I Told You So

I woke up this morning a few minutes early and on a whim decided to head downstairs and check to see what olympic coverage was coming across from China. Never has the television coverage in Doha been so frustrating as it has been since the opening ceremony in Beijing 3 days ago. Although there are 5 channels in our satellite lineup that are 'showing' olympic events, 4 of them are broadcast in Arabic, and ALL of them seems determined to show ANYTHING but American performances, even interrupting the Finals of the 400IM (Phelps' first gold medal / WR event) to show us a meaningless first round boxing match because it featured an Armenian fighter. So imagine my surprise when I flipped to the 3rd option this morning - Saudi Sports 1 to find swimmers in the pool... it took a few seconds to realize that this was the 4x100 Freestyle Relay Men's Final, 2nd leg finishing and the USA was dead even with France and Australia for the lead a full body length in front of the WR tracking 'green line'. This was forecasted to be the event that would make or break Phelps' attempt at 8 gold medals, one of 3 events in which Phelps' destiny will be decided by more than his own accomplishments.

The Arab broadcaster and I apparently agree that the subsequent 2 minutes of television is surely one of the most exciting sporting events of all time... I feel no guilt in ruining the surprise for anyone who hasn't already visited a site on the web, turned on the TV, or talked to another person - because no text can properly capture this moment. My hope is that my post will ensure you see the race for yourself. Critical analysis of HOW Lezak managed to draft along the laneline and make up a full body length in the final 15 meters cannot replace the emotional rollercoaster that had a nation standing in its living room pumping its fist (even if that nation sees the event tape delayed 14 hours later). I acknowledge that my attachment to swimming, especially the 4x100 relay is tied to my own experiences (substitute high school regional meet with the Olympics!), but even the layman can 'feel' the utter brilliance of this single event. A comeback and dynasty reclaimed rolled into one experience. The collective performance of 8 men showcased swimming's ability, even if only for a few moments every 4 years, to entertain the world.

If I don't see another minute of olympic coverage; if Phelps does or doesn't win 8 golds; if the Dream Team finally returns Gold to US Basketball - I am confident I will have seen the most exhilirating moment of the 2008 games (or any games for that matter). The fact that it came at the expense of a highly talented, highly favored, 'big talking' French team is just the custard in the eclair.

In other news, Qatar has publicly expressed interest in hosting the 2020 games!

Two 'I Told You So's in one day... and it's not even noon!

Shattered Dreams

As the Beijing Olympics fast approach, those watching from Qatar will have a difficult time reconciling these 2008 festivities with the Olympic committees disappointing decision earlier this year to exclude Qatar from the final 4 cities vying for the 2016 games. The local journalism helps put the shear scope of the devastation in perspective (I have a sneaking suspicion that the photograph of ladies crying has NOTHING to do with Olympics).

http://www.gulf-times.com/site/topics/article.asp?cu_no=2&item_no=222672&version=1&template_id=57&parent_id=56

There's been plenty of 'talk' that the Olympic committee is biased against Arab countries, but while there are probably several reasons that Qatar was overlooked (heat, tourism, infrastructure, perceived terrorist threat, event attendance) the one that resonates with me is historical Olympic participation. Bringing the Olympics to Qatar would be like bringing the World Series to New Zealand - there's no connection. It might be a nice place (debatable in August), willing to pay for new facilities and infrastructure (if they complete)... but what emotional connection does Qatar have with the Olympics. Shouldn't a host country boast a resume with more than 2 Olympic medals?

There's actually a small Olympic store in one of the big malls here, and if the maroon and gold colored albatross-like mascot hanging in the window is any indication of the plans submitted to the Olympic committee, I can't say I'm sorry to see the likes of Rio and Tokyo battle for 2016 (although Chicago probably has the edge since Rio is dangerous and Asian/Europe are hosts in 2008 and 2012).

Luckily for family and friends the Olympic store refuses to offer a discounted price on the albatross stuffed animals, even 2 months after learning they missed their chance. Maybe they are waiting to see what becomes of the 2020 bid.

Back in Safe Hands

I love hockey.

Lying on my parents' couch recovering from the flu & a fever I nervously listened to the 1997 Stanley Cup Playoffs... rooting on the team I adopted as my own well before the Coyotes came to Phoenix (pause to mention my parents are both from Michigan and I cheered for the Wings long before they were putting together winning seasons - so save all your bandwagon comments). Listening to the final game on an AM radio gave that night a nostalgic feel... once I moved to college, cable TV thankfully allowed me to watch my team play through the greatest Playoffs in Pro sports; twice more hoisting the cup as I followed along at home.

6 years after their last championship I would have easily paid $100 for an AM radio with the broadcast - as you can imagine Hockey isn't a big ratings boost in the Middle East, compounded by the our losing ESPN three months ago (I didn't realize how important SportsCenter had become in my life). Instead I sat in front of a work computer monitor, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes and holding my breath for each 30-second score update. Sure - the outcome was satisfying, but the experience was terribly diluted. Most people buy the championship commemorative DVDs to look back at the defining moments in a series. I'm buying the DVD to salvage the Stanley Cup experience.

Now comes the painful few months between the Stanley Cup presentation and College Football kickoff - hopefully Rugby Union or International Darts League can bridge the gap better than the NBA Finals and Baseball do back home. Offense completely intended.

For more info on what makes Lord Stanley's Cup the best trophy in all sports: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stanley_Cup

One Year Wiser

Time flies when you're having... fun?

We survived our first trip around the sun on the 'other' side of the globe, and somewhere along the way Doha became home. To the discerning blog reader (fyi- if you're reading our blog you qualify as 'discerning'), our recent Post drought indicates that a year after our arrival we've run out of unique experiences to share. It's not that life has gotten boring, but rather we have built up an immunity to the experiences that define our lives in Qatar. Think: hopping in a cold pool on a warm day, which seems to be the only thing that shocks us these days!

That's not to devalue the experiences we've had thus far - the lessons we've learned along the way. As the day-to-day activities blend one week into the next, it's easy to forget that nearly each day includes some morsel of cultural significance unavailable within the sheltered neighborhoods of our youth.

Thanks to all of you who continue to support us through phone calls, emails, comments, and prayers. We see tremendous opportunity in Doha for the years ahead, a base of operations from which we intend to continue meeting new countries, stretching our comfort levels, challenging our perspectives, and as always - reporting back on our adventures.

“The World is a book, and those who do not travel read only a page.” - Saint Augustine

4:39

Difficulty (n): the quality or state of being hard to deal with, manage, or overcome

Everyone knows that marathons are 'difficult'. After finishing our first (and only) marathon last week, we have a myriad of OTHER vocabulary words to describe the experience.

Exhaustion
Our Wednesday morning flight to Jordan took to the air 13 hours after touching down Tuesday night Westbound from the Maldives. We then sat through a 3 hour car ride from Amman to Petra (see earlier post on the significance of Petra)... enjoyed our fourth Chicken and Rice meal in 28 hours and collapsed at our quaint village inspired hotel high in the moutains of Southern Jordan. After receiving an unexpectedly early wake up call (airplane AND internet were wrong: Jordan is NOT one hour behind Qatar), we rushed out of the hotel and were rambling our way on horseback towards the entrance to Petra's famous Siq (pathway into the mountain). A three hour private walking tour of some incredible sights was followed by another 3 hour car ride back to Amman. Mt. Nebo and Madaba will have to wait for our next trip... we cancelled our other tourist activities to conserve whatever energy we had left.

Nerves
I'm not sure what made us more nervous: meeting several die-hard marathoners at the Carb-Loading party the night before the race (shaved heads, track suits); being directed to the wrong tour bus at 4am and not realizing it until the tour guide started asking 'wer die Außenseiter sind' (where are the stowaways in German); leaving all of our bags & belongings with those same Germans (most of whom were friendly) in hopes that we could find that bus again at the Dead Sea; or getting to the start line 30mins before the race to discover they didn't have any bathrooms (fyi... the cramped 3 stall men's bathroom at the check-in was the #1 worst smell I've EVER experienced, accompanied by the #3 and #4 worst sounds I've EVER heard - good way to loosen up before the big race).

Excitement
After finding a 'private' area near the start line, a few feet away from the other runners relieving themselves, we followed the 70 other marathon participants to the makeshift start line and after a hushed moment of anticipation headed up our first hill. The website for the marathon describes the first 12km as 'slightly up and down hill', as we crested the first hill and put the first of 42km behind us the road tilted sharply down and for atleast 14km we felt like running down a bobsled run. The twists and turns kept us guessing and the views were spectacular, like the drive down from the mountains outside San Diego. Each time we checked our splits we were gaining on our personal best and felt like we had finally arrived at the climax of our training. We crossed the half marathon marker at 2:01, 12 minutes faster than we had in training and felt empowered. The road had leveled off completely, the mountains fell back in the distance and the sun rose high in the morning sky to illuminate straight desert asphalt ahead. We were too overwhelmed with the joy and anticipation of beating our goal time of 4:30 to notice the damage done to our bodies or the significant change in temperature.

Doubt
With little to look at besides dirt and the endless blacktop in front of us, the aches and pains crept into our forethought, and around 16km to go we decided to walk and catch our breath - after all we were now 20 mins ahead of our goal pace, a little walk could help us loosen up those tight calves and might help control the pain developing in Sheri's knee. Unfortunately, the moment we downshifted to a strong walk we were blindsided... like no physical barrier we had ever experienced. The walk felt more painful than the run had, so we tried to get back to a steady jog and recover our pace but our legs weren't responding. We were 10 miles from the finish and were no longer worried about time, we actually doubted whether we could finish the race.

Frustration
The kilometer markers which had appeared to fly by only a few minutes ago were now spaced ages apart, making the 2km water stations 20 minutes apart instead of 10. An intense frustration began to well up... how could we have trained so dilligently and have stumbled so far from the finish? We didn't care what was to blame, the only thing on our mind was a growing concern that we may not finish our only Marathon... we weren't only thinking about it, we actually started TALKING about it. The marathon had crippled our bodies and had sent us spiraling into a state of delierium, unable to focus, able only to process three things: Pain, Heat, and Distance to Finish, and the sum of those variables produced a frightening forecast.

Anger
Humbled by nature, we had a sudden boost of energy when the road took a sharp turn left - only to discover that the last marker we passed was 11km NOT 10km as we 'remembered' (further evidence that we were losing grip), and our pace was continuing to slow - unable to jog for more than 500m at a time, and fully aware of how long it would take to finish the next 10km if we didn't try. We pushed onward. Fortunately the field had spaced out, and as we discovered later most other bodies were experiencing the same shut down all along the course... we took note of each person we passed, encouraging them onward - while many of those passing us did the same. In that spirit of commradery most shared between Sheri and I, we put one foot in front of the other and in unison continued our brief jogs until there were 4km to go... the 2nd to last water station. Except, the 2nd to last water station was EMPTY, ransacked by kids about to start their fun run... it had been 20 mins since our last bottle of water and we had atleast 15 more to go before the next. Unable to resist the knawing doubt in our minds we broke down, and were it not for a passing ambulance crew who offered us their water bottles we would not have finished the marathon. I'll pause now briefly in lieu of writing the real words that express our complete and utter disappointment in the organizing committee for letting one of the most critical water stations run dry.

Accomplishment
Two long hills and then the finish line... which we didn't recognize until 200m out. A line that two hours ago we estimated was only an hour and a half away. A line that symbolized so much as we approached our legs finally responded and with a rush of adrenaline we crossed the line in a pace that rivaled that of the downhill sections so many hours before... 4 hours 39 minutes, despite all that had gone wrong - a success. In the rush of events that followed we nearly fell down on several occasions, ate a red apple, drank 3 bottles of water (they managed to have some water at the FINISH) and met several runners in the recovery tent, trading stories and exchanging congratulations. As we sat in the tent hearing veteran runners complain of the same ailments that had struck us - too fast a pace, too steep of a descent, no water at the 4km station - it occurred to us that in that moment we had joined a small group of people (less than 200) who had traveled from around the world to conquer the Dead Sea Marathon and Ultramarathon, and we agreed to NEVER do something that stupid ever again.

The most authentic human experiences use the entire pallet of emotion to produce an unforgettable journey.

A Successful Weekend

Bear Down Wildcats... after our talented basketball program continued its self destruction in the NCAA tournament, the men's and women's swim programs turned UofA frowns upside down, both capturing national titles (note that many UofA fans may not even be aware of this accomplishment - all the more reason to blog it up)... the first titles for either group and the first titles for acclaimed coach Frank Busch who had the foresight to kindly decline my offer to join the team in late 2000.




http://www.thenewstribune.com/sports/story/321824.html
http://uanews.org/node/19051

I realize that swimming doesn't get much air time on ESPN or Fox Sports, but the onset of the Olympics in a few months will bring my favorite sport into the spotlight once again. Say what you might (Russ - think about Track before making any sly comments), but anyone whose been around a swim TEAM knows that while the majority of attention falls on the individual athletes (like golf or tennis), there is an underlying team mentality that shines through the relays and total team/country point battles... where a gutsy performance by a 3rd or 4th string Freestyler, even by a tenth of a second can separate gold from bronze.

In preparation for 'Swimming Appreciation' month (aka every fourth August), set your DVR to record some of the Olympics Team Trials where 4 years of hard work culminates in selecting the 3 fastest representatives for each event... June 29 - July 6 in Omaha, Nebraska (coolest thing to come out of Omaha since the Stanfields). For beginniners, try to catch the relays or shorter events which will be more frantic and exciting.

The Wildcats weren't the only team to celebrate success this past weekend, the Phillips finally crested the 18 mile mark on our morning runs, although after 3:15 it was nearly lunch by the time we finished! We will now taper in preparation for the marathon in two weeks - made easier by a vacation in the Maldives early next week. We're VERY anxious to get the marathon done and over, while taking a great opportunity to sightsee in the promised land (aka Jordan / Dead Sea). Note: we do not plan on running any more marathons (although we hear that's what everyone says before their first).

We had to run our 18 mile 'trainer a day later than expected (Saturday) because on Thursday night we were enjoying a nice evening with 300+ of my coworkers at our annual work formal, where after 3 or 4 names were drawn without their owner present (LOVE that rule), our Venture manager picked my name out of the hat to go home with the door prize, which at the Doha A&M Boot Scoot is actually a huge wooden door (Aggies?!), but at this event turned out to be a 52" Samsung LCD Flat Panel TV (1080p)... unbelievable, but true. Just need Qatar to get some HD cable service before the olympics!

Nothing stays new forever

Oscar award winners, Glen Hansard & Marketa Irglova, performed the song 'Falling Slowly' from their independent film 'Once' in front of a packed house of celebs - televised halfway 'round the world (the Oscars were televised in Doha on 2 day tape delay). The song itself was played beautifully, filled with raw emotion that was a welcome break from the costume infused productions for the 3 songs nominated in Disney's 'Enchanted' (3 songs from one movie, come on?). Many thanks to the academy for recognizing a talented Indie-duo outside the stereotypical categories of documentary / short film.

I realized early into the song that Glen has played guitar for a long time... not because he used complex chords or had a confident stage presence. Instead, a good portion of his guitar had been worn away, presumably by years of strumming. Some things are meant to be used. I can still hear my mom reminding me - 'You can't take it with you' whenever I would cautiously avoid wearing my new high tops or gold 49ers jacket, fearful of them losing their newness. Dents, scars, and dirt are signs of life, badges of experience, however painful they may be at first. Few people intentionally ding their doors, scrape their shoes, or drop their iPods, but at some point between the 4th and 17th scratch your mindset changes from maintaining the newness to celebrating the worn remains of a life well lived. In that moment of transitional thought the blemishes which make things less valuable to others make them more valuable to us. This concept passionately manifests itself in the human experience - in the relationships we share with our close friends, loving family, and benevolent Creator, whom treasure us despite our faults.

Top 3 things that I now value more for their imperfections:
1. Three year old Rainbow leather flip flops (worried a tear in the thong may continue spreading)
2. Four year old 'The Shanty' tee shirt (imported of course - thankfully navy doesn't show sweat stains)
3. Thirteen year old leather bound NIV Student Bible with the tattered Easter Bookmark it came with (and a seven year old rose petal of personal significance tucked into 1Corinthians)

Note: my six year old Washburn has some light scratches on the strum guard and a minor chip near the 3rd fret... probably why I haven't won an Oscar yet.

So what items do you cling to beyond their retirement age?