her down. She rolled her eyes and that was the last I thought about it until June of this year.
In June we were at a friend’s house who had agreed to accompany us on the trip and drive our vehicle from the North Rim to the South Rim of the Grand Canyon. For fun we looked up online information on the hike. We were excited to find a whole section on the rim to rim hike including scenery we would see, the terrain, animals, views, etc. All was going well until we read the red bold lettering stating that you should not attempt the hike in any time period less than three days. Three days! The article went on with a message from rangers stating not to, under any circumstances, attempt to traverse the canyon in one day followed by a list of those who had died trying and a count of those airlifted via flight-for-life in the past couple of years. A sick feeling came over me. Maybe I should train… I sipped a cola as I thought about the danger.
In early August my wife mapped out four hikes for us to prepare for the rim to rim. The first was a three mile, followed by a five mile, then a ten mile. The week before the rim to rim we hiked 16 miles. Each hike left me sore and doubting my ability. Each week I would recover with the aid of Vegas buffets, soda by the gallon, and ice cream. Kate was slimming down. I was bulking up. My hope was that the stored energy would come in handy somewhere in the bottom of the canyon.
Soon enough the weekend of the hike arrived. We left Vegas with our spirits high and headed for our hotel on the North Rim. Of course I had procrastinated booking our rooms on the north rim and so the only available lodging for us was a shanty town just outside the park. The online booking indicated they were individual cabins, but in actuality they were individual cabins divided in four to maximize occupancy. The room was equipped with a double bed (which was a tad small for me….let alone my wife and I), and a connected bathroom. There literally was not enough room to turn around between the bed and bathroom. The floors were elevated and creaked with every movement. To say the walls were paper thin would be an exaggeration. Paper would have deflected much more sound than these walls. We could hear any of the four rooms moving, coughing (bathroom stuff), flushing bathroom stuff, washing, whispering, and almost thinking! It was a long night!
The next morning we got out of bed at 4:30am (I would say woke up, but that would imply we actually slept) in order to dress and drive the half hour to the drop point. Anticipation was high and we were excited to get to hiking. We started hiking around 5:30, and used head lamps to navigate the dark for the first couple of miles. As it began to break morning I quickly realized that the Grand Canyon was a lot bigger than I remember it being. We had descended a couple thousand feet but it appeared we were a long way from the bottom! Panic set in as I realized I may be in over my head! However, ignorance was bliss and I trudged forward.
There is really no way to explain what it feels like to hike 12 hours. I had been warned of the pain, and was popping ibuprofen like skittles, but the ache of the wear on the body, especially a slightly rotund body like myself, cannot be medicated. I hurt early on and often. 14 miles into the hike we arrived at the bottom of the canyon at what is called Phantom Ranch. I was somewhat sore and tired, and looking for a place to sit. To my dismay every bench and seat had some tree hugging granola eating nature enthusiast and his five friends crowded around visiting on the beauty of the canyon. To me, at this point, the beauty of the canyon would be getting out of it alive! One in our group made the comment that Phantom Ranch is where this group of reality hikers stopped being polite and started getting real!
At this stop I changed my socks and ate yet another Cliff Bar to keep the energy up. For those non-hikers out there, it appears there that granola is the main ingredient in all food. Cliff bars are simply put, granola on steroids. They are a one inch by one inch, five pound snack of granola and other chemical compounds guaranteed to conquer the hunger. Distractions are the disgusting taste and the fact that, by looking at the texture of the bar, you realize it is going to clog you up like a block of cheese. My theory, upon observing this substance, was that it had to be the official snack of the park restroom facility managers and staff, because there was no way anyone eating this stuff would be making any restroom stops for at least a week.
We left Phantom Ranch shortly after 11am. I remember feeling confident we would be out of the canyon by 2 or 3. After all, we had completed 14 of the 24 miles! Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, I didn’t realize for another mile or so that the last 8 miles was straight up! The views at the bottom of the canyon were amazing, and the Colorado River was breathtaking. Kate took between five and ten thousand pictures on the hike, and I will forward.
Mile 19 was the point at which things started to deteriorate for me. At this point we were headed straight up, switchback after switchback. For a mile or so my calves and quads started to tighten and then full on cramp. Each step hurt and I was out of drugs (or Kate was hiding them from me for fear of an overdose) After hiking for what seemed to be 20 miles we finally arrived at Indian Gardens, a water stop and camp ground four and a half miles from the top. I remember the defeated feeling as I stared at the map stating that we had only come 4.7 miles from Phantom Ranch and still had 4.5 miles to go. Staring over the map to the mountain it appeared as if the top was so high up you couldn’t see it. I choked down another cliff bar, complained a lot to my poor wife, and we headed out. I wasn’t sure we would make it, but there truly was only one way out!
The last four and a half miles were brutal. A mile or so in my quad muscles began cramping with each step. Kate suggested I try to stretch them. As I stood on one leg bending the other back (can you all picture this awkward scenario) my muscles on the back of the leg began to cramp and I screamed out “I am going down!!!” It now is quite funny.
During the last three miles my rational thinking was somewhat diminished. I was mean to the day hikers we were meeting who were gleefully descending for a short hike. I contemplated the repercussions I would face verses the immediate benefit if I was able to successfully rip a rider from the mule train and dash away aboard the trusty stead. I also began to think that I would do better if somehow I could discard everything from my backpack! Considering my 280 lb frame and the fact that the backpack weighed at most 25 lbs, the logic was not sound. However, I was convinced this would help me make it to the top. I drained much of my water and we pressed forward. Ironically, I wasn’t the only one going crazy. One of the other hikers had the same thought and began feeding the food to the wildlife. At one point he found himself feeding his Cajon trail mix to some friendly squirrels. He felt bad about the gastrointestinal problems he undoubtedly gave the squirrels, but enjoyed the decrease in weight.
Several hours later we finally limped out of the top of the Canyon. I am not afraid to admit that I was even a little emotional when I finally hit level ground. We were exhausted, had very few muscles operating correctly, and were dying for some form of substance not containing granola!
That night, after a hot meal, we limped to our rooms for a long anticipated rest. We were sore the next morning, hardly able to move. However, we had agreed to meet the entire hike group for breakfast and were determined to show up looking strong. I devoured four ibuprofen, gritted my teeth, and after fifteen minutes or so made it out of bed and onto my feet! I was so proud!
One week later the muscles have stopped hurting, the blisters have disappeared, and we are actually thinking about next year! Of course, next year is an easy commitment; it’s still long way out!
Three years ago we had been invited by the same group for the same adventure. Like this time, I had agreed to join. However, I then conveniently blocked out the memory of the whole thing until two weeks before the hike. I would say forgot, but that would not be accurate. There were many times during that year while I was inhaling a dessert or gorging myself at a buffet that I would think, hmmm.. I should be training for that hike. I would then commit to start training the next day. The next day I would simply repeat the same process. It worked very well in keeping me relaxed and calm…and I gained considerable weight.
Kate, on the other hand, had trained for the event (even running a half marathon in preparation). She was very frustrated with me and my rather unusual training regime. Two weeks before the hike, after a humiliating trip to the running store, she declared me ineligible for the event (still not sure who gave her the authority to do so, but deep down I was thankful) and we were forced to bow out. We ended up going on the 2006 hike as drivers who moved the cars from the north rim to the south rim, and then picked up the hikers at the trail head. I thoroughly enjoyed the trip. My wife, on the other hand, is still bitter about it.
Ah yes, the running store. Probably an adventure I should share. Kate, the runner, found a running store in Las Vegas that carries every shoe known to man. The theory of the Grand Canyon was that, because of the distance, you want the most comfortable shoe you can find. Kate recommended that I go the running store and have their friendly sales staff fit me with a custom shoe. She explained that they had a treadmill and would film me running (ok walking) and then fit me to the shoe that best supports my walking style and movement. She went on an on about the professional staff and their commitment to the sport.
I took her advice and dropped in to be outfitted. Luckily for me it was close to my favorite frozen custard shop. After stopping for a triple scoop of chocolate I strolled into the running store ready for action. With my wallet in one hand and a dripping chocolate cone in the other I sought out someone to assist me. I immediately noticed that every worker in the store was male, early twenties, and all were very fit. No wonder this was Kate’s favorite store! There were two other patrons in the store, both women. From their build I would assumed these women were long distance runners who had not stopped to eat in several months. Despite Kate’s stories of an encouraging staff eager to assist, no one approached me. When I approached one of the staff he quickly exited to the back of the store mumbling something about an inventory check for another customer.
After licking the side of the cone I surveyed the room and found and employee at the register. As I approached him his expression changed to that of a confused and nervous employee who was unsure whether to listen to me or call security. I explained that I was preparing to hike the Grand Canyon in one day and needed a comfortable shoe that would support my feet for 24 miles. In a confused tone he asked, “You are doing what?” I tried to explain the Grand Canyon, my need for shoes, my wife’s explanation of a treadmill, and filming, and comfort, but cut it short when I realized he was not really processing anything I was saying. He politely explained that the treadmill (for me) would be a waste and that what I needed was a “beginners” trail shoe. He also explained that I needed to look into that hike because it was a very advanced and people had died on the trail. I thanked him for his brutal honesty, took another lick of the custard, and calmly got the hell out of there.
Wow, did I digress. Back to one year ago, my living room, and Kate challenging my commitment. I explained to Kate that I had learned my lesson the year previous, that I was committed, and would not let her down. She rolled her eyes and that was the last I thought about it until June of this year.
In June we were at a friend’s house who had agreed to accompany us on the trip and drive our vehicle from the North Rim to the South Rim of the Grand Canyon. For fun we looked up online information on the hike. We were excited to find a whole section on the rim to rim hike including scenery we would see, the terrain, animals, views, etc. All was going well until we read the red bold lettering stating that you should not attempt the hike in any time period less than three days. Three days! The article went on with a message from rangers stating not to, under any circumstances, attempt to traverse the canyon in one day followed by a list of those who had died trying and a count of those airlifted via flight-for-life in the past couple of years. A sick feeling came over me. Maybe I should train… I sipped a cola as I thought about the danger.
In early August my wife mapped out four hikes for us to prepare for the rim to rim. The first was a three mile, followed by a five mile, then a ten mile. The week before the rim to rim we hiked 16 miles. Each hike left me sore and doubting my ability. Each week I would recover with the aid of Vegas buffets, soda by the gallon, and ice cream. Kate was slimming down. I was bulking up. My hope was that the stored energy would come in handy somewhere in the bottom of the canyon.
Soon enough the weekend of the hike arrived. We left Vegas with our spirits high and headed for our hotel on the North Rim. Of course I had procrastinated booking our rooms on the north rim and so the only available lodging for us was a shanty town just outside the park. The online booking indicated they were individual cabins, but in actuality they were individual cabins divided in four to maximize occupancy. The room was equipped with a double bed (which was a tad small for me….let alone my wife and I), and a connected bathroom. There literally was not enough room to turn around between the bed and bathroom. The floors were elevated and creaked with every movement. To say the walls were paper thin would be an exaggeration. Paper would have deflected much more sound than these walls. We could hear any of the four rooms moving, coughing (bathroom stuff), flushing bathroom stuff, washing, whispering, and almost thinking! It was a long night!
The next morning we got out of bed at 4:30am (I would say woke up, but that would imply we actually slept) in order to dress and drive the half hour to the drop point. Anticipation was high and we were excited to get to hiking. We started hiking around 5:30, and used head lamps to navigate the dark for the first couple of miles. As it began to break morning I quickly realized that the Grand Canyon was a lot bigger than I remember it being. We had descended a couple thousand feet but it appeared we were a long way from the bottom! Panic set in as I realized I may be in over my head! However, ignorance was bliss and I trudged forward.
There is really no way to explain what it feels like to hike 12 hours. I had been warned of the pain, and was popping ibuprofen like skittles, but the ache of the wear on the body, especially a slightly rotund body like myself, cannot be medicated. I hurt early on and often. 14 miles into the hike we arrived at the bottom of the canyon at what is called Phantom Ranch. I was somewhat sore and tired, and looking for a place to sit. To my dismay every bench and seat had some tree hugging granola eating nature enthusiast and his five friends crowded around visiting on the beauty of the canyon. To me, at this point, the beauty of the canyon would be getting out of it alive! One in our group made the comment that Phantom Ranch is where this group of reality hikers stopped being polite and started getting real!
At this stop I changed my socks and ate yet another Cliff Bar to keep the energy up. For those non-hikers out there, it appears there that granola is the main ingredient in all food. Cliff bars are simply put, granola on steroids. They are a one inch by one inch, five pound snack of granola and other chemical compounds guaranteed to conquer the hunger. Distractions are the disgusting taste and the fact that, by looking at the texture of the bar, you realize it is going to clog you up like a block of cheese. My theory, upon observing this substance, was that it had to be the official snack of the park restroom facility managers and staff, because there was no way anyone eating this stuff would be making any restroom stops for at least a week.
We left Phantom Ranch shortly after 11am. I remember feeling confident we would be out of the canyon by 2 or 3. After all, we had completed 14 of the 24 miles! Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, I didn’t realize for another mile or so that the last 8 miles was straight up! The views at the bottom of the canyon were amazing, and the Colorado River was breathtaking. Kate took between five and ten thousand pictures on the hike, and I will forward.
Mile 19 was the point at which things started to deteriorate for me. At this point we were headed straight up, switchback after switchback. For a mile or so my calves and quads started to tighten and then full on cramp. Each step hurt and I was out of drugs (or Kate was hiding them from me for fear of an overdose) After hiking for what seemed to be 20 miles we finally arrived at Indian Gardens, a water stop and camp ground four and a half miles from the top. I remember the defeated feeling as I stared at the map stating that we had only come 4.7 miles from Phantom Ranch and still had 4.5 miles to go. Staring over the map to the mountain it appeared as if the top was so high up you couldn’t see it. I choked down another cliff bar, complained a lot to my poor wife, and we headed out. I wasn’t sure we would make it, but there truly was only one way out!
The last four and a half miles were brutal. A mile or so in my quad muscles began cramping with each step. Kate suggested I try to stretch them. As I stood on one leg bending the other back (can you all picture this awkward scenario) my muscles on the back of the leg began to cramp and I screamed out “I am going down!!!” It now is quite funny.
During the last three miles my rational thinking was somewhat diminished. I was mean to the day hikers we were meeting who were gleefully descending for a short hike. I contemplated the repercussions I would face verses the immediate benefit if I was able to successfully rip a rider from the mule train and dash away aboard the trusty stead. I also began to think that I would do better if somehow I could discard everything from my backpack! Considering my 280 lb frame and the fact that the backpack weighed at most 25 lbs, the logic was not sound. However, I was convinced this would help me make it to the top. I drained much of my water and we pressed forward. Ironically, I wasn’t the only one going crazy. One of the other hikers had the same thought and began feeding the food to the wildlife. At one point he found himself feeding his Cajon trail mix to some friendly squirrels. He felt bad about the gastrointestinal problems he undoubtedly gave the squirrels, but enjoyed the decrease in weight.
Several hours later we finally limped out of the top of the Canyon. I am not afraid to admit that I was even a little emotional when I finally hit level ground. We were exhausted, had very few muscles operating correctly, and were dying for some form of substance not containing granola!
That night, after a hot meal, we limped to our rooms for a long anticipated rest. We were sore the next morning, hardly able to move. However, we had agreed to meet the entire hike group for breakfast and were determined to show up looking strong. I devoured four ibuprofen, gritted my teeth, and after fifteen minutes or so made it out of bed and onto my feet! I was so proud!
One week later the muscles have stopped hurting, the blisters have disappeared, and we are actually thinking about next year! Of course, next year is an easy commitment; it’s still long way out!
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