The StairTrudge, part 3

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Hello everyone, and thank you one more time for your generosity in supporting the Seattle Firefighter Stairclimb. This was a very tough year for fundraising, but my group of contributors actually managed to surpass my total from last year. As of today, we're sitting at $1,750!!! For reference, the 20th highest fundraiser (out of 1,500 participants) last year was around $2,300, so we are way way up there. Thank you for helping with such an important cause. If you come across anyone still wanting to donate for this year, I believe they hold our websites open until March 31st. Here's mine one last time:

http://www.llswa.org/goto/BenMcCafferty2009

At the climb, I was talking to my friend and fellow firefighter, John DeLanoy. He told me a bit about his dad, who was diagnosed with leukemia in 2001. Back then, the oncologist told his dad two things. First, he said, we don't even give odds of survival for your particular cancer anymore--I will guarantee that you will recover from it (which he did). Second, he said, if it were 1991 (a mere ten years earlier), I would have guaranteed that you would die from this cancer. The dramatic change in prognosis is the result of medical research--the very thing that your dollars go towards at the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. So one more time, thank you.
As expressed in my second fundraising email, I was worried about the climb this year, mainly because of the expected hard day at the fire station on the Saturday before Sunday's climb. Saturday didn't disappoint, and we all left the drill ground totally wiped out. Sunday, I just told myself that I wasn't in a race, I was just getting to the top. I took breaks about every five floors for the first 20, and then about every 2-3 floors the rest of the way. Just a quick 10 seconds or so to catch my breath and keep going. I made the top (69 floors total, 1,311 stairs) in 28:20, which is about 4o seconds slower than last year, and I have to say that it was my easiest climb yet. I was in much better shape at the top, and recovered very quickly. I have been following the Firefighter's Workout Book for some time, and it seems to be having the desired result, because I did not do any training specific to the climb this year, yet it went beautifully. If you're interested in the results, click here. John finished in tenth place in the "masters males" category, with a time of 14:38! The top male was a stunning 10:55, and top female was 14:36.

This year I carried my camera again, and took some video as I arrived at the bottle change on floor 40. We actually changed entire packs this year, but you'll get the idea of what an organized chaos that room is. I also shot video for the final three floors, complete with cheerleaders, floor signs, and the lady at the the end making huge gestures to swipe your timing chip "RIGHT HERE". Much to my dismay, I had turned on the camera but didn't start the recording. So your view of the finish line will have to wait until next year.


I couldn't get the video to embed in my blog, so click here for the bottle change video. You will have to click the "back" button on your browser to return to my blog after viewing the video.

After the first rehab station on floor 73, I took the freight elevator back down to floor 3, and then there is a long walk back to the lobby and second rehab station. Once again, the Society had cheerleaders all along that walk, and for the third year running, seeing them made me well up a tear. I still don't understand why this is. Is it the emotional release of having completed the climb? Seeing how many people are involved in this huge team effort to cure leukemia? Thinking about those living with the disease and how they don't have a finish line that's so distinct and clear? Or just physical exhaustion? Whatever it is, I know that being tired brings down many barriers we have to accessing our own feelings, and so something is available to me during those times that's not there otherwise.

Since I'm spending so much time at the station right now, I wanted to get home and so I walked down to the ferry with my gear and boarded for Bainbridge. The sky and water were blue with huge fluffy clouds, and all just seemed right with the world. As the engines rumbled into action, I dozed off, exhausted but knowing that my goal for the year was accomplished, and with a feeling of overwhelming gratitude to be around such amazing people in my everyday life.

I am grateful to have a wonderful partner and two beautiful kids, and I never take for granted what wonder and amazement they bring into my world on a daily basis. I wish you and yours all the best for the next year.
bmc

The Turkey Has Landed...

So my neighbor raises turkeys. Really good ones--free range, good feed, etc. "Sure," says I, "I'd love a turkey for Thanksgiving. But I'll be out of town--mind holding one for me, and I'll cook it for Christmas?" "No problem," says he, "they run about 20 pounds." A bit more than I wanted, but hey, turkey leftovers are really good. Well, I get home, and my turkey is plucked and frozen and...

...thirty three pounds. (Yes, 33). There were going to be seven of us for dinner, including two small kids. Call it 5 1/2. (That's a bruise on the leg of the turkey, thawing in the sink. I know, I know...but do you know how long it takes to defrost a 33# turkey in the fridge? 7-10 days).

I had two weeks until Christmas, and I immediately started stressing about this turkey. I wanted very much to cook it on the Big Green Egg, and made a posting on the BGE forum. Several guys basically said, "No way. Way too big for the large BGE. You need the extra large." (The forum, by the way, is for the maniacal followers of the Big Green Egg, known as eggheads. I aspire to be welcomed into their ranks.)

Being somewhat stubborn (OK, more than somewhat), I kept at it. In the end, I didn't get to try out my final setup until (gulp) Christmas morning, and would you believe it? It was an absolute perfect fit--I couldn't have planned it any better. And the turkey was the best I've ever had, bar none. Needless to say, we have one or two vacuum sealed bags of leftover turkey...


So here's the whole sordid arrangement.

I started by re-reading bbum's web-log-o-mat, which has been the inspiration for the Big Green Egg from the beginning. Someday I gotta meet this guy. Though I don't even know his name, he's pretty much my hero--übergeek, loves good food, writes code for Apple. Anyway, also inspired by his site, I ordered a Stoker, which is a temperature controller for charcoal cookers. It turns on a small fan when the temperature drops below a set point, and chokes the damper if things are too hot. It also has a web server, and is network capable. How is geek/gearhead like myself supposed to even begin to resist such a contraption??? As I said to my mom, "You can administer your turkey from anywhere in the world." She went into near-hysterics, laughing for a good five minutes or so. As an aside, Kathryn's parents recently gave us a generous cash gift for Christmas--Kathryn got diamonds and rubies; I got the Stoker. Mind you, in-laws, 85% or more of your gift was spent on aforementioned jewels... Anyway, I rest my nerdy case.

Next I looked at a bunch of brine recipes, and settled on a maple brine that sounded great. For reference, that box the turkey is in is 18x12x12 inches, and holds five gallons of brine in addition to the turkey!!!

I checked in at the Big Green Egg forum pages, and asked for opinions there. Though mostly the guys didn't think I'd fare well (and I have to say that was a reasonable assumption on their part), one guy had the recommendation that I replace the 4-inch fire ring with the 2-inch fire ring, which would give me an extra 2 inches of clearance in the dome of the cooker. That turned out to be the winning ticket. I couldn't get the ring in time, so I broke the corners off of a 2 inch thick brick, and placed those on the firebox, with the plate setter resting on top of them.

One of the forum guys also recommended Mad Max's Turkey Recipe, and I followed that pretty much to the letter, with the exception that I brined the turkey also, with the brine mentioned above. It took 5 gallons of brine to cover the bird, and I let it soak for about 36 hours. The bird was not salty in the least--just juicy and lightly smoky. I also covered it with strips of bacon after about two hours of cooking time, and basted it maybe once per hour.

Conventional wisdom says that turkeys take 15-18 minutes per pound of cook time, at 325F. The farmer of my turkey said his customers were reporting that the birds were cooking in about 11 minutes per pound for some reason, so my mother-in-law and I estimated cook times for 11 to 18 minutes, and decided that starting the bird at 6AM would be a safe starting point, making dinner neither too early nor too late for the range of possible cook times. As it turned out, the turkey was done in 7 hours, and actually was a little hotter than I was shooting for. It was 190F thigh, 170F breast.

Some lessons learned.
--The maple brine uses soy sauce, and most of that runs out into the pan when cooking. The resultant gravy was snap-your-head-to-the-side salty. I also used salted butter and there were bacon drippings in there. Really no cure for this--just have to not brine if I want a non-salty gravy next time.
--The bird cooks fast and even in the Egg. About 12 minutes per pound was great.
--A large oval aluminum roasting pan was just the right size to fit the bird and the Egg. I had to tie the legs together, as well as tying the wings to the body to keep them out of the way of the lid.
--The Stoker totally rocked and was the star of the show. It kept the Egg within a few degrees of 325 at all times.
--Using the Stoker also made the Egg very fuel efficient. Per John's advice (maker of the Stoker), I laid the charcoal by hand, big pieces on the bottom, then medium, then small. I mounded the charcoal up slightly above the top of the fire box (about 1 inch in the middle). I used three starters on top of the coals instead of nestled into them. I let the fire burn for about 30-45 minutes before adding the turkey, and after eight hours total at 325F, I had about 1/3 of my charcoal left. Awesome. I think I could have gone another 3-4 hours without needing to reload the firebox.Can't wait for next year...but in the meantime, I'll have to find other things to gorge on...er, test the Stoker on...

Thanks to all who helped out with this!!! It was worth the obsessiveness I think.

bmc

Rosetta...at last...

Today's pour. It was the first time that the milk really peeled off the pitcher the way it's supposed to. Can't wait to get smaller and shallower cups...

Progress...

Yesterday I had some kind of breakthrough in pouring latte art. For one thing I finally started getting my foam right, but I accidentally poured a few petals and it was a different feeling than I've had before. So building on that, I suddenly could pour rosettas, although they are inconsistent and not as large as I want. I currently only have 16 ounce cups, which are way too deep, but that will change soon. These photos are four consecutive pours, with only one wasted pour in the middle that isn't pictured (and that one was using an experimental tip that ruined the foam). The yellow cup is this morning's pour, the most current.

But The View From The Top Is Worth It...

Dear Friends,
The climb is in the books. As always it was hard and hot and painful and "why the hell do I sign up for this again every year???" But the view from the top...

(You can click on any picture to see a larger version of it, and you can leave comments if you wish by clicking the "comments" link at the bottom of the page).

Fastest male: 11:37 (age 40!)

Fastest female: 17:34

Me: 27:28 (and glad to finish...)

Before we started, there were general announcements and the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society introduced this year's honoree, Mason. He was such a typical 4-year-old; shy and a little grumpy (I can't imagine why, with 1,400 people looking at him at once...).

But one department had had a helmet made for him--a real firefighting helmet with red and white flame stripes on the sides, and a blue field on the front with stars--it was super-cool, and Mason was beside himself to get it. His parents talked a bit about their experience--Mason was diagnosed a year ago, and during last year's climb, he was doing his first treatments. His treatment will last 3 1/2 years, so he'll be done in May of 2010 (!)--he's currently four. His particular illness now has a survival rate of 90%, thanks in large part to research funded by the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society.

As I was in line for roll call for my battalion, a dad came by with his daughter in his arms, and she was giving out pictures of herself. Her name is Morgan Hylton, and if I had to guess, I'd say she's about 2 1/2 to 3. She was diagnosed with acute lymphoblastic leukemia on October 6, 2006. I gladly added her picture to my helmet. If you'd like to meet her or read about her, you can go to Care Pages and register, then go to member page "WeLoveMorgan". There are some terrific photos of her there.

So why am I telling you all this? This year, the stairclimb has been a lot more meaningful and emotional for me personally. I guess it's the events of the past year, Megan's challenges, the overwhelming support in

fundraising that I and the whole department have seen, and so on. I revised my personal fundraising goal from $1,000 to $1,500 two days before the event, and everyone stepped up, putting me well over the top before Sunday's event. BIFD has raised over $13,000 this year!

But meeting these little guys, hearing about my aunt's best friend who has lived with leukemia for nine years--these experiences put a real face on things that many of us (myself included) can't relate to or understand in any meaningful way. Having a 3 and 5 year old of my own makes it really clear that these kids are normal kids, just like any others, except that they're facing down a disease that no one should have to experience.

The stairclimb itself is a metaphor for what these patients go through. When you head into the tower, there are lots of people cheering you on, and about every ten floors there are more people to pour water down your back and shout words of encouragement. And the top is obviously amazing. But it is really hard to describe how tough those ten floors in between are--there is no one but you and your own thoughts to carry you through, and each step, each flight is another choice to push on or quit. I'm sure long-distance athletes understand this on a much deeper level than I do, but nonetheless. I always wonder how these people, these families, find the strength to press on another day towards an uncertain destination. But I do know that from the outside, every little effort, every step climbed, every dollar raised, every word of encouragement, makes a difference in some small way. I thank you all again for helping us make the event a huge success once again this year. So until next year...I guess I need to train harder if I'm to beat the 11:37 time... :)

Here's a shot just before entering the tower--I learned last year to keep all my gear open/unzipped as long as possible, to save the heat buildup until the very last second.

This one is from the 40th floor right after my bottle change (we enter on floor 4). 36 down, 33 to go. I can't believe I managed a smile... Our only exposed skin is our neck and ears, so evaporative cooling is non-existent.

And this one is from the top, floor 73!!! It's not a great picture, but you get the idea. You can see the port of Seattle to my left, and the Seahawks' stadium to my right. Is that a dry spot on my right sleeve?

This is a bit better closeup with helmet.

When I got home, I found this sign stuck in a pan of fresh Ghirardelli brownies that Kathryn and the kids had made (Ronan wrote, "GOOD JOB STAIRCLIMB" with a skyscraper and sun). I admit welling up a little tear or two...the exhaustion, the physical and emotional release, the sense of accomplishment, the juxtaposition of lives.

Ronan and I spent the afternoon making PVC hockey goals, and then having a cutthroat Stanley Cup playoff game in the street (Maple Leafs-Ronan vs. Avalanche-me) .

No day but today.

So goes the Stairclimb

The Scott Firefighter Stairclimb is really quite amazing to see. We all show up at around 8AM, and this year there will be more than 1,300 of us doing the climb. The Columbia Tower in Seattle has three open floors at the bottom, and these provide the holding area for everyone. You have never seen so many sets of bunker gear and airpacks in all your life!!

We are organized by battalions, and as our battalion is called, we grab our gear, head up several escalators, and walk to a check-in table. After that table, we head outside, and are checked for completeness of gear (some participants in the past have tried to climb without liners in their coats, non-structural boots, etc. to save weight and heat). Finally, we scan a timing chip that is attached to our wrist and enter the building, spaced 15 seconds apart.

We enter on the 4th floor, and walk down a hallway to the stairwell, and up it goes from there. About every ten floors, there are volunteers from the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society cheering us on, and they'll pour water down our backs (inside our coats) if desired. I didn't think I'd want this, but let me tell you, it is very welcome on race day!!! There are also paramedics in the stairwell all along the way, and they will get right down in your face to look at you through your mask and do a quick assessment of your condition.

On the 40th floor, we exit the stairwell and walk into a very small conference room with a dynamite view of the city. This room can only be described as controlled chaos. It is filled to bursting with extra bottles for each team, and bottle changers as well. Mind you, there are more than 1,300 firefighters going up the stairs, so this room is packed. As we exit the stairwell, people start yelling, "Bainbridge Fire!" and our bottle changer gets to the front of the crowd and gets ready. We stop and bend over for a rest, and he changes our bottle out for a fresh one. This takes about a minute.

Once this is done, we continue through the room and back into the stairwell for the last 33 floors. Again, people are there to cheer and pour water, and the last cheerleaders are at about floor 71, 2 to go.

We exit the stairwell for the last time on floor 73, 69 floors above where we started, and scan our wrist chip again to end our time. About five volunteers descend upon each firefighter and literally strip them of all gear except pants. One of those volunteers is responsible for all the gear, and ensures that it all winds up in one place with the firefighter. I also recall having a bottle of water and a banana shoved into my hands as soon as my coat was off.

The 73rd floor is an observation deck, with almost a 360 degree view of the Seattle/Puget Sound area--it was grey last year, but still beautiful. This year we seem to be having an early spring, so hopefully we may have some sun. I will carry my small camera with me and try to get some photos to post later on.

After a bit of recovery, we head off to the elevator for the ride back down, and it's all over. It is a wonderful feeling of accomplishment and obviously a huge physical effort, but all well worth it.

Thank you again for your support, and send all the positive vibes you can on Sunday morning! My fundraising page is here: http://www.active.com/donate/17thscottstairclimb/GoGoGo
if you'd still like to contribute!!

Second dress rehearsal in the bag...

Did the second full gear climb today, with a backpack of 24 sodas to once again simulate the weight of an air pack. I did the same as last time; 82 times up, 82 times down, 1,312 stairs each direction. I hopped on the scale, and my gear (including backpack) is right on 60 pounds. I also weighed myself before and after climbing, thinking I'd see a drop of a few pounds due to lost water, but that didn't seem to be the case. But I did lose 1-2 pounds, according to my ultra-cheap and probably-not-very-accurate Wal-Mart scale. In fire school, they teach us that the average firefighter loses about one quart of water per hour in a fire, and I can verify this as being accurate in my own experience. On our burn-to-learn day a few years back, we had a total of 8 evolutions (fires) over about 6 hours. I was very well hydrated before starting the day, and I drank 14 or 15 pints of water and/or Gatorade during the day, and never had even the remotest urge to pee until the very end of the day. At that point, I thought, "Well, we'll be driving for an hour, and then on the ferry, so I should probably try to go." The urine was the darkest orange I've ever seen, in spite of all the fluids I'd had that day. And my bunker gear was soaked from the inside out, no small feat.

Back to stairs, I have to say that the climb today was noticeably easier than the one last week. My two theories about that are: first, I had a better memory this time of how hot it is, and second, I slowed myself down on my overall pace. I'd describe myself as trudging, but "slow and steady wins the race" as they say. Ironically, today I was finished in 35 minutes, where it took me nearly 40 last time. I started much much slower today, but finished at that same pace, and I think last week I started too fast and really bonked at the end--I had to take many breaks to catch my breath and so on last time around. Today I took the one-minute break at just over halfway to simulate having my air bottle changed, then took a short (5-10 second) break with 22 floors left to go, 12 floors left to go, and 3 floors left to go. On the real race day, there are volunteers cheering you on at least every 10 floors, and also with 2 floors to go--the charge of being so close to the end really carries you up those last few painful floors. I learned today that my main focus this year will be keeping my pace as slow as I possibly can.

At the end of these dress rehearsals, I can't get my gear off fast enough. Gloves, helmet, face piece, jacket, and then pants/boots. Let me just say how much I appreciate the fact that the volunteers at the actual climb literally strip you of your gear in seconds when you finish--with little or no effort on your part. It is a huge help, no doubt. We got new gear recently and the boots are awesome--snug and leather--but they are next to impossible to get off. Everything stays where it lands, and then I go for water, rowing, walking around; all I can do to let my heart unload gradually instead of all at once. This seems to keep my PSVT from acting up, which is always a good thing.

Recovery today was quicker, though I did have one moment when I (stupidly) sat down for about 20 seconds and then stood up to walk around some more. I definitely felt the lightheadedness of that, and won't do it again. But overall, this time didn't knock me down like the first one did--I also remember this from fire school--the first time we dragged charged hose lines up a stairwell, I thought I would drop dead on the spot. Each successive time was easier and easier, and ultimately, we learned how to do it with as little effort as possible, in addition to being in progressively better condition. So it goes.

The rest of the week will be about light workouts; some rowing, lots of walking, and lots of good food and fluids. Just keeping the old heart working a little bit, but letting the legs rest. I've surpassed my $1,000 fundraising goal as of Saturday, and may bump that up to $1,500, a good problem to have! This looks to be a good year for the climb for all of us at BIFD, and I'm once again glad to be able to take part. Five days to go...