A life to hang your hat on

This morning around 930am my grandfather passed away. Words cannot describe what he meant to me, even some of my closest family members probably don't know how close we were, and as I type this post, there are tears running down my face, and I'm not going to try to hide it as I write this.

I had a history professor in college who made us read the NY Times obituaries everyday for a week and do a report on that. At the end of the week, he started the next lecture by reading the eulogy that he gave for his own father and it began with "my father's obituary won't be in the NY Times, but for the people that knew him and anyones life he touched, it was worthy of it, so I'm going to read to you what should have been in the NY Times this morning..." With that in mind, here we go:

My mother's father lived a tremendous life. He went to Niagara University and was a graduate of the first ROTC class from that school. He became an officer in the US Army and was a proud veteran and married my grandmother in 1951. After his ROTC commitment was up, he left the service and became a career chemist. He and his wife had two daughters, who each married and had three children, a total of four grandsons and two granddaughters.

Some variation of that will probably be in the local paper in Lewiston, NY tomorrow. What isn't captured there is the true legacy he left behind...

When I was growing up, I always looked up to Grandpa Fulson as the toughest man I knew, a "man's man", the type of guy that generated respect and deserved it. Some of my most distinct memories of him were:

- I think I was 8 or 9 and he took me out deer hunting on a really cold day. He must have fed me a candy bar every 20 minutes that day and we were making a ton of noise. In hindsight, he had a better chance of winning the lotto than he did of shooting a deer that day. He had clearly made a choice that day to be a grandpa instead of hunting. Today, I still love hunting and a lot of it is because of him.

- The first time he saw me catch in a baseball game he told me, "you catch a great game, but you'd be smarter if you stuck with being a shortstop, that gear's the tools of ignorance." I could tell by the tone in his voice though, that he was really proud that I went the "tools of ignorance" route. He made the trip to Rochester for my senior day at RIT and that meant so much to me, more than I ever told him.

- Most importantly, when he met Nancy for the first time, he pulled me aside and said -"Well, she seems really smart, so I can't figure out why she's with you, but you better not be an idiot" - again, I knew he was really proud, and when I called him to tell him we were engaged, hearing the pride in his voice was one of the greatest moments of my life.

So much of me is from him, other than my terrible sense of humor, if I can be half the man he was, I think I'll be doing great.

My view of him has never changed, but my view of what toughness was changed as I got to know more about my Grandfather.

At first, I thought he was so great and tough because he was an army veteran and loved to hunt and fish and loved the Buffalo Sabres. While he still always loved all those things, I then saw what real toughness is and what it really means to be a man. When his wife of 55 years fell ill with Alzheimer's and ultimately forgot everything, he never complained, or asked why this was happening. He just had the attitude that "this is what I signed up for". He was being a loving husband to the very last second. He was truly the most courageous and compassionate person I've known.

So, while, his obituary won't be in the NY Times tomorrow, he led a life to hang his hat on and that's enough for me and everyone who knew Frank.

I'm positive that he'd be pissed off at me for making such a big deal about him. I'm pretty sure he'd just have anyone that reads this do the following - the next time you're in a bar, order a martini with olives, the next time you watch the sabres, make sure to shout extra loud at the TV when they're not back-checking with "toughness", and the next time you think of "the greatest generation, you think of remember his friends that didn't come back from Korea".

Here's to finding peace and solace. I love you Grandpa. And the Sabres won 6-2 today.

Big league racing in Quebec

Last weekend was supposed to be my 3rd crack at the Lake Placid Loppet. Due to snow conditions, that 50km race was cancelled. Given that almost every race we were planning on has been cancelled to date, Jason, Chad and I scrambled to find somewhere within driving distance to salvage something out of what's been a brutal winter for snow. Anyways, we were delighted to find that Eastern Canadian Championships were being held last weekend in Gatineau, QC, which is about the same drive time as Lake Placid. The events would be a 15km individual start skate race Saturday and a 30km mass start on Sunday. Due to work travel and the abysmal weather, this would be my first time on snow in two weeks. Not exactly the preparation that you'd like to see going into a race with some guys that were racing on the World Cup in Europe a month ago. But, if there's one thing I learned in my years playing baseball in the Northeast (and it took me almost all of my 21 years of competitive baseball to figure this out) is that you can't control mother nature and the sooner you deal with that, the better. We were the only Americans that ventured north of the border for the races and the organizers and volunteers definitely went out of their way to make us feel welcome. When I lined up for the start in the 15km skate race, the annoucer introduced me as "Marty Maynard from Rochester Nordic Racing in the US, put your hands together for our first international competitor", then repeated the same in French. Or at least I assume he did, for all I know, he could have said "look at this idiot American, he's about to get destroyed by this course and our fast skiers!". I digress.

Chad and I after the 15km skate race.

The skate race went pretty well considering everything, I felt like I skied pretty solidly for the first two laps (we did 3 x 5km laps) and faded a little on the last lap, but overall, it was a pretty decent race on a legit certified world cup course. The course was hilly, there was one climb that was about a full km uphill followed by a terrifyingly fast downhill, other than that, the rest of the course was a lot of rolling hills, it was almost never flat, but it was a fun course to ski. On the big downhill, I hit 34 mph during the race according to my GPS. That might not seem fast compared to alpine ski racing, but when the skis on your feet are about 50% the width of your feet, not attached to your heel, and you're also trying to step around a turn, it can get a little hairy.

This is not a staged photo, this is from the aforementioned downhill. This is the sh*t that happens when you get one of those downhills wrong kids! Anyways, I managed to stay upright, on Saturday and finished ok. I also had a nice ego boost due to my starting position - because I have no ranking at all in Canada, I was seeded well before all of the fast skiers (at the back of an interval start). I think I caught and passed the entire McGill Nordic team of 8 skiers in the first 8km. I hear it's a good school, but not so sure they're really putting in the training hours based on what I saw. Of course, if I were to start at the back of the pack, the top skiers would be saying the same thing about me, so it's all relative!

Sunday was a 30km classic mass start, which is the longest race I've done this year and the longest classic race I've ever done other than the Tug Hill Tourathon several years ago, which I wasn't really racing, more trying to finish. Anyways, I have documented several times on this blog that I'm not exactly a master tactician when it comes to classic skiing. On top of that, since none of us were Cross Country Canada members, we had no points and were stuck on the very back row of at the mass start. With like 100 guys in front of us, some of which looked a little sketchy (they types of guys that if it were a bike race, you'd make sure you were never following their wheel), the focus for the first few kms was simply not to break any equipment and get some open tracks to ski in.

I'm on the left, Jason's on the right in the same RNR uniform on the back row of the mass start. Right after the gun went off a guy in front of me went down, which would be one of several pile-ups on the first lap (we used the same course as the previous day, but 6 laps this time). On top of the bad starting position and suspect classic technique, I've been having some serious issues with my foot and classic skiing seems to irritate it thoroughly, so I wasn't overly enthusiastic when people started crashing everywhere, but was able to settle in eventually.

Here's a picture of me during the classic race courtesy of Musicianonskis.ca. There were parts of the course that I felt I skied pretty well and some other parts where I was a little "trainwreck-ish". Oddly enough, there were a lot of sections that I felt pretty strong with my classic striding and actually tried to drop the group I was skiing with about 22km into the race on one of the long gradual hills. The last two laps were really painful however and I never was able to put out maximum power with my lower body due to my foot. I managed to drag myself around the course 6 times and probably even looked like I knew what I was doing at certain times, but I know I'm capable of a lot better given the right circumstances. For example, there were guys that I beat by 2-3 minutes in the 15km skate race that were over 5 minutes ahead of me in this race, so that's ridiculously frustrating on a multitude of levels.
Left to right - Libby, Nancy and Anne. These three were out support staff in feed zones and ringing cowbells. It really helped to hear the cheers amidst all the "allet allet allet" calls from the French Canadian coaches.

Overall, the weekend was a great in a lot of ways. First, it was great to finally get a full weekend of racing in, and the atmosphere at these races was outside of anything I've experienced in ski racing except for maybe West Yellowstone. They had more volunteers dedicated to parking cars than we have for total volunteers at races in the US, even the big races in the US. Everything was very professionally run and well supported. Additionally, as I mentioned above, the courses were legit and impeccably groomed. Probably above and beyond all those reasons, it was great to race with Jason and Chad this winter in that type of setting and it was also great to have a weekend with the full crew of wives/girlfriend. We definitely lucked out to be able to do these races and I'd absolutely go back next year or to other events at this facility.

Unfortunately, the downer of the weekend was the realization that my foot isn't getting better and this isn't going away. Especially in the classic race, I was essentially racing against a big league field at 80% and that's a recipe for getting your arse handed to you in any sport, and xc skiing is an especially painful sport when you're not at your best. I'll write about my foot in a separate post because this one is getting too long.

This weekend definitely made me realize once again how much I love skiing and ski racing and appreciate the experiences I've had over the years and look forward to more experiences down the road, even if that has to wait until next winter.

This was a very positive weekend and I can't stress enough how awesome it was that Nancy decided to come up and see me race. We also batted .1000 on the feed zone hand offs!

Breaking silence

I haven't updated here in a while due to a wide variety of reasons. I've been on the go as usual - in January, I went back and forth to the Netherlands twice and took a quick trip to Prague. This hasn't been a typical winter compared to the last few winters due to the lack of snow - very little racing and a lot of cancellations and scrapped travel plans. I did manage to get in one solid weekend of racing this past weekend in Quebec, which I'll be writing about later this week.

Wait, what's that? I'm considering doing two posts in one week? I haven't posted in over a month? Unfortunately, I have some additional time on my hands as I'm dealing with an injury for the first time since college (also a separate post). It's nothing serious, but I guess it won't get better if I don't rest it. Since sitting still is probably the thing I'm worst at, I'm not really looking forward to this, but maybe I'll finally get past the first two lessons on my Russian Rosetta Stone and update this blog a little more frequently.

I will tell one story in this blog post (which thus far has been about absolutely nothing). About 4 weeks ago, Nancy grandfather sadly passed away. By all accounts, he led an amazing life and will be remembered fondly by anyone that knew him. I'm very thankful that I was able to get to know him over the last ten years and he was able to make it to our wedding to see his grandaughter get married.

On a slightly less serious note, he also loved to wear bowties and owned like 50 different bowties. His memorial service was in northern Virginia two weekends ago, and as a tribute, several of his family members wore bowties to the gathering. I was flying home from Europe (the Paris airport was an entirely different adventure) and flew into Washington Reagan airport about 1pm. Nancy's father and brother picked me up at the airport, threw a cup of coffee in me and I was at the memorial service wearing a bowtie (only because Nancy's brother knows how to tie one) within 60 minutes of touch down. Touch-down to bow tie in 60 minutes, that has to be a record.
The bowtie adds a very distinguished look if you ask me.

More to follow later this week.