running to the light

This past Sunday, we completed the 2011 Light at the End of the Tunnel Marathon.  The event is put on by my friend Brian Pendleton and his family, and a host of great volunteers.  The race starts in Hyak, just east of Snoqualmie Pass in the Cascades, and ends in the town of North Bend.  The course is mostly downhill – with a total descent of about 2000 feet.  It’s a steady railroad grade, so the descent is a gentle one.  And the course is certified, so runners can qualify for the Boston Marathon.

My training for the event was marginal.  I’d taken a couple of weeks off to have jaw surgery in May, and had been dealing with some fatigue issues since.  No speedwork (other than a single track workout).  My race goal was to simply run it as fast as I could – given that a Boston Qualifying Time (BQ) was not likely.

Kris had a very ambitious training ramp.  She’d ramped from a seven or eight mile base to marathon in less than three months, including her three week taper.  Her motivation was definitely a BQ – with the qualifying times getting tighter next year, she would need to run about six minutes faster (dropping from 4:00:59 to 3:55:00). 

This is what brought us to climb onto a yellow school bus with other runners on the morning on July 25.  It was already sunny and warmer than it had been – with the temperature at the finish projected to be about 75.  We both felt a bit nervous – knowing that the heat would make things more challenging.

At eight o’clock, Brian counted down and sent us off.  We warmed up for the first three quarters of a mile on a slight downhill grade.  And then we entered the namesake tunnel.  The Hyak Tunnel is about 2.25 miles of straight, dark, dampness.  It felt like 50 degrees, around 10-12 degrees cooler than outside.  You can see the light at the end the whole way, which should give you a sense of hope.

Here’s the thing though.  Running in the darkness with 300 friends takes a leap of faith.  Your eyes take a while to adjust, and you’re conscious of not wanting to run into others.  I wore a headlamp, but it didn’t help much.  We tended to run in groups, sharing whatever available light there was.  Great metaphor there – sometimes you have to take that leap of faith, and trust yourself to do what you know you can do.  Focus ahead, and keep moving.  Remembering this would have helped me later in the race.

I came out of the tunnel into the first aid station, and crossed the 3 mile mark, at about an 8:20 pace – which was pretty good.  Shortly after I exited the tunnel, my friend Tony passed me.  And not by a little – he was flying!  If he kept that up, it was going to be a really great day for him.

I felt pretty good, better than I had on some recent training runs.  I kept a brisk pace, going just under eight minutes for mile 6, and felt pretty good doing it.  I paid attention to my cadence and form, focusing on keeping to 82-85 strides per minute, with a forward lean and engaged core (Chi Running basics).  I tried to remember to relax my legs, to simply let them fall, rather than push too hard.  And it worked.  I was averaging 8:15 miles for the first ten miles.

When you run faster than planned, it’s important to pay attention to how you feel.  Listen to your body and all that.  Shortly before the midpoint of the race, I began feeling fatigue in my quads.  It had warmed up a bit too.  Still, my splits looked good.

Around mile 15, my pace slowed about 14 seconds per mile.  And then crept up towards 8:45.  I alternated between taking it easy, and pushing myself to keep to a sub 8:30, because that made a PR possible.  The BQ was out of reach, but the prospect of doing a new personal record was not.  If I was able to keep under 8:20, it could be done.  So miles 20 and 21 were good ones, timewise.  By then I was really hurting though. 

At mile 22 we passed the old finish line, and the grade decreased, so that the course felt mostly level.  Problem was I really needed that downhill by then.  Miles 22-24 were tough ones.  And then at mile 25 my wheels fell off.  A sub 3:40 time was probably beyond reach, and so I gave into the fatigue.  And that bothers me.  I ended up walking most of mile 25-26, too tired or mentally beat to dig deeper.  And that bothers me.

I did mile 26 at a 13:07 clip.  Realistically, that’s probably just 3 -4minutes slower than I would have mustered by running.  But I felt like I gave up just 1.2 miles short of the finish.  Bummer. 

In the final analysis the time isn’t the important gauge of an event.  By the clock, this was my third fastest of 32 marathons.  Not bad.  But I didn’t feel good about the effort.  It felt like I let the thing beat me – just when it was time to take some deep breaths, slow down a bit, and trust myself to do what I’d trained for.  Not the race, but for what life gives you sometimes.

Next time, I’ll hopefully be able to do more quality training – long peak runs, and some speedwork.  Some good lessons learned.

Tony had indeed done well.  It was a new PR for him, by about 15 minutes!  I saw Kris come in, just missing her BQ by about two minutes.  A new PR by about five minutes, but still disappointing to miss her goal by so little.  Other ESR friends came in too – Leslie got a PR, as did Mark.  May was interviewed by a journalist from Taiwan, who remembered her being one of the top finishers in a race there last year.  Bill finished at the faster end of his expectation, and Janet looked strong when coming in second in her age group.   Apparently some bear sightings occurred too.  All in all a good day for the ESR crew.

chart and graphs for running geeks

The chart tells the story nicely.  Upward trend in the second half of the race, with the wheels coming off for that final mile.

pictures taken by Matt Hagen, added 30 July

hug your cyclists

A busy weekend. 

Kris completed the Seattle to Portland Bicycle Classic.  This is a 200 mile ride (not a race, not timed) that’s happened for over thirty years (other than in 1980 when it was cancelled due to the ash from Mount St. Helens).

Kris did about 140 miles the first day, leaving just 60 for the second day.  I’d tried to goad her into doing it all in a single day, but she pointed out that we’re both registered to run a marathon in a couple of weeks, so technically she’s in her taper for that.

Kayla was down at a theater camp in Portland this past week, so with Kris riding I needed to get down there on Saturday morning to catch her show and pick her up.  Side note – great camp – the Columbia River Gorge School of Theater does a great job at keeping things fun, safe, and challenging the kids to improve there performance skills.  Definitely recommended for interested kids!

Logistically, this posed a bi of a challenge.  The younger child would spend Friday evening and Saturday with my parents while Kris was riding, and I was between here and Portland.  I got a chance to visit with some family in Portland on Friday evening.  Saturday, it’d be showtime and then back up to Seattle.

Aside from a hellish ride south on Friday, things went well.  Great visit, and the performance was great.  Kayla had a great time at the camp – and was already lobbying for more time there.

We hit the road shortly before noon.  I figured we’d stop[ to get something to eat early afternoon, hopefully getting home around 4 or so.  As luck would have it, we ended up stopping for lunch in Castle Rock, which is where Kris would stop for the night.  She’d texted me about her progress, and I figured we were about 60-90 minutes ahead of her.  It seemed silly not to try to say hello.

So Kayla and I finished lunch and headed over to the high school where Kris would arrive.  When we got there, I looked around for a place to leave her a message if we didn’t catch her.  Kayla hung out outside, waiting for Kris to roll in.  Suddenly, I heard a horrible crashing sound, and then some people saying “cyclist down – call an ambulance!”.

I turned and looked – there was a small crowd of people gathered over by the entrance to the parking lot.  Incoming cyclists need to make a left turn across traffic here.  We’re still not sure what happened, but the driver of a Honda Civic had run into a cyclist on his way into the lot.  The rider had been been knocked about 12 feet or so, but appeared to be conscious.

I checked on Kayla.  She’d apparently seen the accident – not well enough to see precisely who was where, and when.  I asked her if she was okay – and then we walked over.  The cyclist was indeed awake and moving around.  He was banged up, and definitely shaken up – but was responsive to questions like “what year is it”, “what’s your name”, etc.

I’ve tried to find out how the cyclist is doing – but have not yet heard.  I can only hope he’s okay.  I honestly didn’t know whether it would have been better for us to move away from the scene, because of the feelings a cyclist getting hit stirs in both of us. Both Kayla and I are definitely still processing what happened to us.

Today I heard that another friend riding with his son, had a very close call. Around mile 167 or so, he was hit by a pink tricycle that had been unsecured in the back of a pickup truck coming the other way. It hit Greg’s tire, wiping out his front fork, and causing him to fly over his handlebars. Very fortunately, he’s just bruised and scraped. Wow.

Well – after that, there was really no question that we’d stay and see Kris ride in.  And she did, still smiling after riding farther than she had in a single day.  She had a decent ride the next day, and was in Portland in time to catch the first bus back up to Seattle.  We’re very proud of her, and are really happy that she had a safe ride.

If you’ve got a cyclist friend or family – give ‘em a hug.

greeting Kris in Castle Rock after she’d completed her first day’s ride for the Seattle to Portland Bicycle Classic.

three years and thankful

I nearly lost my life three years ago today.  You can read about that adventure here if you’d like.  Not a day goes by that I’m not reminded about what happened.  Not a day goes by that I don’t feel fortunate to be alive, and active.

For the past two July the firsts, I’ve visited the fire station that answered the call for my accident – Station #12 in Redmond.  Getting to thank people for saving your life is quite amazing. 

The first responders have a code they try to adhere to – called 7-7-7.  That means no longer than seven minutes to get to the scene, seven minutes readying a patient for transport, and then seven minutes to the hospital.  For Traumatic Brain Injury patients like me, time is of the essence.  Taking longer can jeopardize the patient’s life, or leave them vulnerable to sustaining brain damage.

Perhaps from their standpoint, the cyclist hit on Old Redmond Road near Grasslawn Park at 8:30 that morning posed no special challenge to them. Perhaps they simply did their job, making sure I was stabilized, and made it safely to the trauma center at Harborview Hospital in Seattle.

But it’s clear that what first responders like those that helped me, are true heroes.  What they do really matters – as it did to my family and I that morning three years ago.

They invited me back into the firehouse, and we talked for a while.  They asked how I felt, whether I remembered anything about the accident, and whether I’d spoken to the driver at all (I haven’t).

We talked about efforts to create stricter negligent driving laws, and I told them about some of the people who shared their stories in Olympia in support of the Vulnerable User Bill (signed into law by Washington Governor Christine Gregoire this past May 16).

And then we were interrupted by a call they needed to answer.  I stood by my bicycle and waved as they left, thinking about how they’d done this for me not too long ago.

In many ways, I’m happy to leave these memories behind me, and simply move on.  But remembering this anniversary by saying “thank you” is a reminder of just how blessed I am.

vulnerable user bill–signed into law

Just got back from a trip down to Olympia today, where Governor Christine Gregoire has signed SB 5326, the Vulnerable User Bill into law.  This is the culmination of three years of advocacy work by the Cascade Bicycle Club and others.  Having attended three Judiciary Committee hearings, and testified at two – I’m pleased to see this come to fruition.  SB 5326 was among the final bills signed from this legislative year. 

pictures snapped from tvw.org’s video feed

Shortly before four this afternoon, I got to shake the governor’s hand, and to tell her that my family and I appreciate this new law.  It will go into effect on July 1, 2012, four years to the day after my accident.

If you are interested, you can view the video of the bill signing here (the Vulnerable User Law signing occurs at time 33:25) :

http://tvw.org/media/mediaplayer.cfm?evid=2011050114&TYPE=V&CFID=5558792&CFTOKEN=26831267&bhcp=1

This experience was valuable for me in a number of ways.  First – it’s an education to see the legislative process in action.  Definitely not always pretty, but definitely good to understand.  Watching the Advocacy folks with Cascade work with the bill sponsors to help navigate the process was interesting.  Speaking with my legislators, as well as others about why it’s good to build awareness and accountability into our driving laws, was incredible.  Obviously, the opportunity to participate in positive change following my own brush with an inattentive driver was powerful too – good things from bad, and all that. 

The person I really have to thank for this is my wife Kris.  During my recovery back in late 2008, she and I were talking about the motorist vs. cyclist dynamic – how each seems to incite the other endlessly concerning road safety.  Kris pointed out that rather than complaining, it’s a far better use of energy to work to change the laws.  Naturally when the opportunity to participate arose a couple of months later, I couldn’t pass it up.

All in all, a good day.

recovery–time on my wheels

A couple of weeks back, I posted about having a LeFort 1 Orthognathic Osetotomy.  Basically, I had my Maxilla (upper jaw) rebroken, in order to better align it with the mandible (lower jaw).  Pretty straightforward procedure, but still not fun.

I’d known this was coming for about two years, ever since my first consultation with an orthodontist to address the alignment issues resulting from the bike accident.  And something about having that much time to think, or about it being a bit more ‘optional’ than my other four surgeries back in 2008 (the initial Decompressive Craniectomy for my TBI, an initial LeFort Osteotomy for my facial fractures, then two cranioplasties to reinsert bone, then bolster the left temporal area of my skull) – this latest one had me a bit nervous.  Part of me wondered why in the hell I’d invite someone to move my facial bones about again.

The surgery was about eight days ago.  It took about 90 minutes and according to the doctor, went quite well.  That first day, I felt far worse than I had after the cranioplasties (I don’t remember much about the others).  I was really out of it from the anesthesia, and there was a lot of blood back in my sinus cavities.  I’d sit up a bit and bleed all over myself (ick).  But the next day, I felt better.  And two days later I went for a nice long walk with my daughter, and felt even better.

Eating stuff that has the consistency of baby food isn’t fun, but not as bad or as hard as I’d worried it would be.

Two days ago, the doctor told me I could basically do anything short of running (too my jostling and impact), or chew food tougher than a ripe banana (need to allow the bone some initial healing time). 

And this afternoon, I got a lesson in what recovery is about.  I’m back to work, and finding ways to stay active again.  I got the okay to ride my road bike.  Standard cautions – don’t overdo it, etc.  Today was beautiful – too nice to pass up a chance at getting a good ride in.  So I rode into work, and took a slightly longer than usual route.  I put in a good day at work, then took advantage of the sunshine, and aimed to take an hour-long ride home.

I’m still not 100%.  Definitely feeling fatigue a bit more than usual.  So I kept my perceived exertion rate modest on the uphill stretches, and just kept things steady on the flats.  Downhill was interesting.  I found myself nervous about picking up too much speed.  I was very conscious of not wanting to lose control, fall, and yes – break my face.  I’d felt some of this before, usually on long downhill stretches, but today’s apprehension was a lot more pronounced than usual.  Really bugged me too.  I’m no daredevil at the best of times, but I basically rode my brakes on most hills.  When I got home, I was really amazed at just how much tension I was carrying from the ride.

And therein lies the lesson.

There are few miracles in recovery.  Lots of good fortune – yes.  But the thing I don’t always remember from my experience of 2008 is that a lot of this is about just staying with it.  Time on your wheels, opening your heart and mind to fresh, positive experience gets rid of doubt and fear.

That’s what I’m telling myself now.  Need to spend more time on my wheels.

running the mud – 26.2 in soaring eagle park

Why do we go the distance?  Is it a cult?  An addiction?  Some kind of penance?  Do we have something to prove?  The answers to these questions are nearly as individual as the runners themselves.

Marshall Ulrich, from his book Running on Empty

Spring had become a very busy time.  At work, we’re trying to wrap up work on a new product release.  At home, the kids were involved with school, and activities.  And Kris was ramping her bike training, in preparation for some summer events.  I’d wanted to find a nice local marathon around the beginning of May.  It would be my last for a while.  On the fourth of May, I’d go in for surgery on my jaw – which would put a halt to running marathons for a while. 

As luck would have it, Eric Bone had another of his Northwest Trail Runs slated for the last day of April.  We’d run in Soaring Eagle Park, in Sammamish – just about 25 minutes from home.  I’d run a couple of shorter events there before, up to ten miles.  The park was nice, the trails somewhat technical and labyrinthine.  And word had it that the trails were pretty muddy too, owing to our wet northwestern spring.

I joined a small crowd of people out to run the marathon, and 50k on the morning of the event.  The runners included several friends from the Eastside Runners – Ather and Theresa were running the 50k (Theresa’s first!).  Greg planned to pace them for 15-20 miles.  It was a beautiful morning, blue sky and sun – atypical for us this spring.

After a quick primer on how to follow the route markings (important, given the twisty trails), we were off.

We started with a 1.2 mile loop, a short turn around one corner of the park.  Judging by the mud, it would be a challenging day – to stay standing up, let alone running 42-50k.  I ran with my friends for that first loop and a little beyond, when it became clear that their pace was a bit too brisk for me, so I dropped back.

After that first 1.2 mile loop, the remainder of the course was two 10 mile loops, followed by a 5.1 miler.  For those of you keeping track, that’s a 26.3 mile marathon – more miles for your money.  The 10 mile loop had an aid station about 4.1 miles in.  And the 5.9 miles that followed felt longer than 5.9 miles usually did.  That final 5.1 mile loop was a trip back out to the aid station, followed by a stretch along a muddy road back to the start.

I felt I’d kept a reasonably good pace for the first 11.2, but the remaining loop and a half took care of that feeling.  I started feeling fatigue earlier than expected, and more or less resigned myself to one of those “run just to finish days”. 

The second loop around felt long, and when I came in to fill my bottle at the 21.2 mile mark, I was pretty wasted.  The final loop was slow.  More and more, I’d settle into a walk while I drank or ate a gel.  That last trip to the aid station took longer than the others.  Ambling through the woods alone was quiet, and nice.  I ‘d spent most of the race lost in my thoughts.  I paid little attention to what my watch said, breaking out of my trance only when it was time to eat or drink something.

That final mile was tough.  It was along a wide muddy road, and possibly half of it was uphill.  I didn’t have much kick left, but suddenly felt concerned that I’d get passed.  Odd thought given that just a mile or so earlier, I’d spent several minutes sitting on a log, attempting to get all of the rock out of shoes completely saturated with mud.  I’d spent the better part of five hours running alone through the woods, rarely glimpsing another human being.  I’d seen lots of birds, and enjoyed watching deer lope along the trail ahead of me.  What was suddenly different?  I guess my brain had decided to reenter civilization, with all of its baggage.

A couple of hundred meters from the finish I ran past my friends Larissa and Don, out to cheer Theresa in.  They’d spent the morning running around Lake Sammamish – a nice 22 miler – and brought great smiles and great energy along.

I crossed the finish in just over 5:08 – my second-slowest marathon time ever.  And surprisingly, I was the first marathoner in.  But runs like this one are not about what the clock says.  Rather – they’re about what our souls tell us after something like this.  And mine gave thanks for being able to enjoy the mud and the miles this beautiful morning.

 

pictures taken by Larissa and Don Uchiyama, and the NW Trail Series folks

Charts and Graphs for Running Geeks

The data shows that this event wasn’t really about the time for me.  Had it been, I’d have wanted either the cumulative average pace to trend down, or (at the very least) the early splits to be fast enough to explain the steep positive splits.  But – it was a beautiful morning.

just a little off the top, please

In a few days, I’ll undergo surgery on my upper jaw to address some residual issues from my bike accident in 2008. 

One of the injuries I suffered was a LeFort Fracture, involving a number of facial bones – namely my orbitals (around the eyes), nose, and maxilla (upper jaw).  While still in Harborview, I had surgery to stabilize these bones, and gained a bit of titanium mesh and some screws along the way.  My mandible (lower jaw) was also broken, but the doctors opted to allow this to resolve itself rather than intervene.

As I healed, my maxilla and mandible were markedly offset from one another.  They’re visibly skewed. resulting in some facial asymmetry, and a serious bite misalignment.  I will undergo a LeFort 1 Orthognathic Osetotomy, addressing the larger alignment issues.  There’s also a small chance that the realignment will help address the tinnitus I’ve experienced since the accident.  Following this surgery, I’m probably looking at another 8 months with the braces.

The procedure is pretty straightforward.  They’ll make an incision above my upper gumline, peel the tissue back, and then cut a small segment of the maxilla out, in order to realign it with the mandible.  If you’re interested, you can check out an account of part of this procedure, written by a former patient observing the surgery.

For the first week after, I’ll be on a completely liquid diet, easing into soft foods for the two weeks after.  My jaw will not be wired shut, but rather rubber-banded together.  This will stabilize the bones, while affording me a bit of flexibility.

I’ll probably be off from work for two weeks, and not allowed to run for two weeks.  Healing time is the standard 4-6 weeks associated with most broken bones.

Although this is one of the simpler procedures I’ve had done, I’m feeling a bit nervous about it.  I think I’m looking forward to just being done with all of this.

26.2 in the watershed

This morning I had a couple of firsts.  I ran my first marathon in the month of March (got the other eleven months covered).  And I ran my first marathon in the Redmond Watershed.

Over the past ten years or so, I’ve run hundreds of miles there.  It’s been a favorite place to do longer runs.  You can do a 5,8, or 12 mile loop and get back to the car to pick up more fuel.  The terrain is varied – some up and down, but the hills never dominate the course.  Great place to prepare for your average marathon.

The day started out with rain – the first significant bit in over a week.  I got to the Watershed early, to make sure I got a parking space.  The lot doesn’t have spaces for 150 runners, and the people putting on the event.  It felt cold too – although the temperature was apparently in the low forties.  I picked up my number, then kept warm in the car until it was time to head out.

Northwest Trail Runs Organizer Eric Bone gave us the pre-race talk, laying out the course (simpler than in the past), and the rules of the road (follow the flags).  At about 9:33, we started.  The pack spread out pretty quickly, as we headed up the Trillium trail.  I fell into a steady pace just over 9 minutes per mile.  Within the first couple of miles, I felt tenderness in my right Achilles tendon, as well as some suspect pain in my right plantar fascia.  This didn’t bode well for the next twenty four or so miles.  I tried to ease up my footstrike and glide, ala Chi Running.

From time to time I felt like I was running a bit faster than I should, like I was working.  The name of the game in the early miles should be to settle into a comfortable pace, and try to go to sleep for the first half.  Not so much today.  Rolling in for the end of the first lap, I was at 59 minutes.

This was both good news and bad news.  Good because I was running well enough to stay within reach of a finish under four hours.  Bad news because I was within reach of a finish under four hours.  I needed to see how the second loop went.  And it was more of the same.  My foot continued to hurt a bit, but I was keeping a steady pace of just over 9 minutes per mile.  This meant I couldn’t ease up and still feel good about my effort.  Why scale back when you’re within a minute of your goal pace?

And so it went.  Lap two was a little slower, but I was halfway in just under two hours.  By the time we were on lap three, I was definitely working harder.  I was feeling the miles, but knew I couldn’t ease up.  The hills were harder, but there are enough slight downhills to make up some time on.  By now I was running alone, and free to live or die on the four hour plan.

Funny thing happened during the third lap.  I simply decided I was going to meet the four hour goal.  No walking, no whining, just keeping as strong and steady a pace as I could.  And it worked.

Starting out on the fourth and final lap, I was pretty wasted.  Climbing the easy hill on the connector trail about twenty miles into the race was much more difficult than it had been the first three times.  I focused on keeping my column straight, and leaning forward to use my momentum to keep going.  I surprised myself at just how much I seemed to be able to muster.  I was tired and hurting, but actually picked up the pace a bit on this final lap.

I caught up with two other runners with four miles to go.  One of them was a very nice, and fairly talkative guy.  I simply did not have the energy to talk, or even to respond with more than a single word here and there.  Eventually we separated (he may have thought me rude).  I kept pace with the other runner for a while, before passing her, and driving up the hills as we closed to just two miles from the finish.

By the time I hit the final quarter mile, I was fighting some cramping in my calves.  After twenty six miles, they decided I hadn’t hydrated enough.  The trouble being that I didn’t have much time to lose without missing my goal.  Somehow I tricked myself to keep moving, and made it into the finish in 3:58:38, as the tenth person to finish.

Although this wasn’t one of my faster marathons, I was very happy with my effort.  I definitely did not leave much out on the course today.

charts and graphs for running geeks

Picture tells the good part of the story.  Overall, pace was pretty consistent, varying 20 seconds per mile between the slowest (third) and fastest (fourth) laps.  I’d posit that this was equivalent in effort to a 3:45 on a flat course.  I’ll take it.

that first mile manifesto

The other day, I was talking to someone who’d just recently started running.  He’s having a blast, feeling great, and now has a goal to complete a half marathon this summer. 

He asked me whether or not it was unusual that the first mile always feels much tougher than the rest.  I don’t think this is unusual at all. 

There are apparently some physiological reasons that first mile may be tougher too.  It takes some time for us to get our muscles working, the blood flowing, and our minds settled into a rhythm. 

There are emotional things that make this first mile harder too.  In his Runner’s World column several years back, Jeff Galloway told us that he sometimes tells himself that he’s just going to go out, do a mile, and see how he feels.  Naturally, by the time he’d completed that first mile, he’s ready for more.  If you’re running with someone else, you’ve settled into a conversation.  If you’re by yourself, you’re usually enjoying the zen time this gives you. 

Approaching this a mile at a time is a great trick. 

For me, sometimes the tougher part is getting out there in the first place.  Life’s pretty busy, with a bunch of stuff competing for time.  There’s a constant balancing act between family, work, commitments at the kid’s schools, and staying healthy.  When running feels like another commitment, it’s easy enough to slide things that feel more pressing in front of your run.  Galloway takes this one on as well – pointing out that you can run in smaller pockets of time if you need to.

Knowing why it’s important to do something helps motivate us to actually do it.  The physical challenge is nice, but that’s not the big motivator for me.  To be honest, if that’s all there was to it, I’d need to find a more fun way to stay in shape.  Rather – it’s how I feel when I’m out there, and when I’m done that keeps me running. 

Making the time to be active is the way I feed my soul. 

the vulnerable user bill advances

Got word yesterday that the Vulnerable User Bill has passed a floor vote in the Washington State Senate (as SB 5326).  Now it’s on to the House, and the companion bill HB 1339.

Having taken several trips to Olympia over the past two in support of these bills, it’s nice to see positive change.  Being a part of this has been a way for my family and I to apply our own experience with a negligent driver two and a half years ago and hopefully prevent what happened to me from happening to someone else.  Channeling positive energy into this has been a great way for us to continue our healing process.

Watching the coverage of the floor vote in TVW’s Weekly Legislative Review allowed me to see some impact that the testimony we delivered to the Senate Judiciary Committee had (the segment on SB 5326 begins at 12:10).

Senator Adam Kline speaks first.  In addition to being the Judiciary Committee Chair, he was the primary sponsor of the bill.  The second speaker was Senator Cheryl Pflug.  During the hearing, she’d asked several questions about whether civil action wasn’t a viable avenue for victims to secure recourse from the offender.  Several of us spoke to this point directly –in my case, the driver was uninsured and unemployed.  Additionally, pursuing civil action means subjecting one’s family to a legal process fraught with emotional consequences.  Senator Pflug incorporated this into her message today as she spoke in support of the bill prior to the floor vote.  I’ve already written thank-you note to her for this. 

If you are interested, you can see the debate and vote here (discussion of SB 5326 begins at 31:00 and is less than seven minutes long).

Watching how the legislative process works has been an education.  It has taken three years to get this far, and given my experience last year – I’m definitely encouraged to see things come together like this.  The biggest lesson for me has been that legislating is a lot more like sausage-making than making software.  The end result might taste okay, but generally you don’t want to visit the kitchen and watch it being made.  On the positive side, it’s been a great way to show the kids how bills become laws :

The Cascade Bicycle Club folks have posted the below diagram on their advocacy blog to help explain where we are now :

The diagram doesn’t show that the Senate bill was referred to the House Judiciary Committee today, and that it is scheduled for a public hearing next Wednesday, March 2.  There are just a couple of weeks left in the session to get this done.  With all of the focus on fiscal issues, there’s the possibility that even with the apparent support behind this bill, it will get left by the wayside.  This effectively this happened last year in the Senate, when the bill died “on the calendar” (did not come to a vote prior to the imposed deadline).

Washington State voters should contact their legislators and convey support for HB 1339 – it definitely can’t hurt.