Once Removed

Robert T. Valliant, my grandfather, at his father's shucking and packing houses in Oxford, Md., where Bates Marina is now. Circa 1905.

My dad turned his knee around backwards. Kneecap got whacked side-on by essentially a 2" x 10" or so and spun it clear off its hinges. He was a boardsman for a Chesapeake Bay log canoe at the time, likely racing with Doug Hanks at the helm. That was the end of his log canoe sailing days.

Our family has become further removed from the water with each generation. My great grandfather, Jeremiah Valliant, was a partner in William Valliant & Brothers packing houses in Bellevue, Maryland, until a business falling out saw him open his own competing shucking and packing houses in Oxford. He had four young'ens, an even two boys (Robert and Jeremiah) and two girls (Louise and Harriet). The two boys would end up running Valliant Brothers Marina, where Bates Marina currently sits at the end of the Strand, same Oxford location as the shucking and packing houses.

Robert was my grandfather. He's the young lad pictured above. He was born in 1899 and lived to be 95. Marina owner and beyond, he was a lifelong fisherman. He kept detailed logs of every time he went out, what they caught, who he went with, what they used. He took my dad fishing, and he lived long enough to take me fishing a number of times from when I was little. I still remember turning around and seeing him peeing in an empty milk carton at the back of the boat. I never asked where the bathroom was after that.

That love of fishing, boating, and being on the water translated directly to my father. But he doesn't own a marina, he's an accountant. His education and occupation don't put him right on the water, though he'd no doubt love to spend more time there.

When I was 15, I came into a 13' Boston Whaler with a 40 horsepower Evinrude outboard motor on it. It was tied up behind our house, in shallow water or mud if the tide was out. $5 worth of gas and you had more than a day's adventure. There wasn't a creek between Oxford and Easton that we didn't explore or a beach we didn't pull up on. Maybe a couple, but not many. I wasn't that concerned with a driver's license when I turned 16, it couldn't hold a Zippo to being on the river.

I feel connected to Oxford, the Tred Avon, the Eastern Shore, the Bay. A bond in the blood and in the bones. But I am further removed. I wonder if I have it like my grandfather did. Or my father does. The water, creeks, rivers, bridges, is where I feel it inherently. But I don't do enough with it. I get it when we're on the water with the girls, or this summer on a stand-up paddleboard. And I look for more.

Unrelated Fragments

Downpours glut. Senses
and themselves. Hum
or drone to roar. Background
to forefront.

Smells

become

intense.

Coffee. Dog. Candles.
Ground. Light inside
stands out. Turns wet. Succumbs,
assimilates into noise.
Gray. Sleep.
Or more awake because

---

A camera is permission to look closer. To see through the surface. A deeper glance.

Patterns. Metaphors. Productions. On the house.
Newly framed, things

become
beyond common.

---

That there were train tracks next to Holiday Inns was a running joke. There always was. It became comforting.

Shaken awake at 2 a.m., the bed rattled out smiles.

Money Back Guarantee

One of a few photos shot for today, 10/27/09, while waiting for a writer/editor at the Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum.

With a name like "Rollo," you likely want to be tough or have something worth saying. I don't know if Rollo May ever got his ass kicked, but he could sure get folks to pondering with the wisdom he could spit.

"Freedom is a man's capacity to take a hand in his own development. It is our capacity to mold ourselves." --Rollo May

I first came across Rollo by way of an artist friend 10-or-so years ago. He liked to quote R.M. by way of a question and proceeded to scrawl it onto an abstract painting he gave me. The quostion (quote/question) goes like this: "What if imagination and art are not frosting at all, but the fountainhead of human experience?"

That question sticks with me. It comes from May's book, "The Courage to Create," which now sits on my bookshelf with a fair amount of underlinings, dog-eared pages, and chicken-scratch in the margins.

I generally relegate my own writing to the margins of the day. I get to it before the day officially starts or at the end of it, when the kids are sleeping. The inherent problem is that there isn't always time in those margins as the page itself seeps off into the sides. The same thing can happen with running, yoga, longboarding, etc., but I have found a way to make time, push the margins, to give those activities permission to happen.

Enter the 30-day challenge. My aim is to write something worthwhile--essay, aphorism, blog post, poem, fragment, etc.--and to take at least one "cool" photograph for each of the next 30 days. Cutting myself some slack, I didn't say the writing or photos have to be good, just that the practice gets instilled and I make a commitment to myself, the time, and the attempt. The writing and the photographs don't have to relate to each other, though they might. I'll be posting photos on Facebook. And I'll see if I can't share some of the writing and/or photos here.

That's my challenge. We'll see where it leads. What challenges or gauntlets have you thrown down for yourselves?

Kinda Like Free Beer

Running is an aesthetic experience. Wait. Ascetic? Well, maybe that too sometimes, but I'm talking ripe with the sublime, not beating yourself with sticks, wearing burlap running shorts.

There are times out on a run, where my body and mind have emptied themselves of everything but the rhythm of breathing and foot strikes, and I'll come across sunlight, mist, and clear sky above, playing games with the surface of a river or pond. Or come face-to-face with a deer who's decided it's a better idea to freeze than to bolt.

Often it is a run-in with nature (or Nature), but it can happen in town or a city as well. Times when the run feels like it happened, in part, to put me in front of something or to give me the opportunity to experience something I would have completely missed if I hadn't gotten out there. What do you do with that?? Personally, I like to say, "thank you," and smile.

Boardom: Get Up, Stand Up

Valliant and Ryan Hickey approach a beach for a quick recharge during the 7.5-mile paddle from Easton Point to Town Creek in Oxford, Md.

Count me in. If it sounds fun and/or epic, I don't want to miss it. One of the reasons I try to stay in reasonable shape running, longboarding, etc. is that I don't want to have to sit out any adventure that stacks up to be cool.

That's what happened when Joel Shilliday proposed a 7.5-mile stand-up paddleboarding (SUP) trek from Easton Point in Easton, Md., to Town Creek in Oxford. I hadn't spent much time on a SUP and can't recall the last time I paddle more than a mile in a kayak, canoe, etc. But I wasn't going to miss connecting two towns in a way almost no one has done.

Joel, Ryan Hickey, Jim Campbell, and I set off at around 6:40am with the sun coming up, boats departing for a local fishing tournament, and flat, following seas. I grew up on the Tred Avon River, making the same Oxford-to-Easton route hundreds of times in a 13' Boston Whaler.

The view from a SUP board on a scenic waterway equals the full body workout you get from paddling while standing up. And the Tred Avon River boasts creeks and cuts next to multi-million dollar estates; by water, you are able to see what's at the end of the long, wooded lanes you pass driving along Oxford Road. All you need is a Robin Leach voice-over.

Jim had to turn back about half-way to make a meeting and Ryan, Joel, and I continued on, arriving at the Oxford public ramp next to Schooners Landing at about 9am, with one brief sandy beach layover, mostly just to enjoy the trip and the morning more. That was my first stand-up paddleboarding trek of any substance. I look forward to many more.

Ted Knab, Zach Skaggs, and me Mikey V. at the western end of the Cross Island Trail, Chesapeake Bay and Bay Bridge in the background.

My primary adventures in "boardom" come on a longboard skateboard. We had a fairly recent group skate on the Cross Island Trail on Kent Island earlier this month, further details of which can be found on the Rise Up Longboarders blog. The next uber-longboarding adventure will come in mid-October as we take the RUL crew to western Maryland for 21 miles of smooth, scenic pavement (42 miles round trip if we do the whole trail) on the Western Maryland Rail Trail.

That trip is another case of something that looks way too fun to pass up. I can't imagine many folks have given the whole trail a go on longboards, as the discipline of long distance skateboarding isn't as widespread around here as it is, say, in the Seattle area. Novelty aside, though, it just looks like a blast--a windy, scenic paved trail, no traffic, as the fall foliage starts to re-color itself.

So the fall adventures are shaping up. We've got some trail running designs, both locally and beyond; some longboarding road trips; and some fall stand-up paddleboarding, not to mention a fall road marathon or half-marathon. The kind of stuff that makes me want to rise up early out of bed and cruise out into the cool, fall weather.

(The Lighter Side of) Running in the Dark

Mike V. and Derek Hills await the down stream float/swim of the rest of the Rise Up Runners crew during a 10-mile trail run at Tuckahoe State Park after serious flooding. Photo by Joel Shilliday.

I run in the dark. Sometimes that is a metaphor. There are plenty of life examples when I feel like I am cruising along with only a narrowly illuminated view of what's going on around me. And I push ahead, running into the sunrise, hoping for a brief glimpse into the bigger scheme of things.

Mostly that doesn't happen. And running in the dark is just running in the dark. But it is enough. Though it's cool when it happens, running does not open up in "a-ha" moments too frequently. Some runs feel good, some hurt. Some runs are with a group and some are solo. The only thing I have any control over is getting up, drinking coffee, and getting out the door for a run. In the dark.

There is something to running out from under the streetlights in town and getting onto Oxford Road, where the light pollution fades and the stars pop. There is something to being out and active before most people are awake. I dig it. But I don't run in the dark for just those reasons.

My wife is a teacher and our two girls are in 2nd grade and Pre-K. They play soccer and take dance some afternoons. When I leave in the morning, they are asleep and they are generally still sleeping when I get home. Our schedules don't allow for the convenience of after work runs. Plus, I don't want to miss time with the girls. So I run in the dark by necessity. It won't happen otherwise.

It's a lot easier when I know I am meeting other folks. I don't want to be the one that leaves folks hanging, especially when some of our runners drive some distance to meet at 5 a.m. It motivates me to know there are other folks rolling out of bed to meet for a run. That's the reason our Rise Up Runners group got together.

Then there is the feeling of knowing the run is in the books. Banked for the day. Granted, coffee, tea, and/or a kick in the pants is sometimes necessary in the late afternoon, but my body (and mind) have adapted and now even look forward to running in the dark. It's become a part of running and a part of me. I wouldn't change it. Except maybe to have some trails closer by...:)

Catoctin Mountain / Brooks I.D. (Inspire Daily)

The view from Hog Rock, the highest overlook we could find on trail during a morning trail run on Catoctin Mountain in western Maryland.

A total loss. That's the way I would describe trail running on Maryland's Eastern Shore in the thick of summer. Wicked black flies, rampant poison ivy, and stealthy ticks, are just a few of the reasons you want to steer clear of some of the best fall, winter, spring running spots, including our mecca, Tuckahoe State Park.

When my feet aren't running on trails, they are waiting and plotting the next time they can shoot down single track or quick-step a downhill. That's the enthusiasm I took with me on a recent family trip to Catoctin Mountain Park and Cunningham Falls State Park in Thurmont, Maryland.

Trail running wasn't the reason for the trip, but Andrew Southworth and I had designs on waking up early one morning and exploring the falls, going as high up Catoctin as we could figure, and getting our bearings with a mountain scamper. I use the term mountain as a relative term--big by Eastern Shore standards, a hill by New England/western NC standards, and we won't compare west coast.

Andrew Southworth adeptly points out Cunningham Falls behind him.

Overindulgence coupled with sleepless kids in WPA-era cabins is not the best way to get ready for an early morning run on unfamiliar terrain. But Andrew and I were determined and happy, if dazed and confused and took off from the Misty Mount Cabins, map and NUUN-infused water in hand.

We circumnavigated a ranging loop that connected the park's Falls Nature Trail to Cunningham Falls, then turned us up the mountain to Hog Rock (1610 ft), shot us around to the Blue Ridge Summit Overlook (1520ft), and then rolled us down mostly downhill single track to connect us back to the park road to the cabins.

Unlike Tuckahoe, rocks far outnumbered roots, the climbing was serious, and the downhills could have landed you stranded with a misstep. In short, our 6-ish mile loop with a good bit of climb and descent, was a blast. One that should become part of a Rise Up Runner group run this fall. A seemingly unknown trail running playground, only about a two-hour drive from Easton.

Brooks - "Inspire Daily" Program

The best partnerships, and the only kind I am looking for in my running adventures, are those that benefit both parties. In my case, I run in Brooks running shoes. I've set my personal record times for 10 miles, half-marathon, and marathon wearing Brooks Adrenaline GTS's. And my Brooks Cascadia 2's carried my fresh then weary legs over the 50 miles of Appalachian Trail, C&O Canal Towpath, then winding country roads to finish the JFK 50-miler. I run in Brooks because they fit my feet best and I dig what they are about as a company.

I was interested when I heard about the Brooks I.D. (Inspire Daily) program, where Brooks invites non-elite runners who are active in their running communities, whose running and activities inspire others (or aim to), to apply to become part of a team of Brooks ambassadors, spreading the company's mojo (or in Brooks's case, MoGo, BioMogo, to be exact), and evangelizing to the running masses. In exchange, Brooks I.D. runners get sweet discounts on shoes, apparel, etc., help test new gear, and get networked in to the other I.D. runners.

I went from interested to psyched when I applied and was accepted as a new Brooks I.D. runner. Now I get to work with a company with whom I was aligning myself already and of whose brand I am a fan. My adventures in distance and trail running, with writing, and hanging with the Rise Up Runners, connect with the shoes that are already on my feet. Pretty cool.

Next up? Looking for some new trails for fall RUR road trips. Figuring out what races I can get on the fall schedule. And enjoying early morning runs as the weather gets (a little) cooler. Stay tuned...