…And I’m Leaving, On a Jet Plane, Don’t Know When I’ll Be Back Again

Let me preface this blog by saying that things might get a little sentimental (it could be because I am listening to Brian Adams, sitting on a flight back to Hawaii, and sure enough, Glee is playing on TV. Too much info? Perhaps), please proceed with caution. 

I flew home for a night in the middle of November.  My flight schedule consisted of this: Red eye to Minneapolis Wednesday night, arrived in Minny at Noon, flew down to Chicago around 3pm, training in Chicago Friday morning/afternoon, returned to Minny early evening, taxi to dinner on Friday night (night of the first big snowstorm), spent the evening at my sister’s place in New Brighton, and then flew back to Hawaii on Saturday morning.  What the heck was I thinking?!

During all that travel, training, and experiences, there is one 4 hour span that I want to talk about.  Knowing that I have yet to have the opportunity to connect with as many people as I would like to upon my return, we tried setting up a dinner for a small group of us Friday night.  Arriving back in Minneapolis Friday night, I took a cab directly to a family owned Italian restaurant in St. Paul.  Showing up an hour early, my eyes directed me to the bar where a cozy stool awaited.  The restaurant name evades me as I write this, but it was nice, quaint, and ‘family owned’ is the best way to describe it.  Prices were more than fair, the owners are pleasant, friendly, and proud of their restaurant.  After all, it IS the oldest Italian family owned restaurant in the nation (didn’t realize this was a measurement). 

Slowly, the group began to venture in.  First, Tyler Kramer, part of Hayfield’s finest family.  Shortly, after him, the largest group, Aaron (my brother in law), Kari (my sister), Erin and Jared (two of my best friends), and Patrick Riordan (diddo).  Yarusso Brothers!! Just thought of it, what a breakthrough.  I was fortunate enough to strike a wonderful relationship with the Yarusso owners and they were more than complimentary to me and the entire group. 

After sitting down, our oddly mixed group brought together to have a good time simply lost ourselves in conversation, embarrassing stories, current happenings, silly things, and of course my sister’s big announcement.  Kari, you out there?  Do you care if it is on the blog now? (I guess time will tell).  Just as we were to yell out the ‘congratulations,’ none other than Jon Lien and the beautiful Heidi showed up.  Ah, two more fantastic people.  This was it, they rounded out the group pleasantly: 9 brilliant individuals, good times. 

The rest of the night consisted of drinks, going to a ‘police bar’ in St. Paul, and continuing to catch up with one another.  Enjoying the connection, regaining laughs with the group, jibes and jokes, it was more than I could have asked for.  It wasn’t until boarding the plane, alone in the airplane, that I realized how fortunate one can be to associate with these quality of people (with the exception of my brother in law, ha!)…kidding Aaron.  We live in an age where connection is at our doorstep, the click of a finger, or even the switch of an online camera (almost creepy at times), yet there is still one problem with travelling; you can’t put a price to physical distance.  We take this for granted every day, being physically close to the ones we love and those we cherish.  I don’t have any wise words, but this is my blog and heck, I am reflecting J.  The second reason that this blog took on a reflective nature is because my parents just visited me for 5.5 days in Honolulu. 

I, and hopefully they agree, enjoyed a near perfect vacation.  Site-seeing, time on the beach, introductions and new relationships, peace, quite, and space, what more could you ask for?  Exhausted from the previous week, I again took for granted the distance my parents took to come to visit and the shortness of time.   Sure enough, Sunday evening arrived and we were saying goodbye at the airport, arms in arms, reluctant to let go.  Let’s rewind, what had we done:

1. Pearl Harbor

2. Turkey Trot

3. Thanksgiving in Ko’Olina / Lagoons

4. Pali Lookout / Manoa Falls / Watched Matt Zellmer and Luther play basketball (matt is an awesome blossom, great kid, and it was nice to have another ‘blooming onion’ in Hawaii)

5. Island Tour: Tantalus Road, H3 (beautiful drive), King Kamahamaha Highway (sp), North Shore, Haliewa, Shrimp Shacks, Hard Rock Waikiki

6.Brunch at Dukes, beach time, Airport.  Early Sunday morning as I lay on the couch, staring at my computer, my mom walked over and said, “Kraig, I got teary eyed thinking about leaving.”  Well, Mom, diddo as I write this blog. 

Prior to the airport, we stopped by Barnes and Nobles to grab a couple of books, ate at Bubba Gump Shrimp, and then made our way to the airport.  My parents said good bye to Kristina with heartfelt hugs, a gift exchange (they say thanks Kristina, and I believe my mom hugged the card after she read the message), and ‘see yah in Decembers.’  Each mile to the airport felt as though it were an inch.  Have any of you ever felt this? The more you want to hold onto something, the faster time speeds up and before you know it, time passes.  I even tried driving particular slow, but the brief traffic jam that I caused prompted me to speed up.  Einstein talked about the theory of relativity from a certain perspective, and so did LL Cool J in Deep Blue Sea (Terrible movie, and this is my attempt to bring humor to this discussion).  He simply said, “Put your hands on a hot stove and seconds feel like hours; put your hands on a hot girl and hours feel like seconds.”  Different situation, similar concept. 

Losing myself in conversation with friends and family, connecting with them, laughing, loving, those hours passed by as quickly as it takes to ‘see yah later.’  Losing myself in closeness with family, friends in Hawaii, days passed by as quickly as it takes to unravel ones arms from a hug. 

Pulling up to the curb, we all seemed to operate in slow motion, still disinclined to step out of the car.  Some of you may be blaming this slow motion on old age, but my parents are not that old. 

Popping the trunk and stepping out of the car, it was funny to see my dad unfold himself out of the back of the convertible (just rented for the 4 days, relax guys).  Grabbing the luggage, passing it over, we knew the moment had arrived.  First, my dad, expecting the handshake and a partial hug, I hesitated for a second when he leaned forward with both arms for the real thing, a full hug; for as long as I can remember, I do not recall the last full hug between the two of us, but more important, I will always remember this one.  The feeling of security when your dad wraps his arms around you is overwhelming, an escape from any worry that one might have.  It happened here; I was blown away. 

Next, mom.  Mothers' hugs and are sappy, it is expected, but even though it is expected, there is no denying or even describing a mother’s love and the feelings that are shared when you hug your mom.  It isn’t security or protection; oh no, to me it’s vulnerability, genuine emotion found in an action as simple as a hug. 

Time, relativity, family, friends, connections, distance, tears.  Goodbyes are difficult, but just as the sun continues to set and the plane ascends we must look forward to the last lines, the ‘see you laters’, the phone calls, the blogs, the instant messages and texts…For just around the corner, two weeks, two months away is a plane descending, a “Welcome Home,” giving us the opportunity to lose ourselves in conversation, love, and laughs once again.

A Turkey Trot and a Very Hau’oli La Ho’omakika’I (Happy Thanksgiving)

Before I describe my wonderful Thanksgiving experience out here in Hawai’I, I first want to wish each of you reading this a fabulous Black Friday, and I hope that all of you were able to enjoy the time this weekend with family and friends. 

My Thanksgiving consisted of a 10 mile Turkey Trot, Thanksgiving buffet at Ko’Olina with a dozens of friends and family, and, fittingly enough, beach time with cocktails at the beautiful lagoons. 

On Tuesday my parents bravely ventured out to visit me in Hawaii, and the time spent has been nothing short of spectacular.  After a decent night’s sleep Tuesday night, we set about experiencing HI in typical tourist fashion; Number one on our agenda was Pearl Harbor.  I do not need to justify why we went to Pearl Harbor, but there are several aspects of it that I want to touch upon.  First, the rich history and trying to transport oneself back into that time period is impossible.  The only American’s that I believe can relate to this tragedy would be those in the buildings or even standing outside of the World Trade Centers on 9/11.  This is not downplaying the hard fighting soldiers in Afghanistan and the Middle East, but the point is that, in terms of sheer pandemonium and ‘dastardly attacks’, these two are incomparable. 

The other considerations that need to be addressed are: size, power, respect, and resilience.  Standing atop the Battleship Missouri (yep, THE exact spot where the Second World War II ended), you can’t help but wonder what type of power it would take to bring this type of ship down.  The ship spans roughly 3 football fields, and although I like to think that I can throw a football over those mountains in the distance, it would be difficult to even toss a ball the width of the ship.  As we left the Missouri to test the Arizona memorial, a different feeling consumed me.  When I was about to board the little boat shuttle over to the actual memorial, I felt as though I were going to yet another site seeing opportunity.  It wasn’t until the boat guide refocused my thoughts to the memorial itself, the Arizona Memorial is a tomb, a final resting place for over 1,000 individuals who lost their lives on that morning.  That power, that simple message, reshifted my focus, and regained my perspective.  As oil still bubbles out of the ship, we were given a clear day to see the massive ship.  Sure the battleship is small scale relative to today’s aircraft carriers, but in the 1940’s it was a massive expansion of steal and ingenuity.  Over 1,000 individuals-many prayers and thanks to the family of those individuals. 

After the memorial, we drove back to the watermark for a couple of hours of fun in the sun.  The biggest news (other than the spectacular visit to Pearl Harbor) is that I introduced my parents to an amazing person, Miss Kristina.  Talk about nerve wracking!! Sure my parents had heard about this lovely lady in passing, but to put a face and a personality to my feeble descriptions is an entirely different experience.  To say they were blown away is an understatement; the meeting went smoothly and I am grateful for the opportunity to introduce such a special individual to my parents (a bit much? Nah, not quite). 

Kraig, stop stalling, what is the Turkey Trot?  Well gang, my co-worker Maggie (an incredible person who ran 2 marathons within a month!!) put a gun to my head and forced me to sign up for the Turkey Trot a 10.4 mile run in the Diamond Head area on Thanksgiving morning.  What can you do when life and death is on the line?  Before the run, the most I have ever run was 6 miles, so who on earth knew what was going to happen.  Well, a challenge is a challenge.  Let’s do it. 

Without going into detail, the run was exhilarating!  I am addicted.  We finished the run in roughly in an hour and a half and the entire experience was such a thrill.  Hundreds and hundreds of people participated, individuals donated their time to passing out water at certain mile markers, and people cheered along the way.  Where do we go from here?  Sure 10 miles is something, but I decided to take the giant leap and in 2 weeks I will be running a marathon.  Haha.  If you can run 10 miles, you can run 26.2, right?  If you have room for me in your prayers, please wish that I do not break anything during this spontaneous adventure.  Hip, hup, 26.2.  Let’s do it. 

After the run, the group of us, Kristina, myself, my parents, and Maggie, drove out to Ko Olina for a Thanksgiving potluck next to the pool.  For visual reference, the pool area has a small cascading waterfall, weather temperature beamed a sunny 75, and the wind blew in from the East (not sure about this, but it fits in) at a vicious 15-20mph.  From Minnesotans, Target employees, to my coworkers, family, young and old, this was such a nice experience and I am thankful for the Radtkes (Colleen and Jon) for hosting.  These two are remarkable, caring people who seem to focus all of their efforts on others. 

That’s all I have for now, more to come shortly.  But all in all, I must say, Thanksgiving on O’ahu, not a bad idea!

Kokohead, Cataclysmic Calamity, and Check Out Chilly Dog (please!!!)

It’s a beautiful Sunday afternoon here in the heart of Waikiki; The lovely Kristina and I are enjoying endless rays, jamming out to my new found favorite band (skyrocket love, check them out), and wondering What the Heck is going on with the Minnesota Vikings.  Drama Surrounded QB, Unproductive D Line, slobs of Offensive Linemen such as Bryant McKinnie (do we need to revisit what he did on Al and Alma’s boat cruise?), and yet there is hope in the fact that we have two of the more talented position players in the NFL (Harvin and Peterson).  Did the players quit on Chilly? Yes.  Is Favre miserably unproductive? Yes.  Does Loadholt seem like a little kid looking at butterflies instead of blocking? Yes.  Do our Defensive Backs know how to tackle, catch, cover a receiver, or have football instincts? No.  Regardless, the team is a change.  Not everything points to the head coach, But, he should simply do everyone a favor and check out.  The ticker on ESPN will read: Wolf fires Childress; Frazier steps in as Interim Head Coach.  Favre retires Mid Season.  Jackson to lead newly found run and gun offense. 

Cool. Go Colts.

What’s Kokohead Kraig? What are you talking about Cataclysmic Calamity? 

Kokohead is a beast.  To those geography majors, Kokohead is a cinder cone remaining from the last active volcano that occurred on O'ahu approximately 10,000 years ago. This crater is the tallest tuff ring in Hawaii, measuring 1,207 feet in height, and an old artillery station.  To me, it is an enigma, a test from the G-O-D himself, for He must have known that when I embarked upon this hike I was going to be miserably hungover. 

Friday night consisted of a fun night with the team: Japanese Steakhouse, Saki, Korean Karaoke Bar (interesting), Coconut Willy’s and Senor Frogs for dancing.  Head pounding, mouth parched, body aching, my teammate woke me up to say she was going hiking at Kokohead with a friend.  We originally planned to tackle this mountain together and I couldn’t back out.  Step 1, get out of bed, accomplished.  

We departed for the mountain around 10:30am, probably the worst time to ever go on a hike that has no shading and is pretty much a 1200ft VERTICAL climb.  Barf.  Don’t worry, I did, but we will go into those details later. 

Looking like Joe Cool with my Maui Jim’s on (sp) because my eyes were oversensitive, grabbing a bottle of water, I used the 20 minute drive to take a quick nap.  Sudden Stop.  Geez T-Lo, easy with the driving por favor.  With every turn, every break, my stomach clenched and felt as though it were a towel being rung out.  I suppose this isn’t all that inaccurate considering I was dehydrated. 

By the time we arrived at Kokohead my head felt like it were about to explode.  Cranking my neck to look at the top of the mountain, Jeff (T-lo’s friend), simply looked over and said, “I can’t believe the two of you are about to do this in your condition.”

Hip, Hup, Just a mountain. 

Step after step felt as though the trip was an inch closer to death.  Are we there yet?

Oh…My…Word…What the hell is that?

Pointing at this near vertical climb roughly ¾ of the way up the mountain, I had THE moment.  You know what that moment is.  We experience it every day after a great night of partying.  Ah, I’m just gonna lay in bed for another hour.  No need to work out today, I will work out tomorrow.  Mmmm, give me a slice of pepperoni pizza. 

Thinking to myself that I still had over 90% of the mountain to go, this was a perfect opportunity to turnaround.  On my left shoulder perched this evil devil, laughing at me for the night before.  Kraig, turn around, go grab a beer.  (no folks, I am not talking about Jeff Barlow, nor am I hearing voices, or insane…last comment might be questionable).  Trudging forward, step after step, he kept getting louder and louder.  But luckily, nearing about 50% completion, I received encouragement from the sweet angel on my right (no, I am not talking about Kristina, and again, nor am I insane).  Kraig, in forty seven seconds you are going to be given the five minute flu.  Do this: Purge yourself?  The angel left and I, again, was back on my own with the looming decision in the forefront. 

BLAGHTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT

Have any of you ever thrown up on a sixty degree incline mountain with a narrow path and very little room to the side? Well, I did.  It was awkward.  People stared, pointed, laughed, and I wonder if they thought I was out of shape.    For all of those that stopped I just wanted to turn around and yell, “No, I am not out of shape, I just had Saki bombs last night and partied my heart out.” But, the inner peace that followed this wonderful purge held me back and my legs regained their strength. 

With the energy, I climbed my heart out Rocky style singing, “it’s the, eye of the tiger, it’s the grit of the fight…” every 15 steps. 

This is cliché, but as I neared the top, I jogged harder; and upon reaching the top, I walked up to Jeff, gave him a high five, turned around, and raised my arms in triumph.  Beat that Rocky. 

Every sweat drop, Every muscle ache, Every stop along the path to ‘catch my breath’ was worth it! The view on the top of the mountain is astonishing.  Stretching for miles and miles due to the clear sky, I could see EVERYTHING.  Other islands, ocean barges in the distance, Waikiki, Diamond Head, Hanauma Bay, you name it, and I could see it. 

There you have it, with every trial, every tribulation, we must find ways to overcome that.  Mine was an angel perched on my right shoulder.  What is yours?

Black Pearl, Mr. Bhatt, and the Rock

Where has the time gone? 4 weeks Kraig, get with it.  First, to my avid followers, my apologies.  Looking back at this month, I find that my time is not spent on things that matter most to me (Do not jump to conclusions that I have been on a 3 week binger; Instead, simply use the previous line as a disclaimer to this article). 

I took a time management course today, well needed, and the topics and discussion literally forced me to write.  I enjoy writing, feel that I have stuff to write about, and therefore, must write, right?!

(Pause 5 seconds, take a deep breath Kraig)….So…

What in the hell have I been up to?  In all fairness, I have been busy.  My days and nights over the past three weeks have consisted of: work, work, work, golf, golf, sunset (cough, cough, booze cruise), work, work, work, Wedding (congrats Ky and Craig), work, work, work, and dates.  Well, let’s recap in more detail. 

My manager and I had a close work friend visit us towards the end of October.  Although he recently left the company to pursue a better position for a competitor, I think extremely highly of this gentlemen for multiple reasons: Patience, Coaching, and Integrity.  For the stories to come, and the weekend as whole, let’s refer to him as Mr. Bhatt.

After leaving work early on Friday, we ventured Northwest to golf at Makaha Resort Golf Club which I had researched and misread to be the #1 golf course on O’ahu; It wasn’t.  The course does have potential, however, but the lack of residents at the actual resort forced them to cut back: old beer in the coolers, minimal yardage markers, shaggy greens, torn apart golf holes, and a remade par 3.   Instead of continuing to tear apart the golf course with snipes left and right, we shifted focus to ball contact and swings in preparation for Saturday’s round.   The quick round gave us an opportunity to head back to Waikiki, shower, and then brace ourselves for a solid dinner. 

If any of you have the opportunity to go to Roy’s in Waikiki, I strongly recommend it.  A fine Seafood, Sushi, Hawaiian Fusion restaurant, every time we have had a group meal at this restaurant with plentiful cocktails, we continue to overestimate our final bill and leave pleasantly surprised.  Leaving the restaurant through the front doors, walking past the outdoor seating area, my roommate noticed a strange smell, turned around, and asked the question, “Do you smell something?” 

Quickly, as if from the bleachers, someone yelled, “Do you SMEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLL…What the Rock is cooking?!!!”  Startled, we turned around to see Dwayne “the rock” Johnson chilling with his entourage at the outdoor seating.  This story sounds more interesting if we took this route, so continue to go with it for the sake of entertainment (We did see the rock, but did not begin conversations in this fashion). 

Kristina, like any star-stricken female, snapped her neck around to find him instantly; I never asked her, but I do think she had a mild neck sprain from the whiplash. 

“Hey, hey! Are you really The Rock?” she inquired.  The gentlemen did strike a close resemblance to Mr. Johnson, but with the dark lit balcony blocking our certainty, it was a fair question.  The guy, did not respond, however.  Instead, he did a shimmy in the chair, twitched his neck, shifted his face to give her a ¾ view of his face, raised ONE eyebrow, and smiled; All of this happened within one second!

“Oh! It is you! Can we have a picture?!”

“No, we are not taking pictures,” said Entourage Member #1. 

Geez, what a chump, at least let the guy talk for himself.  And, just as quickly as we had the whiff of the Rock, it did, ultimately, remain, just a whiff. 

***

Golf the next day brought us to Ko Olina Golf Club, ample sunshine, and a new outlook on golf.  Now, another recommendation; for those of you that enjoy the game of golf, you have to play Ko Olina.  The course is fair, open, enjoyable, but it is the staff and presentation that makes this course memorable.  Spoiled rotten from the moment we opened our trunk, the staff took our clubs, escorted us where to go, prepared everything for us, and were so energetic that we knew the golf day couldn’t get any better, and it did!  Originally we thought that since we did not have Kama’aina cards (State ID card that allows discounts at a variety of attractions) we were going to be required to pay an unruly amount of $$$, but the guy took my word that I lived here and by golly gee whiz, golf was less than half off…clutch.

With plentiful sunshine, 27 holes, ample drinking, the golf finally came to a close as we needed to prep for the sunset cruise.  Prior to the cruise, Mr. Radtke (great man from Target), graciously invited us over to his place for a drink and to shower.  With 45 minutes left to boarding for the cruise (thought it was 5:30pm), we instantly accepted.  The moment I arrived in the door, however, my phone rang. 

“Hello Mr. Olson, do you want to reschedule?”

“Um, reschedule what?”

“Well, the Ko Olina Katamaran departs at 5:00pm and your party has yet to check in. Would you like to reschedule.”  The irony of the situation is that from the golf club parking lot to where we board for the Katamaran, a person could probably throw a football and hit the boat (note: sarcasm).  We WERE close, however.

“Oh no! I thought it was 5:30pm.  Has the boat departed yet?  We are in Ko Olina and no more than 5 minutes away.” 

Pause…Anticipation maxed

“Why yes Mr. Olson, they are still going through the safety briefing.  If you can get there in 5 minutes they will wait for you.” 

…Sprinting to Mr. Radtke’s car, running stop signs, we made it just in the nick of time. 

Looking like the typical tourists that were lost and scrambling to get on board, we were greeted with a round of claps, muffled boo’s, and a couple of snipes.  Pretty funny crowd. 

I didn’t eat on the cruise and decided to shift my focus, again, to alcohol (not smart; people probably think I am a booze hound).  The other guys with me had the same mentality.  Well, within 45 minutes of the cruise, we toured to see the Black Pearl (they just finished filming another Pirates of the Caribbean), the sunset happened, and we were deep in conversation with 3 sisters in their upper 40’s chatting about who knows what. 

The rest of the night finished with drinks, dinner at Ko Olina Roys (equally nice) with those 3 sisters, funny games at the dinner table, stopping by Liane’s for the Pumpkin Carving (good work guys!), and passing out in the back of the car on the way back to Waikiki.  Look at the photo slideshow for more detail. 

What can I say, it was an action packed day of fun in the sun. 

Thanks Mr. Bhatt and the gang for a fun weekend!

Ka Lae (Southernmost tip of the United States), Kailua Kona, and the Kai (ocean)

Kailua Kona is the personification of a beachfront/oceanfront community.  With an aura of pure relaxation, inviting restaurants, cantina-like bars, and the rising and falling tide playing a rhythmic jubilant tune, it exudes “Copacabana.”  I’m down with Barry Manilow. 

On the preivous blog I gave context to the city at a given place in time, so my point of view is one sided, but let’s spend more time discussing the weekend from a non-ironman standpoint.  The poor planning and organization (to which I was primarily hands off, with the exception of the car) left us houseless and carless two days prior to flight.  A last minute beach condo came through, however, and the location fell slightly below perfection (there, after all, was no AC; Ha!)  On a scale of 1 being a shack in Death Valley and 10 being my place in Waikiki, I gift this place a 9.1.  A few miles from downtown, hopping, Jack Johnson Kailua Kona (the city reminds me of a Jack Johnson song), it WAS the ideal spot. 

By the time the cab dropped us off and we situated ourselves at the condo, it was already 7pm.  A couple of the guys went to grab alcohol while Whitney, Tiffany, and I stayed back to drink the leftover beer in the fridge.  After Tiffany decided to get ready for the night, I ditched Whitney to make a phone call out on the lanai.  Turning around to make a jibe to her regarding whom I was going to call, I laughed and

THWACK!!! 

Usually when someone feels something press against them while they are walking, they stop.  Oh not this guy.  Turning around after making the comment, I walked face first into the screen door, BUT KEPT GOING.  It was as if my body told me it was there, but my mind couldn’t process the fact that something was physically in my way.  The end result wasn’t pretty, and the screen door didn’t stand a chance.  I knocked it off the track, ripped through the bottom half, and as we slow motioned our way to the floor, beer flew everywhere.  Twisted, tangled with this pliable piece of metal, another thud reverberated throughout the condo; looking around, Whitney fell into an epileptic fit of laughter on the floor.

 Friday night included dinner and drinks at Huggo’s, a spectacular oceanfront restaurant with decent specialty cocktails. Saturday brought on the ironman, but post event included a couple of hours of experiencing the nightlife.  A proper journey back home wouldn’t be proper without liquid courage, so we stopped at Lulu’s.  On the way to the top floor, I saw a man forgo drinking the rest of his full cocktail, and naturally felt inclined to comment on the situation. 

“Hey, what the heck are you doing?” I commented, “Nobody ditches out on the rest of the drink.” 

The guy turned to me, laughed, and tried to pawn it off.  Instead, I simply encouraged him to come with the group and finish the rest of cocktail.  His guest, waiting impatiently at the bottom of the stairs, trudged her feet coming back up to the second floor.   Cocktails, shots, beers, and laughs later, I found out this gentlemen previously ran the ironman in under 10hrs, hailed from South Africa, and helped us enjoy the Kailua Kona nightlife.  Besides the fact that he could barely stand (still debating on whether or not it were due to drunkenness or lactic acid), the highlight of the night was a blend between when co-worker Eddie commented on a cute girl sitting at a table with a friend and other guys and the guy trying to do a vertical jump onto the bar.  Regarding the comment and before even completing the statement, South Africa sprinted over to help Eddie find a lady.  Regarding the standing leap, the guy actually pulled it off!

The rough alarm clock (ocean waves crashing) did little to soothe my pounding headache the next morning, but after a cup of coffee and breakfast, Eddie, Tiffany, Kristina and I jumped into the boat, our special edition Lincoln town car, give me a break-it was all they had left, departing south of the city.  Just outside of Captain Cooke bay (where he was stabbed to death), we decided that it would be more memorable to venture to the southernmost tip of the United States and cliff jump.  Geez, Talk about a brash decision. 

Weaving through hairpin turns with little shoulder room at an elevation over 1,500 feet, we completed the expedition to find windmills.  No, I am not kidding, windmills.  From Blooming Prairie I can trek 15 minutes and find ample windmills thanks in part to McNeilus, but never would I imagine that we would risk life and death to come across (expletive) windmills.  Surprised, I was thankful enough to realize that this was not the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.  Past the dozens of worn iron paper wheels emerged an interesting, rugged cliff side….and now for the jump. 

I don’t know about any of you, but walking along the elevated cliff, looking at the jagged rocks 100 feet below, I couldn’t help but think that a slip here, a stumble there, and I would fall into a Picasso-like mess of bone and skin only to be washed away by the rising tide.  These are natural thoughts, right?  Well, no need to answer my own rhetorical question, but I am terrified of heights.  The only way to conquer this would be to face the fear head on; for those of you cognitive behavioral theorists, this process is called exposure. 

What heightened the danger of the fear facing mission was the method for returning from the 50 foot jump.  To complete the mission, We would have to climb up an Indian Jones-esque rusted over, swaying ladder.  Not giving my fears but two seconds to run wild, I stripped down (talk about exposure)…

To my swimsuit (just wanted to give you a visual).  Giving myself one last pep talk, “Kraig, if that 6 year old boy can do this, so can you.  Oh, and if you don’t, Kristina will think you are a coward,” my legs jellowed out beneath me and I tripped!

Clinging to the top of the cliff with one hand I couldn’t help but think about the impeding pain below.  Not death, but shear misery from the awkward fall to come.  With blood starting to trickle down from my Stallone style cliffhanger grasp, I managed to swing my other arm onto another rock to pull myself up. 

A blink later, and after the Final Destination glimpse, it was time. 

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!

I two stepped (a local Hawaiian wahine called it two stepping) and threw myself off the cliff screaming the majority of the way down to the ocean.  The cold, salty ocean gave me instant feedback about the quality of my jump; forgetting to execute a perfect pencil, my bum’s soreness could still be felt at work two days later. 

What an exhilarating experience?!  To jump, for the most part, without hesitation and be welcomed by the inviting blue water, sends chills through my arms as I type this.  Sure I am still scared as hell of heights; No, I will not go hang gliding; Yes, I do think about Valleyfair rides crashing every time I am on the top of the Wild Thing roller coaster.  But to go through and meet this goal is overwhelmingly satisfying. 

Ha, and now the funny part.  My co-worker Tiffany, a cute, bubbly, and fantastic person was arguably the most hesitant person in the group to jump.  After nani Kristina jumped, she found a fickle form of courage.  Pause for laughter. 

Clearly instructed to jump like a pencil, Tiffany’s execution ranked last of the four, but in terms of splash, blew the competition out of the water.  Flying through the air, her upper body remained calm, but her legs acted as if they were running a sprint.  The constant movement of her leg’s forced some type of imbalance and she slowly started to lean backwards.  It was almost as if seeing a swan swimming gracefully on top of the water knowing that the legs were moving at full steam; in this case, we could see below the water. 

THWAT!

The impact twisted my stomach and I thought she was going to cry.  Instead, up popped this girl all smiles (sore and shocked) but smiling up a storm.  What a catching attitude!

Already a week later, Tiffany recently told me that bruises cover her upper thigh and butt.  Haha.  Funny stuff. 

That’s it folks.  Another long blog.  Enjoy the weekend and the photos below. 

A hui hou kakou (Until we meet again)

I…..Am…..IronMan…. (or Woman, don’t want to be sexist here)

Last weekend ranks as one of the most memorable weekends of my life; for those of you that know me, I am not one to offer up outlandish comments like this one (ha!). Side Note-Man on Fire is one of Denzel Washington’s best movies, and he IS a solid actor.

Why do I make this comment?

Location, motivation, atmosphere, people.

If you are unfamiliar with what an Ironman competition consists of, here you go; it is a swim of 2.4 miles, 112 mile bike, and a marathon (26.2 miles)! Are you kidding me?! How many of you have actually run 10 miles straight? I know I sure haven’t.

The Kona Ironman, also known as the world championships, puts the best of the best to the test (great rhymes DJ Kraig). If by some chance a person wins the lottery, they are thrown in the recreational division, but for everyone else, they must qualify at another Ironman. I know what you are thinking, and no, these people are not unemployed and single. The majority, from what was visible at the aid station, were seemingly normal, family going individuals. But, what eventually sets them apart from everyone else...mental toughness and pain management.

Great tangent and subtext Kraig, where do you fit in?

A co-worker of mine, ET, put volunteering at the World Championships on our radar from the moment we stepped foot on O’ahu. After a few phone calls, conversations with a volunteer coordinator, and last second logistic planning, four of my co-workers and myself set our course for Hawai’I, the big island. We woke up at a reasonable hour to get ready for the big day, eat breakfast, and take off for the aid station; I personally woke up at 6am due to the sound of crashing waves just outside our ocean front rental property. Hey, don’t judge, sleep is sleep. By the time we arrived at the aid station for mile marker #1 (of the marathon) it was 11am, and after debriefs and set up, we were all set to greet the runners.

To put even more context to this event, the professionals are given a 30 minute start, putting them in the water around 6:30am, followed by the professional women, and then the age qualifiers. With our positioning and timing, the pros were to be showing up any second.

In order to maximize my talents, I thought the lead director was going to place me at the high priority location, something like sponges, ice, water, you name it. But, as a way of staying out of the spotlight, I dodged these spots (way to put the point of volunteering to the test), and headed for the shadows. Yep, spot on…I was the ‘Cola’ man.

Buzzer! Helicopter! Scooter! Police car!

With the leaders closing in on our aid station, the entire group of 25+ volunteers scrambled to their position. After kicking a 3 year old, cursing at his parents for not putting him on a leash, making fun of the porn star volunteer next to me (was that his wife?), I put myself in the Warrior Two position (yoga), closed my eyes, and reached out my cup of cola.

Blink.

The leader was gone.

The guy, on some type of accelerant, went through the aid station quicker than it takes someone to pronounce the state fish of Hawaii…Humumunukunukuapua

Dejected that Coke was not the first choice of the leader, I picked myself up by poking a couple of jibes at my neighbor actor’s fruit display, and waited…and waited…

Buzzer! Helicopter! Scooter! Police car!

5 minutes later, we were at it again, and nothing was going to sop me this time; I was going to do anything to ensure coke was the number one target. Okay, here he comes. Dang, he is cruising.

“COKE!!!!!” I screamed. “COKE!!!!!!” I screamed reaching out my hand with the cup and when he snatched it out of my grasp, my mission was complete; the #2 guy digs coke. But, #3, provided feedback for my buddy ET.

ET, next to me, and in charge of the ice cups, offered it up to numero tres, I think he was European. Anyways, the runner grabbed it, went for a drink, but to no avail, not even get a drop of water. Sure enough, HE SPIKED IT ON THE GROUND! And even worse, he yelled profanities. “Put some Bleepin’ stuff in these cups!” If you ask me, he isn’t going to win a race with THAT attitude.

The next 4 hours were a blur of sponges, ice, garbage duty, coke, smile, Perform! (energy drink), and, of course, a plethora of “Good Jobs, Keep it going!” One particular time while on garbage detail, I mistakenly stopped by the port-a-potty to pick up a sponge….pause for gag…to hear a guy screaming at me. “Hey Mate, hey, hey. Unzip me. Grab the zipper, unzip me.” Taken aback by the boldness of the comment for a split second, I put on my Ironman face and unzipped that gentleman’s…………………………back of his outfit. This volunteer is comfortable with his sexuality.

Aside from the comics above, and to focus on the meaning of ironman, the event’s purpose focuses on individuality with ‘overcoming adversity’ as a close second. From seasoned veterans in their 70’s to a freshmen in college, wives, husbands, veterans, disabled, both the cumulative and individual respect that I have for these people is unfathomable.
After taking a break from volunteering, running to the airport to pick up friend of mine, and cleaning up, we walked back down to the heart of Kailua Kona to see some of the racers and be close to the finish line. Getting closer to the restaurant we picked out, a noticeable individual came into view. Legs amputated from knees down and missing his left arm, one could imagine why this man would stand out. To be perfectly honest, I did not notice him for his unfortunate physical barriers; this guy wore an ear to ear smile that I will never forget.

On that note, on overcoming barriers, and that image, I am bringing this blog post to a close.

Pictures are becoming a recurring theme so below is another photo slideshow of the Ironman portion of our trip to the big island.

I feel like I should say something inspirational right now, but those words tend to escape me; instead, as I find myself unable to sleep at midnight thirty in Chicago, a man to whom I respect dearly always told us every Saturday following a game, “Gentlemen, tell your parents you love them,” so with that in mind, “Parents, I love you.”

Friends…Diddo!

Howlies, Wahines, and Napo'o 'ana o ka las

In Blooming Prairie I was not a minority.  With a dense Caucasian percentage (roughly 95%) relative to total population, I simply did not run into any type of ethnic discrimination on a recurring basis, nor did I ever participate in any discrimination, as a recipient or as a perpetrator. 

In Hawaii, I am a Haole (pronounced how-lee).  To most of the non-Asian tourists that visit the Islands of Hawaii it means foreigner or not a local. After you live on the islands for a while it typically becomes a racial, derogatory word for whites.  Recently, I did some research and found that there are several instances to the origin, such as:

1. Foreigner

2. Breathless

3. Evil White Man; Aka Captain Cook; this can also be misconstrued because when Cook first arrived, he was also thought of as a spirit; Hence, some misinterpretation of the ‘no breath’ comments

Here are a couple of my ‘Haole’ stories. 

Two Monday’s ago (geez it’s been a while since I have written), my coworkers were kind enough to drop me off at the local food pantry a block away from our condo.  Unable to make a decision on what I wanted to eat, I decided to venture around, laptop case in one hand, blackberry in the other.  For a further visual, my Hawaiian business attire included: navy blue dress pants, tan/brownish slip on dress shoes, and a tucked in, light blue, Hawaiian aloha dress shirt.  Yes folks, my hair WAS gelled (love painting pictures).  Finally stopping at a crosswalk (this haole doesn’t J walk), I pulled out my blackberry to check a message.  Sure enough, up walks a middle aged, shirtless, Hawaiian gentlemen wearing a backpack (packed with who knows what), shorts, and running shoes.  Close enough to tell he must have been working out without deodorant on, or drinking, the gentlemen stared at me.  Trying to avoid confrontation, I kept looking at my blackberry.  Sure enough, the gentlemen continued to stare at me, but this time I acknowledged him.  Instantaneously, the local looked down at my blackberry, again, stared at me, hocked a big loogie, launched it inches from my shoes (it was dark brown BTW), and walked away. 

By the time my jaw finished bungee jumping, the same guy walked over to the Haole next to me, who was coincidentally looking at his blackberry and performed the same ritual.  Like most sequels, it was less impressive, BUT I almost gave the guy $5 for the gutsy performance.  Oh yeah, did I mention that he was roughly 5’6”, 145? 

Oh, don’t worry, the story doesn’t end there. 

Finally, the walking sign gave us the go ahead, and, upon establishing our new Haole support group, the gentlemen to my left (we are going to call him Bob) and I started walking across the street.  Feeling left out, our local friend (let’s call him Bill, short for William), decided to follow us.  Sensing the frustration from being kicked out of the support group that he quickly founded, Bill quickened his pace.  Meanwhile, walking directly towards us as we crossed the path was another haole business man, and, much to your surprise, Bill noticed him.  Shifting his red-eyed target from Bob and myself to the new guy, Bill halted him dead in his tracks, undressed the gentlemen with his eyes, and hocked his third loogie in as many minutes.  Where on earth does this guy find all that spit?

There is yet another story, but I promise to keep this one short.  Later in the week, October 1^st to be exact, the gang and I travelled to downtown Chinatown for First Friday.  Missing a majority of the actual First Friday events, we simply made reservations at a restaurant called the Indigo Room.  Prior to our reservation, we grabbed cocktails split up into smaller groups of conversation, and were simply killing time prior to the dinner.  My co-worker, a nice, attractive young lady often confused as a local stood talking to me and another Caucasian co-worker.  Instantly, muscle bound clowns started tossing jibes at Tim (co-worker) and me.

‘Haole! Haole! Haole!’ They continued to chant.  Tim had no idea what that meant, but it was obviously targeted towards us.

The chanting soon subsided, but unfortunately, not their silliness.  The circus was in town for the entire night.  Next, mid conversation, tweedle dum from the pocket full of local homies, bent down behind my co-worker and faked sniffing his butt.  Are you kidding me? He physically sniffed his a$$.  No matter what severity of discrimination, views of another individual, or whether it is warranted or not, this is completely uncalled for.  Heck, regardless, a person’s butt is going to smell; I am pretty sure a Haole’s won’t be any different. 

Despite the minor discrimination hiccups, this remarkable state continues to surprise me.  Perhaps one of the best surprises has been the quality time spent with a particularly beautiful Wahine (woman). 

I am going to keep the suspense running with this one, so if you have any questions, please post a comment and a detailed message as to why you want to know these details. 

Finally, a challenge to all of you…The last phrase I have in the title above means (beautiful sunsets).  Below is a new slide show full of sunsets taken from various spots on the islands of O’ahu or Hawai’i.  The person who views the slideshow and submits the best (according to me) caption to one of the photos, will receive a bag of delicious, ground Kona Coffee.  If you don’t like coffee, get with the program, or perhaps, I will ship you a bag of Macadamia nuts.  We will see. 

Peace Homes.  Miss you all. 

Oh, by the way, future blogs to come include:

1. Kona Ironman

                a. inspirational gentlemen (with a smile)

                b. John, South Africa

                c. Team Bonding and Lincoln Town Car Special Edition

2. Southern Point Heroics

                a. Old Lady Pie Shop

                b. Cliff Jumping

3. Lagoon/Haleiwa (hol-e-ay-va)