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More Famous Turds I have Known.......















In the comments to the post below regarding "Proper Tools", Clint, one of my coworkers, mentioned how a Turd can stop a Heart Attack and save a life.

Strange as that sounds, it is true. We both were there for the "Cardiac Turd miracle".

Maybe 20% of the people we see in the ER truly have what could be described as an "Emergency". That would be defined as "A condition, that if not attended to immediately, could lead to a loss of life, limb or sight." Most of what we see are routine medical problems and minor injuries.

It doesn't take long to recognize someone who really does have something going on though. We in the ER say, "They look bad or They have THE LOOK" and that's enough to jump start the nurses and docs into action.

The "Cardiac Turd miracle" began with a call from EMS, telling us they were bringing a older man (Late 60's) who was having chest pain, shortness of breath (SOB), diaphoresis (Clammy/sweaty) and ST elevation on his cardiac monitor strip.

The strip looks something like this -

To ER folks, this is NOT a good thing. This is what a heart attack looks like on paper. Mr. miracle Turd's EKG looked worse than this example. The staff was all over this guy in a big hurry, trying to get things rolling. I was trying to start an IV line in his left arm, Clint was trying on his right. We could see his rhythm strip on the monitor and it appeared to be getting worse by the minute. Not a good thing. He definitely looked bad and was exhibiting other bad signs, like Profuse sweating and extreme agitation.

He hadn't been there 5 minutes and we were still working on the preliminary things when he starts hollering "I gotta shit".

Well, priorities being what they were in this case, we all told him to go ahead an shit the bed, 'cause he wasn't going to go off to the restroom anytime soon.

He wasn't having any of that and continued to holler "I gotta shit" repeatedly. In situations like that you just have to keep working and do what needs to be done. Clint and I both got an IV started and labs were drawn to see how bad his cardiac enzymes were gonna look.

All of a sudden he stopped hollering and sat bolt upright. I thought to myself, "Shit, there he goes" and prepared to defibrilate him if necessary. I was not feeling good about this guys overall outcome and was fairly sure he was gonna die on us.

Wrong. He sat up and started crapping. And crapping. And crapping. I'm talking incredible amounts here, people. I thought we were gonna need one of those guys who follows the elephants around at the circus to come help clean up the mess.

And then "THE MIRACLE" occurred. The more he shit, the more his EGK began to return to normal. He quit sweating and dried up. His color started returning to normal and his agitation level decreased too. In less than 10 minutes, he was completely pain free and said he felt fine. His EKG had returned to almost normal.

We did our workup and did all the good cardiac things we do and shipped him off to a facility that was better suited to treat him further.

About 10 lbs lighter than when he came in.

The Proper Tool for the Job..........

Working as an RN, one of the things that you cannot fail to notice is - Some people are capable of passing Humongous Turds. I'm not talking about your basic log here. I mean absolutely huge Turds. Turds so large, that they should probably be given a proper, Christian Name.

Turds so large, that, anatomically speaking, should not be possible. My introduction to the World of Turds began in a different environment though.

Many years ago I took a part time position as a Maintenance Man at a local nursing home to supplement the household income. Pretty basic stuff. Cut grass, general fix-it, mop and wax floors. That kinda thing. The boss, Terry, was a real big dude. Well over six feet and well over 300lbs. He was a pretty good guy to work for and usually started each morning off with a cup of coffee and a reefer out behind the equipment shed. At the time, that was a good thing.

One morning, not long after I started working there, Terry gets a call about a toilet that's stopped up. He makes a note of the location and gives me the wave to follow him.

Instead of going in the direction of the non-functioning toilet, we headed out to the equipment shed. Being the observant guy, I asked him where we're heading and he answers, "You gotta have the proper tools, sometimes". He then walked right through the shed, past all the tools and out the back and immediately fired up a joint.

Not normal behavior. He didn't say much, so I just shut up and got stoned with him and waited to see what was going on.

Finally, he walked back into the shed and went over to the far corner and pointed out a machete hanging on the wall and said, "Grab it and follow me". So, armed with this rusty old machete I followed him back into the main building.

He still hadn't told me where we were going or what the hell I was doing with the machete. But I followed along trying not to scare anyone. He finally stopped outside of the room that had made the complaint of toilet trouble. He turned and looked at me and said "Today you find out if you really want to work here". He then opened the door and went in.

Into the bathroom we went. As luck would have it, the toilet hadn't overflowed all over as I had feared. Terry did not seem surprised by this. Apparently, knowing your shit is what get's you being the boss.

What did surprise me was the unbelievably huge Turd in that stool. This masterpiece must have taken weeks to be created. Two and a half feet long, if it was an inch and as big around as a soup bowl. I was dumbfounded. I just stood there and stared, repeating to myself, "No way. Nobody could do that and live".

Terry, bless 'em, just pointed at the Turd and then to the machete and said "Start cutting, Bubba. Ill flush". So that's what I did. Chop, chop, chop, Flush. Chop, chop, chop, Flush. For what seemed like hours.

It was such a surreal situation, two adult men in a little bitty bathroom, doing battle with a Monster Turd. I started giggling. Then laughing. Terry started laughing. The laughter punctuated by the Tink, Tink, Tink of the machete against the porcelain of the toilet, followed by the flush. Over and over. Tink, Tink, Tink, Whoosh. Tink, Tink, Tink, Whoosh.

We finally chopped that big bastard up and flushed the last of it away. We exited past the little old lady, who looked to be in discomfort and whose eyes were still watering, and heading back out to the shed.

"Hose it off and meet me out back" is all he said. Terry then gave me a dissertation on "Proper Tools for the job" while smoking another joint. I was telling him a machete was not usually considered a plumbing tool, when he held up his hand and stopped me.

He said, "How the hell would you know? You can't even pronounce it right." I asked what the hell he was talking about and he said -

"It's not machete. It's Ma-Shit-tay. Ma-shit-tay, dammit". "You still don't know shit about tools, Bubba".

I learned a lot from Terry.

I had planned to do the Tahoe 72-mile Ultra this last Saturday, but wasn't able to completely shake my cold from the week before. My symptoms were all above the neck and I have been running short distances all week, but I feared an all-night run could drop that virus right into my lungs and take me out for a month (a move dumb enough for a Darwin Award, I'm sure). After conferring with my crew, we decided it was best to do this ultra another year.

The gorgeous Lake Tahoe weather beckoned me to at least race another distance, and there were plenty to choose from. This was "Lake Tahoe Marathon Week", featuring a wide range of events such as kayaking, distance swimming, cycling, design-your-own triathlons, extreme golf, runs from 5k's to ultras, relays, the Tahoe Triple (3 marathons in three days), and even the XTerra National Championships. No surprise that everyone was in town for the fun! I opted for the 11th running of the Lake Tahoe Marathon, which ran from Tahoe City to South Shore down the west side of the lake.


The Tahoe 72-mile Ultra had started at midnight, and by the time I got to the marathon start at 7:15am, Sean Messiner had already gone by, leading the ultra by about 1.5 miles (quick math on his pace - that was 46 miles in 6 hours and 45 minutes - whoa!). As we warmed up, Pam Reed, Sam Thompson, and a few others came by and started down the last 26.2 miles of their all night runs. About 400 had signed up for the marathon, and we all gathered ourselves on Commons Beach in Tahoe City to kick off the start. The elite women led off the pack at 8am (30 minutes ahead of the men, with an extra $500 bonus if they crossed the finish line first), just as the sun warmed the temperature to the optimal high-50's. We cheered on Chris, the sole crank chair participant, a few moments later.


Tahoe Triple racers were facing the last of three marathons in three days, and most of them looked really good as they stretched out on the grass. They recounted similar stories about the races so far - the first marathon had the biggest hills, the second marathon had the challenge of getting up the day after a marathon, and the last day was "let's just get through this". All of them were clearing having a good time.


As the gun went off for the 8:30am start, a pack of six quickly went up front and set a blistering sub-6 minute pace. Considering we were at 5,400' feet and climbing, only elites such as Tony Torres, Johan Oosthuizen (leading the Triple with two sub-3 hour finishes already), and John Weru had a shot at keeping this pace and getting the $500 prize. I settled in around 15th or so, running about a 7 minute/mile pace. I figured I would make the most of the 9 miles of flat running, and slow down if my coughing became too much to bear.

I paced with Mike Miller (Sonora, CA), whom I had met at the AR50 earlier this year. He was running his 10th Lake Tahoe Marathon (only missing one of the 11 runnings to go to a family wedding), and had 10 "Top 25" t-shirts to prove it. In his races to date, he had six age group wins and finish times from 2:52 to 3:15, even finishing second overall one year. As we ran along the shoreline, he let me know what was ahead, and that at our pace I should be able to get a coveted "Top 25" shirt for myself. How cool would that be! But first things first - this cold bug was hanging on, so I didn't want risk getting more sick. Even if I couldn't go fast, I could enjoy the scenery along the way.

Mike and I cheered on each ultrarunner as we passed them, and began seeing a few of the 20-mile power walkers that had started earlier this morning. We stayed on pace as we alternated between the road (northbound traffic was blocked for the most part) and a bike path along a nine mile section of McKinney Bay. Locals came out to cheer us on, with more than a few brandishing their Halloween costumes. I ate a few Clif Blox every 30 minutes, and just had water at the aid stations. We hit our first section of hills at Sugar Pine Point, around mile 10.5.


The layout of the hills was perfect for warming up - slow rollers, than a small climb, then the two biggies at mile 15.8 and 18. The small climbs helped me survey my leg- and lung-readiness. We worked our way through the first set of hills and hit the halfway point in 1:30:11. We were certainly making good use of the flats!


As we tackled the first big "Hill from Hell" at Rubicon Bay, I started wheezing a bit and slowed down to a jog. Although it's just an 800' vertical foot climb, it's spread over 1.5 miles and climbs to a lung-pumping 6800' ft, which is enough to tame the "unacclimated" like me. Mike had no problem at all, and set off to hopefully win the Veteran's category (50+) and continue his streak. I slowly climbed my way up to the "heaven" aid station at the top, where hilarious volunteers danced to rock tunes and gave out water by the quart.


The reward for making the climb was the most breathtaking views on the course. Miles of Lake Tahoe were within sight. As we ran down around Emerald Bay, you could see the course winding ahead (uh-oh...looks like one more big climb). We got close enough to the water to see Fanette Island, complete with the stone Tea House.

I collected the mountain of shwag (wind jacket, medal, license plate frame, and Top 25 finisher t-shirt - SWEET!) and met up with the family to get some food and soak up the sun. It was very cool to have Roger (Christi's dad and my almost 72-miler crew), Christi ,and Sophie at the finish line. That's three generations of support! We drank beer (and formula) and watched as hundreds of smiling runners trickled across the finish line. It was a beautiful day to be running any distance, and I'm glad my cold didn't stop me from joining in on the fun.


My thanks to Les and all the volunteers of the Lake Tahoe Marathon that made this such a great experience. I'm looking forward to trying some other events next year, and hopefully be ready for the 72-miler!

- SD

[Note to bloggers - I'm linking to Flickr for my pics for this race write up, and have "geo tagged" them with Yahoo's new feature. Blogger does weird things to my photos, so I was already looking for a better alternative. My pal Paul Levine and his team are definitely on the right track!]

Thar She Blows !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It was spectacular. I was riding the BigBluePlasticKawasaki to work this morning. Nothing inusual about that.

I pulled out on the State highway and was heading to town and fell in behind 2 cars. There was a Buick going about 40 mph in a 55 mph zone and another car behind the Blue Haired Granny in the Buick.

As soon as I got to a good open stretch of road I signaled, honked and pulled out to pass. I'd downshifted and ran her up so I could get around them in a hurry as I don't like being out in the other lane any longer than I have to.

I was going probably 75 when I went past Blue Hair when ............. BOOM!!!

Holy Shit! A huge cloud of steam and antifreeze engulfed the bike. Shit, I blew a hose. Either off or a hose failure, I don't know yet. I'm sure the Blue Hair was not impressed.

Damn, There was a business with a big parking lot and 2 entrances a few hundred yards ahead so I chopped the throttle and hit the front brakes hard so I could zip in and back out and make a run for home.

I totally did not think about all that slippery ass antifreeze on the back tire. WHEEEEEEEE! I had already commited and the rear end slid out and I went sliding along with the handlebars to the locks like Dick Mann or Gary Nixon, into the parking lot. I just kept sliding around and out the other way and made the run back to the house.

Damn, I wish I'd have gotten the whole thing on tape. It had to have looked cool, and nobody's gonna believe I was TT'ing that big landwhale around so slick like that.

Could I have planned it like that? Hell no. I'm not crazy enough to even try and slide that big bike around like a flat tracker. It was just lucky as hell I didn't fall on my ass and get run run over by Blue Hair.

Looks like I'll have to figure out what the hell blew tomorrow. I didn't lose any oil, so that's a good sign. Just one more thing to keep me busy and not riding.

Could've been worse. I was only 3-4 miles from the house. It was daytime. It was sunny. I rode it home. I didn't crash.

See Gary Nixon looking all cool and sliding all over in the picture, there?

I did not look all cool like that. I'm sure of it. I Was sliding pretty much like that though. On pavement. But, unlike Gary Nixon there, my ass was puckered up so tight you couldn't have pulled a Banjo String through it with a Bulldozer. Warp factor 9, baby. All's well that ends well.