Racing Sick

I ran the tradewind triathlon over on the marine base this morning- I had signed up a month or so ago- if I hadn't already paid there was no way I'd be racing with this airplane funk/gunk that i've got right now. But when the alarm went off at 5:15 I laid there thinking about it and what a waste it'd be to not race cause I was feeling a little below the weather, and hey, maybe I could sweat it out and have a good race anyway.

The 500M swim went fine, 9:30 or so. Last year the bike was super windy, this year not so much. Around the start of the second lap I burped a couple of times and tasted acid. I knew I was not in top form as I was getting passed as much as I was passing others- not something I've grown accustomed to. I was having a hard time taking a full breath, if I did I felt closer to gastric expulsion with every breath... I finished the ~11 mile bike in 34 minutes... a lot slower on the second lap than the first. In T2 I really hit the wall and felt like crap as soon as I got off the bike. I jog/walked most of the first mile, tried to kick it up a bit around the first mile marker, threw up a bit, jog/walked a bit more, and somewhere around the 2 mile marker settled into an easy 8:45 pace or so and jogged it in home. I didn't even want to sprint into the finish knowing that 1) i could lose my cookies right in front of everybody-which I did at the Haleiwa race but finished under an hour, so then it was totally worth it, and 2) I would feel like a jerk sprinting ahead of someone who's working hard after I was plodding through three 11 minute miles, trying not to throw up or pass out.

So, it was pretty frustrating to get beat by a ton of people who know me and I usually can stay ahead of, but that's racing I guess. I showed up and raced and only threw up once, and I got my T-shirt. Now, more dayquil, a haircut and maybe some yard work.

Update: results here. Had I been in form I'd think I'd have gotten on the podium easy. Also, no yard work was accomplished.

awesome.

Pumpkin Carving night at the Laurions. To me, nothing says Halloween like an intricately carved portrait of our 40th President.


Yeah, I need help. My wife thinks I'm a dork, my sister in law doesn't get it, my kids don't care, most of the internet will think I'm a wacko redneck gun nut.

But I'll bet anyone my Dad and Brother in Law laugh out loud when they sees it. So Ronnie the Pumpkin is for them.

Fathers and sons and going to sleep

August 08: Three of the four generations of Laurion Boys; Great Grandpa Clem, top left, My Pop, top right, and my whacko boys, front

Last night, my Grandfather, 84, went to sleep in his bed in his house in Lansing, Michigan. It's the same house my dad grew up in, the house Grampa bought to raise his 5 sons and a daughter.

Last night, my Dad, 54, went to sleep in his office. He's a financial planner, and the last three weeks has seen a third of his clients' net worth evaporate. They're ringing him off the hook and his endless optimism and charm are being put to the test. I spoke to him at 9:30 p.m. his time, told him about the fishing trip I was going on today.

Last night, my sons, 2 and 5, went to sleep in my bed, as they have tended to do for the last few months. We move them to their beds later, but they seem to zonk out quick in our bed, so we don't mind.

Another night.

Grandpa didn't wake up, he had a major stroke. From what the doctors say, he is gone. He's breathing a bit, but they took him off the tubes and don't expect him to last much longer.

So, at 84 Years old, Clement Laurion passes away. Here's what I know of him- he served in the Navy in WWII, was stationed on a little island in the south pacific and got so tanned that his own brother didn't recognize him when he landed his plane there. Grampa (against regulations) flew with his brother on a mission or two, not seeing much action but was thrilled nonetheless. He came down with scarlet fever at some point which cost him his hair- he was bald in pretty much every picture I've seen of him. He married his sweetie, an opinionated woman named Sally Hughes, settled in Lansing, set up shop as an insurance agent and started producing male offspring at a good baby-boomer clip- 5 in 10 years or so, followed by one girl to round it off. He taught his sons to play baseball and played with them in the back yard. They had a treehouse in one of the trees- they thought he was enormous because he could reach right into it and get 'em. He was 5'10" or so. He taught his boys to fish, they went on vacations to varied bodies of water. All the kids were athletes, many successful at the state level. His first three sons joined the Military after high school. He was protestant, but Sally was Catholic, or maybe I got that flipped. Either way, they always went to different churches on Sundays. He and his wife slept in separate rooms- but not for religious reasons- Grandpa snored incredibly loud. House-shakingly loud. I was his first Grandchild, in 1979.

I tend to examine my own psyche and divide most of my traits into four separate bins labeled Clem, Sally, Wally and Donna, my four genetic grandparents, of which Clem is the first to pass on. In the Clem bin, I find most of the things I like about myself. Optimism, salesmanship, and humor.

I never heard grandpa say a negative word, never heard him angry. He laughed at every dumb grandkid joke, made cracks about my stupid mid-90's grunge-inspired earring... he had a great sense of humor. He was an insurance salesman, and a good one. Insurance agents were men to be trusted then, the guardian angel who swoops in when most needed and whips out the checkbook and makes things OK, or at least helps... this is who he aspired to be. Maybe Clem is where I get my hero complex evidenced in my movies that make me cry post.

So grandpa Clem is gone. "Grampa some-hair-no-hair-some-hair" (describing his 'do) as my sister and I called him to delineate from our other, fully haired grandpa. I wish I knew more about him, but that sounds cliche... I know that I am proud to be his grandson, that he raised his sons in a way in which I'd love to raise mine. I know that when I go, I'd love to be remembered as well as he will be.

And now, I proudly present, the multi-generational series of Laurions making funny faces at the camera:

Great Grampa:

GrandpaYours Truly

Rachie
NicholasAnd Sam, wailing on his air guitar.