What The Heck Happened in 2016

“You are never too old to set another goal or to dream a new dream.” – CS Lewis


Family ride at Folsom Lake

Back in January I panicked. I’d wake up, drive the morning carpool to school and then maybe go for a run or ride. Then I’d sit around and waste too much time doing nothing. I was bored. Dylan was back in school and Nicole was busy preparing for her spring season. I’d wait for the weekends when we could hit the trails or Dylan and I could take our bikes down to Folsom Lake. Gone were the days of interacting with customers or digging through code while stressing over some obscure problem. I missed having something to build. I longed for a problem to solve. There are only so many days I can attempt to clean out the garage and the lawns didn’t need mowing every day.

Writing gives me an opportunity to be honest with myself as well as reflect, determine what worked, and what needs to change. I’m often slow to change. Once I set my mind on something, I can be tenacious and then my attitude is “Full Steam Ahead!” However, making that initial decision can often prove elusive to me. I’ll second guess, waver, doubt and spend too much time worrying about making the wrong choice. I didn’t write at all in 2016 and now that I’ve waited there’s too much to say.

I thought our time in Spain last year would give me time to plan and decide what I would do. But we were so busy enjoying the country that I never had the time to fully consider what I should do next. Part of the problem was too many choices. Checking out career sites provided too many choices. And when there were too many choices, I found myself in analysis paralysis. Should I do something not related to technology? Or should I try something with hardware or mobile? Maybe we should move and experience a new city? I would then start clicking through houses on Zillow and another day would be gone…

So in January I realized I needed some goals in order to move forward. I kept things simple and identified 3 new career goals:

  1. The technology needed to be web/cloud based software or at least transitioning to that model.
  2. The type of business had to be something new for me. Something different than medical/pharmacy software so I would have to learn a new type of business.
  3. I wanted to contribute to a team environment and be sitting amongst the team a couple days a week with the ability to work from home. The office had to be close enough so I could commute on my bike.

That was it. I didn’t really have a dollar amount and was excited to see if something was out there that would be a good fit.

Because it had been nearly 20 years since I’d been on the other side of the interview table, I needed some practice. I’d been in plenty of interviews over the years, but always on the interviewer side. Having a compelling story and being able to weave my job experience into a tale that could be translated into any business needed practice. I enjoy the writing process but don’t revel in talking about myself. So I started posting and sending out my resume. Almost immediately, I received a call from a consulting company that had a client that wanted to bring me in for an interview. I spent about 20 minutes talking with the recruiter. He told me the company was Election System & Software (ES&S) and it would be a good technology fit. Though it would be a step down from what I was making before, he was one of the only recruiters that left me with a positive impression. So we scheduled an interview “so I could practice” before other opportunities surfaced.

The day of the interview, I had lunch with Kayden Kelly and his developers at Blast and we talked about their products and their vision. I then had about an hour until my interview so I reviewed my notes on the company at a coffee shop around the corner from the ES&S offices. I packed up my notes and headed down the street so I would be a few minutes early to the interview. Except as I looked at the building numbers, there was no 299 Douglas Blvd. I circled back and thought I must have missed it. Nope, 10 minutes driving around and there was no 299 Douglas Blvd. Now I started to panic. Only 10 minutes to go and I can’t even find the building, let alone parking. I called the recruiter to confirm the address. I had written down 299 instead of 2999. I was on the wrong side of the city and 20 minutes away from an interview that was starting in 10 minutes. Well, there goes this interview.

I placed a quick call explaining my mistake and letting them know I’d be about 10 minutes late. Luckily they sounded understanding but I knew I had already lost the job.

Eventually I arrived and walked into a conference room 10 minutes late. Between 8 and 10 other men, mostly my age and older, sitting around a table had been waiting for me. The sheer number caught me by surprise as I was expecting maybe 1 to 3 people during the interview. I did my best to apologize and then spent the next 75 minutes sharing my story and listening to theirs. My story is relatively simple yet nearly impossible to fully describe. Driving home, I couldn’t help but compare my meeting earlier in the day with the younger, ambitious developers at Blast to the large group of more seasoned developers in the interview. I had no job offers, but two roads seem to be approaching in front of me: familiar or unfamiliar. As is too often the case, I drifteded towards the familiar even though I had every opportunity to use this time to embrace the unknown.

It wasn’t long before my phone rang and I had an offer to work on voter registration software during an election year. Rightfully so, Nicole couldn’t believe I would even entertain the offer as I had intended this exercise to be just for practice. I went back to my checklist and with the offer I realized I could check 2 of the 3 items: new type of business and team environment and I could bike commute on some days. We went back and forth on my hourly rate. It was all happening too fast. I needed to sleep on it. I went back and forth some more and reasoned that this would be a good fit for a few months. Contracting would provide flexibility and not commit me to anything permanent. So I waited a couple more days to be sure, then decided to enter the world of contracting.

Why? Why would I do this?

There is high demand for software developers. If you watch your pennies, coding can provide a good living. To be sitting around when so many opportunities exist is hard to justify. Early in the year I had lunch with our financial advisor and his son. His son had recently graduated from college and was looking for ways to get his foot into the technology sector. He asked about my experience and if I could recommend any advice. If he was serious, my advice was to consider a coding school/boot camp. Invest a few months of your life learning, because some of these schools already have companies looking to hire graduates. At this point, acquiring experience is the most important step. Most companies value experience over education so keep your expectations realistic: intern, tester, anything to get a foot in the door. Spend a couple years problem solving, creating and building. Save as much as you can and then reevaluate in a few years. You will have gained skills you can use for the rest of your life. After a few years, you may decide to do something entirely different, but the money you make and invest in those earlier years can open up tons of possibilities down the road. Developers, they are the gold miners, the prospectors of our era.

The stock market had been kind to us the last few years. We’d been making more on our investments each year than I could earn working. We have no debt. Why subject myself to the grind? It goes back to my checklist: the desire to contribute, to learn, to build and create.

Before I knew it, I had a little cubicle in the corner of a big office building. The adjustment going into an office 5 days a week wasn’t easy. The first adjustment was when they issued me a laptop. The handed me a 5 pound laptop complete with a DVD drive and every imaginable port and connection. They handed me a monster. Actually, the handed me a dinosaur. The behemoth “laptop” was so big, I could not squeeze it into my backpack. So commuting to work on my bike was going to be a challenge if I needed to tow my work home. I settled in and did my best to help. It’s difficult coming into a situation with tight deadlines because there’s so much product knowledge you need to gather but you don’t want to steal valuable time away from the existing developers.


Corner office

A few weeks after starting, I was sitting in a morning meeting and received a frantic call from Nicole as she was driving to the emergency room in Roseville. Dylan had crashed on his bike and it looked like his arm might be broken. I was only 15 minutes away from the hospital, so I quickly headed over and met them in ER. Walking into a hospital in search of a loved one is never a good feeling. We spent the next 5 hours in the ER, active spectators to Dylan having his arm reset. The pain of helplessly watching your child look at you with tears and pain in their eyes and knowing more pain is right around the corner, left me sick to my stomach. Not fun times but fortunately the bone lined up nicely after the reset and no was surgery required.


Preparing to set the bone

That was in February so the rest of ski/snowboarding season was shot. Baseball season was next. Dylan tried to play Little League with a cast, but the first half of the season was limited to swinging with just his right hand. The team ended the season with a few strong wins and we lost in the playoffs, one win away from playing in the championship game. Swim team also started before the bone was fully healed and Dylan had to deal with the frustration of swimming one armed for a bit. Needless to say, there were some tears when all you want to do is run but the only thing your body can handle is walking. Time passed, and by the middle of May his bone was strong enough for his doctor to give him the green light.

Nicole’s schedule also turned busy as winter gave way to spring and there was a pent up demand since she had been “closed” for business the 2nd half of last year while we were in Spain. On days of her shoots, it meant having Dylan enrolled in an after school program for a couple hours. Not ideal, so I started to work at home twice a week so between our schedules, one of us could always be home. We were busier than expected and juggling multiple schedules and priorities was challenging.

I had been contracting for a few months and wasn’t sure how much longer the job or I would last. The beauty of contracting was the implication of no commitment. Yet suddenly, I was faced with a decision: the company offered me a salaried position to convert from a contractor to an employee. Instead of the future being clear, at that point things started to get a little fuzzy. Grateful and appreciative of the offer, I asked for some time to think it over. A couple weeks passed and I still couldn’t come to a decision.

As the days became longer and warmer and Dylan’s arm strengthened, we could start riding our bikes on the trails during the weekends. For me, the times on a trail or in the mountains with Dylan are the times I store in a special place in my memory. Those times become a part of my soul and later, I might be sitting at my desk and I’ll suddenly stumble across one of those memories. I’ll linger with it for a few minutes and it brings me such joy. My hope is he will seek his own treasures and discover an enthusiasm for exploring long meandering trails in the mountains. Sometimes I’ll ask and it’s a push and pull to get him to head out with me. But the days when he perks ups and says “Yeah, let’s go!” – well those days are unforgettable. They’re not as often as I’d like, but I’ll take them when I can.


Dylan heading up to Lake Clementine on his bike.

Last year, we had made promises of bringing home a puppy. It seemed like once a week, Dylan kept asking if I had found a Ridgeback. Toward the end of April, I connected with a breeder in Wisconsin that had a litter and some of the puppies would be available and shipped to Sebastopol, CA at the end of May. I sent a deposit for one of the male puppies. She had one male puppy in particular that was not going to be show quality due to a little crook in his tail and would be $500 less. Since we had no intention of showing the dog, I thought he might work out just fine.

Back when I was in my junior year at Colorado State University, I drove down to the dog track in Colorado Springs one Saturday to look at adopting a retired greyhound. There was a kennel next to the race track that housed between 30-50 dogs. I walked in and played with a few of the greyhounds. They were all recently retired racing dogs. There was one that kept following me around the yard and giving me hugs with his 2 front paws. He was a 4 year old fawn colored greyhound and he was known as James Gang on the race track. I took him home, named him Harlem and we were constant companions over the next few years. He’d squeeze into the back of my 260Z and wait for me outside of classes. He loved to run, especially in the fresh snow. He could catch just about anything, but if you kept running once he hit the first mile marker he was done. His specialty was sprinting. He just didn’t know how to pace himself. So years later when I started to look for another dog, I stumbled across the Rhodesian Ridgeback breed. From Rhodesia, they were bred to hunt lions (among other things). But you would never know as they are the calmest and most relaxed dog I’ve seen. They are known for the hair on the ridge of their back that runs the opposite direction. A loyal family dog, intelligent, quiet but strong (both in will and body) they have incredible endurance (as in they can run at the pace of the horse for about 30 miles). So as I read about the Ridgebacks and then met a few, as someone who can spend hours running on mountain trails, I knew this was the only dog for me.

After a swim meet on a Saturday, we made the 2 hour drive over to Calico Ridge Kennels in Sebastopol. They had 5 puppies and we spent about half an hour playing with them. We liked the puppy with a crook in his tail but one puppy kept climbing into Dylan’s lap. His nose and mouth area were colored black which gave him a more distinguished look. He was show quality which meant full price but as I spent a few minutes with him, he picked us as much as we picked him. Nicole preferred a female as they would be smaller but I couldn’t resist the little puppy with wrinkles in his forehead and big paws, all curled up in Dylan’s lap.


At the Ridgeback Kennel, one kept cozying right up to Dylan

An hour later, we had our Ridgeback and named him Obi Juan. Although now that we’ve had him a while, Leo may have been the more appropriate name. We stopped in Santa Rosa to visit some friends and family then made our way back home. It took a few nights, but eventually little Obi was sleeping through the night in his crate. He would let us know when he had to go outside and quickly became comfortable going up and down stairs. We weren’t prepared for having a 8 week old puppy at home. I envisioned walks on the trails and Nicole and Dylan spending summer days at the lake. Well the first couple months we had him we were pretty much quarantined to the house since he couldn’t get his shots until 3 months old. No parks. No trails. No lakes. Even walks around the neighborhood were forbidden. Not very much fun. And since I was still working, Nicole took much of the brunt during the weekdays of watching him. Because he still had a lot of growing before he could start running, he wouldn’t be joining me on any runs in 2016.


Looking back, the summer was a blur. I was back to working more than I had anticipated. I found myself spending hours in the evenings and weekends running down work issues. When I could, I would commute to work on my bike but there were two problems that made commuting difficult. The first was the monstrous work computer that I was bringing home each night. It was too big to fit into my backpack. The second was just timing. Often Nicole had a session in the afternoon so it was a rush to make it home. So although the goal of bike commuting to work was noble, it just didn’t materialize.

Little League and swim team filled our evenings and weekends in the early part of summer. Once Dylan’s armed healed, his swing came around and his stroke smoothed itself out. When he first picked up a baseball and bat years ago, I only allowed him to swing from the left side of the plate. So although he is right handed, he has always hit from the left side. And only being able to swing with one hand for the first part of the season helped strengthen his bottom hand. He continued to improve in swimming which is the one sport I think he enjoys practicing above all others. It was a good year for him in the pool and he earned the honor of swimmer of the year on his team. In the summer evening, we enjoyed winding down the day by watching the swim events at the Rio Olympics. I think I finally understood and could appreciate the different strokes.


Dylan working hard in the Butterfly

Also during the summer, we spent some afternoons and picked different sections of the Pacific Crest Trail in our area to hike. And each time, we seemed to encounter a pass-thru hiker doing the entire trail from Canada to Mexico (all 2,650 miles). Some of my favorite places to run are the areas surrounding the Pacific Crest Trail near Donner Summit. In the summer, we took time to hike those trails a few times. In fact, we made it to the top of Castle Peak, did an overnight backpack trip to Loch Leven Lakes, hiked portions of the trail between Sugar Bowl and Squaw Valley, tackled the Sierra Buttes Lookout tower and went south to Horsetail Falls near Echo Lake.

Loch Leven was a test to try out the backpacking gear and see how we would do camping. It was about a 3 1/2 mile hike up to the lakes from the trailhead. We had done a test run a couple weeks before and hiked portions to see how Obi would do with the climbing and altitude.


Dylan and Obi doing a test run near Loch Leven Lakes trail

The trailhead sits off Highway 40, next to the South Yuba River between Cisco Grove and Kingvale. The first few miles are mainly up and there are portions where you find your own path as you scramble over giant granite boulders. Dylan was spent after the climb and thought the first lake was good enough to call home for the night. The first lake already had a couple campers so we kept moving to the second lake and found a nice spot next to the shoreline. We pitched our tent and watched the stars come out and then woke up to an amazing Sierra Nevada sunrise.


Dylan and Obi ready for some breakfast

We loved the experience and it’s close enough that we can easily do it again during the summer. Although our next backpacking adventures should take us through Desolation Wilderness this coming summer. The hardest part of Loch Leven is the climb getting to the lakes. It’s manageable; just take your time and talk about Minecraft to keep things moving.


Our camping spot at Loch Leven Lakes

This trip gave me a chance to try out some equipment and I realized we needed a lighter and smaller tent. Dylan carried his own bag but I was left carrying a heavy 3 person tent along with my own gear which did wonders for my back. My backpack for a mere 7 mile hike had probably more junk stuffed into it than those PCT hikers covering the entire trail from Mexico to Canada.

In July and August, our house was busier than normal. I had planned to work just the first 6 months of the year but now was thinking I should stay through the election. Nicole’s dad and fiancé were visiting from the Czech Republic and stayed with us for a few weeks. We also had my dad sleeping on the downstairs couch for a few nights as he was passing through while moving from Anchorage to Phoenix. Plus our little puppy kept doubling in size every couple of days. Nicole handled it all with patience and understanding. Some days, it seemed like we were just in survival mode, just trying to manage through the day.

I talked Nicole into joining us on the Sierra Buttes Lookout hike. Again, this was on a portion of the PCT and near the general store in Sierra City we ran into a hiker heading south to Mexico. He was almost halfway through his hike having started at the Canadian border. This hike surprised me on how beautiful and different the Sierra Buttes were compared to the mountains near Donner. Jagged and almost red, it was a stark contrast to the smooth granite I’m used to hiking. Just getting to the trailhead is quite the drive from Auburn but the views were spectacular most of the hike.


Midway through the hike and looking east towards Sardine Lake

At the top of the hike, there’s a staircase you can climb that will lead to the lookout house used to spot wildfires. From this spot, on a clear day you can spot Mt. Lassen to the north and Castle Peak to the south. We took a few minutes at the top and pointed towards some of the different parts of the PCT we had already hiked over the summer.


Sierra Buttes Lookout

Near the end of September and before the snow started to arrive, I wanted to hike one more portion of the PCT. Nicole was quite busy during this time with lots of shoots and speaking at the occasional conference so Dylan and I had time to hike and explore. One of my favorite trails, if I could only pick one, would have to be the section between Sugar Bowl and Squaw Valley. I hope to explore some of the John Muir portions between Yosemite and Mt. Whitney in the coming years. But until then, if I had just one more run left in me, this is where I would head out. So before any snow covered this portion of the PCT for the winter, Dylan and I headed south from Sugar Bowl shouting “Vamonos a Mexico!”. The wind howled along the summits, nearly blowing us over. We hiked a few miles until the sun started to set and then we turned around and headed home. I don’t know how much of an impact these hikes make on Dylan. All I can do is try to plant the seeds and keep sprinkling some water on them whenever I have the chance…


In October, it was time for the annual Sky Ridge Jog-A-Thon. Robin and Troy Soares put the event on each year and it’s exciting to see the young kids with their cheeks flushed red trying to run as many laps as they can. So I squeezed into the pickle costume again and dressed as Mr. Pickle, with the duty of chasing 3rd graders around the field for a few miles. Their goal was to run as many laps as they could in about 30 minutes. My goal was to not pass out and keep the Pickle moving. I’ve done this before and it’s always a blast, although running in that outfit is like running in a sauna.


Keeping pace with the 3rd graders

This year, my luck ran out. About halfway through, I tripped and landed awkwardly on my left foot. It felt like I rolled my ankle so I picked myself up off the ground, dusted myself off and carried on. Every step with my left foot was met with some pain but I figured I could run it off. As Mr. Pickle, the DNF was not an option. Another mile or so later, I chased the last few runners across the finish line, dragging my worthless left foot behind me. That was on a Friday and all weekend I could barely walk. The foot was swollen so much I thought my skin was going to tear. Between going up and down all the stairs in our house and taking the dog on his walks, I was in more pain than I was willing to admit. Nicole kept urging me to go to the doctor but I would reply “I’ll be fine in a couple days.” Finally, 3 days later with the foot black and blue and about ready to pop, I gave in. X-Rays confirmed a fifth metatarsal fracture both at the neck and near the top bone. The orthopedist felt no screw and no surgery was required and crutches with a walking cast/boot would do the job.


I was sent on my way with another appointment in 6 weeks to evaluate. It’s hard to describe the loss of running for a lengthy period would take on me. Especially during the Fall when the evenings are cool and the leaves soften the trails. It’s my favorite time of year to be outside even though every season has its own reasons that draw me out. Within a few days I was able to start hobbling around with the walking cast so my spirits lifted. I rationalized that 6 weeks might actually heal all the nagging aches and pains I’ve ignored over the past few years. Could I finally rid myself of my plantar fasciitis? Maybe this break would be just what I needed.

Soon I could endure longer walks and short hikes. We had planned a trip to China and Thailand for late November but cancelled those plans due to the foot. I couldn’t let Fall slip away without any more time in the mountains, so Dylan and I headed south and hiked to Horsetail Falls just off Highway 50 near Echo Lake. I struggled to keep up with Dylan and Obi but we managed to make it into Desolation Wilderness and had lunch, sitting on the side of the cliff overlooking the waterfall. Even though I was crippled, it ended up being one of our better hikes.


Hiking Horsetail Falls

In November, Nicole attended a conference in Palm Springs so Dylan and I planned a camping trip to the Mojave Desert and Joshua Tree National Park. The plan was for Nicole to fly down on Wednesday, then Dylan and I would drive down the next day and camp in Mojave Desert and Joshua Tree for a few nights. We’d pick Nicole up in Palm Springs and drive back home together on Sunday afternoon. I was still in my walking cast, reinforced with a couple layers of duct tape so I was pretty much unhindered. The drive down took forever but we passed the time by listening to the book “Wonder” by R.J. Palacio (a book Dylan and I thoroughly enjoyed). We finally exited Highway 40 around 7 PM then had to drive another 20 miles along a narrow road under a black sky to the Hole-In-The-Wall campsite. Along this section, an occasional rabbit would dart out into the headlights and hop across the road. There were countless car vs. rabbit near misses as we headed deeper into the desert. Finally we spotted a few lights and pulled into the campsite. We set up camp, enjoyed the stars and talked until we fell asleep.


Hiking near a campsite at Hole-In-The-Wall

The next morning, we hiked around a bit, did some rock climbing and removed countless cactus needles from Obi’s paws. By late morning, we were packed up again and on our way to Joshua Tree. I didn’t want to arrive in Joshua Tree too late in the afternoon as the campsites are on a first come first serve basis. But I figured camping in November wouldn’t be all that popular. I couldn’t have been more wrong. At the ranger station in Twentynine Palms, we were told all campgrounds were full and nothing would open up over the weekend. I had read online that the rangers often say there are no more campsites when some may still be available, so we drove through the park just in case. But sure enough, everything was packed. Our only option was pitching our tent on a spot in the Bureau of Land Management space on the edge of the park. Not ideal, but Dylan’s main objective was having a campfire so as long as we had a fire we were set.

Next morning we rose early, drove through the park and miraculously found a freshly vacated campsite at the Ryan campground. We quickly claimed the spot and spent the night in Joshua Tree.


Our campsite in Joshua Tree National Park

At an elevation of 4,300′, once the sun went down we had to bundle up to stay warm. Obi kept shivering in the tent and tried crawling into our sleeping bags and snuggled with us on our pillows. At around 5 AM, the sounds of a howling pack of coyotes woke us up. They sounded fairly close the tent and Obi bolted straight up, looking around nervously. The howls faded and we fell back asleep.

I was surprised at how incredible the scenery is once you are inside the park. I’d passed by (both by car and bike) numerous times but never took the time to drive into the park. It’s amazing.


With the weekend over, we picked up Nicole from her convention in Palm Springs and then made the long drive home.

November also meant a return to the orthopedist to check on my foot. My foot was feeling much better but there was a slight burning sensation if I put pressure on the outside of my foot. But overall, the foot was feeling great and I was feeling optimistic.

When I went in for my X-Ray, I asked the technician if I could take a peek. When she showed me the slide, I thought I was looking at the one from 6 weeks ago. There must be some mistake. The bone was still split with a large visible gap in the neck. It looked as though nothing had changed. My appointment was a couple days off and I had a rough time sleeping, worrying I had encountered another setback.

It wasn’t long after until I was back in the examining room at the orthopedist. They took one look at my boot and said they had never seen a boot so completely worn as the one duct taped to my left foot. There was some good news. The orthopedist confirmed the new X-Rays did indeed show healing and said things looked great but the bone still needed more time. His comforting words were: “If you were 18, it would have healed by now. But at your age, things take a little longer.” My prescription refilled: another 6 weeks of no running. It was settled, there would be no more running in 2016.

We closed our year relaxing at home and spending time with friends. Lisa and Steve came over and Steve took Dylan and I fishing to Collins Lake where they landed 2 decent sized trout. I lack the patience fishing requires so I did my best to stay out of their way. I would occasionally pester Steve with questions to give the appearance I thought I knew what I was talking about: Hey Steve, what weight fishing line are you using? PowerBait or worms? But what I really wanted to ask was: How do I tell the difference between a trout and bass? We had a great time and enjoyed 2 home cooked meals from the catch.


Dylan and Steve reeling in the first of two at Collins Lake

The pivot of 2016 resembled more of a stumble through 2017 as I’ve floundered in my direction. I’ll soon find out if my foot has healed enough to start running again. I have absolutely no idea what’s in store for 2017. We could end the year on the other side of the planet or end up exactly where we are now and possibly somewhere in between. Eight years is the longest we’ve ever lived in the same house and now that we’ve been here that long it’s hard to uproot ourselves. No matter where this year takes us and where on earth we end up, we know the best journeys are the ones we share together.

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Why We Shouldn’t Have Done What We Just Did

“Either you decide to stay in the shallow end of the pool or you go out in the ocean.” – Christopher Reeve

“Either you decide to stay in the shallow end of the pool or you go out in the ocean.” – Christopher Reeve

I admit that I put my family through a lot and have taken them on journeys that might have broken other families. I’m not sure how many families would survive over three months of living out of a suitcase and not knowing where they’ll be going next, how they’ll be getting there and what they’ll do once they get there. But that’s exactly what we did. And as we are nearing the end of our time traveling through Europe, I finally have a few days to sit down to reflect on all we’ve experienced. I had meant to post more frequent entries during our trip but finding time to write proved elusive. How do you ever explain everything we’ve experienced on this type of trip? If friends ask what it was like I can smile and respond with “Amazing…” and “Unbelievable…” and in a few minutes we’ll both be on our way because there’s not really a way to fully describe this journey. I doubt we are going to be able to process all that we have experienced. Details will be forgotten. Sights will fade from memory and my account of some parts will go missing.

It’s a lot to ask after 20 years of marriage to one summer day pack our bags and leave everything we know behind, to walk away from a well paying career and convince my family to wander through Europe together and wait to discover where the wind takes us. First, some might argue it is a terrible financial decision. Luckily we had planned for this time, and more importantly, we base our decisions more on accumulating experiences rather than things/money. Also, it made us spend almost all of our time together and I mean 24 hours a day and 7 days a week. If you don’t get along with the people you are traveling with on a trip like this, it’s not going to end well. This was by no means a luxury vacation. We’ve seen and experienced some amazing places on this journey. However much of the time we shared a single room, traveled by public transportation and tried to save a few euros by eating out only once a day, or buying a loaf of bread, some cheese and salami at the local market and having our dinner on the beach.

There were a dozen reasons not to make this journey. We would both be missing out on career and business opportunities. Our son would miss a big part of the school year. He would miss participating in sports, birthday parties and holidays. We don’t speak Catalan (the language spoken in Barcelona). Most of the time, we would be living outside our comfort zone. Other than the first 2 weeks, we had no idea where we would go or how we would get around. What if one of us came down with something and became ill? What if something happened to us? So many things could go wrong. But there are always a hundred things that can go wrong even if we stayed home and stuck with the normal routine. I just need to constantly remind myself there are a million things that can go right. And just in case we ran into an emergency, we kept a FUBAR fund of money on the shelf for unexpected disasters and expenses along the way. Without a doubt, something we hadn’t anticipated would come up. Something would break. We knew we’d eventually need to pull money out for these unplanned expenses.

I’ve talked of pivots and game changers. Through the years I’ve come to realize when I have the chance to make a big decision, to try to make a game changing decision. Obviously it’s impossible to predict the future and know what will be a game changer versus a huge mistake. And every decision cannot be a game changer. Yet when I thought about this time in my life, I had to ask myself what we would most remember and what would have the greatest impact: doing the same thing I’d been doing for the past 20 years or packing our bags and exploring the world together? If at the end of my life, I could go back and do something different: what path would I choose? Make more money or make more memories? In the end, the decision became so clear it was rather easy to let go. Not to say I didn’t lose sleep or had to overcome some fears. There is always the chance of something going wrong. If I watched the news every night, I would never leave the comfort of our house. Most of the news reports the world as a scary and dangerous place: a world teetering on the edge of disaster. I could spend my whole life afraid to live. Lately, I’m trying to avoid the news. I think Plato expressed it best when he said “Courage is knowing what not to fear.”

Like everyone else, we have our moments of complaining and the stress can get the best of us. We are not immune to experiencing hard times and things don’t always go right for us. We have to deal with being tired, hungry, bored, frustrated, upset and all the pressures that go with traveling around and just plain living together for months. When we started this trip, I had envisioned us settling in one place longer, but we found once we arrived there was so much to see that we were travelling much more than we had expected. It goes without saying that it’s not always easy but the last few months went remarkably smoother than I had expected.

So here’s a more detailed account of where we went and some of what we saw.

For the first leg of our journey, we flew from Oakland to Oslo, Norway. Originally our plan was to fly to Spain but when we started looking at airline tickets, it looked like we were going to have a stop-over in Norway. So we thought, why not extend our stop-over for a week and drive around Norway? Having never been to Norway, we weren’t sure what to expect. We landed in Oslo and spent two rainy days in the city before driving to Lillehammer and eventually to the coastal city of Alesund.


The Ski Jump in Lillehammer

The beauty of Norway was one of the biggest surprises of our trip. As we drove, we couldn’t believe the beauty of the entire country. Our car would come around a bend to an incredible view (something like driving through Yosemite) and we’d the awestruck. Then a little while later, we’d come across a more amazing view. This went on for hours and hours over the span of the whole week.

Some of the fjords near Geiranger, Norway. Yes that is snow in August.

Some of the fjords near Geiranger, Norway. Yes that is snow in August.

A few things really stuck out about Norway. There must be an unspoken rule about making as little noise as possible as it was the quietest country I’ve ever visited. Since we stayed for only 1-2 nights at each stop, we stayed in hotels or bed and a breakfast type inns. Every stay included a delicious Norwegian breakfast. Each morning as we sat eating our breakfast with the other guests or had a meal in a restaurant, nobody made a noise above a whisper. Cities were void of honking cars, sirens, trucks beeping or the typical city construction noises. The experience was eerie. The Norwegians were never rude or unfriendly, rather there was an air of indifference. We noticed many things were left to self-govern. The local parks had trampolines built into the playground and weren’t surrounded by safety nets, something you would never see in a city park in the United States, as the city would be sued bankrupt when the first kid went home crying from falling.

Jumping for joy at our stay in Sogndals

Jumping for joy at our stay in Sogndal

Driving through the countryside with homes on the shores of picturesque lakes with gigantic mountains looming above, the scenes were all void of people. For the entire week, the amazing Norwegian countryside and towns we drove through were missing Norwegians. The lights were on in the houses and the people home. However for some unknown reasons the majority of Norwegians prefer to spend their August days inside. We drove over 1,000 miles and outside of Oslo and Bergen I never came across any law enforcement. Driving, I kept wondering where all the highway patrol cars were and why I never saw any police cars on the roads. Then I started spotting them: video cameras. All over, we were being watched by cameras. Soon after that we stopped at the edge of a lake for some pictures. A few minutes later a Russian tourist pulled up and asked me about the speed limit signs. I told him I wasn’t sure but I found the speed sometimes marked when entering a town. He told me he was worried because his friend had driven around Norway and was rewarded with some expensive speeding tickets when his vacation ended. Speeding tickets all captured by roadside cameras. I suddenly panicked about how many speeding tickets I might have already racked up. From then on, I kept my eyes peeled for speed limit signs and cameras. All toll booths were unmanned. You just drove through and a camera captured your car and we would receive a bill at the end of our journey. And the system worked. Incredibly efficient but somewhat unnerving.

I had pictured the fjords as an area in Norway we would drive to and see for a day, when in fact fjords are all throughout the country. Enormous mountains with jagged cliffs shot up at the waters’ edge. One of the highlights of our time there was taking an inflatable speed boat tour through the fjords near Flam. Our little boat sped across the fjords, crisscrossing from one side to another. We passed homes and farms only accessible by boat. At one point we got so close to the rocky shore that a herd of goats grazing on some lonely cliffs mistook our little boat as their farmer’s boat and they gathered on the shore, ready to jump in if we edged any closer.

Taking an inflatable boat ride through the fjords near Flam, Norway

Taking an inflatable boat ride through the fjords near Flam, Norway

And to drive through Norway, we literally drove through the country. Most of the time, we were driving through tunnels or over bridges as Norway demonstrates an enormous engineering feat with their highway system. We even had a chance to drive through the Laerdal Tunnel, the world’s longest road tunnel (over 15 miles long with other tunnels connecting to it).

Laerdal Tunnel, the world’s longest road tunnel (over 15 miles long with other tunnels connecting to it)

Laerdal Tunnel, the world’s longest road tunnel (over 15 miles long with other tunnels connecting to it)

At one point, we exited one long underground tunnel through a mountain immediately onto a bridge spanning a massive fjord. The bridge carried us over the fjord and once on the other side, we immediately entered another tunnel built halfway up the side of the cliff. Other times we would exit a tunnel and there would be no bridge, just a fjord that we needed to cross. At these spots, we would drive our rental car onto a ferry and would enjoy a nice boat ride across the water.

All in all, Norway has to be one of the best places we have seen. The price of food and eating was in the stratosphere so if you go be prepared to spend a lot of money on food. Gas wasn’t cheap but we rented a small diesel so it wasn’t too bad. The layover in Norway was something we hadn’t planned to do but, again we decided to try something different and are so glad we did. Had we not gone, we would have never known what we would have missed. Just like in life, most of the time many of us are happy with the path we have chosen, but if we never try a different path we’ll never know what we might be missing.

Our last two days were spent in Bergen, which was totally different than the rest of Norway. Lots of people out walking the streets. The sun shone bright and we strolled through the fish markets at the wharf and sampled moose jerky.

The waterfront in Bergen, Norway

The waterfront in Bergen, Norway

Had our journey ended there and we boarded a plan back to California, it would have been an incredible trip. Yet, our journey had only begun.

From Norway, we flew to Barcelona and started our time in Spain. Our friend, Ines, surprised us at the airport and picked us up and drove us to our hotel. The next day we found our apartment and needless to say, it was not what we were expecting. For the first 2 weeks, we had rented an apartment in the Gothic part of Barcelona just a few blocks off the famous Las Ramblas. One of our goals was to experience city life on a daily basis and everything the big cities offers. We live a pretty sheltered life in our small town of Auburn and wanted to expose us and Dylan to, not just a different culture, but a different type of living. So our first place was a bit of a shock.

Our apartment in the Gothic area

Our apartment on Carrer d’Obradors in the Gothic area

Looking back, that apartment was not the best for us but we would not have appreciated other places had we not started there. It was dark with almost no natural light. The family across the alley could be heard yelling at 1 AM most mornings. Around the corner looked to be the local drug dealing spot. One evening we were eating some pizza at the corner pizzeria (at the infamous corner before we knew it was infamous) and sitting in stools looking out the windows as people streamed by. In the flash of an eye, two guys came crashing against the window, fists flying and tackling each other. We immediately grabbed Dylan and scrambled to the other side and then tried to find our way out of there. We were definitely in the midst of the big city and, for the most part, we tried to embrace it.

In order to stop working and embark on this type of a journey, I had forecasted all types of income scenarios and played with dozens of retirement calculators and it looked like as long as we could maintain a 6% annualized return, things would be manageable. I would stop fretting about the daily performance of the market and try to look at things once a week, on Saturday mornings. We also had Dylan pretend to buy stocks in his four favorite companies: Amazon (he loves reading the reviews on the new Lego toys), Apple (it’s all about the iPad), Google (YouTube), Microsoft (he can’t wait for the HoloLens). He had some fictional money to trade with and bought stocks in each of the four companies.

A couple days later, the market corrected. First lesson he learned was: stocks can go down! Even though I knew it was probably coming and it was much needed, it was a little hard to swallow. Suddenly I could feel myself starting to worry and I kept checking how the stock market was performing during the day. My plan of not paying close attention to the market seemed to go right out the window when the stock market went into this much needed correction. I had just moved half of my 401K into Google (Alphabet) stock and was kicking myself for moving too soon. Within the first few weeks of being unemployed, I had managed to watch a substantial amount of money vanish. Second lesson: Don’t panic.

Settling into a daily routine the first few weeks wasn’t as easy as I expected. Tourists packed the city streets and crowded the Barcelona beaches so a few times we would take the bus outside the city to the Magicwave Gava beach area. We could spend the late afternoon lying on the sand while Dylan played in the waves. Nicole also came down with a severe cough the last couple of weeks. So sometimes Dylan and I would head out while Nicole could rest.

We found a tennis club, Club Esportiu Laieta, on the north side of town right next to Camp Nou where the FC Barcelona soccer team plays. The tennis director let us join and pay for a few weeks without having to pay the normal initiation fee since it required a 6 month membership. So for the next few weeks, every afternoon or evening depending on the temperature and humidity, Dylan and I would take the metro to the tennis club and hit tennis balls to each other for about 60-90 minutes on the Spanish red clay courts. We played nearly every day while we were in Barcelona.

It's not Roland Garros but it will do

It’s not Roland Garros but it will do

What I hadn’t anticipated during our time in Barcelona, was the amount of time spent just getting around the city. It usually took about 1 hour each way to take the metro to the tennis club. So at least 2 hours of the day were spent just getting to/from the tennis club. We would wake up in the morning and usually walk to one of nearby cafes for fresh bread or croissants. Come later afternoon/evening, since so many sites are located near Las Ramblas, we would often walk around and stroll through the cobblestone streets and alleys enjoying the atmosphere and discovering a new gelato shop. By the time our feet made their way back to the apartment, we were averaging between 20,000 to 30,000 steps a day. My feet were killing me and the Roman cobblestone streets were not helping my plantar fasciitis!

After our 2 weeks staying near Las Ramblas, we decided to move to another part of Barcelona. Ines had an extra apartment near the Glories and Sagrada Familia area and offered it to us for a week while we found a new place. It was the exact opposite of our Obradors apartment. Light and airy with a view of Sagrada Familia, now we didn’t avoid spending time in the apartment like we had avoided spending time in our last one. The streets were quieter and very few tourists roamed the neighborhood, instead it was local families and older couples. In the evenings, the older couples would congregate in the plazas and sit on the benches chatting and laughing, and the young families strolled through the streets with their children. It felt good for the 3 of us to walk down the streets and through the plazas and see everybody out and socializing. It was like this every evening and we loved it.

One day we took the train south along the coast to the town of Tarragona, which contains some ancient Roman ruins. The train ride only took 90 minutes each way and we spent the day seeing a nearly intact amphitheater, an impressive aqueduct, some other ruins and spent some more time playing at the beach.

Roman amphitheater in Tarragona

Roman amphitheater in Tarragona

As we sat on the beach next to the amphitheater, we wondered if in the Roman era families would make their way to this same beach and spend the afternoon playing in the water. Sadly, probably not.

Spending most afternoons in the shadows of the Camp Nou stadium and seeing FC Barcelona jerseys all over the city, we started to notice we had come down with the soccer itch. We checked to see if it was possible to get tickets to a soccer game. After tennis one afternoon, Dylan and I walked over to the stadium and bought 3 tickets last minute to a game that night. Not knowing what to expect, we had a blast watching the 90 minute match versus Malaga (Barcelona won 1-0). Hearing the crowd sing songs and shout chants all throughout the evening made it as exciting as being in the stands at an SF Giants game. The stadium would fill with whistling whenever the hometown crowd felt the referee missed a call.

Watching FC Barcelona versus Malaga

Watching Barcelona FDB versus Malaga


That evening is an example of spending money on an experience rather than burning money on another thing. It was an evening that we’ll probably remember for the rest of our lives.

Days would often be spent traveling around or outside of Barcelona and learning about the area and sights. We toured all the usual spots: Sagrada Familia, Tibidabo, many of the Roman ruins in Barcelona, museums and even the Costa Brava area. One of the more interesting sights we visited was of the old bomb shelters under Mt. Juic, just a few blocks from Las Ramblas.

The city life began to wear on us and we started looking forward to trying a different part of Spain. Eventually, we would find a cycle that worked well for us: after a time traveling and absorbing so many sights, we would escape to a quiet location that would serve as a retreat for a few days where we could recover and rejuvenate. This was a pattern we found ourselves following the next few months.

In the second week of September, we packed a suitcase with all the things we thought we’d need for a couple of weeks (incorrectly assuming we’d be back in Barcelona in just a few weeks), and took a plane to the Spanish island of Ibiza. Everything we thought we would need, had needed or might possibly need in the future needed to squeeze into either one suitcase or one carryon that the 3 of us were sharing. Suddenly our wardrobe turned very simple. We had been debating between Menorca and Ibiza. In the end we settled on a room at the Club Hotel Portinatx in Ibiza because it was an all-inclusive resort and we liked the idea of having all the meals and activities covered. Since Portinatx is on the far side of the island and Ibiza has no public transportation to get around the island, it’s the one time in Europe we rented a car. We landed and took a shuttle to the GoldCar rental agency. When the shuttle dropped us off, the line of people waiting to pick up their cars snaked out the door. You could smell that rain would soon be falling as the morning sky darkened. Had I known we were about to be scammed and would have to withdrawal from our FUBAR Fund, I would have headed right back to the airport and rented from a more reputable agency. After waiting nearly an hour in the rental car line, we finally were waved up to the counter. The rain had started and it was pouring with lightning and thunder outside. The agent gave the normal upsell on upgrading to a bigger model and graciously said he was going to upgrade us from a compact to a midsize at no charge. Then he gave us the hard sell on upgrading to full insurance coverage. He spent about 15 minutes going over reasons we should upgrade our insurance even though we had already purchased full coverage from a 3rd party when we rented the car online. When he finally realized that I was not going to pay another 170 euros for his insurance, he stated he could no longer rent a car to me. A few minutes later I relented and reluctantly agreed to fork over the 170 euros. After well over an hour, they had worn me down and all I wanted to do was get a car and get on our way. We loaded our luggage and drove away. This would not be the last time we would regret using the GoldCar rental car company and be forced to dip into the FUBAR Fund.

Portinatx sounded perfect and looked even better on the website. The hotel sat on a peninsula with its own private beach and had a couple tennis courts. We never had the chance to use the courts. In fact, for the next 2 months we carried our tennis rackets around Europe but never had a chance to play after leaving Barcelona. The hotel sat atop a small cliff at the edge of a bay. A tiny beach sat at the bottom of the cliff that was meant just for the hotel guests. The beach also had a few kayaks we could use or we could just swim at the beach so long as we avoided the jelly fish.

Kayaking in Portinatx

Kayaking in Portinatx

Our room had 3 single beds, 2 pushed together to resemble something of a queen bed. Many of our stays in Europe included this type of a setup and it was never comfortable. Sometime during the night, either Nicole or I would find we had fallen into the crack that had opened between the 2 single beds pushed together. We would have to wake up and push the beds back together and work out the kinks in our backs. The crowd at the hotel was a little different as was the food. We couldn’t really put our finger on it but we realized we were on this amazing island and not enjoying our time. Soon into our stay, Dylan came down with something and just wanted to stay in the room. So one afternoon we took the rental car and explored the island and found an apartment outside Sant Antoni with 2 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, a living room, dining room, kitchen and large balcony, much bigger than our single room in Portinatx, and for less. So the next day we relocated to this apartment that was only a quick run from Sant Antoni. As the days passed, Dylan seemed to be getting worse and not better. When we went to a beach and he didn’t want to swim and just wanted to sleep on his towel, we knew he wasn’t well. Over the next week he was fighting a viral croup infection (something he seems to get once a year), had absolutely no energy and the nights would be spent coughing for hours. Again, this turned into an example of something you don’t really plan on happening. Maybe a reason some parents wouldn’t take their kids on this type of a trip. But, it’s just as likely he could have come down with something at home.

Our time in Sant Antoni ended up being close to ideal given the circumstances. We were able to get out a little when Dylan had the energy. The coastline around that part of the island had a variety of different beaches. Some were rocky cliffs where we would claim a flat part of the rock as our own and sit and watch the waves or jump in from one of the rocks for a swim. Other beaches were flat and sandy and more popular with the crowds. One routine we only noticed in Ibiza was that people would find their way to the beaches around sunset and everyone would enjoy watching the sun sink into the Mediterranean and then clap and cheer for having lived and seen another beautiful day.

Sunset on Ibiza

Sunset on Ibiza

Near the end of our time in Ibiza, we took the ferry to the neighboring island of Formentera. Dylan said he was feeling up to it so we took the chance and ventured out for the day. By the time we decided to give Formentera a try, it was late in the morning and the last ferry to Formentera was leaving soon. We raced our little car over to the main town of Ibiza to catch the last ferry but could not find a parking place. We circled and circled the port looking for a place to park and finally found a spot just as the ferry was scheduled to depart. We ran down to the beach expecting to have missed our only chance at making it to Formentera when we spotted the ferry still at the dock and blowing its horns. We made it with less than a minute to spare. Crisis averted and our day saved.

Our day in Formentera was pure bliss. When the ferry docked, we rented 3 bikes and rode to the end of the island and spent the afternoon at the beach, Playa de Ses Illetes. That beach is near the top of our list of the best beaches we have ever put our feet on.



After 11 days on Ibiza we flew to Madrid, but not before GoldCar raided our FUBAR Fund one more time. We returned our rental car early in the morning and took the shuttle back to airport (about a 10 minute trip). Within a few minutes of arriving at the airport, we realized Dylan had left his iPad in the rear seat pocket of the rental car. Right away, we called GoldCar to have an employee check the pocket. They replied the car would be cleaned and checked and they would surely report anything they found when they cleaned the car. Sure you will, I thought. I pleaded with them to check the car at once but they “assured” me they would notify us later if anything was discovered. I had absolutely no faith but poor Dylan kept asking for days when they were going to return the iPad. A few weeks later I received an email saying nothing was recovered from the car.

While in Madrid, Nicole attended a photo retouching workshop while Dylan and I mostly laid low as we tried to let him recover his strength for the next leg of our journey. From what I experienced in Madrid, there were some aspects that I like more than Barcelona. Madrid was more spread out with lots of large parks throughout the city. When walking around, the city didn’t feel so crowded with people. We only spent a few days in Madrid and then took the train north to visit Bilbao.

At this point in our journey, I began to get more comfortable with Renfe, the Spanish train system and booking trains through their website. So from Madrid we took the 6 hour train trip to Bilbao to visit the hometown of our friend Mercedes and her family. With destinations like Barcelona, Madrid, Ibiza, Granada and Ronda, Bilbao wasn’t particularly on our radar and we weren’t expecting much. However, when we arrived in Bilbao and spent some time with Mercedes and her family, walking around town and near the river, we immediately fell in love with Bilbao. This city sits in the valley with a range of hills rising on both sides. The river splits it into 2 sides with walking and cycling paths running along both edges. In the last 20 years, the city has gone through a revitalization and it shows. There’s a metro but everything was so close that we could walk to wherever we needed to go in less than 15 minutes. Runners and cyclists flowed up and down the river every afternoon and well into the evenings. It seemed like everyone in Bilbao is either a runner or cyclist.

On one rainy day, Mercedes took her youngest son (he’s about Dylan’s age) out of school and drove all of us 1 hour north to the coastal town of San Sebastian. The clouds broke just as we arrived and we spent some time walking through the city’s seaside aquarium. We continued walking along the old city streets and eventually followed the beach up to Monte Igueldo. There was an old amusement park at the top of the mountain that provided spectacular views of San Sebastian. Even though the park was closed, Mercedes somehow sweet-talked one of the operators into starting up a roller coaster and letting us ride it once around.

We enjoyed the time in Bilbao so much that we extended our stay a few more days. The Red Bull Cliff Diving Championships were coming into town for the weekend so there was tons of entertainment. A diving platform was built on the side of one of the tall bridges that crossed over the river. During high tide on Friday and Saturday the athletes would dive off the bridge into the river in front of hundreds of thousands of people that had flocked into the city for the event.


Red Bull Cliff Diving in Bilbao, Spain

Red Bull Cliff Diving in Bilbao, Spain

Before we had to leave, all I wanted to do was find a dirt trail and explore some of the surrounding mountains. So Saturday morning, Mercedes’ husband Manu took me for a run on one of his favorite trails outside the city. As we were ending our run and coming back through the city, I mentioned to Manu that I was sad we were going to miss going further north in Spain and seeing the El Camino de Santiago. At about that moment, he pointed to 2 hikers with backpacks strolling down the city street on the opposite side of us and said they were hiking El Camino de Santiago. I thought I misinterpreted what he was saying and asked “Isn’t El Camino de Santiago at least 100 miles away?” He turned to me and said, “No, it runs right through Bilbao. Let me show you!” And with that we took off towards old town and found El Camino de Santiago right in Bilbao, less than 1 mile from where we were staying. All week I had been running up and down the river and passing right by the famous El Camino de Santiago and never even knew it.

We were sad to say goodbye to Bilbao and Mercedes and her family. We even debated getting an apartment and extending our stay even longer. But we decided to continue exploring other parts of Spain and head south back to Madrid and then Toledo. We realized that, should we come back and spend a longer time in Spain, Bilbao will likely be the place we will call home. At some point in the next 5 years, we can picture ourselves spending 6-9 months living in Bilbao and having Dylan attending one of the local schools.

Returning to Madrid on the train, we spent a few more days in the city as we figured out where to go next. We also took a day and visited the town of Toledo just a quick 40 minute train ride from Madrid. The first thing we had to do when we arrived was get up to Toledo. It’s an old medieval city built on top of a hill and is best explored by foot. The old part of the city is surrounded on 3 sides by the river and cliffs which makes it easy to defend. Luckily, in the 21st century they installed an escalator that takes you from the bottom to the top in less than 10 minutes.

Little shops selling swords and armored knight gear lined the streets. We took a walking tour of Santa Iglesia cathedral, the original city gate and city walls and wandered through the old streets. There’s a path outside the walls that circles the entire city (it’s probably only a few miles total) that would be an awesome daily run if we lived in Toledo. We took a late train back to Madrid and then booked 3 bus tickets heading south to Granada. We were on the move again.



Up to that point, we had either been traveling between cities by either rail or air. The train is easy and usually less expensive than flying but flying between cities and countries in Western Europe can sometimes be unbelievably inexpensive. But we discovered private buses also run between cities and can be even more economical. So we decided to take a 5 hour bus trip from Madrid down to Granada. It was actually pretty comfortable, with WiFi and TV screens in the back of every seat. The bus was nearly full of travelers just like us. Halfway through the trip it made a 30 minute stop so everybody could stretch their legs and grab something to eat. The scenery from Madrid to Granada consisted of miles and miles of olive orchards. That was pretty much all we saw for 5 hours: one olive orchard after another stretching across rolling hills as far as the eye could see.

The time traveling between cities was the best time for me to catch up on reading. Transitioning from city to city or country to country gave me time to read. I was finally able to finish “Show Stopper!: The Breakneck Race to Create Windows NT and the Next Generation at Microsoft” by Pascal Zachary. Although over 20 years old, the book is a classic technology story and shows how much work goes into creating the software we use and develop. If you like to read the story behind the story, it’s well worth reading.

We had rented a large downtown apartment in Granada off Calle Recogidas and only about a 15 minute walk to the entrance gate leading up to The Alhambra. Outside our apartment, lining the street and most of the streets throughout Granada were orange and pomegranate trees. You could literally walk down the street and pick fruit off the trees. Another thing we loved about Granada were the tapas. Every restaurant in Granada serves free tapas with every drink. So if I ordered a Coke for 1.50 euros, it also included a free plate of tapas. And the tapas were delicious. This was a great way for us to eat a meal yet sample a few different types of food. I should mention that throughout this trip, Dylan ate everything served to him. We never had to worry about ordering something from a “kid’s menu” or had to find an American restaurant. Granada introduced us to eggplant fries with honey and molasses sauce, and cherimoya, which is also called the ice cream fruit because of it’s creamy taste and texture.

We spent a day walking up to The Alhambra and touring the grounds and learning the history and finishing up in Generalife area.

The path up to The Alhambra

The path up to The Alhambra

For me, the parklike setting surrounding The Alhambra was more enjoyable than what was inside the walls. Sure, the different style of buildings and the courtyards and gardens were beautiful, but just strolling the paths up to the garden hand-in-hand with Nicole while Dylan played with the water flowing down the hill was the best part of our day at Alhambra.

The Alhambra at sunset

The Alhambra at sunset

We had originally planned to stay in Granada for just a few days but we enjoyed the area more than we thought we would. Even more, I really enjoyed getting out for runs in the hills above The Alhambra with the Spanish Sierra Nevada mountains as my backdrop. After a couple days, we decided to stay a few extra days.

Twice I became lost during my runs in the hills above Granada. Not terribly lost, but I had followed a nice single track trail above Generalife heading towards the mountains.

In the hills above Granda

In the hills above Granda

A couple miles in, I decided to head back. Instead of just turning around the way I came, I decided to try and cross over the valley and take the other side back toward the city. So down the side of the hill I went and soon became lost in a series of dead ends. Disoriented, I ended up in an encampment where some people were living in caves. I received a few strange looks as I tried to find my way through the shrubs and paths and was eventually chased by a few dogs. Luckily I followed the river safely back towards town and vowed to avoid that particular area in the future. A couple nights later, I would find myself in a similar situation but in a completely different area. Apparently, people living in caves above Granada is not uncommon.

After Granada, we boarded another bus and headed northeast through the Andalucia region of Spain to Cordoba. We had debated skipping Cordoba, but had heard good things about the Moorish Mosque-Cathedral there. So we opted to use the bus system again and stay a few nights in Cordoba. The day after we arrived, we walked under threatening skies from our hotel over the Roman bridge to the Mosque.

Roman bridge in Cordoba

Roman bridge in Cordoba

That afternoon when we left the Mosque, it rained harder than I have seen it rain in a long, long time. We spent the rest of the afternoon and a couple days exploring the city of Cordoba. It was likely our most uneventful stop as we were again tiring of the big city, busy crowds and cobblestone streets. We were longing for a more quiet and quaint location. Our next two destinations would prove the perfect retreat.

After Cordoba, we again used the Renfe train system and took the train south to Ronda. We found an apartment in the old historic part of Ronda that we could rent for a few nights. The town sits high up on a mountaintop and the two parts of the city are connected by amazing stone bridges. One bridge is referred to as the new bridge, yet that is because it was built only 300 years ago. The other bridge is much, much older. There was a walking path that led down to the valley below and we followed it for a bit to take some pictures.

Ronda at sunset

Ronda at sunset

There was a magical feeling staying in Ronda. Many years ago we visited Eze, a medieval village that sits high atop the cliffs on the French Mediterranean near Monaco. It’s one of the places you never forget and remember fondly. Being in Ronda, we experienced those same feelings. It was like going back in time. We also visited La Casa Del Rey Moro where there’s a secret passage of stairs leading down to the river in case the town was ever attacked. Ronda is also where Spanish bull fighting started and there is still an old bull ring near the center of town that is used once a year.

Inside Plaza de Toros

Inside Plaza de Toros

After Ronda, we needed to find a way to get to our next stop: the Hotel Fuerte near Grazalema. The little town of Grazalema was only about a 45 minute drive from Ronda, but we had no car. No trains passed through Grazalema. In fact, our hotel was not even in Grazalema. Instead it was a couple miles before Grazalema. Luckily, we found a bus that went to Grazalema twice a day and were told we could ask the driver to drop us off near the entrance to the hotel. So we caught the bus and trusted the bus driver had heard of our hotel and would know where to drop us off.

Luckily it all worked out and the bus driver dropped us off by the side of the road near our hotel entrance, and we rolled our suitcases down the road to the hotel. It was beautiful, and the ideal retreat for a few days. The description had mentioned it was situated within a national park and there were hiking and biking trails. Well not exactly. There was 1 trail that led out the back of the hotel. Every few hundred feet, the trail had a gate that I would need to open and close as it passed through some goat and sheep farms. Eventually it led to a gravel road that would continue into the town of Grazalema.

Hotel Fuerte Grazalema

Dylan diving into the pool at the Hotel Fuerte Grazalema

The 3 of us took the trail and walked into town one afternoon. There’s not much to the town but there are better hiking trails on the opposite side of town. We had lunch and bought a flute for Dylan that he played it the entire way back. It was one of the best 2 euros spent as he kept himself occupied and we never once heard the usual complaint during our walks of “I’m tired. How much further?”

Playing the flute in the countryside near Grazalema

Playing the flute in the countryside near Grazalema

The hotel included delicious breakfast and dinner every day, and that made our stay even more enjoyable. We also had time at this stop to use our baseball mitts and play catch on the grass, feed the animals in the nearby stables, walk through the countryside and just sit and enjoy the views. The days passed quickly as we tried to plan the next leg of our journey.

From the beginning to the end of our trip, technology played a crucial role. We relied on Google Maps to navigate around Norway and used our mobile devices/laptops all during our stay to research and book hotels and apartments. Getting around most cities was easily accomplished using Google Maps. And Google Maps had all the metro and bus lines in the big cities so it made it very easy to get from point A to point B using our phones. However, the free WiFi provided by most apartments/hotels was almost always a problem. Usually it was too slow and inconsistently unreliable. We struggled with WiFi the entire trip. We use T-Mobile which has free international data and our phones could act as hotspots which was awesome. Yet the free international data comes at a cost as they throttle the speed down to 3G. So for using Google Maps and TripAdvisor or uploading a picture to Facebook, it works. But anything that required a fast internet connection we would try to use the faster WiFi. For example, Nicole couldn’t SnapChat as often as she would have liked. As a backup, I bought a Vodafone SIM card with 1.5 GB of LTE data we could use in a pinch. The intermittent WiFi meant that each night after Dylan went to bed, we would be on the internet for about an hour or more researching the next day’s activities or the next possible destination.

While staying in Grazalema, I was scrambling to make arrangements for the next stage of our trip down to Tarifa where we could catch a ferry across the Strait of Gibraltar and over to Tangier, Morocco on the northern tip of Africa. The first big problem was arranging a ride back to Ronda so we could catch the train at the Ronda train station. Morocco was meant to be more “been there and done that” type of trip. We were already so close to the Strait of Gibraltar that to not set foot on a new continent would be a shame. Making it to the ferry was going to be the hard part. We had to make it back to Ronda in order to catch a 9:19 AM train and then make a connection for another train that would take us to a Algeciras where we would have to take a taxi to the hotel and then catch a bus to the town Tarifa further down the coast. All of this had to be done before noon. At each connection, we had about a 10 minute window otherwise we would miss the next connection and miss the ferry and all would be lost.

We found the same bus company that dropped us off near the hotel also operates a bus that runs twice a day from Grazalema to Ronda. The hard part was catching that bus. We were told if we stood out on the road, a yellow bus should pass around 8:15 AM and we could wave the driver down. And so that’s what we did. We rolled our luggage out to the road before daybreak and waited for the yellow bus. At 8:25 AM, I thought our day was doomed. Then we heard the bus come around the corner and jumped up and down, waving our arms in joy and flagging the driver down.

Waiting for the yellow bus to Ronda

Waiting for the yellow bus to Ronda

Luckily made all the tight connections and took the FRS Ferry across the Strait of Gibraltar and landed in Tangier later that day. Tangier happens to be in a different time zone (1 hour behind) even though it is only 8 miles from Spain and on a clear day you can see Africa from the Spanish coast. So we gained an extra hour to spend in Tangier.

Tangier gave us the advantage of experiencing Northern Africa and walking through the markets, eating the food, seeing the city and the people, and still being back in Spain at the end of the day. We quickly toured parts of the city which in some ways reminded me of San Francisco. At one of the parks, we paid a few euros to ride a camel and I led Nicole, Dylan and the camel around the streets for a few minutes.

Our new form of transportation

Our new form of transportation

For lunch, we ate at a local restaurant while a Moroccan quartet played music in the background. Nicole and I shared subtle looks of concern when the food was served but not Dylan. He will try anything. Whereas I had to wash the soup, meat kebabs and cous-cous down with a Coke, he ate and never complained. We spent more time browsing the various vendors and shops near one of the main markets. The people were very friendly but everybody was trying to sell us something. Often the price started at 20 euros when we walked in the door but by the time we had looked around and were leaving, the prices dropped to 5 euros. We were quickly exposed to a very different culture. It’s not often we see most of the men walking down the streets wearing kaftans. We encountered kids and adults on the streets with physical ailments that we normally don’t see and would have a difficult time describing.

We were only in Morocco for half the day and after enduring a lot of traveling in the morning, that half day proved to be enough. I’m glad we made the effort and took the ferry. There was nothing epic about the day but it was pretty special to have been able to put our feet on another continent and witness a completely different culture.

We spent the night back in Algeciras and there was nothing in Algeciras we wanted to see or do so we caught the train the next morning to Malaga. Since we could see the Rock of Gibraltar from Algeciras, I had hoped to take a run around the Rock of Gibraltar in the morning. However, when I looked on the map, there was no easy way to run there without going way out of the way. And I didn’t want to put another bag of wet clothes in our suitcase.

The area near Malaga had not been on our list of places to visit. We meant to spend a few days in Seville but a couple reasons changed our mind. We had gotten tired of exploring similar big cities and felt, although Seville had its own unique aspects, it would be similar to some of the Spanish cities we already visited. We were also looking at flying to Rome and Italy for a week or two. If you fly out of the right city and to the right destination, there are some unbelievable deals on European flights. The best deals we could find to Italy were from the Malaga airport. Also, given the choice of visiting an inland city versus a coastal city, the coastal city won easily.

So we booked a room in a hotel in Fuengirola, a beach town about 45 minutes south of Malaga by train. The clerk at the desk kindly gave us a queen bed with a rollaway for Dylan and we had a small private patio with views of the beach. We used the beach for playing catch and tried to swim but the water temperature in mid-October was too cold and we couldn’t last for more than 10 minutes. The area felt like the Florida of the Spanish Mediterranean. Lots of senior citizens and the younger and family crowd seemed to be a mix of locals and travelers from Great Britain.

Our first night there we wandered into the city’s carnival. It was 9 PM on a Sunday night, and it seemed the entire city had come out to celebrate at the carnival. Vendors were selling all types of Spanish food and treats. Chestnuts were being roasted and sold around every corner. We bought a serving and the vendor scooped a handful right from oven with his charcoaled stained hands and dropped them in a bag for us. It was the first time we had tasted roasted chestnuts. Nicole and Dylan liked them but they were too soft for me.

As we walked around and watched the kids having fun on the rides, a popular attraction and our favorite by far was the bull ride. The bull ride was three bulls. Each bull could hold about 5 riders each. The ride would start and the bull would start spinning and twisting and the kids tried to hang on. Music would be blasting and the announcer would shout words of encouragement to the kids in Spanish. It was a classic ride. Dylan rode it a couple times and it provided some of the best laughs.

Riding the bull at the carnival

Riding the bull at the carnival

Real estate seemed reasonable and the weather in October was ideal. I’m sure the summer months can be hot and humid but I can see the advantage of why so many people retire to this part of Spain.

The day before Dylan’s 8th birthday, we flew from Malaga to Rome. We took the train and public bus from the airport to the hotel, but that was a mistake. Google doesn’t have all the latest Italian public transportation data integrated into Google maps and there is no integration with the Rome metro system. So we were left with trying to get information and directions from the local Italians on the street. Big mistake. We had become pretty familiar and comfortable with the Spanish public transportation system but now we had to learn an entirely new system in a language completely different than Spanish. You might think that Italian and Spanish are fairly similar and one could get by in Italy with some Spanish. But don’t be fooled. If you try to ask something in Spanish pretending to have an Italian accent, you will receive the most dumbfounded stare and the Italian you are asking will most likely dismiss you with a wave of their hand. Eventually we found our way around, but they don’t make it easy. Just a few hours after arriving in Italy, we were already homesick from Spain.

We discovered most of the Italians we had to interact with were usually dismissive. The hosts at our hotels were terrific and some Italians were friendly, but we had more unfriendly encounters during a short stay in Italy than during all of our time in Spain. It may have been us. I’m also not a fan of the service charges Italian restaurants will add to your bill. Usually there’s a cover charge just to sit down and order. The cover charges usually start around 2 euros for each person. They will then bring you a basket of bread for the table before you have a chance to know what is going on. There’s goes another few euros as the bread is not gratis. Before you know it, 30% of your bill will be spent just on getting in the door and looking at a basket of bread you probably won’t eat.

For Dylan’s 8th birthday we toured the Roman Coliseum and the Roman Forum. There was a lot of walking on his birthday and a lot of history to process. In the midst of the crowds, it can be difficult to fully appreciate and grasp the significance of what was before our eyes. We learned about the lives of the gladiators and how the day would unfold at the coliseum during the Roman times. This was Nicole and my second time to Rome and the coliseum and the magnificence was not lost the second time around.

Dylan celebrating his 8th birthday inside the Roman Colosseum

Dylan celebrating his 8th birthday inside the Roman Colosseum

From the Forum area it was a short walk to the Pantheon and then it was time for Rome’s best gelato shop: Giolitti. It was the best we could do as a substitute for a birthday cake.

The next day we spent touring Castel Sant’Angelo and then taking a guided tour of the Vatican and the Sistine Chapel. The Vatican was overcrowded as expected. We spent nearly 4 hours walking through the Vatican and had about 10-15 minutes in the Sistine Chapel. You aren’t suppose to take pictures in the Sistine Chapel and you stand shoulder-to-shoulder with a few hundred people in silence, as there is no talking allowed except the shouts of the security guards yelling, “No cameras!”. As we stood there and stared at the ceiling, it was difficult to grasp what we were seeing. Everything was there, the art and its stories in its vibrant colors that took Michelangelo about 4 years to complete. Nothing else we saw that day compared to those few minutes staring up at the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. Still there is more to the Vatican than the Sistine Chapel. We walked down halls with incredible sculptures, art tapestries, other paintings and spent time in St. Peter’s Basilica where St. Peter is believed to be buried. By the end of the day, our feet were exhausted and our brains pounding from processing so much in the last couple days.

From Rome, we used the Italian train system to travel to Venice. It was only about a 5 hour train ride but try to avoid using the bathrooms on the Italian trains. Even in the 21st century, we found that when you flush the toilet on an Italian train, it empties right onto the tracks. So the recommendation is if you have to use the bathroom, it’s best to go when the train is moving.

In Italy, it's best to use the train's bathroom only when the train is moving as it empties directly on the tracks below

In Italy, it’s best to use the train’s bathroom only when the train is moving as it empties directly on the tracks below

In Venice, we stayed in the town of Quarto d’Antino at the Villa Odino. Quarto d’Antino is a little town only about a 20 minute train ride from of Venice. It was the ideal situation. It was a family run villa in the country that was quiet, relaxing and provided a delicious breakfast we looked forward to every morning. We found a large grassy area out back where we could play catch. A bike path ran along a river next to the hotel that I could follow in either direction for a run. We could take the train into Venice for the day and then come back in the evening.



We liked Quarto d’Antino so much that we stretched our stay to 6 days. We spent 3 days seeing Venice, Murano and Burano. The crowds in Venice weren’t my favorite but if we wandered off one of the main streets, we could experience a more peaceful atmosphere. For 2 of the days we bought a water taxi pass and could use any of the city run water taxis to jump from island to island. Part of the fun was just sitting back and taking one of the taxis though the canals and around the outside of Venice.

On Murano, we visited a glass blowing factory and watched a presentation of a few glass blowers at work. Some shops charge for the presentations and some are free. The free one showed us everything we needed to see. We watched as men in shorts and flip flops would dance around holding burning glass that was dripping from the poles held in their hands. This was glass they had just pulled from a furnace set to 2,200 degrees Fahrenheit. They’d swing and spin the poles in their hands to mold the glass then hold it up to their face and blow on it. I was wondering how many times they had burnt each other as it all seemed haphazard. There were no safety goggles, no protection suits, no gloves. In fact a few worked with a cigarette hanging from their lips. Yet they were masters in action and the finished products held so much more significance when we realized how Murano glass blown products are made.

Glass factory in Murano, Italy

Glass factory in Murano, Italy

We spent a few hours on the island of Burano. It’s known for the bright and colorful houses along the canals and streets. Much smaller than Venice and even a little smaller the Murano, there was not a lot to see on Burano after walking along the two main canals. We did find time for Dylan to take some pictures of Nicole and I using the bright colors as a nice backdrop.

Dylan taking a photo of Nicole and me in Burano, Italy

Dylan taking a photo of Nicole and me in Burano, Italy

Our days in Venice were more sublime than we could have predicted. We were looking forward to seeing Venice and had pictured Venice being a few streets along the waterfront with some canals flowing in and out of a few neighborhoods. But it is so much more and bigger than we thought. It’s one of those things that you can see in pictures, movies and read about but you have to see it in person to fully appreciate the beauty and allure.

After being in Spain and Italy, it finally hit me there’s Spanish time and then there’s Italian time. It’s common for many businesses to shut their doors in the middle of the day. In Spain this was siesta. Stores would often close at 2 PM and reopen at 4:30 PM or 5 PM. We got used to it. But in Italy we learned business days/hours are very flexible. Stores may choose not to open during the Monday morning hours even though their sign shows they are open Monday’s from 9:30 AM to 12:30 AM. When asked, the locals would tell us matter-of-factly that of course they are closed this Monday morning. Then they would say they “should” open in the afternoon. Some of restaurants in Quarto d’Antino don’t open on Tuesday. Why Tuesday’s? We had no idea but wished we did since we had walked to town on a Tuesday night to find dinner.

From Venice, we didn’t know where to go next. We struggled finding our next destination. Should we return to Barcelona? Go north to Austria or Switzerland? Take the train to Milano? We looked at a different options and in the end settled on taking a flight to Sardinia and then heading back to Barcelona. It was so inexpensive to fly to Sardinia from Venice and then we could get another very inexpensive flight from Sardinia back to Barcelona. By the time we added things up, it was about the same whether we went back to Barcelona and rented an apartment, or flew to Sardinia first then continued to Barcelona. So we booked flights on Ryanair and found a hotel for a few nights near Alghero on the Mediterranean coast of Sardinia. However, unbeknown to us at the time, this decision would also require another dip into the FUBAR Fund.

When we arrived at the Venice airport to catch our flight on Ryanair, we arrived 1 hour and 50 minutes ahead of the scheduled departure time. We were proud as this was well ahead of our typical arrive within a 30 minute window of takeoff. When we walked up to the check-in counter, we were informed there would be a charge of 150 euro “convenience fee” that Ryanair charges to check-in at the airport. To avoid paying the convenience fee, we should have checked-in online when we purchased our tickets. It’s all spelled out in their terms and conditions in very fine print somewhere on their website. There was no way to avoid paying the “convenience fee” as we needed to catch our flight. So we had to go to the FUBAR Fund. It cost us more to check-in at the airport than it did to purchase the tickets!

Our time in Sardinia, much like many of our other stops in coastal towns, was perfect. The weather held the entire time we stayed. The El Faro Hotel was situated on the edge of a picturesque bay and within a national park. And this park was more like the park I was expecting back in Grazalema. There were miles of trails that I could run through the park and follow the coastline.

A trail near in Sardinia near our hotel

A trail near in Sardinia near our hotel

The coastline was very much like the coastline near our apartment in Ibiza. It was a rocky coastline with some flat areas and we could sit and enjoy the views for hours. Dylan and I jumped in the sea for a swim but only lasted a few minutes. In the summer months, I could imagine the area full of swimmers jumping off the rocks and playing in the water.

Dylan swimming at the beach at the El Faro Hotel

Dylan swimming at the beach at the El Faro Hotel

The hotel included breakfast, but we were on our own for lunch and dinner. The hotel did have a restaurant but since dinner was 25 euros each, I couldn’t justify spending almost 75 euros each night just for dinner. Since we had no car, I’d walk into town and buy some bread, cheeses, meat and drinks and we would have dinner on the beach at sunset. At night, we would sleep with the door open so we could listen to the waves hitting the beach. We will be soon heading home with our suitcases stuffed with memories, and Sardinia was a good one.

Sardinia had never been on our radar and it was a last minute addition but we were so glad we decided to make the trip. Our flight back to Barcelona left from a different airport on Sardinia, the Cagliari airport on the opposite side of the island. I had no idea how big the island of Sardinia was. I was miffed when I found that a taxi was going to cost around 350 euro just to get to the airport. Again, we used the bus system and found a bus that went from Alghero to Cagliari and only took 4 hours. It worked out since there was only a midmorning bus and our flight left in the evening. And this time we had already checked-in for our Ryanair flight so we were good to go. We caught our flight and landed in Girona, Spain later that night.

We had driven past Girona on our way to Costa Brava back in August but skipped stopping in town. From the highway, back in August, it didn’t look like much. My image of Girona was a small and quaint mountain town set on the edge of the Pyrenees mountains. It is close to the Pyrenees but Girona is more flat and rests in a valley between a couple mountain ranges.

Since our flight on Ryanair flew into Girona instead of directly into Barcelona, we stayed the night in Girona and spent the next day walking through Girona’s old town. To my surprise, it was more what I had envisioned. The old town was filled with narrow cobblestone streets and alleys, kept clean of litter, garbage and graffiti. We found a café, La Fabrica, for coffee and some baked goods that catered to the local cycling crowd. It rained most of the day we were in Girona which limited the amount of walking and exploring we could do with the little time we had. Had I brought my bike, it might have been a good spot to rent an apartment for a few weeks and do some riding and running in the mountains.

That afternoon we took the train from Girona into Barcelona and settled into our last apartment in the Gracia neighborhood. We’ve been most happy here and are disappointed our time is coming to an end. The last week has been spent catching up on the things we missed while we were here a couple months ago. We finally made it out to Montserrat. And finally bit the bullet and scheduled some time to wait in line for the Picasso museum (best time to go is in the morning).

The cable car to Montserrat

The cable car to Montserrat

I’ve finally had time to sit at the computer and start to digest the past few months. And we’ve had to dip into the FUBAR Fund a couple more times before heading home. Over the weekend, we were riding the metro to the Funny Car races on Mt. Juic and someone pickpocketed my wallet with about $200 and all my credit cards and ID. The metro was packed and I let my guard down. It could have been anyone and happened in just a few short minutes. In fact, it could have been the unsuspecting old lady pretending to read a newspaper next to me. I had received all new cards just before the trip. Why the United States credit cards companies did not go with the chip and PIN system with the new cards is beyond me. Had my credit cards been secured with a PIN, my anxiety would have decreased the hour or two after having my cards stolen. The next day something bumped into Nicole’s purse and cracked her relatively new S6 Edge’s screen. So it was an expensive weekend. Our FUBAR Fund is now nearly empty so we can’t afford any more mishaps.

I imagine life as a sort of TV show and we are director, actor and audience. When time allows we sit back, turn on the show and watch our lives unfold before our eyes. Love. Pain. Joy. Sadness. Victories. Defeats. Reflections. Lessons. It’s all there for us to touch and experience. We can script what we, the actors, say and do. Hopefully the director side of us points us in the right direction and we find the script and storyline captivating and rewarding. No one wants to watch the same storyline over and over and over. What are you doing today? Pretty much what I did yesterday. What you are doing this weekend? Pretty much what I did last weekend. What are you doing this year? Pretty much what I did last year. If I’m capturing the same scene over and over, week after week and year after year, I’m wasting the one opportunity I have to script our story. When I find it too predictable or monotonous, it’s time for a change. If some consider this a luxury they cannot afford, they are mistaken. The locations may differ, the props may change, but your life is telling a story. Make it a story you will remember and be proud to have directed, lived and experienced. Life is a series of trade-offs. Saying Yes to one thing means saying No to something else.

There are a lot of things we had to skip this year and purchases we didn’t make. The number one reason why we shouldn’t have done what we just did is that it’s what you do when you are older, retired and your kids have grown. But what a mistake it would have been to wait. So many times the past few months, Nicole and I have been walking hand-in-hand down a cobblestone street with Dylan running off ahead or trailing behind, our feet tired and our brains a little over processed. Yet we’ve repeatedly turned to each other and said in those moments and said how lucky we are that we did this now.

When To Step Away From A Successful Career

Our Adventure Begins

Our Adventure Begins

It’s 5:30 PM Friday night and I’m trying to finish up my last day at work. It’s just me in my home office, a large but mainly empty room at the end of the hall at the far end of our home. I have a view out my window of the dry and golden hills out back dotted with oaks roasting in the day. And I’ve reached the end of the line. July 31st, 2015 is the date my computer displays. It’s hot outside, just a degree or two shy of 100 degrees. Seems like the entire State of California has been set on fire this week and a low band of smoky haze sits right above the distant hills to the north. I often look forward to winter when I can open the window and code to the sound of raindrops falling on the burgundy Japanese Maple which now filters my view and gently reminds me it needs to be trimmed. I lift my hands off the keyboard and my fingers land on the mouse. I hit the Send button thinking I’ve just sent my final work email then power down my company issued laptop. No one to call and no time left for more emails, I slip on a pair of running shoes and head out for a short 30 minute run to start shedding the 20 pounds I’ve gained the last couple of years.

Four months ago I decided the time had come to take a break from the only career I’ve known since college. My 44-year-old body now resembles the body of a middle-aged dad who has shifted priorities away from physical training to something that rewards in different ways. The sharp lines my body once followed have evolved into bumps and handles. The long hours of sitting at my desk and lunch rides postponed now appear more and more evident. I’m not the man I once was and that is a good thing.

I’ve poured nearly everything into work for the last 20 years and for the last 7 years I knew this time would come. In fact, 7 years ago I had come to this same decision and at the time told the company I would leave at the end of that year. But that year our little company was bought by a bigger company and I needed to stay for another year. I waffled in my decision and a year turned into 2 then 3 as new projects surfaced and I kept delaying the decision. But at the start of each year, I would remind myself it needed to be the last. I’d tempt myself with thoughts of slipping away by the end of year. I’d mention this to a few friends and talk about the importance of refocusing but another year would pass and I’d be back in the same place each year. None the wiser.

So four months ago I picked up the phone and called work and said my last day would be July 31st. I had finally made the decision. I’m not lucky enough to have a job that offers a sabbatical. We don’t have a trust fund to rely on. Nicole and I worked hard early in and throughout our marriage to help our financial situation later in our life. Leaving a well-paying job at 44 years old to wander the world is a gamble. When I made the call and shared my reason for leaving, I’m sure it was not convincing. No, I wasn’t leaving for another company. No, I wasn’t unhappy with work. Having a great team and good relationships with my development team made this decision even more difficult. The time had come to step away and pursue something else for a time. I was both relieved and scared. Yet, scared as I was and still am, I know I made the right decision. Or it could be the worst decision of my life… I’m not a gambling man, but I have a feeling the odds are in our favor. It’ll be alright.

We could have waited another 5 years to fulfill these dreams. There’s always a reason to put change on hold. Work has been challenging. Nicole’s never been busier with her photography. Dylan is starting 2nd grade. There’s a ton of reasons to keep doing what we’ve been doing. Things are going well so why upset the apple cart. Dylan’s at the age when he should remember big events in his life. And when he looks back at being 7 and 8 years old, he should have an entire suitcase full of memories. For us, this will challenge us. I’m sure there will be times we will find ourselves lost and confused and we’ll need to find our way. Yet that is what excites me about this journey: getting a little lost as a family.

John Lennon’s famous quote of “Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.” reminded me sometimes the best events are those that are unplanned. I can talk a good game and say all the things I plan to do, but unless those plans come to fruition then I’m just talk. I realized for the past few years I had been doing a lot of talking. Now it’s time to do something completely different for change.

Some events in life prove to be game changers. Pivot points. Instead of following your same proven pattern over and over, you decide to do something completely different. You pivot. Your perspective on life completely changes. For me, change can be difficult and slow and it has taken a while reach this point. Yet, finally, we have arrived. Or rather, finally, we are starting.

Our bags are packed and our first stop will be Norway and then we will make more permanent roots in Barcelona. For the first time since graduating college, I’m unemployed. I don’t know what will be next. I enjoy software development and if I miss it too much while away, then I’ll know it’s what I should be doing when I return. I’m still too young to sit idle and I still want to build things.

I’m constantly reminding Dylan that no matter what he does in life, just be a maker. Build/make something. It doesn’t have to be related to software or computers. It can be machines, buildings, pictures, stories, music. Just be a maker. And I need to be an example and still make and build things. So I’m not done yet. As to what lies ahead and where we will end up, I haven’t given it much thought. But I will. That is what the next few months are all about.

Why I’ve Stepped Back From Racing and the Hidden Fees of All That Training

To have more time for late afternoon fishing with Dylan at Folsom Lake

To have more time for late afternoon fishing with Dylan at Folsom Lake

“We are what we repeatedly do.” – Aristotle

When I started to analyze the racing events I was doing, I uncovered some hidden costs that were never disclosed in the entry fees. A marathon/ultramarathon/ironman can range anywhere from $100-$700 but quickly increase if you need to travel, pay airfare and stay in a hotel. A monumental race like Race Across America is around $3,000 for the entry fee, but my out-of-pocket costs were closer to $20,000. In the beginning, the experiences were well worth it. I usually made some new friends, learned a little something about myself and added another finisher’s medal to my collection. But at some point, I started to realize the price of these events was more than just money. There were hidden fees for which I never wrote a check but still had to pay – things like time, energy, missing other family activities. When I began to add up everything it hit me: the price was more than I wanted to spend.

Everyone’s experience and journey is different and some might classify me as a quitter. But how many marathons do I have to run to prove I can run 26.2 miles without stopping? If running 50 marathons doesn’t prove the point, then I don’t think running 51 or even 100 would do the trick either. How about if I became an Ironman, would that do it? Apparently not, because I’ve done that too but still felt I had something left to prove. So I committed myself to something truly epic and entered the Western States 100 mile run. What if I ran 100 miles in less than 24 hours, surely that would be enough? Nope. Every time I crossed a finish line, the satisfaction would stick around for only a few days before I was out trying to find my next event. I kept having to upstage the previous race. How about riding a bicycle 200 miles nonstop? 508 miles? 3,000 miles? I did that too and was still left trying to satisfy the hunger.

I think pedaling a bicycle 3,000 miles in Race Across America finally gave me the time to come to terms with myself. I proved to myself that we can push our bodies and our minds to accomplish more than we imagine. We can chase and achieve our dreams. Now I feel I don’t need to keep proving it over and over. But for years, having to prove it over and over was part of the lure. After the race was over, the euphoria would fade and I was left feeling I needed to do it again. I needed to start training for my next event. I still had to convince myself I had what it takes. Just getting to the starting line of something like Race Across America required a focus so intense and selfish that most other areas of my life had to suffer. Ironmans/ultras/marathons all require a similar level of intense focus and training. Saying “Yes” to one thing meant saying “No” to something else and when I realized what I was missing and saying “No” to, the true cost of all that racing and training proved too much.

I love a good race and battling it out to the finish line. And I believe training and racing instills positive traits that carry over to other aspects of a successful life. But life must stay balanced. I don’t want to be the dad missing my son’s events because I’m married to work or constantly training for my next race. In the midst of Ironman training last year, I made it a point to schedule Saturdays around Dylan’s soccer games. I squeezed in rides before or after but was always there for the whole game. Same with baseball games and practice. When I had to ask myself which one to choose or which one took priority, I knew something was wrong. Why is missing my son’s soccer game to go for a bike ride even an option I’m considering?

I could justify it and say all that training gave me a healthier body. I absolutely need to exercise both the mind and body. For me, running is therapeutic. Yet, where is the point of diminishing returns? Exercising 45-60 minutes a day is going to give me a healthy body. Anything more is overdoing it. Using the minimum effective approach, if I need to boil water and water boils at 212 degrees, what do I gain by boiling water at 300 degrees? I’m wasting energy. And that’s what it came down to for me, I was wasting my time and energy training for so many long hours. The water already boiled. I already proved I could do it. I need about 45-60 minutes a day of exercise a day to maintain some level of health and fitness. The danger for me is when I try to convince myself the more the better. In this case, more is not necessarily better. Most often I just want to spend a few free minutes running in the mountains under the pines clearing my thoughts instead of worrying about who I’m chasing and who’s chasing me.

Heading out to clear the mind

Heading out to clear the mind

I’m a creature of habit and routine and training can become an addiction. I’ve never used or been addicted to alcohol, nicotine or drugs (although Nicole and Dylan will say I’m addicted to Starbucks and Chipotle). But when running got to the point that I couldn’t say no to missing a training run or not doing a race, then I realized I had my own addiction problem. Sure, it might be a healthy addiction, but I’m not sure any addiction is all that healthy. Unable to say “No”, doing the same races over and over, year after year, made me feel like a slave. Races like Ironman are not merely races, they are lifestyles. Be prepared to sacrifice. Every time I signed up for a big race, it was not only me making a sacrifice, it was the entire family. They’re noble events and I’m glad I did them. Now we can move on. I don’t want it to be the thing that consumes some of the best years of our life. Now I’ll have the freedom to channel and focus some of that time and energy to invest in someone and something else.

For me, that investment is already paying off. Lately, hitting a couple baskets of tennis balls after work with Dylan is more rewarding than adding another finishing time to the list. Being at one of his events and watching him in his element is proving more rewarding than I could have ever imagined. At one of his recent swim meets while Nicole and I were in the stands and watching, more butterflies bounced around in my stomach as Dylan stepped up to his starting block than I’ve ever had at the start of an Ironman. We were so nervous for him. We watched and cheered, squeezed each others’ hands as he swam from one end to the other. Racing, he appears so relaxed. I’m up on my tip toes and my insides are in knots. We are hoping, no matter what, he’s going to finish happy and with a positive attitude and climb out of that pool with a smile dripping off his face. And that’s where I am these days. A 4 mile run together beats an 8 mile run alone. Playing a little tennis together after work and chasing down his shots is pure joy. Riding our bikes to the lake and watching Dylan fish and untangling his line brings more happiness than if were out by myself and training for my own event.

When I was younger, I would imagine crossing the finish line with my family in the stands as they proudly cheer me on. At some point the dream changed. Now I want to be the one cheering them on as they cross their own finish lines. Give it some time and maybe I’ll need to toe the start line again. I still love hitting a trail for a run, but if you don’t see me racing/pacing at some of the events, hopefully you’ll understand why.

Some of the Best Moments of My Day

The joy of playing catch

The joy of playing catch

The direction of this blog might change over the next 12-24 months as I start to explore more of what is happening in our life and where my thoughts take me. At times there may be no connection to any sporting event or race. As in life, balance is key. I enjoy the freedom and energy going for a simple run can infuse in me and sharing about where those journeys take me. However there are other things to discover and explore. Two nights a week I’m coaching Dylan’s Little League team and the the other nights we are playing tennis or hitting the trails. So many other things consume my life and time and yet I find I seldom write about those things. Not because they are unimportant, but the introspective life can be more work and take more time. The next 12-24 months will be a work in progress. Although part of me wishes to know exactly where we will go and how we will get there, the better part of me knows the uncertainty and discovery of the journey will be the best part.

A constant battle has been taking place, deep in the back of my mind. Once reserved for the daydreams of a working boy, my mind now more closely resembles the cluttered desk of a middle aged man trying to find his way through life. I’m on a mission to simplify our life but finding simplicity has proven so complicated. I’ve been lucky up to this point to enjoy a front row seat to the journey of my life and chase after my dreams. And, for me, it’s been pretty remarkable to watch the story unwind the way it has. At this point, it’s hard to imagine life any different but I know there have been countless times when it could have taken a different turn. Now, I feel we are nearing the point where we will make another turn and start another chapter in our life. Life is about to pivot.

I grew up in a family that struggled to make ends meet. It was not uncommon for us to have a can of gasoline stashed in the back of our car, just in case we ran out of gas. The smell of gasoline and oil-stained rags along with the sight of a banged up red steel can behind the front seats reminded me things were tight. We didn’t run out of gas that often, but it happened enough that I remember walking along the shoulder of Highway 101 a few times with my dad in search of the nearest service station to get enough fuel to make it home. If we didn’t run out of gas, it was more likely our car was going to overheat. To prevent this, next to the red gas can we’d line gallons of water that we would use to refill the radiator when the temperature gauge started leaning too close to the H. Other times, our car would just break down with no warning. Leaving for school, the car might not start for my mom. We would need to push the car down the driveway until it was rolling fast enough to pop the clutch. I remember when I was probably only 5 or 6 years old, my mom paying for groceries with food stamps. It only happened a few times but even as a little kid I knew we were struggling. The living pay check to pay check, buying on layaway instead of with credit and seeing my parents pay $15 fees for bouncing $5 checks was how I grew up. More than a few times our checks were rejected at the checkout line because our name was on a list. There was always that feeling when getting in line with a full cart, “I hope they accept our check.” We were penalized over and over with what I call the “poor man’s tax”.

Our Home In Windsor, CA

My Childhood Home In Windsor, CA

Writing a check for $5 only to have it returned for insufficient funds and then paying a $15 fee is a poor man’s tax. Having to take out a car loan at 13% in order to buy a used car for $1000 in order to drive to work and back is a poor man’s tax. Frequently paying bills late and incurring a late fee each time is a poor man’s tax. The poor man doesn’t know his own actions are taxing and stealing his precious income. He works so hard only to lose his money by his own undoing. While the rich man earns money in his sleep with his investments paying dividends, the poor man is usually living one paycheck behind and instead of receiving interest from savings and dividends from investments, the poor man repeatedly finds himself in a predicament where he owes money that he hasn’t even earned, and he burdens himself with unnecessary debt. Like an albatross hung around his neck, his unnecessary debt weighs him down. And too often, the poor man mistakenly believes the debt weighing him down is going to make him rich. The debt burden is often hidden from our neighbors. We are often fooled into thinking someone is rich because they have the appearance of being well off. You can’t tell if most of what they have has been purchased with borrowed money. Most people can tell if you are 50 lbs overweight. However, there’s no outward sign if have $50K in credit card debt. Read “The Millionaire Next Door” by Thomas J. Stanley and William D. Danko and it might change your perception of wealth.

Growing up, we could have been the face of the working class. My dad always had a job. We weren’t living on unemployment but things were always tight. For the most part, kids don’t know what they don’t have so we didn’t grow up thinking we were missing something. For better or for worse, the path our life took was just that, it was my parents putting their stamp on life and it’s what made it so memorable for me. I remember a few times thinking there must be an easier path but as the saying goes, “You don’t know what you don’t know.” The earliest memory I have of my dad working was when he worked in the laundry room at Memorial Hospital in Santa Rosa, washing and drying the linens and uniforms. When Hewlett Packard opened some of their manufacturing in Santa Rosa, he started working at HP until I finished high school. I give my dad a lot of credit for working hard throughout my childhood. They weren’t dream jobs but they provided the means to get through the week.

Hewlett Packard was a union job and, for my dad, being part of the union was the best part of working there. I’m not sure it mattered if the work was challenging, the pay good and there was advancement potential, being a union member was the main decision factor when considering job opportunities. And once you had a union job you secured your future. Why would you ever consider any other job? Later when I started working at Safeway during high school, my dad thought my future was secured. Why would I ever need to work anywhere else besides Safeway? At 16 I had landed a union job. I was set for the next 50 years.

My Mongoose Bike For Delivering Papers

My Mongoose Bike For Delivering Papers

I began my own working career in 5th grade delivering newspapers. For the next 4 years I stuffed, folded and delivered newspapers across town on my bicycle. I’d carry a backpack style sack full of newspapers that was filled front and back with papers. Just getting a full load balanced on my shoulders while riding a bike was a workout. From 5th grade, I’ve always had a job save for a few gaps during college. For the most part, I’ve kept my head down and tried to stay focused on working hard and not being hit by the “poor man’s tax”. Already, it’s been 30+ years of working and sometimes I’m tired from all those years. I’m still challenged with work and am drawn to technology and software but it can be exhausting. When my dad came home from work, he too was exhausted.

While my dad went to work, the work came to my mom. Growing up, her job meant running a day care center out of our house. My parents had only two biological kids, my younger brother and I, but it felt like we always had a house full of kids. And I’m sure in some way battling for my mom’s attention against lots of other kids when I was younger, left me wanting a smaller family of my own. We had kids coming at 7 in the morning and leaving at 6 at night. Weekends were sometimes spent watching a special needs child so his/her parents could get a brief few hours of respite. Looking back, it was all a noble cause but at the time it felt like I was missing something. At times I longed for a more normal family and I can remember telling my mom I thought she cared more about the other kids than me. I was not a neglected child. Maybe I should have viewed the situation with more compassion and perspective, but at the time I just wished things were different.

It seemed being around kids is what energized her. Her work was a true labor of love. The money was not enough, the hours were long and there were never any days off. My mom loved her work. She would have made a terrific grandmother and would have claimed our guest bedroom as her own to spend time with Dylan.

Running a daycare out of our home gave my mom some extra income. I doubt my parents were working to be wealthy. With two kids and a mortgage, most of the time they were just trying to make it to payday. MacGregor was our Nike. I’d browse the Santa Rosa Kmart sporting department gazing at the latest MacGregor tennis shoes and then hand over $5 to put a pair of white and red MacGregor shoes on layaway. Layaway: another poor man’s tax. You hand over your money in exchange for nothing more than a promise you can buy the item later. You give them your earnings so they can use that money to earn interest while “holding” the item for you to pay in full later. Since we didn’t have a credit card, layaway was one of our preferred methods of funding a purchase.

Many childhood memories revolve around the family car. For years, my mom wanted a baby blue Ford Pinto, the car also known as an exploding gas tank on 4 wheels. Due to the placement of the gas tank at rear of the vehicle, stories of the Ford Pinto exploding if hit from behind were popular in the news. But the cars seem to hold their popularity. We finally upgraded our VW bug to a 2 door baby blue Ford Pinto (the one in the picture). Ours had a passenger door that wouldn’t close unless you lifted the door while slamming the door closed. This meant that you could really only close the door from the outside where you could get a get hold, then lift and slam. So either the driver would have to lift and close the passenger door then walk around and get in. Or, what became more popular, was the passenger would open the door and let the kids jump in the backseat. Then the passenger would roll down the window, lift and slam the door shut before getting in and finally crawl in through the window. It was our own version of the Dukes and Hazards’ General Lee.

I don’t think, growing up, we ever emerged from living paycheck to paycheck. It was the sort of life that was hard. Not too hard. Just hard enough to make you appreciate the good things and the easier times when they came. What’s hard to know is what part of those experiences made me who I am today. We want to provide our kids with some of the opportunities we missed out when growing up, but will this only soften them? It is hard to say. But the one thing I know for sure is when I ask myself what I would change, it is I wish I had a father who wanted to be involved in my life and who was there for advice, wisdom and even the occasional “Nice job!”

Which, in a round about way, bring us to the pivot. For 20 years, we’ve had the pressures of mortgages, car payments and bills like everyone else. And for many of those early years, it felt like Nicole and I had multiple jobs. Our day job was in the office, then our evening and weekend job was working on a house to improve it through sweat equity or work on a rental property. Some times we were stretched to the max. I remember after living in one of our houses for a year we still had no money to furnish the place beyond a few things here and there. My mom flew out to visit. She walked in our front door with a friend and the friend, surveying the empty living and dining rooms honestly asks, “Oh this is nice, when do you move in?” After a year of living in the house, our paychecks were going to mortgages and renovations and in a 2,700 square foot house we had furnishings for only about 500 square feet. But we survived and in a few years we sold that house and that proved a game changer for us. By the time we were in our 30’s, we had bought 7 homes and sold 5, making a profit on all but one.

We are the first to say that we benefited from the luck of timing and the support and advice of good friends. So much of life is determined by timing. We could be on the right path just at the wrong time. For the most part, knowing when to do something is hardest part of the decision. In most decisions, it comes down to imagining where we want to be in 2 or 5 or 10 years and then making the decisions to try and get us there. And benefiting from lucky timing.

Nearly 10 years ago, for our 10 year anniversary, we bought a cabin in the Lake Tahoe area. It was a dream come true for me. The best place on earth is in the mountains, breathing the thin mountain air, smelling the pine needles and exploring the endless trails. I’d gone from growing up in a tiny house on 732 Park Glen Drive in Windsor to writing pharmacy software, having rental properties and having a cabin in the woods. I thought we would have our cabin for the rest of our lives and it would be a place where Dylan and I would share mountain bike rides and summer hikes.

We are always looking ahead and trying to imagine where we want to be and what we want to working on in 2 or 5 years. Last year, we sat down in January and it became clear that in order to do what we want to do in the next few years, we should sell our cabin the woods. So we made the decision to sell one dream in order to chase another. The decision was truly a bittersweet one. We had so many good memories and plans but dreams change over time and we realized closing one door was going to open some other doors for us down the road. It took a while but we sold our cabin (at a loss – timing is everything) and paid off the mortgage on our house to be completely debt free.

At 43 years old, we are at a place very different than where my parents where when they were in the 40’s. I have a relationship with my son that I don’t think I ever had with my dad. I don’t see myself as just a provider. The decisions we have made over the past few years are ones that will hopefully translate into spending more time together. I don’t need a bigger house or a faster car or another finisher’s medal. I’ve had my fill. Dreams can shift and our dreams will likely shift again. We’ve decided to pass on the dream house we had in the mountains. At 43, the thing I hope to find is a little more time. More time with my wife and son. At the end of the day, right now my dream is to play some catch with my son. When I ask, “Hey, how about some catch?” and his eyes light up and he yells “Yea!”. Those moments are often some of my favorite parts of the day.


A New Garmin 620 Watch And A Pair Of Shoes

My Favorite New Shoes Are The New Balance 1010RD

My Favorite New Shoes Are The New Balance 1010RD

I’ve made two equipment upgrades that have been worthwhile enough to mention. Next to my garage door sits a shoe rack with about 6 different pair of running shoes. I have shoes best left for muddy runs, rocky trails, a pair waiting for a marathon, one for the summer when I can smell the oak leaves roasting in the warm sun, another when a soft ride is important and the rest are my grab ’em and go pairs. I’m trying to simplify my shoe collection and get down to one or two that I can take with me and wear no matter what. Something light, that can be worn with or without socks and can be used on the trails or pavement. And I think I might be down to a single solution. The New Balance 1010RD is my new favorite running shoe.

I’m surprised because I wasn’t a big follower of the minimalist running movement. This shoe is not a “barefoot” style shoe but it does have only a 4 MM drop. Yet there is some bounce in the shoe and it is light, incredibly comfortable without (and with) socks and feels great on both the trail and pavement. I’m not sure how they would feel for 26.2 miles on the road but so far they feel great after a some runs of 7 to 8 miles.

I picked a pair up for $40 from the New Balance Outlet store and already have stashed a couple extra pairs away.

My other upgrade is a new watch. I’ve been trying out the new Garmin 620 watch and this will be my new watch. I had been eyeing the new Garmin 220 and 620 when they were announced last October but thought I’d be frustrated with only half the battery life of my 310XT (rated at about 20 hours per charge). Both the 220 and 620 claim about 10 hours of battery life when recording. But I’ve been more and more frustrated with 310XT ANT syncing and having to carry 2 watches: a daily watch to tell the time and then a “running/GPS” watch. However when I really thought about it, I realized I don’t need more than 10 hours of recording. 90% of my runs are about an hour and so I stopped worrying about having enough battery life for the exception. If the need arises where I might require up to 20 hours of recording, then I can pull out the 310XT or I’m sure Garmin will soon release an 910 upgrade.

After using the new 620 for about a week, I’m sold on this watch. For one, I’m down to a single watch. No more wearing a watch during the day and then switching to a different running GPS watch. The 620 is both a watch and GPS tracker. It doesn’t stand out or draw attention like some of the other tracking watches. And when it is not in recording mode, the battery lasts days. So within a few minutes after a run, it goes into a low power mode and only displays the date/time. Then the next time I head out for a run, I resume from the lower power mode and start recording. I was able to go 5 days between charges using it as a watch and during those 5 days I recorded about an hour run each day.

For me, the main reason for going with the 620 over the 220 was the built-in wifi on the 620. Being able to walk in the door and have the watch upload via my wifi without requiring an ANT+ connection has simplified the process. Also firmware updates are automatically downloaded. This is a natural evolution of the Garmin watches and I’m not sure why it took so long to integrate wifi. It’s too bad the 220 doesn’t offer the wifi or that would be a terrific deal. The extra $200 for wifi can be hard to justify.

The 620 has other upgrades too and if you are a data junky they might be more important to you. Along with the new heart rate monitor, the watch measures V02 Max, cadence, vertical oscillation and ground contact time. After a week of normal running, my cadence is about 167 steps per minute, about 10.5 centimeters vertical oscillation and around 225 milliseconds ground contact time. Both the vertical oscillation and ground contact time are only measured when wearing the new heart rate monitor. And at the end of each run when wearing the heart rate monitor, the watch will perform a V02 max calculation. I’m not sure how accurate this is, but it has calculated mine at 57. The watch also includes a race predictor to predict your finishing times from distances from a 5K to a marathon. No 100 miler predictor yet for you ultra runners.

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I’m pretty sure I couldn’t run a 2:53 marathon right now, but the encouraging prediction is impressive and provides some hope. My Garmin Connect page updated with more data points when it detected the new watch. I was curious if Strava would incorporate any of the new watch features. I uploaded an activity to Strava and it looked the same to me as if I had used the 310XT.

Overall, I’d give the 620 two thumbs up and would recommend it. If you are out running 12 hours on Saturday and Sunday, you might need to wait for the 910XT upgrade. For me, I’m more than happy I made the switch. The extra data isn’t that important to me but having wifi is a game changer.

The Path to Ironman Lake Tahoe

Swim Start of Ironman Lake Tahoe 2013

Swim Start of Ironman Lake Tahoe 2013

The last race is often the hardest and toughest. The pain is fresh and the wounds still open. But give it time to settle, let the bruised spirit heal and the pain will soon fade. The day will eventually find its resting spot along with a list of other distant races, all tagged with a lasting epitaph to eternalize the hard fought battles won and lost. “Here Lies IMLT 2013…”

The path I followed to the Ironman Lake Tahoe race proved to be the right one for me. 11 hours was the mark I had somehow set in my head (1:20 swim, 5:50 bike and a 3:40 run with 10 minutes of transitions). I wouldn’t be honest if I didn’t say I would be very happy with 11 hours. That was it. It seemed doable. Sure, faster would be better, but I knew better than to set unrealistic expectations. I decided early on that I wouldn’t be upset with any result as long as I worked hard throughout the day, had a good time and kept life and the race in perspective. Complacent? Apathetic? No. Just had to keep my priorities in check.

About a month and a half out from the race, my training was pretty limited. In fact there was no regular training except my evening runs. I was running about 40-45 miles a week and that was it. Plus I rode my bike about once a week for an hour. I was/am nowhere near any peak performance level. However, to survive the Ironman distance, I knew that I needed to increase my training effort. Luckily, my buddy Bob Shebest, a certified triathlon coach, called me and said he was going to work with me. We talked it over and I said I could commit to about 10 hours a week. Miracously, he devised a 6-7 week training plan, with long rides on Saturday and long runs on Sunday. This was the exact opposite of what I would have planned as I would have preferred to run on fresh legs on Saturday and recover on the bike on Sunday. Yet his reason of riding then running was to replicate race conditions. Once he explained it, the light went on.

Having someone plan my training helped settle any anxiety. I’d get a list of the workouts at the beginning of the week: always 6 days with one complete rest day. Weekdays were light with the longest weekday workout being a 90 minute ride on Wednesday evenings. Saturdays and Sundays seemed to be the bulk of the long riding and running efforts. For the most part I was able to stick with the plan but missed a few sessions here and there. Sometimes I would come home from a ride and grab Dylan for a 30 minute run. I only rode and ran the first 3 weeks, and then Bob started throwing in the swim sessions. Like a good coach, he started pestering: “How about a swim session this week?” “Any chance of running or biking to the lake then cooling off with a swim?” “You really need to swim!” Finally, with about 3 weeks to go, I hit Lake Clementine and Folsom Lake after work.

Week Bike Miles Bike Hours Run Miles Run Hours Swim Yards Swim Hours Total Hours
1 63.0 3:12 43.5 5:32 8:44
2 117.2 6:42 46.6 5:43 12:25
3 108.0 6:03 43.3 5:37 11:40
4 71.8 3:45 46.2 5:38 9:23
5 110.1 5:38 28.1 3:33 9:11
6 83.7 4:30 39.1 5:07 1778.6 0:51 10.28
7 112.8 5:57 30.5 3:53 2356.9 0:53 10:43
8 51.3 2:37 8.2 0:58 0:30 4:05

Lee McKinley and I were able to ride together twice during this period. We rode one lap of the course on one weekend, and 3 weeks out rode two laps (both times we skipped the Martis section), followed by a 12 mile run on the marathon course. I always enjoy the time Lee and I are able to train together and when he started to pull away from me on our last training climb up Brockway, it was obvious he was ready. That was pretty much it. We were also dealing with smoke for a few weeks from some California wildfires so there were days that I skipped as it was just too unhealthy and risky. For the most part I kept it simple. Not that it was easy. Wednesday rides finished in the dark. Instead of doing something fun Friday after work, I would spend an hour or two on the bike then meet Nicole and Dylan for dinner. And most rides concluded with a short run, which kept reminding the legs to expect to do some running after riding. I also paced the 3:15 group at the Santa Rosa Marathon in August, which fit right into the training schedule and load. However, I felt pretty lucky to have to put in only 6 weeks of dedicated training.

Everybody has their own approach to preparation. I knew Ironman Lake Tahoe was not going to be easy. I was racing against myself and the course. I wasn’t racing anyone else. Success would equal a satisfying effort and a time of around 11 hours. It could be lesson for my son about working hard and not giving up, but let’s face it, at the end of the day his concerns are Legos and The Wild Kratts. There’s a large gap between something like an Ironman and a 5 year old. And that’s the way we prefer it.

I took Friday off work and we went up to Truckee on Thursday night. Friday morning I drove to King’s Beach for a 30 minute swim to test the wetsuit and goggles. I knew I was in trouble when I was walking past the TYR tent on the beach and this guys says, “Hey man! You can’t swim in that surfing wetsuit. Do yourself a favor and try one of these on.” He starts pointing out all the things that are wrong with my equipment. I’m immediately out of my element. You mean there are swimming wetsuits? One of the things about triathlon is how easy it is to become consumed in the triathlon world. Before you know it, the unimportant becomes very important even though it’s not that important at all.

Friday's morning swim in Lake Tahoe

Friday’s morning swim in Lake Tahoe

After 5 minutes, I thank him for his wisdom and ask if the white buoys running out from the beach mark the swim course.

“White buoys?” he asks.

“Yea, the white buoys out there.” I say, squinting and pointing.

“White buoys… You mean those seagulls?” he asks.

I really can’t believe there are seagulls evenly spaced about 100 yards lined up in the water, but it’s an argument I cannot win. I check his table, find a new pair of goggles and quickly get on my way. Still worked up about why I should spend $1000 on a wetsuit, my heart rate immediately spikes as I start to swim. “Don’t panic” I remind myself and settle into a comfortable swim/float. within a few seconds I’m abrutly overtaken by a couple other racers and they literally are going twice as fast and carrying-on a conversation while swimming. Oh how I cannot stand the swim!

Friday was a beautiful day.

Then we woke up Saturday for the kids race. Dylan was full of nerves and didn’t want to do it. But he overcame his butterflies and we ran the course together. We were about halfway through the race, just after we passed Sharon McNary, and Dylan turns and looks up at me. His cheeks burning red. He says, “Oh, it’s starting to get hard now!” I think that is one of the moments that will stick with me. And I love it.

Dylan starting to feel the burn

Dylan starting to feel the burn

But a few minutes later, he could hear the finish line and the music and he took off. He pumped his arms high in the air when he crossed the finish line and was so proud to claim his finisher’s medal.

A sprint finish

A sprint finish

Not too soon afterwards the winds started to howl, the rain began falling and the temperature started dropping. By late afternoon, about 12 hours prior to the start, it was snowing. I didn’t quite know what to think. But for me, I’d rather deal with the cold than the heat.

A Few Inches Of Snow 12 Hours Before The Start

A Few Inches Of Snow 12 Hours Before The Start

Thankfully, when we woke up on Sunday morning, the skies and roads were clear. The start couldn’t have been a more picturesque setting with the lake surrounded by snow capped mountains.

Of the events, it’s obvious the swim is my weakest and least favorite. But as luck would have it, the day before the race I decided to rent a full length wetsuit instead of risk turning into an ice block standing in the sand at the start. I drag myself through the water. Others have a nice effortless stroke. I paddle. My lower half constantly sinks to the bottom. And I zigzag. For the life of me, I cannot maintain a straight line. I zigzagged so much along the 2.4 mile swim course, my Garmin reported I swam 4.2 miles of the 2.4 mile course. I know the Garmin is not as accurate in the water but 4.2 miles is not even close. The wetsuit seemed to help and propelled me to a swim time of 1:15. Believe it or not, I managed to survive the swim.

Some of the swim leaders

Some of the swim leaders

I stumbled out of the water onto the shore. I caught a glimpse of Nicole and Dylan on the shore as I headed in to T1. There is no other way to explain T1 other than complete chaos and pandemonium. Hundreds of athletes were attempting to squeeze into a tent intended for about 50 people. I tried to wiggle my way in but realized it was impossible. I found an empty spot on top of a pile of bags. With bare butts to my left and right, I just wanted to get out as soon as possible. I had one sock and one glove and a shirt sitting in a puddle. I pulled up my shorts, grabbed the rest of my gear and bag and did the rest of my changing outside. It took me 15 minutes to get out of T1. I think that was better than the average. I jumped on my bike, seat still covered in the morning ice and headed out. Heated seats on bikes? There might be a market…

Enough cannot be said about the views while cycling along Lake Tahoe in the morning with the sun coming up. Cold? Yes. But beautiful. My brand new Profile Aero HC system came flying off after about 5 miles during a little bumpy section. I handed the pieces to a volunteer and moved on with one water bottle. I saw Dave Campbell riding between Tahoe City and Squaw and gave him a “Looking good Dave!”

Martis Climb

Martis Climb

I tried to take it easy on the first lap and maintain a reasonable effort. Nicole, Dylan and Troy greeted me in the middle of the Martis climb. I hadn’t ridden that section of the course and was surprised how scenic that area is. Near the end of the first lap, I glanced down at my watch for the first time and saw my lap was over 2 hours and 30 minutes. Ouch!

Moving Through Truckee

Moving Through Truckee

The two laps went by relatively fast and without any issues. A couple stops here and there to fill up and then empty. By the second round of climbing, my legs had just about enough. I could tell the run was going to be a kicker and the climbing was taking a toll on my knees. Kevin Buchholz surprised me at the top of Brockway. Before I knew it, the last of the major climbs was over. I couldn’t have been happier riding into Squaw, mentally preparing for the marathon and giving hugs and kisses to Nicole and Dylan at T2. Time on the bike: 6:06.

Grinding. Slowly chipping away, one mile at a time. That sums up my run. I felt I was barely moving along the Truckee River, but somehow I continued to overtake one runner after another. Just after mile 8, I spotted Lee coming the other way which meant he had about a 2 mile lead. A man on a mission. His eyes were focused straight ahead and full of determination. We exchanged our “Keep it going!” and he was gone. A few minutes later, Deirdre Greenholz gave me a big boost of energy at the turnaround point. And then on the return to Squaw I spotted Robin and Dave. How fun to see so many friends on the course, whether competing, cheering or volunteering.

Heading out for the marathon

Heading out for the marathon

Around mile 14 was the lowest point of the run for me. This happened to be the point when the song Royals by Lorde became stuck in my head. I stopped at an aid station, bent over for a minute and recovered with some chicken broth and pretzels. The chicken broth immediately raised my energy.

Soon I saw Bob giving me the finger (a big giant foam finger) as I headed back to Squaw. You know the pain of the final 6 miles of the marathon. Everything hurts. But the pain is par for the course. And pretty soon it’s only a mile to go. Then I see Jody Stange right before the finish area and a couple minutes it’s over. 11 hours and 22 minutes total and a 3:42 marathon. I’m satisfied. I finally have a few minutes to connect with Nicole and Dylan and my body goes into shutdown mode.



I’ve always thought Lake Tahoe would be an ideal venue for this type of event and it did not disappoint. I’m grateful for all the help along the way. The past 7 weeks, Nicole and Dylan have been very flexible and supportive of evening and weekend training sessions. I’m guilty for taking time away from other things to follow this Ironman path. Enough cannot be said about the incredible volunteers from start to finish (like Sharon). I’ve never experienced such a supportive event.

Compared to some ultras, this seemed like a cakewalk. It wasn’t like you had to run to the next aid station that was 10 miles over some 9,000′ mountain peak. Literally, you just had to run 1 mile at a time. Breaking it down into 1 mile increments made it so much more manageable. Hard? Yes. But nobody should have been expecting it to be easy. An Ironman in the middle of the Sierra Nevada Mountains is going to be challenging.

Congrats to friends Lee McKinley (qualified for Kona), Sara McKinley, Robin Soares, Dave Campbell, Karyn Hoffman and Layne Scoggins for having great races and making it to the end of their paths too.