Terrible Analogies

The process for obtaining a permit to hike Mt. Whitney is a bit convoluted, and relies on punctual form submission, proper request format, pre-payment, and pure dumb luck to come out a winner.  The US Forest Service limits the amount of people allowed on the mountain each day, and because the demand for permits is extremely high a lottery system was introduced to be as fair as possible to all applicants.  The lottery drawing begins on February 17th, with the winners and losers notified via mail in April.

As luck would have it, this past Friday I received an envelope in the mail containing one of these:

Awww Yeah!  I actually won a spot on the mountain.  Looks like my training won’t be in vain.  I’ll see you up at 14,500ft in September!  The plan is to run up and down Mt. Whitney Trail (22 miles) in under 8 hours.  As you can see I have an extra spot open on my reservation.  Want to come along?

UPDATE 9/9/09: I’ve successfully completed my Mt. Whitney run.  See this post for details and photos!

Somehow, through the course of normal conversation at work, it slipped out that I was training to run up Mt. Whitney in September.  Now, there’s no guarantee that I’ll be given the opportunity to do this because the results of the yearly lottery haven’t been announced yet, but I’m going to assume that I’ve secured a spot on the mountain this year.  Anyway, the admission that I was planning on running the tallest mountain in the continental United States drew a reaction of disbelief and mocking distain.  I was accosted with questions such as “Why would you do that?”, “You’re how old?”, and “When was the last time you trained at altitude?”.

It really gets me when somebody can’t quite figure out what drives a person to do something out of the ordinary, when they can’t be bothered to understand their motivation for doing such a thing, and instead of trying to connect on the most superficial of levels they turn their back and make snide comments.  It’s during moments like this, when people who you get along with in a professional sense suddenly turn on you like an abused animal, that I sometimes feel like an alien.

But hey, that’s okay.  The way I see it is that when people are shown their limitations they tend to disavow and cast aside such ideas as absurd and unthinkable.  It’s a defensive mechanism.

To let you in on a little secret, I’ve always been a fit individual.  I’m a life-long runner and a weight lifter.  I like to physically push myself, see how my body reacts, and to discover how much pain I can endure.  When I was a kid instead of toys I got running shoes and paid admittance to local 10K’s.  Instead of partying in high school I went out for track.  When I got my ass handed to me in a fight a few years ago I started lifting weights, knowing that next time I’ll be prepared to defend myself, and I wouldn’t hold back.  The last time a jerk called me out, he did so at a stop light.  Ya see, this particular idiot cut my wife off, then flipped us the bird and motioned with his hand, daring me to come get him.  When I got out of my car to oblige (under the objections of the wife) and crossed two lanes of traffic to find out what his problem was I could literally see his face turn white and the panic of prey set in his eyes.  Like a switch flipped on, I could see the instant this guy knew he was in over his head.  I have to admit, that’s a feeling no drug could recreate, knowing that I absolutely owned this guy.  That I had him trembling, praying to God that I wouldn’t knock his teeth out.  But, being the guy that I am, I simply had a few choice words for Mr. Tough Guy, embarrassing him in front of what I’m guessing was his kid.  I’m not a naturally violent person, but the fear in his eyes….man, that was an amazing rush.

Anyway, when people question in a derisive tone why I lift or run, I don’t take it personally, but I do purposely internalize their words and use them as fuel when I’m working out.  The way I see it, somebody has to tame the mountain and desert trails.  Might as well be me.

I was ready to wrap it up for the day.  It was near midnight, Karin and I had just finished watching Delecatesin on DVD, and I had to get up early for work the next day.  I promised Karin that I’d be following her upstairs as soon as I “quickly straightened up the living room”, which in reality is code for “I’ll be upstairs after I channel surf for a few”, and she knows it.  

There I was, alone and…well, alone.  The wife had gone upstairs leaving me to my own devices. With thumb pressed firmly on the “up” button of the remote I scrolled through a myriad of infomercials, syndicated reruns, and strongman competitions, but paused when I saw something…unusual.  At first I was unsure what I was watching.  Was the twitching kid on stage writhing in pain or in the throes of religious rapturous fervor?  Bewildered, I continued to watch for several minutes before I finally became convinced that what I was viewing wasn’t an alcoholic deep in the throws of a D.T. induced seizure, but rather a competitor in what was the 2007 Duncan Yo-Yo championship.

Fascinated and unable to turn away, from 11pm to midnight I was glued to the television watching these kids bounce, juggle, and twist their yo-yos through gyrations and practiced programs that at times blurred the vision of even the most eagle-eyed observer.  At first I was confused, then amused, then I found myself cheering for some of these competitors as they leapt and convulsed their way through undulating, dexterous, whirlwind routines.

I’m the kind of guy who enjoys going to track and field meets and local power-lifting competitions.  I hunt down and attend the small but important discus meets (my personal favorite spectator sport because you can get up and close to the competitors, and for the fact that my dad taught me how to throw).  I enjoy lifting weights and participating in road races.  Given all of this, even I could respect the skill of these competitors as they ran through complex and delicate yo-yo routines.  Under the pressure of the lights, cameras, and a live audience these guys show what a little dedication and a metric ton of practice can produce.  For such a niche scene these kids really shine, and for that a bow down to them.