My big man turned five last week. I feel a little guilty about writing a full blog post celebrating Nicholas turning two, then completely ignoring Owen’s fifth for a week. On the other hand, the number of photos and videos I have of Owen’s first two years makes it seem like I lost my camera when Nicholas was born, so maybe it evens out.

After cohosting (with the parents of one of Owen’s best friends) what was generally considered by all in attendance to be the best fifth birthday party of all time, we took Owen and his friend to the circus the next day. Not some new fangled Cirque du High Concept Performance Art, but the O.G. Ringling Brothers and Barnum & Bailey Circus. Yeah, I know, it’s not PC to keep elephants in train cars and make them do tricks. But whatever, it’s the circus, and it’s still pretty darn cool. Now, to be fair, they have made some changes since I last saw the greatest show on earth when I was a kid. They’ve taken a few elements from the Playbook du Soleil. They’ve mostly bailed on the three-ring format, and their costume designers have clearly been looking to make the spandex look a little more “now.” But despite the updates, some things are almost exactly as I remember them.

But this isn’t really a post about the circus. Or about Owen’s birthday. (Sorry, big man. You know I love you, and it’s crazy that you’re already five and starting Kindergarten. There will be more about that in other posts, I promise.). This post is about the circus as a metaphor for my life. Most of the circus wasn’t actually in three rings. It was one act at a time, allowing the audience to focus on that rather than splitting their focus trying to decide what to watch and not miss anything really good. But at a few points during the show, they did do more than one thing. There was some three-ring action. At one point there were FIVE acts at once. I tried to watch all five, but multitasking is a myth. You can only really pay attention to one thing at a time. I think I caught some good bits of at least the four performances closest to where we sat, but I’m sure I missed a lot, and I have almost no idea what that fifth act did.

Here’s the metaphor part. Sorry for the lack of slickness in the transition, but there are two or three other things I’m supposed to be doing at the moment, so the badass writer chops are not what they could be. A year ago I was jobless, overweight, drinking more than my share of margaritas, and trying to figure out what to do next. Oh, how things change. Now I have three jobs, of a sort, each of which I’m exceedingly grateful for, none of which yet pays enough to quit any of the others. Plus there are my kids, my marriage, and this obsession with running which I’d worry was a problem if it weren’t so beneficial to both my mental and physical health. Oh, and this blog. You may have noticed there haven’t been so many posts of late. And in case you’re curious, I’m off margaritas, but haven’t given up wine or chocolate.

I’m fairly certain none of these endeavors is getting what amounts to my best work. That said, I’m pretty darn good, so even with split focus I’m holding my own. But there are times I’m not sure which way to look. Which act to focus on. And sometimes I slip up. I suppose more than anything I hope it’s not my marriage or my family that suffers, though some days I know my fuse is shorter than it ought to be and my attention isn’t where I’d like it. But the occasional slip is to be expected. The dude on the trapeze didn’t manage to hit the quadruple somersault, and the missed attempt was actually pretty exciting. If I do miss one of these days, I just hope there’s a net down there.

I’m training for my first half marathon. Or, rather, I’m supposed to be training for my first half marathon. What I’m actually doing is lying on the couch, where I dragged myself this morning from the bed, trying not to stand up too fast lest I get dizzy and fall on my face. It was not a pretty scene when I hauled my fever-adled self out of bed a little too quickly, sat down next to Nicholas on the floor, and promptly passed out. Good thing I was already near the ground. So yeah, I’m sick. This is day two of the great fever, sore throat and lethargy of May 2010. Thankfully, it does seem to be getting better. The fever seems to have abated, it no longer feels like I’m swallowing knives (just sharp rocks), and I can stand up for more than 30 seconds without getting lightheaded. Let’s hope this trend continues. [UPDATE: Found out the day after I posted this I have strep throat. Awesome, right? So I'm on antibiotics now, and hoping this crap goes away quickly!]

But back to that half marathon. I’m registered to run the LA Rock ‘n’ Roll 1/2 Marathon on October 24, 2010. It will be a year almost to the day since I started running, and it seemed a good milestone to hit at that point in my running life. Lots of people start running and almost immediately decide to run a marathon. I’m not that guy. Since deciding I want to run barefoot, I’ve consciously taken it slowly, building endurance and improving my running form carefully. It hasn’t actually been slowly and carefully enough to avoid all issues. I’ve had minor problems with my ankles, calves, achilles, and recently my knee, most of them directly related to pushing too far and doing too much, too soon. I guess it might be easier to start being physically active at 16 or 26 than at 36, especially since my soft choirboy history has meant I’ve done almost nothing athletic since my parents stopped making me play peewee soccer, which I truly sucked at.

But, I digress. I decided early on I wouldn’t consider running a marathon until I’d been running regularly for at least a year. So I signed up for this 1/2 at the one year mark, and figured after that I’d reevaluate and decide what’s next. I’m already thinking a marathon in 2011 might be in the cards, but I gotta get through this 1/2 first. So, I made a plan. I’ve been reading Daniel’s Running Formula, recommended to me by a sports doc friend and several others on dailymile. This Jack Daniels guy, in addition to making some kick ass whiskey, is also apparently a pretty good running coach. This book is about hard core running training, and he’s got programs for everything from 800 meters to the marathon. So, using the book, I mapped out my 1/2 marathon training schedule. Considering the way my life works, I knew I wouldn’t stick 100% to the plan. I’m sure I’ll shift a workout from one day to another and probably even skip one here and there. The plan I’ve created is more than enough to get me comfortably through the race, so I’m fine with all that. But I didn’t really expect to be taking the second week of my training plan almost completely off. Between this knee pain that cropped up last week and this knock-me-on-my ass sickness thing that started yesterday, this has not been a banner running week.

Missing a week of training, especially with the race still many months away, doesn’t worry me. What does worry me is the thought that my body may not let me do what I want to do. Until now, my running has been pretty free form. I’ve run when I wanted to, and when I could make time. I never had an an official weekly mileage goal, and I certainly never had a training plan. Now that I do, it bothers me when I can’t at least come close to sticking to it. Though it builds up slowly, the plan maxes out at 40 miles a week. I’ve never run much over 20. What if my body can’t take that kind of mileage? Though it mostly focuses on pretty easy running, the plan includes some tempo runs and speed work. What if things break down when I try to run fast?

None of this is worth losing a lot of sleep over, I know. If it turns out running 20 miles a week is as much as I can take and stay injury-free, well, that’s a hell of a lot more than I was running a year ago (0 miles a week). And if running distance races isn’t for me, that’s OK too. I like running, and I’d keep doing it even if I could rarely make it into double digits in a single run.

The reason all this bothers me as much as it does, I think, is that for the last few months,  running has been the part of my life that’s been going really well. It’s fun, my friends are inspired by it, and it’s helped me get really healthy for the first time in a while. Other aspects of my life, particularly on the work front, have not been so great. There have been some glimmer of hope there in the last few days, but it’s still a source of worry. So, to see a crack in the plaster of the thing that has really been helping me hold it all together, that worries me. But I’m not gonna let it stop me.

I’ll get over this illness, I’ll work out this knee thing, and I’ll get back to running. And working. For actual money. And not worrying so damn much. On that note, I give you a photo from the XTERRA Malibu Creek Trail Race a couple weeks back. It was a tough race, and I ran it well. Despite the fact I think it was the beginning of my knee woes, I was certainly having fun when this shot was taken. I’m sure I’ll get back there soon.

I missed my own blogiversary. This blog is now one-year old. Yay blog!

I started badassdadblog on April 14, 2009. That first post was titled “stuff that’s hard,” and in the 12 months since, I think I’ve done my share of that sort of stuff. I’m not sure a full recap of the last year is worth the time to read (or write), and much of that you could get by going through the archives, if you wanted. But I do want to share a few things on this auspicious occasion.

March for Babies 2010. Photo by Megan Hook.

I’m very proud to have walked in last weekend’s March for Babies with Heather, Mike, and Annabelle Spohr (who is clearly slacking off by not having her own blog. I mean, you’re three months old, kid! What are you waiting for?). This blog was largely inspired by the amazing courage, resilience, and support I witnessed from and surrounding the Spohrs when they lost their first daughter, Madeline, just over a year ago, because of complications related to her premature birth. I discovered many wonderful things through those events. An amazing community of parents and others, an enjoyable and valuable outlet in writing, and the power of social media to bring people together in very real ways.

Another thing I’m proud and happy about is my health and fitness. I’m in better physical shape than I’ve been at any other time in my life. I’m wearing pants the size I wore in high school, and I ran 10 miles last week. In a row! That’s huge for me. I’ve been running regularly since October 2009, and the benefits have been amazing. Weight loss and fitness are definitely among them, but so has been finding yet another wonderful online and real life community: runners. Much of that has been through dailymile, which has been a constant source of motivation, support, and inspiration for me as a new runner.

Here’s how many miles I’ve logged so far:

Better yet, here’s how many donuts I’ve burned:

Other areas of my life have been less rosy. OK, to be fair, there’s really just ONE area I have any reasonable right to bitch about: work. Or, more specifically, lack of work. Or, if we’re being REALLY specific, lack of income. I’ve certainly been busy for most of the last year. Between working with a close friend on his startup business, building web pages for small businesses with a former coworker, and many days being full-time dad, there’s been no shortage of WORK. There’s just been a shortage of monetary compensation. I think one day I’ll look back on this year, a year where I have been able to spend more time with my boys and my wife than ever before, and think how lucky I was. But that will be much easier once I am again gainfully employed, and not worried about the steadily sinking waterline of our savings.

I’ve written less often here recently. I don’t know if that’s good or bad, or whether I plan to do more or less in the future. I intend to keep writing, and I expect I’ll go through periods when I’ll write a lot, and others when I’ll write less. Whatever the case, I want to sincerely thank you. All of you who read, comment on, and share this blog with me. It’s been a really exciting, challenging, fun year. How about we go for two?

For the first time today, I really missed my old job. I got an email from a friend and former coworker about her visit to the office where we used to work, to have lunch with people we used to work with. Reading her note, the pang of remorse I felt came as a complete surprise to me. Remorse? Or is it grief? Wishing I still had the comfortable job, comfortable income, comfortable perception of stability. Obviously the comfort I felt wasn’t real, but you don’t know what you don’t know.

At the same time, Owen has been obsessed with earthquakes. I think it started with glimpses of Haiti coverage he saw while we were out of town a few weeks ago. Since returning home he asks almost every day about what would happen if we had a big earthquake. Would our roof fall in? Would things fall down? What about the pictures on his walls? Would they fall on him? On his brother?

We live in Southern California, so we can’t tell him we don’t have earthquakes. We talk to him about our sturdy old house, about the things we do to stay safe in an emergency. We hold him and we tell him not to worry.

Also this week, Nicholas started day care for the first time in his 20 months of life. He’s a trooper, and he’s doing well, but clearly he is not thrilled about this change. The first few days he was uncertain at drop-off. Now he knows what’s happening, and he is not happy being left. This will pass, I’m sure, but while it lasts it’s hard to walk away from our sad baby.

So, I find myself facing my fears alongside my young boys. Fear of the unknown. Fear of what we can’t control. Fear of the new. For them, I know, they will get through it. They will endure and eventually these fears will fade.

For me, I strongly believe the same will be true, but it’s harder to see it. Will the work I’m doing translate into income that will support us? If not, will I find something else that pays the bills and doesn’t eat my soul? I struggle with these questions. I take strength from my boys while trying to comfort them. One way or another, we’ll all get through this.

We interrupt your regularly scheduled badassery to bring you this special announcement …

For those who saw my shameless plug a few weeks back, you know Seismic Games, the company I’m doing PR and Marketing for, released our debut iPhone app — iCaroler — just in time for the holidays. iCaroler has been getting great reviews both online and in the iTunes App Store. Thanks to those of you who have reviewed it on your blogs. If you haven’t reviewed it and would like to, let me know and I’ll send you a promo code for a free copy! If you’d just like to go and get yourself a copy, it’s only $.99 in the App Store. You can also see video demos and more at iCaroler.com.

Meanwhile, I’m very excited to announce iCaroler is now featured on Mashable.com’s 10 iPhone Apps That Bring Holiday Cheer. Better still, we’re #1! So, you don’t have to take MY word for it that iCaroler is cool!

Happy holidays to all.

Hey. A bit off topic from my standard blog fare, but it’s my blog, and I say what goes here!

My company, Seismic Games, just released our first app for iPhone: iCaroler! You can find out more about it at iCaroler.com, or go directly to the iTunes App Store and pick it up for yourself!

If you love any of the following, iCaroler is for you: Christmas music, vocal harmony, cute holiday animations, multi-phone sync, original vocal arrangements of favorite Christmas carols, me.

Best of all, iCaroler is only $.99. An easy way to get into the holiday spirit!

Here endeth the plug.

Our boys are so different from each other. They’re similar in some ways, too — they look a lot alike, they both wake up at the asscrack of dawn, they’re both pretty happy kids. But in many ways they are just very different people. One such difference is how they approach taking risks.

Owen — four years old — is cautious, thoughtful, and sometimes downright fearful. (He’s also smart, verbal, goofy, stubborn, sweet, and hysterical; but that’s not what this post is about). When he was a baby, we learned not to worry he’d put something unauthorized into his mouth. The kid would never put anything he didn’t know was food (and food he LIKED) in his mouth. This hasn’t changed (much to our consternation at the dinner table). With physical stuff, too, he talked early, but didn’t walk until he was pretty sure he’d be good at it. He wasn’t a big climber, jumper, run-headlong-into-wall-er. While I sometimes worry he’ll hold back too much and miss out on things, I also take comfort knowing he isn’t likely to do a swan dive off the jungle gym. I see a lot of myself in him here.

Nicholas — almost 16 months — is crazy. The dude has no fear and does not hesitate to do pretty much anything that strikes him. Partly this comes from being the younger brother. He sees Owen do things and he wants to do them, too. Never mind Owen’s three years older and generally able to do a lot more stuff without risking death. But even when Owen’s not around, Nicholas does things Owen never would have. Whether climbing onto tables taller than his head, running headlong down our steep driveway, or sticking anything he can get his hands on into his mouth (apparently chalk is now a snack food?) the kid just knows no fear. And pretty much always has at least one good facial bruise to show for it.

In this photo I imagine Nicholas struggling to free himself so he can stick that chalk back in his mouth and leap to the concrete below while Owen tries to take the chalk away and hold him back from certain doom. Is this who they will always be?

Watching Owen over the years, he’s changed. Grown is probably a better word. He’s overcome some fears, while others have surfaced. I used to think he was going to be a kid who wasn’t afraid of the dark, but as he got older and his imagination started to bloom, so did his capacity for fear of the abstract unknown. At his core he’s still the same kid — cautious, thoughtful, a little scared about things he’s unsure of, especially physical danger.

Owen’s gymnastics coach — the always amazing Coach Scott — tells him fear is your body’s way of telling you to be careful. When you do something even though you’re scared, that’s bravery. Being brave doesn’t mean not being afraid. If you’re facing something truly dangerous and you’re not scared, you’re not brave, you’re stupid. The key is to listen to that fear, allow it to heighten your awareness and proceed with care, but don’t let it stop you.

So I guess in a way I hope Owen will continue to conquer his fears, if thoughtfully, while Nicholas learns to be at least a LITTLE BIT scared of things that are potentially life-threatening.

I find myself taking some new risks lately. I’ve decided not to look for a “steady” job like the one I left (note my inaccurate but self-affirming choice of verb here) and instead go to work for a startup I think has great potential but which at the moment has no money to pay me. I hope I’m striking a healthy balance — being thoughtful and conscious of the risks I’m taking, without being too afraid to take a well-considered leap now and then. I hope I can learn from BOTH my kids and show them how to blend the best of each of their strengths.

No matter what, they’ll still be way cuter. I’m learning to live with that.

“Live never to be ashamed if anything you do or say is published around the world. Even if what is published is not true.” 

I learned Monday I no longer have a job.