The Origin of The Beast

             All characters have an origin story.  I am a character I suppose but not any sort of hero let’s get that clear to start.  However, once I began my new running life I felt like a new person so it was like having a split personality at times.  Within a few weeks of running on a consistent basis I was feeling more confident in myself as the shackles of my own self-doubt began to slide off of me.  This was a feeling that was foreign to me.  I was used to being very self-conscious.  I was used to not having much to say when it came to myself because there was never anything to talk about.

            Within a few weeks of running though I began to see and feel a difference and wanted to share this with people.  I had already begun to let people know that if I could start a running program than anyone could.  It’s amazing how when you try and succeed at something you had felt was impossible nothing seems to be off limits.  I had worked out consistently for almost 15 years and looked relatively similar to how I did at the beginning.  I had been essentially the same exact person inside for that long as well.  The only thing I hadn’t tried was running.  It made me wish I had done it sooner but I believe I wasn’t ready for that change of lifestyle.

            So here I was only a few weeks into running and loving it.  It was warm enough that I could venture outside and run in the spring sun.  I would run from my gym down to the beaches and feel the stereotypical ‘runners high’ that was indescribable.  I finally went to Hanlon’s Shoes in Hyannis and got fitted for proper running shoes, which made a world of difference.  I went with Brooks Adrenaline for beginning runners, I didn’t need anything specific yet.  

            Running made me feel like a totally new person, made me feel powerful, accomplished.  It was never my intention to come up with a running nickname or alter ego.  Up until that day I was just a guy that had discovered running and was enjoying the experience more each day.  You never know when that moment is going to happen though and it did on what seemed to be another average run on a sunny spring afternoon.

            After my Nana had died at the end of 2009 her house where she had lived for more than forty years had to be sold.  I had spent countless thousands of hours and days growing up in that house.  It was a sad night when the family gathered there for one last hurrah before it was to become someone else’s property.  Once it was a done deal I rarely if ever went through the old Boxberry Lane neighborhood.  It was too painful to see that house knowing that I could not go inside.

            On this day I decided to run from the gym down Nana’s old neighborhood, only a four-mile total run but hey I was still only a month into running period so distance was not a goal.  I made the approach down Boxberry Lane thinking it would be neat to run by Nana’s old house.  What I saw however changed that.  There was Nana’s house but it was different, changed.  Gone was her huge rosebush next to the dirt driveway which had bloomed beautifully every year and housed countless numbers of birds as they hid from various prowling cats.  Gone was the living room window which faced the road next to where my Nana would sit in her chair and watch TV.  In its place was a huge bay window that looked like some sort of plastic surgery gone wrong. 

It felt like someone had gone in and surgical changed part of me and my childhood.  I felt anger at what I could not stop and could not change.  I stood before the ‘new and improved’ house and gritted my teeth and shook my head.  I did not want to look upon that monstrosity anymore.  I let the anger boil over.  Finally I let out a growl and took off like a shot away from the spot that had brought me so much happiness as a child.  I ran so fast out of there, ran like a beast to escape what I had seen. 

It wasn’t until days later, after I had run possibly the fastest couple of miles back to the gym, and after I had taken time to think about how that run by my Nana’s old house had made me feel that I knew that I had stumbled upon a nickname.  The Beast summed up the person that running had made me.  I felt powerful, in command of myself, better than I had ever felt in my life.  It was my alter-ego.  From that day forward I looked forward to my runs as a way to step into Beast Mode and feel that energy, that power.  I sound like I am writing a comic book, but a good origin story never hurts.  It beats saying I picked a name at random out of a hat or something like that.  I ran like a beast, felt powerful like a beast, and got angry like a beast when I saw what had happened to my Nana’s house.  It all made sense.

The Beast became a bigger part of who I was as time passed.  The self-confidence I got from running began spilling over into other parts of my life.  What was once an alter-ego eventually became a whole new way of life, living with confidence was a change that I was embracing fully. 

In the end my Beast nickname, alter-ego, and lifestyle came from sadness and anger.  I missed my Nana and hated seeing that part of my childhood and my life was forever changed.  The Beast was my way of dealing with it.  So I have her to thank for a lot of the good that has come from my running.  To this day before every race I run and say a prayer to my Nana, she is still as big a part of my life now as she ever was.
Do any of you have running 'alter-egos' or is this purely something I have?

Beast Mode

The First Real Mile

            I believe that anyone can learn just about anything.  The real key is the willingness to open yourself up and listen.  That takes a good teacher.  A good teacher will make learning seem fun and less like work.  A good teacher does not just tell you how to do something, they show you, they lead by example.

            What does all this mean?  I had been told of the virtues of running and the good it could do for me physically and mentally for a few years but it never made it palatable to me.  My own stubbornness and fear of possible injury outweighed any of the purported benefits.  A few people tried but I did not listen.  I am not saying that these people were not good teachers, maybe my mind was not ready to be opened.  What I am saying is that it took a new voice to tie it all together, not surprisingly that voice came from a teacher.  A real teacher, not a metaphorical one.

            Some people are born runners, most are not.  Most people are simple average folks looking to get in shape, or get in better shape.  Emily was not born a runner, she made herself into one.  She chose to change her own lifestyle and became the best possible version of herself.  I had known her only in passing at the gym for a few years, despite the fact that we had grown up in the same neighborhood.  Until I actually talked to her I had always assumed that she was one of the lucky ones who had been born a runner.  This was not the case.  When I found out about all of the hard work she had been putting in for years to get where she was it made me rethink my own limitations.

            When you see living proof of what running can do, or any change of lifestyle, in front of your eyes it suddenly seems less daunting.  Nearly a year ago she and I began to talk, really talk, and I felt something.  I felt my mind opening, I felt a willingness to at the very least give the running life another try.

            Of course I was naturally wary of all of the previous problems I had running, pulled and sore muscles and such.  That experience was like a chain holding me back.  I still did not fully believe in myself.  Emily said that all I could do was try, I would never know unless I tried.  I decided on a compromise.  I told her I would run one mile on a treadmill at a slow pace.  If I survived it with no problems I would go from there.

            I faced my fears and doubts and set the pace at a robust 10:00 per mile and set out on a slow jog that ended up becoming the most important run I have ever or will ever make.  This was the first real mile, the mile that made me see that if done properly I could run just like any other runner.  Of course in time and with hard work and repetition my times and distances would get better but none of that mattered on that day.

            I had definitely broken a sweat even after one slow mile.  Still, I was running in over-sized old sneakers, over-sized clothes, and was not looking professional in my form or stride.  I believe Emily said I was too stiff looking, I guess like a zombie running.  I had yet to learn about leaning slightly forward as you run, I had yet to learn about getting fitted for sneakers, but none of that mattered on that day.

            I’m sure that to the other runners on the treadmills surrounding me I looked like I was giving up early.  All I could do when I ended my run was turn back to where Emily was running and smile and nod.  I had run my first real mile, and I knew there would be more.  I was very happy and could not wait to go a little further the next time.

This time I would be smart and wade slowly out rather than dive blindly into the deep end.  The joy and benefits of running would start to come to me more in the coming weeks.  A lot of people had told me of these things but I needed a different voice for them to make sense.  I needed a good teacher to believe in me and push me through that first mile.

In The Beginning - 2007

I remember never believing that I could be a runner.  For many years I had pain and tendonitis in my left knee which I figured was always going to keep such a path from me.  The repeated striking of my feet on the pavement or treadmill would surely do more damage to my already roughed up knees and make life in my 30’s, 40’s, and beyond difficult.

My Uncle Steve had become a runner in his 50’s, and he had always said if he could do it then I had no excuses since I was more than 20 years younger.  About 5 years ago I decided to give it a whirl.  He had just run his first Boston Marathon and I was inspired to at least attempt to run rather than simply saying I could not.

This is where my total lack of experience came into play.  I set myself up for a run at the Cape Cod Rail Trail.  I was going to go from the beginning in Dennis and see what happened.  What happened was a total disaster.  I did NOT make some sort of heroic first attempt where I knew that running was to be a way of life, oh no.  Let’s see, first off I did NOT get properly fitted for shoes.  In my mind I was always a size 10 ½, don’t ask me why.  This was not the case, I am in reality a 9 ½.  So right off my shoes were too big.

Next up, I did NOT stretch in any way shape or form.  It was like turning on your car and immediately jamming it in drive and putting the pedal to the floor.  Sure, in some cases that will be fine.  In most cases you end up doing damage to your vehicle, and in my case, my body.  I did NOT begin with a very short controlled run to gauge my stride.  What I DID do was run 5 miles on the bike path that day.

Yeah, 5 miles, sounds good, until I also admit that I pulled virtually every muscle in both legs because of what I did NOT do.  It wasn’t too long until my running speed vanished and I was hobbling defeated back to the parking lot.  For some reason I was surprised that my untrained legs couldn’t just transform into marathon runner’s legs in a snap.  Silly me.

My legs sore and in pain I was not going to give up that easily.  Oh no, I decided that I needed to further injure myself before really calling it quits.  How did I accomplish this?  Going to the gym the very next day, barely able to walk, and doing some leg work to try to ‘work through the pain.’

No more than five minutes into my workout it was over.  I lay down on a squat machine figuring I could use little weight and push through the soreness.  The workout went like this: I lay on that machine with maybe 40 lbs. of weight, I began with my legs bent into my chest.  I made one push to straighten my legs out and felt a sharp burning pain in my right quadriceps.  I am no doctor but that screamed ‘muscle tear.’  So I gingerly rolled myself off of the machine, gave the area a rub with an angry frown, and hobbled back to the locker room.

With that little extra stupidity I decided that running was not only not an option, but way too painful for me to bother with.  It took me six weeks before I could walk without pain, and I had the luxury of having to work full-time and be on my feet eight hours a day.  I would spend the next four years using the elliptical machine, stationary bike, and stair stepper.  The treadmill and running in general would not appear again on my radar until I met someone that helped me see the light.

Luke's Birthday - A Legendary Day

December 1, 2011 - The Birth of Lucas Christopher           

      There are days in your life that will remain in your mind forever.  Those are the kinds of days where you can recall every single detail years later like it was happening again.  This kind of day happened for me yesterday with the birth of my nephew Lucas Christopher.  It was a legendary day from beginning to end with lots of twists and turns like a good movie.  So get your popcorn ready as I regale you with the tale of Luke’s Birthday.

            With my sister Lindsay already in the hospital the night before I knew it could be any moment.  I began the day by dipping into a 5-Hour Energy which got my mind set for a long and exciting day.  I wanted to get to the hospital as early as possible just in case.  There was literally no parking which was great, I figured if I was circling the parking lot while my nephew was being born I would probably burn something down.  I got there at 10:30am to find my sister asleep so I went and sat in the maternity waiting room.  That seemed uneventful but would come into play later on.

            In the room there was nothing going on, Lindsay was relaxing and her fiancée Chris was doing the same.  We passed the time talking about wrestling and performing a bit of the classic Shake Weight South Park episode.  Hey, even the nurse said it was good to use humor to keep my sister’s mind off of the huge baby boy waiting to arrive.  I stayed for almost three hours before realizing that nothing was going to happen until later.  So I went off to continue the day.

            Like déjà vu I went for some Chinese food for lunch.  No worries, since I planned on running later to burn that healthy stuff off.  Chinese is a vice I will never be able to give up no matter how healthy I become.  I had a scheduled write up interview at Common Ground, a local coffee shop at 3pm.  It became clear to me that I would never be able to focus on that so I had to reschedule which made me feel unprofessional, but some things are a little more important.

            One such thing was bringing a set of Allen wrenches to my friend Dorothy.  I wasn’t sure of the size she needed so I was gonna bring my smallest one.  Too bad that once I got close to her work in Hyannis I realized that I forgot it.  Now, I could have gone back home and got it, but I figured it was easier to just go buy a set of the wrenches, never know when you’ll need ‘em, right?

            It’s always fun hanging with Dorothy, we like to talk about a lot of stuff that most people would frown upon, you know, like murders and cemeteries?  Hey don’t judge!  We hung out and chatted, I decided I might like to buy a ukulele since I recently sold my guitar.  Good times.  Then came the final step, running the treadmill at the gym until I got the word.

            I sent Lindsay a text seeing what was up, she said she was 8cm dilated and that it might still be a while.  My mother called me as I ran and was adamant that 8cm meant that labor was imminent.  Knowing that I jumped off the treadmill and grabbed a towel to go shower and rush to the hospital.  Things were going smoothly until I had to get dressed.  That was when I realized that I had forgotten a fresh set of boxers.  Yeah, I could have put the sweaty ones back on, but I decided to go commando, flying free in the breeze! 

            Once I got back to the hospital it was a party scene, I was one of many in Lindsay’s room.  Besides myself, Lindsay, and Chris there was Lindsay’s fraternal twin, Ashley, their friends Alicia and Crystal, Lindsay and Ashley’s father Paul, sister Michelle, and her daughter Karissa who I hadn’t seen in ages.  We knew that it was only a matter of minutes until the delivery so there was time to say goodbyes and good lucks and take a few photos before we all got whisked out and back down to the maternity waiting room.

            I was first in there and staked my claim to the same seat I had taken during the morning.  It was there that I found my sunglasses.  Yeah, I didn’t forget them at home.  They had dropped out of my pocket and had sat there for the taking for 7 hours.  $250 sunglasses untouched, I guess the most trustworthy people are nurses and expectant mothers.

            Being all excited about what was happening a few doors down we all were pretty loud and a bit rowdy.  It was a mini reunion for us so it was all fun.  After rushing from the gym, and downing my 2^nd 5-Hour Energy, I was pretty hungry but obviously did not want to even go down to the cafeteria and risk missing the magic moment.  The solution?  Check out the patient fridge.

            Of course lookouts had to be set up in case someone was coming.  I found some good eats in there, ice cream, yogurt, graham crackers, milk.  There were microwave pizzas but I thought the smell would be hard to cover up.  So I began with some ice cream.  As I ate it Alicia came rushing in yelling that she had heard a baby cry.  We all got up and rushed to the door; I tossed my ice cream in the trash before leaving. 

            Sadly, it was not the right baby crying so we all headed back to the waiting room.  I was so hungry that I grabbed that ice cream back out of the trash and continued to eat it.  Hey, I got a new spoon so it wasn’t as bad, right?  We put on The Simpsons, I sat under the TV to see how long it would take me to guess the episode just by the dialogue.  It took about 2 minutes.

            After that false alarm we all began creeping our way down to the door and listening for any sounds.  When a nurse would come outside we would all back off expecting to get tossed back into the waiting room.  It came down to my step-sister Michelle and I deciding that we deserved to be the first to hear little Luke’s first sounds so we stayed pretty close to the door while the others came and went.

            We tried our best to be quiet but some people did not think to put their phones on vibrate, so there would be a loud ring with someone running down the hall to avoid being caught.  Next door another newborn baby, the one that caused the false alarm, kept crying.  It became almost impossible to hear inside Lindsay’s room.

            Then this tall bird-looking woman forced us back to the waiting room.  I raided the fridge more before using my phone as a sort of mirror to check the hallway for the bird lady’s presence.  Not seeing her I ventured back down.  I mean, really, what was she gonna do throw me out?  I found a backup plan with an opened room diagonally across from Lindsay’s room.  It was here that I hid if I sensed any ‘danger.’  My head popping out from the doorway got everyone laughing.

            Things got more serious and we knew the time was coming.  Lindsay’s twin sister Ashley seemed to be feeling her pain as she pushed, it was something that had to be seen.  We were like a football team in the huddle, all hunched over with our hands on our knees.  It was not looking good as trying to push out a nearly ten pound baby can’t be easy, as a guy I can only speculate.  When Michelle and her Dad decided to go have a quick smoke outside, down four floors, I had the feeling that this would be the time that Luke would show up.  I was right.

            Michelle’s Dad Paul made it back but she did not.  Luke was pushed out by Lindsay at 8:31pm and weighed 9lbs. 10oz.  One hell of a big boy!  We all hugged and felt a huge relief that Lindsay did not need to get the dreaded C-Section to get Luke out.  Now, despite the hard part being over we still were ushered away from the door and told to go back to the waiting room.  It was once the delivery was over that the phone calls and text messages began flying out.  I called my mother to tell her the great news and would send a few photos to my friend Emily once I got inside.

            I tried to get a view every time the door opened, even coughing loudly so Lindsay could hear, but we just had to wait.  It was worth it though.  I was close to the door when Chris popped out, he waved me in and I was first to see little Luke.  Yes, I can always lay claim to that.

            I had heard the doctor saying his arm was getting tired holding Luke.  I thought he was just messing around.  Then when I got the chance to hold him I found out that it was no joke.  My arm was tired and that boy was big!  I thought it was going to be a quick pass-around of Luke but with everyone else busy talking to Lindsay or each other I was able to spend a good few minutes just staring at the new life and newest member of our family.  It was a moment I didn’t want to end, but there were so many other people that deserved a chance to share the same feeling I had.

            The funny thing was after all of the waiting and anticipation it was not very long after we got to see Luke that we all decided to leave the parents alone with their baby.  Plus, we all were so worn out from the enormity of the day.  I remember walking out of the hospital through the side lobby since the main lobby was closed and trying to take stock of what had just happened.  It was impossible, so all I could do was smile and feel blessed that I had been there to witness Luke’s first moments on earth.  That seemed to sum it all up for me.  Welcome to the family Luke!

           

55 - 10/5/2011 - In My Footsteps Trip

Initial Impressions

Christopher Setterlund

55 – In My Footsteps Trip

October 5, 2011

     Finally made a trip to York and Kittery, Maine.  I had wanted to do it for months.  A total of 330 miles driven today, most miles on a day trip yet.  Actually found gas for $3.26 in NH, haven’t seen it that cheap in forever, and also, it’s not really that cheap, jerks.

     It was sort of a sun sandwich on the way up to Maine.  Cloudy on the Cape until I got over the bridge, sunny all the way up but then cloudy right when I got into Maine.  Luckily that all burned off, temporarily at least.

     The first spot I visited was the Stolen Menu Café in York.  Needless to say I asked for menus rather than steal them, but I did end up with way too many pastries for my own good which is why I needed to share them with others.

     What do you call a redneck from Maine?  Whatever it is there was a jackass flannel-wearing douche who nearly killed me at a rotary so I yelled and called him a redneck, whatever, hope he flipped his truck and his shirt burned up.

     My main target on this day was Cape Neddick Lighthouse, aka Nubble Lighthouse.  It sits on a little rocky island just offshore, it looks further away in photos than it is.  I packed my own lunch thanks to Maui’s brilliant idea at work yesterday and was able to sit and stare at the lighthouse, eat, and listen to WEEI, almost perfect.

     I saw the first of a million monarch butterflies at Nubble Light, I saw tons at Fort Foster in Kittery right after in rained, spent some time chasing them trying to get photos, bet I looked ‘special’ doing that.

I was able to easily maneuver around the rock outcroppings on the edge of the shore at Nubble, the same can’t be said for a man and his girlfriend.  He climbed down a rock and then basically arm dragged her off the rock.  Needless to say she went down and yelled at him, she wasn’t hurt so I laughed once I got far enough away.

     Long Sands Beach is classic Maine.  The rocky shore acts as a sort of funnel for the waves and at low tide the beach goes out a ways making it literally ‘long sands’ like the name, how ironic. 

I love going to take photos of historic homes that are occupied.  I visited one and there’s a guy getting groceries out of his car.  I pull up jump out and snap a few photos and speed off, yeah not too suspicious looking!  Or even better is standing in the middle of the road to get the whole building in the shot, sorry, beeping your horn only makes me have to shoot the photo again fools.

     Of course then it began to rain off and on.  The skies stayed blue though which made it really cool looking.  It also set up a great shot later on in the trip.

     I had to visit the Kittery Premium Outlets for fun.  Unbelievable how many stores they have, went into the UnderArmour outlet.  A cop then pulls up leaves his lights flashing and goes in to check out shirts.  Yeah, left his K-9 unit, lights flashing, for a shirt?  He probably got it free too.

     There are two incredible forts in Kittery.  The first is Fort McClary which was crazy because it was open.  I mean the buildings were open and you could go inside, I was all over that going way up inside the white Block House to get shots of the harbor, and Portsmouth and Whaleback Lighthouses. 

     The second one is Fort Foster which became my second favorite spot of the day.  The fort itself was nothing out of the ordinary but my time there was unreal.  First off it started raining, hard.  Plus the gates were closed so driving to the fort was a no go.  I had to get on my hooded jacket and walk in the pouring rain while others fled.  The thing was the sky was blue so I knew that a rainbow was coming and that the rain wouldn’t last.  I was right on both.

     Once near the shore I could see Whaleback Light closeup as well as a house out on the rocks.  I walked all the way out on a long pier getting soaked but then the rain stopped and as I turned around there was the rainbow.  For a short time there was a second rainbow as well.  It was well worth being soaked to get to see something rare like that.  It was after this rain that the butterflies came out and were everywhere.

It was also this time where I noticed a high school cross country team jogging all around the fort.  I just happened to mention I just ran a half marathon, I quickly became part of the gang once I whacked a random stranger, hey initiation rules need to be followed.

     Being super intelligent like I am I decided not to listen to my evil gps and ended up adding an hour to my trip home.  First I decided to be an idiot and check my phone while driving and ended up heading north on I-95 rather than south.  The gps flipped out and was ordering me to make U-Turns all over the highway.  I had to pay a toll to get off which sucked.  Then I thought that the gps was wrong about the exit to take off of I-95 heading toward Boston so I made my own choice and added more time to my trip.  I swear it wouldn’t be normal for that gps not to try to kill me at least once during a trip.

 Photos of the Day:

Long Sands Beach

Cape Neddick 'Nubble' Lighthouse

Block House at Fort McClary

Whaleback Lighthouse(left) at Fort Foster