Returned and TIRED

Having concluded my visit to my son in Germany and returned to Minnesota, I find myself in need of restoring a regular sleep schedule. It has only been eight weeks since our last meeting. However, upon his return, he was accompanied by numerous friends and relatives from Minnesota, resulting in a diminished sense of his presence compared to my trip.

During my stay in Germany, we engaged in enjoyable activities and shared laughter. Except one day, Christiana, a young woman he was dating, accompanied us. She possesses a gentle and balanced disposition. She is an 18-year-old German woman with a radiant smile, yet she rarely displays it. This observation extends to the general German populace, as I noticed a lack of overt happiness or signs of weariness. When we visited various establishments and restaurants, their conversations were lively, yet few smiles or laughs accompanied them. I believe I heard only a single person laugh throughout the entire city, excluding my son and myself. 

This phenomenon is perplexing, considering the prevalence of laughter in the United States. In the United States, it is relatively easy to encounter individuals who embody the spectrum of life, as I define it. They appeared to be in excellent physical health. Given this observation, it is surprising that I did not perceive a significant number of laughs in the vicinity, despite the hardships they may be facing.

I had a difficult departure from Germany. It wasn’t complicated, but emotionally. I cried. Leaving my son in Germany, knowing it would be at least six months before I saw him again, was more complicated than any other time we had parted. Maybe it was because we had so much fun together. It’s been years since he got his driver’s license, and we just hung out and had a great time. The tears came more easily when I realized I had raised a fine young man: independent, intelligent, able to handle diversity, and still respectful and hardworking.

As a 46-year-old male, I found myself struggling to suppress tears on the train and airplane journeys to the airport. Despite my maturity, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of worry, akin to that of any parent concerned for their child. The distance between us weighed heavily on my mind, and I couldn’t shake the thought of his relationship with Christiana. While she is an exceptional individual, relationships are inherently transient. The prospect of their eventual end filled me with apprehension, and I grappled with the challenges of offering solace to him when he was thousands of miles away. The pain of my first significant relationship served as a poignant reminder of the fragility of love and the importance of cherishing our connections.

To this day, I vividly recall the first “real” love I experienced, the one I believed to be the one. Her name was Sheri Fjelstad, and I always thought she was the one for me. However, she didn’t reciprocate my feelings. (I recall seeing similar teenage love looks between Jordan and Christiana when I was 19, and Shari was 17.) She abruptly ended our relationship without explanation. A year later, I called her to ask why, and she threatened to refer me to someone else if I didn’t call her again. From that moment on, I became guarded in my relationships. Almost three decades later, I still don’t comprehend the reason behind her actions. A few years later, I wrote a song about her.

The lyrics are as follows.

Sunrise whispered over the old red barn

Rusted tractor left out in the yard

Morning coffee, just a little too cold

Your memory still haunts, it won't grow old

Your faded denim jacket hangs by the door

Boots by the fireplace, they don't stomp anymore

The radio plays our favorite song

But without you here, it feels so wrong

What made you leave without saying goodbye

Left me wondering, left me asking why

The echoes of your laughter still linger near

What made you leave without shedding a tear

We carved our names in that old oak tree

Promised each other, it was always you and me

But those initials now feel like lies

Another dream gone under the endless skies

Neighbors whisper they don't know the cost

Of waking each day with a heart that's lost

Every corner of this town holds a trace

Of the life we built is now an empty space

What made you leave without saying goodbye

Left me wondering, left me asking why

The echoes of your laughter still linger near

What made you leave without shedding a tear

What made you leave without saying goodbye

Left me wondering, left me asking why

The echoes of your laughter still linger near

What made you leave without shedding a tear

Looking back, I realize my life is better because she ended things. If we had stayed together, I might not have taken this same 27-year journey (grad school, moving several times to advance my career, and so on). Heck, I guess my son wouldn’t be here. But I remember thinking life was over. What else is there, I thought? So, I hope he understands that this might work out or not; either way, he has a whole life ahead of him. I didn’t see it that way when I was 19, and Sheri left without saying goodbye.

I recently heard a song by Brad Paisley that also hits this issue to the heart. It is called a “Letter to me”. It is about writing to himself about everything that seemed like the end of his life when he was 17. Or what he can look forward to as a result of those decisions. Part of the song goes:

And then I'd say, I know it's tough

When you break up after seven months

And yeah I know you really liked her and it just don't seem fair

All I can say is pain like that is fast and it's rare

And oh you got so much going for you going right

But I know at 17 it's hard to see past Friday night

She wasn't right for you

And still you feel like there's a knife sticking out of your back

And you're wondering if you'll survive

You'll make it through this and you'll see

You're still around to write this letter to me

As I write this part of the post, I feel a mix of emotions, including a sense of goofiness and a few tears. I’m grateful that no one is sitting next to me to witness my emotional outburst. However, loving someone deeply is a truly special experience in life.

In my mind, there’s no stronger love than that of a parent and child. My bond with my son is particularly close, and I feel a deep sense of connection with him. When his mother moved to Colorado when he was 10, we spent most of our waking hours together. We are close, at least I believe so.

Over the years, I’ve had relationships with other people, but none of them have ever compared to the dedication and love I have for my son. Not since Shari abruptly disappeared have I experienced such a profound connection with another human.

This realization has made me contemplate more than just human relationships and love. It’s also made me think about running and exercise in general. I’ve always been an avid runner, and I know how important it is for my well-being. Some people have a passion for running, a strong spirit, and a different kind of love for it than that for a human. For others, it’s simply a drug of choice, a license to live, or something they have no other options for.

Regardless of the reason, I wish I could look forward to many things, such as seeing someone or engaging in an activity. I eagerly anticipate seeing and talking to my son. But then again, as a true father, I know that my love for him is unconditional, and I’m committed to being the father he deserves.

Carry on my friends, carry on!

Comments from other blogs - merged the blogs.

Diane

Hey Londell,

Glad to hear that you had the opportunity to share such a close time of bonding with your son, but sorry that leaving him was so tough. Thursday, February 19, 2009 at 9:45:00 PM CST

Carl Gammon

Londell, What a wonderful post. Thank you for sharing, and welcome home.  Now, if you listen closely, the trails are calling! It's time to re-energize.  Friday, February 20, 2009 at 7:55:00 AM CST

Shocked

As I approach the conclusion of my stay in Germany, I discovered a surprising revelation. While it is widely acknowledged, I remain astounded by the weight gain experienced by Eric Chopin, the winner of the third season of Biggest Loser (December 2006). Despite his remarkable weight loss of over 200 pounds, Chopin has gained an average of one pound per week since winning the $250,000 prize. (For reference, please visit this link.)

In comparison, my own weight gain has been significantly slower, averaging 1.2 pounds per month since reaching my lowest weight of 216 pounds. Although I have not yet achieved the same level of success, I acknowledge that there is still potential for improvement.

The blog’s name, “Time to,” reflects my intention to take action and achieve my weight loss goals. However, I recognize that I have deviated from the established steps required for success. It is imperative that I rectify this oversight and take decisive steps to fix my situation.

The weather forecast indicates a gradual improvement in the weather conditions. (Munich experienced a storm today.) This respite from my routine has been both welcome and necessary. I have attached some photographs from my recent trip for your enjoyment.

First three days were busy

My ride to the airport got stuck at the office, so I decided to arrive 3 hours early, which ended up being 2 hours early. I was glad I had time to pack, which I left to the last minute! I was sure I had forgotten something.

The airport was almost deserted. I was shocked to have less than 10 minutes to check in and get to security. As I awaited my boarding, I was ashamed to admit I was looking around the waiting area to see who I would like or hate to get stuck next to for 8 hours. No one intrigued me enough to make me think, “They would be a good travel companion,” but I saw three people who needed two seats each and thought, “Please, God, no.” It reminded me of my last flight, where I had twice my weight right next to me. She declined my processed meal, gleefully taking it after her skinny-as-a-rail husband gave hers.

We boarded on time, and I played a game as people came toward me, stopped, and went into a seat around me. Goodie, I have two seats to myself; maybe not. This continued, and I realized I would be alone! I had a window seat, and the one next to me was comfortable. So, I started to sprawl out and prepare to enjoy the flight.

The first leg of the flight was uneventful. I chose “The Boy in Striped Pajamas” on demand. The ending was unexpected! It’s an independent film worth a look. I slept a little on the plane, taking a prescription sleeping pill after the meal. I dozed for two hours but woke from constant beeps when people called for help. Sometimes, it was simple, like not knowing how to turn on the light. I wonder if I’m becoming less patient or if the intelligence gap is widening.

We arrived 30 minutes early in Amsterdam, extending my 50-minute connecting flight to 80 minutes. My connecting flight was on the other side of the airport, and it was a long way to hustle with little sleep. As I was about one-third of the way, I realized I had forgotten my laptop in my tote. I ran back, but it was still there. What an airhead!

I arrived without any issues. We waited for a while, and boarding started 20 minutes late. Well, I don’t want to call it boarding, because we were put on a bus and carted across the runways to a plane in the middle of nowhere in the darkness. We sat on the bus, looking at the aircraft, for another 10 minutes before being told that the ice made walking to the plane difficult and that we had to board slowly. So we did. It was like the Texans driving in a snowstorm. Some people had no idea what to do on ice. It took another 20 minutes to put less than 30 people on the puddle-jumper-sized plane.

Then we sat and sat and sat. The first de-icing took a while, as the pilot informed us that we had lost our spot on the flight schedule and the control tower needed to find a place for us. Another 15 minutes before we moved. Then the most confusing thing happened. I had never thought taxiing on the runway could take 15 minutes or more, but it did! We just kept moving along at about 20 mph, crossed two interstate highways, and finally, there was a runway. I looked out the window and couldn’t see the airport. Wow!

We circled Munich for 10 minutes after arriving late, but finally landed. I expected customs to be challenging, but it was surprisingly simple. I walked to the baggage carousel, got my luggage, and left. Jordan almost got lost, but we managed to catch the train.

Germany reminded me of North Dakota: many farms and abandoned junk. What surprised me was the graffiti on the farms and the lack of it in the towns. Did it seem odd? Perhaps they leave it at the farms and have a graffiti patrol in the city.

We dropped off my belongings at Jordan’s place and headed to Ulm, Germany. It’s a charming village with a church unlike any other I’ve encountered. This church is known as the Munster, Germany’s second-largest Gothic church, second only to the Cologne Cathedral. Construction commenced in 1377 and concluded in 1890, spanning an astonishing 413 years! It’s been a Protestant place of worship since 1530. The choir stalls from the 15th century are magnificent, adorned with numerous carved figures. The tower stands as the tallest church tower in the world, reaching a height of 161.53 meters and boasting 768 steps. Although I didn’t get to climb it, the prospect of such a challenging stair workout was intriguing. The tower’s exterior exuded an aura of fascination.

We also took a stroll along the Dona River, which was undergoing a fascinating transformation. The riverbank was a blend of different architectural styles. Additionally, we came across the redevelopment of a property downtown. The construction materials, including steel beams and brick, were surprisingly dated, with some estimated to be only 100 years old. The reason behind this demolition remained a mystery to us.

After a day of exploring Ulm, we returned to Munich by train (a two-hour journey). Upon our arrival, we headed to the grocery store and then home. Exhausted, I decided to make my bed on the floor and get some rest. I had taken Klomazimpam to help me sleep. However, Jordan woke me several times as I was snoring, which slightly concerned me. I feared that I might have a recurrence of my sleep apnea, an issue that plagued me when I weighed over 250 pounds. Fortunately, when I was in the 230s, sleep apnea never bothered me.

We slept until 11 AM, which was unusual for me. It was 2 AM back home. We spent the day at the BMW museum, which was fantastic. Afterward, we ate at a student pub called Die Bierstube, where Jordan said it’s common. The beer is the priority, followed by the food. I had a tasty rice/chicken dish called Feuertopf. We left the restaurant and headed downtown to Munich, where a protest was underway with numerous police officers present. We didn’t stay long and left early for Stuttgart.

I woke up at 5 AM and returned home at 10 PM. I did some chores, showered, and headed to the train station. The Stuttgart train ride was over 4 hours with transfers. We met a friend of Jordan’s and went to a restaurant where Jordan ordered me a Doener, which is like Gyro meat but dry and less tasty. We’ve been here for three days and haven’t found a great brat, despite Germany’s reputation for them.

We met Christiana at about 1:30 PM and toured the town before revisiting the BMW Museum. I’m a bit tired of auto history, so tomorrow we’ll avoid auto-related activities. We left Stuttgart at 8 PM and returned to Jordan’s place at 12:30 AM. I’m tired, but I wanted to post about our first three days while I have access. I walked at least 4-5 miles each day, but I didn’t run. 

Time to sign off. Carry on!

10 days since last post

Over the past ten days, I have maintained a consistent running regimen, running approximately two out of three days with a minimum of thirty minutes each session. Notably, I have completed two runs exceeding two hours in duration.

In conjunction with my running routine, I have adopted a low-carb diet, which has resulted in a noticeable decline in my strength and endurance. While I have incorporated weightlifting into my exercise routine, I have not experienced a corresponding increase in strength. My current running pace is comparable to what I achieved during my 100-mile run, which I completed between 72 and 77 miles approximately five years ago. Despite the occasional challenges posed by icy conditions on the river trail during the past weekend, I managed to maintain a steady pace of approximately fourteen minutes per mile. While my heart rate remained within the mid-thirties, I experienced significant resistance in my legs, making it difficult to propel myself forward.

Tomorrow, I embark on a trip to Germany, where I plan to avoid engaging in running activities. Instead, I have made arrangements for extensive walking, but running is not on my itinerary. Upon my return, I will schedule a follow-up blood test to assess my progress and consider discontinuing my low-carb diet. I have a particular fondness for pasta, and my current dietary restrictions, which prioritize 55% protein, 25% carbohydrates, and 20% fat, have proven to be a challenge. I adhere to a meticulous food tracking system, closely monitoring my intake. However, this approach has proven to be arduous, particularly for me.

As I watched television this evening, I observed an interview with a single mother of fourteen. This has been a topic of numerous conversations that I have listened to but have not actively participated in throughout the past week. The more I learn about this situation, the more perplexed I become by how anyone can reasonably expect to support fourteen children alone financially. I have one child myself, and that presents significant challenges. However, as my former professor would often say, what constitutes “proper” parenting?

I have witnessed the struggles of families with five or six children, and I want to know if you and I would be willing to support these families financially and many other children in similar circumstances. While I may never fully comprehend this situation, it is a possibility that I cannot dismiss. I am not expected to fully grasp it. These individuals never fully understand when I mention Al Holtz and his remarkable 150-mile run last year. We all have our unique traits, but the traits that many of us share and that I share are not a burden on the taxpayer. Although I may be making an erroneous assumption, that is the only conclusion I can draw in this particular situation.

After careful consideration of my potential race options for the 2009 season, I have concluded that the most suitable race for me is the Grandma’s race. While I acknowledge that I am currently running more frequently, I find that regular running lacks the excitement and motivation that I seek. I enjoy outdoor activities and running itself, but the prospect of a structured race does not excite me at this time.

I recently discovered a valuable resource compiled by a fellow blogger, which includes a comprehensive list of podcasts related to running. I recommend exploring this resource: http://mwrunfar.blogspot.com/2009/02/running-podcasts-continue-to-grow.html. I found several podcasts that I found engaging and informative. In the meantime, I must prepare for my upcoming 4,800-mile journey to visit my son and enjoy a relaxing vacation. While maintaining a routine with a highly active 20-year-old male may not be particularly soothing, we share a strong bond and create wonderful memories together. This is my second extended vacation since 1999, and I am eager to unwind and recharge.

Carry on my friends, carry on!

Comments from other blogs - merged the blogs

Wayne

Have a great vacation, Londell!

Tuesday, February 10, 2009 at 11:21:00 PM CST

Kel

I think lots of us struggle with motivation to run during the winter months - I know I do. Spring (and more daylight hours) cure a lot of ails ;)

Have a wonderful trip Londell!

Wednesday, February 11, 2009 at 8:24:00 AM CST

Karen G

It's unfortunate that the low-carb approach isn't working out for you. 
Have a great time in Germany!!!

Wednesday, February 11, 2009 at 9:41:00 AM CST

SteveQ

Going to Germany and not drinking beer... such a waste. Have a great time; I know how much you've been looking forward to it.

Wednesday, February 11, 2009 at 10:18:00 AM CST

Mike W.

Relax, rejuvenate, reconnect and then return to the trails. Have a great time.

Wednesday, February 11, 2009 at 9:49:00 PM CST