Craziness

Pure craziness.

That’s how this week has been.

After last Saturday night’s 20-mile RUTS, we headed back to the room.  The next day we were planning on running a local 5K; seriously, who can pass up a 5K put on by the local brew house?  Well, we did.  Too much going on.  A quick visit and farewell with some friends, then back to the room to finish packing.

Monday was quite hectic, with picking up the rental beast (Suburban), loading it up, then heading to work to finalize some things.  Then the drive towards Atlanta.  We had no plans on making it all the way to Atlanta, but as we got to where we planned on spending the night, we realized that we had just about an hour more of light traffic ahead of us, instead of 90+ minutes of morning traffic headed in to the city.  

Tuesday was the big day.  Thanks to some poor timing with turning the rental beast in at the airport, we had eight hours to spend in the airport before takeoff.  But we had a good time, sitting back and watching everyone walk by and gaze into Skinny’s travel kennel.  He made lots of friends.  One the airline counter opened a few hours before takeoff, we made sure Skinny was fed, walked and evacuated before we checked in.  It was nerve-wracking turning him over to the airline, but he seemed to be taking it in stride.

The flight on Lufthansa was fairly nice.  It was a bit interesting, being only two days after the loss of the Air France flight, there were some nervous folks.  Especially when we hit some turbulence over New York.  But none were worse for wear. 

We got to Frankfurt, anxious to see how Skinny did.  He came out on the conveyer belt and didn’t look any different than he did any other day.  After about 12 hours in the box, he was happy to get out and walk around, which was the only way we were going to get him out of the baggage check area.  There’s just no way that Goddess and I could pick up the crate with him in it.

The rest of Wednesday we fought to stay awake as long as we could.  That happened to be 8pm, which is about 90 minutes before sunset here.  We were good with that, but not good with being wide awake at midnight.  Luckily the convenience store was open, so we could go pick up some local beer and relax in the room until we fell back asleep at 3am.

The next few days have been taking care of some work stuff, getting to meet folks, fighting jet lag and just adjusting.  It sure is a beautiful country.

Goddess is truly a goddess.  Just a few days before we left the states, I was asked if we wanted to attend a formal ball on Saturday, just three days after we arrived.  Of course, the invitation came just a few days after her gowns and shoes were packed.  Being the trooper that she is, she agreed.  So she was scooped up by a couple of the spouses here on Friday and spent the day shopping for a dress and shoes.  Luckily she has that option here, unlike Japan where all of the women were a size –5.  They did a fine, fine job and she looked absolutely gorgeous (much like she does every day).

Sorry, no pictures.  You’ll just have to take my word for it.

This coming week will be good.  We’ll finally get to look for a house (some bureaucratic red tape got in the way this week), get our licenses (more red tape) and decide where to live.  There are plenty of beautiful villages around to pick from.

Wish us luck.

Well, that didn’t go as planned

Gorgeous day today.  Temps in the mid-60’s with gusty winds that kept it feeling cooler than that.

Today we were to take the greys to a meet and greet, which is where we introduce the greyhounds to the public and hopefully find a few folks interested in adopting them after their life on the track.

But the greys had other plans.

Plans that involved a trip to the vet.

That involved a general anesthesia.

Many, many stitches.

And picking up one drunk pooch.

All is well now.

Although it will be a while before the wounds heal.

And the hair grows back.

For the two guys, they’ve been getting along famously.  The only thing we can figure out is that one got very possessive of a stuffie (stuffed toy) or one of the bones lying about in the back yard.  The blood made it look worse than it really was, but the fact that greyhounds have very thin skin required the trip to the vet.  It’s not pretty when you look at a dog’s neck and can see the muscles directly.

It was hilarious picking Giddy up from the vet.  Poor guy was still drunk from the anesthesia.  Since he’s getting much more comfortable with us, he leans against our legs whenever we’re around.  So I had ahold of his leash while Goddess took care of the financials and Giddy leaned up against me.  Really leaned, as one does when they’re drunk.  The problem was that we were on a tile floor, so the poor guy couldn’t keep his rear leg under control; it kept sliding out from under him.  So he’d pull it in, then it’d slide right back out, which would make him lean more.  So he’d pull his leg in, then it’d slide out, making him lean more.

Back at home, all is well.  They’re lying around as if nothing’s happened.

Giddy Up

Tomorrow, January 26th, is our greyhound Skinny’s “Gotcha Day”.  Although we recognize his birthday, his “gotcha day” is more important to all of us, since it’s the day that we adopted him.

He’s been a great addition to the family.

Yesterday we got a phone call out of the blue.  The Nashville chapter of the Greyhound Pets of America needed help with the latest batch of hounds rescued from the track.  They had one last pup staying in the kennel, finishing up his two-week veterinarian stay.  Of course we agreed.

So after a quick visit to REI to take advantage of their January clearance sale (lots of good cycling gear to be had), we headed over to pick him up.

We’re now foster parents.

Everyone, meet JJ Giddy Up, aka Giddy:

That’s Skinny in the cow PJ’s.  We don’t have any PJ’s for Giddy, so he’s nekkid.

He’s quite a change from Skinny.  When we got Skinny, he had been off the track for almost a year, had been vetted, fostered, adopted, returned, fostered and then finally to us.  That’s a lot of time to have been acclimated to houses, people and given some basic training.  Not so for Giddy, who other than the two week vet visit, is straight off the track.  The track where he met with modest success over his career of 49 races.

Giddy had never experienced a TV, a mirror or a ceiling fan.  Still full of energy, he’s been interesting to watch explore.  Skinny, on the other hand, lifts his head once in a while to see what the interloper is doing, but otherwise is quite nonchalant about the whole situation.

So Goddess and I (mostly Goddess) have been working to get him to understand basic commands (“Wait”, “No”, “Here”).  As they all are, greyhounds are very intelligent and he’s catching on quite quickly.  The one thing that he’s a bit slower to pick up on is that he thinks that he can assert himself over Skinny.  Again, Skinny’s pretty blasé about it all.  And we also make sure that Giddy understands where his place is in the pack.  He’ll get there pretty quick.

We’ve decided to foster since we’re curious about adopting a second grey.  That doesn’t mean that Giddy will be our second, although that’s an option.  Fostering helps us gauge how Skinny will do (he’s doing just fine so far), plus it’s our chance to help out.  Over the coming weekends Giddy will be made available to people interested in adopting a greyhound.  It’s our responsibility (and pleasure) to take care of him as well as train him during this transition from track to home.

And Skinny will have a friend tomorrow when we has his “Gotcha Day” Frosty Paws treat, which is made of yogurt, honey and other goodies.

Oh, and no one comment on my ugly-ass avocado green ’70s reject chair.  Someone gave it to us 7 or 8 years ago and it is soooooo comfortable.  Goddess has tried to cover it a couple of times, but it’s just not the same.  So the monstrosity sits in the living room, an eyesore to all who see it.  But it fits me perfectly and I lurve it.

Plus, it’s low enough to the ground that I can reach over right now and run my hand along Skinny’s side as he sleeps.

Rockin’ & Rollin’

Apparently they blew the tornado sirens last night.  We didn’t hear them, but the very close lightning strikes kept waking us up.  Plus, we’re dog-sitting another greyhound, so the two of them were skittish last night, which made it hard to sleep.

The alarm went off (way too early) and we were on the road to another race bright and early.  Luckily it was a local race, so we didn’t have to drive too much.

Which turned out to be a good thing.

We got to packet pickup and they wanted picture ID.  At that point I realized that I had left my wallet at home.  So Goddess drove like the devil and got us back to the house.  We made it back to the race site with 15 minutes to spare.

Wouldn’t you know it – they didn’t ask for ID this time.

Anyway, we were there for the inaugural Clarksville Duathlon – 2 mi run/13 mi bike/2 mi run.

A last minute addition to the race schedule.  After the Country Music Marathon expo, we stopped by our local running store so I could pick up a few more pair of Injinji (did I mention that I love those socks?).  They handed us the flier to the duathlon, which I posted on the fridge, mostly as a gee-whiz.

On Tuesday, three days after the marathon, I hopped on my Softride for a spin to work out the legs.  It was the first time I threw my leg over it since my IM-distance race last September.  That turned out to be a good ride.  I was surprised how good it felt.  So I punted and entered the race.

Then talked Goddess into doing it too.

I’m a bastard.

Fast forward to today.  You already know about the storms and ID snafu.  We hoped that would be the last (but it wasn’t).

The race started about 20 minutes late, but that’s fine.  It turned out the RD had to be pulled away for some reason.  Besides, the race was held at one of our favorite locations in town, the Beachaven Winery.  The stand-in RD mentioned that we were lucky to have been able to start due to the weather.  She stated that a tornado had gone through the south side of town (unverified, since it’s not on the National Weather Service storm report page).

Anyway, a few words and then the start horn went off.  My intent was to go as hard as I could, pushing it through the whole course.  I told Goddess that I hoped to be choking back bile when I finished.  But I also knew that I had to pace myself.

The two mile run went well, averaging 7:08 miles.  Not too hard, but hard enough, setting me up for the bike.

A quick transition and we were out on the road.  Again, knowing I needed to pace myself, I pushed, but not too hard.  Lots of folks went flying by, but I knew I’d see them again.  Two miles in and I started reeling them back, averaging 21mph.  Those that started too hard were already starting to fall back.

At just past three miles, the clusterf*ck began.  Apparently the RD decided to throw in a hard right turn, but didn’t station anyone there.  There might have been a mark on the road, but there are so many rides through that area year round that you couldn’t tell.  So at least half of the field flew right past it.  The realization came a couple of miles later when we approached the transition area.

One of the course workers was quite apologetic and redirected us.  No big deal, it was just going to add a couple of miles to the ride.  But the lead female was in the group and understandably upset.  So we followed the directions that the worker gave us.  Wouldn’t you know it, they were wrong.   A few miles later we ended up back at the transition area, having made another loop.

At that point, the group decided that they were just going to go out and make it a training ride.  I decided to run.  So I got 9.1 miles out of the scheduled 13 miles on the bike.

The last run leg was a bit slower.  I pushed it hard, but ended up averaging 7:44 miles.

As I finished my run, the rest of the group that was lost ended up rolling back in.  Some ran, some didn’t.  I watched as a couple of other riders came from the opposite direction, apparently having missed another turn somewhere and ended up riding towards downtown.  Some just bagged the run after their fiasco of a ride.

I was worried about Goddess, but it turns out she managed to find her way around the entire course.  Turns out that they had phoned the guy at the turn before the right-hander that we missed and he told her to make sure she turned at the next intersection.  Information that would have been good to know for the rest of us!

I joined Goddess on the run, pacing her from light post to light post.  She’s a good egg.  She came in dead last overall, smiling the whole way and still grabbed a third place AG medal.  My Goddess had a podium finish!

So although the bike course was poorly marked and poorly controlled, we still had a good time.  The best part was that the race fees went to the local YMCA.

I did manage to achieve my goal, which was to push as hard as I could (although I didn’t have to choke back the bile).  Of the 1:02:22 I raced, I was deep into Zone 5 for 51 minutes.  Minus the three minutes total that I spent in T1 and T2, that meant that I wasn’t in Zone 5 for only 8 minutes.

It was good to get back on the bike.  I was impressed that I was able to put as much power as I did to the pedals considering I hadn’t ridden in seven months.  Too bad it’ll be another seven months before I have a chance to ride it again.

That was my first du ever.  And it was a lot of fun.  I’ll look to do more in the future.

“That’s it. You can’t race anymore!”

Not my words. That phrase came out of Goddess’ mouth this afternoon. I’ll explain later.

This weekend I ran a marathon. Not a race, but a marathon.

Training.

It came about in an interesting way. Following my training plan, I had my standard 20-miler scheduled for Saturday. You know, the same 20-miler that’s in every marathon training plan. Yeah, that one. No worries, but it was a matter of scheduling.

Everything was piling up towards this weekend: two mid-terms due, the 20-miler, volunteer hours for the Greyhound Rescue and multiple jobs for both work and home. There just wasn’t a good fit for a 20-miler. At least, not without getting up at 4am and running in the dark.

So I ran across a very good blog entry by Gary Ditsch that reminded me of some viewpoints on the 20-miler. Specifically, don’t do them.

Now, there are many arguments on both sides of the fence for and against the 20-miler. And there’s certainly a time and place for them, but not in a typical training plan. At least for me.

I don’t know about you, but a run that long wipes me out for quite a few days. The quality of my runs in the following week are marginal, at best. And that’s assuming that I do them. Some days I’m just knackered and don’t feel like getting out there. That’s tough on the psyche to see the red flag on workouts I’ve skipped.

After my normally scheduled Saturday long run, I take my standard rest day on Sunday. That was something that I stuck with all last year through the IM training – keep a weekend day open for family and relaxation. I’ve continued that this year with the run-focused training. Unfortunately I often feel my legs slowly stiffen up through the day, which makes for a painful Monday morning run.

I think I found a solution to part of the problem, which I worked through last weekend’s 16-miler. Following Jeff Galloway’s plan of run/walk, I felt pretty fresh in the days following the run. Sure, my legs were tired, but I wasn’t stiff and sore. By Tuesday my legs felt recovered and I was quite comfortable through a 6-mile cruise interval workout.

So what does that have to do with this weekend and the title of this entry? Quite a bit.

After reading Gary’s blog and recalling several articles along the same lines, I looked at employing the Double Long strategy this weekend, which I could fit into my schedule. Much easier than a 20-miler. But instead of doing simple math, I decided that I’d do a 15-miler on Saturday before our Greyhound Rescue commitment, then a 10-miler Sunday morning. That adds up to more than 20 miles (at least by my calculations, but math in public is not my strong suit).

Saturday was a beautiful day to run – 42 degrees, a bit of wind and cloudy. I employed the same run/walk strategy as last week – 4 minutes running, 30 seconds walking. The walk breaks do a great job of making me stay focused on hydration and fueling. Plus, by keeping an eye on the Garmin, I was able to quickly catch the two times that it decided to turn off by itself.

And I felt good. Real good. Running the same course as last weekend’s 16-miler, I covered the distance in 2:26:50, which averages out to 9:47 miles. Certainly not anything that will get me on the Olympic Team (right, Karl?), but better than last weekend’s average of 10:19 miles. I was even able to push the last half-mile at 8:05 pace while knowing I still had more in the tank. Here’s my accumulated pace:

For the increases in accumulated pace (Miles 4, 9, 11 and 14), there are long, gradual climbs. Miles 11 and 14 are the same hill, which is a wall at the bottom, followed by a steady climb for 200-300 yards, then leveling off. Mile 3 is a nice flat section where I finally start warming up, so I’m usually much quicker through that stretch.

During the run, I realized that my weekend plan would have me running 25 miles (see, I’m real quick with that math in public). Well, that’s only 1.2 miles short of a marathon, so that means I needed to extend my Sunday run to be 11.2 miles. Why? Just because. Well, not just because, because “just because” equates to junk miles. There was actually a purpose. Mentally and physically.

Within two hours of finishing the run, we were standing on concrete for three hours introducing folks to the joys of greyhounds. We had seven hounds in attendance and they were everywhere. Since they grow up in very close quarters, they are very comfortable with other hounds. As soon as we went through the front door of the store, Skinny caught sight of the others and about pulled my arm off so he could get to sniffing butts.

Standing on the concrete didn’t do much for recovery, so my glutes tightened up a bit. Nothing horrible, but I was definitely ready to go when we were done. Even Skinny had enough and curled up in the one crate that was set out; too much standing for him, especially since he’s used to lying around the house for 20 hours a day.

I woke up this morning, just a touch tired in the legs, but no soreness. I’m really starting to see the benefits of a run/walk strategy.

Another beautiful day – low 50’s, a bit of a breeze, overcast. But humid. Plenty of moisture as a precursor to the rain we were to get this afternoon.

I figured that the first mile or two were going to be pretty slow as I found the pain in my legs. No such thing happened. Right out the gate I was pulling very comfortable 9:30-ish miles. Even through the hills. Heading out to the turnaround, I had a tail wind, which isn’t all that great, since I end up heating up too much. As I approached the turnaround, I wanted to wait until my scheduled walk (today I was employing a 5-minute run/30 second walk strategy), so I ended up turning around at 5.78 miles, guaranteeing that I’d be over 11.2 miles for the run.

Coming back, I had a good 5 mph head wind. It was beautiful, since it really cooled me down. Double layered up top with a technical long-sleeve shirt and an Under Armor compression shirt, the breeze really helped with the evaporational cooling. Ahhhh, sweet relief.

How did it go? Awesome. Negative split, even with the headwind on the return leg. 11.53 miles in 1:47:38, which works out to a 9:20 average pace, 27-seconds per mile faster than yesterday. Here’s the accumulated pace:

Mile 2 is a long uphill. Since it’s climbing out of a deep ravine, the return leg was mile 11. I was cruising at that point and didn’t lose any time. Mile 4 was a very convenient porta-potty stop. So even with the headwind, my average pace dropped from 9:35 for mile 6 to 9:20 overall by mile 11.5.

And same as yesterday, I was able to crank it up for the finish, starting about a mile out. Not a sprint, but a strong, steady effort. The last half mile’s split pace was 8:12 average, but my Garmin tells me that I was down to 7:04 for a stretch there. HR was in Zone 5 for the last 1.1 miles and it all felt good; I still felt like I could have given a bit more if I needed to (e.g. if this was a race).

And that’s how I got the title of this entry. Goddess asked how the run was and of course I was quite pleased. That’s when she said “That’s it. You can’t race anymore!”

We both find it funny how I can have these excellent workouts and then suffer and slog through my races. Each and every one of them. Go figure.

While these were both good experiences, the proof will be in tomorrow’s pudding. I ran my PT test on Friday and was not at all pleased with my 10:42 for the 1.5 miles (7:08 pace); I was shooting for 9:45 (6:30 pace), which I held for the first 1/2 mile, but then faded gradually the rest of the way. We’re doing the test again tomorrow and I think I’ll give it another go. I suspect that I won’t better Friday’s time, but it will be interesting to see what my legs have in them. Then I’ll take Tuesday off.

Well, off to read some California 70.3 race reports…

Rinkin Park, Rinkin Park

The title will make sense in a moment.

Last night was the delivery on a Christmas present to all of us. Goddess, son and I sped to Nashville after work to go to the Sommet Center. If you haven’t figured out by now, live music is my thing. I’ve been spending a lot more money on concerts since my mid-teens than I’d like to think about. But I wouldn’t trade any of those experiences. Not a single one.

Headlining was Linkin Park. All three in this house are huge fans and we were quite excited to see this show; matter of fact, hand me a beer (or three) and a microphone and I’ll karaoke with LP. Heck, at that point I’ll karaoke with just about anything.

Opening up was Chiodos (pretty good), followed by Coheed and Cambria (meh). We scored floor tickets (General Admission) since I’m a huge fan of being down in the mass of bodies. For rock shows, that’s all part of the experience.

As soon as we got down to the floor, son hooked up with his friends and was gone; we didn’t see him again until everything was over. Goddess and I hung out to listen to Chiodos, milled about during intermission, then left after a few Coheed and Cambria (C&C) songs to get a beverage (Widmer Hefeweizen for me, Michelob Ultra for her). We stood out in the atrium and watched the folks milling about. Plenty of others weren’t too impressed with C&C. Don’t get me wrong, they were not bad. Matter of fact, I though the individual members (especially the guitarist) were quite good, but as a whole they just didn’t do it for me. The songs that I heard were very formulaic and it was difficult for me to tell the difference between songs. In other words, nothing grabbed me. Although I did get a laugh out of watching the hirsute lead singer, who tilted his head forward, sending his hair over his face, making me think of Cousin Itt.

Goddess and I partook in one of our favorite activities – watching people. There were all kinds. From 12-year old girls in mini-skirts and F-me pumps trying to look 19 to 55 year old women in mini-skirts and F-me pumps trying to look 19. Goddess and I were quite catty from time to time, but it was all in good fun. Quote of the night? “He’s going down on that hot dog like he hasn’t had a date in a week“.

C&C finished, so we headed back to the floor. Since the crowd had thinned out for beverage and potty breaks, we were able to get up to about 20′ from the stage. Perfect. Initially I was surprised that Goddess wanted to get that close, but she said “Hey, it’s Linkin Park”. I was surprised since she’s never been a big fan of being close to the stage, ever since I made the mistake of taking her to her first big concert in Tokyo and poising us to be up next to the stage for The Prodigy. She lasted about 3 minutes in that crush of humanity. I lasted about 10 minutes, but dislocating my shoulder put an end to that pit. Good times!

Anyway, we stood and stood and stood. I figured it would be about 30 minutes between bands. The crew was done with the stage in 30 minutes, but we stood there for another 25 minutes before LP took the stage.

Back to the title. While standing there waiting for LP to take the stage, the crowd did the usual chanting for the band – “Linkin Park, Linkin Park”. It made Goddess and I laugh, thinking about good friends who saw LP play in Tokyo. It’s stereotypical and certainly not meant to be mean, but they couldn’t help but laugh as the Japanese crowd did the same thing, except it was “Rinkin Park, Rinkin Park”.

LP played for an hour, flowing from song to song, some fast, some slow. Excellent show from start to finish. They alternated new and old songs, so there was plenty for everyone. I laughed at one point, watching Mr Han, who’s the DJ for LP, playing “Rock, Paper, Scissors” with the cameraman during a point in a song where Mr Han didn’t have anything to play.

Goddess even swooned as Chester, one of her many, many, many “boyfriends”, peeled his shirt off. Since he started off the show in a jean jacket and t-shirt and was jumping all around the stage, I have no doubt that he was hot.

At the end of the hour, they bowed. Time for the first encore, which they came back and played a few slower songs, then ramped it up for couple more, then said goodnight again. Everyone headed for the exits. Goddess and I giggled, since the house lights weren’t coming on. The show’s not over until the house lights come on. So we moved forward and got up to about 5′ from the stage. The crowd thinned out even more. As expected, LP came out for a second encore and we were right up front.

Now, it wasn’t quite the second encore that we were hoping for. Last weekend in New York, Jay-Z came out for the second encore. We were hoping, since we’re big Jay-Z fans too. Especially when he and LP teamed up for their Collision Course. Great stuff! So the encore was “just” LP.

Up to this point, the crowd had been pretty energetic but behaved themselves pretty well. As LP launched into “One Step Closer“, the pit blew up since there was more room and folks could move around. I’m fine with that and actually welcome it, but one kid came flying across right at Goddess, swinging his fists about head-high. I snapped into protection mode. The kid didn’t partake in the pit the rest of the song, but I certainly did.

Son and his friends were among those that made the choice to head for the exits after the first encore. So he got an eagle-eye view of the last song, including the pit. He couldn’t believe that we were up in the midst of it. He kept asking “really?”.

Afterwards we took our time filtering out so the crowd could disperse. The normal 45-minute drive took 2.5 hours! As we drove down to Nashville it was snowing. Not too hard, just flurries. But while we were in the concert, the temperature dropped and the ice set up on the roads and interstates. What a freakin’ mess. We sat in one line for our interstate exit for 30 minutes, then took a detour and worked our way through back roads. We got around the accidents, but it was a harrowing drive for the last 40 miles. We drive a Subaru Outback and love its all-wheel-drive. But there were stretches where I was holding the wheel straight and the crosswind was pushing us sideways across the lanes. We finally made it; not everyone did (that video was at least 7 hours after we passed). Son got to bed just four hours before he had to be at school; it was a rough day for him today. But hey, I did the same thing at his age, getting home from The Who’s (first of many) farewell tours just in time to shower and head to the bus stop.

Me? I took the day off. And took advantage of the weather to get out and take some pictures.

Next concert? This weekend – WILCO at the Ryman Theater on Sunday. Even sooner if I can convince Goddess to go to Kid Rock on Friday night (it being Nashville, with any luck Hank Williams, Jr. will make an appearance). If not, the next one with tickets already bought is Gigantour (Megadeth, Children of Bodom, Job for Cowboy and High on Fire); Goddess will sit that one out, hanging out in the hotel room with Skinny while I take son and a couple of his friends.

Whatever your choice in music – live it, feel it, enjoy it.

Adoption

Well, today was the Southeast Tri Expo down in Nashville. We were looking forward to heading down there, checking out the goods and hearing Michael Lovato speak.

But we were sidetracked.

By an adoption.

We now have a new baby in the house.

Everyone, meet Skinny, aka Skinny Man. He was born SMK Skynyrd, as in Lynryd Skynyrd.   At just three and a half years old, he’s still a young pup (who weighs about 75lbs). One who’s actually never raced.

The Rock & Roll name will work well in this house, given our love of music.  It would have been really great to meet his siblings – SMK Rush and SMK Zeppelin.

The fine folks at Greyhound Pets of America/Nashville (GPAN) brought Skinny to our house, along with two other wonderful greys. If we could have pulled it off, I think we would have been fine with all three. At once. But it’s better to take things slowly. I’m sure Goddess and I will adopt a few more over the years.