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Fit, Fat, Ffffttt

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VINCE

This morning at 0645 hours I finally achieved my goal of completing a run. I ran 4½ miles without stopping. It hurt a lot, especially with some cramping near the bottom of my ribcage, and general soreness in my knees and thighs, but I was too happy to care. I did it.

I don’t know if I’ll be able to do it every time, but I do know now that it’s possible. On a side note, I started taking a probiotic supplement today. I think it’s supposed to help me with my poops. But for now it just makes me fart a lot. More on that later.

—

Two days later, 0633 hours. My down day, my second least favorite day. Yesterday was tough. For the first time since my arrival we did not go out on work crew assignments. We did, however, practice marching. The worst was from 1415 to 1610 [2:15-4:10pm] when we did half step march (120 steps per minute) up and down the side of the track. Half step is difficult because it’s faster and we have to pick our boots up about 6 inches from the ground every time to keep us all in line. It looks nice, but doing it for two hours hurt.

That wasn’t the worst of it. We had to wear our full khaki uniform and work gloves and a hat. Ugh. So hot. My gloves were soaked by the end. We did a total of five hours of marching yesterday. I’m still alive.

—

I completed the run again. 4½ miles. I even felt great afterwards. This is especially good because our brown hat review is in a few days. It’s the second of four big reviews. We will have a meeting with our case manager, counselor, squad officer and physical trainer. We will go over everything positive and negative from the past month. If all goes well, we get upgraded from red hats to brown hats. That means our seniority goes up, and we have more responsibility. More on that later.

We had our monthly weigh-in this morning. I went from 194 pounds and 13.4% body fat to 189 pounds and 11.2% body fat. That’s pretty good for a month. It means I’m turning fat into muscle, I think.

[ANNE: Eleven percent body fat!? That’s so unfair! I signed on with a personal trainer for the first time in my life about a month ago, and she measured me at 34% body fat. Ugh. I’ve always loved weight training, and she has added all sorts of cardio, which I hate because I hate sweating. But I am doing it. And after three weeks Ta Da! Still 34% body fat, no weight loss, not an inch lost. Again, ugh. She told me not to be discouraged, to keep it up. I mentioned that Vince is at 11% and her jaw dropped: “That’s really, really good for a 36-year-old man,” she said. Skeptical analyzer that I am, I wonder if the devices at the Y and in prison are different? Maybe I could find some way to have them test my body fat when I finally get to visit Vince? No, that’s crazy thinking. Now I understand why there’s such an obsession with naming thing “boot camp,” if it gets those kinds of results.]

 

Cleaning Up His Act

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VINCE

I got to leave the grounds for the first time today. Myself and five other volunteers took a short van ride to a YMCA camp type of area thing place. We cleaned up after some sort of event, folding tables, stacking chairs, sweeping, mopping, etc. Nothing too exciting but just for half an hour I felt like I wasn’t in custody. It was nice.

We’ve been here a while now and more of these opportunities will come. Count me in.

It’s been snowing all day. It all has melted on contact with the ground, but we still haven’t been able to get outside much. That’s why I’m able to write so much sometimes.

—

Twice now I’ve made it four laps around the big track. Three miles each day is definitely an improvement over, well, anything I’ve ever done. My lungs are sore. My ribs hurt. My calves are tight. I have an abundance of energy, but am too sore to do anything with it. And I’m starving! Soon we will eat.

It’s my down day. It’s been quite frustrating so far.

It started at 0800. In line waiting for breakfast, the notorious Officer Weston was looking at everybody’s boots. Mine, along with several others, were not up to par. They should be inspection-ready at all times, so I can’t blame it on anything other than me being lazy. He made me go back to the barracks and get a shine on them before I could eat.

After breakfast, he lined us up in the main hallway and took us one by one into our respective barracks to our bunks to inspect our personal areas. Mine was not looking too good.

It’s hard—nearly impossible—to have every area perfect. 2 bins; clothing in one, books, folders, mail, medications in the other. He unfolded all the clothes and tipped the other bin upside down on my bed. Then he took all of the clothes off my hangers and shoved them into the top part of my locker (our display area for hygiene stuff) so I had to start everything from scratch.

It took me two hours to fix it all. I finally got to go play some cribbage outside with a friend. When I came back in, a different Officer had un-made my bed for me. I don’t know why. Ugh. I need to focus more I think. Just when I thought I was doing well….

[ANNE: I am a neatnik, although I’ve learned to ease off. I used to be such a clean freak that I think people were uncomfortable in my house. And Vince was the opposite, maybe in unconscious rebellion? Who knows. His slovenliness was one of the things that bothered me when I would visit him in Lanesboro. His apartment was strewn with dirty clothes, empty beer cans, and trash. The carpet was stained, the blinds were crookedly half-raised so it was always dark, the bathroom was…well let’s just say I preferred using the porta-potty at the nearby campground. So now he’s learning to take care of his things, to make his bed, to keep things tidy. It’ll be interesting to see if he continues that once he’s released.]

Fact-Resistant Humans

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VINCE

It is such a beautiful day. Fortunately we spent a lot of it outside. For an hour we marched. We’re getting pretty good. We can do counter columns, rear march, left and right flanks and obliques. In 4 and 2/3 months we will get to show our moves at our graduation. Time moves so quickly.

After marching we spend about 3 hours sweeping the running rack and transporting leaves and pine needles from the woods to the compost piles. I didn’t even feel like I was working, it was so nice out. But as I write this I’m quite sore, and I have a huge blister on the palm of my hand.

—

I’ve been lazy all day and I loved it. I won five games of cribbage. I’ve done a little bit of treatment work. I’m hoping that not doing anything physical today will help me in my running tomorrow morning. I’ll let you know in the next sentence.

—

Nope. I only ran two miles. Still an improvement from ten months ago, but not where I want to be. I need to try harder, but it’s hard to try harder. And my legs hurt.

I got my Initial Treatment Plan (ITP) last Friday. I hate it because it’s spot on. As it turns out, I’m controlling, I just didn’t know how bad I was.

I use my body language and anger/sarcasm to control the people around me. For example, if somebody close by is doing something wrong, I try to look like I’m upset and I might even point them out to somebody else instead of talking to them about it.

Another example: If I’m having trouble with making my bed, I will exaggerate my frustrations to make it look like I’m having trouble so people will try to help, instead of me just asking for help. And sometimes when they offer assistance, I get annoyed and tell them off, which makes me look like an asshole. Ugh. Treatment is hard. I like it.

—

Today I noticed that I quit biting my nails a week ago. I didn’t even do it on purpose, it just happened. I wish I hadn’t noticed it, I can’t stop looking at them now…I must change my focus.

Here’s a good one. The other day in our cognitive thinking class, where we are invited to ask questions about anything, someone asked why the asteroid that killed off the dinosaurs didn’t kill all the people too. Then: dead silence. I was the first to laugh. He’s not a smart man, and every week he has mentioned that he “doesn’t believe in dinosaurs,” as if they were mythical creatures.

Maybe not such a cray thought considering our teacher says we’re all descendants of aliens—35-40-foot-tall aliens.

[ANNE: When I spoke with Vince on Sunday, he told me about this instructor, Tim Peebles. Vince is enthusiastic about the Thinking for Change class Peebles teaches. He said it’s all been developed by Hazelden Betty Ford, which is a well-respected chemical dependency treatment, publishing, and research center. But aliens? How can you lecture people about thinking rationally, then (as Vince described) spend the remainder of the class telling stories about the aliens you saw are Roswell? I believe there is life elsewhere in the universe, but until there are facts in front of me, I don’t claim to know what form they take.

I googled Tim Peebles and below are the Putinesque images that came up. Maybe they’re different incarnations of him?]

Peebles

Breakthrough

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VINCE

It’s been a crazy two days. The new guys have been getting yelled at constantly, which does take some pressure off us, but we are also feeling the pressure of trying to set an example for them.

Most amusing to me is seeing what we looked like a month ago. Completely disoriented, disorganized, and disheveled. We have made enormous progress in just over five weeks. We also have a long way to go.

Today, I really blew it. I talked myself down and out of the running group. I used every excuse I could think of to make myself okay with doing only two laps (1.5 miles). Now, of course, I feel stupid. I have a lot of trouble still with motivating myself to run. I don’t like any part of it except for how I feel when I’m done. That’s the only way I can explain it.

—

I received a postcard from my Mother today from Petra, Jordan, postmarked two months ago. So that took a little while. Well, it’s been a long day. Time for dinner soon. Tuna casserole.

I’m going to apply for a lead cook job here. It doesn’t pay, but it would be great experience.

The tuna casserole was actually quite delicious.

It’s Friday night. We don’t really do too much. Study hall for 1.5 hours at some point I think.

Then comes Saturday. My least favorite day. It’s the day we’re all on call for any dirty job they come up with. Trending this week is the gigantic compost piles. Tons and tons of decomposing organic matter we get to move around over and over, and over. If you don’t know what compost smells like, think of the smell of feces, and then don’t change anything. That by itself isn’t so bad.

When we’re working we are dressed in our full khaki uniform, long-sleeves and legs, and coveralls, gloves, and a hat. It’s not even hot out yet and we’re sweating like crazy. I’m not complaining; I signed up for this. Ugh.

[ANNE: Vince called me today, the first time in over 2 months. He is allowed one phone call every other Sunday from here on out.  Except, he explained, that this month has five Sundays so it’ll be three weeks until he can call again. I’ve been trained by the DOC now, not to ask “But why?”

Vince is allowed one 13-minute phone call, and he called me. That tells me I must have done something right—right?

And to me at least, once we got talking it felt so natural, like we had just talked yesterday. I think that’s a sign of a close relationship, when you don’t need to be in constant contact to feel comfortable talking to the person on the other end of the line. It wasn’t always that way. In fact for years our conversations via text and in person (Vince didn’t have voice service on his phone) were stilted and extremely uncomfortable. I was always hinting and probing and hoping for some sign that he wanted to change, and that was the last thing he wanted to do. This is huge, I realize as I write this. Happy Day! And maybe this means that someday he can have a healthy romantic relationship too.]

Vince’s Big BM

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VINCE

The stress is getting to me finally. They really pile the work up on us.

I’m having troubles in more areas that I thought and it was brought to my attention over the past couple of days.

Thankfully, it happened on the side by a CO. He didn’t point anything out but he talked to me and when I answered his questions I realized then that I’m not perfect, I have residual anti-authority issues from being a criminal for a good portion of my life, and that I still negative-talk myself a lot. I kind of still hate myself for wasting my life away using and dealing drugs. Sometimes I want to give up. I want to leave this place because it would be easier than staying.

The CO and I talked for a good half hour. He wouldn’t let me walk away. He wouldn’t allow me to use the self-pity stance. And he almost got me to cry.

He took me aside to talk because he knows I do try. That I’m not a trouble maker. And mostly because I really needed to be heard. I was able to open up and really dig.

And we found some problems I’ve been having here, that I couldn’t see.

I’m controlling, manipulative, and a perfectionist, which is why I hurt so much inside. I’m full of shit. And I don’t want anybody to know. I use deceit to control. I will lie, cheat, steal, tell half truths, and beg to obtain and continue using drugs on the outside. And in here I’m defensive, I’m always right, to keep others off balance. Then I point out their faults. I need to quit all that now.

I hope some of that made sense. Sometimes I just write to vent. I feel better getting that out.

—

Today is the first day of our 6th week. We are no longer lowest in seniority; we got new guys today.

Today’s date seems to have some significance in my life. Nine years ago, it was still my sobriety date. Before that, I don’t remember how long ago, I had the chicken pox, and another time I was an usher in my aunt’s wedding. Today, I ran over three miles and didn’t die.

I ran three straight laps around the big track (two miles). Then I had to walk twice around the small track, but then I fell back in to the run, and completed two more laps (one and a third miles). I am so sore. But I feel great.

This last Friday I only made one lap running and then walked for the rest of our PT time. I felt like a failure. I thought about it over the weekend and decided I need to push myself harder. So I did.

Tomorrow we do 40 minutes of aerobics, then we run again. Completing the run consists of six full laps. That’s 4.1 miles. That’s the “B” run. Then there’s the “A” run. A faster pace, and I think 8 laps. I don’t know the math on that one.

[ANNE: Vince has the wrong date, but yes there is a date on or around on which all of these things happened, not to mention his bar mitzvah. That was a lot of fun. There were a lot of jokes about “your big BM” and afterwards there was karaoke and he and his friend David inhaled all the helium from the balloons—lord, did that contribute to his future waywardness?]

Vince's BM Vince's BM2

That Confounded Bridge

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ANNE

My Palestinian colleague is going back to Jerusalem this weekend. When I was there with him a few months ago, I wrote about what that involves, but I didn’t mention that he was strip searched three times while I waited for him on the other side of the bridge crossing. At the end of an email exchange in which I expressed my concern about him crossing the border again, he wrote:

“Steadfastness ‘Somod’ as we say is a good peaceful weapon. When I feel disempowered, I think of others who experienced harder situations and kept strong along with my believes in justice, freedom, dignity, and integrity. I will need to find ways to express my rage, although I always believed in constructive actions that can bring change. In solidarity!”

There are parallels between his and Vince’s situations, not least of which, they’re about the same age.

I went through a long process of change when I was sent to the Palestinian Territories for work. My first reaction was, “Are you F—ing kidding? I’m Jewish!” [Since Vince is no longer at Moose Lake, surrounded by skinheads and brothers of the Nation of Islam, I can say that.)

Over a period of six months, “my thinking evolved,” as Barak Obama said about his position on gay marriage. I found some like-minded Jewish American activists who saw no problem with holding Israel to high standards. My rabbi said, “Maybe God thinks you’re the one to do this.” I don’t know about that, since I don’t believe in god and I can’t see myself as some sort of messiah—to the Palestinians! But he didn’t think I was a traitor to my people, that was a huge relief to me.

I could write volumes about this, but for this blog I’ll just say that I credit all my work in Alanon for helping me develop an open mind, a radar that tells me I’m in denial, and a willingness to try anything to feel better and get clarity. I am so glad I went on the trip. I could have easily refused to go, and missed a life-changing opportunity.

—

I moved less than a week after returning from that trip. That was two months ago, and now I will move again in three weeks. Yes, I found a condo to buy just a few weeks after I moved into my new apartment. Sometimes timing just isn’t great. But an unexpected benefit is that I won’t have to have the conversation with my landlord about Vince moving in.

In fact, when I called my landlord to find out about getting a subletter to finish out my lease, she told me the person would have to have 2.5 times income to rent, “and of course we don’t want any felons!” she laughed. She said it so lightly. She obviously isn’t related to any of the 47,000 ex offenders in Minnesota.

VINCE: [Ms. Maertz: Good news about getting the condo.  I know it’s nice to have a glass of wine or a beer in your own home.  But if you do while I’m there, I will get sent back to Moose Lake for 18 months.  So decide now if you think I should look for another residence. Love, Vince]

Rainbows and Unicorns

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VINCE

1800 hours. I’m sitting next to my bunk, facing a window that is letting in the most beautiful feeling I’ve had in a while: Sunlight.  Spring has sprung.  Soon we will be spending a large portion of our days outside.  The work they have us doing can be tough, but everything seems a little better when I’m outside.  I’m ready to….

Not sure why I didn’t finish my thought there.  Sometimes we just have to drop what we’re doing and go.

Today we moved the wood pile we created last week to a different spot for no other reason other than work as punishment.  Two hours I went back and forth with loads of wood.  I’m going to be a beast when I get out of here.

—

Ms. Maertz:

Every letter or card we send out has to be started with Mr, Mrs, Ms, etc.  Just policy.

Today I ran 3.3 miles.  I couldn’t believe it.  I’m pretty much the worst in my squad at running, but they were all cheering me on.  I am really good at marching.  You will get to see that at my graduation…assuming all goes well.  September 9th.

Today two new squads came from Moose Lake, so we’re not rookies anymore!

If you do know exactly or approximately the end date of your 6 month ban, be ready to send in another visitor form so you are approved to come to my graduation ceremony.  I keep hearing people talk about staff at Moose Lake banning people for minor issues.  I don’t get it, but I’m not there anymore.

I hope my writing is still entertaining enough for people to want to read.

Love,

Vince

—

[ANNE: I worry that, now Vince is doing well and appears to be on the road to a shiny happy life, people will get bored with the blog. Aren’t horror stories more entertaining?  Then I remind myself that Vince is a real person, not a character in a fictional narrative. I wish he would write more about his inner processes, or philosophize like I do, but he is not me.

It also doesn’t take me long to recall that the real test starts once Vince is released.  Right now, his food, shelter, and clothing are provided.  No bills.  No liquor stores or bars.  No music with drug references.  No women, and all the potential relationship stuff could go with them.  When he’s released, it will be with the clothes on his back and about $400, and every landlord and potential employer asking, “Have you ever been convicted of a felony?”  So on second thought, I’ll try to appreciate the present, positive moments.]

Cripple Girl

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ANNE

Mother’s Day has come and gone.  Vince had told me he wouldn’t be able to make any phone calls from boot camp for two months.  That’s standard procedure.  Why?  Who knows.  Maybe they want them focused on the program and not distracted by family and friends who could be unhealthy influences?

Vince sent me a postcard telling me he’d be able to call me on May 10, and to have my phone switched on and close by because he would call as early as possible and he was really looking forward to talking to me.  May 10 happened to be Mothers’ Day.  It was clear he had no idea it was Mothers’ Day.  After all, they have no television, no radio, no internet, no newspapers.  One of his big requests recently was for me to send him the weather forecast for the week so he could sort of know if he’d be running outside or not.

I thought it was a nice coincidence that the first day he could call me would also happen to be Mothers’ Day.

But Mothers’ Day came and went and he didn’t call.  But…May 12 would be exactly two months since he entered boot camp, so maybe he would call me that day…but no.  Then I got a postcard from him saying his first phone call “should be” May 17.  I guess it’s SNAFU at the DOC.  At least I am not going straight to the worst-case-scenario assumption, like I did for years: He’s dead!  They beat him to death and are covering it up!  They’re probably burying his body in the woods right now!”  And so on.

—

His postcard went on to say, “I can’t believe how much progress I have made.  I’ve lost 25 pounds and I’m now at 11.2% body fat.  Physical training, as it turns out, is beneficial in so many ways.  It’s the first thing we do every morning and it really sets the tone for the day.”

Well duh.  I’ve been an exerciser most of my life, and I can’t imagine life without it.  This is, I think, thanks to being diagnosed with scoliosis and having to wear a full body brace, 23 hours a day, for several years starting at age 12 or 13.

During the 24th hour, I could take a bath (not a shower) and do my physical therapy.  The doctors and my mother warn me that if I didn’t do my PT I might have to have surgery to implant a metal rod alongside my spine.  In retrospect I think surgery would have been easier, socially, than wearing a brace.  It’s no fun being called “cripple girl.”

Scoliosis_Fig07_en brace

But guess what?  Doing PT every day year after year created the habit of exercise.  So that brace was good for something, because now the medical profession knows that bracing doesn’t have any lasting straightening effect on scoliosis.

When I turned 16 I told the doctors at Shriners Hospital for Crippled Children to go fuck themselves (or at least I did in my head).  I wanted a boyfriend.  I found one.  I became a mother.

Vince moans and groans about the enforced exercise, but maybe the theory is that it’ll become a habit.  A good one, for once.

Whole Lotta @#%$

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VINCE

About twenty minutes ago we had our first monthly review.  I had high hopes that the worst of our group would be called out.  They were not.

I was pretty much passed by.  Mostly because I don’t get into too much trouble.  They did say that I need to challenge myself and run more.  To do that, I’m going to run on my off day, to see if I can build my stamina.  I’ve made a lot of progress since I was locked up nine months ago, but not enough.

I lost about two pounds and lost 1% body fat since I arrived here at boot camp.  It’s a start.  I can see in the mirror that I’m becoming muscular, toned.  I must work harder.  I will work harder.

—

30 days in boot camp and I can make my bed, iron nice creases into my khakis, and run farther than I ever thought I would.  If you would have asked me two years ago if I would ever run two miles total in my lifetime, I would have said, “Hahahahahahahahaha.”  You get the picture.

The point is, that I—we—are conquering the obstacles that seemed so daunting just a month ago.  We’re even starting to get along.  We still bicker, but what else could be expected, we live in the same room, shower, @&%$, and shave together.

—

My mother brought up a man named Kermit.  She didn’t include his last name or real first name but when I said them in my head, I became angry, which rarely happens.

Yes, I got to see the Red’s [baseball team] win the 1990 World Series right in front of my eyes.  It was cool as hell.  But that was probably the only highlight of that period of my life.

I remember where I was standing, on the back porch of our green apartment building on Dayton Avenue when she told me I had a brother.

Let that simmer.

photo-2

The third of four places we moved to in one year after the Kermit debacle.

—

In that same apartment, I remember getting a dog.  He was a sheltie, and I named him Flash.  He was…special.  Maybe flat out retarded.  And one time oh god it hurts me still to think about it, he ate an entire box of giant chocolate bars I had to sell for a school fundraiser, foil wrappers and all.

I know I don’t remember the correct sequence of events, but I know this: he @&%$ everywhere. He @&%$ outside, he @&%$ on himself.  He @&%$ on the piles of @&%$ that he had @&%$ on himself.  That was just outside.

Hoping he was done, we brought him inside so he wouldn’t freeze to death.  We shut him in the bathroom for the night, and when we opened the door in the morning, I will let my dear Mother take over from here because I am not allowed to use profanity in my writing.  Holy flippiin crap.  Nobody will ever see what we saw that morning.

[ANNE: I don’t care to elaborate on Vince’s dog story above. I am not a dog person, but I thought every boy ought to have one, right? Especially after what I had put Vince through with Kermit. I was wrong.

Vince says he rarely gets angry. Elsewhere in this blog, he writes about “anger coming off me like steam.” I wonder if he’s dulled his anger for years with chemicals, is just now experiencing it unfiltered, and doesn’t even recognize that?]

Still Prison

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VINCE:

10:45 pm

Another day done.  Tomorrow morning we run.  I still haven’t been able to go more than two laps, but that’s two more than I could have done 9 months ago.  I will give it my best shot tomorrow to go three laps, which is two miles.

The “A” run is a distant goal.  They run 7 laps, just under five miles, and they go fast.  Under eight minutes per mile.  I think I’ll be able to join them in two months.  We shall see.

5:53 am

Due to either weather or lack of staff there will be no running this morning.  This happens roughly half of our running days.  So we only get to do half of our aerobic workout which is why I’m writing now, sitting doing nothing.

—

On Friday we were allowed to go to the library for the first time since our arrival.  Only for ten minutes, we all (16 guys) scanned through maybe 500 titles, mostly religious.  I found two works of fiction to my liking: one I’ve read already during my incarceration. “Prey” by Michael Crichton, and “Lord of the Flies” by William Golding, something I’ve read but don’t remember where or when.  I think maybe grade school.

So today (Sunday) during my down day, I spent a few relaxing hours in the barracks with my ear plugs in reading.  It was quite nice.  I needed it.

I also played a few games of cribbage, all of which I lost, with one of my friends that will be in St. Paul when I get out.  Then I caught up on ironing, polishing my boots and buckle, treatment work, and writing.

—

Today was rough.  Tomorrow will be rougher.

I finally broke my personal record for running.  I’m still struggling with it, but today I ran 2.1 miles.  That’s half of what is expected, but more than some people can do.

Also today we used the same little green scrubber pads we use for our belt buckles to scrub the baseboards in the gym.  Back breaking labor, I think it could be referred to as.  It wasn’t really that bad.

I’ve been here over a month now.  Man has it flown by.  Tomorrow is our first review.  We’re going to be yelled at, we’re going to be scolded.  And they won’t really say nice things.  But, hey, this is still prison.  And I still have a lot to work on.  153 days until the real test.

I really miss talking to my mother.  I think we were getting closer than we ever have been, quite frankly I think as a result of this blog.  I’ve wasted so many years away from my family.  I hope I can become as close to them as I should already have been.