Sports

Teacup Nordic ski area on a perfect winter day

(Click on each photo to see a larger picture on a separate picture page.)

After weeks of planning to cross country ski, I finally did it. I am a bit tired, but feel alive.

Though I now roller ski every week, it is not the same as skiing on snow. There is nothing that compares to Nordic skiing on fresh snow. The workouts are always deeply fulfilling, and I can eat voluminous amounts of food when I am done.

For Nordic skiers of the world, this also is the time of year to Nordic ski the world over, in places where one can ski.

February and the first half of March is when the biggest ski races in the world happen for amateur skiers: the American Birkebeiner in northern Wisconsin at the end of February, the Birkebeinerrennet in central Norway in mid-March, and the biggest, the Vasaloppet races in central Sweden, at the end of February and first weekend of March. I was allowing myself the guilty pleasure of watching videos of these races from past years, but without getting out myself. I grew envious of Swedes and Norwegians who can ski all the time most of the winter. Me, I get wet this time of year, roller skiing in the rain or drizzle in Portland.

Cross-country skiing that is accessible from my home is fickle at best during the winter, and now more unpredictable with climate change disrupting winter weather in my region. The closest ski area is 75 miles away, on Mt. Hood, at a spot called Teacup, on the east face of the mountain. It is pretty, but it mostly has a lot of big descents and big climbs instead of long, flat straightaways. It is nothing like my fun ski life I had in Anchorage, from 2004 to 2010, where I could literally strap on skis and walk 100 feet to a shared used trail on most winter days.

Alas, all the ski videos got the best of me. I was antsy to get to the snow. Then we had a good new dump with consistently cold temperatures to make the drive to Mt. Hood worth it on March 5, 2023.

It was nice to finally skate ski again after 13 months of not being on a trail since my last trip to the Methow Valley. I miss being able to do it often, like I could in Alaska. My 150-mile round trip took four hours, involving some white outs, rain mixed with snow, and icy roads. It was a reminder to me why I may do it only once a year in Oregon and why I stick to roller skiing, which I can do any day of the year.

Yes, I do miss that snow. I am proud to say I face planted my first 10 yards today. I was so used to my roller ski balance I was unready for snow. Quickly, I found my muscle memory and soon was off for nearly three hours of looping the descents and long, lung-busting climbs. I saw nearly 50 cars and a lot of people out. Unfortunately, none of us saw Mt. Hood, which was mostly hidden in the clouds.

I want to give credit to the group that maintains the 24 km of trails here, on the Mt. Hood National Forest, called Teacup Nordic. It is a nonprofit that promotes nature, cross-country skiing, and healthy lifestyles encouraged by outdoor sports.  The group is a mostly volunteer-powered. They run the venue and produce programs for kids, families, and adults. They do a good job. On many days, I Iike to see the morning photo of the trail groomer of the Nordic trails he’s groomed, telling skiers about conditions. It is a bright spot when all I see is rain in Portland. Thinking of a snowy trail still makes me smile!

Swimming Is Silenced

 

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I live about a half mile from the Sellwood Outdoor Pool. It’s a public swimming pool located in Portland, Oregon’s Sellwood Park that is loved almost to death by its patrons.

During a normal summer, it would be filled to capacity with screaming kids and their parents, many who are lower income, as public pools remain one of the most affordable ways to entertain kids and keep them healthy in Portland and most U.S. cities.

On a typical summer night, I used to pass by the pool and hear the kids’ yells, screams, shouts, and general pool noises kids make when they were being themselves in water. But not this summer.

The City of Portland, like nearly all major cities in the country, shuttered its public pools in the spring to prevent congregant spreading of COVID-19. This decision makes public health and human health sense. From the perspective of physical, social, and mental health, it represents a cruel outcome of the mismanaged national response that leads all the way to the situation room with President Donald Trump as the one who helped make our country’s pandemic the most lethal and worst managed in the world.

We are heading into Labor Day Weekend now. In normal times, the pool would still be open in the evenings and all weekend, particularly with temperatures predicted to be hotter than 90 Fahrenheit through Labor Day. The kids will have to find something else to do this year, and they will lose the chance to be kids and learn how to swim.

Closed pools and closed schools are taking on an air of dystopian reality, which we have seen created in unnerving films like Alfonso Cuarón’s 2006 thriller Children of Men, where a strange disease had rendered humanity sterile, leading to all schools being shuttered because they no longer served any purpose. Oddly that film’s tension, pitting radical leftists fighting a right wing autocracy, seem to have predicted the spectacle in Portland. The people in the film even resemble the protesters here and the police forces that have engaged them in Portland for more than three months.

I am not fully confident we will be out of this pandemic by next summer. Even with the optimistic timelines given by the United States’ more credible infectious disease experts like Dr. Anthony Fauci, returning to normal is no guarantee by next summer. Right now I do not believe the pool will open next summer.

For me, the posted sign by Portland Parks and Recreation is another naïve promise that we will get back to normal, when everything going on now is entirely abnormal. The professed optimism almost seems insulting with the silence.

Being Jackie Chan

Jackie Chan meets with a fan at a book signing in Seattle (1999).

“In the pantheon of movie action heroes, there is only one true god, and his name is Jackie Chan.”

—The Washington Post, 1998

When I found myself deep in the bush in northern Uganda in June 1997, a 12-hour bus ride from the nearest city, I had one of those memorable conversations that can only happen with people from different cultures and life experiences.

I sat outside of my darkened guest house, under a star-filled sky, talking with a young man. We had just met and were trying to learn what we had in common. We instantly found a shared love: Hong Kong action films starring Jackie Chan.

He couldn’t believe that I knew about the Hong Kong film star, or that I had favorite Chan films and even favorite Chan action sequences. We laughed and formed a memorable, short-lived bond because of the artistry of perhaps the world’s most famous action star and Hong Kong-native, Chan. We both loved him because he spoke a universal language on film that blended action, dance, grace, and physical comedy.

At that time, Chan already was a bona fide celebrity, having made dozens of Hong Kong action films few Americans had ever seen. Those films set the standard for physical comedy, death-defying stunts, and creative genius in a genre I can only describe by calling it Jackie Chan cinema.

My favorite of his actioners is the 1994 classic Drunken Master 2, which assembled some of the most elaborate stunt work I have ever seen.

As with all of Chan’s films, he did his own stunts and racked up countless broken bones and even near-death experiences.

In a Chan film, you can feel the brutality of a fall, the smack of a blunt weapon on the back, and the sweat falling off an actor’s face as a fist cracks their jaw. One of the funnest choreographed set pieces I adore comes from his 2003 Owen Wilson buddy flick set in Victorian England, called Shanghai Knights. In one scene, Chan riffs on Gene Kelly’s graceful dancing, using the Singing in the Rain soundtrack, as he escapes a gang of English ruffians with a deft touch that the great Kelly would adore.

Finally Meeting my Favorite Action Hero in the Flesh

A year after my trip, in 1998, Chan burst into the lives of American filmgoers with his buddy action comedy Rush Hour, co-starring Chris Rock. Since that time, Chan has continued to crank out films at a furious pace, and continued to get injured and trash his body as only Chan can.

In 1999, I finally saw my film icon for my first and only time at a book signing at a Seattle shopping center. That is where I snapped this photograph. There were hundreds of fans, waiting in line to see their beloved action star and have him sign a copy of his semi-autobiographic memoir, I Am Jackie Chan. The intensity of the adoration astounded me. I could suddenly understand why a young man in Uganda felt that personal connection.

To a filmgoer, Chan provides a guaranteed promise of pure cinematic escapism. The plots, outside of his earlier kung fu genre pieces, are flimsy at best. The films mostly provide a vehicle for him to cleverly battle his foes, improvise escapes from impossible closed spaces, experience immense physical pain, and somehow save the little guy. Anyone who sees a Chan film knows that Chan has beat himself up for all of them and is fighting just for them as he gets pummeled by bad guys in all directions, before he manages to limp away and escape.

A Star Is Trained

Chan likely draws from the deep well of his own tough experiences  being born in poverty, in 1954, in gritty and bustling Hong Kong.

A new Chan memoir just came out, Never Grow Up. The co-written tome provides insights into the cruelty of his brutal childhood and teenage apprenticeship and growing up poor in the former British colony. When he was 7 years old, Chan’s parents placed him in the China Drama Academy, a facility that cranked out performers for Peking operas and other popular acrobatic shows. Left by his parents who went to Australia, Chan was signed up for a 10-year “contract” that more resembled old-fashioned indentured servitude.

According to a story about his memoir in The New Republic, his formative years, were stark and brutal: “For ten years, Chan trained all day long, from 5 a.m. to 11 p.m., with breaks for lunch and dinner. Along with the other boys, he slept on a thin mat, on a carpet encrusted with sweat, spit, and piss. When he misbehaved, he was beaten with canes; when he fell ill, he was told to suck it up and keep practicing his kung fu.”

It was during that time that star we love as Jackie Chan became that Jackie Chan, through the process that only comes from intense study.

The same story notes the China Drama Academy helped blaze the trail for Chan’s success in three ways. It created lifelong friendships with fellow action stars like Sammo Hung, who helped out Chan in his early films and later co-starred with him. It gave him the skills for stunt work and martial arts, which was the currency of the Hong Kong film industry when Chan came of age in the 1970s and later. It also “turned his body into an instrument that could withstand ungodly amounts of pain.”

That pain is nowhere to be found in this picture I snapped above. I remember a feeling of elation that I finally met a man who spoke a universal language that can bring together people around the world, rooting for the underdog, who always manages to escape calamity with cosmic luck, his fast fists, and the will power to win.

A World Cup final to remember!

Antoine Griezmann takes PK after a quesitionable call.
Toffee Club, final World Cup match, July 15, 2018
Fans react as Croatia scores its first goal.
An outdoor screen was put up outside of the Toffee Club for the France-Croatia match in the 2018 World Cup final.
French and Croatian flags.
Fans catch the action on the outdoor screen at the final game of the World Cup on July 15, 2018, at the Toffee Club in Portland.
Rudy and fellow cup lover Dylan before the match.
Kylian Mbappe puts France up 4-1.
The agony of allowing Kylian Mbappe to score.
Toffee Club, final World Cup match, July 15, 2018
Victory hug for Kylian and Didier.
Victoire pour la France!
It was mostly pro-French at the Toffee Club for the final game on July 15, 2018.

(Click on each photo to see a larger picture on a separate picture page.)

At last, the World Cup drew to a close with a brilliant final game between tournament favorite France and scrappy but talented Croatia on July 15, 2018. It was the most exciting final World Cup match I’ve ever seen, and I haven’t missed one since 1982.

Both sides attacked, though France had far less possession, and for much of the game it seemed as if Croatia was the dominant team. In the end, France broke the Croatian defense on two fast-break attacks that saw superstars Paul Pogba and the new wunderkind, 19-year-old Kylian Mbappé, each score nice goals in the second half.

The best goal of the match, beyond question, was the 1-1 equalizer by Ivan Parisec, shortly after France went up 1-0 after an own goal by Croatian star Mario Mandzukic. The Juventus player, Mandzukic, redeemed himself brilliantly sneaking in a goal due to terrible goalkeeping clearance by the French keeper Hugo Lloris that put the score at 4-2.

Putin Can Claim Victory too

The entire proceedings went oddly off-track when members of the Russian protest music group Pussy Riot invaded the pitch in the second half, causing looks of confusion by everyone. They were dragged off the field with no comment from the broadcasters, who were mostly tongue-tied.

The protest was seen by easily more than a billion people, putting a measurable chink in the tournament that Russian president Vladimir Putin organized to show the world his style of authoritarianism is a preferred alternative to democratic nations in Europe and North America. In many ways, Putin’s Russia was the real winner of the 2018 World Cup, having earned favorable press from the international media and visitors since mid-June.

The BBC noted two days before the final game, “A successful World Cup does not change the trend: in recent years democracy, human rights and freedom of speech in Russia have been under attack. An increasingly belligerent Russia annexed Crimea and has intervened militarily in eastern Ukraine. Russia stands accused of cyber attacks, of meddling in western elections and of carrying out the Novichok nerve agent attack in Salisbury.”

My Month-long Cup Indulgence Ends

Since mid-June, I have enjoyed many great games during the cup at the Toffee Club, which is where these shots were taken. They closed a block of SE 10th Street, created a beer garden for morning drinkers, put up a big screen TV, and replicated what most of Europe and other parts of the world do when the World Cup is playing.

I joined a work colleague, his French wife, and friend. Most of the fan base was leaning French. We had a blast, and the game offered plenty of reasons to celebrate both teams.

I found many of the French fans there a little too pretty and too precious. It may have been a class issue? Maybe they spent their summer holidays in France? But they likely have nothing in common with the mostly poor and scrappy French players who trace origins to Africa and who grew up in the poorer Parisian suburbs.

Personally, I missed the vitality I always have found with Brazilians, Argentines, Mexicans, and other nationalities of the Americas that I have watched cup finals with. There were no drums. There were no whistles. There was no dancing.

It’s sad to see it end, but the Women’s World Cup is only a year away. That should be great too.

Winter surfing in Oregon

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Oregon’s winter surfing season has arrived. That means one often puts on a wetsuit when it is below freezing outside and enters the cold Pacific Ocean when most people are bundled up in mittens and hats.

That never stops Oregon surfers, at least at Seaside.

Despite a persistent shoulder injury, I made three trips this month.  I need to hold off on future outings for a while until this stubborn problem is healed.

I took these shots on Dec. 23 and 31, 2017. Both were exceptionally mild days at this popular surfing spot. I counted more than 40 surfers in the waves both times.

I love that this crew of men and women are not fazed by the cold. All one needs is the right attitude, the right wetsuit (at least a 5/4/3 or 5/4), booties, and gloves. The rest is up to the pure, divine energy pumping in from the ocean’s depth to the sands of Oregon.

I hope everyone finds the right wave in 2018 and shares the stoke, no matter where they are.

Seaside, Oregon surfing on a windy summer day

Seaside, Oregon is my favorite surfing beach in the state. It is less than 90 miles from my home in Portland. It has a consistent break, usually better than most other beaches that are driving distance from Portland. Mostly the vibe at Seaside is relaxed, and the community of surfers who share the beach are welcoming to most levels. There is space for advanced surfers and novices, so long as the novices stay out of the lineup. Some locals may not want beginners here. You have been warned.

I mastered the craft of Oregon surfing at this beach, logging many winter hours in the pounding surf. Only recently have I felt I belong in the lineup.

Most of the surfing websites that describe Seaside Cove accurately note the hazards are rips, rocks, locals, and sharks. And the order of danger is probably in that order. In the winter, the waves can hit well over 10 to 15 feet. In the summer, because of the northwest exposure, sets can easily top five to seven feet.

These scenes capture a choppy, mushy day that I mostly associate with winter and shoulder seasons, but it was mid-August. There is often little break time between the sets, and if you do not ride the rip out to the lineup, you will be pounded pretty hard.

The footage, admittedly shaky, captures how rough the surf can be, with nonstop sets and overheads, even on a summer day. If you are a surfer and want to visit Oregon, put this beach on your list. Support the local economy while you are there. Share the aloha and the Oregon surfer stoke. You will find many good rides.

Just be sure to bring a 5/4/3 suit. The water has very little temperature variation between summer and winter.

Living and loving the life aquatic

(Rudy Owens, in one of his favorite environments, doing one his favorite things–lap swimming)

I am a swimmer. I have swum my whole life, but it was not until I had some bad running injuries, when I became a serious endurance athlete, that I found my rhythm and place in the pool.

Swimming is one of the best forms of exercise for people of all ages. It has virtually no harmful impact on any part of the body, except perhaps the shoulders. Otherwise it is low-impact. It boosts lung capacity and one’s capacities in every sport. It is also one of the finest ways to meditate and clean one’s mind.

As I become a more proficient swimmer, I love that my lap swimming can now be seen as surf training, helping me become a stronger surfer. Surfing requires conditioning that only swimming can provide. It is a perfect match for this stage in my life.

I love seeing people in their 80s swim. It gives me hope I have decades left to enjoy staying healthy and active.

Cleaning off the bad stuff with a final 2016 surf

Today, I surfed at a location called the Needles, located at Cannon Beach. This upscale coastal community is about 85 miles northwest of Portland. Most of the miles-long beach is un-surfable, offering no coves. Rock formations at the Needles offer some slightly more stable sets, but not by much.

Let’s be clear. It’s rough, Northwest chop. You have to get hammered by constant waves to get to the point where they break. Today, the forecast predicted calmer waves before 10 a.m., then wind. Except for the first 30 minutes after I arrived around 8 a.m., it was all chop. That did not stop me. I donned my 5/4/3 wetsuit in 28 F temperatures and headed out with a grin.

I had a lovely time. I actually caught some nice rides, riding the foam crests. I had upped my skills to a new plateau–I finally felt I had mastered a few basic moves to give me a decent ride with all of the waves I caught. Best of all, I entertained onlookers with my mediocre abilities. I don’t think they realized how warm I was in my seal suit. I hope they were amused and considered trying surfing themselves later.

I had wanted to surf here for more than 33 years, since the first time I came as a college student. I finally did it. It was a great way to end the year. All that was bad was rinsed off my skin and cleaned from my spirit. I again felt renewed and ready for the challenges that await in 2017. There will be many–and today I will not think of them.

Have a happy New Year and a peaceful and prosperous 2017, everyone.

GoPro surfing fetishism, with loving affection

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I own a GoPro Hero3, and I love it. It was inevitable I had to buy the GoPro surfboard mount once I owned a surfboard. Last weekend I tried it out when I went to “shark attack” beach, otherwise know as Indian Beach, in Ecola State Park. I went with my surfing Sensei, Sean, who has slowly introduced me to this wonderful sport. Aside from likely cracking one or more ribs, it was a fabulous day (that injury really blew a hole in vacation I just cancelled).

The videos I took have that hilarious GoPro quality of chaos. The board is being tossed around as waves hit, I’m going under foam, the camera goes underwater and blacks out. Most of the time I filmed myself holding on the the board trying to avoid junk waves, because it was a lousy day. I did capture some fun short foam wave rides. I also laughed at how my face scrunched up as a I paddled to get the wave. So I have a lot of B-roll junk video that is very awful. I won’t share that. However, I was able to extract some fun images that only a GoPro can capture with a fisheye lens view, showing the beauty of the moment when waves and water engulf you. It is one reason why I love GoPros. They tell stories beautifully, and I love to tell stories with them.

I played with some settings in post-production and produced these photos. They have a painterly quality I like. This is so much better than another GoPro surf video.

I also was inspired by some hilarious mockumentary videos of GoPro surfing fetishism in southern California. I laughed a lot watching these, because I had captured all of these scenes, minus extreme surfing localism that permeates surf culture globally. This one shows localism gone awry to the Game of Thrones soundtrack (LOL) and this one how many surfers tell their stories to the world, when they really are not that great. Both are published by The Inertia. GoPros used right can also create lovely works of beauty, which also show just how wild dropping-in can be when surfing etiquette gets tossed, often leading to confrontations at the beach. It is all part of the sport, and you have to live with it and accept it.

 

Swimming, great for the mind and body

I am a swimmer. Because of a persistent shoulder injury, called scapular displacement, I am unable to swim as much as I used to. But I go at least once a week. It is one of the best activities for one’s body. It allows the mind to filter out one’s problems and focus. It promotes health and fitness. It loosens tight lower back muscles. As one former Olympics swimmer and gold medalist Janet Evans notes: “Swimming is the ultimate all-in-one fitness package, working most muscles in the body in a variety of ways with every stroke. When strokes are performed correctly, the muscles lengthen and increase in flexibility. The significant repetition of strokes improves muscle endurance, and because water creates more resistance against the body than air does in land exercise, the muscles are strengthened and toned. Swimming also significantly enhances core strength, which is important to overall health and stability in everyday life. The hip, back, and abdominal muscles are crucial to moving through the water effectively and efficiently. Swimming builds these core muscles better than any abs video or gadget advertised on television. Finally, a properly structured swim workout provides incredible improvements to the cardiovascular system. The nature of breathing when swimming-with breath being somewhat limited in volume and frequency-promotes greater lung capacity and a consistent intake of oxygen. Both aerobic and anaerobic gains can be made in the same workout.”

These are shots I took at an open water swim event at Lake Meridian, in Kent, Washington, in 2012. Some very fit, hyper-competitive athletes were in this group. Most mere mortals can benefit from going to a local pools once or more a week. If you have not taken up swimming, try it out. Go slow. Give it time. It took me about 25 times before I finally switched from hating doing laps to loving my trips to the pool. Like all good things, it takes time.