Why We Run

I was flat out unmotivated today, that’s a fact, it was my first day back at work after vacation and I was not enthused…I had picked up 2 more reports in my absence and I could forecast the specter of a landslide of work coming my way as a result of the “do more with less” philosophy permeating my organization.

I wrestled with these thoughts all day.

In the mist of these thoughts a close friend stopped in to tell me that he was done, done with the job, the schedule, politics…He was done, and he was washing his hands and moving on.

He apologized for leaving…

No apology necessary.

My wife graciously packed my gear this morning to help steer me in the right direction, yesterday we ran, played, and stomped our way through a 5 mile trail run.

But that was yesterday, and today is today.

Unmotivated to the last…

My indecision followed me out to the parking deck at the end of the day, and then a strange thing occurred. The slightest ray of sunshine found its way through the depressed concrete to kiss me on the cheek as I loaded up to leave.

A subtle hint I surmised as I returned to the bathroom and fumbled through changing out of my suit, I pointed my car north, & six songs later, I was moving down the trail with stinging sweat in my face, my legs burning to adjust to the hills and grades that have been so neglected out of the necessity of recovery.

Work be dammed, and indecision put aside, I run because I can, because it makes me feel alive.

The Outer Banks Experience

This past week found us on vacation with my family in Waves/ Rodanthe North Carolina.

Each year my parents try to juggle everyone’s schedules in an effort to get some quality family time; they have devised plans from family cruises to beach house rentals over the years, and as everything came into alignment for 2011 we were all able to pack it up and head down to the beach.

It’s unusual for Ash and I to stay in the luxury of a beach house, and we jumped at the chance to experience the beach from a different perspective.

That being said we are not tent camping purist that would just as soon choke on granola then stay under the confines of 4 walls while at the beach, and as a bonus, it’s really cool to spend time with the family.

There are however some obvious differences between camping on an uninhabited island and spending a week at a vacation house.

Bikini, beer, and boogie board, the wife in her natural vacation habitat

After years of intensive prodding and occasional ridicule we were able to convince my parents and brother that vacationing in Nags Head proper was akin to spending a week at a NASACAR race with the exception of the whole ocean thing, and that piece of mind and total relaxation could be found just a stone’s throw further south.

I will concede that it’s not easy to plan a family vacation around my hermit sensibility and my fanatical devotion to my dogs and that they accompany us everywhere, and my mother did a masterful job taking everyone’s “wants” into account when she picked the rental.

One of the first things Ash and I had to work our way around was the sheer number of people on the beach on a sunny day, but add some clouds, a few thunder claps, and intermittent rain and the number of beachgoers became dramatically reduced.


Parents braving an afternoon storm as others flee for cover


Our best option for crowd management was a short drive to beach access ramp #34 on the Cape Hatteras National Seashore where we simply drove away from people to get a little more room to stretch our legs for fishing and surfing.

I have been going to the Outer Banks since 1990’ish to do what I consider to be some of the gnarliest spasmodic renditions of surfing in modern human history, but I do have fun, and this trip Ash decided that she wanted to get in on the action, so we added yet another stick to my quiver of boards from the Rodanthe Surf Shop. (Nice folks)

The "bent monkey" surfing stance 


If you’re paying attention a family vacation can provide one of those moments where you think to yourself, ‘This is it, this is what matters”…

My epiphany occurred at 5:38am with the sun breaking over the horizon as my father and I cast our lines into the Atlantic Ocean.

My wife was there to capture the moment in time, proof positive that an image can be priceless.


Pops trying his hand at retirement 


Most evenings you could find me manning the charcoal grill as the family got together to enjoy fresh clams, shrimp, scallops, and Red Snapper from Austin’s South Island Seafood & Produce Company. (The Snapper was truly phenomenal).



Although it was a family vacation Ash and I still found time to steal away for a moonlit bike ride or a dinner for two.

Our “Date night” would be at Good Winds Seafood & Wine Bar where we sampled braised alligator, Sashimi Tuna, duck spring rolls, and Mahi Tacos. (Good food, good craft beer selection, although I can only surmise that I must have reminded our young female bartender of her father whom she still holds some degree of resentment towards).

Sunset over the sound at Good Winds

Family vacations with the swirling noise of kids bounding from the pool to the hot tub and back, the sounds of constant conversation interrupted by brief moments of reflection, water balloon fights, early morning runs, and trying to chase down the sunset on the single speed in the diminished evening light, it’s good for the soul…

Return of the trail run

On a whim we decided to strike out on a trail run late in the week, the idea actually devolved from plans of an overnight backpacking trip that became less practical as the impending weekend came into focus.

Here’s how this sort of thing plays out in our household…

It’s Friday evening and I have just jumped off of the lawn mower after getting a head start on the weekend chores and the sound of a beer cap hitting the deck is interupted by a verbalized stream of consciousness.

“Let’s go for a trail run tomorrow!!!”

Unaffected by my outburst, Ash thumbs through her cook book & without batting an eye responds with, “OK”.

She’s used to my last minute ideas and knows all too well the ridiculous things I ponder while in the “Zen” of grass cutting.

But where to run???

Ash was inclined to run the river, so James River Park was the destination of choice …

Another curious thing seems to happen when plans are made on Fridays.

Another bottle cap hit the deck as I made my standard proclamation that I wanted to be out running early…

Plans be dammed, and Friday nights forever to be the reason why, we crossed the emergency access bridge and headed down the trail at around 10:00am, certainly not the early birds who’s mission it was to get the worm…

Needless to say, by 11:00am it was getting hot, not unbearable, but a definite nod to the Virginia summer lying in wait.

As we bounded down the path we passed scores of folks out enjoying the well groomed trails of Buttermilk & North Bank under a blazing sky.

We would log 7 miles or so on the flowing single track with the hum of the Hangar 1 Vodka Blimp keeping time.

As a side note; it was the first real distance I had put on my ankle since the scope, it felt weird, a little sore, but no worse for the wear.

The "mysterious" Hangar 1 Vodka blimp hovering above 

"Live Free or Die"

With “Pirates” I have intentionally avoided crossovers between professional exploits and personal adventures, but sometimes an experience is significant enough that it affects both aspects of one’s life.

I returned Friday from a road trip that would have me steal away at 3:00am Tuesday morning and travel 11 hours across 9 States to a small New England town in New Hampshire.

Just so everyone understands where I’m coming from, I’m a southern boy, born & bred, and up until this week Atlantic City New Jersey was as far up the coast as I had ever ventured, and I readily acknowledge no previous desire of traveling further north.

While categorizing the nature of the trip is somewhat difficult, I would describe the experience as a cross between a “business trip” and ”training opportunity” with a healthy dose of “customer appreciation” as our sales rep Ken and Senior Instructor Scott catered to our every need and went well beyond the call of duty.

Exeter New Hampshire is home to “Sig Sauer” who manufactures firearms for customers ranging from private citizens to Law Enforcement and elite military units.

The Company has grown exponentially in the last few years from 90 or so employees to over 400.

During our brief visit to Exeter and the Sig Sauer facility we would have the opportunity of touring the factory, meeting with the Vice President of the company, shooting prototype firearms that “don’t exist” and cannot be named here, and participating in some training at the Sig Sauer Academy.

In short, the company rolled out the red carpet for our merry band of travelers.

That being said, this post is not a sales’ pitch for Sig Sauer, but more of an “ode” to the hardnosed employees who work for the company and represent the greater population of New Hampshire whose state motto is “Live Free or Die”.

As we meandered through the quaint downtown area of Exeter weary from our 11 hour haul I couldn’t help but identify with the small town vibe that reminded me of the country towns my wife and I so love throughout Virginia.

Downtown Exeter

Pickup trucks with lift kits and large wheels rolled by interspersed with Subaru Outback’s, and a healthy contingent of helmetless Harley riders whose exhaust pipes rumbled the glass windows as they passed.

A significant number of cyclists spun through town as well, as did several folks out for an afternoon’s run.

From an outsiders perspective Exeter appears to be an outdoor oriented, physically active town.

A short drive from downtown sits the Sig Sauer HQ and manufacturing plant where Sig Sauer firearms are engineered, honed, and fabricated, with almost all of the pieces and parts being created right there at the plant. That’s right, “Made in the USA”.

Sig Academy Pro Shop

Custom Sig Academy P-226

Previously I had mentioned what activities we were privy to during our trip but what struck me the most out of all of our opportunities was the tour of the Sig Sauer facility.

If ever there was an example of a physical structure taking on the presence of the people who worked inside the confines of its walls, it would be Sig Sauer.

I have never experienced the sense of pride that I encountered as I walked through that facility. It was as if the halls of the building resonated with the confidence and commitment of the people within.

That’s not an exaggeration.

In a time where outsourcing is the norm, and quality has taken a back seat to quantity, the employees at Sig are the personification of American pride that has been lost in so many aspects of our daily lives.

This pride was identified by a no-bullshit stance that could almost be labeled as arrogant were it not for the fact that you could see the honesty and integrity in every worker’s eyes.

This “portrait of America” sported monster goatees and endless tattoos under the backdrop of heavy metal music as it thumped through the bays throughout the factory.

Fabrication….heavy metal

Firearms range….heavy metal

Quality control….heavy metal

Firearms and rock & roll…Damn right

Front to Back; Tactical II .308 with can/ SSG conversion .22/ SSG 3000 .308 with can 

Messing about with the Sig  516 5.56mm

The people of Sig Sauer, from the guys on the floor working 7 days a week producing quality American firearms, to the Instructors out on the sun baked ranges of the Academy provided me with a supercharged stoke that I am still trying to wrap my mind around and am having difficulty conveying into words.

But then those words have already been written through time …

“Live Free or Die”

There is no better moniker for the pride I felt in the people of New Hampshire.
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Special thanks to the following;

Ken, Scott, Jesse, Airborne with the 7.62, I don’t recall your name but thanks again…