This morning, had an epiphany about one of my favorite books, “The Old Man and the Sea”, by Ernest Hemingway. I have read this book five times, and every time, I find something new about it. This time, I was not reading it when I found a possible hidden theme.
After browsing the web for different themes, I failed to find the one that I just found. It is easy to find the Christianity theme of the book. It is practically the only theme any one ever mentions. Sure, I can see it, but let me think on my own. What about love, though? Hemingway is known to have that theme in a lot of his other books, such as “The Sun Also Rises”. That is the theme I happened to stumble upon in my simple mind.
Santiago, the old man, has lived his whole life, poor and alone. All he has is fishing, and the little boy. In the beginning of the story, he is having a hard time catching anything, a stroke of bad luck. He dreams of when he worked on large cargo ships, traveling to distance shores, and seeing lions on a beach in Africa. The little boys family does not want the boy fishing with the old man because he is “bad luck”. One day, the old man decides to venture out further than normal, further than the other fishermen with their powered boats and new technology. He catches a very large marlin, which over powers him and takes him out to sea. He catches a dolphin along the way, and some other small fish, in order to eat. If you have not read the book, and do not want me to spoil the ending, I would stop reading here, and just skip to the next paragraph of my post. He ends up reeling in the marlin, after it gets tired of pulling the small boat for miles. The fish is too large to put in the boat, so Santiago ties the marlin to the side of his boat. After numerous sharks attack the fish, and after fighting for as long as he can, he has nothing left of the fish except for the skeleton. Even after he has lost everything in pursuit of this prize fish, he still takes the remnants all the way back to his shoreline town on the island of Cuba.
The reason I have loved the book for so long is because Santiago’s struggle. Even though his struggle is so tough, and he loses everything, he still goes on, showing that our lives go on, no matter what we go through. However, that is no longer my stance on the theme of the book. The story of Santiago and the marlin is one of finding, pursuing, and losing love. Santiago is just an old man. Poor, lonely, the average man of this Cuban fishing community. He dreams of a love of the past, once had, but then lost. He wants to go back there, but he no longer can. He has not caught a fish for a long time, which signifies not being in a relationship for a while. He realizes that in order to start one, he has to break down barriers, to venture out further than normal, which in our lives can represent picking up a new hobby, talking to that girl behind the register, or texting that cute girl who sent you a message over Facebook a couple of days ago. When he does that, he catches the marlin, a large, beautiful fish, which overpowers him. He managed to catch a fish thought to be out of his league, and fell in love very quickly. He was ill prepared, with no food and just a bottle of water. The fish takes him on an adventure, and he helplessly pursues it. When he catches the flying fish and the dolphin, it represents the other short-lived relationships one might get into while still pursuing that one.
Again, if you have not read the book, and do not want the ending to be spoiled, skip this paragraph. After fighting for so long, and not giving up on catching this prize marlin, he has tired it enough to reel it in, a representation on the girl accepting you just because you follow her around like a sick puppy. The marlin is too big to fit in the small boat, so he ties it the side, as if he was not able to provide for a love. Then, the fish is attacked by sharks, like other people trying to steal her from him. He fights them off, they keep coming, and he keeps fighting, until they make off with her. He has nothing left of her except for the skeleton, the memory of losing her. He gets back to his town, in the same situation he left, poor and alone. The other fishermen speak softly about this skeleton tied to his boat, gossip of a great fish lost to “la mar”.
Others may say, “There are plenty of fish in the sea,” but it is just not that easy. You take risks to find love, and you fight for it and to keep it, until everything gets the better of you, and you lose it.
Don’t lose your fish
Bredelman, OUT
Well, I don’t have an audience to pretend that I am writing to, so I won’t try to make it seem like I am some accomplished “blogger”.
But Why have I not posted a blog in over a year.. or two? In fact, I don’t remember when I posted my last post. Truth of the matter: I forgot I even had one. I had to look up my blog on Google in order to find it. I also forgot the feeling of taking a thought, and the emotions that go along with it, and to write about it. To put pen to paper, or in modern times, fingers to keys or words on a screen. I think I like “To put fingers to keys”. Maybe it will catch on.
So what pushed me to try to reignite my blog? It was an epiphany I had while in an argument with my girlfriend. That epiphany will be my next post, and I refuse to ruin the surprise that, when I think about it, will not be a surprise because I do not have any followers to surprise. Wow, this is kind of depressing in a way.
So what is new in the life of Bredelman? Well, to start off with, I have a great girlfriend. I can honestly see myself with her for the decades to come. We have been talking for about a year, only been “official” for about a month, but I love her. She really is my everything. I would go on, but this post is not all about her, though I will definitely write a post about her in the near future. I am also stationed at Camp Lejeune, North Carolina, with the Marine Corps. I’m not going to go into depth about that. Sometimes I love it, sometimes I hate it. It is what it is. I am looking at getting deployed in the coming fall. Part of me wants to go, but part of me does not. North Carolina is alright. I miss Montana like none other, though. I do not travel or hike or go on adventures like I used to. Simple reason being, there really is not much of that around here.
That is about it for right now. Until my next post,
Bredelman, OUT
I wake up suddenly. I realize my running clothes are still on, even my shoes. I’m laying face down on top of my covers. The light in my room is on, door open, and my long-sleeved shirt is wet. I check the clock and it reads 4:13.
I must have been sleep runnings again. It seems as though the more I run during the day, the more likely I go run while I’m “sleeping”. I ran 20 miles yesterday morning, so it shouldn’t have come as a suprise.
I check my phone, hoping there aren’t any texts, but in a way, praying there was. The last thing I remember before drifting off was I was waiting for a text from Juli. I hate falling asleep while I’m texting someone. I text a simple message to her. “Just two days..” I get a reply, and fear I interrupted her REM. Thankfully, she was already awake.
It was then I realized that, in a half hour, the sun would start to come up, and splash color on its canvas. Dawn and dusk, to me, are like watching a painting come to life. It’s a beautiful phenomenon. I rarely get up early enough to watch the sun rise, so I take full advantage of this opportunity. I dress in clean clothes, keeping in mind that I will be going to church later this morning, and forgetting that my body was sweating less than an hour ago.
I step outside, onto the deck. This gives me the best view from my house. Color is just starting to spread from the horizon. I sit and watch for a few minutes. I head back inside and grab a banana, restarting my metabolism. I know I probably need the potasium any way. I watch the color slowly spread into the sky. I hear coyotes, communicating with one another; bats, finding their last minute insects before heading back to their caves; and antelope, stirring in the open lot across the street. I go back inside, and prepare the coffee pot. I’m running on two hours of sleep, and who knows how much of that was spent on the road.
Going back outside, there is more color. A deep pink at the horizon. As my eyes move away from the shadows, the pink fades to a beautiful shade of purple, then dark blue. I go back inside and put some sugar and milk in a mug. My first cup of coffee has to be sweet. By my third cup, it can almost be black, though I don’t plan of having that much coffee. Light starts to fill the land, and the canvas now has a new color: orange. The clouds are starting to get some color to themselves, and their curves are becoming defined.
Yellow to orange, to red and purple, to a darker shade of blue. The clouds are pink on their eastern faces, and its beautiful. The sunrise is at its peak of beauty. The artist is making his statement, but it will only stay like this for a few moments. I inhale deeply, and slowly exhale. It is breath taking. I take my phone out. I take some quick pictures, and wishing Juli was here to see this with me, I send a couple to her. As I send them, depression sets in. I wish she was here to enjoy such a beautiful morning.
I take another sip of coffee. I’m on my second cup, not realizing I had gotten more. The artist now starts to show his face over the horizon, and the sunrise’s beauty not starts to fade into day. Even though Juli wan’t with me, I’m happy again. A natural high comes over me, much like the endorphines right before a race. I have just witnessed what so few people take the time to see: a beautiful beginning to a new day.
Slow down, breathe, and enjoy the simple pleasures of life.
~Bredelman, OUT
It has been awhile since I have made a post. Nothing of interest has really happened. So, in a desperate attempt, I will tell all of you what has happened since my last post.
Since my last post, I quit my job. I just needed break. It is so nice, being unemployed, once you get past the fact that no more money is entering your bank account. I have so much time. Yesterday, for example, I took my dog for a drive. Just out of the blue. It may come to a surprise to many, but it was fun. We didn’t go very far, or fast, but having that time with my best friend gave me a spirited revival.
There is also a French girl living with my family for the time being. She’s nice, cute, but we haven’t connected.
I took my brother for a hike along the Yellowstone River. Another thing I was able to do, thanks to being unemployed. Half the trail seemed as though swamp land. Mosquitoes. Mud. Water. Trees and vines. It was nice to get away. We stopped in a dry, open spot along the river, and I heated some water and we had a couple cups of hot apple cider. The fast, cold, dangerous water of a river at the end of spring just feet away made me think of simpler times. When bison were in the millions. When there were no paved roads. No cars. No gyms. When, if one wanted food, they had to catch it. If one wanted to see nature, they just had to look out of the tent, tipi, cabin. When, if one wanted a true adventure, they just had to pick a direction to go in.
This brings me to the second part of my blog. Since school has ended and I quit my job, I have been waiting to go on an adventure. Some call it vagabonding. Some call it tramping. Some call it wandering. Whatever you decide to call it, that is what I want.
I do not want to map it out. I do not want to worry about money. The only thing I want to worry about is how I am going to reintroduce myself to society.
A true adventure.
We, as society, have lost touch with our fun, adventurous, wild side. Many know it is there, but don’t know how to release it. Some are able to. I tip my hat to those who find a real adventure. Yes, there are dangers. But they are able to overcome the fear. Once you overcome the fear, you unlock fun. And fun is addictive.
I don’t know where I am going with this, to be honest. I am just rambling on.
Tomorrow, I leave to for a trip to Dallas, Texas. On the way, I will be stopping in Yellowstone National Park. I will also be stopping to go white water rafting, something I have not yet experienced. I will also go to a couple amusements parks. My trip should be fun. My trip could get some of my adventurousness out of me. But, if it is fun, and if what I had said about fun earlier, I will be looking for my next fix of adventure.
I can’t wait.
Go explore, America.
~Bredelman, OUT
It’s all in the atmosphere. It is the most important meet of a high school track athlete’s career. This is the time to show what you have. This is what you have worked for all season, year, high school career, and before. The crowd is loud. Records are broken. Pride is gained and lost. These are the top track athletes in the state.
I went for the 800. It has been described as the hardest race in track. Two laps of a near sprint.
I’m seeded number 3, in lane 4. There are 9 other runners. To the right, I have the top seeded runner, from Flathead. His time is only a second better than mine. My adrenaline is pumping as my nerves peak.
“Runners set!” Time stops as I take one last breath in. BANG! All ten of us are moving.
As I come off of the second curve, I sit at the back of the pack, about to get boxed in. I make a move to get out of the trap I fear the most. I escape, as I have managed to do all season. The bell rings and I am passing the pack with the number one seed. We made the same shifts at the same points in our races. We are chasing after the leader of the first lap, from Butte and the defending state champ, who is only a few meters ahead. With 200 meters left, the Flathead runner starts passing the Butte runner. I am not far behind, but I fail to pass the person now in second.
A hundred meters to go. This is the last stretch of the race. My kick is about to reach its peak. I see out of the corner of my eye, another runner next to me. I make another shift to fight him off, and start gaining on the Butte runner again. I come up behind him, and make my final, last ditch shift, in an attempt to pass him.
What makes the 800 so hard is the amount of pain one goes through at the end. If the race doesn’t hurt, you aren’t racing.
I am in so much pain at this point, and I am about to put myself into more.
The Butte runner makes a shift in an effort to keep me from passing him. We cross the finish line, and the race is over. I finished in third.
My time was 1:58.8. The Butte runner’s time was 1:58.7, and the winner had a time of 1:56.
I can’t be mad about my race. I finished in the place I was seeded, with the fastest time in my life.
But I can’t help to think that I could have put myself through more pain. I could have made shifts earlier.
My race could have been different. But it is over. I can’t go back and change it now.
That was the last race of my high school career, and, maybe, the last track race of my race.
I gave it a good run.
~Bredelman, OUT
It has been a while since I have made a post, but I have been pretty busy with training. It is now the end of the track season in Montana. There is only one week until the State Championship. I have had a good season, especially in the 800. When it comes to the 1600, I have not been as successful, but better than last year.
The 800. 800 meters. 600 steps. 2 laps. 1 victor. It is one of the hardest races in track. It is a challenge. Not many can put themselves through the pain of two minutes of near sprinting. It is what I like to call, “Fun.”
I have won the 800 before. I have won it at all of the duels, and even at one of the big invites. Last week, at the city meet, it was me, a teammate, and the top 800 runner in the conference. I lost that race, but it set a fire within. This weekend was the AA Eastern Divisionals meet. I would face the same runner I lost to the week before. I wanted that win. It would be a win sweeter than the Skor-Decam Invite win I had a few weeks before in Helena. I wanted the win.
The gun goes off and the race begins. I was in fouth place at the end of the first lap. The others had a split time of 57 or 58 and I had a split of 59 seconds. I got focused on the group ahead of me. All I concentrated on were their backs. I make my shifts. I tuck in behind the group to draft for just a few seconds, then I make another shift. I pass the group, and feel them trying to stay on me. As we go onto the last curve, I make more shifts. The top seed is still with me. It comes down to the last hundred meters. It comes down to a sprint, or as fast we can go at this point of the race. I hear the crowd. I hear some chearing for me. Some are chearing for him. That just makes me want to go faster. In the last 20 or 30 meters, I was able to find one more gear, and was able to win.
2:00.69. A new personal record. A winning time. One of the fastest times in the state. It is the third fastest time in the AA Division. It got me to State.
Next week is the State meet. I am seeded number three. Only one person in the division has broken two minutes. I know I can catch him. I want to win.
Run fast.
~Bredelman, OUT
Sweat is dripping from my forehead and drenches my jersey. I feel the wind on the back stretch of the track. Only three-and-a-half laps left.
I’m sitting in fifth place, but slowly closing on the fourth place guy. He’s a teammate, but he is dropping back, and I have to pick up his slack. With only two laps left, I make a small shift. I pick up speed, and gain on my teammate quicker. The bell sounds as the leaders head onto their last lap. I go onto the last lap feeling good, and I quickly pass my teammate and head into fourth. In this meet, fourth place earns points. I kick in the last 350 meters and I easily come in fourth, not too far away from third. My time: 11:18.
This is the 3200 meter race. 8 laps. Just about two miles. This is not my favorite race. It is slow and boring. You get lost in those 8 laps, unless you are competing for the win. I don’t. I get lost. My mind wonders. I can’t concentrate. I can’t focus on what I need to do. This is the first time I have ran the 3200 since the beginning of the track season of my sophomore year. I used to be decent at it. My PR is 10:22, but, like I said, that was a couple years ago, back when the 3200 was one of my focuses. I have never really liked the race, I just ran it. I tried it out again just to get some mileage in.
This race 75% mental and 25% physical. Without the endurance, one would die. Without the mentality, one would lose their mind. If you have the physical ability and the competition, it becomes a race of strategy. The 800, my best event, there is not enough time to strategize. The 1600, another one of my better events, strategies consist of drafting, and that’s about it. The 3200 has teammates drafting off of one another and making shifts in pace. Surging is used often. 10 minutes gives a runner enough time to use some of the most extravagant strategies. That was never one of my fortes. The two mile is not my forte.
A 5K on the street is fun. 8 laps on a track is torture. I can’t imagine a 10K on a track.
~Bredelman, OUT
As I walk behind the bleachers to go to the bathroom, I see a banner hanging from the seats saying “Home of the Hawks”. Skyview is at Bozeman for our first AA track meet of the season. When I see that banner, I can’t stop from thinking “Property of the Falcons”. Bozeman won the state championship for cross country, and everyone knows they have some studs on the distance side. That doesn’t stop me from wanting to win. It’s a beautiful day for a race, and there is only a slight breeze. It’s nothing compared to our home track.
Skyview boys go on to win the meet, 90-58. I earned 8 of our points by myself. I placed second in the 1600 with a 4:50. In the 800, I got a 2:05, and that was enough to win it. I anchored for the 4×400 relay team, and we won the relay.
We all competed hard, but it is bothersome to me that Bozeman didn’t have their studs out. From what I’ve heard, though, they aren’t as prepared as I make them out to be, and that is a good thing. I guess I will find out on Saturday at the Billings Invite.
The first track meet for Skyview, against Great Falls and Helena Capital in Great Falls, was cancelled due to poor weather. We were lucky enough to get another meet together with Laurel at Skyview on Tuesday.
The first meet of the season sets the tone for the athletes. They know, after the first meet, whether they need to work harder or if they are ready to compete. It gets the competitive juices flowing and rookies can see what a race looks, and feels, like. The first meet can make rookies the most nervous, but that is good for them.
The first meet gives the coaches and other schools a feel for how much talent is on the team. Runners get a feel for race pace, work on strategy, and feel the effects of adrenaline. Sprinters get a feel for the blocks and gun when there is adrenaline. Jumpers feel the real bar when they hit it. Throwers get to go through the whole motion of their throw. The new fans can see what a track meet is like and the experienced fans can compare the new season to ones of the past.
All in all, the first meet is crucial. It is nothing compared to the end of the season, but it can set, or destroy, the tone of the new season and the confidence of the athletes. A good first meet is the sign of a good season, if the athletes stay healthy. Athletes can find the flaws of their battle plans, or they can experiment with different ones.
Here’s to a new, and last, track season for me.
Go hard. From start to finish.
~Bredelman, OUT
Just a couple weeks ago, I was finding it extremely hard to find the motivation for track. I no longer have that problem.
The team started practice this past week, and all of a sudden, the motivation I had after cross country is back, and it is getting better and better everyday. Today, I got some new shoes and spikes. My shoes are Brooks Addiction, a shoe I have been wearing for a few seasons. The spikes are Brooks Z3 Distance spikes. They are the lightest shoes I have ever had and they fit my foot very well. I have full confidence that these shoes will carry me to a sub-2 minute 800, a 4:30 mile, and state.
It is amazing what can happen in just a couple days.
There is no price for success
~Bredelman, OUT
