Awake Oh Body

Yoga class was the bees knees but not quite what I had in mind. You see, dark rooms with water sounds and chants of “awake oh body awake” were endured but only drew me closer to the light and sounds across the hallway.

Most teachers try to learn names to connect. Well our well-intentioned yoga teacher called a graying woman Bonnie one session. “Bonnie” informed the teacher that she appreciated the effort as her name started with a “B” but it was not Bonnie. Then Mrs. “B” said something that made the beat and light across the hall more appealing still. She said, “Most people call me bitch, so anything starting with a ‘B’ is fine”. My laughter broke the silence and soon a new B-word entered my vocabulary – Bootcamp.

Across the hall was a room full of light, sound and sweat. It was the fitness start I needed after years of sitting with a few too many helpings of chips. After my first Bootcamp class my muscles were spent but my body and mind were fully awake. I was in the right place. Now a few years later, I am trying more classes, signing up for runs and enjoying fitness like I did in my twenties. I feel great.

Along with my beautiful wife, I now prefer being pushed by one whose name might as well be Mrs. “T” (Torture). One who dishes out pain with a smile. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

"FISH ON"

Dick and I first crossed paths in a conference room after a client asked Frey Design to team with Dick and his wife Marilyn, we would focus on design and they would do the writing and marketing plan. I think it was one of those situations when we both looked across the table at one another, smiled and thought, “Damn, I hope this goes well”!

Well, we hit it off, and soon Dick and I were teaming on other creative endeavors, meeting deadlines and celebrating with ice-cold beers while sharing stories beyond work. A friendship began.

As we shared about our love of the outdoors, it didn’t take long to discover which river most brought a smile to Dick’s face – the North Fork of the Umpqua. A river that is challenging and advanced for any fly fisherman seeking to land a steelhead.

In October, Dick and Marilyn made a special trip back to their favorite river. A welcome break from taxing hospital stays the previous two months. Dick was in the midst of a courageous fight with a rare rheumatoid disease. It made breathing difficult and oxygen support necessary.

There are days in life that become special. Not because we planned them to be but because for some reason greater than ourselves they somehow intersect the divine. This was one of those days. With arms full of gear, Marilyn muscled the tools of the trade while Dick steadied himself with his trekking poles for a careful descent to the river below.

Great marriages are great teams, and this team’s name is “Dick and Marilyn”, a team whose strengths and weaknesses are known and willingly supported to the others benefit. At river’s edge, Dick negotiated the shallow submerged rock shelf to the edge of deep water. He began to cast as so many times before. As part of the team, Marilyn was at his side, her hand securely holding the edge of his waders to aid his balance. Dick was again doing what he loved. It was his passion.

“Fish On”.

The excitement of the moment is captured in the photo above. This one was special.

With animation Dick recalled this fishing story as we met December 18th at our usual Friday spot for lunch with an end of the week cold beer (actually two). As he shared of that day, the focus of his gratefulness quickly shifted to Marilyn. He loved his wife dearly, and it was a privilege to just sit and listen as this man spoke so freely of his appreciation and devotion to the one he loved.

Unfortunately for all who knew Dick, he entered the hospital the next day and passed January 16, 2010. His memorial service was packed. Stories from friends continued as around a fire for hours. It was one of the most meaningful memorial services I have attended.

A life lived with passion. “Fish On” friend.

The Great Blue Heron

First light and bird life is in full motion in our neighborhood. On my crack of dawn wake-up stroll with camera in hand, I visit the lake and observe one bird standing above the rest – the Great Blue Heron.

While ducks are rooting grass to mud, seagulls soar, small birds perch, geese…well geese do what geese do, the Great Blue Heron moves with purpose, stealthily fishing the shore.

There are multiples of every other species scurrying about but one Great Blue Heron at this lake. She demands attention. She is beautiful, wise, incredibly patient and has full bragging rights in any fishing camp.

Avatar

I just experienced a visual experience that left me searching for words. Amazing. Unbelievable. Revolutionary. Literally out of this world.

If you haven’t seen Avatar, even if you don’t like sci-fi, go. And spend the couple extra bucks and watch in 3D.

Being a visual person, I felt I was seeing colors I had never seen communicated with a sharpness that made me feel like I was in a completely new reality.

Trail Running

Pounding the pavement has almost completely lost its appeal to me.

I am hooked on trails. Outdoors and fitness are in my DNA and since front door to trailhead is at tops only 20 minutes away, I often hear the trail calling me out. While the run may start in isolation the trail draws others too. Trail runners emerge as small herds without warning. A quick nod and "hey" and they are gone. I resonate with this culture.

Unpredictable simplicity is at the heart of running trails. Good shoes, some dirt and a little strategically placed poly, and you are good to go. Because trail conditions, forces of nature and seasons ensure a dynamic experience, I keep coming back.

Running on the roads is straight ahead linear training. Pace can change but you are for the most part running a line. Muscles slip into their familiar zone.

Trail running can at times be linear yet without warning becomes a dance with the wolves – rocks, roots, downed trees and unleashed dogs...which I truly don't mind. Short climbs precede steep rocky drops which morph to tight turns and sudden changes in pace. It is linear and lateral, slow then fast. Without question it works more muscles and requires more mental acuity than skimming the asphalt. Eyes are always darting to find the best path.

It makes me feel like a kid and I welcome that. Trail running is my new recess.

Design and Family

I am pretty sure I was born into a design grid. A family culture where white space and color placement were no accident. Being the son of an architect father and a creative mother meant that visual opinions were part of the day. We were often prompted to just stop and notice the view.

One of our favorite games as kids was to watch dad draw and try to guess what he was drawing. The very graphic vertical line was meant to stump us but we learned that it was a record album standing on end. Not fair. Gave us something to think about as we went off to bed.

Besides an orange, nuts, a comb and black socks our Christmas stockings were also occasionally filled with new color felt pens and if we were really good....a new rapidograph pen!

Four boys. Each of us found a creative outlet ranging from writing, speaking, design, illustration and photography. In a way we all found ways to engage story by design.

The stories continue to be told.