The gawdam Mud Run

(Pictured above, "Humble Beginnings". File this under "It seemed like a good idea at the time")

So during the half mara in June, I was tapped early run my friend Pogmyster. About 3 weeks later he sends a FB message w/a link to this Mud Run deal and asks if Team Awesome would be interested. I look it up and it looks like a dirty blast. Obstacle course. Mud. In my mind, a total throwback to Boy Scouts and Rum River when we'd race through tires/rope ladders/yeti ladders. I'm in without question. And the more people who I tell, the more they get interested. Soon enough, we have a team. (SupercalifragilisticixpyaSclerosis. Don't ask. RPK's idea won) Besides sounding awesome, it's for a good cause (Raising money for MS Prevention) and it started getting some friends into this running craze which has o'er took my girlfriend and addled my own brain.

Race day was on September 11th. Packet pick up the day before. I had my race costume picked out. (Torn up Spidey shirt, camo pants, bandana...natch, and my old running sneakers. Everything was meticulously planned out. The shoes'd be great, since I accidentally bought them slim so no fear of them falling off and they were still in good shape)

Then I read the race packet. And, as Moda would say later, it was intimidating. Most of the warnings were for the "formal teams", but the biggest was that it almost ORDERED you to wear combat boots/hiking boots b/c...it assured, you would twist your ankle or lose a shoe if you didn't. So my shoes were chucked in lieu of my 21 year old Asolo trail boots. Fine. When we got up that morning, it was cold. (Strike one) Moda wasn't happy (Strike two) and the course was over at Trollhaugen...which was a ski course. Which meant that it could be 10K of the same type of trail we struggled through when we tackled Afton mid-summer. (Strik...eff it. We pocketed our mutual bad attitudes. Or at least vented on the commute)

On the way out there, I made relentless fun of the douchey race packet by lampooning all the rules they established...for example:

"If you're in a team of women...and you don't have hard nipples after the race for next years promotional pamphlets...you're disqualified"
"If you're not cold and miserable by the end of the race, we will be spraying you with a freezing hose and pelting you with mud balls that we froze the night before. Or you're disqualified"
"If you complain before the race and we hear you, we'll ridicule you...call you gay or something...and you'll be disqualified"
"If we don't find at least 78% of your team attractive...you'll be disqualified. Ugly."

It's amazing what's funny at 7am on a cold Saturday morning.

Our team grouped. We waited an indeterminable amount of time while announcers announced things (We couldn't hear a GD thing. The speakers faced the crowd and not the runners. There was probably some good advice in there somewhere) The banner was sang and spangled. And then there was the gun, and us in our uncomfortable shoes. And then? Things went kind of downhill.

I know this isn't brief, but I'll try and keep it Cliff Notesy. Before you've traveled 100 feet there is a knee-deep pool of water. And then a second. Whee. It was here I was almost elbowed in the face. (In case you're wondering, it's hard to run in water. In boots) And when I exited the 2nd pool...that's about when my boots decided to keep the water in them. For the rest of the run. And as we went up our first hill and down the massive ski hill and hit the bottom to re-group, that's when I realized this wasn't going to be a proper run at all. What you had was:

• A trail run. Complete with all the lousy ass hills. And they were steep. And many. Even unencumbered and in trail shoes it'd have been challenging. And they were. I confess that by the last hill, I almost gave up. I'm not proud.
• The trail was punctuated by mini-ponds. That smelled of sewage. By the 2nd pond, you didn't notice.
• Dickhead Course Guides. Oh, they thought they were funny. But they would say stupid shit like "Last hill!!!" or "It's all downhill after this!" around the 3rd or 4th mile. Which is dick race behavior. (Never give a runner false information about the course. Ever.) I had to quell a fight at mile six when another runner started shouting at a course guide that they were lying (In regards to the final distance. I told them there was only .2 miles remaining)
• Injuries. Our team sustained a few, with the visible ones being some nasty bruises/abrasions. There were these successive "hurdles" made out of logs which got progressively higher. At this point, my boots were so sodden that swinging my leg over was akin to swinging a ball and chain. Meaning, I'd throw my leg and it the momentum would take you farther than anticipated. Which meant the last one I went up, over, back down, and landed flat on my back knocking the wind out of me and seeing stars. It was so loud, Moda screamed.
• The shoe debacle...Those...f#cks. I would have been fine with my trainers. More than fine. Besides feeling like I had two cinderblocks tied to my feet (Go on. Strap on three leg weights. I'll be here. Go upstairs. Then back down. No fun, huh?) The silt and mud wedged it's way into the top most portion, causing a mounting pressure. I've never experienced swollen ankles but my feet were pins and needles by the end. I lost a sole and was running off-kilter due to being 1/2 taller on one side. (If you see the picture of Moda and I finishing? That's not a strong finish) I had to throw my boots away at the end.
• IT WAS FIXED! Not really. But after the one, ONE obstacle I couldn't do (The cargo net ladder. I got to the top, and couldn't get my heavy foot over. Sorry) there was a rope walk with a rope to hold onto. And the assholes started shaking the rope midway across. I actually looked at the gal doing it and very seriously and deadly told her not to touch the fucking rope. At that point I would have went back and threw her in the water below us. (Thing is, I later found out they were video taping that point and wanted some footage of people falling in for the website next year)

But we made it. The last of our team. We finished at about 2:20, more than double either of our PRs for "normal" 10Ks. We could barely walk back to the car and slowly disrobed and changed. We didn't even have the energy to get hosed off...we just got into dry clean clothes and called it a day.

Did I mention my 45 minute shower? Yeah. I ate a pound or so of mud when we did the crawl toward the end. That was the worst. Not being able to see came in second. I think I went through 17 Q-tips just trying to flush out my ears. Gross Gross Gross...

And do you want to know the really, really fucked up thing? After all that grousing and complaining. After all that pain? After doing what is now arguably one of the toughest physical challenges I've ever engaged in? Even harder than the 1/2 marathon?

Is talking about what we'd do differently next year. Shoes. Clothes. (My Spidey shirt? Big Badda Idea. The first water hazard I took in all this mud and water. It looked like total muffin top. And since I tucked in my shirt, it stayed. Yummy) Definitely a pair of trail shoes or something that won't retain water. And an UnderArmour top that has a tight lycra turtleneck. And...

What? I mentioned it was for a good cause, right?





The first "under" hazard. We had yet to become our dirtiest. And at least we didn't have to submerge on this one.

Around mile 4-5. Amy, Michelle (We adopted her when her team bailed) Pog (Trying to hide from Predators) Moda, and I. I'm not smiling. I'm unhappy.
The posed ending. At one point, our team was clothed in vibrant colors. The true ending had me wanting to leave and get a beer. Some dude told me walking backwards helped him to his car.
Pam N' Sam...our alter egos. Moda looks like she's mall-walking and I managed to make a running pose but we're actually doing a zombie shuffle to get across the finish line. Not pictured, mud-streaked tears of anguish.

Case of the runs...

So 2010 is clearly the year of the race. The last post I made about running was somewhere post half-marathon and in spite of thinking it'd be a one-time thing I ended up participating in a crap-ton more races. With July being a clear winner in terms of number of runs.

July 3rd was a 10K around Lake Harriet. We had a large number of buddy participants and while I PR'ed I also started cramping up pretty hard toward the end of the second loop. I put on speed when the finish was near and ended up almost throwing up and the guy who smoked past me.

We volunteered at the Red, White, and Boom the next day. I ended up meeting some folks who Moda was getting to know on the local running forums. Volunteering at water stops etc. creates good "race karma" I'm told. Unloading the 7 trucks on a 98 degree day creates a lot of perspiration. And the wetness doesn't end- We headed over to the water stop to set up and ended up getting drenched in a monsoon. (We wore garbage bags as makeshift rain suits) Still, this is the first race I'd ever watched and it's great to feel the appreciation from the runners.

July 21st was the Aquatennial 5K. I PR'ed and had a Jabasian running partner which was swell. It was a big frassy mess of people and instead of waiting in line for the free beers we all moseyed over to the Bulldog. Yahoo. I also realized that I wear a "race costume". This is my theme. And I love it.

The Villagefest 5K was on August 7th and by this point we had registered for the Mud Run. Dangler and FeeJ ran this one with me and finished with extremely respectable times. For my part, I did not throw up. And finished with a new PR.

It's around here that I want to note that running has become steadily easier. We had some bitchin' trail runs that were a pain in the ass when it got so hot it felt like you were breathing soup. (Afton was mostly trail hike/run. And I mentioned Hyland being our first epic trail run) But now when we get outside, going 5 or 6 miles is light. This was coming off our first 10K where crossing the street afterwards was treacherous. Now going 2-3 days without running makes me feel sluggish. I'm still a pudgy puffy pancake, but I'm liking the way my legs are feeling/looking. For real.

The final test run we went on prior to the Mud Run was the Victory 10/5K on Labor Day. Mo smoked us (of course) Dangler smoked me wearing his race costume (Or as I call it "Business Casual Fitness" Khaki shorts? Really?) And FeeJ and I plopped in w/our own PRs that were sub-60. (A goal I desperately wanted) Almost puked. Didn't. Yahoo again.

Finally...the gawdamn Mud Run. That warrants a post to itself. And pictures. Jesus.

Shi...I mean shoot. (And 15 films)

A blog I started in June posted...around the June stuff. So you'll have to scroll down. I'll have a more catch-uppy blog to hopefully flesh out the goings on from the last 4 months or so, in the mean time you'll have to be content w/this meme I bogarted from Frassbook.

It originally had asked for 15 movies that "made you think" or made an impression of some sort and while I could've easily pulled an extra 10 outta my tail I think forcing myself to be concise is a good thing. What I'm gonna share is some of the reasons why these films affected me. Or f#cked me up for life. Whichever.

1. The Empire Strikes Back (Yeah. Star Wars broke the mold. We all saw it. We all bought the toys. Got freaked out. It was great. But there was this feeling...that ANOTHER one was coming out. And there was a secret. A big reveal. And almost nobody knew what it was until they saw it. And since everyone and their cat was at the UA theatre in Brooklyn Center there was no hope of being spoiled ahead of time. I remember hearing a rumor in 1980 that someone at an early showing actually THREW UP in the theatre when they saw what Darth Vader REALLY looked like. I remember the line that snaked around the building. Just. Wow. And I was 6 years old)

2. Mississippi Burning (I watch this once a year. And you should too. And it makes me sick to my stomach. And it's an incredible, incredible story. )

3. Requiem for a Dream (Pretty much started the kick of "Great Films I'll Never Watch Again". If you can make it through Ellen Burstyn's monologue- And if you've seen it, you know the monologue- without crying? I admire you being able to function with what clearly is a piece of tin foil and ammonia in lieu of a heart)

4. Happiness (The protagonist...is...a pedophile. Who, Gods help us...we root for. See above for reasons to never give this film a second viewing. Solondz is really, really great at making these movies. And thank you for that. Now I need to go bleach out my eyes)

5. Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan (Hey. Big spoiler. Spock dies. And having been Trekkily influenced as a kid, seeing a favorite lead character pass made me more scared of death than when Obi-Wan was struck down. And yeah. The eulogy and the bagpipes. Ugh)

6. The Passion of the Christ (Knee jerk, knee jerk, knee jerk. So good old Nutty Mel makes this snuff film. And it didn't leave my mind for days. My friend and I who saw this needed to go to Houlihan's afterward for a drink- probably not the most Christian thing, mind. But she was bawling her eyes out. And. Jesus. Exposed rib cage shot?)

7. Mulholland Drive (Right. So admittedly I was buzzed when I saw this at a couple friends house on their big ass TV with booming surround sound. And they laughed and asked "Any questions?" when they saw my face. I was genuinely freaked out when the homeless person jumped out after the diner scene. Stomach churning and surreal. Makes you feel stoned)

8. Inglorious Basterds (I threw this on because it's still pretty fresh, and will probably go into it more when you get to #11- But like Ralph Fiennes in "SL" Hans Landa is the most despicable villain in the last 10 years. Period. And fills you with menace every. Single. Scene. Even when eating a pastry)

9. Jaws (Thank you. Thank you, Peter Benchley. I know now, as an adult, that they are amazing creatures of nature. And yet, even in a river? A lake? A gawdamn man-made pond in Maple Grove? There are gawdamn beasties down there. Waiting)

10. The Fox and the Hound (Disney at it's most miserable. Almost 10 years away from their Mermaid/Beast/Aladdin'ed renaissance. We'd watched reel to reels of Bambi and the rest, but for my money this one cracked my little child soul in two. It was a time when Disney truly had no mama. Clearly brought on by their hatred of Star Wars and 20th Century Fox, no doubt)

11. Schindler's List (Right. Let me start by saying the same thing I say to one of my besties who see's a ton of shit in the theatre. When I asked him if he saw this, he said he and his cousin...his cousin who lives over an hour away...saw it at Har Mar and didn't speak the entire trip back. Then asked me to see it and not talk about it. Well I made a special trip up to the local Hollywood Video and rented this 2 tape bad boy- and watched it with my dad. And we didn't speak for nearly three hours. Even at the intermission when we both took turns in the bathroom. And then it went in the rewinder when it was over, and we went to our rooms, and never said another word. And that, friends, is my opinion of a powerful film)

12. Braveheart (An old friend said it best- "It made what little Scottish I have in my heritage want to jump out of my body and shout".)

13. The Matrix (Did not want. My friend ran to the front of the video store with it and I told him the day I sit through a movie with "Bill and Ted" dude was not going to happen. Instead, we sat in his apartment watching on his little toaster sized TV and I proceeded to have my mind blown. And then 4 years later watch a sequel that taught me new ways to be disappointed)

14. Ghostbusters (Take a comedy class. Wait. On second thought, don't waste your time. Don't. Watch this film. When I first saw this as a kid, my mom and I went when my big brother was on a fishing trip with my dad. And I screamed like a girl during the first ten minutes, then figured out what being funny was in the last 110. And it still holds up)

15. The Mist (Well. Hollywood. Thank you for having the balls to have one of the bleakest endings of any film in 20 odd years. Jesus)

(Honorable mentions)

"The Cell" (And alternatively "The Fall". Tarsem is an artist, no doubt. Trip. Pee.)

"The Pianist" (The piano playing scene-where he can't even touch the keys...broke my heart)

"A Time to Kill" (It's no Mississippi Burning. And kind of a flawed film. But it stuck)

"Saving Private Ryan" (C'mon dude. On second thought, no. I'm like the rest of the world on this one. The first 10 minutes. Hard. To. Stomach.)

"The Dark Knight" (More Hollywood balls. Not to sucker down and make another "cartoony" villain. Having a "please, please, please don't shoot the kid" ending. Wow)

"The Lord of the Rings" (Because homeslice please- PLEASE! I can't even think of a film where we were waiting in pants shitting impatience for the next one to come out- and then how we were going to live after it had left the theaters)

I owe the world a blog

It's coming. Promise. It's coming...

It seemed like a good idea at the time...

Morning, all! There's a funny new website I'd like to direct your attention to:
http://www.mykitchenfailures.com/

Definitely worth a chuckle and more tongue in cheek than the hippo site. Reading it, however, got me thinking about two things: (A) We haven't updated the hippo site in ages. Frass. And (2) I had an epic failure of such proportion, the likes of which should be uttered never more...which is a fancy pants way of saying I f#cked up something that seemed like a good idea at the time. (I won't even terrorize you with the risotto incident. When Moda's away the Mikey will play? Hardly. I'll just f#ck up dinner)

First off, let's just say I love shopping w/Mom. And not for the "Hey I'm gonna get free stuff" angle but I like being able to play faux nutrition expert when she makes her choices. A few month's ago, we went out to dinner in the Ridgedale area and afterwards she mentioned she wanted to pick up a few things at TJ's. Awesome! So we loped over there and meandered for a bit, picking up bits and bots and turning mom on to the awesomeness which are freeze dried wasabi peas as a snack. Before completing her purchase, my eyes were drawn to these little morsels:


That's right...mixing the two most awesome foods in the world: Seafood AND Sausage? It HAD to be good. And b/c Moda made a vom face, I opted to cook it while she went on her road trip. So while they were thawing, I read the ingredients which played out like a list of all white fish mashed together. I was anxious to get the things on the grill when I noticed the explicit instruction: "Pan Fry or Bake only- Do NOT Grill" ...oooookay?

So into the pan they went while I spent the next 20 minutes carefully turning them. Boy were they smoky. No...really...they're issuing billows of black smoke. In spite of the windows being open, I had to bring the fans downstairs. (Note to self- Next big reno project? A ductless vent/fan for over the stove)

Finally they were done...or at least they must have been with all the rigmarole that went into extricating them from the pan. And for the curious, yes. They were awful. Not wholly unpalateable, just. Well they downright tasted bad. And I made it through 2.5 before tossing the lot. (I had to eat'em. Mom bought them, after all) The worse part? Well the beginning worst part was the spatter, which had managed to cover the wall next to and behind the stove/side of the microwave with an oily fish goo that took ample amounts of 409 to remove.

The really worst part? The smell...In spite of cleaning everything top to bottom, twice, my kitchen retained that smell for the next two weeks. My roommate, ever the thinker and lover of incense burned sandalwood ad infintum with the windows down. Which only served to mask the fish smell with a woody sweetness.

What I've learned is: Fish and sausage are definitely not chocolate and peanut butter. And to relegate the sausage to grill-outside- where any smoky failures can just dissapate in the wind.

<---Trader Joe's Fail.

Late-A-Whirl!

You come back to write with some nearly 5 month old bull crap and this is what you bring us? Really, P? Leave me the frack alone. This was the first saved post from May.

I can't afford art, and have a terrible eye for it. Even the stuff I convince myself I like I talk myself out of. (Example- Currently, where the copy of the Declaration of Independence was hanging on my stairwell, now exists a caricature picture drawn of my best friend and I from the Taste of MN circa 1995. Which meant he still had colored dreads and I still had a gap in my teeth. And he was stoned. There, I said it. And Moda hates it, and I'm just too lazy to take it down. And it is ridiculous.

Anyway, we finally got our buns out Art-A-Whirlin' and Johnstocking. The best thing I ended up finding was actually the most practical thing. Located in the Casket Farts building, was a little shop that specialized in glazing/pottery/cookware. Their casserole dishes had glazed in recipes, as did their mixing bowls (for dips, etc.) and while they were all pretty I ended up with the dumbest of all- A spatula/spoon/turner rest for your stove top:

Moda is the happy owner of the blue twin, and let's be real- It's a pretty smart deal when you think about it. Dishwasher safe. Image emblazoned with what you are supposed to set on it for the dipshittedly challenged. It had to be mine, of course. (And buying a set of soup bowls with soup recipes? Really? They're called cans, lady. And they contain. Soup) So yeah. Me for the win.

This next guy...well I took a picture of it at Rewind! (The local vintage shop, while Moda looked for cowboy boots) This was purely a nostalgia image that I'm pretty sure will only have an emotional impact for my mom, brother, and I.

Yes, a knit hat with Olympia beer cans sewn into it. If they had an empty drum of Carter Hill pipe tobacco with change in it I probably would have gotten teary.

See, when we were really little kids during the summer and dad was at work (this'd be before mom went back to school full time to get her RN degree) we'd don our dungaree's and Olympia hats, hit the Taystee bakery outlet for a couple of boxes of small glazed donuts (in a little blue box. I think they were called "Mickey Cakes") toss the Popeil Pocket Fisherman and a few other kid-sized fishing rods in the back of the Pinto and hit the Coon Rapids Dam area for some fishing. Occasionally, we'd detour to this local cemetery to picnic (Don't ask. Their was a really old tombstone with a lamb on top my mom thought was "neat") and when we fished we usually only pulled up carp, sunnies, or bullheads...but we always wore those stupid hats.

If I didn't think the $25 price tag was enough to pay for nostalgia, I'd have bought it.

Good bye, West Coast

The last day out was fairly uneventful so feel free to skip and slide to future entries-

We slept in as late as our bodies allowed us after polishing off all that wine and while I packed Mo wrote a message to the owners with our kindest regards. In skidaddling back to Portland, we took the most direct route which wound up being probably the most twisty and stomach churning commute through the hillside (Seriously. Moda started to get ill) Before stopping for breakfast at this little roadside dive. (The kind where I ordered a Spanish Omelette which, in their estimation, meant scrambled eggs with a jar of salsa dumped on it.) Nourished, we headed back.

With some time to kill before stopping at L and D's, we had beerz in the sunshine on the patio at the Kennedy School. Then it was a gas up ($50?!?!) a car drop off (bye, Impala), and the airport. The trip was w/o incident, and we were able to jack into the lil' TV's so we could watch cable movies and kill time. (btw- "The Talented Mr. Ripley" ain't got no momma)

Oh, and they lost my mo-fo'ing luggage.

"Is that where the pirate ship was supposed to come from?" (Day 6)

(Ed. Note- The Christmasbaby Blog is going to be a play by play of our trip to Portland last week. What you'll be reading, matey's, is my observances/experiences of the trip for your amusement. Links to applicable restaurants/sites will be included in case you're planning a trip any time soon. Dates listed are from Saturday, June 12th through Friday the 18th.)

Today was a great day and a little sad since it marked our final full day on the West coast but it beside the wedding it was the day I was most excited about- Cannon Beach. Ocean. Salt water. And while I wasn't planning on body surfing in that chilly nonsense I was bound and determined to (A) check out Haystack Rock where the filmed the ending of "The Goonies" and (B) get my feet wet.

We breakfasted at Wanda's Cafe' and Bakery in Nehalem which was awwwesome. (http://www.restaurantica.com/or/nehalem/wandas-cafe-bakery/23322650/) Moda opted for the Huevo's Rancheros and I dug into an omelete with scallions/asparagus/goat cheese with a side of chicken apple sausage (Yum). Highly recommended. Then it was off to da beach!
http://www.cannon-beach.net/

We doffed our kicks and went for a lovely walk to the rock, stopping to splash a bit here and there and not really minding the chill. (And you damn straight I wore my Hawaiian Chunk shirt. I refrained, however, from truffling or shuffling. Nobody wants to see that) We checked out the anemones, starfish, and other wildlife. And man. That's a big frickin' rock. However it did prompt the question from Mo "Is that where the pirate ship was supposed to come out of?"

A fine misty drizzle started up on our way back to the car and I was sort of saddened to know that we'd be missing the fun upcoming stuff like the sandcastle building contest and the beach front 10K. (How awesome would that have been?!?) It was that kind of day. What we were in the mood for after our little hike was a good Bloody Mary and some snick snacks before heading out. And where else would we have gone besides Mo's? Of COURSE we went to Mo's.
http://www.moschowder.com/home.cfm?dir_cat=13368 (And did someone pick up an ironic hoodie with the name of the restaurant? OF COURSE SHE DID!) It was pretty damn good chowder, but I was a little surprised that they were "out" of oysters. The BM was pretty good and we split a "Mo's" ale. OF COURSE WE DID!

Overall, and enjoyable day that started sunning up once we left. OF COURSE IT DID! Final thought on the beach- I was actually surprised that they didn't have one piece of "Goonies" related schwag or a sign or anything up and about. That must've been saved for Astoria up the road.

We peddled up the coast to Seaside, stopping for coffee and to poke our noses into the local museum before heading back to the lodge. (Having decided that it would be criminal NOT to stay a second night at the quaint hot tub lodge. OF COURSE WE DID!) After popping into some antique stores we went back to the room where we alternately watched the sunset on the porch steps, read, drank wine, schmoogled the friendly local cats, and (in my case) napped before we couldn't take much more serenity and were ready for dinner. Our first choice, a cute little bistro across the street, was closed for seating for the evening so we doubled back and headed over to the Sea Shack-http://www.theseashack.biz/

Capitalizing on our 10% local restaurant discount, we had made another intial trip promise that we'd have some "really awesome seafood". While the seafood and ambience didn't disappoint (we were seated in a quiet area with a terrific view of the sunset over the bay) it wasn't, uber-remarkable? Moda's salmon was delicious but hard to navigate when it was swimming in butter. My dungeness crab was savory and delightful but I forgot how much of a pain in the ass it can be toward the end. (All the cracking and the dah bah dee bah doo. Rigamarole)

We hoofed it back for more hottub time and wound down by making short work of our vineyard wine and watching "He's just not that into misogynitic Rom-Com's that set back the woman's movement 45 years..." What? That movie sucked taint.

When Wine-ing is a good thing. (Day 5)

(Ed. Note- The Christmasbaby Blog is going to be a play by play of our trip to Portland last week. What you'll be reading, matey's, is my observances/experiences of the trip for your amusement. Links to applicable restaurants/sites will be included in case you're planning a trip any time soon. Dates listed are from Saturday, June 12th through Friday the 18th.)

No sleeping in for the wicked! Everyone was up and bustling to get packed and moving. After a quick breakfast we KP'ed as best we could and spread hugs as Moda and I were on our way for our solo jaunt to the sea. It was also the 1st full day of misty gray that didn't go away. I confess that this sort of colored my mood. My bad.

Our 1st stop was the David Hill Winery (http://www.davidhillwinery.com/) where we were impressed enough to walk away with 3 bottles. I also learned that the wine tastings are ridiculously informal. You pay. Stand at the counter. And swill. (For some reason I thought it'd be a swanky affair)

Then next stop was the Montinore Winery where our Boston Celtics loving pourer chatted us up and we discovered the local "wine kitty". (It was cute, and I missed Georgie) It was about here that I get an urgent message from my temp agency that sounded suspiciously like I was getting the "let go" message. No good. Fortunately they were just checking in, but for about 10 minutes I had that stomach dropping feeling I'd be getting home to unemployment. This, friends, is what really colored my day.

We were back on track to hit the Tillamook Cheese Factory -(http://www.tillamookcheese.com/VisitorsCenter/) First of all, TIllamook smells like Iowa. Cow. Shit. Central. We hadn't eaten since breakfast so we were both peckish and punchy. The factory itself was kind of disturbing. People mill in and out because it's free and they get free cheese. Watching them process the big, shiny blocks was...weird. Not cool. Weird.

Then it was back out. We finally "saw" the ocean and began our trial in finding a inexpensive place to put us up. I was able to get my kicks off and my feet wet in spite of the drizzle. So that mission was accomplished. But I tell you, we must have stopped in a half a dozen places and it was all expensive nonsense. (And to the offices that didn't have anyone in them? Rude)

Eventually we found our way into Wheeler where we found our gem. Tired and a little disgruntled I mosey'd into the this place on the bay armed w/my usual questions (How much, do they accept AAA, etc.) The owner gave me the rundown on the inexpensive rooms, also volunteering that they rent out 2 movies, supply breakfast food, and have free books and games. I mean, watch their video. They're adorable. *(http://www.wheeleronthebay.com/)

I told him I'd consult my companion and get back to him. We meandered to the lodgings closest to the bay and discovered their "suites"- They have their own matching Adirondacks on a "porch" as well as a hot tub. It was a little out of our price range, but eff it. We booked it. And it turns out that you get 10% your tab at the local eateries. So we "rented" "Shitter Island" and "He's just not that into you", were given the low-down on the Lodge kitties ("Don't let them into your room") and got ourselves cozy. Dinner was right across the street at Tsunami (Not great, but definitely serviceable- http://www.facebook.com/pages/Wheeler-OR/Tsunami-Bar-and-Grill/288516621536) and did we crack open some wine, bundle up and read on the porch, hot tub, then watch a flick? You're damn straight.


ps- ICYC, most pictures are up on FB to all my gentle readers who prefer visual aids. Coming up tomorrow? GOONIES ROCK!

I just can't quit you, Switchback Mountain...Day 4)

(Ed. Note- The Christmasbaby Blog is going to be a play by play of our trip to Portland last week. What you'll be reading, matey's, is my observances/experiences of the trip for your amusement. Links to applicable restaurants/sites will be included in case you're planning a trip any time soon. Dates listed are from Saturday, June 12th through Friday the 18th.)

The Right Reverend and I rolled out of bed reasonably early and strangely ambulatory (read: Not hungover) on our final day at the Sheraton Airport. While I packed and collected Moda hit the fitness center while I mulled over brefkist ideas from the bride and groo- Scratch that. Husband and wife's list. We opted for the the Cricket Cafe' in SE Portland as a hot ticket after perusing the menu and hearing that their Bloody Mary's are par excellence'. (Peruse, please. I'll wait. http://cricketcafepdx.com/)

On our way there we got to experience our first real Portland rain. You get a lot of preconceived notions of OR/NW seaboard weather from stories and residents. How it's gloomy, on par with-say-London. High suicide rates. Blah. It wasn't so bad IMO, just strange. The sun cracked through patches of clouds and the rain comes down in a fine drizzly mist. Not proper rain at all. Non-committal. Enough to maybe kibosh that day in the park you had planned but not enough to get your hopes up that it'd clear later on. Antagonistic rain.

Pulling up to the Cricket I saw the weirdest thing- A big ol' frassy raven was drinking out of a tiny creamer pitcher @ a recently vacated table, and every time it lifted it's head the beak was shock white where it'd been drinking. Nothing major here, folks. Just a weird image.

Oh, and breakfast? Made of awesome. The BM's were my favorite on the trip so far.

We decided to kill some time waiting for Shade and Krump down at the Sound Grounds coffee house (http://www.soundgroundscoffee.com/) when the real rain hit. And I mean, a persistent dump. My previous comments about noncommittal precipitation? Erroneous. We all tried to come up with a plan B (today was going to be hikes etc.) but after being unable to agree on a movie we all split up, with Krump/Moda/Myself deciding after an optimistic break in the rain that we'd try checking out Multnomah Falls. http://trips.stateoforegon.com/multnomah_falls/

Located about 1/2 hour out of Portland, the falls were a breathtaking spectacle to see first hand up close. We managed to get our tourist on and snap some pics on the bridge before deciding to hike the 1.5 miles up to the tippy-top. From here (and the lower points of the trail) everything was hunky dory...until we reached the 1st market that stated "Switchback 1 of 11".

Fudge.

See, Moda likes to make fun of my dislike of hills but it is a very real aggravation. Switchbacks are the hill equivalent of the annoying little brother who puts their hand an inch in front of your face and says "I'm not touching yooooou". The most direct way up may be arduous, but switchbacks make you act like you're in a live action version of a game of Donkey Kong. Crap, I hadn't even thought about them since '89 when we were in Scouts and hoofed it through the Teton's humping 40+ lbs worth of gear. And here I was in a sweatshirt at "Switchback 1 of 11"...("This one goes to 11...") already frassin.

Well, except the trail was about as wide as a phone book, slick from condensation from the falls, and right next to a sheer drop. Fun. We made it, took touristy pics, headed back down (by this time I was sweating then getting chilled. My dumb hands were turning icy-blue) and back to Portland proper. Enough with nature...let's bring on the sushi and beer. (Technically, we swung into a nice little Cuban bistro "Pambiche" for some snick snacks first. THERE WAS SO MUCH TO TRY! http://www.pambiche.com/ I should also add, that nary an evening went by w/o my eating black beans in one form or another)

We met up again with Shade at the Laurelthirst Pub where we took in some free bluegrass and toodled our way through the beer list. http://mysite.ncnetwork.net/res8u18i/laurelthirstpublichouse/id4.html

Fromt there, we started to head to our next overnight destination which was where S and L were staying in Lake Oswego (a fancy pants manor) but Shade was adamant we try this great sushi house ("There's usually a wait, but it's my favorite sushi place in the area") called Saburo. The wait was in fact prohibitive, but not bad enough that we didn't tough it out and boy howdy was it worth it. We gorged on these enormous rolls (almost too much so. You could barely get a grip w/your chopsticks and it was an even bigger struggle to get them in your mouth.) and for the 2nd time on the trip I had to ogle the bill and say "This can't be right..." Wow. http://saburos.com/Sushi/Saburos.html

We navigated through the Lake Oswego tangle town (passing a Ninjutsu school. For real. Ninjutsu) before settling in for our last chill night in Portland.

Today is a very special day...

(Ed. Note- The Christmasbaby Blog is going to be a play by play of our trip to Portland last week. What you'll be reading, matey's, is my observances/experiences of the trip for your amusement. Links to applicable restaurants/sites will be included in case you're planning a trip any time soon. Dates listed are from Saturday, June 12th through Friday the 18th.)


I burbled out of my slumber enough to have some coffee and drive Moda to L and D's then make it back. I feel like I had my route fairly well planned so my initial anxiety was waning. I got back to the hotel, started stretching for another shoulder rehab session/4 miler when the texts started coming- Turns out I needed to belay getting lunch, as there were three similar restaurants in the Portland Metro and the address I had may have been wrong, and to stay tuned.

Right. I was in it now. My contribution and participation into wedding frass was ON!

After a flurry of texts, I hit the gym then the hotel lobby PC's for some quality Google Map time where I printed off copy after copy (Thank you, Sheraton Portland Airport! For having free interweb and printing!) of directions from the hotel to the different locations and then out to the site. The final text was an 80% certainty that they knew the right locale so it was shower up, load the car, and head on out.

2 quick notes. I was wearing a tank top, shorts, and sandals. My finery was still in the drycleaning bag and I didn't want to start sweating 8 hours before the service. (My body was still on overheat mode from the treadmill) Today, was the first marked drop in temperature since we arrived- floating around the mid-50's. While I was comfortably cooling off with the windows down, greater Portland was shuffling about in hoodies, jeans, and gloves. I stopped in a convenience store and the clerk asked if it'd started warming up. Yeah.

2nd? Google maps is about as useful as an a@@hole on my elbow. I ended up running a big, unnecessary and frassy loop around the SE neighborhoods before arriving. Lame sauce.

I arrived at "Whole Bowl" and noticed they were stacking a box for a group which looked like it could be going to a wedding (score!) When I mentioned I was with the wedding they were full of congratulations to me (NO NO NO!!! Not I, friends!) After securing better directions to hwy 84 and buckling in our order, I was at last on my way. (FYI- On Whole Bowl? Okay, how dumb and simple is this idea- They serve one thing and one thing only= basically a rice bowl with accouterments. Right? But it was ridiculously filling, tasty as all get out, and fairly cheap. There was a line when I got there, and I got there when they opened. http://thewholebowl.com/what.html. This is a place that could/should sell at any of our co-ops. In other words, it belongs in Minneapolis.)

After heading out of Dodge, wending my way into Middle Earth, I arrived at the site-
http://bridalveillakes.com/

Idyllic doesn't even describe it. You're in a bowl of heaven. With a little pond to canoe around, filled with salamanders. Trails. Games. Creeks. And one of the most breathtaking (I said it) views of a sunset around.

And it was balls cold. Here's me, the Sasquatch, in my shorts and sandals and people are bundled in blankets- huddling by the fire. There was plenty to do to finish up before we all needed to get our gussy on (namely, try some of the local OR beers they had on tap) and before we knew it it was time to get ready.

The service was lovely. The bride and groom looked wonderful. There was the pre-requisite ring-bearer biff. Moda was great (more than a few folks recommended the clergy as a second profession). And it ended with all of us opening white umbrella's while they marched off from the ceremony. Pip wOOt Hollah for married friends. After dinner, a canoe trip w/Moda, a stellar sunset, cigars, speeches, and much, much wine we headed off. I periodically snoozed in the car and we passed out before our heads hit the pillows.

Final thoughts-
7 months of drizzle with 5 of sunshine. The plant life/foliage/flowers are everywhere and in constant bloom. The place is sick with produce and as I was later informed, everything comes up around there except for veggies that need a lot of hot sun. (Tomatoes, etc.) Honestly, I was loving the climate and as much as my soul loves the desert I could very much get used to being able to sleep with the windows down nightly in the summer.

Congratulations, L and D. We're so proud of you.

We're going to party...in a school? (Day 2)

(Ed. Note- The Christmasbaby Blog is going to be a play by play of our trip to Portland last week. What you'll be reading, matey's, is my observances/experiences of the trip for your amusement. Links to applicable restaurants/sites will be included in case you're planning a trip any time soon. Dates listed are from Saturday, June 12th through Friday the 18th.)


Moda dreamt of chasing down frogs to cut off their legs...I had weird dreams of being chased... That's what late nights and rich delicious food'll do to you I guess.

I woke up way too early for having had way too late a night but my shoulder was not letting me turn on my right side so after tossing and turning for a few hours I gave up and decided to try out the fitness center for some rehab. My ROM was terrible and I could barely lift anything on my right side but it was nice to get running again since I realized that it'd been only a week since the 1/2 marathon and only the 3rd time I'd ran since completing it.

After we properly awoke, we decided to keep trying places on L and D's recommendation list and try bloody Mary's/breakfast at a popular P-town restaurant, the Tin Shed. (http://tinshedgardencafe.com/) After a wait on the patio reading we were sat in about 45 minutes. (In town, if a place is good AND popular be prepared to wait a while) The food was delicious, and also where I discovered OR's peculiar bloody habit- Instead of a pickle they add a pickled green bean to their BM's. Not so jarring that it'd ruin it but a strange taste sensation regardless. Moda was a big fan of her 'Mary. For my part, I was content. We headed back to the hotel for a power nap hoping we could squeeze in more activities b4 the Bride/Groom dinner that evening buuuut....Boom.

Fast forward 2.5 hours. Whoops.

We woke up with enough time to shower and toodle around the neighborhood pre-dinner where we checked out Powell's world famous bookstore (powells.com - To be fair, we wandered in to the cookbook store first before finding the used bookstore proper. Very cool, and would be an easy way to kill an hour or more.) We then headed out to school.

Now, the idea of an old school getting converted into living space isn't a new one. (The Porkchops used to live in an apartment that, I believe, was the cafeteria section in Uptown on 34th and Dupont) When I first heard that the party was here I didn't give it a second thought until I re-read the itinerary and said "Holy s#it. Holy S#IT!" (http://mcmenamins.com/427-kennedy-school-home) Class rooms converted into event space, smattered with hotel rooms that still have chalk boards? The gym pool is now the hotel pool? Two full service bars? The detention hall is now a cigar and whiskey lounge? Sign me up.

The party itself was lovely with family and friends taking time to share memories and stories with the room. (It was weird introducing myself as the "Right Reverend Mo's" boyfriend.) It spilled over into a smaller bar for a nightcap before heading back to have a good nights sleep.

I think we did well with offering our assistance to the wedding party with any odds and ends that they would like to delegate. Sure enough, our game plan for the game day was going to be as follows- Moda would get dropped off and head to the site with the party early in the a.m. I'd join around noon with the rental car and pick up the pre-ordered lunch for everyone. (Hooray for helping!) I started to fade while Moda checked, re-checked, and wrote down instructions on how to get to the restaurant and then to the site...And that's all I remember...except a little anxiety.

How the f#ck was I supposed to navigate around this baffling a##ed...but pretty...city?


Final thought- Everyone...and I mean everyone- has a tattoo in Portland. And not just something tribal or douche-y like a seahorse on their ankle- I mean unique unique unique. For example, our server at the Tin Shed had a Bettie Page-esque pin-up girl on her arm...except it had three heads. The 40-something bartender at Kennedy's had a starfish- On. His. Elbow.

The ink doth floweth. And it's crazy.

They sell wine at Target?

(Ed. Note- The Christmasbaby Blog is going to be a play by play of our trip to Portland last week. What you'll be reading, matey's, is my observances/experiences of the trip for your amusement. Links to applicable restaurants/sites will be included in case you're planning a trip any time soon. Dates listed are from Saturday, June 12th through Friday the 18th.)


We left at the boot crack of dawn from Mpls after the Bean dropped Moda and I off at MSP Airport. The trip was thusly- D and L's wedding for the first few days with the remainder of the trip on the road with no real destination except some wineries and the beach where they filmed the end of "Goonies". (My contribution to the planning)

We arrived in Seattle where we awaited our connecting flight to Portland, killing time in the airport bar and trying to find something edible...and alcoholic on the menu. (This mistake, a weak bloody Mary and terrible breakfast sandwiches would prove our most costly mistake on the trip, oddly enough.) We hit the tarmac (like a couple of RO-HOCK STARS) for the twin engine to skip us over to OR. What we were treated to on this gorgeous day was a pristine view of Mt.St. Helens (courtesy of our Captain) which took our breath away. I don't know what it is about mountainous vacations, but flying into them gives me chills every time.

We cabbed it over to the rental place (way cheaper via Priceline.com than renting at the airport) and ended up doubling back TO the airport to our hotel. The place was magical for it's unobstructed view of Mt. Hood- And 24 hour fitness/pool areas. Score. We managed some quick lunch over at the Red Robin before heading back.

After a quick power nap, we headed over to Washington park to meet Shade and the Krump for some hiking. (Nestled by the Kids museum, OR Zoo, and Arboretum, it boasts a beautiful rose garden that puts Harriet to shame: http://www.washingtonparkpdx.org/) While catching up with the fellas, we remarked that it was sunny AND beautiful- Two things not often associated w/the Pacific NW. We were informed that this was technically the 1st few days of summer and they endure 7 months of gray misty drizzle prior to that. (As evidenced by the # of people who were fish belly white. I mean, they make albino's look like George Hamilton. Really)

What we encountered on the trail as well as lush green beauty was a fair amount of post-rain mud patches. Some were easier to navigate than others, however the one we happened upon was larger than a king sized mattress and fairly deep. As my buddies delicately traipsed through it, I opted to skip step over to the dryer looking (looking...btw) embankment...only to find out that it was slick. So my leg went underneath me and I landed full out on my side in the middle of the puddle. This jacked my already f#cked up shoulder with white pain up to my ear and covered me from neck to foot in mud. 5 minutes into our walk.

I had to laugh.

We finished the hike easily enough, waiting for the mud to dry and (my) avoiding pictures when I could. I lied when I said I was okay and was anxious to get back for a shower and some ibuprofen. We had a mini-picnic w/some local wine and cheese in the parking lot before (ready BREAK) splitting up to get ready for the night 1 party.

We stopped in a local Target that also sold wine so that we'd have something to bring with (I know, right? Cheez-its, then wine. Go fig) and after being introduced to some more KS residents we headed out to meet the future Hubby and Weef over at Rontoms. (http://www.yelp.com/biz/rontoms-portland-2 FYI, that's right. Their website is a black page. I'm pretty sure there's a reason for that.)

The bar was packed, and I mean packed, and we were famished. The menu had 8 items on it, and it turned out 7 were "out". (Even though we saw burgers etc. passing through the kitchen window) The server was surly, as was pointed out, and we ended up just cock-tailing and commiserating in the corner away from the rabble with the rest of the wedding buddies.

Finally, we were about to eat our own faces off when it was suggested we hit Montage for late night snick snacks. (http://montageportland.com/pageContent.aspx?id=5 ) With the promise of alligator bites and frog legs (?) we trudged off. Trusting out Iphone map apps would get us there. And let me tell you, speakeasies are easier to find. I'd just finished my 14th tirade on the neighborhood (Industrial area? Check. Under an overpass? Check. Dimly lit? Check. I commented that this was like a "Batman" origin story waiting to happen) When we did find it, there were two trannies out front wearing fishnets up to their ears and a woman waiting for her (date?). This dude made his way out the front and slowly but surely as he approached her his torso got lower and lower to the ground until it was parallel and he could grab her for support. Whoops.

Turns out this place is quite the gem. We were seated promptly and the service was fast as can be. We enjoyed (the hell out of) the frog legs...who knew? Before tucking in to their signature make and some crawfish jambalaya while splitting a bottle of wine. So. Effing. Tasty. I was trying to do a mental tally of our bill when it was dropped in front of us and..."This can't be right." The first of many times I'd utter that phrase in Portland. It was sick cheap. And we went back and passed out with the knowledge we had a killer meal for the money.

13.1

We did it. On Sunday, we ran the Minneapolis Half-Marathon/Marathon. We got up at 4:30 munched a bagel (Muscle Milk for me) and biked to the Depot. Team Awesome convened and at 7 a.m. we were off. We stayed tight until around mile 4 when after a water station we were split up. Moda and I stayed close to our pace group (10:53) but closing in on the next mile she put on speed and I gave her the thumbs up and I ate her dust.

Around the 10K mark there was an incline and I started shallow breathing so I slowed down and gave my self some deep yogi breaths. (This also marks the point where the faster half marathoners were already doubling back)

Mile 7/8...I started noticing the pings. After mile 8 I had to start 1 minute walks then 8 minute runs.

Mile 9- The hip. I also learned the hard way that the crappy glucose packs they give you taste like prune favored paste. I was like a dog eating peanut butter.

Mile 11.5 was when my Achilles tendons both started snapping. It was also here that I think I started hallucinating.

Mile 12.5- There's a marching band. I sally forth for a strong finish.

So that's crossed off the list. We're already planning on a pre-July 4th 10K around Lake Harriet (twice) with our PR's (ideally) under 60 minutes.

And now, a timeline:

Mid-February: After hearing stories from her buddy, Moda gets it into her mind to run (at least) a half marathon. I agree to train with her. We begin by increasing our run time on the treadmill from our (normal) 30 minutes to around 45.

March: I'm topping out at 5 miles. Moda is already shooting for PRs and gets up to 6, then 8. Getting off the treadmill is a daunting task. I manage my 1st outdoor run. On a long evening walk, we come up with the moniker of "Pam and Sam". We join "Mapmyrun.com"

April: 1st 6 mile outdoor run for us. (Isles and Calhoun) Our long runs are officially relegated to the weekend followed by a big brunch somewhere where we'll moan getting up and walking again. Another nice weekend brings us to our first long trail run (and last run before the 10K) around Hyland. Moda starts having hip flexor frass, my lower back gets twitchy two days later. We both invest in foam rollers.

4/24 we run our first race. 10K. In the rain. We feel like achey drowned rats afterwards.

May: After a week long break, we start again. All runs, indoor and (mostly) outdoor runs are mapped and never less than 5.75/6 miles. The training culminates in a 10+ mile hike around all 3 of the chain of lakes. We have a CB gathering which involves softball and utilizing a lot of the fast twitch muscle fibers. I mightily manage to pull/strain both hamstrings. I can barely move for 3 days. Mo makes an appointment to see a sports physician for her hip. Our taper week begins Memorial Day weekend, and we're both feeling less pain after long distances.

Which leads us to race day...Pip Pip.

Time to run...

Whew.

Tomorrow is the big day. The Team Ortho Marathon. Typing this stuff out seems, I dunno, kinda silly. I mean, people don't gaze in awe when you tell them I'm not "running a marathon". I'm "Running a HALF marathon".

So to recap.

A little over 3 months ago my S.O. informs me that she wants to train for a half-marathon. I tell her I'd do it with her. We train. We do a 10K as a test. We're here.

I won't lie, I've been a little hesitant. Even going so far as to ponder whether I was gonna race at all. Mostly because while I'm impressed and supportive of my friends who've completed marathons in the past- It's never been something that has interested me. At all. And I was quite content with my 2-3 mile jogs to keep aerobicized. And then I thought "Fuck it. If Moda is gonna do it, I'll show my support". Yeah. Sovereignty.

And after our initial training the 10K ended up being ridiculously harder than expected, effing up my lower back and her hip, and the cause of countless foam roller appearances. And I started thinking...You know? It's all good and well on a runners forum, or in a book, magazine, etc. Everyone has advice. But my stupid anti-establishment nature hate being told what the fuck to do, especially when I don't actively seek the advice. It becomes evident that everyone who has ran a marathon has an opinion (And they're like superstitious pitchers. "I always rub a teaspoon of cayenne pepper on my bellybutton before a run" or "Eat a half a cup of Doritos with a shot of espresso"...UGH! ADVICE) on what's best... and my biggest things are "Okay. I know" and..."This hasn't prevented me from discovering a lot about this kind of training at age 35". For example:

-Fuck all.. I'm fatter and more out of shape than I was hoping to be. I knew 2 years ago when I needed to start investing in husky boy jeans that age was not my friend. When I started training, I vainly hoped that it'd start returning me to a more svelte physique. If anything, it depressed the shit out of me. Carbs are our friend? Yeah. They're sitting like two pretty after burners on my side exhaust ports. That rest uncomfortably over my jeans.

-I fucking hurt. All the time. As soon as the mileage started adding up during training I was discovering new levels of discomfort. I was happy enough that it wasn't the knee's, ankles, or hips but when my back jacked I was pissed. I noticed the pretty fluidity that martial arts training and stretching gave way to a more practical tension, even one you kind of start to enjoy. (Insert goofy "coiled spring" analogy) In fact, I proved my own point when I douche-ily played softball a few weeks back.

We'd just finished our outdoor PR (3 of the Lake Chains) and I was doing a quick survey and thought "no shit. A month ago I wouldn't have been able to walk to the car. Yeah, I'm sore. Yeah, we stopped a few times to stretch. But we made it, and in a pretty GD decent time. Moreover I don't feel like I'm gonna fall over. We win."

Then my stupid ass plays softball/kickball and strains...maybe pulls both of my hamstrings. The next day I could barely stand at work and realized that (A) I'm old and (B) The static to motion running/sprinting was different than the timed pacing I'd adopted. That Monday, I was chagrined at my condition...and as the lowest of lows I was chagrined that I was gonna have to consider not running. After 2 days of rest, I tried for a light lope around the nabe and I didn't get more than two blocks when pain shot so far through my hip I almost had to sit down on someones retaining wall. I made it a mile and a half, took two ibuprofen, and flipped off my body.

And then...I won't lie, after two days of walking around like I had a load in my pants I ended up saying "eff it" (again) and trying to walk normally. During our taper week, I managed to go 6+ miles (after two stretches and a walk up the high hill) on what will be part of our course tomorrow. And felt fine afterwards. And so I've lifted, tapered (ending in a little under 5 miles the other day) and last night met run buddies at Buca to carb up.

Because...well eff it. I will finish the race.

I'm weird. I know. I don't need a memo. But for all my griping, I want to finish. I will finish. Even if it's crawling on my elbows and knees. And for the first time in the last 3 months of training I've had nothing in my brain but "I'm going to do this and I will not stop until I've crossed the finish line". Mind, it's only been within the last 24 hours I've thought this. But I'm lazy. My winning internal montage music doesn't start until the last minute anyway. Conservation of energy and all.

In closing...for those readers still involved in my musings, my last minute strategies:

I've lifted weights super heavy this week. Super heavy. Even for me. Upper body only. (The lower body had some foam rolling and rehab work on my flexors, quads, and hammies...but tapered by Wednesday) Why? Well if my upper body is sore...I won't give a shit about sore legs. Ha HA! (Awaits naysayers complaints)

I trimmed my mane. Nothing makes you more aerodynamic than a new haircut. Grooming is a MUST for any serious runner. And I mean that in all aspects. You know what I'm sayin?

Everything is layed out. Including the epsom salts my mom gave me last week at the cabin for post-run soakings.

Carbed up 2 days in advanced. Ideally, this will make for a proper glucose and a longer lasting "burn".

My magically enhanced bandana is being washed.

I'm running this one for dad again. The way I see it, life is fuck-all short. And this is an experience I want to have. Like trying squid or hang gliding. Never done it/tried it? Well why the hell not?

Lastly..and this is doofy, but at the gym today some kid was wearing a t-shirt that had a mantra I plan on stealing and keeping:

Losers Complain
Winners Train

Well hell's yes.

I'll see you at the finish line, friends. Do me a favor and if you're up (or not puking) at 7am cop a squat on the race route and cheer on the runners. The one thing I'd never thought of in a million years is how awesome (and it is SERIOUSLY AWESOME) it is to have random people screaming "good job". So big brother? Sorry about not attending more cross-country meets.


(Idiot Edit...I post so infrequently that I can't always remember when I sound like a broken record. If anyone wants to catch up on my "April Jittery Run Rant" it's right here. Dumb ass me...http://happychristmasbaby.blogspot.com/2010/04/and-i-was-running.html)

14 lessons to tell your 14 year old self...

This is a fun lil' header I stole from MD, and by proxy MO. (What is up with the transplanted M's, I tellya)

Moda told me a funny story about being 14 and hormonal which I'll refrain from sharing here (It's damn...damn funny), but aren't girls and boys little drama queens? All that frass, and hormones, and anger, and caution, and impressionable mind-age...I admired kids that could stay focused and on-course. Heck, to a much lesser extent I admired parents that not only worked their butts off but also worked to keep their kids focused. (To be fair, during one of my teenage arguments with my parents my mother pointed out the glaring fact that as much pain and suffering I believed I was going through "You got it pretty good, kiddo. Has your father or I ever made you do anything you didn't want to? Made you get a job?"

So with hindsight being what it is, meaning "sight from behind", I thought I'd give 14 year old "me" a few pernters to ease them through the insufferable time known as adolescence.

1) Lose the mullet. I know your big brother had one. I know that it's because you loooove "MacGuyver". And you play hockey. It's just...dumb.

2) Mikey sez chillax. You are so wound up, dude. Tighter than a snare drum. Look at you. I know that you started lifting weights at the Y to help your own weight (more on that in a sec) but do you have to start walking around like you have a stick up yer butt?

Remember last year? When you were thirteen? You were at the acme of your weirdness. You loved horror movies. You wore trenchcoats and fedoras without shame or irony. (Which would probably flag you for a psych screen nowadays) You amassed a pin collection. You stuffed your pockets with crap like switchblade combs and Circus game tokens and silly putty. (Like you were Doctor Who. ) Your walls were littered in comic books. You wore Hawaiian Shirts and hipster cartoon t-shirts... with jams. You weren't embarrassed by mom and dad. Hell, son. You were cool before hipsters were all doing that anyway. And isn't that what it's all about, really? Being cool by being you? What does this mean?

3) You aren't defined by your clothes. By next year, you'll have adopted this revolting habit of owning 4 pairs of Girbaud in different color schemes. (Blue, Dark Blue, Black, and...wait for it- White. Jesus, little me. You owned white jeans.) But if I'm catching you at the right time, you won't have had mom drop you off at the Brookdale Dayton's with your friends as you make your first purchase with your allowance money- An $80 pair of jeans. That are apparently all the rage because they have a little white strip on the dick area that says "Girbaud". At least "Guess" kept their logo on the ass so that people could be subtle when their gaze dropped to the not-so-indiscrete label.

County Seat Outlet in Crystal wasn't so bad, was it? Yeah, all the MG and Plymouth brats were wearing $65 Ralph Lauren polo shirts. $90 Air Jordans. $26 Nike T-shirts. So what. Here's a hint- Levis? Become cool again in like, 15 minutes. And they stay cool. (Granted, some of the cuts kind of suck) And you wind up a Gap/Thrift store whore anyway. Let the rabble worry about fashion. You wanna really freak kids out? Start wearing ties to school, man. Be that kid.

4) Eat better. If I'm not mistaken, the seedlings of dysmorphia started around now. It was doofy at first...you'd hug your 1 week/phone calls 'til 2am girlfriend and she'd tease you about your "love handles". Swim class was a nightmare because it seemed like all the other kids were skinny and you were the only one who looked like a stuffed sausage. So what did you do? You'd have an Carnation instant breakfast in the morning, a single serve carton of 2% milk for lunch, and then you'd wait until after 4pm so you could eat what? A box of pizza rolls? An entire Totino's pizza? It's cool that you stopped with the "3 Cheeseburgers and a Mt. Dew" at (insert fast food restaurant) but for fooks sake. You took home ec. You have been HOME EC'd! No one is asking you to cook dinners, but you need to eat better. Why?

You hit a growth spurt toward the end of 8th grade and shoot up about 3 inches or so. The baby fat goes away, coupled with your newfound liking of the free weight area of the gym.

5) Be nice to girls. Really nice. Like, act opposite of how your natural instinct to act b/c you're proving those nutty shrinks who like to say "when they're being 'mean', they really mean they like you" right. Remember 'Nettie? Probably didn't like being called "Dognette". And Koreney? She really liked you. She was pretty, and tall, and awkward and probably coulda done well with some kind words. And you were just flat-out training-bra snapping mean. Why you waited until you were 16 to start to develop your all-new old cheap moves is beyond me. Everybody appreciates compliments, even if they think they're bullshit.

6) Kiss Angie Weaver. Remember how mad she was when you were hanging out when you were 16 that you didn't do anything? It takes practice to get good, and that way you won't kiss like a guppy when you smooch Tracy next year at the Sadie Hawkins dance.

7) Like math more. I know you had "Schatzy the Nazi" who had the whole schtick when you'd ask if you can go to the bathroom "I don't know, can you?" and you patently hated him, but you can tune him out and check your answers instead of treating each assignment like it was a personal affront to your character. It will help you later. Why?

8) Start paying attention to your $, getting a savings/checking account, and start watching what and where you spend. You were 2 merit badges and a project away from getting your Eagle Scout. And guess what was one of those badges? That's right. "Personal Management." I'm not saying it set the pattern to how you lived your future years, but understanding budgeting/credit/savings at an early age would have probably helped you later in life. Oh. By the way? Not getting your Eagle Scout? Hmmm...

9) Finish what you started. Remember how you got huffy when RSvP was denied his Eagle project so you decided to say "Eff the Scouts" and stop going? What...I mean, what kind of excuse is that? C'mon, man. It'll bleed into later life. By setting the goals and finishing will leave you with a larger sense of accomplishment than false entitlement or indignation.

10) Get a job. Sooner. Like, summer work. F#ck it. Mow lawns. Adopt a work ethic early and increase your disposable income.

11) Quit football. Really, the social standing doesn't get impressive until High School and you have a shitty season your junior and senior year. Get into s#it that you'll enjoy. Karate. You've been pretending you know it anyway. Dancing. You covet the B-boys at school anyway with their sweet moves. Voice lessons...oh, that last one? Yeah, time to quit band as well. The girls are cuter, and you're a much better singer than percussionist anyway.

12) This is gonna be a hard one. Don't believe the hype. Your, uh, "best friend"? Learned to play the games before you did. And subsequently, b/c of his manipulations you got involved in some really stupid shit. You went with your gut on a few but your trusting nature kept you from keeping this guy at arms length. Because really? He was doing it b/c of his own girl issues.

Here's a rule of thumb. You know how mistrustful we can be. And I don't want to jade your optimism or make you think everyone has an angle/is out to dick you over. However in this case? They all are. See, a lot of these kids are learning about human conditioning and aren't going to mellow out on their own until they get to high school. Hell, some of them will probably wait until college. And beyond. And sadder still? The ones that don't leave it at all.

The high road is a good one to take. It gives you a birds eye view of the rabble. So keep smiling and optimistic, but not foolish. B/C some 14 year old dipshit or their toadie is going to try to see if they can "get you" to go to the drug store to buy condoms, then wait by the back of the school with your pants down b/c so and so wants to have the sex. Teens are mean f#ckers.

13) Take Spanish. Much more practical. German is all like "muck-muck-muck-muck".

14) Here's the 2nd toughest lesson and one I'll end on: Life isn't fair. At all. The minute you accept that and assert more control over your life, the better off you'll be. From this point on in your life to when you graduate from High School- from an academic stand point- you'll probably act like the rest of the yahoo's who pretend to hate school and can't wait to get out. Here's a hint- You actually have fun if you want to. The guys who were dicks end up being pretty nice to you because of the other things you're good at. Like making them laugh. And not in a "mean" way that they're used to. You do it with your brain. Have fun because you can. Be nice because you can. Life is short, man. You don't know everything there is to know and that's why you're in school. Shit, you won't know jack until you are farrrrr out of college. So better prepare now.

Oh, and when Brian invites you to that party over the summer. Say "no". Bad, bad, all bad. Let that dude get into trouble on his own.

More merry mom-ment...

Our final story takes place in 2002, when I grew past my childhood embarrassment and had mom accompany me to London. (After embarrassing her on the flight by taking a sleeping aid, having a cocktail, passing out, and being the drooling bane of our flight attendants existince. My finest hour...or 7)

We were pokey on the day we were to head to the bus station for our Stonehenge tour and upon exiting the tube station we made haste. (As much as a woman walking with a cane can make haste. Oh, note to traveler's? You would not beLIEVE the lines we were able to skip due to my travelling with an infirm little old lady w/cane. I should be a frakkin' travel guide. Like, okay...when you get to Disneyworld the FIRST thing you should do is rent a motorized scooter even if you're in the peak of health. Coming up with a backstory will help. And a lightweight blanket to cover your "withered" legs...yeah. Tips. SUCK IT, Rick Steves!)

As we were getting ready to cross the street I managed to look left, then right to check for traffic- a tip I learned from the book "Patriot Games" (Thank you Tom Clancy. Those wacky Brits drive like they're in an MC Escher painting for pities sake! On the WRONG SIDE OF THE ROAD no less. Probably hopped up on tea or something) Unfortunately, mom had not read that particular thriller and looked right first before taking a HUGE step out into the street...and riiiiight in front of the double-decker bus that I had just seen barrelling down on her.

I muttered a quick "ohshit!" before grabbing her collar quick like a bun-bun and yerking her back onto the sidewalk. The following quick exchange took place as I nearly passed out from my heart beating so fast.

Mom- "Whoa...did you see that?"
Me- "I DID! I KNOW! I SAW THAT!" (Shouting is a by-product of a nervous condition in yours truly)
Mom- "I was nearly hit!" (She was pretty excited at this point. Which ticked me off more. Which is why I responded thusly)

Moi- "Do you have any IDEA how MUCH it costs to ship a body BACK to the US?"

We love her.

Thanks, mom. For rides to sporting events, taking me to my first play, and for never calling my GI Joes "Dolls". xo

Returning to yer mom jokes..

Sue me. I've been hyper busy here at work, I had to finish up Improv classes, AND trying to get ready for Summer at home- all while trying to train for that skeery half-marathon in June. Busy Bobby, I am.

I meant to post a Mother's Day blog, and seeing how it's now two weeks late I feel like I finally have time to scribble about it. As I said to my mother at the Bonfire Grill back on the 9th, improv was fun but I'd like to try my hand at sketch comedy writing. Her classic mom-inator response: "Well...it's usually pretty funny and good. When you aren't writing about working out or food."

Bah-dum, ching.

So before I finish my white chicken chili and think about how much time I'll have at the gym before Moda shows up- An ode to my mom. Starring sweet honesty, and a hysterical historical story.

Dear mom-

When I was in the 6th grade learning percussion, we were required to practice our drumming/xylophoning for one hour a night. As there were very important things in the world (namely, cartoons and Voltron) I felt my time may have been better spent focusing on those pursuits rather than training to be the next Tommy Lee. (Good thinking, 12 year old me. According to my best friend the bassist, if you're in a band the only person to get more tail behind the lead singer and lead guitarist is the drummer. Bassists, he said, usually fall behind back-up singers and the tambourine player. And the lead singers girlfriend)

Anyway, I became quite adept at signing "PP" in your distinctive font. And I was still first chair by 9th grade. You're welcome, and I'm sorry. PS- It was around 8th grade when I was grouchy and hormonal when I realized I had made a HUGE error in judgement and should have joined choir, as all the girls I journaled about and had love pangs for were in show choir. I forgive you.

Mom doesn't touch the sauce, and she hasn't for at least my lifetime. That said, it didn't mean we didn't have liquor at our home. See, they were quite the entertainers back in the day. And one of the nifty things in the old BP home was the wet bar in the basement. (Where I'd play "Cocktail" using empty 2 liters of Mello Yello. I wouldn't play Tom Cruise, but Bryan Brown's self-destructive friend "Doug". A much deeper character IMHO) Anyway, the dusty and dehydrated bottles of gin weren't much interest to me when I was growing up...but when I turned 16 they were of GREAT interest to my friends.

After some hard peer pressure (read: Probably calling me "gay" or some such affrontery) I relented and let them root around behind the bar. They bitched about how all of the bottles were empty or "gross", but got all a flutter when they found a full one...wait for it- Creme de Menth. Unable to remove a cap that had long since fused with the bottle, they gave it to me to open, ripping open my callouses in the process. Cleverly adding this awful green liquer to their Sprite they tittered at their ingeniousness before they headed to First Ave to see Trip Shakespeare perform. (We were always finding clever ways to mask our adolescent tomfoolery. Hiding beer in the "Ale" jug from "Brigadoon" when we were at Ren Fest. In empty weed N feed spray bottles. Sometimes an old shoe. It varied)

Anyway, the next day they looked miserable. When I asked what was wrong with it, apparently they were unaware that it would turn their stool bright green and sort of freaked out about their radioactive poop. So...I'm sorry for contributing, but it made for hilarious 16 year old comedy.


There. I feel much better. And now, two stories to cleanse the palate and help you understand the depths of parental embarrassment/frustration. And it can run pretty deep. (Sorry mom. These are too good to pass up)

When I was in 11th grade, Mom helped out a lot backstage during shows. So much so, that everyone started calling her "mom". One day as she was pulling up after rehearsal one afternoon, my three closest friends and I were heading home and as I hopped in the Voyager they started chatting her up. It was at this point, and please don't ask me why, that she (ahem) decided to give them an impromptu speech on the birds and the bee's in addition to the importance of contraception, dovetailing nicely in to her opinion on male performance...all while I sat trying to simultaneously cover my eyes and plug my ears. (To be fair, I had already had "the talk" and been getting condoms for Christmas since I was 15. So for that, I'm grateful since it helped me avoid any early embarrassing trips to Walgreens where I was on a first name basis with the cashiers)

Anyway, my friends just looooved saying "So that's all sex is, huh? 'Poke Poke Poke' and then you're done, huh? She's right, man. There's absolutely no pleasure for a woman when that's all sex is..." Actually one of them still does. (Grumps silently at aforementioned bassist)

Part two to come later or tomorrow...

Lazy Monday

Nothing new here, kids. Carry on. I worked. Came home to hit the gym and do PWYC night but failed. They run two more weekends so I'll pay full price. I love them. I'll miss them (even though I never had the chance to work for them except one missed opportunity in 2003) and that is that.

Subway breakfast sammy review is on the Hippo site (http://hungryhippopotami.wordpress.com/2010/05/03/enter-the-subway-breakfast/) Check it out.

Back hurts. "House Bunny" must be finished. More laundry is to be folded. And another week of OT must be prepared for. Bills need paid. And my last class tomorrow. Huzzah.

05/03/2010 Bachelor Meals

Breakfast- Bacon/Egg/Cheese English muffin from the cafe. Shut up. I wanted comfort food and had originally anticipate running it off. Who could have told me the day would have kicked my ass and my body was sore. Odin, that's who.

2nd breakfast- Banana and fat free cherry Yoplait.

Lunch- Chicken/Spinach/Artichoke calzone. Again, it could have been soup or a spinach salad but they rolled out the special today and it would not be denied. Diet starts tomorrow, right? And it was better than the first attempt I had a few months ago that tasted of calzone death. At least they stopped calling it a "pizzarito".

Dinner- Grilled turkey burger. The spares go in lunch for tomorrow. I had these in the deep freeze and knew Moda would never want them so I thawed them overnight, seasoned them, and cooked the four patties on the grill. My most ambitious bachelor dinner to date. I may even try the sun-dried tomato risotto one of these nights.

<---Mildly healthy Henrietta.

Waste of Sabbath Space

I made good on my promise to myself that I'd get up and start today with (kind of) a bang. I managed to get to Subway (first and foremost) for one of their breakfast sammies. (Review on the hippo site forthcoming.) Sufficed to say, I was a little under the whelmed. For future reference I'll be putting together my own, thanks.

Okay, so I did make it to BP for part of my list. I cruised up to Hwy 81 and traveled North to Brooklyn Blvd before heading back East. Lots, and I mean lots have changed. Village North is now becoming apartments and it looks like a new development is being created on the corner of Zane and BB. White Castle, Walgreens, and the DQ are still there. Most of the churches. And the Hardee's come Italian fast food in the mall-ish area by Rainbow is now an Arbys, go fig.

Godfathers, Rocky Rococco, and Blondies? All alive. Blondies patio was hoppin. Even at 10:30am. (How Godfathers has made it is beyond me. Really. Most metro stores have gone belly up by now) I popped in to Mound Cemetery to pay some respects. Lamby is still there, albeit it looks more like a gray Twinkie as opposed to the lamb I remembered as a kid. Funny. I never knew the name of the kid...funnier still, I can't find that random tombstone I ran into that was a 7th grade classmate of mine. I swear I've looked every time I've been there for the last 15 years since I've seen it. And it's not there. I'm beginning to think I imagined it.

Anyway, I took pics of my schools...the old home. I drove past the old...old home, but there were a few people in the driveway and it'd have felt creepy. As it was they were checking me out as I circled past.


All told, my trip took around 90 minutes plus a gas up at the Holiday. I was mildly insomniatic the night before so I plunked down for some nappage after getting home and investing in lunch. (A fat-free bean burrito. Shup) I woke up with every intention of grilling and hitting the gym, but the Bean was outside using my new toy (the Weed Hound. No more popping up dandelions on our hands and knees!) So I decided to do some manual labor in the form of fixing the outdoor brick work and laying some more weed barrier. I engaged in some weed whacking until a piece flung off and hit my eyeball. Fun. I'll let you know if I can open it tomorrow. Go-Go Gadget No-Insurance!

My spirit failed and dinner ended up being Chinese. I couldn't muster the strength for much else. Theatre night #2 fail. Hey...at least I made it to TRP last night.

Not too much exciting, pampers. Laundry is in. My bed is made, the mattress flipped and rotated, and the bolts tightened so hopefully there will be less squeaking. (Shut it)

(Sighs)...let's see what the regimented week brings...

Bacherlordom, Day 1. Here's the plan.

Okay so I'm left to my own devices. Yeah. What? Moda is on her big annual road trip w/DBs and they're heading out to the Maine-vein! (Staying w/CRT at the summer camp that they run. Climbing towers. Mountain Bikes. Hiking trails. I'm hoping this isn't like the summer camp memories I have from movies like "Meatballs" or "Wet Hot American Summer" but since it's way into pre-season I'm more worried about frostbite or rain-soaked campfires as opposed to the rival campers from across the lake vying for their affections)

That being said...wow. I finally get her back for a protracted period of time after her theatre marathon and I'm here at home. Soooo I figured I'd regale you with tales on how a monoganimal boy takes care of himself. (Sorry that I can regale you with Don Draper-ian exploits for those who like living vicariously. I just don't/can't play that game. What I do promise is that-hopefully- it won't be lame posts like..."Stayed in and watched 'Rapid Fire' again. It was okay. Tomorrow I'll be making gin and tonics...with ORANGE JUICE and watching 'Strange Brew'. I mean...I don't get the traffic on this site I used to so I hope I don't scare any more faithful readers off. Apparently all 3 of you.)

So I'll give you all the heads up and try to keep these short-ish. You've been warned. I don't eat well when another person doesn't cook for me.


We had our low-key send off last night with Moda making some delicious pad-Thai and then watched "Mad Men" (yay) and "Time Traveler's Weef" (Skip. Or apparently I have no soul) and I slept my first bachelor night in a year.

I'm doing OT at the office, and after we had a delicious catered "employee appreciation" from Holy Land Deli (I ended up explaining to people who were concerned about the falafel balls that it was really kind of like "Middle Eastern Hush Puppies") I was excited at the prospect of the amount of leftovers we had. To the tune of 8-9 pans of spiced grilled chicken, lamb, rice, and hummus. (Did I bring tupperware to work today? You know damn right I did.)

Anticipating a Middle-Eastern breakfast, I came in early armed with the knowledge that at least my gastro-intestinal needs would be met. Not so much. Housecleaning emptied the employee fridge. 8-10 pans of perfectly good food? Tossed. Baby P? Heartbrok...Pissed the righteous f#ck off.

So I worked and hit the 'Bow for some goodies. Breakfast ended up being-

1) A Clif Peanut Butter Chocolate Bar and
2) An on-sale bag of fake Lobster Meat

Clearly, bachelordom spreads fast than Ebola.

I hit the gym for some rehab (Finally. A proper leg/shoulder/arm and back rehab workout on the extension machine and foam roller. After a lengthy sauna and a hot hot hot shower I could touch my toes! I felt like an ambulatory human again, even for a little while.)

I managed a HD trip for some more cedar mulch (HEY! 5 bags for $10!!! Only until tomorrow!) and some potting soil and managed to get home to plant my potted pansies. (And why with the "Pansy"? They're hearty. Thrive in sun and shade. Why not "Kick-Ass McGoo's!"?) Well. My deck looks a little nicer.

Dinner is an egg white omelet with asparagus, soy cheese, marinated tofu, and spinach*. Basically what I have in the fridge with the hope that I can get through my Egg Beaters before they expire. I'd do it for breakfast tomorrow, but that defeats my weekly bachelor goals. WHICH ARE!

1- See some theatre. Moda and I were frassin' that there were a bunch of shows we wanted to see so I figured I'd try to make sure my actor-card was punched and do my part to support local theatre. I know tonight I'm gonna try and see "Relatively Speaking" at TRP. My buddies A and D are in it and Moda already caught a preview so I hope that I can make it. Otherwise I know I'm gonna see "Our Country's...okay" (Starting Gate's last show. Sniff) on Monday for PWYC and tomorrow? Well, we'll see. It'll be either "Queens of Burley-Q" at the History or I wait for the evening to see if the BNI has any shows a-playin. The rest of the week? Who knows.

2-I'm going to get a breakfast sandwich tomorrow morning at Subway if it kills me. I have no time or patience to try and do it during the week (I make my own work breakfast, folks) and even though I could cobble the accotrements together to make the same thing at home, I'd like to see what the fuss is over their "egg-white on an english muffin prepared by a sandwich artist" Breakfast sammy is like. Don't judge me, monkeys.

3- I've taken the week off post-race and I'm going to start race training again tomorrow. maybe 4.5 or 5 miles. Who knows. I may try and actively scamper out to BC to hit USA for some karate style action. I'm rusty. My back has been so f#cked up that even trying a front kick makes my knee buckle. Who knows. Could be fun. Could be damaging.

4-Drive out to BP. Dad was apprehensive when I mentioned my desire to flit through my hometown, but the closing of Brookdale has got me kind of nostaligic. Not a very progressive feeling, sure, but that's part of my make-up. Drop a carnation off at Eric's grave and say "hi" to the lamb. Traipse up Brooklyn Blvd. Stop at "Rocky's" or "Blondie's" for a slice or a salad. I dunno. Maybe I'll call the Gay Burrito and see if he's game. Leave an old man to his memories, for pities sake.

5- Finish class. My BNI classes (officially) end on Tuesday with our "performance" slated for Saturday. Anyone want to watch free student Improv, traipse down to the BNW. I won't give out the time unless you're serious. One of my classmates is s#itting kittens. Be nice.

6- See a flick on my own. "Nightmare" just opened and I have a jones to see either "Kick-Ass" or "The Losers". Which will I pick? I don't know.

There it is. Sorry I won't have exciting stories to post regaling you about my afternoon at BJ's for "Nickel Lap Dances from 3-6pm but I hope that my telling you what I eat/imbibe (Ooo...does this Chianti pair nicely with my microwaved Boca Burger? Should I do the fat-free Bean Burrito with Guiness or an ale?) will bring you amusement while I'm imposing a sort of house arrest.

For your amusement.



*Feel free to add sliced garlic and diced green onion/tomato if you're ambitious.

Heat small skillet to medium and spray with Pam. Add tofu, then cut up asparagus...wait a minute...garlic (DON'T LET IT BURN!) then spinach (and tomato) last. Simultaneously, spray a larger pan and let it heat up while this nonsense is happening. Once you've gotten around to seeing if the spinach is wilting a little, the large pan (on medium-medium high) should be hot enough. Add the egg-white Egg Beater (Or regular) to the pan until it starts to set. (Move the pan around the burner if it doesn't heat evenly) Once set, add the cheese, then add the veggie mix to one end of the omelet. Check the corners with your turner then flip and press the top. Turn the entire thing (try not to brown it) and transfer to plate. Add pepper, salt, or hot sauce to taste.

Just do it

We made it, folks! Our first 10K done together. We both managed to come in around 1:03 which put us at approximately 10:10 minute mile! (The GetInGear10K.com website is cool about giving you an exact read from when you first cross the starting line to when you finish, thanks to this handle little electronic device placed behind your run number) I'll do my best to spare you the minutiae ("Went to be early, got up, drank 1 liter of water and a glass of Muscle Milk. Breakfast was 1/2 banana and a slice of wheat toast...") Blah and nope. Instead, we had some observations which we found interesting, weird, perplexing, and gross. I'll save the most gruesome one for last...

1- Holy crap it was crowded. It was a cold and drizzle McTizzly morning when we arrived at the VA med center parking lot. They had buses shuttling people to the starting gate but the line was prohibitive to say the least. (Per Moda: "If there is one thing I hate, it's waiting") Since it was only a mile to the pavillion we opted to hoof it. This was a good call. It got us warmed up, and our legs nice and springy . And it made for better people watching. (Maniacs. Seriously there were people sprinting past us. Hard. F. Core.)

2-Once again, I find myself feeling like the "Bad News Bear" of the particular sport I'm involved in. With karate, it was usually just a simple case of having mismatched gi's or hand-me-down bo's. No biggie. Here, I'm running in a t-shirt and swimtrunks (which, to be fair, were totally appropriate due to the biblical level of rain) when everyone else is wearing Under Armour or rain resistant mesh by-weave and special running gloves. (What? You need gloves to run? Why is this blowing my mind?)

3- I did pass a dude who was running in jean shorts. Jean. Shorts. So, you know, at least I wasn't that dude. Epic fail for him, and the dude hiking through Moab in penny loafers.

4- There was a distinct lack of Kenyans. IJS.

5-Never discount the power of a cheerleader. I won't lie. 6.2 miles might not seem like much to some folks but there comes/came a point, ohhhhh, around mile 4.5 or so when I was feeling it. Not that euphoria hooey either. My breathing became labored and I think I got first hand what an asthma attack feels like. .2 miles left and my vision got fuzzy. And past mile 5, my quads were singing a horribly off-tune song.

But the folks who'd yell "Great job, runners!" and "Almost there!"...heck, there was that weird girl who kept materializing every other check point (who, unless she was triplets, had to be driving from check point to check point) were really helpful in pushing through to the end. Thanks, nameless masses with the cowbells who laughed when I yelled back "MORE COW-BELL!!!"

6-A lot of runners have nice asses.

7-There are still quite a few that don't.

8-Moda was chagrined at the noticeable lack of Vibrum runners (for the record, due to the rain she refrained from wearing them. This time) but you should have seen her head dart around after hearing that distinctive clip-clop noise on the pavement.

9-We've been training for around 2 months now and our long runs have been 8-9 miles so far. But in spite of a fairly flat (and scenic) course, 6.2 miles kicked our asses two ways from Sunday. When we were done, Moda's already frassy hip and my frassy lower back were screaming. We swung into Pizza Luce' afterwards to reward ourselves and to watch her cross the street was like watching a senior citizen who forgot their walker. Seriously.

10- Female marathonists are also hard core. While we were waiting in line for our shuttle they were announcing the female half-marathonists coming around the bend...an hour and a half after the race had started. 13 miles in 90 minutes. Whoa.

11- Thankfully, there were no sightings of anyone making a mess in their pants. (Which Mo gah-RACIOUSly was able to direct me toward on the interwebs. Note to self- There are entirely too many YouTube videos of people s#itting themselves. PS- Martial Arts peeps can check out the BJJ match where this happens. Dude picked the wrong day to wear the white gi.)

12- UNfortunately...there was a bleeding nipple sighting. Gah. I can't believe I typed that. We were waiting in the long queue to exit the parking lot which was next to the shuttle drop off point. We'd periodically comment on the folks we'd see. (To the people who were still running? Quit showin' off. Martyrs) Mo was futzing with her Ipod when I saw the dude just...walking across the parking lot. In a white t-shirt. With bright red bloodstains running from his cannons...And you know, why white? Really? You need to advertise? Sheesh. Any way I pointed this out to Moda who took a second for it to register but her reaction was pretty damn stellar if I may say so. ("Hey look at that. Bloody nipples."/Beat...beat..."oh my God....OH MY GOD!") I mean, I guess I lucked out with only a little chafing around my belt line and a dime sized blister on my arch.

Hell of a thing to see in real life. I mean why white, dude. Gah.

Anyway, we hobbled home and later that night treated ourselves to pizza and Thai food for a job well done. Next up? Over twice that distance. While I'm certainly starting to understand the run-culture which has Moda in it's thrall, I'm not too sure I'm meshed in with it. One thing is for certain, and that's realizing that training is only about 60% of it. The rest? Mental. And here's me, who can't keep focused on one topic for more than 20 seconds.

Eep. D-Day indeed.

And I was running...

Hey, yeah, what? That's right. Tomorrow is the big day! 1st race of the...wait. I actually don't think I've participated in a Something-K since, oh, 1992? Since starting to run/jog outdoors in 1994? Huh. And it's all because Moda got a bug up her butt to start training a few months ago and now she's all wearing Vibrums and can peel bananas with her feet while wearing shoes and s#it. (I kid, I kid. Why? Because I love)

I honestly can say I'm feel a little trepidation even though we've been running over 6 miles fairly smoothly for the last month or so. (Ask me about our 8.5 mile behemoth we ran out of doors on Sunday at Hyland Park. 90. Degree. Hill/trail.) Not that I won't finish, or will be the slowest (I guarantee there'll probably be at least 100-200 Kenyans there). No, we've both remarked that our legs are pretty strong and the soreness I feel isn't isolated to the joints. (My calves and quads being sore where they should be for this much training) Nope, it's work.

The last 2-3 weeks or so, mandatory overtime has been in place. So I've been sequestered to a desk for anywhere from 48-50 hours a week, 6 days a week. Now, in spite of what you read in magazines about "stretching at your desk" or "taking frequent walks" (which, um, they kinda frown at being that there's this, I don't know, weird expectation that you work...) It's just the sitting and working has made my lower back frassy. Now, to be fair, when I'm training it actually feels fine. Doesn't make me bat an eye. But end of day? Taking off my shoes? That becomes a bit more of a struggle.

So on our nights off, we sit on the couch with either a bag of frozen peas or an ice pack and watch "Mad Men" (Moda has a frassy hip flexor) and will take turns rolling on the foam roller (yeah. I never thought I'd get one either. Shup. The dumb thing works) and popping 800 mgs of Ibuprofen which don't usually help too much. It's great fun.

So tomorrow around this time we'll be home probably icing our respective bits. High-fiving on our first run-like accomplishment. For my part, I hope to finish under 75-80 minutes which should be accomplishable. If you're in the area, I'll be the pale whale under a blue poncho. (Yeah, it's supposed to rain too. Natch) Until then, tonight is our complimentary carb load up at the site. Wahoo.

Duplicity...or WTF

This is topical, but it's been stewing in my mind since last night-

So I get Moda back for around 4 months while she takes a theatrical summer vacation and last night was technically our first real "night" in on a school night. It was a breezy evening w/Chinese Food, "Mad Men", and the newest on her NF queue- "Duplicity". Now, I knew going in that it hadn't the greatest of reviews but I was willing to give this more of a chance than other craptastic filler films that've been released in the last 5-10 years or so.

That being said, I've watched mini-series that have sped by faster than the first 40 minutes of this movie. It was so head scratchingly awful, that the only 2 things I could think of was that (1) Julia and Clive wanted to do a movie together where they could get paid an a$$ load of money and spend their time travelling the world during the shoot. (Locations included NYC, Rome, Bahamas, Miami, and Zurich. And Ohio, natch. This is also called "Ocean's 12 Syndrome")

The 2nd reason was so they could put there own little "6 degrees" game together for film dorks (like moi) to get antsy in the pantsy and at least try and figure out why they put together this addled confusing mess of a film. Let me show you starting with the big guns-

Julia and Clive were in "Closer" together and must have had a good time and wanted to snog on camera together.

Way further back, Julia was in a movie called "My Best Friends Wedding" with Paul Giamatti playing the role of a sympathetic bell hop.

Denis O'Hare ("Duke") was in "Michael Clayton" which also starred Tom Wilkinson.

Anyway, these aren't all loose. The dude who played "Homer Stokes" in "O Brother" was also in the flick, which starred George Clooney who does crap with Julia and was also in "Michael Clayton" which was another hoy palloy flick (albeit intensely and insanely better) than this tripe.

My theories may be crazy, but there seems to be a hint of truth. I found it funny (in a movie that wasn't very) the lineage between Chive and Julio regarding how much $ they could get ("$20million?"/"I was thinking 40Million") could easily be analagous to how much $ they're getting.

Ridiculous.

For chuckles

Nothing great. I just found a trailer that made me laugh a bit.

http://movies.yahoo.com/movie/1810116447/video/19060028

Wooden gun, btw.