Tuesday, September 30, 2008

RDL Stands for Many Things Part 1...Rio Del Lago 100 Mile Run

Friday 28 September 2008, day before the race

RDL = Road Delays, Late

After trouble getting out of work in Fremont on time (left at 1:40), bad traffic. First on Route 84 to get to Joe Swenson's in Livermore. Joe's wife Debbie drives. We slow down again as always on 580 by Tracy. Both bottlenecks are partially due to lane widening. Things have to get slower before they can get faster-- is that true about running ultras too? I'm further stressed as we make a bad move following the Garmin Nuvi's instructions to bypass Sacramento, perhaps a foreshadowing of the navigational problems the next day.

We arrive at Cavitt School in Granite Bay with barely enough time to register and get the goodie stuff. It's too late to get a race sweater that comes close to fitting me, but take one anyways. I do welcome a pair of cheap, yellow tinted sunglasses compliments of ING, a bank still solvent aparently. Since I left my Julbo's at home, I'm glad I can stick these in my Rattlesnake mile 11 drop box-- I'll look a little more dorky than I already do, but it will save my eyes. We put our drop bags in the piles, and then Norm gives his prerace talk, mentioning with his voice faltering, that this will be his last year directing the race, since his wife Helen asked him to stop-- she has only a few more years to live and the stress of putting these races on might be too much for them. Helen is not here, since this weekend she is speaking and running at the Quad Cities Marathon in Iowa (incidentally, where I ran my marathon PR).

Once again I am among a handful singled out to stand up, so he can tease me about calling my wife on my cell phone 2 years ago back at Cavitt (mile 67) for a supposed 45 minutes (the duration keeps getting longer every year). Jean Pommier and Michael Kanning ask if I want to eat with them at Pasta Pomodoro, but I feel I should volunteer for the U.C. Davis Sports Medicine Program's research study examining the effects of body composition and body water changes on exercise performance. Although measuring our weight, height and current don't take long (here's Joe having current run through his body),

there's a long line to get a small blood sample from the ear. Jean and Michael had already done it, having arrived far earlier.

I use some of the waiting time to pin my number on my shorts and rummage more through my drop boxes. I feel a little nervous waiting around. I know that my inability to take off work completely today was going to directly impact the amount of sleep I would get tonight, and sleep is something I've been lacking for more than a couple days. Marty Hoffman, a ultrarunning physiatrist at U.C. Davis and one of the investigators in the study, comments on my "nervous energy." I think, Hell, yeah, I'm a little anxious, a few hours ago I still had 7 patients to disposition at work, and a long drive, and I have no idea what I forgot to bring. I remember when I was in med school doing an elective rotation in physiatry, one of the residents asked me if I knew what PM&R stands for. I said "physical medicine and rehabilitation," the obvious, but he told me, "No-- Plenty of Money and Relaxation. Do you play golf?..."
Adrenaline loving idiot I was, I went into Emergency Medicine. Similar income, but not exactly the most relaxing of specialties, and scheduling problems would result in my late arrival to Cavitt School for a big race a decade later. What the hell was I thinking?

Waiting in line, I still in my blue work scrubs; Chikara is immediately to my right white shirt & black shorts

As crappy as I feel, I end up doing better than speedy Chikara Omine, who turns pale, sweaty and nearly passes out while a research assistant pricks his ear lobe to get the blood sample. This is known as a vasovagal response. Basically pain and perhaps more relevantly anxiety at having his ear pricked caused a series of physiological responses in which his autonomic nervous system dilates his blood vessels. His blood pressure drops and so he goes down. The following chart makes these mechanisms patently obvious. Get out that magnifying glass!
As Chikara lays on the ground, he tells me he's not good with needles.

I'm up finally, and apparently I don't have lots of blood courses through my ear lobes, since I have to get pricked a total of 4 times and the volunteer milks both lobes like a thirsty cow farmer for maybe 10 minutes, but with less yield. It actually hurts like hell her yanking on me as she tells me she wants to go to med school and then go into orthopedics or emergency medicine. I'm in too much earlobe pain to tell her "No! Go into PM&R!" I don't think to suggest that she prick my finger instead. Fortunately I don't become the second runner of Japanese descent to vasovagal.

We drive to the hotel in Roseville 5 miles away, and against our better judgement, end up taking out at, of all places, Burger King, for expediency, since it's so late. I get a Whopper Junior for 99 cents plus tax--I'm still working on my half loaf of bread. Probably a good move, as Joe and Debbi get more expensive chicken sandwiches to which they attribute their next day's GI problems.

I realize going through my bag that the socks I stuck in a drop bag that I thought were a spare, were in actuality my only socks. So I have no socks to wear to the race. Joe lends me a pair Wright Socks, XL's a bit too big for me, but they'll have to do.

Saturday 29 September, day of the race

Maybe I'm asleep by 9:45, not bad, but I wake up at 3 a.m. and don't get back to sleep. I would reassure myself that it's the night before the night before that counts, except that Thurday night was the same-- I didn't sleep well and had to get up butt early to go to work Friday morning. We give Ben Field from Los Gatos a lift so that he doesn't have to wake up his family at 5 am.

As soon as we get to the gym, I run to get my Hazel Bluff drop bag, where I left my Injinji toe socks. I see piles for all the other aid stations bag, but not Hazel Bluff! "They're already taken away" a volunteer tells me. Before I can crap in Joe's too large socks, volunteer David Combs comes up and tells me he put them in his car, just getting a head start. He leads me to his car and I retrieve my socks from my drop bag (actually a plastic box), relieved, but feeling very disorganized.

I'm a little late walking out to the start. Normally the races begin at Cavitt, but because of trail detours adding more than a half mile each way to the stretch between the school and Folsom Dam (miles 67-70 and 97-100) related to some Homeland Security / Department of the Interior renovation of the dam, we start this year half a mile out on the levees to half-mitigate the extra mile. I talk a little with Jean Pommier and his wife Agnes, but have to stop to adjust my laces of my Sportiva Lynx. Despite the situation, I'm still feeling sleepy. A few minutes later, at 5:59 a.m., Norm Klein counts down from 10.......3...2...1...

Sunday, September 28, 2008

Rio del Lago 100-Mile brief blurb

What a scorcher!  Highs in the mid to upper 90's in some parts yesterday, took a beating and heavy toll on the largest starting field ever.

I missed my primary goal (aside from running Rio again for the hell of it) of beating Jean Pommier for the 132 PAUSATF Ultra Grand Prix points, as he was able to come through with a solid run commensurate with his speed.  So I'll lose the 50% race discounts for next year, but maybe this will help me get out of my "PAUSATF rut" as fellow ultrarunner has called it.  Even after I figured I wasn't going to catch Jean, I came up with other goals to keep moving. At one point I really thought that just finishing would be a major accomplishment.  4th place in my 4th running of this race.  3rd time not quite able to come under 20 hours in a 100-miler this year.

Plenty of great blogging fodder-- numerous mishaps, amusing moments that I didn't think were amusing at the time, race director Norm Klein's signature confrontation/pep talk/thrashing, some in a toilet stall) with/of carpool buddy Joe Swenson and his wife, terrorizing the wildlife, volunteers crouching to do special favors for me.  (NO, NOT WHAT YOU'RE THINKING!)  I met a couple of new up-and-coming runners (two would later pass me for good).  Despite the extra nasty stench and recurrent low grade nausea, had an ultra-fun time.

Instead of pulling a STORMY or a Tahoe-- that is, still not having posted yet weeks to months after the fact because I can't find the time to get it completed, but please read them if and when I do them-- I'll blog this race in installments, sort of the way you sometimes have to mentally break down these monster races into smaller segments to get through running them. 

Friday, September 26, 2008

Pre-O del Lago

To (force myself to) be the optimist, I'm just happy I'm able to run tomorrow.

At the end of August, I still had to get out of my midnight-ending shift today (Friday 9/26). Despite my request to have the day off, my scheduler, who *usually* tries to let me do my runs without working until 2am the evening before, had scheduled me for noon to midnight, which not only screws up the sleep, but would have precluded making the mandatory pre-race check in. Probably has something to do with our being short staffed, and the several other scheduling requests I had to make for the month.

The problem is, Friday noon to midnight is a tough sell, and I'm working so much, I didn't have a free Friday on which I could cover the same shift for a person who might have the 26th off. Everyone's working over full schedule as it is, and people have plans. I did find someone who can could work that shift (Mickey below), but he was working 6am the next morning, so I had to call the 10am to 10pm person and ask if she'll switch to noon to midnight..... and then a bunch of other people. In return for his favor, I offered to do Mickey's overnight shift on the 1st, which was painful, since it eliminated the essential recovery day following my overnight shifts, and was a particularly hideous night.

In addition, though I can work 6am today, I can't stay until 3pm and make it to the pre-race meeting, so I need an afternoon doctor (Shakira!) to come in early.

So it ends up being a complicated switch ultimately involving 4 of my colleagues. But since one person not being able to do the switch makes the whole thing fall through, I must've contacted about 3 times that number for other possible trade scenarios. Here's the email I sent in the end to the schedule maintenance people (names changed, and then further tweaked to avoid any lawsuits).

Monday September 1st:

  • Ultrailnakaman will work the Fremont 23-630 (not Mickey Rodent)

Friday September 26th:

  • Mickey Rodent will work Hayward 10-22 (not Braised Daisy Duck)
  • Braised Daisy Duck will work Hayward 12-24 (not Ultrailnakaman)
  • Ultrailnakaman will work Fremont 6-1330 (not Goofy Dog-Bear-Thing 6-15)
  • Goofy Dog-Bear-Thing will work Fremont 8-17 (not Mickey Rodent)
  • Shakira! will work Fremont 1230-24 (instead of 14-24, same 1 hour overlap with the first shift)
Plus a self-deprecating thank you to thank all those volunteering to help me out.
  • Thank you everyone for offering to make these changes so I can make it to the mandatory check-in at Granite Bay (northeast of Sacramento) that afternoon and pursue my meaninglessly stupid hobby all the next day, especially Mickey, since I know he really wanted to labor on his overnight on Labor Day in celebration of labor. Also thanks to the people I cc'd who offered to switch but won't need to (just giving a heads up). I love you all. xoxoxo
So, I'm just glad I can run Rio. I have great helpful colleagues that will mess with their already full schedules. I am SO-O-O-O lucky!

Lucky lucky as a braised Beijing ducky. Never mind the flu thing going around, involved my nose, my head, my whole body, and my gastrointestinal tract which will probably result in at least 20 minutes of pit stops tomorrow. Feeling extra exhausted from 4 instead of 3 overnights this past weekend. Usually I have trouble falling asleep at night initially, but this time I couldn't get enough sleep. And I didn't. Two night ago we had to host some a meeting at our house and to my exhausted agony, it went WAY later than I had wanted. The insomnia came.....last night-- the crucial night before the day before. Oh well, think positive--it's really the...night before the night before the night before that counts!

I walk into work this morning, and who's working but the scheduler (also an ED doc, he gets adminitrative time to do the schedule). Despite my normally better judgement and restraint, at some point, I think after one of my overnights last weekend, I subtly asked him why he screwed me over this month. "Oh powerful and almighty scheduler your Highness, did I do something to make you hate me?" or something like that, minus the sarcasm. Oh, I can't remember, I was so sleepy at the time.

This morning, before he can finish signing out his patients to me, an ambulance brings this guy in, not dead, but pretty close. Scheduler helps me out (he's still being paid anyways) and puts a central venous line in the guy's right internal jugular shortly after I intubate him. I thank him for starting the line, and he apologizes again for having scheduled me to work today, and wishes me luck on the race, and I make no sarcastic remarks, but mention that I'm going to ask for vacation months in advance for future 100-mile races. I work my butt off for the first two hours with my first and a couple other patients. The 8am doctor comes in and there are no patients for 90 minutes, while he sleeps in his chair.....I get some time to start this post before it gets busy again. (I guess I'm thankful it let up enough for this too...)

My other two 100 milers involved a trip somewhere with extra family to accompany my wife and kids. This time I'm just leaving them. Big domestic political expenditure here. But some vacation plans with her family to make up for this soon.

Uh, oh, more patients coming in.....will I get out of here to carpool buddy Joe Swenson's house in time? .....well, definitely not if I keep working on this post..... gotta run!

first published, Friday, September 26th, sometime in the morning

Monday, September 8, 2008

(Barely) Avoiding the Cramp'n'Crump at the Stevens Creek 50k

In years past, race director Steve Patt would hold the Stevens Creek 50k in March as a birthday present to himself. The race was often cold, windy, and wet, and I guess in 2006 one runner was crossing the torrential river on a slippery log and went into over his head. (He didn't drown.) But all the volunteers including the head volunteer, his wife, Debi Jamison were cold and wet too.  So last year he decided to do it in September. It was a beautiful day apparently. The only danger about a race in early September is that it can get really, brutally hot.

Joe Swenson and I decided to carpool to the race. Since he and his wife will be driving me up to Rio del Lago later this month, I offered to drive him to this race.

At 8:45ish, he calls me on my cell from the race start in the parking lot at Skyline Ridge Open Space Preserve off of Skyline Boulevard in the mid-peninsula. "Uh did I get the date wrong?"

"Uh, dude, yeah."

Apparently he'd shown up at my house, and after I didn't answer my phone, had the good judgement to not ring my doorbell and wake up my whole family. Then he drove another 70-80 minutes to the start.

Sunday, he arrives at 7:30, a little later than I'd hoped, but we make it there as Director Steven Patt is giving his pre-race speech. I fill prepare my water bottles, drop off my check (in lieu of an entry fee, RD Steve asks all runners to make a voluntary contribution to the Santa Clara Audobon Society), get a bottle of S-Caps at wholesale price from Pierre-Yves Couteau, running his first 50k (although he completed Firetrails 50 mile last October) then figure out who showed up.

The sun's bright and it's already approaching 80 degrees before the race starts. I'm glad I'm wearing my Sportiva tank top, although I suspect I might get some sunburn.

listening to race instructions (photo by Craig Heinselman)

Because there are only 3 aid stations during the course, and the first 2 stretches are 10.9 and 8.4 miles long, I bring 2 water bottles, but decide against a hydration pack. My shoulders and arms are already sore from having schlepped tons of stuff up and down our stairs to my car and to from the parking lot to this local swim hole for my younger son's first birthday party the day before.

We walk to across the parking lot and then Skyline Boulevard (route 35) to the start. I quickly pee in the bushes, wondering if I had had the time to use a toilet (I didn't), if I could gave produced something more solid and substantive, and then wonder if I'm going to have GI problems from all the catered Filipino food I ate the day before-- lumpia, egg rolls, pancit and barbequed meat skewers--not exactly pure carbo loading.

Steven uses me as an example of a fast runner who should make his way to the front since the course starts off with a lot of narrow single track. I see Ron Gutierrez, who finished 2nd at the Tahoe Rim Trail 50 (in which I finished 36th) and beats me about half the time we run the same race, and we catch up on recent race stuff.

I'm soon having trouble keeping up the conversation, especially on the uphills, which Ron does very well. He's been suffering from shin splints, and sounds like he's been training as suboptimally as I. Pretty soon this older guy I'd never seen before catches up with us, looking very relaxed, and then passes us. We both work to catch up with him. I find out he's Bruce La Belle, and that he's 53 years old, 12 more than Ron and me. He keeps losing us on the downhills (and the first 5 miles are more down than up).  I ask Ron "who the hell is this guy?"  At one point Ron is almost up with him and I'm lagging behind. Okay, so now it's not just Ron, but this guy 12 years older. If I thought I had any chance of winning this race, it just went down below 33%.

Bruce La Belle, after finishing in 3rd overall

A few miles in, Ron starts lagging and soon I can't see or hear him behind us. Bruce admits to having come in 2nd at Western States in 1984, so I feel a little better. He took at decade long break from ultras, and just started running them again.

The course starts ascending more than descendingm which isn't Bruce's forte and soon I'm running alone.  Okay, so maybe I can win this thing, I tell myself, and I try to keep a steady effort, while not feeling I'm killing myself trying to keep up with anyone. In between all this are hoards of mountain bikers, some of whom comply will the rules of the trail "bikes yield to hiker (and runners) yield to horses", but some, well, just suck.

David Combs at mile 11 (photo by Craig Heinselman)

At the first aid station, I recognize David Combs, and Rajeev Patel, who fills up my bottles (thanks, man!). I get some ice to stick in my cap and then set out the wrong way (I was supposed to go back the way we came, but I hadn't had time to study the course map beforehand.) I'm surprised that the first person I see running the other way is not Bruce or Ron, but a woman I don't recognize-- my lap split is about 2 1/2 minutes, so I have a gap of 5 minutes on her, not including time at the aid station, which is presumably longer than average for everyone given it's the first in almost 11 miles. I see Bruce at about 3:30 and then Ron shortly after. I think Pierre, who sold me the S Caps, is not far behind. The course finally crosses Skyline Boulevard, at the first turnaround aid station for PCTR's Skyline Ridge 50k I ran 6 months earlier. By this time, my left calf, which went into spasm over the weekend as I tried to pull the heel of my clogs over my heel while stopped at a red light going to my overnight shift on last Saturday night, is increasing feeling like it's going to go into spasm. Five or six times I stop to stretch it out, and once I retie my left shoe suspecting I had it tied too tight and that was making the problem worse.

coming to mile 19 aid station (the start/finish), photo by Jean Pommier?

My split at the start/19.3 mile/finish aid station is 2:55. Of course, I have no idea how far back my nearest competitor is, so I try to be efficient and fast.  After having one bottle filled, I dump the other along with my car key (one of those bulky smart ones) since I hate running with 2 bottles and it's only 6 miles to the next and last aid station, chug a cup of sports drink, then cruise out. In my haste, I forget to grab more electrolyte caps, I realize later. I finger my shorts pocket and note half reassured that I have one left.

Making my way up the big hill heading toward Russian Ridge Open Space Preserve, I look back to see if anyone is catching up, while feeling my calf still about to spasm. Finally I reach the summit with a beautiful view you will have to imagine.

Normally, it feels really good to crest a hill and start running down.  Plus, there's often a nice breeze cooling things down. Today, not and not! Instead of just my calf, my whole body now feels like it's going to go into spasm. I would slow down a lot, but again, I have no idea where everyone is, and I suspect that my slower pace for the 2nd third of the course shortened my lead. I swallow my lyte cap sooner than I'd planned. I get a little psychological boost passing some volunteers checking the course.

I think the two with the white shirts were those volunteers (Matt Thau and John Behring?)  in this photo taken after the race, and the other 2 are runners.

My bottle almost empties at 3 miles. I save a little but even just as a psychological measure, it's futile.  Maybe dumping that 2nd bottle wasn't so smart.

Mile 25 aid station volunteers, including Jean Pommier, photo by another mystery volunteer

Finally I get to the 25 mile aid station. I tell them I am SO not feeling well, so they tell me I can take it easy, since I was WAY ahead of everyone at the 20 mile aid station. While another volunteer fills my bottle, speedy Jean Pommier takes my bandana (swag in our goodie bags, with a map of the parks in which the course runs printed on it) and dumps in water and ties in around my neck, then similarly with my cap. I down 2 caps and take 2 to go. They point me further down the trail, but apparently I'm just supposed to go a little ways to the gate and then come back. It's really short to the gate, so short in fact, plus there's no sign saying turnaround, so I'm not sure that's what they meant, so I try screaming to them "is this the gate?" as if they could hear me. I'm delirious and not thinking very clearly. After a few seconds deliberation, I just decide to come back and I ask if it was the gate and they tell me it was the gate.  Great.

maybe returning from the exciting gate episode (photo by Jean Pommier)

I head on out, eager to see exactly what they meant by WAY ahead. Since I was so behind on fluids, I may have drunk too much, or maybe what I drank I did too fast. I'm feeling somewhat nauseated. After 6 minutes without seeing anyone, I calculate at least a 12 minutes gap, so I can go 2 minutes per mile slower than the person behind me. 9 minutes--3 minutes per mile. Finally at about 12 1/2 minutes, as I end a series of uphills, I see Pierre coming. 5 miles to go, so I can go 5 minutes per mile slower and still win.  I can puke a few times and maybe still win.  What a comfortable cushion!

But I still have to get back without a major disaster, like getting way lost, or badly injured. Just one bad spasm and I'm done. I walk more of the uphills. Approaching the final large summit about a mile and a half from the finish, I look at my watch and it's 1:47. Can I finish under 5 hours?  Do I really care?  No, but I need any goal to get my butt moving.  With a new goal, I start jogging up the hill again. Suddenly I'm blasted with a wave of heat rising up against the windless hillside from below. Forget it.

about a mile and a half to go: "Should I start running?" I ask Craig Heinselman as he aims.

He tells me not to, since it's good to see me looking more human.  Nice compliment since I usually look like a dork.  Thanks, Craig for taking photos, and you get to deduct at least 20-30 minutes from your time.

The course goes down a different path to the finish, and once again, I don't get to enjoy gliding effortlessly downhill but run crippled to prevent anything from spasming.

At the finish, I feel as happy to finish as I feel.....finished.   I'm offered the chair. It takes a long while for my breathing to slow down, as I'm handed bottles of fluids and start to graze on zucchini bread and Togo's sandwiches.

the finisher's tent with some more awesome volunteers and the RD and his wife at right

We stage the ceremonial photo, of RD Steve handing me the winner's plaque.

Pierre comes in almost 37 minutes after me.  Great performance for a rookie on such a hot day! I start to get worried, because it's the sort of day where someone might collapse, like at Ohlone in May.  (Luckily no one collapsed.)  For less compassionate and more selfish reasons, I'm worried because I can't leave until Joe finishes.  If Joe crumps out on the last 12 miles, it would be a long time before I could get home. I was on a deadline, since I had promised my wife I'd babysit and put to bed both our kids and my niece, as well as make sure my twin nephews went to bed on time, while she and my brother and his wife went out to eat. I offered this as a way to get to do this race and be gone leaving her with the kids all morning.

The first female comes in almost an hour after me, but it's not the woman I saw leading at the 11 mile turnaround. Apparently Lina McCain's won this race before.

Fortunately, Joe come in 7th, a little over an hour after I.

We're all happy just to finish.  By the end 36 of the 59 starters would finish, most of those who dropped did so by mile 19. I never got a chance to find out why Ron dropped, but I imagine it might have been his shin splints. He is extremely tough, as I found out at Firetrails last year.

Before we get into the car, I make it a point to pee. I haven't peed all race. Not that much comes out. Whoops. I suspect that I never adequately hydrated out in the heat all day before for my infant's first birthday party.

Thanks for all the volunteers, who weren't exactly lazing around a pool on such a hot day! Steve is good to list them Debi Jamison (his wife), Dave Combs, Stan Jensen, Sanjay & Vik Waghray, Mollie Whisler and children, Rajeev Patel, Bob Power, Bob Hirt, Jean Pommier, Christine Miller, Tom Davis, Lisa Cogar, Brian Hawkinson, Penny Beeston and friends (course marking), Buddy Pohl (course marking), Matt Thau and John Behring (course checking). You all rocked!

So my work for the day isn't finished yet. To get to do this race without incurring any guilt or parental debt, I promised my wife she could go out to dinner somewhere nice with whomever and I'd watch the kids. So as soon as I shower quickly at home, we drive up to Marin and I put down our baby, my older toddler son and my nice, while eyeing my older twin nephews, one doing something pyromaniacal in the back porch, but their house doesn't burn down.

My baby wakes up in the middle of the night, and for over an hour is either crying or screaming happily, so no one sleeps well and I feel pretty sick the next day.  However, no regrets.  It's just another post-race ultrarunning hangover.

official results

first published Wednesday, September 10, 2008, at 2:15 am, 6 hours before a plane flight (so sorry this was a little raw....)

Thursday, September 4, 2008

Last Weekend's Post-Nightshift Nightmare

I'm watching a one of those security cameras up close and I see my wife and she's screaming and shrieking as this guy is attacking her, and I can't do anything, just watch helplessly, this scene out of a horror movie, except it's real. He's murdering her! Just then, the scene cuts and the announcer says "Don't let this happen to you and your family-- and it won't if you have RoboDog! RoboDog, the robotic guard dog that growls and barks and will even bite any intruder into your home. You should've had RoboDog. Have your credit card ready and order today!"

(kind of like this, only it had sharp teeth. actually I was too upset to take a good look....)

I'm tripping out and realize that it's the future, when advertisers get your personal information from the web, including you facebook account and my blog, and then custom-design provocative and terrifying advertisements that play in your head even without a television screen, and won't stop until you buy what they want you to buy, and this all happened because as the result of a few decades of continual pro-big-corporation, but otherwise anti-science control of the White House and both houses of Congress as I kept blogging and not getting political so I deserved this HA HA HA HA HA (evil cackling) and okay now I'm up and I'm sweaty and I look at the clock and it's only 2330 (sorry I dream and think in military time) and I have to get up in 5 hours to work, when you were just starting work yesterday at the same time, and this messed up Circadian is why I'm having this fricking nightmare and can't sleep normally. I get up, pop an Ambien, and a Pepcid, and drink them down. A few hours later as I leave for my hour long running commute to work, I'm thinking, this could be worse.....

I didn't tell my wife about this one.

first published Tuesday September 9, 2008 at 0002