FitnessDigest.us Vol. 4.3 Cover by FitnessDigest.us

ISSN 2164-3997

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Stories of the humankind.

Deadwood, MTM

Emily Wheeler, Race Director

Dear Freestyle

Jen Schmitt, FitnessDigest.us Columnist

I’m a Survivor

Brandi Shipman, Elite Triathlete

Inspiration

Jeremy J. Taylor, CNFI Publishing

Motivation

Vince Errichiello, USMS Swimmer V4I1 CS0100304ISSU

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Ride of Silence

Mike Murgas, Poet & Robert LaVallee, Photographer

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Summer 2012 Volume 4 Issue 3

FitnessDigest.US

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Stories of the humankind

Contributors to Volume 4 issue 3

In this Issue

Emily Wheeler - Owner of Wheeler Event Management. Emily is the race director for the Mickelson Trail Marathon and the Crazy Horse Marathon in South Dakota.

Short Stories 10 Greatest Race 14 Watch and Learn 15 Dear Freestyle 17 Adult Swimming 26 Let’s Race 30 Throwing at Him 36 SPAM 52 Swim Stories 53 Exhale 57 Volunteering / Admission Price

Jenn Schmitt - 31 year old stay at home mom who worked as a Director of Special Education and a special education teacher prior to that. Jenn has a Master's Degree in Educational Administration from Iowa State University. Brandi Shipman - Elite triathlete and cancer survivor, Brandi owns and operates a professional triathlete coaching service. She is a certified USA Triathlon coach and personal trainer. She is one of the best in the country at answering questions on a range of topics that include V02, running science and multisport training plans. Vince Errichiello - An active USMS swimmer and motivational writer. Vince swims for the Westmont Swim Club in Chicago, Illinois. Proceeds from the sales of this issue support the purchase of a score board for the pool area at the University of Illinois in Chicago. Jeremy J. Taylor - From Morgan, Utah, Jeremy started out writing lyrics which transposed into writing poetry. In the creative process he developed a creative writing theory, eventually this theory became the foundation for establishing his writing and publishing interests. He owns CNFI publishing. Robert LaValle - Professional photographer who owns the website CreationsPraise. Robert is an expert at macro-photography.

Features 5 Letters to the Editor 6 Letter from the Publisher 11 Giving it a Tri 18 MTM Marathon 23 To Build a Fire 27 Motivation & Inspiration 32 T-shirts 33 To Catch a Lunker 35 TOP Tweets 36 Unsung Heroes 37 Ride of Silence 46 Endless Pools 47 Walking Stick 47 My Bike 51 Workout Ideas 50 Open Water Numbers 54 I’m a Survivor 58 Cancer 61 Reader Photos 71 Classifieds

FitnessDigest.US volume 4 issue 2 spring summer 2012

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FitnessDigest.US volume 4 issue 3 summer 2012

What’s in Store By Mark Miller, m.miller@FitnessDigest.us

Thank you to all the readers who saved a copy of Vol. 4.2, I’ve dubbed it the English Channel issue, because of the Bryn Dymott story. Looking back I’m amazed at what the team put together. Not only did we get a great story from Bryn Dymott, English Channel swimmer, but we got stories from an Olymipc Hall of Fame member, Transplant Games World Champion and another contribution from Charlotte Andersen.

Now we move onto Vol. 4.3, Summer 2012. It is jam packed with stories and writing. We are settling into a good pace with this issue. It’s our sixth issue for public distribution and might be my favorite issue yet. The contributors may not be as well known, but their stories are just as fun, inspiring, heartfelt and entertaining.

We have our best collection of ultra-short stories in this edition. Ultra-shorts are 25-50 word works of Over 1 million pages read. wonderment. Some of the most entertaining and humorous stories All good stories and causes. Vol. 4.2 we’ve ever received. Keep sending was such a fun run. It really set the these stories to us anyway you can: standard in many areas. We got use the form on the homepage, write thousands of new readers through a letter, email, phone or send us CoopNet, DocStoc and Scribd. We morse code - whatever works. Just heard from a handful of people that said they enjoyed the issue. With the get’em in here! It is these short completion of Vol. 4.2 we are on pace antidotal narratives that are some of for over 1 million pages read in 2012. the most popular reads in each issue. The free issue for the quarter was the The most value comes from our bench press world record issue Vol. feature stories though. Our main 4.1. It was a VERY popular feature this issue is from Texas. Brandi download. Shipman is an elite triathlete and

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A directory of multimedia resources for the current issue. http://LiveAds.FitnessDigest.us

FitnessDigest.US volume 4 issue 3 summer 2012

What’s in Store

Continued.

cancer survivor. Her story is about the incredible comeback she made from breast cancer. After battling the disease she took on the race course. Her list of accomplishments on the race course are long and she is faster than ever! She uses her racing to raise awareness for the American Cancer Society. She has touched so many people with her racing and as a survivor. That is why stories like Brandi's need to be preserved digitally in the most professional way. Which leads me to the topic of preservation. One of my jobs, as publisher, is to watch the current publishing trends. I've spent a lot of time lately on digital-preservation of history. To communicate the importance of preservation to customers we’ve added the words: gather, distribute and preserve to the coopnet.biz online store. I feel so strongly that stories like Brandi's need to be published with preservation in mind. Ironically I have a story that illustrates why. My grandmother is moving to a nursing home and the family was cleaning out the things she had saved. One of the items was a collection of old Life magazines and

a magazine called Archer, published by ADM. In an amazing coincidence, my father opened a Life magazine to a feature about the city we currently live in! What an incredible find and the story is so much fun to read. Second, my family had no idea that my grandfather had been writing a column for ADM’s Archer magazine. It is so much fun to go back and read the words he wrote in 1950. We are so lucky that my grandmother saved this collection. It is priceless to our family. Third, I just read about Evernote, a company that is asking, “Will the internet be around in 100 years?” I should mention now that the company has a billion dollar evaluation. Their business plan is

For information on people, restaurants and events that Mark mentions in his article visit http://LiveAds.FitnessDigest.us

Got a funny or inspiring story? Send for our new writers exordium. entry@FitnessDigest.us

FitnessDigest.US volume 4 issue 3 summer 2012

What’s in Store

Continued.

built on the idea that websites can disappear in seconds. One solution is back-ups. Each duplication you make of a file increases the chances of it’s survival in years to come. It is my hope that someday people will find stories like Brandi's on an old iPad or Kindle and get to read her story, just like we read my grandfather’s stories in Archer.

Jenn Schmitt, Columnist

Another first for the magazine. We are taking a creative writing expert and pairing his story with a story from a US Masters swimmer. The stories are about what inspires and motivates – how to find inspiration and motivation in your life. I couldn’t believe how many underlying similarities there where when I placed them side-by-side. This issue is also our first issue that is going to include a new columnist. Jen Schmitt is submitting a quarterly column for the magazine. She is an inspiring mom in training – mom first, writer second and triathlete third. That is a recipe for success. On top of the fact that she is a talented writer, her style fits the magazine's concept. Her writing is

fun and she is great at finding the interesting details in life's precious moments. She brings to light many details that could easily be overlooked. When I see that talent in an athlete-writer I think to myself that they must understand hard work and suffering - because it is the suffering, often times during our training, that teaches us to see beauty in life. Jen uses her talent to help moms find the reward from long workouts. Fittingly, we have a poetic story that illustrates this link between suffering and the appreciation of life. That story can be found on page 10. In 2008 I ran the Mickelson Trail Marathon in Deadwood, South Dakota. Since then I've always felt a personal connection to it. When I got word from Emily Wheeler, the race director, that we could get some photos and a short story from the 2012 race I was very excited. Jen works closely with the legendary runner Jerry Dunn. Mr. Dunn is well known for his 200 marathons in the year 2000. He is America's Marathon man. He has appeared on the Today Show and has been featured in numerous magazines. The chance to work with Jen and

FitnessDigest.US volume 4 issue 3 summer 2012

What’s in Store

Continued.

her team is so cool. I'm very thankful for the contribution. I'd like to include a quick side note to Emily – I think my next challenge will be to make that 100 miler work for me. On a whim I emailed a coordinator from the National Office for the Ride of Silence. I mentioned publishing the official poem for the ride along with some photos. The excitement I heard back was so positive. The ride is emotional to so many people. The stories of riders being hurt or killed is tragic, we never want to forget them. That is why education about sharing the road is a huge part of cycling safety. I won't tell you more than that. When you read the poem remember those that were hurt or killed while cycling. The pictures we got from Robert LaVallee show the different color ribbons given to riders. Red is for cyclists who knew a rider that died while cycling, black is for a rider that has been injured during a ride. I’ve been downloading classic (out-of-copyright) novels to my Kindle and iPad for re-reading and because I think the are important to preserve for future generations. I've downloaded the Illiad, Adventures of Tom Sawyer and the original Wizard

of Oz. I also found some good fiction from Jack London. I think the magazine’s readers will appreciate it. It is a classic work that is about hiking – Think "The Long Walk." It is a good read with a surprise ending. I hope readers will search out books and stories like this and add them to their own collection. If we find more that are fitness related or have active subjects we may share them too.

http://www.brandishipman.com

Sent from Iowa

When in the vastness of miles we find ourself not asking questions but finding answers. The fast races we ran years ago seem ugly and unforgiving. U n c o m f o r t a b l e c o m p e l l i n g

FitnessDigest.US volume 4 issue 3 summer 2012

NOT THE FASTEST RACE, THE GREATEST

Now, older and wiser and much, much slower the race gives us a different story. Four emotions: joy, anger, sadness and frustration - not all at once but in a fashionable order, that even makes anger a pleasant experience. If it were not for the physical suffering, endured for duration of the race, you would, perhaps, experience all at once. Uncomfortable yet compelling. The race, that when you are done and the suffering is over, makes everything clearer, priceless moments no longer slipping by, but take the stage in life â&#x20AC;&#x201C; in a perfect permutation. The finish helps us see there is more to do, but until the next race there is no hurry. Stop, smell the roses. Until we rise up for another challenge the story that unfolded during the race takes care of us, we don't have to tell it. It is written into our lives. The memories, and seemingly the future, having been created between the aid stations and mile markers.

Meningitis

As a teenager I chose golf in high school as a sport, rather than track. Golfing meant enjoying a bag of chips and a can a soda while on the course. Running was something I dreaded in school, I used to plan how I could get out of the mile run for weeks when I knew it was almost fitness test time. Now, as a 31 year old stay at home mom, I am running 10Ks and have a goal of completing four sprint triathlons in 2012 as well as many other 5Ks and 10Ks. My five year goal is to complete an Ironman triathlon! Over the course of the last three years I have changed many aspects of my life. I earned a Master’s Degree in Education from Iowa State University. I left a career as a Director of Special Education, in a local school district, to become a stay at home mom – with my two beautiful girls. This change was prompted by a health scare in 2009, I was hospitalized for many days with meningitis and realized life was just too short.

Favorite indulgences: Chex mix

FitnessDigest.us columnist Jen Schmitt, Rockford, Iowa

Favorite food: Kale chips or Rice Cakes with Almond Butter

Giving it a Tri

In 2011, while nursing m month old my sister in law invited me to go with her Weight Watchers. I joined next day for what was pro the 8th time, but this time different! I made my goal am a lifetime member. I l 43lbs. and am healthy for first time in my life. I have Crohn’s Disease and am n longer taking any medicat and no longer suffering th symptoms associated with disease.

In August of 2011, our hometown hero a Navy Se was killed in action. He w huge inspiration to many people, but after his death inspired to make a differen our community and live m differently. He was a triat that had tackled the big da of them all and became an Ironman. Realizing what gave up so that we may ha freedom inspired me to

his death

In 2011, while nursing my four month old my sister in law invited me to go with her to Weight Watchers. I joined the next day for what was probably the eigth time, but this time was different! They helped me make my goal and I became a lifetime member. I lost 43lbs. and I’m healthy for the first time in my life. I also have Crohn’s Disease and no longer take medications nor do I suffer with the symptoms associated with the disease. In August of 2011 our hometown hero, a Navy Seal, was killed in action. He was a huge inspiration to many people. After his death I was inspired to make a difference in our community and to live my life differently. He was a triathlete that had tackled the big daddy of them all – an Ironman. Realizing what he gave up so that we may have freedom inspired me to continue on my fitness path by adding triathlete to my title.

Favorite workout song: Stronger (What Doesn’t Kill You) by Kelly Clarkson

Crohn’s Disease

FitnessDigest.us columnist Jen Schmitt, Rockford, Iowa

Favorite place to run: Fossil & Prairie Center Trails, Rockford, Iowa.

Giving it a Tri

In 2011, while nursing m month old my sister in law invited me to go with her t Weight Watchers. I joined next day for what was pro the 8th time, but this time w different! I made my goal am a lifetime member. I lo 43lbs. and am healthy for first time in my life. I have Crohn’s Disease and am n longer taking any medicat and no longer suffering th symptoms associated with disease.

In August of 2011, our hometown hero a Navy Se was killed in action. He w huge inspiration to many people, but after his death inspired to make a differen our community and live m differently. He was a triath that had tackled the big da of them all and became an Ironman. Realizing what gave up so that we may ha freedom inspired me to

When I am not out training with the group that I started in my hometown “Friends in Fitness” you can find me blogging at justamomgivingitatri.blogspot.com, studying for my personal trainer certification or spending time with my husband, girls and friends. I enjoy being in the outdoors whether it is just for a walk or turkey hunting in the woods. I am currently the chairperson working to organize a 5K fundraiser for the PEO Chapter that I belong to in Rockford, Iowa. This is going to be our major fundraiser for the year and we are very excited to encourage wellness among others in our community.

What gets me out of bed? My alarm on my phone telling me to get to the pool and swim or a screaming child.

Family & Friends

FitnessDigest.us columnist Jen Schmitt, Rockford, Iowa

Favorite workout accessory: Garmin Forerunner 310 XT

Giving it a Tri

FitnessDigest.US volume 4 issue 3 summer 2012

Watch and Learn Sent in from NIP Gym

Successful SAFE gains in the gym.

NO MSG

GREAT STORY HERE FROM NIP & Fitness I was in the gym this morning doing shoulders. A quiet red headed kid comes in and gets on the bench, and starts benching. His first set of 135 lbs. had HORRIBLE technique and form. I walk over and talk to him. He tells me his name is Joe - age 17 - weight 205 and is a junior at C.S. High School and he just bought a membership to NIP & Fitness. He tells me two weeks ago he benched 185 lbs. for a max. I told him that was very good for is age, but NOT for his build. I knew he was stronger than that. So I helped him shape up is technique and form. Joe – LISTENED and WATCHED. He learned that he was much stronger than a 185 pound max bench presser. Today from LISTENING and WATCHING, Joe bench pressed 225 X 2!! – and that 185 pounds he maxed two weeks ago, he finished his work out by doing that 185 pounds for seven reps!!! Proper TECHNIQUE and FORM are the key to successful SAFE gains in the gym. Today Joe was a perfect example. CONGRATULATIONS Joe!!

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Low Sodium

FitnessDigest.US volume 4 issue 3 summer 2012

head position

Dear Freestyle By Jen Schmitt, Rockford, Iowa

Dear Freestyle Swim Stroke,

pull

recovery

You are so frustrating to me! Why can’t we just get along? When I made the decision to tackle this goal of completing a triathlon I was not even worried about you! That has proven to be a mistake! Some days things go so smooth between us and some mornings I spring out of bed at 4:30 so excited about our time together. Today was not one of those days! You left me feeling like this… Like a wet, wrung out old swimsuit.

exit

These are the reasons that I am so upset with you: 1. You literally take my breath away. 2. You make my shoulder hurt (Popcorn kernels currently on shoulder while typing.) 3. You make me leave my warm cozy bed about two hours before I would really like to leave it.

flutter-kick

4. If I don’t get my butt out of bed and go at 4:30 AM I have to leave my family and go at 7:30 PM.

(Yes, we know – no cameras in the locker room. No one was harmed in this photo shoot.)

FitnessDigest.US volume 4 issue 3 summer 2012

head position

Dear Freestyle Continued

And to the very old man in the lane beside me, I do not dislike you, in-fact, I am insanely jealous of you. I don’t stare at you because of your body, you may look hot if I was 75, but I am not. I stare at you in awe of how effortlessly you move up and down the pool without a rest. Someday I hope to be just like you.

pull

recovery

exit

So for now, as much as I would love to say we need to break up and go our separate ways, I am too D*** stubborn to do that. We will make this work and we are going to get along! Here is my promise to you – I promise to meet-up with you two to three times a week for at least an hour to work on our relationship. I promise not to cheat on you with the sidestroke, although I am so much more comfortable with him. I promise to keep an open mind about our relationship and give it all that I have, just like I do with my friend the run! Love you, (I think) Jen

flutter-kick

FitnessDigest.US volume 4 issue 3 summer 2012

Adult Swimming By Susan Dawson-cook

If you have trouble standing up after you take some strokes one women cried, she was so overjoyed

I have taught dozens of adults how to swim. Many of them were initially either afraid of water or somewhat uncomfortable in the aquatic environment. What's worked best is to get in the water with them and do activities that show them it can be fun and safe. I make sure they feel safe and secure the entire time and even say things, like "if you have trouble standing up after you take some strokes, I will help you," or "just reach for my hand if you need support," Many beginners have this fear – if they are in the horizontal position swimming, they won't be able to stand up... One woman cried, she was so overjoyed she overcame her fear and learned to take her first strokes. Find more of Susan’s writing and published works at http:/livemedia.FitnessDigest.us

If you would like future issues delivered to a Facebook, Twitter or email account e-mail us at info@FitnessDigest.us.

Body image and fitness are hot topics for both men and women. The Great Fitness Experiment is my hilarious, poignant, embarrassing, and at times, heart-breaking journey to find my way through the morass of contradictory claims and information in today’s health- and fitness-obsessed world. Available in paperback or in eBook http://LiveAds.FitnessDigest.us

FitnessDigest.US volume 4 issue 3 summer 2012

Deadwood Mickelson Trail Marathon Sunday, June 2, 2013 Deadwood, South Dakota

FitnessDigest.US volume 4 issue 3 summer 2012

Hope to see you at the finish. Written Emily Wheeler For more information & video visit http://LIveAds.FitnessDigest.us

On June 2nd we will celebrate 12 years of offering runners from around the globe the most unique running experience of their life. Where else in the world can you run on a course that takes you from an abandoned mining town, across railroad trestles, through a mountain, past monolithic rock formations, beside a babbling creek and finish in Deadwood….a town that is a historic landmark.

“Wild West town, known primarily for its gamblers, gunslingers and gold miners”

FitnessDigest.US volume 4 issue 3 summer 2012

“The breathtaking beauty of our course”

This Wild West town, known primarily for its gamblers, gunslingers and gold miners, has turned into one of the premiere destination marathon venues in the U.S. The breathtaking beauty of our course, the truly outstanding team of volunteers, the hospitality of everyone associated with the event, and paying attention to details are just a couple of reasons you’ll want to toe the line on June 2nd. The Deadwood Mickelson Trail Half and Full Marathon is a point to point course,

MTM Charity Partner

Habitat for Humanity is a beginning in the historic mining town of Rochford, the first 1.5 miles are on a paved road. At this point, the course becomes the Mickelson Trail (a rails to trails project). The next 12 miles are a mixture of gentle uphill and flat terrain. Then, the course is either downhill or flat and finishes at the historic Engine House at end of the line…the Deadwood Trailhead. The Half Marathon is also a point to point course, starting at the 13.1 mile mark of the full marathon. Walker Friendly . All participants will receive a Commemorative Finisher’s Medal.

global nonprofit Christian housing organization that has helped to build more than 500,000 decent, affordable houses and served 2.5 million people worldwide since its founding in 1976. With the help of volunteers and donations of money and materials, Habitat constructs, rehabilitates and preserves homes in partnership with low-income families in need. Operating in nearly 80 countries and with more than 1,500 affiliates in the United States, Habitat also advocates for fair and just housing policies and provides training and access to resources to help families improve their shelter conditions.

Shop for Name Brand Items 24 Hours a Day! WaynesSkiandCycle.net live links to Wayne’s at http://LiveAds.FitnessDigest.us

Registrations are capped at 3,000 runners. If you want to be part of the Deadwood Mickelson Trail Marathon Weekend celebration, go to LiveAds.FitnessDigest.us and click on the MTM Marathon URL. Hope to see you at the Finish Line. - Thanks! Emily Wheeler, Wheeler Event Management Inc.

Mickelson Trail Marathon Charity Partner is the Black Hills Habitat for Humanity. Make your Marathon Matter Matching Funds

Make your Marathon matter by helping create decent shelter in the Black Hills – take the challenge to give at least $1 per race mile. Our goal is to raise $3000 in 2012 for BH Habitat for Humanity to help provide shelter for more families in the Black Hills.

“Hope to see you at the finish line”

To Build a Fire - Hiking the Yukon Trail Short story, fiction. Written by Jack London (1876-1916)

DAY had broken cold and gray, exceedingly cold and gray, when the man turned aside from the main Yukon trail and climbed the high earth-bank, where a dim and little traveled trail led eastward through the fat spruce timberland. It was a steep bank, and he paused for breath at the top, excusing the act to himself by looking at his watch. It was nine o'clock. There was no sun nor hint of sun, though there was not a cloud in the sky. It was a Comment with LiveMedia / LiveAddition links

clear day, and yet there seemed an intangible pall over the face of things, a subtle gloom that made the day dark, and that was due to the absence of sun. This fact did not worry the man. He was used to the lack of sun. It had been days since he had seen the sun, and he knew that a few more-days must pass before that cheerful orb, due south, would just peep above the skyline and dip immediately from view.

To Build a Fire Continued

The man flung a look back along the way he had come. The Yukon lay a mile wide and hidden under three feet of ice. On top of this ice were as many feet of snow. It was all pure white, rolling in gentle, undulations where the ice jams of the freeze-up had formed. North and south, as far as his eye could see, it was unbroken white, save for a dark hairline that curved and twisted from around the spruce-covered island to the south, and that curved and twisted away into the north, where it disappeared behind another spruce-covered island. This dark hair-line was the trail--the main trail--that led south five hundred miles to the Chilcoot Pass, Dyea, and salt water; and that led north seventy miles to Dawson, and still on to the north a thousand miles to Nulato, and finally to St. Michael on Bering Sea, a thousand miles and half a thousand more. But all this--the mysterious, farreaching hair-line trail. The absence of sun from the sky, the tremendous cold, and the strangeness and weirdness of it all--made no

impression on the man. It was not because he was long used to it. He was a newcomer! In the land, a chechaquo, and this was his first winter. The trouble with him was that he was without imagination. He was quick and alert in the things of life, but only in the things, and not in the significances. Fifty degrees below zero meant eighty-odd degrees of frost. Such fact impressed him as being cold and uncomfortable, and that was all. It did not lead him to meditate upon his frailty as a creature of temperature, and upon man's frailty in general, able only to live within certain narrow limits of heat and cold; and from there on it did not lead him to the conjectural field of immortality and man's place in the universe. Fifty degrees below zero stood forte bite of frost that hurt and that must be guarded against by the use of mittens, ear-flaps, warm moccasins, and thick socks. Fifty degrees below zero was to him just precisely fifty degrees below zero. That there should be anything more to it than that was a thought that never entered his head. Continued on page 62

"It is important from time to time to slow down, to go away by yourself, and simply be." --Eileen Caddy

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FitnessDigest.US volume 4 issue 3 summer 2012

U l t r a - S hUltra-Short o r Stories t

S t o r i e s

Let’s Race My son is eight and our family is very active. I'm just hitting my peak racing age of about 34 years old. The family members all support each other’s activities. They are a great cheering section when my wife and I compete in races. There is a popular two mile fun run in our town that we my wife and I run every year. We also have for-fun races with the kids, around the house or across the football field. For years I've let the eight year old win a few and others I win by just a little bit. I think he is wising up to my tactics of good fatherhood. One day he said “Dad, you are letting me win, but I think I can beat you fair and square.” He added, “You’re not that fast. I'll bet you 10 dollars I can beat you in a two mile race.” Wanting to teach him a lesson about spouting off and writing checks his body can't cash I took him up on it. I said, "All right, you pick a time and place." "We will race two miles for 10 dollars." He replied, "You know that two mile race you and mom do every year, I can race you then." I agreed and he quickly added, "I'll need 20 years to warm-up." That would make me 54 and him 28. I’m preparing for the loss and putting 10 dollars aside now.

Motivation

Getting motivated is one of the key aspects of a successful weight-loss program. Without this motivation, there would be no drive to get up early or to avoid eating unhealthy snacks â&#x20AC;&#x201C; that you absolutely love. Yes, you can thank your motivation for that. When you are looking for weight-loss motivation, sometimes it is hard to find. Where can you find that extra "umph" to make it to your goal? The benefits of finding a motivator are something that cannot be paralleled. It has been said, "mind over matter." This coincides with our principle that no matter how hard the task you can accomplish the goal, given the right mindset. It is important to go into a new weight-loss program with a positive mental attitude.

FINDING THEM

Inspiration

In my first creative experience it was through music and I was interested in developing my values of creativity. I was inspired by a band named "Motley Crue" and the song that captured my interest was "Home Sweet home." Dear reader what inspires you? Is it music, or inspirational quote, thought or ideas? To express how this song motivated my interests it helped give me faith in my own creative abilities, in the process I began to write lyrics. I eventually began to work on different styles of writing and broaden my writing skills. What types of music inspire your creative thoughts? What types of other inspiration values inspire your creative thoughts?

Motivation

Inspiration

Anything less can potentially hinder growth towards your goal.

When I was introduced to William Shakespeare I was intrigued by his creative values; and I started to work on developing a different aspect of writing. I then watched the movie "Free Jack" there was a quote by Albert Einstein "Imagination is more important than knowledge." I thought about the in depth values of both concepts, and then I applied both concepts and defined different creative concept. Do you believe that anything is possible if you believe? I know that I do believe that if an individual believes deeply enough one can accomplish their goals! I had to believe in my own abilities and in my dreams; and ignore the negative values that were impressed by others.

Some of the things that you should be thinking about when looking for motivators are people with good morals and a positive attitude. This is because, if the people helping you do not have a positive attitude, then it is also difficult for you. Some great places to look for a motivator are online blogs, in the gym, or even in your own family. I am sure that in all of these places you will see someone else trying to accomplish the same or even more difficult goals than your own. Another key to finding motivation is to let it find you. You should not have to go find a reason to go do something. You will do it because you wanted to, not because you were forced to.

Motivation

More simply put, motivation will find you because you will see something that inspires you to make a change in yourself. That change may be a weightloss goal, or something else. Maybe even an academic goal. The true key is to maintain that motivation until you have achieved your goal. Regards, Vincent Errichiello USMS Swimmer

Inspiration

With believing so deeply within my own abilities and the faith that I could accomplish what I set out to achieve. I wrote a lyric titled: Dreams Are Only Real, and in believing in this concept further defining its true meaning. the concept became Dreams Are Only Real, Until You Don't believe. Jeremy J. Taylor CNFI Publishing

FitnessDigest.US volume 4 issue 3 summer 2012

THROWING

@him

Written by anonymous contributor

Johnny is not the best batter in our little league. Matter-of-fact he is quiet awful. At practice one afternoon Johnny hit a pitch really well. The coach had pitched him inside on accident, far enough inside that it almost hit him. Johnny got his hit by using his bat to defend himself from that arrant pitch. The coach told him “good hit” and Johnny yelled back, “Well! I didn’t want the ball to hit me!!!!” Johnny improved his batting after that. He was hitting the ball almost every time he got up. At one point I said to coach, “How did you get Johnny to improve his batting so quickly?” He replyed, "I'm throwing the ball it AT HIM every time."

FitnessDigest.US volume 4 issue 3 summer 2012

Body image and fitness are hot topics for both men and women. The Great Fitness Experiment is my hilarious, poignant, embarrassing, and at times, heart-breaking journey to find my way through the morass of contradictory claims and information in todayâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s health- and fitness-obsessed world.

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The Fall of Billy Hitchings by Kirkus MacGowan LOCATED IN ST. ANSGAR, IOWA

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Swim Signs - Lunker

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I was standing on shore fishing in my favorite spot. A guy I’ve never seen at the pond gets in and starts swimming. After about 25 minutes of back and forth he stops at a place about 30 yards off shore. He gives me a quick look and dices down below the water. His next lap he stops in the same place, looks at me again and points down at the water. He finished his swim and left. I picked up my gear and moved to the other side of the outlet just a few yards from where he had stopped twice...... Caught a lunker in the first cast!

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FitnessDigest.US volume 4 issue 3 summer 2012

S T E E W TOP T Iowa Cubs (@IowaCubs) Thanks to all our fans who showed up for the pre-game on-field catch with dad!

U.S. Paralympics (@USParalympics) Want to be introduced to Paralympic sport? Attend one of the Paralympic Experiences being held throughout the country:

Everyday Health (@WomensCancer) 63,000 Americans will be diagnosed w/ malignant melanoma (the deadliest skin #cancer) this year. Know your risk:

I Swim I Suffer (@ISwimISuffer) @thatswimmerwho If the water is in your right ear for example then jump on your right leg and lean your head to the right side while jumping

SwimSwam (@swimswamnews) Congrats to @KenyaSwimmer on being selected to carry the Kenya flag! swimswam.com

I Swim and I Know It (@iSwimWithIssues) During the summer you shower 467 times at the pool, 17 times at hotels, and 3 times at your house. #Truth

Softball Darlin' (@Softball_Darlin) My mom told me our team was gettin white uniforms for summer, & to "try not" to get them dirty? Uh. Have you seen me play? Not gonna happen.

Better than sharing on a blog, Twitter or Facebook and you can share a story even if you donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t maintain a social-web presence. Published for ALL FitnessDigest.us readers.

Louise Pineda (@forerunnerGPS) The pessimist sees difficulty in every opportunity. The optimist sees the opportunity in every difficulty. Winston Churchill #quotes

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FitnessDigest.US volume 4 issue 3 summer 2012

SPAM DIET ? Funnest thing: SPAM about some weight-loss supplements got posted on a friend’s Facebook. My friend is an ultra-runner. I notice there was also an ad for salami recipes on the same page! The recipes were right next to the SPAM about diet-pills! Let’s see – it sounds like the beginning of a good joke. Q: What do you get when a friend tries to sell you ultra-runner endorsed, salamiflavored-SPAM, diet-pills on Facebook. Answer: Sick

SUBMOM MYBLOG Visit the Suburban Mommy blog and learn more about Atresia/ Microtia, a birth defect of the inner ear. For links to SubMommy blog http://LiveAds.FitnessDigest.us

Unsung Heroes 1. I’ve never swam open water and wanted to do a triathlon. A friend that races open water took extra time to swim with me at a lake. I was much more comfortable after that. 2. I was going on vacation and needed advice on a place to swim. A friend living in the area took the time to help me find people to answer my questions. 3. I was over eating and had complained to my friend about it. She called me twice a day for three weeks just to remind me to eat healthy. 4. I usually run to and from the gym. It takes about 30 minutes to run both ways. I didn’t have enough time to get there and back before a scheduled appointment I had. A friend drove me to the gym, saving me about 30 minutes. I was able to run home and still had time to get to my appointment.

On Wednesday, May 16, 2012 at 7 PM simultaneous rides occurred around the USA and the world. We all ride. Now we can ride as one. One day. One time. One world, world wide. Let the silence roar.

322 locations world wide

The Ride of Silence... Tonight we number many but ride as one In honor of those not with us, friends, mothers, fathers, sisters, sons With helmets on tight and heads down low, We ride in silence, cautious and slow The wheels start spinning in the lead pack But tonight we ride and no one attacks The dark sunglasses cover our tears Remembering those we held so dear Tonight's ride is to make others aware The road is there for all to share To those not with us or by our side, May God be your partner on your final ride - Mike Murgas

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50 states

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7 Continents

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0 words spoken

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1 million memories

“Cost-effective investments in bicycling boost our economy, help individuals and government agencies save money, and directly address key societal challenges such as obesity and road congestion. In these tough economic times, our federal government can only afford to invest in solutions that solve multiple problems. Bicycling fits the bill!” – PeopleForBikes.org

This photo collection was taken by Robert LaVallee of Mason City, IA. To see his entire collection visit http://LiveAds.FitnessDigest.us

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FitnessDigest.US volume 4 issue 3 summer 2012

swimming shorts

Endless Pools Testimonials. For more information visit http://LIveAds.FitnessDigest.us

"It provides an outstanding aerobic workout in less than half the time we would spend in still water. It has allowed us as swim coaches to observe swimmers' stroke characteristics up close and to see the effects of fatigue on stroke mechanics." ~ Larry L., Chazy, NY "Swimming is an excellent exercise, and now I can swim every day because it's so convenient and private. I can swim when I want and how long I want. I'm able to have it at a temperature that is comfortable to me. The small size of an Endless Pool enabled me to install a pool where I could not install a regular size one." "As an aging baby boomer nutrition professional, I have yearned for consistent exercise that doesn't stress joints and will enable me to attain physical fitness, cardiovascular health and weight control. I can eat what I want and still firm up and lose weight." ~ John C., Columbus, OH "Endless Pools make for long swims in small places. The 8'x15' Endless Pool is less than regulation size, but offers the same benefits as a very large pool." ~ Noah H., Connecticut Post "The Endless Pool is a great strength builder. I am amazed at the strength of the current I now swim against. I did not buy it for that reason, but because of my arthritis, so the strength gain is a wonderful surprise.

FitnessDigest.US volume 4 issue 3 summer 2012

U l t r a - S hUltra-Short o r Stories t Baseball Walking Stick My son's friend grabbed his baseball bat and said to me, "this is my walking stick". I politely ask him why he calls it that. He replied "because my dad says, if I hit a home run with it I don’t have to run the bases – I can walk."

My Bike

S t o r i e s

Are you moving to a new state? Already hired your mover? E-mail blind box at box02@FitnessDigest.us will get you the best rates on cable, phone and internet.

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My mountain bike was stolen a while back and my kids were really upset. I've been riding my road bike in it's Increase your visitor page North Iowa Roads place. Since then I've been careful to views and Facebook Likes. lock my bike up when we go to the park. On this occasion I did not lock-up my son’s bike up with mine. He looked at me quizzically and said sternly, "lock my bike up too!" I tried to explain that his bike was not as expensive and therefor didn't need to be locked up. Boy, that was a mistake. He made me feel a little dumb when he said, "Dad. I don't care how expensive it is. It's the only bike I’ve got."

PARENT

October

September

By FitnessDigest.us staff writer. J.G.A.

August

parent sports tip

National Calendar

Keeping Kids Focused Organize their thoughts. Help them prioritize and make decisions based on value. Even kids can understand the value of simple non-monetized choices. Questions like, “Should I finish playing my gameboy game or pause it when they call my swimming event?” If kids are taught to make good decisions and not just find quick answers, everyone wins.

TIP

August Golf Month 5th Friendship Day 15th Relaxation Day 25th Kiss and Make Up Day 31st Trail Mix Day September Little League Month 12th Chocolate Milk Shake Day 13th Positive Thinking Day 16th Women’s Friendship Day 21st Miniature Golf Day October Breast Cancer Awareness Month National Diabetes Month 1st World Vegetarian Day 4th Golf Day 25th World Pasta Day

Stay in touch with your Encourage; friendships, writing swimming or triathlon buddies! skills, sharing thoughts and Variety of pricing. From single orders to experiences. bulk orders of 24 notecards. EightLearn different cards! more online. "YAGOTTAWANNA"

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Entertainment & Inspiration

A few years back we had a hot-spell similar to this year’s record heat. I remember training for a long run and having to stop at the local swimming hole to cool off. I literally took off my shoes and jumped in with my running clothes on, I was so hot.

Coach Miller’s Quarterly Challenge Stay safe in the heat. By Mark Miller, m.miller@FitnessDigest.us

It is better to be safe then to try to beat the heat. There are many options to stay cool and run during a hotsummer day. Staying inside and running on the treadmill is a good one. Remember staying safe is a top priority. Most workouts can be modified to work indoors. This issue’s workout is to do your usual run or interval set, just stay inside and run it on the treadmill. Visualize the different landmarks to see during your outdoor run.

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FitnessDigest.US volume 4 issue 3 summer 2012

OPEN WATER SWIMMING, BY THE NUMBERS

In kilometers: The shortest open water race included in the Fina World Championships.

The minimum open water distance, in kilometers, that is considered a swimmingmarathon.

107 1000

How many miles it is to swim from Cuba to the USA.

Number of swimming strokes in a mile, for a typical swimmer.

31,800

About the number of calories it takes to swim 100 miles.

Open water safety means swimming in shallow water, where there is a lifeguard or using an escort.

LOCATED IN ST. ANSGAR, IOWA

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swimming shorts Stories sent in by Robert Steele

Googles Swimming fans can really appreciate a 200 IM when their goggles fill with water. How about an Olympian? Swimming a leg of the 400 Free Relay with his goggles across his opened mouth – and going :45’s. A great team swimmer, an Olympian wouldn’t let down his teammates by throwing them off or fixing them.

500 Fly A world class butterflyer, asked if he could swim butterfly in the 500 yard freestyle during a dual meet. His goal was to break five minutes. After considering the competition, it seemed like a great way to make him really work a hard fly swim so we agreed. Problem was he swam a 5:02 and the opposing coach complained to the officials because he embarrassed his swimmers. Oh well, you can’t win ‘em all.

U l t r a - S hUltra-Short o r Stories t

S t o r i e s

No-No-No The other morning I was teaching front-streamlines to snotty nosed 8 year olds (some are literally snotty-nosed). One boy was taking a big gulp of air and holding his breath. When he lifted his head he had to exhale and inhale before submerging again. Swimmers will understand this does not work very well. Kids need to learn to exhale underwater. The first time he did it I told him to exhale underwater. The second time I stopped him, looked him in the eye and reminded him to exhale underwater. The third and fourth times I started to get a little frustrated. “Johnny, you need to exhale underwater so you can breath better.” The fifth time, as his head popped up for a breath, I quickly asked, “Johnny! Do you even know what exhale means?” as he submerged his head below the water I could see him shake his head, no-no-no!

Favorite Potato Chips We try to limit the junk food the kids eat at our house. For lunch one day our son wanted some potato chips. I gave him 3 large chips with his sandwich. He started to cry and said he wanted one more chip. “I wanted four chips!”, he screamed. I took the plate back. When he wasn't looking I broke a chip in half and give it back to him with four chips.

I’m Su a

FitnessDigest.US volume 4 issue 3 summer 2012

Written by Brandi Shipman, Texas

r v i vo

My cancer story is one of uniqueness. Leave it to me to do something like cancer to its fullest. It did not begin with a mammogram diagnosis or a lump. My journey began about 4 years ago with some suspicious activity that turned into Paget’s disease of the nipple which signaled the underlying cancer. On April 1st I found out about my breast cancer through a biopsy that came back as positive for Paget’s disease. The onslaught of tests, learning, and decisions were dizzying. I immediately went for an evaluation of the suspicious tissue and had to begin making decisions for my mastectomy. I quickly learned there is a test called the BRAC Analysis which is a genetic test for breast and ovarian cancer. Finally, a piece of good news for me, I did not have the gene. Decisions Now it was time to make decisions about my mastectomy and how I was going to handle reconstruction. I discussed my options with my boyfriend Brian, friends, family members, and even my principal/boss. I read books, searched the Internet, and contacted people I

Brandi Shipman Cancer Survivor and elite triathlete.

Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;m Su a

FitnessDigest.US volume 4 issue 3 summer 2012

Written by Brandi Shipman, Texas

r v i vo

know and knew from my past that had been directly affected and that I thought might have answers for me. The outpouring of love, encouragement, and help during this process was overwhelming. After meeting with four different doctors, two surgeons and two plastic surgeons, I decided to go with immediate reconstruction and was lucky enough to find two wonderful doctors. They were willing to work together, just because I wanted them to, even though they had never done so before. My surgery was scheduled for mid May. Mental Toughness My mental preparation at this point was very important. I had to scrap any idea of competing in triathlons for the rest of the year and focus on a positive attitude of getting better. I stopped thinking about what I wasnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t going to able to do and started thinking about what I could do, that I was alive and kept my mind on the fact that so many others had made it before me.

I’m Su a

Written by Brandi Shipman, Texas

r v i vo

Part 2

the most powerful picture

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I was prepared by the doctors, survivors, and literature to be “down” for several weeks after my surgery. I even took the rest of the school year off. My surgery went well and I was out of the hospital the next day. A few friends came to visit while I was in the hospital and my principal and vice principal brought the most wonderful picture of the faculty wearing pink for me. I can only imagine what it looked like at Thornton Elementary on that day in May 2009, a sea of pink all for Brandi Shipman. Shortly after their visit, I received a text from my friend Margie Massey. My friends from the gym wore pink for me that day as well. The support brought tears to my eyes. I was so excited to come home and be comfortable in my own home. I just wish the stupid drain that was attached could have stayed at the hospital. The pain from that was worse than the pain from the mastectomy.

I’m Su a

FitnessDigest.US volume 4 issue 3 summer 2012

Written by Brandi Shipman, Texas

r v i vo

Recovery – May Once I got home, I slept and watched a lot of T.V. Friends visited and brought yummy food and my favorites I am not supposed to eat. I ate them all. My friend and coworker set up a cancer care calendar that alerted anyone who logged on when I was having a doctor’s appointment or when I was in need of anything. I felt like royalty as everyone took care of me. I think Brian secretly enjoyed the fact that he wouldn’t have to cook for me each night. My recovery was quicker than I thought as I was doing my best to get better and get the stinkin’ drain out of my skin. I was out walking within a week and running within 3 weeks. I couldn’t believe my recovery. I know it was from all the prayers, love, and good care from Brian and the loved ones around me. Life was looking better each day.

“Life was looking better each day.” Part three and part four of I am Survivor will be published in the next edition of FitnessDigest.us

ience of n e v n o c e Get th ery!! digital-deliv scribe at b u s r o p u Sign sDigest.us s e n it /F :/ p tt h

FitnessDigest.US volume 4 issue 3 summer 2012

During the past 150 years, we have witnessed many remarkable advances against cancer, a disease known to humanity for thousands of years. The advances highlighted below represent a sampling of what has been accomplished to date.

1882

1882 William Halsted performs the first radical mastectomy to treat breast cancer. In this surgical procedure, the entire breast, the lymph nodes under the arm (axillary lymph nodes), and the chest muscles behind the breast (pectoralis major and pectoralis minor muscles) are removed. Radical mastectomy will remain the standard operation for breast cancer until latter half of the 20th century, when the use of modified radical mastectomy becomes widely accepted.

1932

1932 David H. Patey develops the modified radical mastectomy for breast cancer. In this surgical procedure, the entire breast, axillary lymph nodes, and pectoralis minor muscle behind the breast are removed. The modified radical mastectomy is less disfiguring than the radical mastectomy and will eventually replace the radical mastectomy as a standard treatment option for breast cancer.

1953

1953 James Watson and Francis Crick discover the molecular structure of DNA (the double helix).

1963

1963 The Health Insurance Plan (HIP) of Greater New York Study begins. HIP is the first randomized controlled trial of periodic breast cancer screening with mammography.

From the website of the National Cancer Institute (http://www.cancer.gov)

FitnessDigest.US volume 4 issue 3 summer 2012

Although we still have a long way to go to reduce the toll of cancer in the United States and worldwide, our research and public health efforts are beginning to pay dividends.

1976

1976 The results of a randomized clinical trial show that women with early breast cancer who receive post-operative (adjuvant) combination chemotherapy with the drugs cyclophosphamide, methotrexate, and 5-FU have improved disease-free survival.

1981

1981 A randomized clinical trial in the United Kingdom shows, for the first time, that the rates of survival, local recurrence, and tumor metastasis among women whose breast cancer is treated with modified radical mastectomy are not substantially different from those of women who are treated with radical mastectomy.

1993

1993 An NCI-convened international workshop on screening for breast cancer reports that screening with mammography reduces breast cancer mortality among women ages 50-69. This conclusion is based on a review of published and unpublished data from eight randomized controlled trials.

2004

2004 Data from the Women's Health Initiative (WHI) study show that women who take estrogen in combination with the hormone progestin have a greater risk of developing breast cancer than women who take estrogen alone. The results also show that menopausal hormone therapy with estrogen alone has no benefit in disease prevention, specifically in reducing the risks of colorectal cancer, coronary heart disease, and dementia.

From the website of the National Cancer Institute (http://www.cancer.gov)

FitnessDigest.US volume 4 issue 3 summer 2012

U l t r a - S hUltra-Short o r Stories t Volunteering vs Participating My girl friend and I are involved in the Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation. The local chapter raises awareness for the cause with a funrun each year. We have volunteered to help with the race five years in a row. This year we were stationed at a water table where the runners pick-up cups of water to drink. Toward the end of the race there are very few runners. There was a little time to chat about things. We were talking about what we would wish for if we could have three wishes. I told her I would wish for an end to Juvenile Diabetes and to lose 10 pounds. Being nice I said, â&#x20AC;&#x153;you can have my last wish.â&#x20AC;? She said, "I wish you would skip volunteering and just run this race next year."

S t o r i e s

Admission Price Our aquatic center was having a promotion one night and advertised an elementary school night. The kids could swim for free. When we got to the pool we saw a promotional sign for the event. In small lettering it read "All swimmers must be accompanied by an adult." We thought no big deal, one of us can just stay and watch. When we got to the front desk we found the lifeguard was enforcing the adult-admission price of $8. CNFI Publishing - Products: Books, Chapbooks, Bookmarks, Plaques and Poetry Collector Cards. Merchandising Products: Coffee Mugs, Mouse Pads, Tiles 3x6", Coasters, T - Shirts and Wall Plaques. More info at http://liveads.FitnessDigest.us

FitnessDigest.US volume 4 issue 3 summer 2012

Featured Photos! FitnessDigest.us feature

Chicago open water swim course at night. top left

Kids race at Bicycle Blues and BBQ top right

Some team members volunteer at the local soup kitchen. middle right

Ken Mauer loads the balls for hitting practice during a Twins baseball camp for children 7-13. bottom right

Get your local event photos published in the next issue of FitnessDigest.us. E-mail your photo to photo@FitnessDigest.us

To Build a Fire Continued

As he turned to go on, he spat speculatively. There was a sharp, explosive crackle that startled him. He spat again. And again, in the air, before it could fall to the snow, the spittle crackled. He knew that at fifty below spittle crackled on the snow, but this spittle had crackled in the air. Undoubtedly it was colder than fifty below--how much colder he did not know. But the temperature did not matter. He was bound for the old claim on the left fork of Henderson Creek, where the boys were already. They had come over across the divide from the Indian Creek country, while he had come the roundabout way to take; a look at the possibilities of getting out logs in the spring from the islands in the Yukon. He would be in to camp by six o'clock; a bit after dark, it was true, but the boys would be there, a fire would be going, and a hot supper would be ready. As for lunch, he pressed his hand against the protruding bundle under his jacket. It was also under his shirt, wrapped up in a handkerchief and lying against the naked skin. It was the only way to keep the biscuits from freezing. He smiled agreeably to himself as he thought of those biscuits, each cut open and sopped in bacon grease, and each enclosing a generous slice of fried bacon. He plunged in among the big spruce trees. The trail was faint. A foot of snow had fallen since the last sled had passed over, and he was glad he was without a sled, traveling light. In fact, he carried nothing but the lunch wrapped in the handkerchief. He was surprised, however, at the cold. It certainly was cold, he concluded as he rubbed his numb nose and cheek-bones with his mittened hand. He was a warm-whiskered man, but the hair on his face did not protect the high cheek-bones and the eager nose that thrust itself aggressively into the frosty air. At the man's heels trotted a dog, a big native husky, the proper wolf-dog, gray-coated and without any visible or temperamental difference from its brother, the wild wolf. The animal was depressed by the tremendous cold. It knew that it was no time for

traveling. Its instinct told it a truer tale than was told to the man by the man's judgment. In reality, it was not merely colder than fifty below zero; it was colder than sixty below, than seventy below. It was seventyfive below zero. Since the freezing point is thirty-two above zero, it meant that one hundred and seven degrees of frost obtained. The dog did not know anything about thermometers. Possibly in its brain there was no sharp consciousness of a condition of very cold such as was in the man's brain. But the brute had its instinct. It experienced a vague but menacing apprehension that subdued it then made it slink along at the man's heels, and that made it question eagerly every unwonted movement of the man as if expecting him to go into camp or to seek shelter somewhere and build a fire. The dog had learned fire, and it wanted fire, or else to burrow under the snow and cuddle its warmth away from the air. The frozen moisture of its breathing had settled on its fur in a fine powder of frost, and especially were its jowls, muzzle, and eyelashes whitened by its cry-stalled breath. The man's red beard and mustache were likewise frosted, but more solidly, the deposit taking the form of ice and increasing with every warm, moist breath he exhaled. Also, the man was chewing tobacco, and the muzzle of ice held his lips so rigidly that he was unable to clear his chin when he expelled the juice. The result was that a crystal beard of the color and solidity of amber was increasing its length on his chin. If he fell down it would shatter itself, like glass, into brittle fragments. But he did not mind the appendage. It was the penalty all tobacco-chewers paid in that country, and he had been out before in two cold snaps. They had not been so cold as this, he knew, but by the spirit thermometer at Sixty Mile he knew they had been registered at fifty below and at fifty-five. He held on through the level stretch of woods for several miles, crossed a wide flat of rigger-heads, and dropped down a bank to the frozen bed of a

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small stream. This was Henderson Creek, and he knew he was ten miles from the forks. He looked at his watch. It was ten o'clock. He was making four miles an hour, and he calculated that he would arrive at the forks at half-past twelve. He decided to celebrate that event by eating his lunch there. The dog dropped in again at his heels, with a tail drooping discouragement, as the man swung along the creek-bed. The furrow of the old sled-trail was plainly visible, but a dozen inches of snow covered the marks of the last runners. In a month no man had come up or down that silent creek. The man held steadily on. He was not much given to thinking, and just then particularly he had nothing to think about save that he would eat lunch at-the forks and that at six o'clock he would be in camp with the boys. There was nobody to talk to; and, had there been, speech would have been impossible because of the ice-muzzle on his mouth. So he continued monotonously to chew tobacco and to increase the length of his amber beard. Once in a while the thought reiterated itself that it was very cold and that he had never experienced such cold. As he walked along he rubbed his cheekbones and nose with the back of his mittened hand. He did this automatically, now and again changing hands. But rub as he would, the instant he stopped his cheek-bones went numb, and the following instant the end of his nose went numb. He was sure to frost his cheeks; he knew that, and experienced a pang of regret that he had not devised a nose-strap of the sort Bud wore in cold snaps. Such a strap passed across the cheeks, as well, and saved them. But it didn't matter much, after all. What were frosted cheeks? A bit painful, that was all; they were never serious. Empty as the man's mind was of thoughts, he was keenly observant, and he noticed the changes in the creek, the curves and bends and timber jams, and always he sharply noted where he placed his feet. Once coming around a bend, he shied abruptly,

like a startled horse, curved away from the place where he had been walking, and retreated several paces back along the trail. The creek he knew was frozen clear to the bottom,--no creek could contain water in that arctic winter,--but he knew also that there were springs that bubbled out from the hillsides and ran along under the snow and on top the ice of the creek. He knew that the coldest snaps never froze these springs, and he knew likewise their danger. They were traps. They hid pools of water under the snow that might be three inches deep, or three feet. Sometimes a skin of ice. half an inch thick covered them, and in turn was covered by the snow Sometimes there were alternate layers of water and ice-skin, so that when one broke through he kept on breaking through for a while, sometimes wetting himself to the waist. That was why he had shied in such panic. He had felt the give under his feet and heard the crackle of a snow-hidden ice-skin. And to get his feet wet in such a temperature meant trouble and danger. At the very least it meant delay, for he would be forced to stop and build a fire, and under its protection to bare his feet while he dried his socks and moccasins. He stood and studied the creek-bed and its banks, and decided that the flow of water came from the right. He reflected a while, rubbing his nose and cheeks, then skirted to the left, stepping gingerly and testing the footing for each step. Once clear of the danger, he took a fresh chew of tobacco and swung along at his four-mile gait. In the course of the next two hours he came upon several similar traps. Usually the snow above the hidden pools had a sunken, candied appearance that advertised the danger. Once again, however, he had a close call; and once, suspecting danger, he compelled the dog to go on in front. The dog did not want to go. It hung back until the man shoved it forward, and then it went quickly across the white, unbroken surface. Suddenly it broke through, floundered to one side, and got away to firmer

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footing. It had wet its forefeet and legs, and almost immediately the water that clung to it turned to ice. It made quick efforts to lick the ice off its legs, then dropped down in the snow and began to bite out the ice that had formed between the toes. l his was a matter of instinct. To permit the ice to remain would mean sore feet. It did not know this. It merely obeyed the mysterious prompting that arose from the deep crypts of its being. But the man knew, having achieved a judgment on the subject, and he removed the mitten from his right hand and helped tear out the ice-particles. He did not expose his fingers more than a minute, and was astonished at the swift numbness that smote them. It certainly was cold. He pulled on the mitten hastily, and beat the hand savagely across his chest. At twelve o'clock the day was at its brightest. Yet the sun was too; far south an its winter journey to clear the horizon. The bulge of the earth intervened between it arid Henderson Creek, where the man walked under a clear sky at noon and cast no shadow. At half-past twelve, to the minute, he arrived at the forks of the creek. He was. pleased at the speed he had made. If he kept it up, he would certainly be with the boys by six. He unbuttoned his jacket and shirt and drew forth his lunch. The action consumed no more than a quarter of a minute, yet in that brief moment the numbness laid hold of the exposed fingers. He did not put the mitten on, but, instead struck the fingers a dozen sharp smashes against his leg. Then he sat down on a snow-covered log to eat. The sting that followed upon the striking of his fingers against his leg ceased so quickly that he was startled. He had had no chance to take a bite of biscuit. He struck the fingers repeatedly and returned them to the mitten, baring the other hand for the purpose of eating, He tried to take a mouthful, but the ice-muzzle prevented. He had forgotten to build a fire and thaw out. He chuckled at his foolishness, and as he chuckled he noted the numbness creeping into the exposed fingers. Also, he noted that the stinging which had first come to his

toes when he sat down was already passing away. He wandered whether the toes were warm or numb. He moved them inside the moccasins and decided that they were numb. He pulled the mitten on hurriedly and stood up. He was a bit frightened. He stamped up and down until the stinging returned into the feet. It certainly was cold, was his thought. That man from Sulphur Creek had spoken the truth when telling how cold it sometimes got in the country. And he had laughed at him at the time! That showed one must not be too sure of things. There was no mistake about it, it was cold. He strode up and down, stamping his feet and threshing his arms, until reassured by the returning warmth. Then he got out matches and proceeded to make a fire. From the undergrowth, where high water of the previous spring had lodged a supply of seasoned twigs, he got his firewood. Working carefully from a small beginning, he soon had a roaring fire, over which he thawed the ice from his face and in the protection of which he ate his biscuits. For the moment the cold space was outwitted. The dog took satisfaction in the fire, stretching out close enough for warmth and far enough away to escape being singed. When the man had finished, be filled his pipe and took his comfortable time over a smoke. Then he pulled on his mittens, settled the ear-flaps of his cap firmly about his ears, and took the creek trail up the left fork. The dog was disappointed and yearned back toward the fire. This man did not know cold. Possibly all the generations of his ancestry had been ignorant of cold of real cold, of cold one hundred and seven degrees below freezing point. But the dog knew; all its ancestry knew, and it had inherited the knowledge. And it knew that it was not good to walk abroad in such fearful cold. It was the time to lie snug in a hole in the snow and wait for a curtain of cloud to be drawn across the face of outer space whence this cold came. On the other hand, there was no keen intimacy between the dog and the man.

To Build a Fire Continued

The one was the toil-slave of the other, and the only caresses it had ever received were the caresses of the whiplash and of harsh and menacing throat-sounds that threatened the whiplash. So, the dog made no effort to communicate its apprehension to the man. It was not concerned in the welfare of the man, it was for its own sake that it yearned back toward the fire. But the man whistled, and spoke to it with the sound of whiplashes and the dog swung in at the man's heel and followed after. The man took a chew of tobacco and proceeded to start a new amber beard. Also, his moist breath quickly powdered with white his mustache, eyebrows, and lashes. There did not seem to be so many springs on the left fork of the Henderson, and for half an hour the man saw no signs of any. And then it happened. At a place where there were no signs, where the soft, unbroken snow seemed to advertise solidity beneath, tee man broke through. It was not deep. He wet himself halfway to the knees before he floundered out to the firm crust. He was angry, and cursed his luck aloud. He had hoped to get into camp with the boys at six o'clock, and this would delay him an hour, for he would have to build a fire and dry out his foot-gear. This was imperative at that low temperature--he knew that much; and he turned aside to the bank, which he climbed. On top, tangled in the underbrush about the trunks of several small spruce trees, was a high-water deposit of dry firewood-sticks and twigs, principally, but also larger portions of seasoned branches and fine, dry, last-year's grasses. He threw down several large pieces on top of the snow. This served for a foundation and prevented the young flame from drowning itself in the snow it otherwise would melt. The flame he got by touching a match to a small shred of birch bark that he took from his pocket. This burned even more readily than paper. Placing it on the foundation, he fed the young flame with wisps of dry grass and with the tiniest dry twigs.

He worked slowly and carefully, keenly aware of his danger. Gradually, as the flame grew stronger, he increased the size of the twigs with which he fed it. He squatted in the snow, pulling the twigs out from their entanglement in the brush and feeding directly to the flame. He knew there must be no failure. When it is seventy-five below zero, a man must not fail in his first attempt to build a fire--that is, if his feet are wet. If his feet are dry, and he fails, he can run along the trail for half a mile and restore his circulation. But the circulation of wet and freezing feet cannot be restored by running when it is seventy-five below. No matter how fast he runs, the wet feet will freeze the harder. All this the man knew. The old-timer on Sulphur Creek had told him about it the previous fall, and now he was appreciating the advice. Already all sensation had gone out of his feet. To build the fire he had been forced to remove his mittens, and the fingers had quickly gone numb. His pace of four miles an hour had kept his heart pumping blood to the surface of his body and to all the extremities. But the instant he stopped, the action of the pump eased down. The cold of space smote the unprotected tip of the planet, and he, being on that unprotected tip, received the full force of the blow. The blood of his body recoiled before it. The blood was alive, like the dog, and like the dog it wanted to hide away and cover itself up from the fearful cold. So long as he walked four miles an hour, he pumped that blood, willy-nilly, to the surface; but now it ebbed away and sank down into the recesses of his body. The extremities were the first to feel its absence. His wet feet froze the faster, and his exposed fingers numbed the faster, though they had not yet begun to freeze. Nose and cheeks were already freezing, while the skin of all his body chilled as it lost its blood. But he was safe. Toes and nose and cheeks would be only touched by the frost, for the fire was beginning to burn with strength. He was feeding it

To Build a Fire Continued

with twigs the size of his finger. In another minute he would be able to feed it with branches the size of his wrier, and then he could remove his wet toot-gear, and, while it dried, he could keep his naked feet warm by the fire, rubbing them at first, of course, with snow. The fire was a success. He was safe. He remembered the advice of the old timer on Sulphur Creek, and smiled. The old-timer had been very serious in laying down the law that no man must travel alone in the Klondike after fifty below. Well, here he was; he had had the accident; he was alone; and he had saved himself. Those old-timers were rather womanish, some of them, he thought. All a man had to do was to keep his head, and he was all right. Any man who was a man could travel alone. But it was surprising, the rapidity with which his cheeks and nose were freezing. And he had not thought his fingers could go lifeless in so short a time. Lifeless they were, for he could scarcely make them move together to grip a twig, and they seemed remote from his body and from him. When he touched a twig, he had to look and see whether or not he had hold of it. The wires were pretty well down between him and his fingerends. All of which counted for little. There was the fire, snapping and crackling and promising life with every dancing flame. He started to untie his moccasins. They were coated with ice; the thick German socks were like sheaths of iron halfway to the knees; and the moccasin strings were like rods of steel all twisted and knotted as by some conflagration. For a moment he tugged with his numb fingers, then, realizing the folly of it, he drew his sheath-knife. But before he could cut the strings, it happened. It was his own fault or, rather, his mistake. He should not have built the fire under the spruce tree. He should have built it in the open. But it had been easier to pull the twigs from the brush and drop them directly on the fire. Now the tree under which

he had done this carried a weight of snow on its boughs. No wind had blown for weeks, and each bough was fully freighted. Each time he had pulled a twig he had communicated a slight agitation to the tree--an imperceptible agitation, so far as he was concerned, but an agitation sufficient to bring about the disaster. High up in the tree one bough capsized its load of snow. This fell on the boughs beneath, capsizing them. This process continued, spreading out and involving the whole tree. It grew like an avalanche, and it descended without warning upon the man and the fire, and the fire was blotted out! Where it had burned was a mantle of fresh and disordered snow. The man was shocked. It was as though he had just heard his own sentence of death. For a moment he sat and stared at the spot where the fire had been. Then he grew very calm. Perhaps the old-timer on Sulphur Creek was right. If he had only had a trailmate he would have been in no danger now. The trail-mate could have built the fire. Well, it was up to him to build the fire over again, and this second time there must be no failure. Even if he succeeded, he would most likely lose some toes His feet must be badly frozen by now, and there would be some time before the second fire Was ready. Such were his thoughts, but he did not sit and think them. He was busy all the time they were passing through his mind. He made a new foundation for a fire, this time in the open, where no treacherous tree could blot it out. Next, he gathered dry grasses and tiny twigs from the high-water flotsam. He could not bring his fingers together to pull them out, but he was able to gather them by the handful. In this way he got many rotten twigs and bits of green moss that were undesirable, but it was the best he could do. He worked methodically, even collecting an armful of the larger branches to be used later when the fire gathered strength. And all the while the dog sat and watched him, a certain yearning wistfulness in its eyes, for it looked upon

To Build a Fire Continued

him as the fire-provider, and the fire was slow in coming. When all was ready, the man reached in his pocket for a second piece of birch bark. He knew the bark was there, and, though he could not feel it with his fingers, he could hear its crisp rustling as he fumbled for it. Try as he would, he could not clutch hold of it. And all the time in his consciousness, was the knowledge that each instant his feet were freezing. This thought tended to put him in a panic, but he fought against it and kept calm. He pulled on his mittens with his teeth, and threshed his arms back and forth, beating his hands with all his might against his sides. He did this sitting down, and he stood up to do it; and all the while the do,g sat in the snow, its wolf-brush of a tail curled around warmly over its forefeet, its sharp wolf-ears pricked forward intently as it watched the man And the man, as he beat and threshed with his arms and hands, felt a great surge of envy as he regarded the creature that was warm ant secure in its natural covering. After a time he was aware of the first far-away signals of sensation in his beaten fingers. The faint tingling grew stronger till it evolved into a stinging ache that was excruciating, but which the man hailed with satisfaction. He stripped the mitten from his right hand and fetched forth the birch bark. The exposed fingers were quickly going numb again. Next he brought out his bunch of sulphur matches. But the tremendous cold had already driven the life out of his fingers. In his effort to separate one match from the others, the whole bunch fell in the snow. He tried to pick it out of the snow, but failed. The dead fingers could neither touch nor clutch. He was very careful. He drove the thought of his freezing feet, and nose, and cheeks, out of his mind, devoting his whole soul to the matches. He watched, using the sense of vision in place of that of touch, and when he saw his fingers on each side the bunch, he dosed them--that is, he willed to close them, for the wires were down, and the fingers did not obey. He pulled

the mitten on the right hand and beat it fiercely against his knee. Then. with both mittened hands, he scooped the bunch of matches, along with much snow, into his lap. Yet he was no better off. After some manipulation he managed to get the bunch between the heels of his mittened hands. In this fashion he carried it to his mouth. The ice crackled and snapped when by a violent effort he opened his mouth. He drew the lower jaw in, curled the upper lip out of the way, and scraped the bunch with his upper teeth in order to separate a match. He succeeded in getting one, which he dropped on his lap. He was no better off. He could not pick it up. Then he devised a way. He picked it up in his teeth and scratched it on his leg. Twenty times he scratched before he succeeded in lighting it. As it flamed he held it with his teeth to the birch bark. But the burning brimstone went up his nostrils and into his lungs, causing him to cough spasmodically. The match fell into the snow and went out. The old-timer an Sulphur Creek was right, he thought in the moment of controlled despair that ensued after fifty below, a man should travel with a partner. He beat his hands, but failed in exciting any sensation. Suddenly he bared both hands, removing the mittens with his teeth. He caught the whole bunch between the heels of his hands. His arm muscles not being frozen enabled him to press the hand-heels tightly against the matches. Then he scratched the bunch along his leg It flared into flame, seventy sulphur matches at once! There was no wind to blow them out He kept his head to one side to escape the strangling fumes, and held the blazing bunch to the birth bark. As he so held it, he became aware of sensation in his hand. His flesh was burning. He could smell it. Deep down below the surface he could feel it. The sensation developed into pain that grew acute. And still he endured, it holding the flame of the matches clumsily to the bark that would not light readily because his own burning hands were in the way, absorbing most of the flame.

To Build a Fire Continued

At last, when he could endure no more, he jerked his hands apart. The blazing matches fell sizzling into the snow, but the birch bark was alight. He began laying dry grasses and the tiniest twigs on the flame. He could not pick and choose, for he had to lift the fuel between the heels of his hands. Small pieces of rotten wood and green moss clung to the twigs, and he bit them off as well as he could with his teeth. He cherished the flame carefully and awkwardly. It meant life, and it must not perish. The withdrawal of blood from the surface of his body now made him begin to shiver, and he grew more awkward. A large piece of green moss fell squarely on the little fire. He tried to poke it out with his fingers, but his shivering frame made him poke too far and he disrupted the nucleus of the little fire, the burning grasses and tiny twigs separating and scattering. He tried to poke them together again, but in spite of the tenseness of the effort, his shivering got away with him, and the twigs were hopelessly scattered. Each twig gushed a puff of smoke and went out. The fire-provider had failed. As he looked apathetically about him, his eyes chanced on the dog, sitting across the ruins of the fire from him, in the snow, making restless, hunching movements, slightly lifting one forefoot and then the other, shifting its weight back and forth on them with wistful eagerness. The sight of the dog put a wild idea into his head. He remembered the tale of the man, caught in a blizzard, who killed a steer and crawled inside the carcass, and so was saved. He would kill the dog and bury his hands in the warm body until the numbness went out of them. Then he could build another fire. He spoke to the dog, calling it to him; but in his voice was a strange note of fear that frightened the animal, who had never known the man to speak in such way before. Something was the matter, and its suspicious nature sensed danger--it knew not what danger, but somewhere, somehow, in its brain arose an apprehension of the man. It flattened its ears down at the sound of the man's voice, and its restless,

hunching movements and the liftings and shiftings of its forefeet became more pronounced; but it would not come to the man. He got on his hands and knees and crawled toward the dog. This unusual posture again excited suspicion, and the animal sidled mincingly away. The man sat up in the snow for a moment and struggled for calmness. Then he pulled on his mittens, by means of his teeth, and got upon his feet. He glanced down at first in order to assure himself that he was really standing up, for the absence of sensation in his feet left him unrelated to the earth. His erect position in itself started to drive the webs of suspicion from the dog's mind; and when he spoke peremptorily, with the sound of whiplashes in his voice, the dog rendered its customary allegiance and came to him. As it came within reaching distance, the man lost his control. His arms flashed out to the dog, and he experienced genuine surprise when he discovered that his hands could not clutch, that there was neither bend nor feeling in the fingers. He had forgotten for the moment that they were frozen and that they were freezing more and more. All this happened quickly, and before the animal could get away, he encircled its body with his arms. He sat down in the snow, and in this fashion held the dog, while it snarled and whined and struggled. But it was all he could do, hold its body encircled in his arms and sit there. He realized that he could not kill the dog. There was no way to do it. With his helpless hands he could neither draw nor hold his sheath knife nor throttle the animal. He released it, and it plunged wildly away, with tail between its legs, and still snarling. It halted forty feet away and surveyed him curiously, with ears sharply pricked forward. The man looked down at his hands in order to locate them, and found them hanging on the ends of his arms. It struck him as curious that one should have to use his eyes in order to find out where his hands were. He began threshing his arms back and forth, beating the mittened hands against

To Build a Fire Continued

his sides. He did this for five minutes, violently, and his heart pumped enough blood up to the surface to put a stop to his shivering. But no sensation was aroused in the hands. He had an impression that they hung like weights on the ends of his arms, but when he tried to run the impression down, he could not find it. A certain fear of death, dull and oppressive, came to him. This fear quickly became poignant as he realized that it was no longer a mere matter of freezing his fingers and toes, or of losing his hands and feet, but that it was a matter of life and death with the chances against him. This threw him into a panic, and he turned and ran up the creek-bed along the old, dim trail. The dog joined in behind and kept up with him. He ran blindly, without intention, in fear such as he had never known in his life. Slowly, as he plowed and floundered through the snow, he began to see things again, the banks of the creek, the old timber-jams, the leafless aspens, and the sky. The running made him feel better. He did not shiver. Maybe, if he ran on, his feet would thaw out; and, anyway, if he ran far enough, he would reach camp and the boys. Without doubt he would lose some fingers and toes and some of his face; but the boys would take care of him, and save the rest of him when he got there. And at the same time there was another thought in his mind that said he would never get to the camp and the boys; that it was too many miles away, that the freezing had too great a start on him, and that he would soon be stiff and dead. This thought he kept in the background and refused to consider. Sometimes it pushed itself forward and demanded to be heard, but he thrust it back and strove to think of other things. It struck him as curious that he could run at all on feet so frozen that he could not feel them when they struck the earth and took the weigh. of his body. He seemed to himself to skim along above the surface, and to have no connection with the earth. Somewhere he had once seen a winged Mercury,

and he wondered if Mercury felt as he felt when skimming over the earth. His theory of running until he reached camp and the boys had one flaw in it: he lacked the endurance. Several times he stumbled, and finally he tottered, crumpled up, and fell. When he tried to rise, he failed. He must sit and rest, he decided, and next time he would merely walk and keep on going. As he sat and regained his breath, he noted that he was feeling quite warm and comfortable He was not shivering, and it even seemed that a warm glow had come to his chest and trunk. And yet, when he touched his nose or cheeks, there was no sensation. Running would not thaw them out. Nor would it thaw out his hands and feet. Then the thought came to him that the frozen portions of his body must be extending. He tried to keep this thought down, to forget it, to think of something else; he was aware of the panicky feeling that it caused, and he was afraid of the panic. But the thought asserted itself, and persisted, until it produced a vision of his body totally frozen. This was too much, and he made another wild run along the trail. Once he slowed down to a walk, but the thought of the freezing extending itself made him run again. And all the time the dog ran with him, at his heels. When he fell down a second time, it curled its tad! over its forefeet and sat in front of him, facing him, curiously eager and intent The warmth and security of the animal angered him, and he cursed it till it flattened down its ears appealingly. This time the shivering came more quickly upon the man. He was losing in his battle with the frost. It was creeping into his body from all sides. The thought of it drove him on, but he ran no more than a hundred feet, when he staggered and pitched headlong. It was his last panic. When he had recovered his breath and control, he sat up and entertained in his mind the conception of meeting death with dignity. However, the conception did not come to him in such terms. His idea of it was that he had been making a fool of

To Build a Fire Continued

himself, running around like a chicken with its head cut off--such was the simile that occurred to him. Well, he was bound to freeze anyway, and he might as well take it decently. With this new-found peace of mind came the first glimmerings of drowsiness. A good idea, he thought, to sleep off to death. It was like salting an anesthetic. Freezing was not so bad as people thought. There were lots worse ways to die. He pictured the boys finding his body next day. Suddenly he found himself with them, coming along the trail and looking for himself. And, still with them, he came around a turn in the trail and found himself lying in the snow. He did not belong with himself any more, for even then he was out of himself, standing with the boys and looking at himself in the snow. It certainly was cold, was his thought. When he got back to the States he could tell the folks what real cold was He drifted on from this to a vision of the old-timer on Sulphur Creek He could see him quite clearly, warm and comfortable, and smoking a pipe.

"You were right, old boss; you were right," the man mumbled to the old-timer of Sulphur Creek. Then the man drowsed off into what seemed to him the most comfortable and satisfying sleep he had ever known. The dog sat facing him and waiting. The brief day drew to a close in a long, slow twilight. There were no signs of a fire to be made, and, besides, never in the dog's experience had it known a man to sit like that in the snow and make no fire. As the twilight drew on, its eager yearning for the fire mastered it, and with a great lifting and shifting of forefeet, it whined softly, then flattened its ears down in anticipation of being chidden by the man. But the man remained silent. Later, the dog whined loudly. And still later it crept close to the man and caught the scent of death. This made the animal bristle and back away. A little longer it delayed, howling under the stars that leaped and danced and shone brightly in the cold sky. Then it turned and trotted up the trail in the direction of the camp it knew, where were the other food-providers and fire-providers.

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FitnessDigest.US volume 4 issue 3 summer 2012

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