Talking Feet??

I'm intrigued with the idea of talking feet. Barefoot runners are often advised to "listen" to our feet, because they can teach us to run with better form.

Even though I'm almost 56 years old, I think my feet are still teenagers. They have a very limited vocabulary. They just don't like to get into meaningful discussions with me. If they aren't ignoring me outright, my feet mostly just mutter and grumble. I can put up with that for a pretty long time.

Its those occasional blood curdling screams that really get to me. Almost give me heart attacks! I have to stop and comfort them for a while, telling them "That's okay, that's okay, you'll be fine. There's nothing to be afraid of." They usually sob and shudder for a few minutes but then settle down. At those times, you'd think they were still little babies! That's also when they start to whine and pester me. "Are we there yet?" "Soon." "Are we there yet?" "No!" "Are we there yet?" "Shut up! I'll tell you when!"

I hate it when they talk back and argue with me. Hey! I'm the boss -- you'll do what I tell you and you'll appreciate it! Problem is, they usually end up getting their way no matter what I say, impertinent things! But I feel I have to at least try, for principle's sake.

But when they argue with each other? Don't get me started on this! Its incessant -- "I'm first!" "No, I'm first!" "No - I'M FIRST!!" It just goes on and on and on. I swear - they can argue 180 beats a minute sometimes.

Sometimes we get along pretty well! What's really nice is when they laugh or even sing. That really makes me smile. Its a little embarrassing around other runners, though. Me, grinning like a Cheshire, my bare feet pouncing along briskly. I suspect those other runners can feel the good vibes because some of them smile back.

So, some words of advice. Listen to your feet. Its uncanny how much they really know. Why, you might just learn something from them!

Ryan

Goodbye, Doran

My oldest brother, Doran, passed away on September 26th in Denver, Colorado.

He logged more than 65,000 miles bike riding, 22,000 of those were climbing mountains. He biked up Pike's Peak several times, border to border across Ohio and Kansas. He biked the Rocky Mountains in Montana. He biked up Sandia Peak in Albuquerque.

On June 15th he was out for an early morning bike ride before work in Denver, Colorado. At about 5:30 a.m. he was almost all the way across an intersection when a pickup truck broadsided him, throwing him almost 100 feet. He was conscious when paramedics attended to him, giving them the phone number of his wife so they could contact her. But on the way to the hospital his internal injuries bled out so much his brain was oxygen starved and he never regained consciousness.

After 3 months of hoping and praying for a miraculous recovery, his wife and we all knew that this was the best he was going to recover, so the decision was made to pull the plug. He died just four days later, on September 26th.

His funeral was last week in Denver. We estimate that over 500 people attended it. He was a very loved and respected church and community leader where he lived!

He was a steady, shining example of plain old goodness, humor, generosity, love, and support. He will be sorely missed.

Ryan