Ready on the Red...

Over the span of the past couple of events, we’ve tweaked the start- within the limitations of the technology and mechanics. The pre-course briefing addresses this change, as does this BlogPost.

Specifically, we have eliminated the Christmas tree count down. Under the law of unintended consequences, what was to be the application of Drag Racing starts, we ended up with a sub-plot: guys gaming the reaction time component and risking the false start infraction and a penalty of five seconds. For what? At best, we’re talking about tenths of seconds.

So, now the system has been adjusted to go from staged to green in approximately 1.5 seconds. The positive upshot has been the virtual elimination of false starts. In fact, in Lexington, we had only two instances and they were in races with rookies. The operant word is approximately in that the system is designed to be random, to avoid the gaming component. See previous posts on this subject for a better understanding of track rules on false starts.

In the absence of a pressure switch for 42 pounds, this might be the final solution. Once again, the best way to avoid a penalty is to go on the siren.

If you’d like to be heard on this subject, once again, the best way to communicate is on the Chuck B’s Blog or send me an email directly. It’s our preference to avoid making any changes during the course of  the season; however the response has definitely been in the positive and the results bear this out.

Get A Grip

We’ve picked up a new sponsor, Fox Fire, a company (http://www.mn8products.com) with a ton of innovations, including luminescent helmet bands and paint. One of their products is a wrap for handles of hand tools such as the sledge hammer that we use for the Keiser.

A couple of Competitors asked me about the product. And then, quite a number of others expressed interest in purchasing the grip for their hammers.

We’ve started a topic on Chuck B’s Forum (front page of our website). We’d like to hear from you- what’s your read-out on this product? Fire away!

The FoxFire Grip

I Have Cancer; and Cancer Is Not All I Have (by Jeanie Allen)

July 30th, 2013

I have cancer.

B.F.F. Cheri Ardoin (L) with Jeanie Allen

I also have three freckles on my right wrist in a perfect triangle, and if they were on the inside of my wrist I could press one dot with my index finger and pretend I was Spider-Man shooting his web. 

I have recurrent, extremely rare form of soft tissue sarcoma called Clear Cell Sarcoma. In the other 98% of the dozen or so cases diagnosed around the World every year, the tumors present in a limb. Limbs with tumors can be cut off. My cancer is in my abdomen. I can't cut off my trunk. I've had chunks and parts cut out, but that's the most they can do. There is no known treatment. I have been fighting this disease for over 4 years now. It has reoccurred and metastasized for the second time. It persists despite a slew of traditional and non-traditional attempts for treatment. The medical doctor's best hope is palliative, just seeking to extend my time on this beautiful planet with the best quality of life possible.
I haven't given up on beating this dragon though. Not by a long shot. 

I now also have straight, white and grey 'old lady hair', where a year ago I had long, curly, soft brown hair atop my head; courtesy of six months of a new chemo treatment.
I have three tiny scars on my belly that were accessed twice to remove a baseball sized tumor once, and 15 tumors the second time.

Clarence Parks and Jeanie in Lake Charles

I also have a lean, athletic frame that I love because it lets me move through life with agility and strength. I have startling blue eyes thanks to my Swiss Grandma and parents that people tell me 'pop' in contrast to my old lady hair. 

I have a medical 'Port' implanted in my chest that sticks out like a third tit, but allows easy streaming of drugs, blood and fluids. The tubing is visible through my thin chest wall and I pretend it makes me bionic. 

I have a great job, with co-workers who reach out to me in countless, unexpected, compassionate ways. Sometimes it's a gifted bag of perfumed body lotion and bath oil. Sometimes it's a generous donation of highly valuable vacation time, which allows me to take a paid sick day when I travel out of State for treatment, or am recovering from chemo. It helps keep me current on my health insurance premiums and is a Godsend. Many times it's a hug, or a card, or just checking in and listening to what I have going on. Sometimes it's a meal, when I'm too exhausted from chemo to fix something to feed my zapped body. We've had parties to celebrate, just 'cause, and to let me know, they've got my back. 

I have compromised lung function, damage from past chemo treatment and current tumor growth. It makes it harder to keep up, catch up, and it makes cardio activity a challenge.
It sucks. Literally. Breathing IS one of those mandatory functions. 

I have the best dog partner in the world. She is a 22lb dark fur ball of unbridled love. She is receptive and so darn smart -- playful or cuddly at any time. A fantastic traveling partner, though she'll also jump into any stranger's vehicle just for a ride. She is my constant trusty, protective companion, always by my side. I love every drop of her sneezing, heavy breathing dog breath, every scratch from her paw as she tries to get my attention to wake me up in the morning and wriggle her way on top of me like a lap dog. I love that I get to roll the silken softness of her ear in my fingers and kiss the top of her nose. I love how she presses her cheek into the palm of my hand just for contact and comfort.

I have cancerous cells within my body, spreading throughout my belly, compromising the function of my digestive system; another mandatory, can't-do-without body function. This means chronic pressure and discomfort that never leaves me. The new norm. 

I have two beautiful, courageous, funny, smart, loving children who make my life worth living every single day. They make me laugh, worry, roll my eyes, and feel more pride in who they are and joy in who they are becoming then anything I could've ever imagined. 

I still have my intelligence and creativity that allows me to keep writing -- a hobby that brings me clarity and a way to express my thoughts, for myself, and to share with others.
I am a 46-year-old woman: I have truly incredible amazing parent's, a sister, brother's and close relatives who hurt for me, laugh with me, and seize all life has to offer WITH me.
They are a family that can handle my wildly independent and adventurous ways, somehow knowing how and when I need to be coddled even when I don't understand it myself.
I Crossfit and swim and practice for firefighting competitions. I garden and practice yoga. I eat as healthfully as I can, and try to be conservative with my vices of coffee creamer, wine and chocolate. I love trying new restaurants and taking in new adventures. I love good books and stimulating conversation. I like to sit on the front porch couch in the evenings when it's cooled off, and read and journal or visit with friends. I love to camp and be in nature, the mountains and the trees.

Congratulatory Hug at the Finish Line

I like to clammer out on my rooftop with my kids and watch the sun set with its brilliant summer colors, and chat about our day. 

I have been living with cancer since age 42-- living with the disease, the huge financial costs, the side effects, the treatments, the anguish, the questioning, the unknowns, the adaptations, and the hopes and fears. 

And, I have friends -- great friends. Each offers such special qualities that mold me and make me who I am. They bring such unexpected joy in our connections and appreciation of each other, big and small. They all meld harmoniously into one big lovefest that I can tap into at any time. I have perfect strangers that send me love and light and hope and big pushes every day.

I have no known viable treatment options. Anything tried is at best an experiment. My life depends on the speed of cancer research or a miracle of another kind.

I have faith in a loving God. A God so big and all encompassing I have yet to have a true understanding of all his Power and Grace, so in my humble humanness I do my best to just believe, and to surrender to him. 

This God regularly presents himself in my church family; always uplifting, supportive, compassionate, and IN relationship. 

I have cancer, and I'm eating a peach on the front porch in the cooling evening breeze. 

I have toxic chemotherapy currently working to kill every rapidly dividing cell in my body; but the sound of my kiddo's starting to wind down, the sight of Piper Dawn Doggie chasing her tail trying to get someone to pay attention and play with her, and the everyday normalcy of car doors shutting and neighbors out walking and talking in companionship makes it somehow okay.

I have a good, no a great, no an utterly balls-out fabulous life and more importantly, the capacity to understand its impermanence. Sure, I have some things that I don't need, ahem, cancer, but I have everything I do need. Right here. Right now. I revel in that comfort and wonder how I got it so good.

Sure, I lose perspective. Sometimes I want to scream and bawl and beat my fists into an unknown foe, unsure of how to handle the weight of my fate staring me in the face. But then good days come, and I forget about the cancer, the chemo, the unknown future, for a while, so blinded by the gratitude that I get to be here, to do this, to enjoy this world and the people in it. 

I will soon pick up my Mom at the airport, after traveling 1800 miles to be here. I can't wait to grab her up in my arms and never let her go. And then she will be here to hold my hand during my 8 hr chemo infusion tomorrow. 

I have cancer and I'm eating a peach.

Fairness and False Starts

At the NYSAFC conference in Verona, on Friday, June 14, for the last race, the “Feature Race” of the day, an incident occurred that marred an otherwise nearly flawless competition. This is something that rarely happens: the siren goes off and no one races. Especially at the conclusion of the day’s competition. 

Let’s try to analyze what should have happened and what did happen, with an eye towards eliminating the problem in the future. 

The rules clearly state that you have Six Minutes to complete the course. This did not happen, ergo, both competitors should have been disqualified. That did not happen

The Starter gesticulated that they needed to “Go!” in every possible manner. Not wishing to end the competition on such a down note, especially in front of a large crowd, the racers were allowed another start. This does not happen in elite competitions like the Olympics. In fact, a false start in the track events results in a DQ. 

The big problem is attempting to be “Fair.” It’s subjective. Fairness only exists in the mind of the beholder. There’s no statistical test for fairness. What might have seemed fair to the racers was not at all perceived as fair by the other racers who had no penalty. 

These are the facts:

Now, the racer who false started might strongly hold the opinion that he didn’t foul. And while we don’t review videotapes, in the instant case, it just so happened that our videographer did capture the (actually two) foot movement(s) before the siren. The Starter also correctly observed the foul. 

The non-fouling racer elected not to run.

So, after contemplating the whole situation, there were several options...

1. Let the second attempt’s time stand

2. DQ both racers since the 6 minute clock elapsed

3. Allow them to run again and call it an exhibition

4. Allow them to run again and 5 seconds to both times

As the managing entity, we chose #4. But that call was not immediately made- and that was our “bad.” Not all options are immediately apparent, especially when the rules don’t cover a situation. Clearly, there’s no clear solution that would please everyone. And there’s downsides associated with each choice. 

You might think that after 22 years, we’d have covered every eventuality or permutation in the rules. But, every year, there’s some new twist that shows up. We will be adding a codicil to the rules that will go something like this:

“In no circumstance will a competitor derive a benefit from the violation of a rule.” You may recall that basketball was changed when it was beneficial to foul in the closing minutes of a game.

We also have the absolute right, and a duty to make a judgment at the time that may not be covered by a rule.

There is precedent in sport for changes after the contest. Like when people test positive for drugs and have their title vacated. Or, when there is a protest on the interpretation of the enforcement of a rule. Wind-aided times are cancelled. In this case, we made our best effort to do the right thing. 

This is not a professional sport, but we make every attempt to be professional. Rarely, do we have controversy over referee’s calls. In fact, it’s my opinion that our officiating is consistent and accurate. For those of you who have taken the time to direct your comments to me, thank you for weighing in on the subject.

We appreciate the passion our competitors have for the Challenge and welcome all constructive input from everyone.

In my next BlogSpot, I’m going to discuss the suggestions that we’ve received for the start. It’s my objective to remove the prohibition against any movement of the feet prior to the sounding of the siren. 

It’s a Start

In an effort to provide all of our Challenge competitors with a better understanding of the history, mechanics and rules, I’ve prepared a series of articles that will appear here on the BlogSpot as well as being sent to all the registered competitors in our database. There will be at least four Blog Posts in this series. So, here’s a start (pun intended). 

Three years ago, we significantly modified the race start procedure to remove the subjectivity of ruling on false starts. The compelling reason is that timing technology has advanced with speeds never before thought possible. Previously, ill-fated attempts would be made to recall the racers and restart the race. This had proved to be near impossible since the offending party would be well up the stairs and out of visual or even audible range. 

Computers are much better than humans in recognizing timed events. 

There are a number of sports in which time is the criteria by how the order of finish is determined. Reproduced in the next paragraph is text from Wikipedia. 

In sports, a false start is a movement by a participant before (or in some cases after) being signaled or otherwise permitted by the rules to start. Depending on the sport and the event, a false start can result in immediate disqualification of the athlete from further competition, a warning in which a subsequent false start would result in disqualification, or a penalty against the athlete's or team's field position. False starts are common in racing sports (such as swimming, track, sprinting and motor sports), where differences are made by fractions of a second that often cannot be comprehended by the human mind, and where anxiety to get the best start plays a role in the athletes' behavior. False starts are signalled by firing the starting gun twice.

A race that is started cleanly, on the contrary, is referred to as a fair start or clean start.

“Can’t you stand still for 2 seconds!?”

Sound familiar?

Well, that’s the requirement presently. And apparently, the answer for some is “no.”

In further reflection, it occurred to me that we might have made a mistake by using the NHRA (National Hot Rod Association) start system. You see, by doing so, we’ve imbued many competitors with this idea that like in drag racing, the guy who’s first off the line is likely to be the winner. Makes perfect sense when you consider the E.T.s for quarter mile races. But we’re not an event like NHRA Drag racing or the 100m sprint with a 9 second elapsed time. We’re a race event that more like 10 times 9 = 90 seconds or longer. 

So, by using a Christmas tree start system, we actually encourage our racers to see how fast they can react to the visual (not the audible) signal. So, get this: in track if you moved within .1 second after the firing of the gun, you’ve false started. The rationale is that humans cannot process information any faster than .1 seconds. So, clearly, you had to be moving before the actual start. The result is disqualification. This has pretty much eliminated the “gaming” of the start in track events. Not so for us. There seems to be a disproportionate focus on the reaction time to the light (versus the siren) in an attempt to get the fastest start.

So, we‘ve asked this question continuously, “Why would you risk a five-second penalty to gain- what, a .5 second benefit in a race that lasts up to two minutes?” 

The Auto-Start feature did accomplish what we had hoped it would: the referee’s judgment was replaced by precision from a computer. But, competitors continue to believe that they have been treated unfairly when they get a red light. No one is ever guilty. And we seemingly can’t shake the idea that the outcome of the race is not decided by who’s off the line first. With 90-120 seconds to play with, there are a lot of other places where significant time can be made up, versus the milliseconds of gaming the start.

In our beta testing of the current start system, we had a number of athletes who false started and were incredulous that they had moved. Not until they were shown the video tape did they realize their fidgeting before the green light was sensed by the pressure pads.

In my next posting, I’m going to discuss what happened in Verona, at the New York Association of Fire Chief’s Annual Convention, the application of the rules, and the implications for the future.

Drivers: Start Your Engines...Days of Thunder

The Charlotte Coca-Cola 600 (May 26) was my first NASCAR event. It was also the first time that the Firefighter Combat Challenge® visited a motor-sports event. I have to admit that I approached this venue with some degree of aloofness. Sharing 2,000 acres of real estate with about 250,000 somewhat inebriated rednecks was not exactly my first choice for the Memorial Day weekend. But, our presenting sponsor, LiftMaster (the garage door opener/control people) were paying and the prospects of large crowds were enticing. 

We were staged just outside of Gate 16 on a nearly perfectly flat asphalt pad that had been used in prior years by Dodge as well as some errant donut burners- as evidenced by the black burnouts decorating the pavement. The weather was spectacular and the crowds enthusiastic. Pit crews from some of the race cars participated in our event, as did a team of Wounded Warriors who were playing in a softball tournament on Memorial Day. 

A foreboding sense of what awaited us inside as the cars were running tune-up laps only a few hundred meters away. Already the noise levels were permeating the ambiance of our competition- not that we don't create our own cacophony, but not like being on the approach glide path of incoming F-15s. 

View of a NASCAR Car Hauler and Support Trailer

We caught the History 300 on the 25th; but the big event, NASCAR’s longest race turned out to be a real treat. The Chief of Staff of the Air Force, 3 Medal of Honorees, Chairman of the Coca-Cola Board, the 82nd Airborne Chorus, LtCol Oliver North, Governors, Senators, Congressman, were all on the dais.  I’m still attempting to rap my head around the notion of the Duck Dynasty “Star” giving the invocation. 

Robin Meade did a great job with the National Anthem. Some 70 y.o. airframes - P-51 Mustangs did a fly over. And the biggest US flag you’ve ever seen was unfurled. 

The events of the weekend culminated with some great races and we retired to the Luxury Skybox Suite of LiftMaster- a great place from which to watch the action in air-conditioned comfort. But the best part was the HOT pass and the time in the pits. 

Here’s a video link to give you an idea of the excitement. I sat in upper level of the Cart and watched the “physiology” of the #1 car. All of this was absolutely fascinating. 

http://youtu.be/ybbwoGBICYU

The view of the Coca-Cola 600 from the LiftMaster Skybox

The #1 Car’s “Physiology” is monitored remotely by computer

James Doolittle and the Raiders

By Bob Greene CNN Contributor 

It's the cup of brandy no one wants to drink.

On Tuesday, in Fort Walton Beach, Florida, the surviving Doolittle Raiders gathered publicly for the last time.

They once were among the most universally admired and revered men in the United States. There were 80 of the Raiders in April 1942, when they carried out one of the most courageous and heart-stirring military operations in this nation's history. The mere mention of their unit's name, in those years, would bring tears to the eyes of grateful Americans.

Now only four survive.

After Japan's attack on Pearl Harbor, with the United States reeling and wounded, something dramatic was needed to turn the war effort around. Even though there were no friendly airfields close enough to Japan for the United States to launch a retaliation, a daring plan was devised. Sixteen B-25s were modified so that they could take off from the deck of an aircraft carrier. This had never been tried before -- sending big, heavy bombers from a carrier.

The 16 five-man crews, under the command of Lt. Col. James Doolittle, who himself flew the lead plane off the USS Hornet, knew that they would not be able to return to the carrier. They would have to hit Japan and then hope to make it to China for a safe landing.

But on the day of the raid, the Japanese navy caught sight of the carrier. The Raiders were told that they would have to take off from much farther out in the Pacific than they had counted on. They were told that because of this they would not have enough fuel to make it to safety.

And those men went anyway.

They bombed Tokyo, and then flew as far as they could. Four planes crash-landed; 11 more crews bailed out, and three of the Raiders died. Eight more were captured; three were executed. Another died of starvation in a Japanese prison camp. One crew made it to Russia.

The Doolittle Raid sent a message from the United States to its enemies, and to the rest of the world:

We will fight. And, no matter what it takes, we will win.

Of the 80 Raiders, 62 survived the war. They were celebrated as national heroes, models of bravery. Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer produced a motion picture based on the raid; "Thirty Seconds Over Tokyo," starring Spencer Tracy and Van Johnson, was a patriotic and emotional box-office hit, and the phrase became part of the national lexicon. In the movie-theater previews for the film, MGM proclaimed that it was presenting the story "with supreme pride."

Beginning in 1946, the surviving Raiders have held a reunion each April, to commemorate the mission. The reunion is in a different city each year. In 1959, the city of Tucson, Arizona, as a gesture of respect and gratitude, presented the Doolittle Raiders with a set of 80 silver goblets. Each goblet was engraved with the name of a Raider.

Every year, a wooden display case bearing all 80 goblets is transported to the reunion city. Each time a Raider passes away, his goblet is turned upside down in the case at the next reunion, as his old friends bear solemn witness.

Also in the wooden case is a bottle of 1896 Hennessy Very Special cognac. The year is not happenstance: 1896 was when Jimmy Doolittle was born.

There has always been a plan: When there are only two surviving Raiders, they would open the bottle, at last drink from it, and toast their comrades who preceded them in death.

As 2013 began, there were five living Raiders; then, in February, Tom Griffin passed away at age 96.

What a man he was. After bailing out of his plane over a mountainous Chinese forest after the Tokyo raid, he became ill with malaria, and almost died. When he recovered, he was sent to Europe to fly more combat missions. He was shot down, captured, and spent 22 months in a German prisoner of war camp.

The selflessness of these men ... there was a passage in the Cincinnati Enquirer obituary for Mr. Griffin that, on the surface, had nothing to do with the war, but that captures the depth of his sense of duty and devotion:

"When his wife became ill and needed to go into a nursing home, he visited her every day. He walked from his house to the nursing home, fed his wife and at the end of the day brought home her clothes. At night, he washed and ironed her clothes. Then he walked them up to her room the next morning. He did that for three years until her death in 2005."

So now, out of the original 80, only four Raiders remain: Dick Cole (Doolittle's co-pilot on the Tokyo raid), Robert Hite, Edward Saylor and David Thatcher. All are in their 90s. They have decided that there are too few of them for the public reunions to continue.

The events in Fort Walton Beach this week will mark the end. It has come full circle; Florida's nearby Eglin Field was where the Raiders trained in secrecy for the Tokyo mission.

The town is planning to do all it can to honor the men: a six-day celebration of their valor, including luncheons, a dinner and a parade.

Do the men ever wonder if those of us for whom they helped save the country have tended to it in a way that is worthy of their sacrifice? They don't talk about that, at least not around other people. But if you find yourself near Fort Walton Beach this week, and if you should encounter any of the Raiders, you might want to offer them a word of thanks. I can tell you from firsthand observation that they appreciate hearing that they are remembered.

The men have decided that after this final public reunion they will wait until a later date -- some time this year -- to get together once more, informally and in absolute privacy. That is when they will open the bottle of brandy. The years are flowing by too swiftly now; they are not going to wait until there are only two of them.

They will fill the four remaining upturned goblets.

And raise them in a toast to those who are gone.