Snippets of Stories 3

Scene from the story Twenty-six Point Two that I used to apply to the UO and OS Creative Writing g-school programs.

Once I got out of the water station, I began to run again. I planned to repeat what I had done in the first half. Mile thirteen to fourteen wasn’t too bad, but as soon as my body knew that I had decided to finish this marathon, it fought back. I felt as though my quads were swelling. I could almost hear a Thud! every time my foot hit the pavement. I longed for the next water station. My throat was so dry. I took walking breaks every mile and felt like no matter what I did, I could not get enough to drink. I was taking water at every water station. Gu, my energy source for this race, didn’t help at all, and neither did my miracle mix of peanut M&M’s and fruit snacks that got me through my first marathon in a Boston qualifying time. The aid stations were handing out Ultima Replenisher, a sugar-free version of Gatorade which made me gag. The liquid briefly hydrated my mouth, but then left it drier than before. My legs felt sluggish. I yearned for water. Ten steps later I grabbed one. It was warm.
“Go Anna!!!!!”
I looked right and saw my sister jumping and clapping. My mom stood next to her looking less enthused. Say something, mom, I thought. She didn’t though. She didn’t cheer me on nor did she tell me to quit. She just stared at me and from ten feet away I could see the age wrinkles around her eyes. I turned my head and faced forward, continuing on as my sister cheered from behind.
At mile sixteen, I seriously contemplated dropping out of the race. There were a few emergency aid stations marked along the course. When I reached one at mile seventeen, I thought, just try run to the next aid station and drop out there. I couldn’t get my medal unless I finished. Greed kept me going at this point. I did not drive five hours to Duluth not to get some hardware! Despite the selfish motivation, when I thought about how much more I had to still run, I felt worse. Old women were passing me. I lost sight of the nine-minute-mile pacer. Stopping to walk no longer helped.
Around mile seventeen and a half I became desperate to find any energy source. An older woman was handing out cups of ice at the very end of the next water station. I grabbed one as I ran by her and tossed a few cubes in my mouth. I began to choke.
“You ok,” asked a young man who had caught up to me.
“Yeah (cough), I’m fine (cough).”
I looked over at him. His nipples were bleeding through his white tank top. The lines of crusty red made me nauseous.
The cool in my mouth zapped me like a bold of lightening. I suddenly had energy again. I ate ice for the rest of the race when available; sometimes almost choking on it, but the slight relief the ice gave me made it worth it.
The marathon route entered Duluth. Some how, maybe because of the heat, in my mind, I had gotten a mile ahead of myself. I thought I was approaching mile twenty. I checked my watch and thought I had picked up the pace and was making good time. Then I came to mile nineteen. If I had the water and salt to spare, I would have cried. To think I only had 6.2 miles left and to realize I actually had 7.2 mile may not sound like a huge difference, but at that point, I dreaded every step.
In town, people cheered for us the entire way. Some even handed out food and water, or sprayed us down with they’re garden hose. One guy had a tray of small cups of beer. I passed up the offer, not because I was underage, but beer was the last thing I wanted to be drinking at that point. I couldn’t get enough water. A mile further down the road, a woman was holding out a giant tub of Vaseline. I was glad I had prepared my body that morning by rubbing down with Blister Shield wipes. At least I wasn’t dealing with chafing too.
I wish I could have enjoyed the last six miles more that I did. I had to use all my focus to keep going. No matter how hard I tried to run, I hurt, and I had to walk. All I could think about was how thirsty I was.
“Keep going blue shorts! You look strong,” yelled a spectator.
They have no idea what kind of pain I’m in, I thought. I just wanted to finish, that was all. Just cross the finish line and then sit down.
“High-five! High-five!” Yelled a little boy holding out his hand to runners. I extended a sweaty palm to him, but missed.
When I reached mile 23, I knew I just had a 5K to go. I had done countless 5k’s over my life. Compared to a marathon, the distance was minuscule. I had a feeling that this would be the longest 5k of my life. I came to a small bridge in the course that I had to run up and then back down. When I saw it, my heart sank. I knew from my last marathon that running down would be the worst part. The extra pounding took my already almost crippled legs and finished the job. Every step from there on out was like a combination of fire and nails in my quads.

To My Valentine:

I chase orange melting into purple.
A lone bird without a V,
Leaving my nest in the sunrise;
High above the nimbi,
Thousands of miles spread out between us;
Your heartbeat fades into a distant patter,
Mine races in front of me.

This Eagle’s flight cannot take me away from you,
My love expands past the mountains that separate us;
I follow the winding river’s curves,
And they lead me straight back to you.

Dusk settles on the earth below,
But above these white puffs its still morning

And I chase on

To catch the sunset to find my own sunrise.
I yearn for the day
I wake to pink sky with you by my side.

And when night lingers
Outside my windowpane,
And fog rolls in
To cover the valley range,
I will not fear or distress
‘Cause though its not here
In the rolling west,
I know there’s sunrise
In the distant plane
Where my heart is on this Valentine’s Day.

Snippets of Stories 2

The beginning entry of an untitled story I began a few months ago.

It was one of those humid sunny days in late August that tease the senses into thinking summer may just go on forever. Taylor and Paul had been driving in a red Chevy Aveo rental car along Highway126 from Eugene to the west coast for an hour. Paul, in his blue-rimmed sport sunglasses, had the windows down all the way as he drove which blew strands of Taylor’s long brown hair into her face. She brushed away the strands while she studied the road map on her lap and sipped black coffee from her thermos.
Paul played with the radio stations, switching back and forth from the local country station to the classic rock station unable to decide which he’d rather drive to. He knew Taylor hated country, and he wanted to listen it just to spite her. He loved the face she made when she was upset, scrunching up her nose and biting her bottom lip. Sometimes he’d try to rile her up, just to see it, but right now there wasn’t anything good playing on the country station.
They were headed to the Oregon Dunes National Recreation Area for four days of camping, hiking, and if they were brave enough, swimming in the cold Pacific Ocean. Taylor fiddled with the map as she continued to take small sips from her thermos. She peaked at Paul out of the corner of her eye. She was attracted to him; there was no denying herself of that, but now that he was here, physically present with her in car, she turned all shy. Their hours of late night conversations online, weekend texting, and flirtatious emails for the past five months had still not prepared her for what it would be like to physically be with him again.

Snippets of Stories 1

So, there are a lot of stories that I will not post in entirety on here, but rather just share snippets. Here is a section of a story called The Breakdown of Souls that I have been working on for a few years.

Around 5 am the sun came up and shined through the open garage door into the back window of the car. As the car began to heat up, Jen awoke. She groggily grabbed her purse and stumbled out of the car and into the house. The first thing she saw when she opened her bedroom door was his picture on her bulletin board. She fought back tears and crawled into bed, only to find herself staring at a photo of them on her nightstand. He seemed to be smiling through the picture at her. She sighed, rolled over and closed her eyes. She didn’t sleep this time. She lied there until the smell of bacon and eggs crept under her door and to her nose. She wanted to just lie there in bed until he came looking for her and said that he made a mistake and that he wanted her back. Eventually her mother was the one who came looking for her.
“Jen, its 8:15, you need to get up and get ready for work.”
“I’m not going,” she said.
“You’re what?”
“Not going! I’m going to call in sick. I really don’t feel good this morning.”
Her mother walked across the room and put her hand on Jen’s forehead.
“Sick in the middle of July? Well, you don’t feel warm, but your eyes are all puffy and red.”
“Mom, I said I don’t feel well.”
“Are they itchy?”
“Is what itchy?”
“Your eyes. Gosh I hope you don’t have pink eye. What have you touched today? Don’t rub them!”
“Mom, I don’t have pink eye. I’m not feeling well.”
“Have you been drinking? Jen, I tell you, if I find out you were drinking last night, I’ll have you-“
“Mom! No, I haven’t been drinking. I’m just sick, ok! Can’t I just be sick? Why does there always have to be a reason to things for you? Not all things have a reason, Mom. Sometimes bad things happen for no reason. Sometimes unexpected-bad things- they-they happen- for…no…reason…”
Jen’s sentence trailed off into tears. Sandra held her daughter and let her cry for a moment.

Madison Marathon

At the end of my sophomore year of college at the University of Madison, I ran my first marathon. I had not intended to run a marathon that early. I had always told people I would run one after I graduated from college, when I had the time to train. I did not train for my first marathon, though.
Three weeks before the Madison Marathon, my friend Allison came to me for advise on a twenty mile route she could do around town. I had done several out and back loops throughout Madison, and I was able to estimate the distance of many of these routes based on the time it took me to run them. I began explaining a route that she could take, but it was hard because she had never been on most of the streets I was describing. I decided that I would just run the route with her and stop after about two hours, letting her finish the last hour around campus. At this point the longest run of my life was one hour and fourty-five minutes, and I had only done that twice.
The following Saturday morning, I woke up around 7am to eat a peanut butter/ banana/ honey bagel sandwich for breakfast (which to this day has remained my pre-long run meal). Then at 9am, I met Allison and we set out for our run. We ran at a conversational pace, probably nine-minute miles and dropped to 8:30s. I began eating some fruit snacks I brought along after an hour and a half into the run. We jogged in place at all of the stoplights to prove to ourselves we could run for twenty miles straight.
I ended up running the whole route I had plotted with Allison. It took us exactly three hours. When we got back to the dorms and finally stopped running, I felt a pain I had never experienced before. My quads burned, my hip-flexors ached all the way up into my mid-pelvis, and my shoulders, neck, and back were so tight I thought the slightest movement would make a muscle snap. Yet, after completing a twenty mile run with out dying or quitting, I figured I was capable of running a marathon. What was another six miles? So, I signed up for the Madison Marathon.
The semester ended two weeks before the marathon, and I went back to live with my parents over the summer. On race day, I woke up early to eat the same pre twenty miler meal. Then my mom, sister, and I hopped in the car and drove the 26 miles to the capital building. Yes, my home town is the same distance from the starting line as a marathon; the race I was about to run. The car ride made me realize how very long this race was going to be. When we got to Madison, we met up with Allison and her family. I nervously waited in a line to get my race number. All sorts of potential disasters were streaming through my mind. What if I can’t finish? What if I get injured? What if I have to go to the bathroom in the middle of the race? What if I hit the wall? What is the wall? What if I just collapse? All of this worrying made me have to go to the bathroom several times before I walked to the start. Finally it was 7:20, almost time to run. I didn’t do any kind of warm up other than walking. I thought who wants to run before running 26.2 miles? Yet, I saw people warming up all around me. Allison and I stood next to each other at the starting line. We were in a large pack of people, but somewhat towards the front. There I spotted my former high school cross country coach. I had heard he was running Madison Marathon as well, but I was surprised to find him in the crowd of runners. There was something about having my coach there with me that made me a little less nervous, but I still had no idea what I was getting myself into.
The first ten miles flew by. It shocked me to see how many people dove off the course in the first five miles to go to the bathroom. No one was shy about it either. I saw both men and women hiding behind trees and bushes relieving themselves. Allison and I engaged in conversation which helped the time to pass. We ran along side a woman who had run the Disney Land Marathon in Florida the year before. We also caught up to a man who had run a marathon the day before, was running Mad City as a “cool down”, and planned to run Lakeshore Marathon in Chicago the day after (the same race that was a mile too long that year).
Starting about an hour and a half into the race, I began eating and taking water and Gatorade at every other mile. I had brought my own energy snack of fruit snacks and peanut M&M’s. I tried to make sure I was never hungry or thirsty the entire time I was running. The strategy seemed to work pretty well. Allison and I kept up a pretty good pace and we ran together almost the entire way. We reached the twenty mile mark under three hours and realized we must have run over twenty miles on our training run because we were going about the same speed. It was also at this point that I realized the true torture I was putting my body through. We had just gone over one of the bigger hills on the course and I remember asking Allison, “Whose [explicit] idea was this?” Only to have her respond it was mine.
Around mile twenty-two by some miracle, I got a second wind. Allison and I agreed that if one of us felt good, that that person should just go. I took off and got faster with each step. I must have done something right in the first 22 miles of the race because my last 5k felt amazing. I reached the finish in a time of 3:37:31 which was good enough to qualify for the Boston Marathon in my age category.
As soon as I stopped running, the pain swooped in. My quads throbbed and quivered under by body weight as I hobbled out of the finishing area. I saw my former high school cross country coach and we congratulated each other as I waited for Allison to cross the finish. Then, I limped to a port-a-potty and signed up for a free-massage at the massage tent. I reached the point where I couldn’t walk/limp any longer, and I collapsed in the grass while I waited for my massage.
Unfortunately because the Boston Marathon falls on a Monday in April, I was unable to sign up for it. I had too many important classes on Monday and Tuesday that I could not afford to miss. I also thought since I had qualified for the Boston Marathon in my first marathon attempt, I could easily do it again. (I would later find out I was wrong). Training for a marathon takes a good base and a little bit of luck because you never know what kinds of injuries may sneak up on you. I had a good base before deciding to run Mad City and therefore I was able to run well.

Press Release

FOR IMMEADIATE RELEASE


MOVIN’ SHOES HOLDS 4TH ANNUAL FULL MOON RUN

June 20, 2008, Madison, Wis.- Movin’ Shoes will host their fourth annual Full Moon Run on July 17th at Olin Park in Madison, WI. The registration fee for the 5K is $15 and the race starts at 9 p.m. It is open to the first 500 registrants and takes place under the light of the full moon. Kids 12 and under can sign up for the 1K kids fun run for $1 that starts in Olin Park at 8:30 p.m.

Onsite registration begins at Olin Park Shelter at 7pm and ends promptly at 8:30 p.m. The 5K course starts at Bernie’s Beach on Lakeside Street and follows the Monona Bay and Lake Monona bike paths to Olin Park. Rewards and refreshments follow the race from 9:30-10 p.m.

The $15 fee covers sign up, a free pint glass, socks, a bike light, and a raffle ticket. There will be tons of raffle give-a-ways! Post-race refreshments and specialty root beer will also be served. The top male and female in each age category wins either a free pair of shoes, gift certificate, or merchandise. To sign up, you can go online at http://www.movinshoesmadison.com/ or pick up a registration form at Movin’ Shoes.

-more-
Movin’ Shoes Run
Page 2 of 2

For the past four years, Movin’ Shoes has put on the Full Moon Run to benefit the Fit City Madison Programs whose goal is to improve nutrition and increase physical activity among all Madison residents. Movin’ Shoes has been selling running shoes in Madison since 1976. They take pride in being a small independent business and treat each customer that walks in the door as a friend. They sell merchandise for 10-15% below suggested retail and give discounts to teams, clubs, and high school athletes.

For more information contact:
Movin’ Shoes
528 S. Park St.
Madison, WI 53715
(608) 251-0125
www.movinshoesmadison.com

# # #

Grandma's Marathon Article

Published in the Poynette Press.

June 17th, 2006, Minnesota held the 30th anniversary of Grandma’s Marathon. The 26.2 miler starts in Two Harbors and finishes in Duluth. It’s one of the largest marathons in the country, last year ranking the 13th largest in number of finishers. This year, 91 percent humidity at the starting line and temperatures soaring to 77 degrees did not stop 6,909 runners from crossing the finish line. The weather forced 410 runners, more than double the usual amount, to the medical tents and 13 runners to the hospital. Among this year’s finishers was local runner Anna Heintz from Poynette who ran in a time of 4:12:50. This is Anna’s second marathon in the last two years, her first being the Madison Marathon in which she qualified for the Boston Marathon. The unfavorable conditions at Grandma’s will not discourage her from running another marathon in her future, though. She hopes to one day run a marathon in every state. Local runner Kevin Frehner (Poynette) was also among the finishers this year.

Movin' Shoes Article

Published on the Movin' Shoes website and in the Wisconsin Track Club monthly news letter.

Picture this: a small retail store that is operated by runners for runners, known for its great service, anytime return policy, and even lets you run outside in the shoes before you buy them. Imagine a shoe store where no one is on commission, one that is not out to make the most money, and best of all, gives you a 12% discount just because you are a member of WTC. Does this place sound too good to be true? Nope, it’s Movin’ Shoes located on 604 South Park Street, Madison. Movin’ Shoes has always taken pride in supplying the best quality running shoes to its customers for well below retail value. The store hosts community runs, running lectures and even a marathon training class. What more could a runner ask for? Movin’ Shoes opened their first store on State Street back in the fall of 1973. Before this time, the only way to purchase running shoes was by mail order. The owners Roger and Herb each pitched in $500 to start the store and were only open 4 hours a week. They had no register and keep all their money in, what else, a shoe box. Recreational jogging was just becoming a fad and most of their customers were University runners or people who ran in high school. The athletes did not have a very hard time when it came to picking out a shoe because the store only had 3 brands: Blue Ribbon (Nike), New Balance, and Tiger (Asics). And the average price was only $18.95. Roger and Herb also traveled to area high schools and races and sold their shoes out of the back of a van. Each customer was a friend to these men and they knew just about each of their customers by name. In 1976 Movin’ Shoes moved to South Park Street and has remained there ever since. Herb moved out to California and Karl Harter was hired to take his spot and today he owns the store and prides in staying a small independent business. He feels, just like Roger and Herb did, that each person who walks in the door is a friend. Never has Movin’ Shoes sold a shoe for suggested retail and are always 10-15% below this price. They also give discounts to teams, clubs, high school and college athletes. Movin’ Shoes has been a member of the running community from its very beginning. They have sold shoes to Olympians like Suzy Hamliton and Eric Heiden. Also, many talented and famous runners have worked at Movin’ Shoes, for example Olympian Pascal Dobert, Olympic trial finalist Jenelle Deathridge, Olympic trials participant Matt Downin and his brother Andy Downin, the 2001 champion in 1500, and many more. So what’s next for Movin’ Shoes? They are moving to a new location in Summer of 2006. They will still be located on South Park Street(528 S. Park)but now in a bigger and better store that Karl calls “The Movin’ Shoes World Headquarters.” For now though, they continue to be “Madison and Wisconsin's foremost running specialty store and provide shoes, support, and service for all kinds of runners!”For more information about Movin’ Shoes, visit http://movinshoesmadison.com/

Steward of the Land

I wake up at 5 o’clock every morning and leave for work. I get one hour off for breakfast and one hour off for lunch. I come home around 8 P.M. each night. Sometimes 7:30 if things have gone really well. 8:30 or later if they haven’t. I have no say in how much I get paid, and I can never ask for a raise.
I am a dairy farmer
I am not one to go around telling people that I love my job, but that doesn’t mean that I hate it either. It’s the business I grew up in, and the only career I have ever known. My father was a dairy farmer and so was his father before him. I began helping my father as a child. I was driving tractors at age ten and farm trucks at age twelve. I have farmed with my two older brothers all my life. When I was twenty-one and finished with college at the University of Wisconsin-Madison, I officially became an “employee” of Heintz Dairy Farms. My father had decided to retire and my brother Ralph and I took over the family business. Together we decided to make it a partnership and split our income fifty/fifty. On the farm, we each do what we are good at. Ralph does most of the veterinary work along with planting and picking corn. I’m in charge of most of the mechanic work, and I also chop feed, bale hay, disc, and grind feed. My oldest brother Marvin is not part of the milking partnership but he does help us with welding and field work and he raises calves, as well.
All together, my two brothers and I own five farms. We each own our own farm and there are two farms that Ralph and I own together. The “home farm” is where we milk the cows. The other four farms are used for keeping heifers, growing crops, and storing corn, hay, and machinery. Ralph and I each live on one of these farms, separate from the home farm and we commute to work each day. Between us we own 520 acres of land. We use 150 acres for corn, 150 for hay, 100 for pasture, 20 for oats, and the rest is woods and wetlands and is considered wasteland.
When Ralph and I first went into business together, we only milked sixty dairy cows. As time went on and expenses went up, along with the number of children in our families, we needed to increase this number to have a larger income. Today we milk a hundred cows in two shifts of fifty cows twice a day, that is, two shifts at 5:30 A.M. and two shifts at 5:30 P.M. Milking one-hundred cows takes about two hours. There is some prep work to be done before each shift, like feeding the cows and calves, putting the milkers together, and scraping the walkway. There is also cleanup to be done afterward, like cleaning the milk-house, cleaning the milkers, and scraping the walkway again. To some this may sound tedious but it is what I have done for over thirty years. Just like you brush your teeth every morning and every night, you don’t think twice, it’s just something that you have to do. In this case it’s the same six hours of work everyday.
When we aren’t milking cows, we are feeding cattle, doing field work, or fixing things. These activities usually consume my afternoons. On Sundays, though, I take the afternoon off to be with my family and it is a day I look forward to. Farming is a seven-day-a-week, 365-days-a-year job, with no vacations and no sick days. If you do need to take off for some reason, you are responsible for finding replacement. This usually isn’t a problem since my son, Bob, is now old enough to handle most of the milking chores and some of the field work. He’s usually out there helping us anyway these days, but if we need more help, my daughters sometimes even come out and help, with smiles on their faces of course. Ralph’s son has helped out as well, and so have family friends when we’ve needed them in times of emergency, like when Ralph had a heart attack back in 2000. I appreciate the extra help anytime we can get it. It always makes our job go faster. That way, I can get home sooner to be with my family, attend my kids’ sporting events, or possibly get to bed earlier. In the summer, the barn can get very hot. Just imagine days when it’s ninety-five degrees out and you’re packed in a barn with fifty large animals. The heat is horrendous. The sooner I can get the cows milked and get out of there, the happier I am.
As dairy farmers, our cows produce milk that goes into making butter and cheeses. All of our milk is trucked to a co-op dairy in the small town of Alto which is about fifty-five miles away from where we farm in Poynette. Ralph and I get paid twice a month and our check is based upon the amount of milk in our bulk tank and the value of milk at that time. Because milk prices change all of the time, we never know how much we are going to be paid. Milk prices are regulated by cheese and butter prices. We are always watching these prices and budget our spending money accordantly if we know prices are down and our next check is not going to be that big. There have been time the milk prices have been real low, and many dairy farmers that we know have had to go out of business. This is such a frustrating time because you are working just as hard, or even harder to keep the bulk tank is filled to capacity and get the most money that you can, but your income doesn’t reflect this work.
The worst days for a dairy farmer, though, are when there are milking disasters. There have been times when the pipes that carry the milk from the milk machines on the cows to the bulk tank break or get disconnected and all of our milk runs out onto the ground. Your money literally goes down the drain. Or a cow with mastitis (an udder infection) accidentally gets milked and we have to dump everything we have collected if we don’t catch it before it gets mixed in with all the cows’ milk. If this contaminated milk were to slip past inspection and somehow make its way onto the milk truck, all the milk from all of the farms the milk truck has collected from would have to be dumped. If our farm’s milk (about 600 gallons per day) would contaminate the 6,000 gallons on the truck, we would be responsible for paying for the whole load of milk. This is something that very rarely happens though, because all of our milk is tested every time it is picked up and taken from our farm for market. The milk hauler tests it for drugs, water content, bacteria, cell count (a test for mastitis), and butterfat. A milk inspector can come out to our farm without notice at any given time. To stay prepared we must always have a clean milk house and clean barn. This is all part of being subject to state and federal guidelines for producing and selling our milk. One good thing is that we have always been told that our farm has some of the cleanest and safest milk. Up until Ralph’s heart attack, we would always dip jugs into the bulk tank and take raw milk home for our families. We no longer do this because raw milk is so high in fat. Surprisingly, my family and I now drink skim milk, which was very hard to get use to since we once drank the freshest milk you could get.
Even though a person may think, for dairy farmers, spilled milk is the one thing we would cry most over, it is only one of the catastrophes I have faced as a farmer. There have been numerous machinery breakdowns or blown tires in the middle of field work, machinery fires that we couldn’t put out and had to call the fire department to help us (in the middle of field work), and escaping cattle onto country roads where they can get hit or kill someone (this has happen too many times to count, sometimes in the wee hours of the morning and we have to search in the dark until we find all of them and then fix the fence that they broke out of). With farming, you never know what to expect next and you always have to be on top of things and be paying attention. My brothers and I have each had our own personal scares on the farm, cases where we have almost died. Each of us have been chased by a raging bull, kicked by a cow, or have been on a farm vehicle that suddenly caught fire. Ralph once got his wedding ring caught on a piece of equipment and almost had his finger ripped off and had to be taken to the hospital. Marvin has had his jaw broken and the side of his head cut when a jack popped out from under the equipment he was working on and hit him in the face. I have fallen off of a barn roof, experienced short-term memory loss, broke 4 bones in my face, and received over one-hundred stitches. Farming is dangerous job, there’s no denying that, but it is my life. I don’t think about it twice. I just work harder to be more careful by telling people where I will be working and learning from the things that went wrong so they don’t happen again so I’m more prepared the next time they do.
Farming is hard work. Every season there are different things that need to be done at a certain time, in certain weather in order to get the maximum benefits. In the spring we disc, plant corn and oats, spray for weeds, and chop green feed. In the summer we mow, rake, and bale hay, cultivate corn, combine oats, bale straw, and chop green feed. In the fall we pick the corn, chop stocks, chop green feed, chop corn for the silo, and disc. A lot of these activities require rain at specific times for maximum growth. Too much rain will flood the fields or prevent the hay from drying out so it can’t be baled. Not enough rain means the crops won’t grow tall or fully mature. We must also battle with early frosts, hale storms, and high winds. We want to have plenty of crops, hay, and straw harvested so when winter comes we don’t run out. This is why problems with machinery are so frustrating. Most recently our corn picker started on fire and we had to wait a week after the corn was ready to be picked to replace it. This only makes the corn more susceptible to frost and risk of damage. It is devastating to see half a years work go to waste and then have to figure out some way to make up for it to feed the cattle.
For the Heintz’s, farming is a family business. We don’t know any other way of life. Waking at five in the morning is just natural to me. I love farming because I can see the things I accomplish from start to finish, like raising cattle or planting crops. I have a hand in it all and I reap my own rewards. I love the rural life and I always wanted to raise a family in the quiet country life. I never thought about how long I would farm when I took over the farm with my brother. I’m fifty-five now and Ralph is sixty, but I do not see us retiring anytime soon. Ralph’s kids are all grown up, but I’m still putting mine through college and right now milk is paying for that. My youngest son Bob wants to attend UW Madison next fall to study Dairy Science and plans to one day take over the family business. This would be my greatest dream. I would love to see the farm continue on after I retire, but I don’t know if he can do it by himself.
What makes me the saddest right now, though, is to see the loss of farmland to development and other farmers having to go out of business because of low milk prices. There used to be farms all over the Dekorra Township. Now, it is though the dairy farmer is becoming an endangered species. Many people don’t understand farmers and the importance of this life to us. We are stewards of the land. We bring milk, butter, cheese, and yogurt to your tables. We work hard everyday, never knowing how we will be rewarded. Most important of all, we keep tradition alive. I hope the tradition of Heintz Dairy Farms doesn’t end after me.

The Meeting

Robert shuffled slowly down the sidewalk, not making any attempt to avoid the puddles. His sweat pants dragged under his Adidas sneakers, both laces were untied. His head hung under the hood of his sweatshirt and he stared at the sidewalk three feet in front of him. The rain poured down on him making his sweatshirt heavy, but he didn’t care. He saw it was raining when he left his apartment, but he didn’t bother to grab the umbrella from the closet.
Robert rounded the corner and could just make out Donny’s Diner through the downpour. The neon lights of the diner’s sign glared at him and made him feel uneasy. He wanted to turn around, go back to his nice warm bed, sleep off the awful hangover he had. She’d be pissed though. She’d be pissed that he was already twenty minutes late, but if he didn’t show up at all, she’d be really pissed. For a split second he considered the possibility of her wanting to meet him this early because she was breaking up with him. He could faintly remember what the single life felt like. He figured it was soaring like a bird through an endless sky, always flying towards the horizon, towards a sunrise. Dating on the other hand was like falling out of the nest, lying on the ground unable to move; then watching a cat make its way towards you slowing, not knowing if it was going to bite your head off, or just tease you a little bit until you begged for mercy.
Robert reached the door of Donny’s. He tried to look through the diner’s windows to see if he could see her in there sharpening her nails or polishing her gun, but it was too dark inside to make out any images. He took a deep breath, stood up straight, and gave the handle a firm tug.
Inside the diner the air was hot and it reeked of maple syrup. Robert tried to hold his breath, but the smell seeped in through his pores and made him nauseous. A waitress hesitantly approached the drenched man as if he were a wet rat.
“Table…for…one?”
“No, I’m meeting someone.”
His eyes darted around the room and he spotted Sarah at a booth near the window. She was dressed nice, wearing a light pink blouse and black slacks. Her hair was swept up in a clip but a few strands had fallen out and were lying gently on her shoulders. The slight imperfection made Robert feel a little less uneasy as he made his way towards her. He would brush the strands away from her face as they talked; it was an easy excuse to ease the tension that he felt on the phone when she called him at 4:30 am.
“Hey, what’s up?” he said sliding into the booth.
Sarah looked up from her coffee cup that was clutched between both of her sweaty palms.
“You’re late. I said meet me at 9:00.”
Robert knew this was going to be a long morning. He decided to be on the offensive rather than the defensive that way things went more smoothly.
“I know, babe, I’m sorry. What is it you wanted to talk about?”
Sarah stared at him silently. She studied his face, his eyes. Were these eyes of a cheater? Did she even know what the eyes of a cheater looked like? Eyes like his had deceived her before, but she just couldn’t believe they had deceived her again. She glanced back down at her coffee and rubbed her damp hands on her pants.
“Sarah? What’s up?”
That’s what he always said. What’s up? Not, what’s wrong? Not, how are you? Not, baby I’m so sorry for being such an asshole. She looked up at him and met his eyes.
“Where were you last night?”
Direct. Straight to the point. Robert squirmed. He felt the diner’s florescent lights burning his cheeks. He was not in the mood for the 10th degree this morning. Why should she care where he was last night? He’s his own man, he can come and go whenever he pleases. He shouldn’t have to check in with her every time he wants to go out with the guys. She glared at him and he could feel Tiffany’s eyes on him all over again. The thought of breaking up streamed through his mind again. If she kept this up, he’d dump her just like he dumped Tiffany.
“Why do you want to know?”
“Because.”
“Because why?”
“Because, I want to know where you were.”
Robert rolled his eyes. This was going no where. A waitress approached their table hesitantly. She asked Robert if he needed anything.
“A coffee, please. And some toast.”
The waitress nodded quickly and scribbled on her pad. She was young, no older than 17. She was wearing too much eye-shadow and her wrists were covered in colorful string bracelets. Her ponytail bobbed as she nodded.
“Anything else for you ma’am?” she asked Sarah.
“No, I’m fine,” Sarah said without taking her eyes off of Robert.
The waitress scurried off leaving Robert in the hot-seat again. Outside the rain poured down. Robert wished he was back in bed. He rubbed his eyes with the end of the sleeve of his wet sweatshirt that still rested heavily upon his shoulders.
“Sarah, what’s wrong? What did I do?”
“You know what you did,” she hissed.
“No, I don’t. You’re freaking out on me and I have no idea why. Would you just tell me already, I’m sick of this bullshit. Just tell me what I did!”
He had about reached his breaking point and a few people in the restaurant turned to see who was making all the commotion. Sarah rolled her eyes and sat back in the booth. She took a long sip from her coffee cup, never taking her eyes off of Robert.
“I tried to call you last night and you wouldn’t pick up your cell phone.”
“I probably didn’t hear it. Why were you trying to call anyway, you knew I was out with the guys?”
“Until 4:30 this morning, Robert?! I seriously doubt that. You never stay out that late with the guys; you never hang out with the guys. Why are you suddenly hanging out with the guys until 4:30 in the morning?”
Robert felt like he didn’t have to answer her, he didn’t have to deal with this. This was ridiculous. Why was she being like this? So damn difficult. Did he have to call her and check in like he was 16 again? The waitress came back with his coffee. She set it down quickly and mumbled something about his toast being up in a minute. Her pony tale bobbed as she walked away.
“I told you I was going out with the guys last night. You called me on Friday, asked what I was doing and I said going out with the guys. You acted like you were fine with it.”
“I was fine with you going out with the guys.”
“Then what are you upset about?”
“Because I know you lied to me.”
Roberts jaw dropped. He couldn’t believe this conversation was unfolding before him. He literally felt like he was watching a horrible chick flick and wanted to change the channel. What did she think he was doing last night? He watched her fidget with her napkin, ripping it into micro pieces and making a pile to her right. She was no longer staring at him, but concentrating hard on ripping the napkin. Her hands quivered slightly.
They were both silent. Neither one knew what to say. Robert was the first to break the silence.
“What makes you think that I lied to you?”
“I know you lied to me,” she said softly without looking up.
Robert rolled his eyes. Again they were getting no where. He looked up at the clock above the cash register. It was now 9:58. He had been here for over a half an hour and gotten no where. He just wanted to know what was bothering her, fix it, and go home.
“Can you please just spell it out for me, Sarah? I really have no clue what you are talking about.”
“Do you really think I’m that stupid, Robert? That I wouldn’t catch on? You were out with another girl. You think I’m a fool, but I’m not. I’ve been down this road before and I won’t fall for it again! I want to break up.”
She was shaking and tears were streaming down her burning cheeks. Robert stared at her and chuckled. What on earth was she talking about? She had officially lost it. Before he could say anything in his defense, she picked up her umbrella and coat and began to scoot out of the booth. He grabbed her wrist as she was about to stand up.
“You’re making a mistake. I was out with the guys. I had way too much to drink last night and passed out at Dave’s for about an hour before waking up and walking home at 4:00. I’ve never cheated on you, ever. You’re crazy.”
“I’m crazy for trusting you!” She said trying to convince herself at the same time.
“No, you’re not. You were hurt before by someone who cheated on you, but I’m not like that. You know what I’m like. And you know what else you know, I hate being told what to do. I hate having to answer to someone all the time. You told me you were different. Waitress! If you can’t let me be and let me live my life, then I don’t want you to be a part of it.”
The waitress brought over the check and Robert threw four dollars down on the table. He pulled up his hood and slid out of the booth. Outside the rain had diminished to a drizzle, but the wind had picked up. The letter Y on the diner’s sign flickered before going out.

The 4x4 Experience

Published in The Cross Country Journal:


"Take your marks!"
I take three quick jumps, shake out my legs, and do some quick trunk rotations. My heart pounds, my palms sweat, and my right hand struggles to keep its tight grip around the baton. My eyes close and I whisper a silent prayer. Slowly, I bend over and stretch myself into the blocks, first the right leg, then the left. My stomach is doing back flips and I find it difficult to breathe steadily. Once my spikes are in the blocks and secure, I rest my knee on the warm, scabrous, rubber track. I brush the dirt and grit off my hands and place them behind the line. I'm up on the tips of my fingers, still clutching the baton as if the slightest movement of the wind would blow it right out of my hand. Ever so slowly, I lower my head and bring my shoulders forward. I stare at the starting line and try to relax. Now, I wait. “Set!"
The starter raises his hand into the air. At the same time, my body slowly lifts from its rested position. My fingers quiver under the weight placed upon them. All of my muscles are tense, despite my last minute efforts to relax them. I am nervous. My body comes to the full set position. My left leg forms a ninety degree angle. It is my strong leg and prepares to blast me forward, exerting all the force that it can. My right leg is my quick leg and I can feel the muscles in it twitching, yearning to plunge forward. Time seems to have stopped and I think to myself, “Perhaps the starter has forgotten about us?” “Bang!"
As soon as the gunshot hits my ears, my left leg pushes with all its might and my right leg flies forward with tremendous speed. My left arm drives up, forcing me forward. I stay low, building up my acceleration. With each step, my spikes dig deeper into the rubber. When I feel as though I can not dig any more, my body slowly becomes perpendicular with the track. I am all by myself. I don't see anyone in front of me or on my side. I have a feeling of dominance and power. It is only an illusion though, as I continue to sprint around the corner in the furthest lane out.
It suddenly happens. I see a figure out of the corner of my eye and flashes of light as the sun reflects off their silver baton. As we approach the straight away, I can see two more of them. We all run together. I slow my sprint a little, hoping that the rest of the runners are doing the same. We continue to pace with one another until we approach the 200 meter mark. I need to run faster so that I can stay with them around the corner. I pick up my knees and make sure my feet keep short contact with the ground. Thoughts of doubt cross my mind. What if I'm making my move too soon? How much energy do the rest of the runners have? Will I have enough sprint and speed left for last 100 meters? Slowly, I begin overtaking each runner. A feeling of strength washes over me, I am a powerhouse.
Then it hits. My legs suddenly become full of lactic acid and my shoulders tighten up. The excruciating and exhausting pain of sprinting an entire lap suddenly becomes a reality and the only thing on my mind. My legs feel heavy and weak. My heart is beating so rapidly that I swear it will explode right out of my chest. As we come out of the final corner, I know that I will need to pick up the pace even more. I try to focus on the runner beside me. The rest of the runners have fallen back and it's just her and me now.
The finish line is all I can see as I come out of the corner and down the straightaway. This is it, time to give every last ounce of energy left. I surge ahead, sprinting with all of my might. The runner beside me will not back down. This makes me nervous at first, but then I become angry. I have pushed myself too hard to give up now and let her win. At this point, I just want to get this over with. I tell myself over and over in my head, "The faster you run, the faster you are done!” I can now hear the crowd cheering, but I do not have enough energy left to make out what they are saying. Yet, their screams motivate me, and I imagine for a second that they are all cheering for me.
With fifty meters to go, I feel like I no longer control my body, as though it is not mine and I am only a bystander, watching myself run down the track. Through the tears welling up in my eyes, I see my teammate, our second leg, dead ahead in my lane. Her feet are pointed ahead and her left arm is reached back towards me. She is screaming at me, cheering me on, but I can not make out her words. She seems so far away, and I do not feel as though I am getting any closer. The runner beside me begins to pull ahead. Somehow, from somewhere, I find some small ounce of energy to catch back up and pass her. Domination! In my head, I am amused by her effort.
When I am about three meters away from my teammate, she takes off. I now run to catch up to her. I slap the baton into her hand and decelerate. Then, I collapse. I stay in my lane for a few seconds and wait for the rest of the runners to make their exchanges. Then I slowly crawl off the track and lie on my back in the grass. My other teammates run over and force me to stand up. They each have a beaming smile on their face and congratulate me. My coach quickly jogs over to me and gives me my split 1:03, my fastest this year!
It only takes me a minute or two to catch my breath and breathe normally again. Now, I cheer my teammates on. Even though I gave the race my best effort, my part is over and it is now up to them, we have not won yet. I watch our second leg get overtaken and put us back two places. I then watch our third leg overtake her competition and put us back up in first. Each member goes through the same feelings of pain and power that I had felt moments ago. Our last leg, the anchor, has the most pressure on her. We all watch with anticipation. My voice is coarse as I scream to her, "Stay relaxed! Don't let that girl pass you! GO! GO!”
Down the straight away she comes and crosses the finish line in first! Our team rejoices. Hugs of joy and tears of pain and defeat are seen everywhere as I walk over and help my teammate off the track. We make our way over to the team tent and are congratulated by parents, friends, coaches, and fellow teammates on our win. I smile and a sigh of relief washes over me. Yes, I am happy that it's over, and I am happy that we won, but most of all I am happy that for that one minute and three seconds I got the feeling of speed, strength, and power. I got the true 4x400 experience.

Ultimate Fan 2

Published in Inside Wisconsin Sports:


It’s a bird? It’s a plane? No, its Super Fan! Chances are anyone who has ever attended a U.W.-Oshkosh sporting event has seen an older gentleman dancing in the stands during half time, yelling at the players, and slapping hands with UWO athletes as they take the court. He is called the Super Fan. Super Fan amazes UWO students with his super human powers to attend every sporting event, even those happening simontaneously as others. “He'll mention how he really hopes to get to see the gymnastics team perform while still getting to cheer on the runners and fielders on Saturday,” commented Dusty Dorshorst, a runner on the UWO track team. Super Fan doesn’t just stop at sporting events, he also attends music and theatre events. “He's sure to find either the actors or the singers after and tell them how good they were,” stated UWO theatre arts major Carter Wedl.
So who is the Super Fan? His name is Wayne Zwieg, a 1973 graduate from Oshkosh with a radio/TV/film major with an emphasis in speech. Even in his fifties, Zwieg continues to be UWO’s biggest and most prominent fan. “He’s so pumped about any UWO sport. I really think that anyone who has ever been to a UWO sporting event has heard of him,” stated UWO student Katrina Cibulka. Zwieg currently resides in Oshkosh, but commutes to Appleton everyday where he works in the sales department of Pitney Bowes. Occasionally, he will use vacation days to attend UWO road games. He has been spotted cheering on the Titans in Green Bay, Stevens Point, and Whitewater. “He doesn't have to know who you are. If you wear the black and yellow, in his mind, you are worth cheering for,” stated Dorshorst.
Zwieg has also shown his appreciation to athletes in other ways than just cheering and dancing in the stands. He used to present players with personalized poems at the end of the season as a gift. He sometimes goes right down track-side pointing ahead to the finish with one arm while windmilling the other. Super Fan also likes to sit directly behind the score table so he can be close to the opposing team’s fans so they are aware of his presence. The Titans have shown their appreciation for Zwieg too. In the past they have given him autographed apparel and foam seats to make his job a little bit easier. Now he always has something to wear and sit on at the games.
The UWO Titans aren’t Zwieg’s only favorite team to root for. He has Milwaukee Wave season tickets and goes to an occasional Brewers game, as well. His favorite professional football team is the Indianapolis Colts. Athletes can always spot him at chilly football games and cross country meets because he’s wearing his Colts jacket. “He is purely a sports fan in every aspect. Not the kind of stats junky that seems to just watch Sports Center 24/7, but the guy who just loves to be around the action and really encourage athletes,” commented Dorshorst
The Super Fan knows most of the Titans are not on scholarship and compete at UWO purely for the love of the sport, and to him, that is something worth cheering for. Dorshorst summed up Zwieg’s presence with one statement, “He is one of the few people at the sporting events that are not athletes, not coaches or faculty persons, not students, not parents, not news broadcasters. He's just a fan. THE fan.”

Ultimate Fan

Published in Inside Wisconsin Sports:


Occasionally an ultimate fan comes along that really stands out. Perhaps it’s the way a man cheers loudly at every game. Possibly a woman donated a substantial amount of money to the booster club. Maybe a group of students decide to go shirtless at the coldest football game of the year. Chuck and Cinny Reff are a little more subtle in their fan-ship, yet everyone at Lawrence University knows who they are. The Reffs began attending Lawrence athletic events in the fall of 1985, after they moved to Appleton. At first they attended football and basketball games. Today they attend between 45 and 50 Lawrence athletic events a year. They are seen at volleyball, softball, soccer, tennis, baseball, and hockey games, along with cross country, track and swimming meets. One of the Reffs’ favorite athletic events to attend is the women’s crossover softball tournament in Janesville. “This weekend event gives us the opportunity to meet many of the player’s parents, to get to know the players better and to see all of the teams in the North and South conference play,” stated Cinny. The Reffs attend several away games a year, by either driving their own car that sports the license plate “LU Fans”, or by taking a fan bus. They even took an overnight bus to watch the men’s basketball team play in the NCAA playoffs. “One game we will never forget was against Buena Vista in 2004 on our way to the Sweet 16. We got on a fan bus for Storm Lake Iowa at 7am on Saturday and returned to Appleton at 7am on Sunday. It was a long day but worth every minute of the trip to bring home the victory,” stated Chuck.
Attending every sporting event isn’t the only thing that makes the Reffs ultimate fans. Back in the late 80’s when fan attendance at games was much smaller, the Reffs formed friendships in the stands with the wives of the head football and basketball coaches. Over the years, these friendships became more personal and eventually the Reffs were inviting the coaches and their families over for dinners at their home. The coaches introduced the Reffs to players on the team and it wasn’t long before the players were attending dinners at the Reffs’ as well. “People often question why players and coaches are going over to the ‘Reffs’ home for dinner. Ironically, it is our last name and not a conflict of interest,” stated Chuck. Despite the Reffs’ last name, the players have formed a close relationship with Chuck and Cinny that has lasted for years beyond graduation. “It’s amazing to us how many players remember us with hugs and handshakes and still thank us for our support and friendship over the years,” stated Cinny. About seven or eight years ago, Chuck and Cinny began hosting senior dinners for the men’s and women’s basketball teams. They even accommodate players who can’t make it on the specified night on another night. The Reffs also bring caramel chocolate and lemon bars for the teams before their games. They mail articles about the students and athletes from the local newspaper to those parents who live outside of Appleton. In return, the players, coaches and staff have given the Reffs their friendship. “We couldn’t ask for a better group of friends,” stated Cinny
On January 18th, the Reffs were publicly recognized for their outstanding contributions to Lawrence athletics before the men’s basketball game against Grinnell College. Director of Athletics, Robert Beeman, awarded the Reffs the Bob Wurdinger Athletic Service Award. The award was established in the 2006-07 academic year and is named after its first recipient, Bob Wurdinger, a former assistant football coach, who is still advocates LU athletics. It is given to those who are dedicated and provide services to the LU Department of Athletics. “We were extremely flattered, surprised and delighted to win the award. It was really exciting as it was the first award we had received as a couple which made it even more special,” stated Cinny. Even though the Reffs may not be the strangest or the most rambunctious fans, everyone recognizes them at games. “Now people and players that didn’t know us before put a name with our faces. Since that night, many fans have come up and congratulated us as well as many players,” stated Chuck. Only at Lawrence University do you find the players congratulating the ‘Reffs’ on a job well done. For all they do for Lawrence University, Inside Wisconsin Sports recognizes Chuck and Cinny Reff as Ultimate Fans.

Revenge

Ahhh, sweet sweet succulent
Crisp and creamy
Dipped in honey
Drizzled with chocolate
Never tasted so fine
Never smelled so rich

Sweet sweet savor
Filling and satisfying
Caked with sugar
Coated in cinnamon
Never felt so smooth
Never sounded so lite

Bitter bitter burning
Foul and rancid
Lined with doubt
Lingering in fear
Never stayed sweet for long
Never felt so remorseful