View Workout (Joe Uhan)
Alumni Day
September 7, 2013 (Afternoon)
Exercise Type: Other
Comments:
Slept in til around 8ish, and was on the road before 9. Had a great time at the cabin (CHERISH'd!), and it was awesome to spend time with Sam's family.
Had a nice drive from the North Shore of Lake Superior, down through Duluth, to Eau Claire. Took the scenic route NW of Duluth, where the Grandma's Marathon route runs. Tons of folks out biking. Reminisced about my first marathon there in '97 and how much of a clusterfuck it was.
Had I left earlier, I would've been able to make the alumni cross country race, racing with the current team members. But I didn't feel up to it; I've felt flat all week, leading me to believe that I'm still not sufficiently rested from Waldo, so these down days were welcome.
On the drive down, I was excited to see a bunch of old cc teammates. But I was also excited to hit up the town later that night and possibly brandish some news "skillz", as well as - once again - to bury some bad memories of years of frustration as an "average frustrated chump" that I was during my undergrad years.
But despite that excited, I felt nervous; impotent - in the non-physical sense of the word - just without confidence or edge. The combination of feeling "out of practice" the past few weeks, plus the recent (and recurrent) failures, most notably with Jill, made me feel like I'd totally lost it - like I was back to being awkward, ambivalent...impotent twenty-something me.
Rolled into EC around 1, and went to see my brother Will, first. He's a week into school at the alma mater, so I was excited to see him. It was hot as shit, but we still went for a "campus pick-up" jog around campus. After that, I cleaned up and headed to the alumni food/beer gathering.
It was good to see Billy; it brought up my enthusiasm and energy, so that when I got to the indoor/outdoor bar in Altoona, I was pumped. It was a rather light alumni presence for our standards - but that still meant a minimum of ten guys from my era (late 90s, early 2000s) that were there, with an equal number from the mid-late 00's to present - including a couple kids I coached in HS (and a transfer from UW-L who excelled at EC).
Had pleasant convos with Dan, a guy my age who's taken over a struggling, lost program and turned it into one of the best in the country over the past 5 years; Thomas, the UW-L transfer (and now grad), who's one of my favorite people, and a younger female alum who's almost done with PT school at UWL.
I had two beers in the beating sun plus humidity, and that - despite not running - was enough to feel buzzed. So my friend Kevo, who's local, and I - along with 3 other guys - went back to his house to settle in before heading downtown. While they were getting ready, I left early and snagged my magic elixir - a 20oz Kwik Trip coffee on the way.
Headed to Dooley's, an Irish pub in the "campus downtown" area of EC. Met my old assistant cc coach there before the rest of the fellas showed. Had a good dinner with several old boys - maybe ten of us, total. By then it was around 9, so we decided to walk down from the bar to the "cross country house".
EC has a rich tradition of cross-country themed houses: guys invariably live together, and as such, they put up running-specific décor. In the late-90s, we upped the ante and put up a wall of school record holders for track, as well as framed team pics, and random awesome memorabilia.
When we walked in the door...it was like I was back in 2001. Holy shit, all of our old stuff - the team pics, the murals and collages, and the record holder wall -- all there. Incredible! They kept all of it, all these years!
I don't think it was the plan to stay there, but suddenly a 30-pack of Hamm's showed up, and - even though it was seriously fucking 95 degrees in that house - we stayed. Several of the current team members - guys and gals - were there, and they were very welcoming. By 930 there must've been 30 people in this little house; not a rager party, just people hanging out, no music. There I schmoozed with some of the younger ladies (recent grad - in my "over 22" sweet spot range, apparently), showing off my Silver Buckle.
It was a blast, hanging out with the young guys, telling old stories. There's a banner up from a "decommissioning party" for the cc house I lived in, where we were busted by the cops for throwing a bike off the roof, into the street. They even had boxes of the old police reports from that party!
But the highlight was when one of the elder young generation guys started passing out lyric sheets to "KBD", the team theme song ,that's been around since the mid-80s. And for the first time in at least six years, I found myself in the basement with about twenty guys - currents and alums, alike - in a circle, pants around the ankles, jumping up and down to a rendition of Bruce Springsteen's Cover Me. It was phenomenal!
After that, it was hot as fuck upstairs and down, so it was time to leave. I headed out with Scotty, a guy from EC that I coached at UW-L, who used to assistant coach, himself, at EC. Great guy. He and I drove back to Water St to meet up with the fellas for a proper beer in the heart of the campus bar scene. We hung out outside The Joynt for a while, cooling off and talking. Scotty's now a high school coach (and soon-to-be-teacher) so we were discussing his experiences. Once the whole contingent showed up, we all headed into bar for pitchers.
EC, like most of the Wisconsin college towns, has a lot of SHITTY, sketchy bars that - despite their sketchiness - are awesome. While at The Joynt, one of the younger alums announced that he'd secured "The VIP Area" of "The Brat Cabin", this shitty bar two doors down, known for it's dank dance floor and the selling of whole bottles of Boon's Farm wine, that people guzzle straight from the bottle.
What is the VIP Area? It consists of a small, raised area containing two high-boy tables, a shitty couch, a 4-square foot coffee table, and a metal tub filled with Busch Lights. WOW. So, from midnight, on, that's where we were!
Initially, besides our group, the bar was quiet. But by around 1, things really picked up. So much of where people go, and when, is cultural. Like clockwork, people go from place to place, and the Brat Cabin is one of the places folks go to dance when they're sufficiently liquored.
While I was having a good time and chatting with a few ladies, I certainly wasn't going for it. It just felt like I didn't have any "material" -- good things to say or do, or the nerve to do it. And there weren't many great targets, but things began to improve as more and more folks filed in and the "fenced in" dance floor of the large bar was filling. I felt like I wanted to get out there, but I hadn't reached the tipping point yet.
Our friend Mike, an '03 alum, was working as a DJ at a wedding and finally got done at 1. He's super-energetic and happy to hang with us, so when he arrived, it was "on": me, him and Kevo, along with all the younger guys, were at least head-bobbin' on the dance floor!
I'd been out on the floor for maybe 15 minutes as a bachelorette party - dressed in like '80s prom theme - was there. But soon joining them was another small group, one of whom looked eerily familiar.
I did about a quad take: it was Carie Steil.
Holy. Shit.
Carie is maybe my number one all-time shame story. I think I've told BGD about this. Carie was a high school runner at another school (in Eau Claire, coincidently) when I was coaching at Menomonie, 20 miles down the road. As stated before, our programs were all very friendly and, me being boundary-less, began chatting with her on msn messenger the spring of her senior year. For reasons that still bewilder me, I totally fell for her, and in June of 2005, after she'd graduated, literally asked her out. We went out (on 6/18/2005), to a movie in EC, and - in classic awesomeness form - made-out in the parking lot after the late show. But, in her classic teenage girl "Oh Shit!" senses, abruptly (and rightfully) broke things off after that. Similarly to my experience with Chelsea, I was totally heartbroken and hung up on her for MONTHS...until I realized the truth - that I was merely the "Old Guy Novelty Act" and she never had any feelings for me. This singular experience is what thrust me into "Altered Beast Mode" - driving me to do all that crazy shit from '06-07 while "back to school" in La Crosse, including - most notably - my multiple hook-ups with Tara, who by no coincidence was also an 18 year old.
It ended very badly and awkwardly with Carie and I: all my attempts to communicate with her and "be her friend", at best were unsuccessful, and at worst were awkward and creepy. I saw her a couple of times at meets in the fall of 2005, when she was a freshman runner at Minnesota, but had not seen her again since then.
Until this moment.
Holy shit!
So just as I was about to let go and cut loose, there she was, on the dance floor.
Old me would've avoided her. But new me is all about confrontation. Confrontation is about being mature enough to recognize and be comfortable with The Elephant in the Room. And, just like it was confronting El Jefe at yoga, there's hidden power in that act - being the one to be mature, and strong enough to withstand that fear.
So I was hell-bent on approaching her. But it wasn't easy. It was a club atmosphere; it was loud and crowded. She was also partying with a group; hard, in fact. She was one of those people sucking back on whole bottles of shitty wine, getting drunker by the minute.
Strauss, et al, talk about confronting a "target" woman within 3 seconds of seeing them; waiting any longer make you self-doubt and over-think, and it makes you look creepy. I waited a good 30 minutes, but finally, I was like, "Fuck it!". Maybe it was the multiple Busch Lights, but I went in.
Me (approaching from the side, at a relatively quieter side of the floor): "Carie Steil." [grabbing her hand to shake it, in the unlikely event she didn't remember me] "Joe Uhan, how's to going?"
Carie: "Good" (maybe? I can't remember, she might've said nothing)
Me: "So I hear you're a physical therapist?" (She is; she graduated undergrad in '09 and PT school in '12)
Carie: "Yeah"
Me: "Do you work here in town?"*
Carie: "Yeah"
Me: "Well, it was nice to see you" [clinking Busch light can to shitty Boon's Farm wine bottle]
And I walked away.
It was awesome.
I felt phenomenal, having the power to - in that experience - take eight-plus years of pain, shame, and awkwardness, and put it to rest with that singular act: "Hey, I remember you. You remember me. It's cool. Nice to see you."
I looked her way a bit a couple times, and it seemed like she might've been chatting (in that secretive awkward way) to another guy, about me, but there was no way of knowing.
The interesting thing was, especially after that moment, examining her as a person: What was I thinking? She wasn't that awesome at 18. At 26? Guzzling wine out of a bottle and acting like a local drunk? Ugh! Wow. (guess that could've been "I Married Common Street Trash").
Perspective.
After that, I was super-pumped: free to party my ass off - and take over the floor without having to fear interacting with her, it was party tyme!
Attraction is energy, I'm positive of that. Looks play a big role, but if you have great energy, it's magnetic. I was happy and having fun, and apparently that vibe was potent - or maybe it was the Boon's Farm - because the women began to swarm!
So: I learned something last night: when a girl wants to dance with you, her way of letting you know - besides giving you "the big eyes", which I got a few times - is to casually approach and, while not facing you, gradually "back dat ass up" into you! It happened at least two different times - or it took that many times to realize what was going on. They weren't quite grinding, but it was close!
As this is occurring with one trio of girls, I feel a hand on my shoulder. I turn, and it's this random woman, just looking at me. I look at her.
Woman: "I just wanted to say that I think you're an extremely attractive man".
Me: "Thank you!"
And she walked off! She, unfortunately, wasn't what I'd call "extremely attractive", so I didn't pursue.
But I loved it! Holy shit! I'm the 35.9 year old guy in the bar, and I'm getting hit on! Fuck yeah!
So, it's now nearly 2AM, and I'm raring to go. Pretty soon, yet another trio of girls - this time - extremely attractive ones - rolls up. And they're mildly dancing up on me and giving me "the eyes". But...just as I'm about to bust out my killer moves ("it's ALL in the HIPS!"), the DJ - who'd already yelled "Last Call!" about thrice - cut the dance tunes to play "Don't Stop Believin'"! I tried to engage them in some faux karaoke, but they weren't feeling it. So I jammed out with my cc boys. Interestingly, that song is UW-L CC's theme song, but it still rocks.
Finally, it's over: club is closed, time to vacate. Tried to have one last interaction with the hot trio, but it wasn't in the cards. It was bar close.
Water Street was a clusterfuck - like hundred and hundreds of people on the sidewalks. We parted ways with the young guys, and Kevo, Mack and I drove home (my BAL might've been over 0.08, but I was not drunk at all, which was weird).
Phenomenal night. So incredibly odd that Carie showed up, but I believe that God - or our own healing psyche - presents those healing opportunities for us, and I was happy to take full advantage. And it was good to know that that good, legitimate, positive energy still resides in me, and that it is a valuable thing....
Got to bed around 3AM. Good day.
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