Standup Comedy

They say that I’m a woman of many talents.  But being funny is not one of them.  When I took on this dare, I knew I was in for a real challenge.  The one thing I am good at though is studying.  I’m a good student and when I put my mind to something, I can usually make good progress in a short period of time.  That said, I have no delusions of ever becoming a comedic genius like Chappelle or Mike Birbiglia.  I figured putting together a five minute routine is within reach.

I approached it like I’m studying for the SATs.  The first step is to find the best source to learn from.  After I did some research, it seems that the book Step by Step to Stand-up Comedy by Greg Dean was widely considered the comedy bible.  In the book, he details a systematic approach to joke writing.  Systems?  Did I say I love systems?

It goes something like this.  First, select any situation, or setup.

This morning I got up and ran five miles. 

Then you list out the unspoken assumptions made by people when they hear that statement.  One assumption might be that she ran to get exercise.  Next, what you want to do is to break that assumption.  You can brainstorm some alternative reasons to why she was running.  Perhaps because she was dragged along by something against her will?  Perhaps she was chased by a scary person?  This line of thought might prompt the following joke.

This morning I got up and ran five miles.  You would’ve too, if you rolled over and saw the troll I picked up last night at the bar. 

In this manner, I wrote several pages of jokes.  I tried a few of them on Dan and got some laughs.  Unfortunately, they were not laughs prompted by my jokes but cackles at me and my jokes.  The sad part is, I completely agreed.  Even I can tell those jokes weren’t funny.  Flipping through the pages of “jokes” I generated, I couldn’t help but become discouraged.

Normally, I consider myself someone with above average discipline and ability to get things done.  But writing comedy was just low-priority enough and discouraging enough that I couldn’t get going.  After tabling the project for a few month, I finally decided to get some extra help and signed up for a comedy class.

The class met once a week for eight weeks.  I did my homework diligently.  At the end of the eight weeks, I had some jokes ready and performed a five-minute set to a sold-out audience at Improv Boston.

On the day of the big event, I was nervous and unfocused.  I was the fifth performer in the lineup.  On one hand, I was glad that I wasn’t the first to go because it’s a well-known fact of comedy that a crowd needs time to warm up, but on the other hand, going fifth meant I had to fidget through four people’s routines.  As each comedian went and my turn got closer, I got more and more nervous. 

When a comedian said something funny, I would be nervous that my set wouldn’t be as good.  When someone made a hiccup, I would get nervous for them and worry about me doing the same thing.  All in all, the wait was excruciating.  I stood in the back of the room and practiced taking deep yoga breaths in and out to keep it together.

Finally, it was my turn.  I took another deep breath and walked onto the stage.

I was high on adrenaline and it almost felt like an out-of-body experience.  When it was finally over, I floated off the stage.  My entire body was flooded with a mixture of euphoria and exhaustion.  In the final analysis, the experience was definitely worth all the work and the nervous torture leading up to it.  If you’ve ever toyed with the idea of doing standup, I say go for it!

Learning to Rap

This month’s dare is to enter a freestyle rap competition. If you ever watched Eminem’s 8 Mile, that’s what I’m talking about. Personally, my exposure to rap has thus far consisted of dancing to Rob Base in Junior High, and having Biz Markie’s Just a Friend as my ring tone (the part that goes “Hey baby you, you got what I need, and you say he’s just a friend …”) When Dan proposed this dare last December, I figured, why not. Well, famous last words.

As I finally sat down this month to think about what I have committed myself to doing, I realized that I’m way over my head. First of all, I haven’t even the slightest clue on how to rap, let alone making up songs on the fly. The month is half over, and I’d better come up with a plan. As a first step, I ordered How to Rap and The Complete Rhyming Dictionary on Amazon. Yeah, I can’t rhyme either. Well, I can do things like “cat” and “bat” and “hit” and “pit” in a pinch, simple baby stuff. But definitely not like Paul Barman’s “will amazon com be here grandma’s gone mom?”

While waiting for the books, I figured I’d try to develop some intuition by listening to some rap and sing along.  Dan recommended listening to some Big Daddy Kane, since it’s 80s rap and probably a little less sophisticated. I found a song called Ain’t No Half Steppin. As I hit play, I was stunned by how fast the rapper talked and as a non-native speaker, I can’t even read fast enough, let alone sing it. As I tried to furiously spit out the lyrics, Dan was doubled over on the couch. When he could catch his breath, he said,

“When I was listening to this song as a 12 year old boy, I never would have guessed that some day my 38 year old Chinese wife would be singing it back to me.”

You can imagined my relief when the books finally arrived. I cracked open How to Rap. The first three chapters were mostly background and quotes from famous rappers. I needed the how-to, the nitty gritties, not inspiration at this point. Finally in chapter four titled Flow, we started getting down to business. Apparently, most rap consists of a repeating loop of 4 beats. 1-2-3-4, 1-2-3-4. In each beat, you might be able to get one or a few words out, depending on how many syllables the words have. The reason I was having so much trouble sounding like I was rapping, rather than just reading something very fast, was that I wasn’t emphasizing the right beat. You are supposed to emphasize the syllable that falls onto each beat. This is probably old news for most of you but I never figured this out on my own. After I finished that chapter, I figured I’d go back and try to do the sing along again, but to make it easier on myself, I will first mark the syllables that are been stressed.

I picked a much slower song, Gangsta’s Paradise by Coolio. I paused the music after each line and marked the stress syllables. I also arranged the line breaks so that it goes four beats per line. For example, here is the first verse of the song:

As I
walk through the valley of the shadow of death I take a
look at my life and realize there’s nothin’ left Cause
I‘ve been blasting and laughing so long, That
even my mama thinks that my mind is gone But I ain’t
never crossed a man that didn’t deserve it. Me be
treated like a punk you know that’s unheard of. You
better watch how you’re talking and where you’re walking. Or
you and your homies might be lined in chalk. I
really hate to trip but I gotta loc. As they croak, I
see myself in the pistol smoke, fool I’m the
kinda G the little homies wanna be like. On my
knees in the night saying prayers in the streetlight

After about 2 hours of reading and 2 hours of dissecting this song and a couple of run throughs, here is where I’m at.

As bad as this is, it’s miles better than the first time I tried to sing Big Daddy Kane’s song. I aim to do 3 more 2-hour study sessions and get ready for prime time. It’s going to be ugly…

BTW, here is a quick update on the September dare, which was to write a book.  Well, I had dared myself to do that one because there was a month with no dares, I figured I as well put in something I was going to do anyways.  My original plan was to bang out the first draft of a book named How Do You Know It’s Time to Quit Your Job.  Long story short, I’m now working on a free online course on career design instead, ETA is next May.  I will put up a link when that’s done.

Maiden Voyage

Our portuguese dinghy is finally complete!  Here is the footage from the maiden voyage.

Some shout-outs:

• The music is original score by Dan.
• Thanks Andrew for letting us borrow the drill and the saw!
• Thanks Mrs. Polk for the paddle (not oar, as she corrected me)!

Links to related posts:

• Part 1: Moby Dick

Unhinged Melody

This month’s dare is to sing at a street corner and have people pay me to stop singing. Yes, I’m that bad. Whenever I so much as hum a tune, those around would beg me to stop. I’m routinely told that I’m the worst singer in the world. I remember once as a kid, my Dad caught me belting out a pop song in the yard. He was so tickled by my horrible howling that it’s become one of those family lore that gets retold every holiday season. Over the years, I have somehow grown attached to that identity and started taking pride in my utter lack of ability to sing. This month’s challenge is a perfect way to leverage that self delusion.

How to execute this one, hmm…  I thought I could stand near a busy street in my neighborhood and hold a sign. But then I realized that there is fatal flaw to that scheme. People are likely to pass me by with some curious looks and then hurry away without stopping to donate. Alternatively, I could go to downtown Boston and try to rustle up a crowd, street-performer style. But, that’s also hard because I doubt that I would be entertaining enough to draw an audience. What to do, what to do. Well, what I need is a captive audience, one that is held in place, unable to escape from my caterwaul. The Department of Motor Vehicles waiting area would be perfect if it weren’t for the fact that I might get arrested for public disturbance.

I’ve been mulling over the venue in the background for the past week. Then, last Thursday, I went to Shakespeare On the Common and saw the perfect opportunity. The Commonwealth Shakespeare Company is performing Twelfth Night on the Boston Common. It’s a free outdoor performance that draws a crowd of several hundred every night. The show starts at 8pm but people camp out there several hours in advance in order to stake out prime location on the lawn. Besides the fact that they are captive, this audience also has the advantage of being a relaxed crowd out to have some fun. If any audience can be receptive to some shenanigans, this would be it.

When it comes to the actual songs to sing. I considered the fact that the Shakespeare crowd mainly ranges from 30s to 60s in age so I figured I should cater to what this audience is familiar with. Here is the playlist I put on my iPod:

• Unchained Melody (the Movie Ghost’s theme song)
• I still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For (U2)
• Nothing Compares to You (Sinead O’Connor)
• Wish you Were Here (Pink Floyd)
• Sweet Child O’ Mine (Guns N’ Roses)

My friend Cecelia volunteered to be the videographer. It was a beautiful Saturday evening. I have to say that I’d been feeling unsettled and on the edge all day. I haven’t sang to an audience since I was in kindergarten! My bravado about my terrible singing aside, I had no idea how my “performance” would be received. What if people boo me? Worst yet, what if they ignore me altogether? I have to say, it’s not easy to walk up in front of several hundred people and make a complete fool of your self.

We arrived at the park around 7pm, an hour before show time. I was horrified to find that there was a classical music performance going on. What?!? Apparently, on weekends there is a orchestra for pre-show entertainment. I was crushed. After all the build up, I was so nervous that I was dying to get it over with. This is the last weekend of the performance for the season, and the prospect of having to find another venue was too much to bear.

I sat fuming, not knowing what to do.  Then, in about ten minutes or so, to my surprise and amazement, they wrapped up. Damn! Be careful what you wish for because I had no excuse now to delay the inevitable.

Cecelia was all ready to go with the filming. We first stepped aside and practiced once what I was going to say to the audience. Then, I paced back and forth a little in order to get myself psyched up and calmed down enough to get on with the show. Whenever Cecelia asked me, are you ready to go? I would say, give me a few more minutes. I would pace around some more while inhaling deeply. Time ticked away. Next thing you know, it was 7:30pm. It was now or never. I gritted my teeth. Let’s get it on!

We walk to the front center of the seating area, in the focal point of an audience of several hundred. To be fair, only people sitting within earshot would get to enjoy my howling since I don’t have a microphone nor an amplifier. I did bring along a small wireless speaker, plugged my iPod into it and I’m ready to go.

My goal was to raise $50 for the American Cancer Society. To make it easier, I got the text-to-donate number from their website. Each text message of “HOPE” to 20222 makes a $5 donation. That way, people wouldn’t have to hand me cash. I mean, I’m just some random person, why would they trust me not to pocket it?   I figured I’d shoot for getting 10 people to text and donate.

I was a nervous wreck. You can’t see from the video but my hand was shaking when I went to turn the music on. Are you ready? Without further ado…

Some cool people in the front row were very supportive. They even held up my signs unprompted, for which I will be forever grateful. The audience’s reaction was better than I could have hoped for. I even got some laughs. In the end, I only sang one and half songs before the event staff politely asked me to move on. Hey, sometimes it’s better to ask for forgiveness than permission. I figured I won’t get into too much trouble if it’s for charity.

In those five short minutes, I was able to raise a total of $35! I couldn’t have asked for a nicer and more supportive audience.

Sometimes in life, when you really want something, you’ve just gotta feel the fear and do it anyway.   Sure, I’ve had my share of rejections and things not panning out, but then at least I know, rather than always wondering what if. When I put myself out there, I feel so alive. That, in and of itself, is a reward, regardless of the outcome. And when people do respond in kind, when that happens, it’s allllll sooooo worth it.

So, what are you waiting for?

Edit: I just reached my $50 goal!  Some friends just read this and texted the number 3 times.  Thanks Jeffrey et al! 

Surströmming — Rotten Fish from Hell

I’m in Stockholm, Sweden, visiting two old friends Chris and Liana. We were housemates in grad school. Dan and I ended up getting married and the two of them got married. Some called our house the love palace.

My challenge ended up being eating Surströmming, a Swedish delicacy. If you look up “Surströmming” on Wikipedia, this is what you will find.

Surströmming (pronounced [sʉ̌ːrstrœmːɪŋ], Swedish for “soured herring”), is fermented Baltic sea herring and is a staple of traditional northern Swedish cuisine since at least the 16th century. Just enough salt is used to prevent the raw fish from rotting (chemical decomposition). A fermentation process (which converts sugar to acids, gases and alcohol) of at least six months gives the lightly-salted fish its characteristic strong smell and somewhat acidulous taste.

When opened, the contents release a strong and sometimes overwhelming odour; the dish is ordinarily eaten outdoors. According to a Japanese study, a newly opened can of surströmming has one of the most putrid food smells in the world, even more so than similarly fermented fish dishes such as the Korean Hongeohoe or Japanese Kusaya.

In 1981, a German landlord evicted a tenant without notice after the tenant spread surströmming brine in the apartment building’s staircase. When the landlord was taken to court, the court ruled that the termination was justified when the landlord’s party demonstrated their case by opening a can inside the courtroom. The court concluded that it “had convinced itself that the disgusting smell of the fish brine far exceeded the degree that fellow-tenants in the building could be expected to tolerate.”

With that in mind, this is what I was able to do.

 

Yeah, I choked down two entire fishes. That’s more than this macho guy was able to do. To fully appreciate what I had gone through, check out this his video.

Moby Dick

The June Challenge is to make a boat. The idea actually came about last summer when Dan and I took our kid on a canoe trip on the Charles River. We had to rent a canoe. Dan, being on an extreme frugality kick, proposed that we make our own boat next summer. I mean, how hard could it be? Wood wants to float, right?

Upon hearing our plans, our friends Drew and Magdalene suggested that we check out this amazing website with detailed theory and instructions on boat making. Some of the boats can be made with just one sheet of 4’x8′ ply wood! I opted for the Portuguese Style Dinghy, a one-and-half sheet boat that actually looks like a boat as opposed to a box. Here is how it’s turning out so far.

Dan was able to bend the two sheets of wood that made up the sides of the boat with his thunder thighs but the 1-inch screws we used somehow weren’t strong enough to hold the boards in place. About ten minutes later, the two side pieces popped open in the most dramatic of fashion. Fortunately, no one was hurt. Unfortunately, the camera had run out of battery so we didn’t capture the scene on video. Suffice to say there is still a lot of work to be done in order for that “boat” to float, with me inside. We are a bit behind schedule, but no fear, it shall be done!

BTW, I just arrived in Stockholm, Sweden today for my July Dare. Well, I’m visiting some friends here and they have challenged me to eat some kind of mystery food. It’s going down tomorrow. Wish me luck…

Links to related posts:

• Part 2: Maiden Voyage

Gifts from the Road

Since I got back from the walk, a number of people have asked me what I got out of the experience, and whether I was bored or lonely.  I thought I’d summarize my reflections here.

Before I begin though, I want to share that I did receive this gift from the road, literally.  I spotted it on the side walk in Waltham.  My five-year-old is obsessed with these mini lego figures.  He sleeps with three of them next to his pillow every night.  Not only was this the perfect gift for him, it was also perfect for my circumstance — it was tiny and didn’t add any extra weight to my load.  After we cleaned it up, he attached a lego beard onto it and turned it into “Sensei Wu” — the leader of his lego army.

And now to the lessons.

Lesson #1  It’s harder to be bored when you are on your feet. 

In anticipation of the boredom I’d feel during this long solo walk, I loaded my iPod with podcasts and music.  Surprisingly, I wasn’t bored.  For one, I typically had something very immediate to focus on: How am I going to eat?  Where am I going to sleep?  What else can I throw out from my backpack to lighten the load?  Is there a better way to introduce myself?  Should I pop this blister?  The list goes on.  I would say I spent about a quarter of my mental energy on the logistics and maintenance of my little ecosystem. Another quarter of my time was spent reflecting on my experiences and whatever else that was on my mind.  The rest of the time, I just vegged.  I took in the landscape and the scents around me: the smells of grasses, wild flowers, damp ground, mulch, pond scum, chicken coops…

I remember on the second day, I started listening to a podcast that I’d been looking forward to — an interview with Marc Andreessen, venture capitalist and founder of Netscape, talking about venture investing and how technology will change education, the health care system and other major aspects of society.  While I enjoyed it a lot, the intellectual nature of it felt a little jarring in contrast to the sensory-focused primitive life I was immersed in.  I found myself wanting to take a break from the intellectual world.  I unplugged on the third and fourth day just to fully enjoy my restful and blank mind.  Well, part of it was by necessity — I was doing so much traffic dodging that I didn’t want to risk getting smushed by a semi because I was listening to Freakonomics Radio.

It was a few days without worldly responsibilities.  Life felt refreshingly simple.  It had a great rhythm of walk, forage, walk, forage, walk, walk, find sleeping quarters and conk out.  I think I would have been bored more if I were sitting down. Regarding boredom, I found that having nothing to do is not the bad part, it’s the meh feeling associated with having nothing to do that makes it unpleasant. When I was on my feet and moving around constantly, I didn’t feel restless.  When my mind was empty, it was a restful, meditative and enjoyable experience.  So next time you are bored, go for a walk :).

Lesson #2  It requires virtually no money to have an amazing experience, but it does require energy.

I hope the first part is evident from my last few blog posts :).

The harder part is having the energy to undertake the project.  Back in the day when I was working at a grueling job that required weekly commute from Boston to NYC, just thinking about this project would have made me tired.  This trip took preparation and planning, and that required energy, but that’s not even the half of it.  It took a lot of reflection to figure out what it is I wanted and then design and commit to the Care Dares project.  While walking 100 miles may not be your ideal adventure, I bet you have your own version that’s waiting to be discovered and embarked on.

If you have a few days to take on a personal adventure but don’t have the time or energy to figure out what it would be,  just give me a call!  I’d be happy to brainstorm with you.  If I don’t know you, feel free to send me an email at ann.caredares@gmail.com   There is nothing I love more than designing fun and enriching experiences.

Lesson #3  Relish the experience when things get dark — it’s part of the adventure.

On the evening of the third day, when the temperature suddenly dropped and I was stuck in the cold rain, I started to feel a little desperate because night was approaching and I had nowhere to sleep.  I couldn’t camp out in backyards with all that rain (I don’t have a tent, just a mosquito net).  Accompanying that realization was a constriction, a dark and foreboding feeling that mirrored the weather outside.  I remember texting Dan about my situation.  He texted back “Oh well, trip was too easy up till now anyway :)”  And you know what, he was right.  I’m here willingly on an adventure after all.  If things came too easily, it wouldn’t make for a very good adventure.  The bind I found myself in suddenly was there for me instead of against me.  Immediately, my mood lifted.  Rather than the constricted feeling, I felt more relaxed and my mind expanded. This was just something to be handled.  In that frame of mind, I quickly sized up my situation and came up with a solution – holding up a sign in front of a supermarket asking people for a place to stay.  And, I did it with good cheer.

This reminds me of a similar situation Dan had gone through.  A few years ago, Dan went on a biking/camping trip with a couple of friends.  When he came back, he said the trip was miserable.  It rained.  They were drenched and starving.  It took over an hour to get a fire going and to top it off, one of them got a flat tire on the ride back.  He was just so happy to be home.  Yet, as the years passed, he would look back on that trip as a fun adventure and recall the trials and tribulations with fondness.  Well, if that would be the case later, then why not enjoy the experience and appreciate it while it is happening?

I realized something very important for me on this trip — I aspire to be that person who holds on to a light and adventurous attitude no matter what’s happening in life, who refuses to succumb to defensiveness, negativity, and fear.  Moreover, when I’m thrown into a tough situation as part of a group, I want to not only maintain that attitude for myself, but to help bring it about in the group.  Facing hardship as a group, if done right, can build life-long bonds.  I certainly don’t want to miss out on those opportunities.

Lesson #4  If you do what others around you do, then you will generally get the life they have.  If you want to have an awesome life, then you better be willing to do things that others are not. 

It takes time and experience to experiment and figure out what you want.  Then once you have a few of those things figured out, then it’s time to do them and make them happen!  I’m not talking about big things like quitting your job (just yet).  Start small and the momentum will develop.  Back a few months ago on Easter Sunday, Dan and I took our five-year-old to an Easter egg hunt.  Well, it was more of an Easter egg grab.  There were about two hundred kids rearing to go on a grassy hill. Ten minutes before the hunt, the organizers started to empty out large trash bags full of Easter eggs onto the lawn.  Parents and kids had to stay behind the yellow tape for the time being.  The eggs were all clustered in big piles.  The organizers were starting to scatter them more evenly across the lawn.  I thought it looked fun and wanted to run out there and help. Normally, it would have stayed an unspoken urge.  But because I was in Care Dares mode, I went for it.  As I tossed pastel-colored eggs hither and thither, I saw my five-year-old smiling at me.  It was a small thing but it contributed to making my day awesome and by that same token, my life awesome.

This month, I will be building a boat.  I shuffled things around a bit because rather than doing it in August, I will (hopefully) have the boat for the rest of the summer to enjoy.

Links to Related posts:

• Part 1: Enough Talk, Time to Walk
• Part 2: Day One is in the Books
• Part 3: Drinks Anyone?
• Part 4: Joyful Connections on the Road
• Part 5: Cold Rain and Ants on my Face
• Part 6: Homecoming
• Part 7: This Post

Homecoming

Day 4.  I got up around 6 a.m. feeling refreshed after a good night sleep on a real bed.  Dori made me poached eggs on toast, yum yum.  She had also laundered the clothes I was wearing (I know, the royal treatment) so I had on something fresh. I needed this because I had ditched my change of clothes on the morning of the second day when I did a re-org to lighten the load.  I had also left behind the Clearasil, the makeup, the pack of gum (I took 2 pieces), the 3 cough drops (popped one as a snack).  Yes, I said no bringing any food, but I thought that was an acceptable cheat :).  I also left behind my Nalgene water bottle and opted to keep the lighter weight empty spring water bottle for fill ups instead. This shaved off about 12 oz.

I set out from Dori’s house at 7 a.m.  It was a cold and overcast morning with temperature in the 40s.  Oh, I also need to mention that I was 7 miles further along on my walk than the supermarket where Dori had picked me up from.  I thought about going all stickler about it and somehow return to the Big Y where I was picked up.  But in the end, I decided it was an act of fate.  She could have easily lived in the other direction and made the walk longer.  I accepted my good fortune as a gift.

From West Brookfield, I headed to Ware on Route 9, about 7 miles away.  A few miles into my journey, I realized I was in for a treat.  Route 9 is a major throughway.  The road had narrowed to one lane on each side going through some mountainous terrain.  The shoulders on either side were about a foot and a half wide.  This normally wouldn’t have been a problem, as I could dodge the cars by hopping on the grass when they get close.  But in the hilly terrain, frequently there are metal guard rails along the side which give me nowhere to go.  What makes it extra hard is that there is a decent amount of traffic on the road careening at 45 to 55 miles an hour.  When there is a string of cars coming, the car behind the first one has a hidden view and the driver has a short response time after they see me.  On top of that, the road was very windy.  Every left turn creates a blind spot for the on-coming traffic (I walk against traffic on the left side of the road). 

I have to admit that I didn’t like the situation I was in.  This is the first time on my trip when I felt I was in actual danger.  Sure, sleeping outdoors and knocking on stranger’s doors felt scary but I was still in control to a large degree.  This, on the other hand, was a different story.  The cars zooming by me seemed like unfeeling instruments of death.  This is when I realized that I would much rather place my bets with human nature than driving skills.  During the next hour, I paid careful attention and switched sides before blind turns and carefully managed my risk.

Then, I came across this stretch that just seemed impossible.  The road was taking a sharp left turn downhill.  The left side of the road was delineated by a steep hill going straight up and the right side was lined by a guard rail.  The shoulders on either side were all but non-existent.  I was forced to choose between a rock and a hard place.  I stood in place and considered my options.  I thought about turning back, but I was over halfway to Ware, and going back now would mean facing an equal amount of car dodging if not more.  I thought about it a little more and came up with a plan.  I waited until I couldn’t hear any traffic coming from either side and did a mad dash down the hill.  Even though the distance couldn’t have been more than the length of a football field, it felt like an eternity.

After another fifteen minutes or so of playing Frogger with traffic, an SUV pulled up next to me. Sitting in the car was a woman in her, oh, later thirties.  She rolled down her window and asked me if I needed a ride.  She was wearing a nurse’s uniform (Dori had been a nurse too.  Ah, the life saving profession).  That’s all the confirmation I needed before I dove in her car.

Her name was Denise.  She said that she saw me walking along the road dodging cars and just had to turn around and ask.  I was extremely grateful.  I know I was supposed to walk the 100 miles.  In fact, I had refused numerous offers for rides along the way, many came when it was raining outside.  I guess people felt sorry for me.  I would thank them and wave them on their way.  But this one was different.  I wanted to come home in one piece rather than stick to technicalities and pay for it with my life.

Two miles down the road, we were at the town of Ware.  Denise told me the road from there would be much better and I was relieved to hear that.  We sat and chatted a little longer.  I told her about my challenge and gave her one of my cards.  She was mother goose and didn’t want to let me go.  She told me to call her tonight from wherever I ended up and she would come pick me up and take me back to her house and drop me off where I was the next morning. I was amazed at the length she would go through for a complete stranger she’d just met. She made me promise that I would call if I needed help before she let me go.

I was on my way again and indeed, the road eased up. An hour later, someone in an SUV stopped on the other side of the road and called out my name. I was confused when I didn’t recognize the man driving. A second later, Denise bounded out the passenger side door. She ran across the road with a bag of food. She said she didn’t realize that I was doing this with no money and no food either and wanted to make sure I wasn’t starving. I was speechless. She tried to give me money too but I was able to push it away. I gave her another big hug, waved goodbye to her and her family and pressed on, feeling all warm and fuzzy.

I made good time and next thing you know I was near the Quabbin Reservoir. For those of you who don’t know, that’s where all the drinking water of Boston comes from. I veered off of Route 9 onto Winsor Dam Road which connected to Blue Meadow. Together they run next to the Reservoir parallel to Route 9. It didn’t add any extra miles to the journey and provided breathtaking views.

Three quarter ways in, I came along a dead end. What the?? I consulted the GPS, indeed, Blue Meadow Rd connects back to Route 9 on the map. But that doesn’t change the reality of the fact that I’m staring into the woods. There was a ranger station near by. I waved down the man coming out of the truck in uniform and asked about the road. He laughed and said, “Oh, that road hasn’t been open since the 90’s. And oh, BTW, you are not even supposed to be here.” Security around the Quabbin has been tight ever since 9-11. I explained to him my situation and was just about resigned to go back when he told me that well, you can go through the woods for a quarter of a mile and the road will pick back up on the other side. What?? Really?? He said considering I’m doing this for charity and all, he will make an exception.

Before I took off, he warned me to check for ticks on the other side. Apparently, the woods at Quabbin is full of them. He said there is no sense contracting Lyme Disease. I definitely took it to heart. A friend of mine had contracted it while mountain biking and he had to lay in bed for a whole year.   Rather than the Tom’s I was wearing, I put my hiking boots back on even though they hurt my feet. I figured a little pain is worth the extra protection they gave. I strapped my backpack on tight and ran through that quarter mile of tall grass in record speed.

I arrived in Belchertown at 2 p.m. After consulting my GPS, I realized Northampton is just 14 miles away. I had been walking straight through since 7am and gotten here quicker than I thought.   I had done 16 Miles today already (not counting the 2 with Denise). I had been averaging 20 miles a day before this, but that’s with a full pack. Now that the end was in sight, I felt homesick. I just wanted to get back to my family. I decided to go all out and push to the finish. Little did I know then that the 14 miles will turn out to be 17 miles instead.

For the last push, I went for it Ernest Shackleton style. He is an Antarctic Explorer famous for his minimalist packing in favor of speed over preparation. I put my cell phone, driver’s license, and blister tape in my pocket and ditched my backpack at the Belchertown McDonalds. After explaining what I’m doing, Julie, the manager was rooting for me to finish too

My plan was to go up Route 9 and cut left onto Bay Road which should take me all the way into Northampton. After an hour’s walk and finally getting to Bay Road, I changed my mind. It was narrow and windy and I didn’t want a repeat of my harrowing experience on Route 9 earlier. I decided to push further north and pick up the rail trail/bike path instead which, even though will add another 4 miles, will take me to Northampton in a traffic free manner. Plus, if the walk ends up taking longer, I don’t want to be stuck on the road walking in the dark.

I walked, walked, and walked on the interminable bike path. It was monotonous and never ending. The day was cold and overcast. There was virtually no traffic on it. For the first four miles, I only spotted a single biker on the path. I was thankful to at least be out of the traffic for once. I got another blister at some point, congratulated myself in bringing along the tape, taped it up and continued on my way. I was single mindedly determined to finish tonight and the walk took on a feverish military quality. I felt an urgency I couldn’t explain.

After three hours of walking, I was entering Amherst and suddenly saw this sign dead in my track. You must be kidding me!

I was beside myself. But I relaxed. No matter, I climbed north some more up to Route 9. Oh, my favorite highway of death, how I love thee. Even though I’ve always sneered at the un-aesthetic nature of the road back when I lived in Amherst – two lane highway with strip malls on either side. Now I see it with a fresh set of eyes. With the generous five-foot shoulders on either side, it seemed like a welcome home.   I walked with a big grin on my face. I must have seemed like a lunatic to the cars zooming by.

The home stretch from Amherst to Northampton did seem interminable. When I finally got into downtown Northampton at 8 p.m., I was exhausted and elated. My friend Andy came to pick me up and I posed for posterity. Waiting for me was a hot meal (thank you Pam), dinner with old friends, a hot shower, and a nice bed. Dan and my five-year-old are driving up tomorrow to get me.   Ah… the good life!

Links to Related posts:

• Part 1: Enough Talk, Time to Walk
• Part 2: Day One is in the Books
• Part 3: Drinks Anyone?
• Part 4: Joyful Connections on the Road
• Part 5: Cold Rain and Ants on my Face
• Part 6: This Post
• Part 7: Gifts from the Road

Alive and Well

In case you are worried.  Will write more soon!

Cold Rain and Ants on My Face

My second night on the road turned out not so restful after all.  Laying in my mosquito net, I was pretty nervous as night fell.  Being out in the open, not even in a tent, I felt exposed.  What if a person or animal snuck up on me?  The good part about the net is the visibility.  I could see all around me.  My ears were picking up the smallest sounds that sounded at all anomalous.  There was a tree stump near me, and in the dark it looked like a person.  I startled when I opened my eyes every time.  It wasn’t until the tenth time or so that I started to get desensitized to the tree-stump man.

It was well past 1 a.m. before I finally fell asleep.  Soon I was awakened by something crawling on my face.  I woke up and shrieked like a little girl.  After I switched on my flashlight, I saw big black ants everywhere.  See, when I was in the police station, the officer had offered me a donut.  I had put it into a ziplock bag and thought I’d save it for breakfast tomorrow.  I had inadvertantly committed the cardinal sin of camping — food in the tent.  I was just glad it was only ants it attracted.  I grabbed the bag, ran out and hurled it into the woods as far as I could.  (Sorry, Rick.)

The next morning, day three, I got up at 6 a.m. and quickly got on the road.  The forecast was for rain all afternoon and evening.  My route was West Boylston to Holden to Paxton to Spencer.  About 18 miles total.  I’ve been averaging around 20 miles a day, and from a physical perspective, this was the toughest day yet.  The roads were super hilly.  Remember, I had retired my hiking shoes and have been wearing my Tom’s.  They don’t have good traction or shock absorption.  I got a blister on my left pinky toe.  After struggling along with it for an hour, I finally sat down on a rock and popped it.  Eeew!  And taped it up.  It felt a little better afterwards but now the pain is always there with every step I take.

The promised afternoon rain didn’t come until 5 p.m., but accompanying that was a severe temperature drop, from the 70s to the 50s.  It was really cold.  I heard talks of tornado warnings at the New Hampshire border.  Tonight, the temperature was dropping to the low 40s.  That plus the rain — not an ideal day for back yard camping.  I needed to somehow get indoors.

I could try going door to door in the cold rain.  But that approach is problematic in a few ways.  One, the nearest cluster of houses was a ways away.  Two, I would get completely soaked and who knows how long I would be out there for.  Three, it’s simply too much pressure to show up drenched at someone’s front door asking to spend the night inside.  It felt too coercive.

I saw that there was a Big Y grocery store nearby and quickly sprung to action.

I camped out at the entrance of the supermarket holding a sign that read “Walking 100 miles for charity. Need a couch to crash on”. Most people ignored me.  Some expressed sympathy and regrets.  I was out there for a total of half an hour before I met Dori, though it felt longer than that.  Dori is a nice-looking lady in her late forties.  She wanted to help me and take me in but was justifiably hesitant at the same time.

For the next ten minutes, we danced around one another to ensure we are who we say we are and are safe.  She called her husband and let him know she might be bringing someone home.  Her hesitations and gradual letting go of guard made me feel she is a good-hearted person.  Finally, I told her she can call up the West Boylston police department to check up on me.  That sealed the deal for her.

Next thing you know, we were eating pasta in her house.  On the drive to her place, she said “I’m a trusting soul.  If you end up stabbing me to death, then so be it, because I can die knowing I was trying to do the right thing.”  She said she wanted to get me home before someone with ill intentions does.

I was very touched.

Links to Related posts:

• Part 1: Enough Talk, Time to Walk
• Part 2: Day One is in the Books
• Part 3: Drinks Anyone?
• Part 4: Joyful Connections on the Road
• Part 5: This Post
• Part 6: Homecoming
• Part 7: Gifts from the Road