Haze Grey

So, after a little more than two months on terra firma, I am once again sailing the ocean blue. No, this is not a major deployment or a maritime partnership engagement, and we are definitely not bound for Haiti. This very short underway period is for "Unit Level Training." This is what we do when we haven't been to sea for awhile, and we do if for very good reasons:


The ship: While in port there's been a fair amount of maintenance, repair, and upkeep on this forty-year old vessel. (I can personally attest to that from the frequent pounding, hammering, and needle gunning on the steel deck over my head in the last two months.) After all that repair work it's a good idea to take the lady out for a test spin close to home, just to be sure all the parts got put back together right. (So far it's looking good.) Also, the ship has to complete a certain number of certifications and other tests before it's allowed to stray far from home. Need to be sure all the many systems are operating correctly to so she's ready for a real world operational tasking.


The crew: As with any Navy crew, a lot of turnover occurred since we arrived home just before Thanskgiving from our last deployment. New sailors need to be integrated into the team, so they are comfortable with their duties, and - more importantly - their chiefs are comfortable with them. Also, we've completed three two-week leave periods, meaning many of our sailors have had their heads into things other than warfighting, like families, girlfriends/boyfriends, weddings and babies, travel, sightseening, holidays and hanging out. You know, the things about being Americans that we all really like, which are the very reasons why we rogered up to do these jobs in the first place. So the crew needs to get their heads back into the ball game and test their true mettle. Can't win a major championship without being practiced, tested, and fully focused (just ask the Dallas Cowboys about that one).


The Fleet staff: The ship is our headquarters and office. We go where it goes. And we do pretty much the same work from the same computers (albeit less bandwidth and slower connections), and we go to the same meetings in the same rooms and see the same people and view the same briefs and accomplish the same plans and taskers, afloat or ashore. The difference now is we don't get to go home in the evening, so we can work longer hours and have more meetings and do more plans, and it's all good for the mission. Of course we miss our families and loved ones, especially when there's been a lot of good cooking going on and we're in the middle of another gripping season of "Brothers and Sisters", and Matt is in exam week and about to start his last semester of high school, and track season is right around the corner. But we did sign up for this, and by being here we each do our own little part to ensure peace and stability in this part of the world...and thus help to assure a free future for our children and their children.


Life is a bit simpler while underway. No grocery shopping, cooking, dishes to do, car to fill with gas, lawn to mow, garbage to take out, or people asking what's for dinner. All of life is lived within the same 1000 feet from fore to aft. But the gently rolling sea is great for sleeping.


I'm reminded of what I heard a retiring senior officer say during my very first deployment 18 years ago: "I enjoyed every day when I was at sea on the ship. But I never missed it for even a single day when I was home with my loved ones."


I'm a sailor, and sailors go to sea. It is that simple. So, whether for a day or a year, I go wherever the ship takes me. Sooner or later I'll hear the familiar announcement of "Liberty Call, Liberty Call." Then I'll step off the ship and see where I am. And hopefully sooner than later, it will be back home.

Dialogue

Minerva: "Now listen here, Flat Boy, what do you think you're doing in my space."


Flat Stanley: "I'm listening to Aunt Kathy read aloud."


Minerva: "I don't remember inviting you."


Flatty: "But Aunt Kathy is famous for her reading aloud. Everyone knows it's the highlight of her day."


Minerva: "I still don't remember inviting you. This is my personal Kathy time and you are invading my space."


Flatty: "Well, I am a guest in this house. And Aunt Kathy has taken me all over, so I'm sure she doesn't mind that I'm here. And there's plenty of room. I think you could share a little space."


Minerva: "I don't do sharing. Just ask CC."


Flatty: "I wish you would just be quiet so I can hear her read. It's all so interesting."


Minerva: "You gotta be kidding. A non-fiction book about hunter-gatherers and food producers or whatever? It is definitely not interesting. Frankly, it's one of the most boring books I've ever heard her read. She's got this thing lately about reading non-fiction, and it's driving me nuts. I wish she'd get back to her mystery genre. I so much prefer good fiction to this pseudo-science dribble."


Flatty: "Well, if you don't like it, then why do you stay and listen?"


Minerva: "I like the sound of her voice, even when it's boring. And the bed is warmer than the back porch."


Flatty: "I don't know. It seems a little strange to me."


Minerva: "Strange? You're talking strange? I'll tell you strange. You're a laminated cutout of a person and you're carrying on a conversation with a cat. Now that is strange."


Flatty: "Hmmm. Well, I'll tell you something, Miss Snobby Cat. You can call it strange if you want, but what do you think happens if you Google 'Flat Stanley'? You learn that I've got siblings everywhere and they are all doing exactly what I'm doing. They are stimulating the minds of millions of children all over the world. We are every bit as real as the imaginations of those boys and girls. So I'd appreciate it if you would just lighten up a little bit and let me enjoy my last day in Japan connecting with one of the most intriguing imaginations I've ever known.


Kathy: Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Kaijou Jieitai

January 19, 1960. I was in 8th grade at St. Gregory's School in Phoenix, AZ, where I had somehow struggled my way into the starting five of our basketball team. I was "going with" one 8th grade girl while at the same time infatuated with another girl who was "going with" one of the stars of the basketball team, who was much better at the game than I was. Approaching the end of my 14th year on earth, my life's priorities revolved around classroom and gym, studies and dances, sports and girls. I knew little of the world beyond St. Gregory's, Phoenix, or Arizona...and I cared even less.


I was blissfully unaware that on that very day President Dwight D. Eisenhower and Japanese Prime Minister Nobusuke Kishi signed the Treaty of Mutual Cooperation and Security between the United States and Japan. So I had not the slightest inkling that 50 years later I would be wearing U.S. Navy service dress blues while standing at attention on a pier in Yokosuka, Japan at a ceremony honoring that very event.


In 1960 all I knew of Japan and its military was what I'd seen in the epic film, "Bridge on the River Kwai" or similar movies (most of which featured John Wayne). If anyone had told me then that I would eventually count among my friends some high ranking Japanese admirals I would have probably given you  the same incredulous look I sometimes get from my son when I suggest things beyond his ken. But such is the challenge of youth, not knowing how much you really don't know.




The simple yet profound ceremony was hosted by the Japanese Maritime Self Defense Force (JMSDF), or Kaijou Jieitai in Japanese. Officers and enlisted from both nations stood in ranks for speeches by the U.S. 7th Fleet Commander and his Japanese counterpart, the Commander in Chief, Self Defense Fleet. We then honored the raising of both nation's colors aboard the JMSDF Takanami-class guided-missile destroyer JDS Oonami (DD 111) and the U.S. Arleigh Burke-class guided-missile destroyer USS Lassen (DDG 82). To me the most profound moment of the ceremony was when the bands from each fleet flawlessly and beautifully played each other's national anthems.


While I have matured over fifty years from that testosterone-driven nacent teenager of 1960, the U.S.-Japan alliance has grown into one of the most powerful and meaningful alliances in the world today. Just as the lives of Americans are inexorably linked to Japanese companies such as Sony, Yamaha, Panasonic, and Toyota, the main street of Yokosuka is dotted with the likes of KFC, Burger King, TGI Fridays, and a department store owned by Wal-Mart. But the alliance is far more than financial or political. It is rooted in deeply held principles and fundamental beliefs about freedom and honor and courage and integrity. So while our cultures may be different in many ways, we are closely allied by very similar core values. And, for those of us who wear uniforms that are likewise different yet similar, a deeper tie exists: our honorable commitment to serve, and to defend those shared core values against a spectrum of potential enemies.


In January, 1960 that 13-year-old boy certainly had no idea where his life would be 50 years later. I really don't remember ever having a plan for that far in the future, but I can think of no higher honor than to be standing on that pier, wearing that uniform, in a country that my family and I have come to love, with a people whom we are honored to regard as friends, and sharing colors and national anthems with my brothers and sisters of the Kaijou Jieitai. A glorious day indeed.

Agony Without Ecstacy

Running - even the challenge of long distance running - is usually a pleasant activity. Millions of enthusiastic runners worldwide attest to the benefits of the sport. Two weeks ago I posted pictures from a particularly enjoyable outing along my favorite route to Kannonzaki, complete with great weather, picturesque views, an inspirational sighting of Mt. Fuji, and overall runner's high. I recall tacking on an extra mile just to prolong that euphoria.


Sometimes, albeit rarely, a particular run just doesn't work out. Yesterday along the same favorite route I found myself feeling anything but euphoric as I staggered home at the end with my whole body screaming in agony.


I had carefully planned my 22-mile route, only to suffer what runner's variously refer to as "bonk", "tank", or "the wall" at mile 16, still six miles from home. I was just beyond Kannonzaki and very ready to be done with it. Except the only reasonable way to get home from there is by foot or hitchhiking (which I've never seen in Japan, and I would be too embarrassed to do). So I had no choice but to continue running...or more accurately run-walk-hobbling. Those last six miles turned into the most painful I've ever experienced during a run. And since it took me well over an hour to cover the distance, I had plenty of time to reflect on the pre-flight errors in judgment (i.e., lessons learned) that clearly set me up for the bonk: 1) Allowing work stress and cold weather to be excuses for not running during the week; 2) Eating badly throughout the week; 3) Not enough rest during the week, and especially the night before; 4) Not taking proper nourishment before or during the run; 5) Overdressing for the weather; 6) Not replacing depleted electrolytes. In brief: Too overconfident from my last long run.


Nevertheless, whatever agony I suffered was self-imposed. No one forced me to attempt a long run yesterday. I chose to do so. How many people on this earth suffered incomprehensible agony yesterday that was not of their choosing, and beyond their control? Gruesome visions of Haiti immediately came to mind. Victims of other natural and man-made disasters. Wounded warriors. Prisoners of war. Political prisoners of rogue states. Victims of chronic disease and terminal illness. Not to mention the millions with emotional anguish who suffer in intense silence, their pain unbeknownst even to those who are closest to them.


Weighed against that manner of suffering, which exists every day and often afflicts the totally innocent, my runner's bonk seems - and is - inconsequential...except to remind me never to take anyone's suffering lightly.


And how ironic that earlier in the course of the run my iPod played the score from "Jesus Christ Superstar," from which I gained perspective of one totally innocent who suffered deliberately for a far greater cause than finishing a marathon.

Return from Kannonzaki and the Unexpected Onlooker

Inbound from Kannonazki, the view across Tokyo Bay to Chiba:

Greeting my favorite Jizo as I head back down Route 16, methinks Jizo is overdressed today, for it is cool and crisp, not windy or wet.








The (relatively) new Yokosuka Art Museum appears across Route 16.







A short bit further I come over the hill, pass the Keikyu Kannonzaki Resort Hotel and SPASSO Spa, then break upon a view that is clear all the way to Yokohama.

At the highest point I can see my entire return route to the Base, but I fail to notice the lady looking over the same scene.

Heading back along the bayside segment, I still don't see her. Perhaps I am looking too much at my feet.

I raise my gaze to the horizon and suddenly there she is:

Fuji-san!

Such an unexpected, beautiful sight. The splendor of this unusually clear winter day and the majesty of the mountain and the bay below it truly inspires. I am so fortunate to be alive and running. Light of heart as I complete my run, I tack on an extra mile to celebrate life and all it brings to us.

Kannonzaki Again - With Real Pictures This Time

Last weekend I ran a 19 miler, so I took along my camera to collect some images of this scenic route from Fleet Activities Yokosuka (upper left on map) to Kannonzaki (far right on map) and back. 


Having done a loop and a half on the base first, I welcomed this park and water/head stop at the nine mile point:

A runner always notices restaurants: 

Fishing inlet and interesting sign.




















Then I run along the bay by Maborikaigan, and up the hill to more.....restaurants.

Top of the hill, look back over the Bay, then down a steep hill (that will be a steep climb on return leg) to an idyllic fishing cove:

Almost to the turnaround:

Hang a left down to the boardwalk in front of Keikyu Kannonzaki Hotel and SPASSO spa:

Around the bend the Kannonzaki Lighthouse comes into view:

A short run to the Rest Stop and turnaround at the water stop/head:


















Next Post: Inbound leg and a most unexpected onlooker.

Numbers Don't Lie, But...

Shortly after nine p.m. on New Year's Eve, Kathy proudly proclaimed that she had achieved her 2009 goal of reading 12 non-fiction books. As she smugly entered the latest tome into her handwritten log book, she announced that she had read 104 books over the year. "That's two books a week!"  In addition to her reading skills, she's really good at math.


We both keep logs of our favorite activities. Mine involve exercise. I've long since abandoned the handwritten variety for computer based versions, and in 2009 I actually succeeded in keeping a year's data intact on one hard drive without losing it to crashes or gremlins. Some interesting and unexpected results sprung from the year-end summary:


I exercised 275 hours and 20 minutes in 245 days, with 120 "rest" days interspersed. In that non-marathon year I ran 1,040 miles in 193 hours and 26 minutes (11:10 minutes per mile pace). I also bicycled for 1,187 miles in 73 hours and 23 minutes (16.2 mph, including hills and traffic lights). Miscellaneous activities such as calisthenics made up the rest of the time. Altogether I burned over 203,845 calories through exercise, or an average of 832+ calories per activity.


"Not a bad year," I thought, until I compared my weight on this New Year's Day to the same day a year ago...a net gain of 3 pounds! That means I consumed 10,500 more calories than I burned. (A large part of that consumption probably occurred in a banquet in Kuala Lumpur. I am not nearly as compulsive about logging caloric intake as I am output.)


To my knowledge, Kathy doesn't regularly keep track of her weight, but she appears to have gained nary an ounce over the last year.


So this leads to my 2010 New Year resolution: Not to exercise more, but to eat less and keep better track of intake as well as output. Or maybe I just need to read more books...