Camp has begun!

Today is the first day of Camp NaNoWriMo and I am very excited.  My goal for camp this April is to write another 50,000+ words for a novel.  This one has grown on me.  It is titled 'Reunion Stories: The Triumphs, Trial and Tribulations of the Lincoln High Class of 1978.' I know its a bit of a long title, but I wanted it be be clear what I was talking about.  I've already made some good progress and even have an excerpt I am willing to share.  Enjoy!

Excerpt:

Mona picked up on the second ring. “Hello.”
“Hi, it’s me.  You busy?”
“No, not really, just working but that can always wait.  What’s up?”
“I just got a request from someone I barely remember to join the Facebook Group.  Do you remember Tad Roberts?”
“Tad Roberts. Tad Roberts. No it really isn’t familiar,” said Mona lost in thought.
“I looked up his picture and he was that one kids who was so into Disco, with the bell bottoms and the silk shirts open to the waist and the chains on his neck.  You know he wanted to be John Travolta in Saturday Night Fever.”
“Wait, I think I remember him. Afro and glasses?” Moan asked, her memory sparked.
“Yep, that’s him.  Or I should say was him.  He said he now goes by Teri,” said Jaime.
“Are you serious?  Do you think he’s transgender or just gay?”
“I don’t know, but there has to be a story in there somewhere.”
“I bet most of the alumni have at least one interesting story.  You know what, I think we should try to gather as many stories as we can and put it all together into a book.”
“That’s a great idea!  We could ask everyone to submit whatever stories they want, whether from High School or what’s happened to them since.  I bet we could get it all together and publish it for the reunion. Let me look at something.” Jaime was searching out a website on her computer. “Got it.  We could self-publish the books in full color for about $70 per book up to 150 copies.  It could be a sort of updated yearbook.”
“Of course that will be a lot of work,” Mona hesitated.
“Come on, I think we need to do this.  I’ll tell you what, we can put up a poll on the page to see if people would be interested.  We can ask if they would be willing to contribute as well as if they would be willing to buy one.”

NaNoWriMo 2014

We are fast approaching an exciting time of year. While the holidays are exciting, they aren't what I am referring to.  It's time for the National Novel Writing Month!

Each November hundreds of thousands of writers fuel their imaginations with coffee and attempt to put together a novel of at least 50,000 words in just 30 days.  While it is quite an accomplishment to complete your rough draft in that time, it is not impossible.  If you break it down, you only need to write 1667 words a day for 30 days.  Given that the average typist can type at least 25 words a minute, that translates to only 67 minutes of typing every day.

One of the great things about NaNoWriMo is that while you are writing your own novel, you are not writing alone.  You can participate in many events during the month to keep you motivated and cranking out the words.  There are virtual write-ins, actual write-ins as well as forums, blogs and various other resources available to the aspiring writer.

This is my second year participating and I am proud to say that I was successful in creating my very first novel last year.  Its currently in editing and is titled 'A Quarter Ton to Kona.'

So, why not dust off that idea you've had rolling around your brain for the last however many years and see what you can do?

THE CALL

Here is another excerpt from my novel:

I am in the middle of revising a budget spreadsheet at work when my cell phone rings. I look at the caller ID and it is Linda’s cell phone. I quickly answer.

“Hello.”

She doesn’t say anything right away so I think she hadn’t heard me. “Hello. Hello. Can you hear me” I say.

“I hear you” comes the reply and I can hear that something is wrong.

“Hold on a second” I say as I get up and head outside for a bit more privacy. Working in a room full of cubicles doesn’t afford any privacy.

“What’s up?” I ask.

“The doctor said I have to have more tests to make sure, but he thinks its breast cancer and wants to do a biopsy.” This comes out in a rush followed by the sounds of her sobbing.

“Oh dear,” I murmur as terrible thoughts flash through my brain. I haven’t had any direct dealing with this exact thing before but we have had family and friends who had.

“Where are you?” I ask.

“I just got home” she replies.

“I’m on my way.”

I know Joe, my boss, won’t have a problem with my leaving. I hurry back to my desk, save the work I had been doing, shoot Joe a quick email that I have to leave for the day and am out of the door before the computer shut down screen disappears.

I know Linda needs me and I hurry to get to her. The 25 minute drive to the house isn’t good. All of these horrible thoughts keep flashing through my head. What if we are too late and there isn’t anything the doctors can do?  What if we try everything and it isn’t enough? What if she suffers through all of the treatments we can find and cancer still wins in the end? I stop myself right there. I need to not look at the negative, but focus on the positive. I instinctively know that I have to be the strong one for her as she had been for me. I have to be the one who stays positive and focused on getting through this and everything being alright. We technically don’t have a diagnosis of cancer yet and that is a slim hope that I have to hang onto with all my might.

When I get home I find Linda in our bedroom lying on the bed. It is almost as if she is already defeated. The buoyancy and life are out of her. I can tell she’s been crying. She already looks half dead. I go to her and pull her into my arms. She starts sobbing anew. We sit there with me holding her for 15 minutes before the tears subside. Neither of us says a word for a while longer. Finally, she speaks first. A single word. “Why?”

I pause for a moment.  This is the same question that has been swirling through my head. There is nothing I can offer but the truth. “I don’t know dear. I don’t think there really is a true Why to this. We have to focus on beating this and not on what caused it.”

She murmurs her agreement, and starts sobbing again.

It breaks my heart to see her like this.  I want to make it better, to go back to how happy we were just this morning before this happened.

“We don’t know if it really is cancer, the doctor only thinks it might be. It could be benign.” I try to calm her.

“You know they wouldn’t send me to the oncologist unless they had a really strong suspicion, especially with my family history – my mom and my Aunt.” She fires back.

“When is your appointment with the oncologist?”

“Tomorrow at 10:00 I think.”

“I’m taking you. I’ll call Joe later and let him know I won’t be in tomorrow.”

“OK. Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me silly!  Where else would I be but with you? I LOVE YOU! You know that and know that I will do whatever I have to in order to take care of you.”

“I Love you too.” is her reply.

We just sit there in each other’s arms for an hour, not wanting to break the spell In my mind I am hoping that if we don’t move then this isn’t happening. Unfortunately it is.

What tense do you use most often???

I read an article in Writer's Digest (WD) online yesterday that got me thinking and wondering - what tense do you write in most often?  The article was written by Brian Klems who is one of the editors at WD.  He was listing the pros and cons of writing in present tense and it got me thinking.

I had read a few articles/blog posts from other editors and authors who almost universally suggested that present tense was the way to go.  It lends and immediacy and in your face quality to the story and keeps it lively, or so the arguments went. It made sense to me at the time and I bought it wholeheartedly.  I even went back and am editing my novel, A Quarter Ton to Kona, rewriting it in present tense.

Klems' article got me thinking, though. Was this the right thing to do?  I'm not sure at the moment.  I'm just over halfway through the novel with the edit and its coming along slowly.  I don't think there should be a hard and fast rule about this.  Mixed tenses are great as they allow the author to bring in past events and manipulate time lines. I even think about the classic stories and fairy tales that start 'Once upon a time...' and realize that past tense is very useful in story telling.

So, I'm curious, when you write, what tense do you use?  Do you stick with one or do you use mixed tenses as appropriate to tell the story?  I would love to hear what you think!

Keep on writing.

Novel Excerpt number 3

Here is another excerpt from my novel "A Quarter Ton to Kona":

A RIDE TO ENJOY RIDING

Since I had been diagnosed with prostate cancer I had not been back on the bike.  Not even for a short ride around the block.  Recognizing that I could be off the bike for a while, Saturday morning I decided it was time for a ride.  I didn’t have a plan for how far I might go, but I wanted to get out and enjoy it.  It was supposed to be hot, but my plan was to head out early and try to beat the heat.

I got up at 4:40 and got dressed for the ride.  The sun was due up about 5:25 and I hoped to see it rise while I was riding.

I grabbed some PowerAde along with a couple of Honey Stinger waffles for breakfast and headed into the garage.  I aired up the tires, put a stick of gum in my mouth, grabbed my helmet and gloves and was out the door before 5:00.  My destination was somewhere to the west.  I wasn’t sure how far I would make it since I haven’t been on the bike in a month but it didn’t really matter as long as I get to ride today.

There were just a couple of wisps of cloud in the sky, catching fire from the sun just below the horizon as I swung my leg over my steed and I headed off to the west.

I tried not to ride too fast but as I started going I just felt like I needed to push it.  It was if I was trying to run away from something and the harder I pushed myself the better I felt.  Shortly my breath was coming in ragged gasps, but I kept at it.  My world collapsed down and all I was aware of was my breathing and the turning of the cranks.  I felt the pain start in my legs, a burning ache that would normally make me back off, but today I needed to feel that burning.  I needed to push as hard as I had ever pushed. 

I passed Fort Apache Rd and Grand Canyon Drive and I kept pushing.  Ahead of me I saw the sun start to light the tops of the mountain peaks.  I pushed harder and the burning intensified.  My breathing was nothing but gasps for air, but I didn’t want to let up.  I made the slight turn along the kink in the road to the left and knew I was only a mile from the intersection of route 160.  I kept the hammer down, but knew I was running out of steam.  I down shifted a gear and then another as my legs were giving out.

I was to the traffic information sign, less than a half mile to go.  I dropped down to my middle ring and it was too easy, I was turning the cranks too fast, but that didn’t last long.  I was slowing as the turn approached.  I downshifted again and hit the slight downhill before the climb to the turn.

I was on my middle ring and upshifted a gear, then two to keep my momentum into the climb, but my legs were weak, I had nothing left and quickly had to down shift, one, two, 3 gears.  I was in my second to lowest gear ion the middle ring and barely able to keep moving forward but I was still moving.  I made it up the incline and around the turn. The road leveled out a bit here and I stopped for a moment to catch my breath and take a drink of PowerAde as the sun cleared the eastern horizon.

In that moment I simply enjoyed the breathtaking view as the sun light the landscape.  As the light flooded the valley I appreciated the subtle differences in color, the browns, tans and taupes all looked rosy in the light from the rising sun.  I knew it was a good day.  How could it not be?  I was here, enjoying the sunrise, having gotten here under my own power, riding my bike.

The moment was fleeting.  As the sun rose into the sky the temperature started to climb as well.  I felt the drain the exertion had put on my body.  I started riding again, heading slowly down the road for another mile or so before I recognized that I was in no real condition to go farther.  It had been stupid to push so hard so early in what I had hoped to be a long ride.  I was cooked.  I was done.  Fortunately it was downhill back to the house and I had to do little more than steer the bike as I was exhausted and barely hanging on.

I got to the house, put the bike in the garage and staggered into the house.  I collapsed into my chair.  It took a while to regain some strength but it had been worth it to be out there and see that sunrise this morning on the side of the road with no one else around.

I realized I had forgotten to stop my Garmin when I entered the house.  Fortunately I had it set to pause whenever I stopped moving.  I stopped it now and curiously put it into the cradle to download the file from my ride.  I had no real expectations for the number but was surprised when I looked on Strava. Seems I had set a personal record on the segment from Fort Apache to Route 159. Looking at the numbers I realized that I had done that section a full minute faster than I had done it before. I guess going all out on the bike does have its benefits.

After that I was tired and ended up nodding off for a couple of hours until Linda woke me to go get ready for some breakfast. It was a good morning.

IRONMAN WORLD CHAMPIONSHIPS

Here is another excerpt from my novel which is a work in progress.  This si a fictional race report from teh world championships....

I awoke at 4:15 AM when the alarm went off feeling pretty well rested and ready to go.  I was a bit excited but strangely calm at the same time. Today was the day I would become an Ironman. All I had been training for had been leading up to this one day.  I had practiced my pre-race rituals so that I performed them like I was on autopilot.  I ate got dressed used the restroom, drank and did some stretching to get loosened up.  Linda woke up and I helped her into the bathroom.  We agreed that there was no need for her to fight the crowds to get to the start and she would watch the coverage via TV and try to get close to the finish when she knew I was getting close.  Ellen and Tim from FitBit were going to help in that regard as well.

Once I was ready I gave Linda one last kiss and she wished me good luck.  I told her I loved her and was out the door heading down to the start area by 6:00.  I knew the first 2 waves of professionals and elites were going off at 6:30 and 6:35 and then it was the mass start at 7:00 for the rest of us.  As I headed towards the start the noise and enthusiasm started to infect me.  I was getting really excited andkeyed up.  I had to calm myself a few times to keep from getting too carried away.

I headed to the line of Port-a-potties for my PRP and hoped that it would be enough.  Just after I emerged the gun went off and the first wave of elites were away.  Five minutes later the second wave was off with the gun as well. My stomach was starting to have butterflies and with 10 minutes to the start as everyone was getting in the water I had to make a last dash to the port-a-potties.  I took care of business and entered the water just as they were counting down the last 30 seconds to the start.  Unfortunately this meant I was near the back of the group, not where I had hoped to be starting.  I would have to make the best of the situation and headed towards the outside of the course.  Just as I got into position the gun went off and it was a mass of flailing arms and kicking legs looking like a school of piranha at feeding time. The race had begun.

I stayed to the outside and started pacing myself for the distance.  I had swum much farther than this distance several times in the last few weeks so I knew I could do it, but I had to keep myself in check.  I wanted to go fast and get it done, but I knew if I pushed too hard I would pay for it on the bike and the run.  I was getting into a nice rhythm, catching the person’s draft in front of me when I got kicked in the face.  They knocked my goggles of and I had salt water in my eyes.  I stopped to wipe my eyes and put my goggles back on.  At the same time I assessed where I was and saw that I was heading too far out, away from the buoys.  I quickly got back to the task at hand.  I attacked a bit harder, looking for a draft, but leery of another kick to the face.

Fortunately I did find another swimmer going at the right pace.  I locked onto their feet and let them pull me around the course.  Before I knew it we were making the turn at the halfway point and heading back towards the beach.  I had found a strong swimmer who followed a good line and managed to steer us away from the other groups of swimmers.  I noticed that someone had latched onto my wake shortly after the turn and I pulled them into shore as the athlete in front of me was pulling me. Almost before I knew it we were back to shore and heading out of the water.  As usual when transitioning from the water to the land it took me a moment or to to get my legs back under me.  I always felt very heavy when I first came out of the water and it takes me several steps before I’m steady on my feet.  This was all the guy in front of me needed to pull away.  I had wanted to thank him for the pull but he was gone before I could.

As I ran into transition I mentally went through my checklist of what I needed to do In order to head out on the bike.  I had been practicing my transition to get it down to a science.  I had my cap and goggles in hand as I reached my rack and they quickly went into the 5 gallon bucket.  I then sat on the edge of the bucket, dried my feet and took the time to put on my socks and cycling shoes.

I was being fast but efficient in the transition.  I had a plan and I had to stick to it.  Included in the plan was making sure that I was hydrated and fueled for the entire race.  This meant I needed to take the extra seconds to eat and drink now while it was still early so I wouldn’t pay for it later.  I also put on my Garmin so I could track distance and splits. I added my hat, sunglasses and race belt and I was ready to go.  I grabbed my bike and headed towards the mount line and the exit of the transition area.

There were other athletes also heading towards the mount line pushing their bikes and it was a bit confusing right around the line.  I crossed the line and tried to do a running start to mount my bike as I watched others do.  Now its not a good idea to try too many new things on race day as there is usually some type of a learning curve.  This maneuver is one of those things.  Just as I planted my left foot to try and spring onto my bike, the cleat slipped and I ended up falling.  No harm except I was embarrassed and almost got run over by the guy behind me.  I quickly got back up, mounted from a standing start, clipped in and off I went, face red and heart beating too fast from the adrenaline of embarrassment.

Having pre-ridden the bike course earlier in the week I pretty much knew what to expect except the winds today weren’t as strong or gusty as they had been.  It was nice that I wasn’t having to fight to keep going straight.  I knew I would lose some positions as I climbed up to Hawi and the turn around point.  I was keeping within my limits as far as riding ability, going by feel more than anything.  I was also being faithful to my fueling and fluid plan as I had a reminder set to go off every half and hour for me to eat and drink and every time it went off I was eating and drinking.  Looking at my Garmin at the turnaround I noticed that I had been biking for 3 hours and 32 minutes.  Not a bad time for the halfway point of the bike.  If I could keep up the pace, then I would finish the bike right around 7 hours. Add that to my swim of just over an hour and I would have over 8 hours to finish the run.  I was feeling good.

AS I shifted into a higher gear for the descent down from Hawi I noticed that I was having trouble getting into my highest gear. Seems my spill at the beginning of the leg had done some damage and bent my derailleur in.  I played with the shifter a few times trying to get it to shift into my highest gear but it just wouldn’t go.  I knew I was losing time and ground by not having this gear so I made the decision to pull off and see if I could do anything with it.  I signaled I was stopping and pulled to the right.  I quickly stopped and dismounted.  I looked and didn’t see anything wrong so I just pulled on the derailleur to try and bring it out enough to shift, but I was being careful to not pull it too hard where I would be dropping the chain.  I jumped back on the bike and pedaled off hoping it had worked.

I shifted down and then back up and it finally did shift into the highest gear.  I got low on the bars into my most aero position and just pedaled trying to make up a little of the time I had lost.  Would it make much of a difference in my overall time?  Probably not, but it was more to keep my head in the game.  The committee was starting to warm up as I was starting to feel the effort on the bike and they were telling me to slow down, take it easy.  I had lots of time.  I just kept on it and even tried to pick up may cadence a bit.  Looking at my Garmin I was blasting along at 23.5 mph on the mostly flat course.  I knew this was good for a short bit, but was unsustainable in the long run.  After about 10 minutes I eased back to 22 mph and it almost felt like I was coasting.

I neared the 9^th of the 11 aid stations on the bike route and realized it was time to eat and drink.  The problem was I couldn’t face another Gu gel.  I had been having one every half and hour on the bike and the thought of another turned my stomach.  I decided it made sense to stop in the aid station and see what else that had.  Fortunately they had bananas and  Bonk breaker bars which I decided to try.  I only ate half of a banana and half of a bar and drank some water.  I also decided I should use the restroom.  It had been hours since the start and I did have to go.  Fortunately there was no line and I was in and out feeling greatly relieved.  The fact that I had to go I thought was a good sign that my hydration and fueling was working.

I got back on my bike and into the home stretch of the bike course.  Only 20 or so mile to go and then it was time for the run.  As I finished up the bike and entered Transition for the second time, I noticed on my Garmin that I had done the bike in 6 hours and 49 minutes.  That was a good time for me and left me lots of time for the run if I needed it.  My T2 transition went off with out a hitch and it was with a surge of energy that I ran out through the cheering crowds in town before heading out onto Ali’I drive.  My plan was to do a 5 minute run one minute walk pattern until I had to reduce to 3 to 1 and then to 1 to 1 if necessary.  My complete failure on the run back in Texas was haunting me as I went through the first couple of walk/run cycles.  I was now out of town and the crowds were pretty much gone.  The committee in my head started talking it up.

They were pretty quiet at first, but as I got out onto Ali’i drive and there were other athletes running by me every time I slowed to walk, they started trying to goad me on and to break from my plan.  I knew it was a good plan and that if I stuck to it I would be successful, but in the quiet of my mind, the committee started getting traction.  I started to doubt myself and started trying to push beyond the 5 to 1 run to walk ratio. I quickly got a hold of myself talked myself through the plan.  It was a solid plan. It would work, I just had to see it through.

To keep the committee quiet I started trying to think of other things than the task at hand.  I thought about Linda and how I was really doing this in support of her fight.  I thought about all of the good people who helped me to get to this moment and I was momentarily overcome be emotion.  I even stumbled in my running as the wave of gratitude and appreciation washed over me.  Those two thoughts helped to restore my resolve to see this through strong, to follow the plan and just get it done.

By this point I was already past mile 18 of the run.  It had worked.  I had pushed to and through the usual wall and now it was all downhill.  Just over 8 miles to go and I knew I could do it.  I still felt OK, but realized that I was on the verge of cramping. Thinking back I realized that I hadn’t had anything to eat or drink since I started the run.  I wasn’t following the whole plan.  Fortunately there was an aid station just ahead and I run to it and got my hands on another banana and 2 Gu.  I forced myself to eat it all and to wash it down with a glass of water and some chicken broth.

I walked out of the aid station with a banana and another cup of broth in my hand.  I slowly ate and drank this over the next mile and I started to feel better.  I was back to a point where running at least for short stretches, was again possible.  I passed mile 20 maintaining a 2 to 1 run to walk ratio and I actually started to feel better.  The nutrients and minerals were getting into my system and recharging me at least a bit.  I knew better than to push any harder, though.

At the aid station at mile 23 I again had some broth and a couple of Gu.  I had to force it down but I knew I needed it to finish strong. Then all I had was a 5k left to the finish line.  I was now reentering town and the crowds were still there and were still cheering just as loudly as before.  They helped to reenergize me as well and I actually picked up my pace.  I was determined to run the rest of the way to the finish, even if it was a slow jog.  I passed the marker for 26 miles and was in the finish stretch.  There, ahead was the finish line.  Just beyond I saw a sight that took my breath away.  Linda was there in a wheel chair with the folks from FitBit.  I ran for all I was worth to the line and into her arms.  I was just so over come with emotion as I crossed the line I heard the announcer say Anthony Franklin, you are an Ironman. 

Tears were streaming down my face as the emotions washed over me.  Linda was crying I was crying the FitBit folks were congratulating me.  It was amazing.  The tired ness I had felt just minutes before was gone.  We cleared out of the finish area and I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face.  Several of the news crews who had interviewed me the day before wanted to get a few words now as well.  At first I was reluctant, but then I realized I had to share this achievement with the world. I talked for a few minutes, about what I don’t remember.  I don’t even know if I was even coherent.  We then headed back to the hotel for Linda to rest and for me to eat and rest as well.

I had done it.

I am an IRONMAN.

EPIC FAIL

Since I had friends as well as family members who are dealing with diabetes it has become important to me to support the Diabetes Foundation.  One great way to do that is through their Tour De Cure cycling events.  I was looking at their website and saw that they had an event coming up next spring as I was planning out my events I wanted to ride in the next year.  It fit in nicely with the other events I wanted to do, so I decided it was one I was going to do.  They had 4 distances and although I haven’t been riding as much as I would like, I figured by the time the event rolled around I would be in shape to do the 30 mile distance. So I signed up and then completely failed to train for it as I should have.

Not only didn’t I train as much as I should have, I let my eating get out of control and ended up gaining weight going into the event. Not a lot, but I shouldn’t have gained any.  With those two strikes against me , the third strike was that I hadn’t ridden or even driven the course ahead of time so I really didn’t know what I was in for in terms of the difficulty of climbing the hills.

It didn’t help that the day turned out to be one of the warmest days so far this year.  It was my mind outpacing my fitness that got me into trouble.  I get these unrealistic expectations of what I can do while reading race and ride reports from much fitter riders.  In my mind I can struggle through a 100 mile ride with minimal climbing or I can suffer up a challenging hill with the rest of them.  Of course, until I get my weight under control and put in many more miles and hours on my bike, that isn’t really the case.  Its great to visualize where you wan to be, but you have to take reality into account as well.

The day started well.  I was chomping at the bit to get riding.  It drove me a little crazy that we weren’t starting our ride until 10:00 am.  This was so that more of the riders were finishing closer together and to help manage the finish area.  Unfortunately for me this meant waiting until the day warmed up.  A Lot!  Most of my rides happen in the nice early morning cool of the day, before sunrise, even.  Waiting to start until 10:00 meant that on average the temp would be 20 degrees warmer than I normally rode in.

I still figured this would be OK, I would just need to make sure and keep hydrated.  Little did I realize how much hydration that would mean.

I got to the M Resort, which was the Start/Finish line for the event about 8:30.  As I said I am terrible at waiting for things to start.  Normally I’m a fairly patient person, but when it comes to getting out and riding in events, I get nervous and anxious for the start.  There was no early packet pickup the day before the event, so once I got there I unloaded the bike in the parking garage and rode over to pick up my packet.

Check in was effortless and easy since I had met the fundraising goal ahead of time on line, it was a simple matter of signing the waiver and picking up my t-shirt and rider number.  Once I got them, I headed back to the van for any last minute adjustments and to get out of the sun.

I put the t-shirt in the van, pumped up the tires to the correct pressure and grabbed one of the powerades I had brought along.  This went into my bottle cage.  I opened the other one and took a nice long pull.  I figured I would need it.  I locked up the car and headed back over to the start area to check it out and make a trip to the Port-a-potty. Once I was done, I headed over to the bike mechanic area. 

Derrick from my LBS had told me when I picked up the bike earlier in the week that he was going to be there at the start to help with any mechanical issues.  I just wanted to say ‘Hi’ and to let him know that so far (after just a couple of rides) the new wheels were performing well.  My only issue to date had been a couple of pinch flats.

Derrick saw me rolling his way. “Those are some sexy wheels,” he said admiring his handiwork.

“Yes, they are and they are doing well.  My only issue is I think I need wider tires as I’ve had a couple of pinch flats.”

“No way.  Are you sure you had them pumped up to the right pressure?”

“Checked them before every ride,” I told a bit of a white lie. “I think its just a matter fo hitting some small rocks just the wrong way with all of the weight on here.”

“OK, but I’m not convinced,” he said.  Then another person needed his attention.

“Thanks again.  I’ll let you know how they do.”

“You do that and you might need to bring them back in after a couple of hundred miles to re-tighten the spokes, but I do put a pretty good preload on them so maybe not.”  With that he turned away to help someone else.

I realized that it was probably my own fault I ended up with the flats, but to be on the safe side, I would get the larger tires which seemed to be more forgiving of pressure variations.

Looking at my phone I still had over a half an hour until the start of our wave.  I rode back to the van and got another drink of the powerade, then made one more trip to relieve myself.  The nerves were starting to key up and I just wanted to get riding.

It was quickly approaching 10:00 and I needed to line up for the start.  I rolled across the parking area, marveling at how easily my bike rolled on the new wheels and Continental Gatorskins.  I had been leery of them after getting a couple of recent pinch flats, but felt confident that with the proper inflation all would be well.

They called everyone to the starting area and introduced several of the red riders and had them all move to the front to lead us out.  The red riders are all riders who have diabetes and are participating in the ride.  There were about 15 red riders in our wave.

The MC was really trying to get us pumped up with the yell of “Go Red Rider!” which we were supposed to say whenever we passed a red rider on the course.  They weren’t hard to identify with their red (obviously) jerseys. Little did I know at this point, but I would be seeing a lot of a certain red jersey for most of the ride.

It was finally time to do the final count down.  Five, Four, Three , Two , One… Go Red RIDERS! And we were off.

I was at my accustomed place near the rear of the field and was riding along with the group at a comfortable pace.  The first part of the ride was a gentle downhill followed by a slight uphill.  I was cruising along and came up to the back of what turned out to be the last red rider in our wave.  My thinking was he was going a bit slow, but I felt comfortable matching his pace so I started following him through the first few miles of the ride.  I hoped he didn’t think I was stalking him or anything, but I was letting him set my pace for me.  I knew that if left to my own devices I would be riding harder right now and I though that I would pay for it later if I was, so I stuck with him.

 At least until the first steeper downhill.  I noticed, looking ahead, that we would be going back uphill so I decided to let my bike roll.  I had the advantage of the much greater gravity assist, as it were, and actually got up to a fairly good clip.  Unfortunately it wasn’t enough to sustain me through the uphill and I was downshifting and ended up much slower heading towards the light.

I barely made the light and then was able to coast for a bit as there was another gentle downhill.  This was followed by a much steeper climb and there was no way I was riding up it.  I stuck it out as best I could but eventually I dismounted and walked up the hill.  There were several other riders also walking up the hill.  The walking wasn’t too bad, but it left me just as out of breath as riding did.  Add to that a tightening of the muscles of my lower back as I was pushing my bike and it was the start of my undoing.

I made it up the hill OK, having stopped a couple of times to try and stretch my back and catch my breath.  As I got to the top, The last red Rider caught up to me towards the top of the hill.

“Are you OK?” he asked.

“Yes,” I gasped.  “Just not used to such steep hills.”

“”We’re almost at the top.  You want to rest for a minute?”

“No I’m good, its my back that is giving me fits – its very tight,” I wheezed. With that I got on my bike and continued on along the flat and slight downhill to follow.  Then we came to the steepest hill of the day and there was no way I was riding up it.

I had gotten bit ahead of the red rider on the downhill and he quickly caught me on the climb.

“Go on ahead, I’ll get there,” I told him.

“No rider left behind,” he said back.

I stopped about halfway up the hill for a bit of a rest.

“You want to have a seat there?” he asked me indicating the curb ahead.

Knowing that if I sat down I would have trouble getting back up, I said “No, I just need to lean on my bike and try to stretch out my back.  I’ll be good to go in a minute.  By the way, my name’s Anthony.”

“Juan. “

“I didn’t realize these hills would be this steep.” I offered as way of explanation for my apparent unpreparedness for this ride. “I’ve been doing some climbing but much more gentle grades.”

“I never do a ride without previewing the course either on my bike or at least driving it in a car so I know what to expect,” Juan told me.

“I had looked at the elevation profile online, but it certainly didn’t look this steep.”  After a minute or two more, I said,” Let’s get going.”

Truth be told I could have used a few more minutes of rest.  It was very hot out there reaching 90 or so and I was sweating up a storm.  I had drunk half of the powerade I had with me and we weren’t a quarter of the way through the ride yet.

As we set off there was another short downhill and I let the bike run free, quickly breaking away from Juan and getting up to a quarter mile ahead of him.  Of course there was another bit of uphill and he quickly caught me as I once again dismounted and had to walk for a bit.

We rested at the top and I could tell he was wanting to get rolling, so we mounted after the briefest of rests.  It was just enough for me to drink almost all of my powerade and get rolling.  That was a mistake as we had another gentle incline and I started to get a hitch in my side.  It took me back to my grade school days and one particular day when I went home for lunch.

I had forgotten some homework at home.  This was in the era before cellphones and constant communication.  I didn’t need the homework until after lunchtime so I decided that I could make it home and back during the lunch period.  Now we actually lived just under a mile from the school.  I wasn’t any type of athlete but I figured I could try to make it by running both ways.  Sure I was a husky lad back then in the 5^th grade or so, but I wasn’t obese by any means.

As I ran along I started getting a cramp in my side, what we would call a stitch.  My best guess now was I was getting a cramp from drinking too much water.  If I slowed down and walked I was OK, but if I tried jogging the stitch came back.

I was experiencing the same thing on my bike.  If I started pedaling quickly on the uphill, my side started hurting and I knew that I had drunk too much too fast. The catch 22 was that if I got off and walked, it was my back that was hurting me.  Fortunately that uphill was relatively short and we were into a nice downhill, at the bottom of which was the aid station.

Again by virtue of the downhill and my rolling along so much faster under the gravity assist, I beat Juan into the aid station by a minute or two.  I dismounted and slowly walked my bike along, looking for refreshment as well as shade.  I was boiling in the sun.

I did grab a couple of small cups of water and a half of a banana, but not finding a convenient seat nor shade, I just got right back on my bike and pushed on.  In retrospect, that wasn’t a very smart move.

There was a bit of relatively flat road just out of the aid station, but it quickly rose again.  The lack of rest had me once again pushing up the hill even through it wasn’t as steep as some of the others.  I knew that this was to be the highest point of the ride so I was eager to push up it and head down.  I actually had to stop twice up the hill before making it to the top.  It became very apparent that I should have taken a much longer rest at the aid station.  I quickly drained half of my remaining  powerade and was getting quite warm.

I had been fighting with the committee in my head on every one of the hills.  They kept telling me that I was in no kind of shape to be doing this.  That I was too unprepared.  That I was holding others up and being selfish.  It was getting harder and harder to disagree with them.

Fortunately it was time for a fairly long downhill and I felt good on the way down, except I wasn’t really cooling off.  The heat was really starting to affect me.  Add to that the need to stop a few time on the way down due to stops signs and traffic lights and by the time we hit the bottom and made the turn to start climbing back towards the M, I was done. The committee had wore me down as much as the heat and hills had, if not more so.

I made it a few blocks into the climb but had to pull over and rest.  Juan was right there waiting with me as was the SAG vehicle.  One of the advantages of being the last riders on the course is that the SAG vehicle wasn’t far away.

“I’m done. I’m way too hot and I’m feeling just a bit faint.” I said as I got off and was determined to not go any farther.

“Why don’t you grab the rest of your hydration and have a seat in the air conditioning in the SAG wagon,” Juan suggested.  He really didn’t want me to quit.

“No, I’m done.  I know my body and there is no more left in the tank,” I replied. The committee had convinced me.

“Are you sure.  I have your bike, go sit in the A/C and see if it helps.”

At that point the driver of the SAG was there asking if we were OK.

“I’m done.  I’m too hot and don’t have anything left.”

“OK, come and get in the truck and relax,” the driver said as he grabbed my bike and put it into the back of the pickup.  It was a bit of a struggle getting up into the cab as it sat pretty high, but sitting in the A/C felt wonderful.

We sat there for a few minutes and Juan came back over and asked how I was.

“Better, but I’m done.  Thank you.”

“I’ll see you at the finish line,” he said and headed out on his bike.

Now I had thought that they were going to run me back to the M and then head back out onto the course, but that wasn’t the case. With me along for the ride we continued following the back of the pack of riders.

“Does it make you nervous when we follow you,” Ted, the driver, asked.

“No not really nervous, I just feel bad for holding everyone up being so slow.”

About that time Juan had pulled over for another as we had come upon a father and daughter who were on the side of the road.  It seems that he was suffering from the heat as well.  Their bikes went into the bed of the truck and they joined me in the back seat of the cab. No I was actually feeling much better and seeing that there was only a couple of miles to go back to the M was thinking that I should get out and ride it.

The committee quickly overrode that idea saying that I would look ridiculous if I made that decision and then didn’t make it.  Unfortunately I listened to them for the second time.

About this time 3 or 4 rider passed us which was a surprise as we had thought we were at the back of the field.  We surmised that they must have made a wrong turn, or had topped somewhere out of sight along the way and we passed them.  Ray got on the radio and asked if someone could sweep the course to make sure no one else was left behind.

We continued on behind the riders until the sweep vehicle caught up to us as we were nearing the M.  At this point Ted peeled off and headed towards the start area while the other vehicle brought up the rear of the field.

As we pulled into the start area, I jumped out and they handed down my bike.  I got on it and rode over to the tent area where I spotted Linda and her friend Kim.  They had come out to greet me on my completion of the ride and were going through all of the vendor tents.

I snuck up on her and surprised her being there so soon.

“Good Job honey,” she said.

“No, I didn’t make it the whole way.  I had to SAG out.  I was just too warm.” I told her.

“But you did the best you could.  How far did you go?”

“Just over half way.”

“I’m still proud of you,” She said.  I was full of mixed emotions.  I was mad at myself for giving in and for feeling the least bit of pride in the compliment she had given me.  I didn’t feel like I deserved any credit.  In my mind it was a n utter fail.  I had been so sure I could do this with no problem and then to not make it but half way – it was an Epic Fail.

What should I write about????

This is a question that has been worrying me for the last few weeks.  I thought I had it nailed down, until another thought struck me that just sounded so much better.  Right now my plan is to write on this new subject for my novel for NaNoWriMo.  the dilemma has me thinking though, what do author's do who produce multiple books per year, to get inspiration.

I would think they would try to stay on topics that interest them and about which they have some knowledge, but I'm finding, through research, that isn't necessarily the case.  I've read many tips and how to's that authors have put out that insist they start with a very vague notion of a topic or even just with a character and let the novel flow where it may from there.

Others have posted that they put together fairly detailed outlines and plots points and scene descriptions from which they build the story.  I guess what I'm really finding is there is no one right or wrong way to go about this creative process. Its a fairly organic and messy process, this creation and it often follows its own form regardless of how the author tries to shape it.

For this project I have a fairly loose plot with a few main points I want to introduce and make sure are included, but I'm not necessarily stuck on making sure any one point is included in the final story.  I'm going to put in what seems to fit and leave out the rest.  I know there will be many other things that will occur as the story is written that I can't even think of today.

My goal for the month is to create a first draft of what I hope to be an inspirational story with its roots in reality but still a fantasy.

NaNoWriMo 2013

Have you heard of NaNoWriMo????  No?  neither had I until about 10 months ago when I stumbled across it when looking at information about writing a novel.  I was looking for inspiration and found this site: http://nanowrimo.org/dashboard .  Here was an organization dedicated to helping individuals write a novel or novels.

Their main focus to an annual event called the National Novel Writing Month, which occurs each November and has as its goal the writing of a 50,000 word novel by the end of the month.  How cool!

Anyway I am going to participate in the event this year and I urge anyone else who ever thought about writing a novel to check it out as well.

The chore

"Man I just can't shake this feeling.  I need to do something, but I just don't know what."

"Was it work related?  Was it something for your family?  Does it have to do with your trip?" Mani asked, trying to be helpful.

"I just don't know," was John's muttered reply as he lost himself in thought once more.

He knew there was something he had to do, something he had to create and it felt very important. No time to worry about it though, the truck had arrived and it was time to work.

As they opened the rear doors to start unloading the trailer, there was a thunderous crash as the rear most crate came crashing to the ground.  It was followed by the tinkling of broken glass from inside the crate.

"aww Shit!  Why the hell didn't they stack it right?" roared Mani.

"'who knows.  I'm just glad it didn't hit me!  Hey Dumbshit, who loaded this trailer?"

"Your mama!" yelled George in his pathetic attempt at humor.  No real answer was forthcoming and it really didn't matter.  They would have to clean up the mess created by someone else as usual and face the bosses' wrath for the broken equipment.

"...do it?" asked Mani.  John had missed it lost in his own thoughts.

"Do you think they will do it?" he asked again noticing John hadn't been paying attention.

"Do what?"

"Announce who gets promoted to the next level today," was Mani's exasperated reply.  He sometimes wondered why he tried at all.  Most conversations with John were predominately one sided on his part.

The promotion.  John had successfully blocked it from his mind for the last few minutes, but now it was back.  The idea that he could, somehow move up to the next level filled his every waking moment since it had been announced last week.  His longing to move up, to improve his life was almost too much.  He wanted it so bad it hurt.

Before the announcement he never even dreamed that something like this was possible.  He had been happy with his station.  Now, it wasn't enough.  He had to have more.  More power. More privilege. More money. More of everything.

As they removed and stacked the last box from the truck, Mr. James pulled up in his jeep and was yelling at them before he even got out.

“Why isn’t that put away yet?  I don’t pay you to stand around looking pretty, I pay you to work.  Get those boxes stowed in the locker and get this mess cleaned up.  Who broke this one?  Do you have any idea how much that is worth?  That is a years’ wage smashed on the ground…”

Mr. James went on and on, but having heard it all before, John once again tuned out everything but his own thoughts on the promotion as he went about his work, moving and stacking the crates.

He fantasized how he would buy his new bride everything her heart desired.  New furniture, new clothes, flowers everyday.  He would spend his free time hunting the biggest game and bring her the finest skins.  He could see himself stalking his prey and driving home his blade.

Wait, something had changed.

John came back to the present and noticed everyone had stopped what they were doing and were staring at him.  Looking down he realized he had acted out his fantasy of hunting.  At his feet lay Mr, James with a knife in his throat.

At that moment his life changed.  All hope of advancement was gone.  All he could do was to run. So run he did.

He ran out of the compound and into the wilderness. He could hear the guards raising the alarm, but he was intent on nothing but escape.  He was just about to make the jump into the river when the bullet found him.  I pierced his back, dead center and smashed through his spine, exiting from his breast in a spray of blood.

He crashed to the ground. Aware of the commotion as the guards ran over to him, but unable to move as his lifeblood poured from his chest and soaked into the ground.

His last fleeting thought was regret that he would never see his wife again.

First contest entry...

OK, I have to admit I'm just a little disappointed that I wasn't chosen as a finalist in the Clarity of Night writing contest I recently entered. It was my first ever attempt at writing fiction for others to judge. I took the approach that I wanted to write it my way and not read any of the other finalists or winners from other contests, before I submitted my entry. I wanted to see what I could do with out that influence. In hindsight if it was all about winning the contest I realize this was a definite tactical error. In terms of learning and growing as a writer, I felt this was the right approach and I still stand by it.

Here for your entertainment and in hopes of soliciting additional feedback via comments, is my entry for the contest:



Ultimate Power
By Daniel Weise

“Where are they?” Joel hissed into her ear.

“Not here.” Mya responded.

“I need them. Now. I can’t control it without them.”

He released his grip on her tunic and she fell to the deck. She knew she had to see this through. Her tribe was counting on her to stop him.

“I know where they are, but you can’t get them. No one can.” She lied. It was a desperate move, but she was sure he hadn’t seen.

“You’re lying.”

The boat shuddered and groaned under the weight of another wave. The intensity of the storm was increasing.

She chose when to make her move very carefully. She had underestimated the fury of the storm without the dampening effects of the crystals, however.

As he drew back to hit her again, the boat was lifted and dropped onto the reef.

The hull shattered and bodies were broken and battered as they were thrown on the rocks and tossed by the waves.

She had done it. He was no longer going to enslave her people. She enjoyed a brief moment of freedom before she crashed down on the rocks and felt her spine snap just before oblivion took her.

The storm whipped waves ground everything into a pulp on the jagged rocks.

When the storm eventually relented, the only remnant of their existence was the 3 faceted crystals glinting among the debris, waiting for the next unsuspecting traveler to find them and become corrupted by their power.