For One of the Most Important Women in My Life
Granny in the Middle
This past weekend I attended the funeral services for one of the most important women in my life. My Granny passed away last Thursday and was laid to rest on Saturday. This is the woman who learned me many a things in my life and was a consistent source of love.
To the woman who made my second home as warm and safe as my first home… you taught me the comforts of family. To the woman who taught me how to people watch from our Myrtle Beach hotel balcony… you taught me to learn from others while laughing at them. To the woman who threw the best damned Christmas Eve party in our family… you taught me patience (food before gifts). To the woman who, when the joke was on her, was always first to laugh… you taught me humility. To the woman who allowed me to watch “man movies” (Chuck Norris, Rambo, Friday the 13th, Trolls, etc.) well before my legal age… you taught me that I did not have to grow up and be Colonel James Braddock to be a man. To the woman who put witch hazel on my bug bites and covered me in the “lion blanket” during summer months… you taught me the healing powers of the love from a good woman. To the woman who had a bus route to her house when mine did not… you taught me that the most fun lies within the journey home. To the woman who had WGN on her cable system… you taught me to love Cubbies daytime baseball and to multi-task (watching baseball and doing homework). To the woman who married a man who called me “the boy” and played Atari 2600 with me everyday… you taught me youth has no age. To the woman who, after I cut down her new tree with a rubber saw, still laughed and held her arms open for me… you taught me forgiveness. To the woman who told me to dream and live big… you taught me no boundaries to my imagination. To the woman who kept a full supply of Popsicles in the freezer during the summer and Soft Batch cookies in the jar during the winter… you taught there is a backdoor to my heart. To the woman who would take me to Murphy’s Mart for soup beans and Excitebike… you taught me musical fruit. To one of the most important women in my life… I will always love you and cherish our time together. You have set the standard.
Rebecca Lanning Rice Fredeking 1925-2009
Rebecca Lanning Rice Fredeking, age 84, of Ashland, Ky., died Thursday morning, June 25, 2009, in Community Hospice Care Center in Ashland. She was born May 6, 1925, in Ashland, a daughter of the late Morton Lanning and Edna Webber Lanning Gallup.
She was also preceded in death by a son, Richard Rice; her brother, Morton Lanning Jr.; her first husband, Dick Rice, and her second husband, Carl Fredeking.
She was retired from the Kentucky Department of Corrections after having spent 27 years as an administrative assistant in the Probation and Parole office. In her retirement years, she greatly enjoyed shopping, traveling, reading and being with her family. She was a graduate of Thomas R. Brown High School and attended Marshall University. She was a member of the Order of Eastern Star, Chapter 567, the Democratic Women’s Club, past president of Catlettsburg Junior Women’s Club and past president of Yost PTA. She was a long time member of Catlettsburg First United Methodist Church and more recently, a member of Ashland First United Methodist Church.
Survivors are a daughter, Jane Spurlock and her husband, John of Prestonsburg; sons, Mickey Rice and his wife, Pam of Ashland, Bill Rice and his wife, Tina of Ashland, and Fred Rice and his wife, Chris of Burlington, Ky.; grandchildren, Jason Rice of Dallas, Texas, Joe Rice of Brooklyn, N.Y., Rebecca Spurlock of Prestonsburg, Sarah Rice of Burlington and Kayla and Cody Rice of Ashland.
Masticating in Coeur d’Alene
Jeff (the cruiser) and Ryan (the one with socks on his arms) just moments before the drive-by.
This past week was spent masticating and cooling off in Coeur d’Alene. Why do I use the term masticate here? Because while in Idaho we ate a lot and my buddy Ryan uses the term when telling me I need to masticate more. Why do I use the term cooling off? Because the temperature the day I left Dallas topped off in the mid nineties and the forecast for the day I returned said one hundred degrees. While Coeur d’Alene kept it a cool 65 by day and 50 by night.
Why Coeur d’Alene Idaho? Becuase my longtime buddy lives there and so does Ironman Coeur d’Alene. Ryan is a great host with a spare bedroom, likes to buy his food in bulk and add cranraisins to everything. Anthony Travel has condos, hotels and tour packages ready to sell to the 72 athletes who will qualify to the Ironman World Championship in Kona Hawaii and I was just the person to tell them all about it.
Ironman fans await the Kona rolldown slots on Monday.
Ryan teaches in town at North Idaho College. He also trains the police cadets and takes them running around town in their orange reflective vests and navy shirts with the last name stenciled in white on the front and the backs. They don’t want to run in town because the low-rider drivers in from Orange County will mock them and take photos with their cell phones. He also owns the world’s largest irish setter and another dog similar in size which resembles a bear. He also is one of the best guys around. So if you are in the panhandle of Idaho for any reason, let me know and I’ll hook you up with one of the Coeur d’Alene’s best tour guides.
Word to the wise, “Don’t be fooled by the sweet demeanor of this quite little town”. This place has the potential to get ornery. Just moments after I took the above photo (outside of the Moon Time) I fell victim of a drive-by ranching. Yes, someone threw a container of ranch dressing out of their car window and hit me square in the back. A few nights later Ryan and I were locked up in the local watering holes till close. We are not big drinkers but when you ride into town on your bike and it pours down the rain for a few hours and the conversation is good… you just sort of stay where you are. We grab our bikes and slide out onto the street around 2AM. First thing we see is a drunken brawl. About six college age dudes swinging and hitting and swinging and missing. The girls were screaming and crying as blows started to land and bros started to land face first into the sidewalk. Not one of Coeur d’Alene’s finest moments. We bike a few more blocks and the episode repeats itself. But with a whole new cast. I haven’t seen a bar fight (yes bar fights can take place on the sidewalk outside of bars) in years and I was shocked that Coeur d’Alene offered this much machismo. But I guess you put ten cans of beer into any frat boy and they get belligerent. Don’t worry Coeur d’Alene, I won’t fault you and think any less of ya.
I could go on and on about the beauties of Coeur d’Alene and the Ironman… but I’ll save that for another time.
A sign on the table at the Spokane Intl Airport security checkpoint.
Mail from Tokyo
A 外人 under four hours.
A few weeks ago a slow boat floated across the Pacific Ocean. Among it’s contents a box full of things I thought I would never see again.
It all started at dinner one night in Tokyo. I was about to leave the wet cool weather of the Tokyo Spring and head directly into the hot season of SE Asia. My luggage consisted of a REI daypack and my Timbuk2 messenger bag. The long sleeves, pants, running shoes, running gear and Japanese collectibles were not coming along. During one of my final nights in Japan I asked my friend Satoko to help me find a post office in her neighborhood. Memory tells her there is a post office one block north of the Umegaoka station near her apartment. She writes down the kanji symbols for post office and tells me to look for the symbol for Japanes Post (a “T” with a bar over the top ” 〒” ).
That night on the way home I walk past a local food market and rummage through their broken down boxes. Hoping to find something just the right size and authentically Japanese I settle on a box from a case of instant noodles. The locals give me sideways stares as we pass each other on the sidewalk that night, but what else is new. Back at Satoko’s homestead I pack that noodle box full of things I could do without for the next month. Among it’s contents my dirty marathon shoes, my dirty marathon shorts, my dirty marathon shirt, some books, some strange Japanese cosmetic items, wall art, yard art and some other nick nacks.
The following morning I head out in search of 〒. I arrive at the intersection we identified at dinner. The next fifteen minutes was like a cruel game of “hot and cold”. I see an red mailbox proudly displaying 〒. “You’re getting warmer.” I look for other 〒 signs on the buildings. “You’re getting cooler.” My mind and my legs wonder down the block a bit. “Now you’re freezing.” I anchor myself back to the 〒 mailbox. “You’re warm again.” In China I would feel confident enough in my language skills that I could ask for directions. In Japan I reach into my pocket and pull out a piece of paper with Satoko’s kanji. The next person to walk past me is getting a good look at this piece of paper, my box and my where is this place face. A nice looking middle aged women wearing the latest fashions stops before me. Gives me a quizative look. Glances over my shoulder. Points to the glass door behind me and smiles. I pivot to the door. Her high heels click away down the sidewalk. I stick my face on the door and peer in. “You’re burning up.” I’ve been standing in front of the damn place the entire time.
I walk inside and quickly try to pick up on the protocol. Standard post office fare. People holding letters and boxes standing in line. Unlike post offices in America, the workers seem polite and are busy with fast hands and quick shuffling feet. I’m thinking to myself, who is going to be the lucky one to service me. The workers all know I am here. They are calculating how many people are in line, how much postage each person in line has, where I am in line and how they can pace themselves (faster or slower) in order to not pull my number. In my head I place my bets on who its going to be. My money is on the shortest of the ladies with her hair flipping out from under her hat. My experience playing the who is going to be making my burrito at Freebirds pays off… and the short Betty Rubble it is. We start things with the easy stuff… postcards addressed to the US. No problem. But I’ve got this big ole box and she knows it. One postcard, two postcards, three postcards. Here is my total on her calculator. “Arrigato gozaimasu.” There is a moment where she thinks that is going to be it. Maybe I’ll take the box with me. I see it in her eyes. But I crash that hope when I push the box forward and hand her a piece of paper with a US address on it. She counters my move by sliding over a form paper with a bunch of kanji on it. Touché. I complete the form to the best of my ability. The transaction is not complete until after I decide if I want it to travel fast or slow. So after making some plane noises and plane hand shapes while shaking my head “no” followed by boat noises and shapes with my head saying “yes” and my mouth saying “hai” she knows exactly what I want.
Four weeks later I return to the states. No box. One week later I return to Texas. No box. Mother’s Day. No box. Did I used to have a pair of running shorts with a liner? No box. Did I buy that cleavage message thing in Japan? No box.
Then one day it arrives. The memories of Japan rush into my mind. The aroma of six-week old marathon worn clothes rush into my nose. That same week I receive my official results from the Tokyo Marathon. They must have been on the same boat and my faith in the 〒 is restored.
がんばって!
Number 5465 out of 22789. がんばって!
Something wicked this way comes.
Cauliflower... it looks weird when you spell it.
I got out of the gym around seven tonight. I looked up and there was this massive heap of clouds above. The wind was whipping around the trash from a nearby Whataburger. The air was cool and sweet. Something wicked this way comes. I looked down at my scooter and threw down the gauntlet… we better beat this thing home before it opens up and shows us its insides.
Have you ever seen The Neverending Story? Do you remember the physical form “the nothing” took? That is exactly what this wall of sky resembled. Blue skies on one side and malty evil on the other. I again looked down at my scooter and with The Neverending Story on the brain I coined it’s moniker… “Falkor keep the wind and the rain at our backs”. I straddled Falkor, hunkered down behind the windshield, went well over the speed limit, cut through parking lots, passed a Buick on the right and kindly waited for this heavy fellow to cross the road. In no time I was home pulling my gym cloths from under the seat. Not a drop to be had. Three hours later I sit here and scribe this entry. And still not a drop to be had.
But not all is lost. My scooter now has name and I grabbed some photos of the sky. Kinda strange… pretty cool.
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- Cauliflower... it looks weird when you spell it.
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- The Nothing.
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- The Childlike Princess.
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- The AURYN.
Team El Poncho wades thru Walt Disney World.
Another Team El Poncho Fan.
Last weekend I attended my sixth consecutive Ironman 70.3 Florida (second only to St. Croix as the longest consecutive running IM 70.3 event). I was there for: the inaugural event, transitions in the pitch dark, runners cursing the race producers as they ran on the beach, Alice’s first triathlon (whom I did not met until two years after she crossed the finish line), chasing gators out of the beach transition area, and Jocelyn Wong’s earning of her US pro card. Each of these events create my web of memories for the Ironman 70.3 Florida and should somehow find their way into a wikipedia entry. My assignment at the triathlon has been the same every year; man the Anthony Travel booth at the Athlete Village to: assist guests with Disney and bathroom directions, eat warm homemade peanut butter bagels, receive Florida ant bites, become a brownie in the easy bake Ironman tent oven, and provide general travel recommendations. Because I lived near the mouse house for ten months I qualify.
This must be where you go for directions to the bathroom.
On Monday my friend Jocelyn and I journeyed to the the Disney Theme Parks. Channing (my intern buddy and “Overall Women’s Champion”) was kind enough to battle through the monsoon-like weather and symptoms ensuing a poisonous bat bite just days earlier to let us into the parks. If you have ever done two theme parks in one day you know that this activity alone is an endurance event. Jocelyn has the legs to do EPCOT and the Magic Kingdom just one day following a half-Ironman PR. You don’t earn a pro card and enjoy the world by sitting on our couch… she is proof.
I would write a complete travelogue of our time at the theme parks. But EPCOT’s Innovation interactive area learned this Kentucky kid a thing. No, not good grammar. Yes, recycling. So instead of a full report I am going to recycle Jocelyn’s near perfect report (there is a typo). You can read and see all about it here on her Team TBB blog. After you read this entry I suggest you read some others, subscribe for future entries, buy a Wongstar t-shirt (when they are available), buy a Team El Poncho poncho (when they are available) and become her fan.
We live vicariously through ourselves.
Bruised in at the Ironman 70.3 Florida
Bruised in less than six hours.
Last night I arrived in Orlando (got stand-by lucky enough, evening flights out of Dallas where delayed becuase of morning rain) and went to market in my old neighborhood. The bannanas at Winn-Dixie were of perfect color, not too yellow and not too green but a little more on the green side. That was around eleven last night. At seven this morning they looked like the photo above. I know the sun down here does terrible things for your skin, not sure why all the old folks want to move down here, but bad for bannana skin too. I guess so.
Today we pack up and set up the Anthony Travel expo booth at the Ford Ironman 70.3 Florida. Stop by the boooth and we will take your photo in front of the green screen and take you places.
Tell your boss to “Go Take a Bike!” to work day.
This guy found a bike and rode it. And a caterpillar and wore it on his face.
Friday is bike to work day.
Do something about it.
These people did.
See... everyone else is doing it.
Tejas y mas
Got back to Texas the other day… missed Asia so much I bought a scooter. Actually I have been craving for one of these little boogers for a long time. After shopping around town at the dealerships (Honda for the Ruckus and Vespa Dallas/University Scooter for something else) I could not find a better deal than the one John Hill gave me on craigslist. It still has a year left on the warranty, only 400 miles, a windshield, a top-box, titles and inspection through the end of the year and only a been laid down once. The dealers could only shake their fists at it… not a stick. So after work today I got a lift to McKinney (a far norther Dallas suburb), picked up the keys from John, filled her/him (still to be determined) up at the nearest station (that’s about $3 for a tank of gas = 80 miles, I have a tendency to peg it), and drove the 35 miles down to Lakewood in some heavy headwinds. My allergies have been on fire since I landed in Texas. Today’s ride is sure to have laid some good pollen counts in my eyes. Tomorrow morning I am sure to wake up with what looks like a good case of the Swine Eye (a wild spinoff strand of the Swine Flu).
In the meantime it is back to work, joy riding and off to Disney World for the Ironman 70.3 this weekend.
Back in the States
That flight departing at 17:35... that is me to Chicago.
Last week I flew out of Tokyo’s Narita airport on route to Chicago. Luckily I got to the airport with just enough time to grab a seat at the Takoyaki and beer bar. Had myself a few fried octopus dumplings, a Kirin and a weird conversation with a some Australian fella. I managed to catch only about thirty minutes sleep during the 11-hour plane ride. I even had the seat next to me open… but I just could not muster the sleep. Most of the time I spent thumbing through The Office and 30 Rock episodes, a few movies (FYI Taken is no good) and a lot of backgammon. After a short stop in Chicago and a bagel sandwich it was off to Northern Kentucky.
The plan was to be in Kentucky for a few days to cure me of any jet lag (of which the only symptoms were minimal, better than expected: waking up at 3:30 in the morning the first two nights and very drowsy first day was about it). The other plan was to be home for the 135th running of the Kentucky Derby. Derby Saturday was just what I expect from a Kentucky weekend at home. A cool morning with the sun peak-a-booing between clouds. I at my breakfast table with the paper turned to the Derby horses to make my pick. Dad mowing the lawn and tracking grass into the house with his stained green socks. Sister Sarah and I putting up the badminton court. Mom preparing some of the cold dishes for dinner. And Uncle Phil and Grandmother driving in from Eastern Kentucky. Dad won the pool on the blind draw we had on the race and it was just an all around solid good time. The rest of the time in Kentucky was equally solid. Uncle Matt made a drive up from Lexington for a short visit. Dad, Sarah and I drove to Eastern Kentucky for Granny’s birthday (visited with the Rice side of the family). By the end of the my time in Kentucky my dreams were sweet and thick with memories of my travels tossed together with a history of my Kentucky memories.
When Kentucky is green grass under blue skies in the springtime… there is not much better.
Schedule
Off to a good start. Pops got me up on time. The cluster of bananas we purchased the other day have settled into a perfect condition and made for a good snack. Got a standby flight here in CVG. This will provide a little more breathing room in Chicago. Then it’s direct (13+ hours) to Tokyo with planned arrival around 2:15 PM local time. Here is how the rest is looking.
March 18 depart Northern Kentucky International Airport.
March 19 arrive in Toky
o (NRT).
March 22 run, walk, jog the Tokyo Marathon.
March 30 depart Tokyo arrive in Bangkok, bus to Cambodia met up with my PEPY friends.
April 11 depart Cambodia, bus to Thailand (maybe Ko Chang, maybe Krabi).
April 16 depart Bangkok arrive in Hainan (Haikou) China.
April 19 Ironman China (not participating, just volunteering).
April 20 depart Hainan, arrive Guilin.
April 25 train from Guilin to Kunming.
April 30 depart China to Tokyo to US.
See you out there.
“Give Me a Steak… Medium Rare.”
Knight, this guy is here to clean your restroom.
To Knight and Bajia.
Thank you for hosting me in Huntsville. You strategic location along I-65 provided a good stopping point in my drive. It also allowed me to fulfill a childhood fantasy, born out of the silver screen, to visit Space Camp. Photos are to the right. Per usual, things always get a strange when we are together. Whether it’s line dancing to Humpty Dance at a strip mall western bar in Florida or passing out due to mosquito infestation bites at our everglades campsite the world just seems to get a little out of order. And I wouldn’t have it any other way. (more…)
State of contradiction.
There is a parallel between the long haul driver and the endurance athlete. Unique and strange attire besides… each has its own set of external forces to deal with: wind, rain, traffic, directional issues, bad drivers, etc. The link I am interested is their mental state. (more…)
Rice… Awealot.
Things got off to a good start on Saturday. A final apartment walk-thru earned a full return on a security deposit I had long forgotten. The new Lakewood Whole Foods Market opened just this week and provided a panini for breakfast, no fresh breakfast items. But it was tasty and provided a solid start to a long day of driving. (more…)
Grand Avenue Garage Sale
Grand Garage Sale Entrance
Saturday, February 14th from 8:00 am until 2:00 pm Stephana and Steve allowed me to share their carport space to host the Grand Avenue Garage Sale (Dallas, TX). All my proceeds going to travel inoculations. All of Stephana and Steves proceeds going to dog chow. A slow morning start allowed for final layout and pricing decisions. Steve ran to the grocery store to buy Barney birthday balloons to strap to the speed limit sign while the $2 priced deer decoy (package warning read “Careful! Deer looks real. Not to be used in rifle season.”) was removed from the selves and put to work on the street corner. The combination of these beacons attracted camo hat wearing middle aged men and kool-aid mustached children alike. The result was quite successful. Before closing time all the big and most of the small items were sold: the bed set, the butcher block table, the entertainment table, the VHS tape collection (with parental warning about KIDS), the television (complete with rabbit ears and digital box), the VCR, the shelving, the kubricks, the pants, the shirts, the shoes, the gas camping grill, the old school electronic baseball game, the wooden surfer, the picture frames, the charcoal pencil set and a bunch of things stuffed into the corner of my life. There was a short table and cd tower which had to be curbed after the sale. Grand Avenue F-150 traffic will gobble those up in no time. Total earnings = $200 and a good bowl of potato garlic soup. Enough to pay for the inoculations… I think.
Thank you Stephana and Steve for hosting this garage sale. If not for you I would have been hawking my possesions to friends who do not want them. Either that or contracting Japanese Encephalitis in Cambodia.
the about
Jason with the Xmas Coconuts
On March 6, 2009 I will voyage from Texas to Kentucky. Those of you who live somewhere in between be wary… you may receive a knock on your door in the following weeks. On March 19th the voyage will continue to Tokyo where I will participate in the Tokyo Marathon. Training has me geared for a personal best. Jetlag and over-consumption of soba noodles may have something else in mind. Following the marathon there will be some exploration around Japan with my long lost friend Satoko. Possible: climb Mt. Fuji, ski Nagano, eating onsen boiled eggs, sleep in a pod, and so much more.
Things continue, in no particular order or for any particular amount of time I will visit Cambodia, Thailand and the southern regions of China. We will meet up with the good folks of PEPY Ride and volunteer (possibly compete — if I can find a bike) in Ironman 70.3 China. Everything else is a grab bag of fun.
This blog will chronicle the journey. Expect good photos and bad english grammar.
Stay tuned.
