Arizona Dreaming

Post: 25
Weeks of training complete: 20 weeks, 3 days
Time remaining until Ironman: 11 weeks, 4 days
Miles swam: 84.062
Miles biked: 1,281.54
Miles run: 322.61

Goal: $5,000
Total raised: $1,000

My mind has drifted a lot these past few weeks. I keep getting tastes of a previous life; one that did not involve the responsibility of work and children.

I remember the strangely sweet smell of Nogales in the late spring sun. It is the smell of commerce and taco stands; urine and exhaust; lime and cerveza. Tequila sunrises in the promenade at noon. Enchilada and blanco tequila for a late lunch. The sounds of bargaining for ceramic goods painted in bright hues - great Christimas gifts for the folks back home - and a sleepy ride home, pressed against the window, as saguaro and prickly pear and shrub studded mountains roll by in the setting sun.

There is the brisk night air of Sedona. Stars as far as I can see; the smell of mesquite burning; marshmallows and sweaters and campfire stained sleeping bags. Red rocks towering in the morning; Oak Creek gurgling beneath my feet. Bacon and eggs and coffee. Hiking and afternoon beer. And then another beer. Somewhere some people are smoking something, people are laughing. The sun is warm; peaceful.

There are hundreds of these old memories in my head - the sign of a good life, a well-traveled life across the desert. I can name off places that most people just see as dots on a map and each of them have a story, a gathering of people associated with them. Spring Valley, Tubac, Bisbee, Show Low, Aravaipa, Hannagan Meadow, the Chiricahuas, the Santa Catalinas, the Sierra Ancha, Flagstaff, Williams, Naco, Lyman Lake, Patagonia, Fools Hollow, Eager, Springerville, Greer, Blue, the Black River. They all involve people, tents, fire, solitude. They all include good memories - dropped all over the state.

I thought this morning, as I rushed in from a 3-1/2 hour Wednesday morning workout session (4:45 am. to 8:15 a.m.), so I could literally eat, shower and run back out the door with the kids, about how easy these trips used to be, how often I took them for granted. How we almost, almost, became bored of camping out there in the middle of nowhere. How we slowly gave all that up, as our careers advanced, for the creature comforts of a middle-income life. No more hot dogs on a stick cooked over a ponderosa fire, no, we yuppie 20somethings settled for import beer and tuna tartare. Funny, I forget most of the restaurants. I remember each one of the camping spots.

I've already decided when the kids are older that part of my fitness program will involve hiking together, fishing together, playing together - exploring the mountains and the deserts and learning to love them the way I love them, learning to feel connected to them the way I did before I became disconnected.

I had an interesting day today. I had to fill in and do an interview for a reporter who had a scheduling conflict today. I interviewed Mr. Cartoon, who is a world-famous tattoo artist. He's tatted a who's who of the entertainment world - Beyonce, Justin Timberlake, 50 Cent, the list goes on and on. He's also actively involved in the lowrider culture. Born in the Harbor District of L.A., worked his way up from the streets. He's a very real person - a real mix of diverse personality traits and beliefs. No drugs or drinking, smart business sense, strong identity as an artist, believer in God and envisioning reality, strong supporter of youth and children, proud Latino/Chicano. It forced me to learn about a culture I knew little about. It was nice to step outside my daily routine.

Heidi was sick today, too. So instead of bringing the kids home after school, I took them out to dinner. We went to Red Robin and got chicken fingers and grilled cheese and French fries and chocolate milk and baloons, can't forget the baloons. Then we went and played in all the water fountains at the outdoor Tempe Marketplace. The kids got soaked. I brought them home, put them to bed, got ready for another big workout day and came here, to type.

Finally, but by no means least importantly. I'd like to give a huge thank you to my friend Sean. For those of you who don't know, I've known Sean since I was 3. That's right, 3. Can you believe that? He stepped up in true Coca fashion, rounding out the uneven total with a donation that would bring it to a smooth $1,000. Thanks, man. Hope things are going well with the newborn. Some day in the next few years the family and I are going to make it out that way. God knows we have a lot of people we need to visit in the Carolinas. Until then, bring on another weekend in Vegas. I miss you. The donation means a lot to me. It keeps me going - knowing that you guys are willing to give like that.

Until tomorrow,
Ed