Thursday, June 30, 2011

Crabbies

Today, I had planned to provide ya'll with a report of the AF Canyon Half Marathon (and 5k), which was described before-hand here.  I'm in a bad mood, however, and it ain't gonna happen.  Or if it did happen, it wouldn't happen in a nice way.  Like, I might swear, or call some people bad names, or say "like" too much, or reveal some embarrassing stuff about myself (as if that doesn't already happen a bunch around here.)  Holy smokes I'm crabby!

The AF Canyon Half Marathon (and 5k) was a terrific race.  It truly was.  Right now everything is coming through all scratchy 'n such because I'm wearing my overly, cynical-tinted glasses.

To fix my overly cynical view (I say overly because some cynicism can be fun), I'm going to have some food, watch some 30 Rock, and read the following, over and over:

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What do you when you've lost all hope for getting over the crabbies?  (And don't say "There's a salve for that!"  I ain't talk about those kinds of crabbies.)


Tuesday, June 28, 2011

Tuesday Tune, vol 83 – Half Way!

Hey, 'member my friend Camie?  Camie's doing some of that dreadful chemo.  That's the bad news.  The good news, however, is Camie is officially half way done with that dreadful chemo!  Half way!  That's a serious landmark.

In honor of Camie being half way over with the chemo, today's Tuesday Tunes are all about being half way.  Hang in there Camie!  That glass is officially half full!

The Middle – Jimmy Eat World
In the MiddleJoshua James
Halfway ThereBig Time Rush
Stuck In The MiddleStealers Wheel
Don't Say It's OverWhite Lion
Almost OverElliott Smith
CloserJoshua Radin
Middle GroundMary Chapin Carpenter
Middle Of The RoadThe Pretenders
Centerfold J. Geils Band
Half of My HeartJohn Mayer
Halfway to ParadiseBobby Vinton
Dog Days Are OverFlorence + The Machine
It Ain't Over 'Til It's OverLenny Kravitz
Hey Man (Now You're Really Living)Eels
Miss HalfwayAnya Marina
CloserJars Of Clay
One Step CloserU2
Meet Me HalfwayThe Black Eyed Peas


Sunday, June 26, 2011

Bossypants

I've decided that me 'n Tina Fey have so much in common that we should be friends.  Actually, scratch that.  Me 'n Tina should be sisters.  Actually, scratch that.  Me 'n Tina are the same freaking person.  (Only in different bodies and with different husbands and totally different careers and religions, etc.)

Care for some proof?

Yes?  I knew you'd say yes!  You always say yes.  That's what I like about you.


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Well, folks, the proof is in a Tina Fey chapter book called Bossypants.  Let me show you some proof, but I'm going to provide this proof in the form of a letter to Tina.  Because, somewhere along the lines of my existence, I'm going to send Tina this crazed proof that we're the same person.  She's going to be totally flattered or totally scared.  Prolly both.  Either way, she'll invite me over to 30 Rock to see her magic.



Dear Tina,

You and me?  We're the same.  I read your Bossypants chapter book, which, incidentally, was so damned good that I had to read it twice.  Twice, I tell ya.  Back-to-back.  I side-swiped all of my responsibilities (which, like you, included kids, writing jokes, and a job) so that I could read your fine 'n funny foray of memoirs.  I realize that I sound like another one of your psycho fans, but I'm here to say that although I am a true psycho, I'm not another one of your run-of-the-mill psycho fans.

As stated earlier, I read your book twice.  And it was during this second monumental reading, that I became blindsided by our similarities.  Tina, I cannot be silent about our serendipitous sameness.

For example, on page 31, you talked about homemade nachos being a "cultural phenomenon" – NO WAY!  I, too, believe homemade nachos to be a cultural phenomenon.  You say your best friend's name is Maureen – GET OUT!  MY best friend's name is also Maureen! (And Winder, and Vera, and Megan, and Jessica, and Hillene – I guess my best friend has many names.)  You also have some trouble with anxiety (all the pages in the book) – YOU. HAVE. GOT. TO. BE. KIDDING!  ME TO!!!!!  I'M SO ANXIOUS I TYPE IN ALL CAPS AND INCLUDE AN OBNOXIOUS AMOUNT OF EXCLAMATION POINTS!!!!!

Aren't those the strangest of coincidences?!  Oh, you just wait!  I'm just getting started!  You mentioned that you get wound up about being on time (page 32), and you hate it when you're ready to go and no one has their shoes on (page 38).  BE STILL MY FREAKING HEART!  I've already said this!  It's part of my personality!

You believe that the absolute worst forms of female behavior are 1) saying "like" all the time, 2) leaving your baby in a dumpster, and 3) girl-on-girl sabotage ( page 39).  SHUT UP!  I too believe 1) saying "like" all the time, 2) leaving your baby in a dumpster, and 3) girl-on-girl sabotage are the worst forms of female behavior!  In that order!

You also believe that there are no mistakes only opportunities, (SAME! 85) that the most important role of beauty is saying "who cares," (SAME! 114) that photoshop is better than having implants, (SAME! 158) that "all parents should make their daughters pursue team sports instead of pageants," (SAME! 176) that Grizz and Dotcom were born adorably and fully clothed, just like cabbage patch kids, (SAME! 195)  that all women can benefit from a good, tri-anual sob, (SAME! 258) that babies are more than "adorable little creatures," (SAME! 237) and that the "topic of working moms is a tap dance recital in a minefield."  (SAME!  SAME!  SAME! 255)

Tina, are you seeing it?  I think we were twins separated at birth.  Perhaps you should speak with your dad Don Fey about this.  I'll speak to my dad Mikey about this.  Speaking of Don Fey, that chapter you wrote about your dad Don Fey is one of the most beautiful of tributary passages ever written.  You have inspired me to write my own tributary passage about my dad.  Watch for it soon.  I'll make sure to send you the link.

And while we're on the subject of me writing stuff that's just like the stuff you wrote, let's talk about that chapter called, "A Prayer for its Daughter," where you wrote wishes and whatnot for your lovely little girl.  Stuff like, "May she play the Drums to the fiery rhythm of her Own Heart with the sinewy strength of her Own Arms, so she need Not Lie With Drummers," and "Lead her away from Acting but not all the way to Finance.  Something where she can make her own hours but still feel intellectually fulfilled and get outside sometimes and not have to wear high heels." (Page 262) I'm going to write a prayer too.  Only I'm going to call it "A Prayer for Rabid's Yahoos." Watch for that one as well.  I'll make sure to send you the link.

Tina, you and me share some beliefs.  But that's not all.  We share some limitations and quirky nuances.  Like you, I refuse to go on a cruise even if they provide all-you-can-eat shrimp, (page 100) and I also have a "uniquely German capacity to vacillate between sentimentality and coldness," (page 131.)  Here, Tina, is where we might be a little bit different.  While I do have that same sentimentality-coldness vacillation trait, I'm not German.  I'm mostly a Welchkin.  But, if my theory is true, and we were twins separated at birth, then my parents might have been filling me full of bullshit all these years, and that means that my dad really is Don Fey too.  If so, then I really am German! Just like you!  That would be great.  But I want Mikey for my dad, not Don Fey, even if Don Fey is as badass as you say.  My dad Mikey is just as badass as Don Fey. Oh and speaking of dads and bullshit, I think it's super funny that your dad Don Fey has a rubber stamp that says "bullshit," (page 51.)  Perhaps my dad Mikey should have his own rubber stamp that says "bullshit."  He'd like that.

As you can see, Tina, we are the same person.   We are identical.  You are funny just like I am funny.  You have hairy arms just like I have hairy arms.  You have droopy, poopy, brown eyes just like I have droopy, poopy, brown eyes.  Soon you will see.  And then you're going to invite me on over to 30 Rock so that I can see your magic.

In closing, I'd like to list one last element of Kapow! We are the Same!  It's on page 242 and it says, "When people say, 'You really, really must' do something, it means you don't really have to.  No one ever says, 'You really, really must deliver the baby during labor.'  When it's true, it doesn't need to be said."

Gospel, Tina.  Gospel.

Yours Eternally,
Rabid


Thursday, June 23, 2011

Wasatch Crack 2011


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Crack the COD, just before starting the 2011 Wasatch Back Relay.
Get a load of the Ute fan and the BYU fan standing side-by-side.  
There were some conversations about that.

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Crack the COD get-away car/fast-track friendship maker.

I always say that the best way to test a friendship is to spend 30 hours in a car together.  I also say that it's time to adopt speed-frienshiping.  Forget all that fine wine and dining, chats and movie-going.  Just grab yourself a friend-canditate, launch yourselves into a long-ass road trip and see what happens.  Still friends?  Bonus!  Can't stand each other?  Bonus again!  You can go your separate ways without wasted cash and compliments.

That's what we did this last Wasatch Crack Relay (also called Wasatch Back Relay.) We took the fast-track friendship approach to a guy that we'll call... uh... Greg.  Yeah, that's it.  Greg.  None of us knew Greg.  Greg is the brother of a good friend of mine, a friend who I'll call... uh... Becca.  Yeah, that's it.  Becca.  Thanks to Becca, Greg learned that we were looking for a human of the male gender to assist us on our relay team.  He was intrigued.  And after careful thought (and I must confess, lots of praying from me) Greg said, "Why sure."  

Like I said earlier, none of us knew this Greg.  For all we knew he was an obsessed serial killer.  Or even worse... boring!  The race was only days away, however, and we had no other prospects. We needed Greg.  We got on our knees and begged Greg to join us.  We were willing to take the risk that he might be a serial killer, or worse, boring.

Greg took some risks himself.  He jumped in a van full of obsessed runners, who may or may not be serial killers, or worse, boring.  We knew that we weren't boring, but Greg didn't know that.

Long story short, after 30 hours in the car with Greg, we can all call him friend.  His dry, smart sense of humor and strength as a runner, made a fine addition to our team.  As I was walking him off to start his first leg, he kind of looked at me and said, "We've been in the car for ten hours."  I laughed and said something along the lines of it feeling like a decade.  Snide remark aside, I think he might have been enjoying himself.

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Our team worked out nicely.  We laughed, we cried, we farted, and some of us even barfed.  It was a spectacular party, and it's just too bad that we aren't doing it again next year.  It would be yet another spectacular party.

The road-trip approach to fast-track friendshiping is not the only valuable way to make friends.  I discovered rather quickly that the post-run-buzz is a fabulous tool for making friends.  Nothing... I mean absolutely nothing... beats the post-run buzz.  Trust me on this for I have experienced more than my share of bewitching buzzes.  Of all the buzzes, the post-run buzz reigns supreme.

If you don't believe me, try it sometime.  Get yourself and some friends – friends that you like, but don't necessarily love* – and do some running together on a relay.  After you have run your metaphorical guts right into the ground, jump in the car and watch what happens.  Before you know it, you'll be carrying on like a drunk.  "I love you man!  You have always been the best!  You have always been there for me!  What with the honey stingers and the cold water... and even the ice!  Oh the ice!  You're the best! I love you man."  Careful that you don't cry.  Serious.  Careful.  It's that good.

*I'm talking friend love here, not romantic love.  For we all know that I have romantic love only for Spouse.  It's true!  Quiz me on it sometime.

Take The Runner, for example.  The Runner, as many of you know, is the wife of Mr. Fat Cyclist.  He's calling her The Hammer lately, so maybe we should call her the Hammer too.  This Hammer Runner is also Hillene's childhood buddy; they've known each other for, like, ever.  Before the race, I knew The Hammer Runner only casually.  Now?  I'm totally in love with the girl.  She's fabulously fit 'n fly.  Plus... she runs all smiley and stuff... just like I do!  Even up hill!  On the Hammer Runner's last leg, she jumped out of the car and hollered, "Finally!  I get my hill run!"  Then she ran off to climb some hills.  All smiley and stuff.

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The Hammer Runner finishing her first leg.  
Our bright outfits could be seen at least two miles away.

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Same Hammer Runner waiting patiently for her last leg.  With hills!

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Hillene and The Hammer Runner, all bedeckled in their matching Leadville 100 sweatshirts.
Can I tell you how intimidating it is to share the chick-van with these two?

While The Hammer Runner is the fittest of the bunch, it goes without saying that Hillene ran the hardest.  Our team started at the same time as some friends.  Their first runner was a quick one, so Hillene made sure that she was ahead of him, if only for a stretch.  Then she proceeded to run her first 13 miles during the hottest part of that day.  This left her stomach in a whirl and she tossed her cookies multiple times.  Tossing the cookies left her in a severely depleted state.  But did she let that slow her down?  No-sir-ee.  She ran strong and fast, 'til she finished her legs.  And after she finished her last leg, she collapsed.

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Look!  She's ahead of him, if for only a stretch!

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Here she is... had to get help from Himene (her Spouse) 
and our Mountain Goat team member.

We force-fed Hillene some pickles, which coincidentally brought her back, and she was back to her larger-than-eight-lives self.  Giggling, pulling faces, and running around in flip-flops.

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The last two members on the team are Vinnie Vendrome and the Mountain Goat.  Vinnie is our resident Frenchman who's convinced me that everyone needs a resident Frenchman.  Do you have a resident Frenchman?  Better find yourself one.  Just don't let 'em drive.  Kidding.  Not really.  Vinnie's a French Mario Andretti who scared me nearly to death.  Obviously it wasn't that scary because this is the second time he's driven a car on a relay team.

Vinnie is an excellent addition to our team, for he provides heaps of adventure and scads of comedy.  And if that isn't enough, he can run quick (quickly?) too.


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Mountain Goat, Vinnie Vendrome, Hillene, The Hammer Runner, Rabid
Photo taken while Greg was finishing the race.

Last, but certainly not least, we have our beloved Mountain Goat.  I'm going to call him the Mountain Goat because he was issued the hardest legs of the race.  He was given a 7-mile run, then an 18-mile run, and finally, an 8-mile run that climbs over 3000 feet.  Why did this Mountain Goat get the hardest of the bunch?  Is it because he is strong?  Well, kind of.  But mostly it's because he didn't make it to the team meeting.  Let that be a lesson to you all... if you don't make it to the meeting, we might dump the hard stuff on you.

The Mountain Goat was the perfect fit for what was handed to him.  He conquered the terrain with a smile on his face.  And when I say "conquered," I really mean he "conquered" it.  On this hill climb, the one they call Ragnar, our own little goat took first prize. The Ragnar folks clock the hill climb, then list which team came in first.  Thanks to the Mountain Goat, our team won the hill climb.

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Look he runs all smiley and stuff too.


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... and the Goat is victorious!  
Oh, and check out the snow.  Snow levels not typical.


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Here we are at the finish.
Mountain Goat, Hillene, Hammer Runner, Rabid, Vinnie Vendrome, and Greg


I think we passed the 30-hours-in-the-car test.  What do you think?


Tuesday, June 21, 2011

Tuesday Tune, vol 83 – Fine Running Cannibals

Last weekend I was fortunate enough to participate and even finish the Wasatch Back Relay.  My team, Crack the COD (where you crack cod fishes instead of sleuthy codes) ran hard and relatively fast.  We had six runners instead of the standard twelve.  We also had three dudes and three gals who were all over 30.  This put us in the Ultra Coed Submasters division, in the which we smoked this division in 27:10:35 – that's 27 hours and 10 minutes, 35 seconds – an average pace of just under 8:30.  That's roughly 30 miles each, average pace of 8:30.  Not too shabby, eh?

Before I go on, I must confess that there were only two teams in our division.  So taking first or second was a shoe-in, provided we finish.  HOWEVER... I'd like to show you something:

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Do you see that?  We were only 4:50 from being first!  Us old farts were only 4 minutes and 50 seconds away from beating the young punks.  Speaking of us old farts, getting old has its advantages.  I remember my dad Mikey saying that his 40s were the best years of his life.  I remember him in his 40s, those were some good years for him.  I intend to fill those 40-years-are-best shoes.  (As of yesterday, I'm 39, so I don't get to have the best years of my life for another year.  Oh! I! Can't! Wait!)

I suspect that a full race recap will make its way into this blog, but I'm not promising a when.  Today, however, I'd like to talk about how I won't be running the Wasatch Back Relay again.  Prolly.  Most likely.  I won't say "never," just like Goonies never say "die," but odds are not likely that I'll undergo this adventure again.

Is it the running that makes it so tough?  So brutal that I won't do it again?  Absolutely not.  Running this event is the easy part.  The hard parts are the pesky pre-race pre-arrangements.  Good grief, this thing is a lot of work.  There's the finding of runners, the acquiring of vehicles, and the negotiation of volunteers – for each team must provide three volunteers, each for six hours.   And if that isn't a lot of work, there's the naming of the team, and the t-shirts to go with it.  There's also the assigning of who runs which, the team meetings, the pace-predictions, the food and water preparation, and making sure everyone shows up on time.  That's just the pre-race pre-arrangements.  There are also post-race post-arrangements.  After the race is over, there's the clean-up, which always occurs at the end of two days without sleep.

It's a lot of work.  But it's not just work, it costly.  Like up to $200 a person costly and that doesn't even count the vacation day and time away from the family.  Speaking of family, it's always Father's Day weekend, so I spend Father's day all tired and stuff.  That's not fair.

It is, indeed, a lot of work.  And it is, indeed, worth the efforts for four years.  After four years of this Wasatch Back business, I must say adieu.

I had decided that this would be my last year before we started running.  (Again, most likely.)  However, the minute I finished my last segments of the race, I was itching to do it again, and in Ultra fashion.  Ultra is where it's at.  A twelve man team is entirely too much waiting and not enough running.   I love to run.  I love to run the back side of the Wasatch mountains, the more miles the better.

Even though I've decided not to do it again, I've spent some time entertaining team names.  If... if... IF... I do it again, it will be an ultra team, and I will name this team The Fine Running Cannibals.  Cause I like 80s music and, you know, have a sick obsession with cannibalism.

The Fine Running Cannibals!  We eat our kills!*

*On the race, "kills" are used to count how many you pass.  When you pass someone, the passing is considered a "kill" and then you do a little tick-mark tracker thing on the window.  It's super silly.  Unless of course you decide to EAT YER KILLS!  I mean, 'round our parts we have a rule:  You kill it, you eat it.  Even spiders.


So, yeah, if I decide to do it again, which would need to include a sponsor because it's too expensive, it would be an Ultra team and it'd be The Fine Running Cannibals.  And that's why today's Tuesday Tunes are Fine Young Cannibals' tunes.

She Runs Like Crazy (It's really She Drives Me Crazy)
Good Thing (It's really Good Thing)
Don't Look Back (It's really Don't Look Back)
Suspicious 
Precious Behinds (It's really Suspicious Minds)
I'm Not the Runner I Used to Be (It's really I'm Not the Man I Used to Be)
Johnny Run Home (It's really Johnny Come Home – what is wrong, in my life, that I must go run every night! Hey Johnny!  Won't you run on home!)


Anyone out there care to sponsor this Fine Running Cannibals effort?  I'll entertain offers... I said I wouldn't do it again... but maybe if we had a sponsor... .... ... .... .... ...





Monday, June 20, 2011

Bacon Day

Around here, Father's Day is synonymous with Bacon, so we call it Bacon Day.  Spouse loves bacon.  The Yahoos love bacon.  It's also a day in which I'm reminded that should we come upon a rock and a hard place, and the family must choose between keeping me or having their bacon, that choice would be a difficult one.

I can hear the inner-dialog now.  Mom's good at laundry, and shopping, and putting meals on the table.  She makes us put the laundry and groceries away, however.  And after we eat, she barks at us to clean up our dishes.   But... she also kisses our boo-boos, makes our beds sometimes, and cleans the house.  On the flip side of that one, though, she also cleans out our boo-boos and that hurts and sometimes we dramatically cry about how neosporin stings when it really doesn't.  In regards to the making the bed thing, she only does that sometimes.  The other times she makes us do it ourselves!  Of all the nerve!  And, like, the house isn't cleaned all that much or often.  It's a pig sty most of the time, which would be okay if that pig sty included bacon.  She has been known to play with us here and there, or read to us, or help us with our school work.  But that's only sometimes.  She won't even play Minecraft with us.  


Now bacon... bacon...?  Bacon... is nothing but good.  Plus it never barks at us.

Do you see what I have to compete with around here?  My boys (Spouse is included when I say "boys") love their bacon.  And that's why we celebrate with at least two pounds of the greasy goo each and every Father's Day.

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While we made breakfast for Spouse, I asked the Yahoos a series of survival-related questions.  You know, the question where you say, "If you could only have one food... what would it be?"  Or, "If you were stranded on a deserted island with only one food to eat, what would it be?"  You can guess rather accurately how the Yahoos responded to this only-one-food question.  They said "bacon." Immediately, and without thought.

Why stop there?  Let's see how far this love of bacon can fly.

Me:  If you could only have one toy, what would it be?
Yahoos:  That one picnic toy.  It has play bacon in it.

Me:  If you could only have one beverage, what would you pick?
Yahoos: Hot bacon grease.  Sucked through a thick straw.

Me:  What's your favorite movie?
Yahoos:  It's a toss-up between Porkies 1 and Porkies 2.

Me:  If you were stranded on a deserted island, and could only listen to one album, what would it be?
Yahoos:  Getting There by the Bacon Brothers.

Me:  If you could live anywhere in the world.  Where would it be?
Yahoos:  Canada.  They make Canadian Bacon.

Me: And clothing?  What item of clothing would you keep?
Yahoos:  I'd make a bacon shirt.  Just like Lady Gaga.  That way I could eat my clothes when I get hungry.

Me: Who's your favorite actor?
Yahoos: Kevin Bacon... that's the reason everyone is only separated from him by six degrees.  It's the bacon.  Bacon brings people together.

Me: What kind of pet you would have, if you could have any pet?
Yahoos:  Duh...!  Pig.  We could fatten him up and eat him.

Me: What do you want to be when you grow up?
Yahoos:  A butcher!  Think of all that bacon!

Me: What's your favorite medium for art?
Yahoos:  Oh that one is easy. Bacon.

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This year, Spouse received a light for his bicycle.  You know what he said when he opened it?  "This is good.  Now I won't cry we-we-we all the way home when it gets dark."



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Wednesday, June 15, 2011

Hold My Beer and Watch This

It seemed a great idea a year ago.

That it being the Wasatch Back Relay as an Ultra team.  If you need a decent explanation of the Wasatch Back Relay, go here, but that link will only explain the Wasatch Back Relay as a regular team.  Regular being 191.7 miles with 12 runners.  An ultra team, on the other hand is still 191.7 miles, just 191.7 miles with half the runners.  Half of 12 is 6.  That's 191.7 miles with 6 runners.  That's half the man power, ultra the mileage, ultra the sleep-deprivation, ultra the blisters, ultra the time, ultra the pain, and ultra the fun!

Like I said, it seemed a great idea a year ago.

It all started with more runners than spots for our current team.  The last three years, I've secured a spot on a team called the Crack-o-Dawners.  Which, let's just face it, are a batch of the badassest runners around.  I've always felt honored to be numbered among the bunch.  However, being the badassest around, there are more people with interest than spots available.  My buddy Hillene hadn't secured a spot for this year (2011), so she started this discussion of running the Wasatch Back as an ultra team.  Hillene registered an ultra team, I found a replacement for me on the Crack-o-Dawners, and here we are.  On this next Friday the 17th, six of us, three dudes and three chicks, will run an average of 30 miles in (hopefully under) 26 hours.

In other words, "Hold my beer and watch this."

I believe that each ultra team can split up the legs any way they choose (or maybe not, haven't verified this, but like the Ragnar folks care... as long as they get their cash, right?)  We've decided to combine legs where each runner will run two legs of the course at a time.  I'm Runner 5 and Runner 6, and here's what I get to do while you hold my beer*.

*Not currently a drinker, so note that this "beer" business is a metaphor.  If you send me beer at the finish, that'll be fine anyways, 'cause I can use it boil some brats or slow-cook a pulled pork butt.  Sorry to those of you who thought that this was my official coming-out-to-drink-with-you post.  Vera.



Legs 5 & 6, a back-to-back 14.3 miles, at the hottest hour(s) of the day, without relief:

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Legs 17 & 18, a back-to-back 12.3 miles, in the middle of the freaking night, without relief:

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Legs 29 & 30, a back-to-back 6.1 miles, on tired and sleep-deprived legs, without relief:

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Tuesday, June 14, 2011

Tuesday Tune, vol 82 – Dream On!

There was a time in my not-so-distant past that I would shy away from telling folks about my dreams. If there was something I wanted to obtain, if there was goal I wanted to accomplish, or if there was a check I'd like on my list, you can rest assured that I'd be quiet about it.

There were two reasons. The first was my fear of others. I was afraid of making my dreams known and the mockery that might develop. I was afraid that my hopes for high accomplishment might furnish some ammo for criticism. "Rabid can't do that. She thinks she can, but she can't. Who does she think she is?" I was also afraid of what the collective "they" might say if I voiced a mark and failed to hit that mark. I was afraid of the many whispers, nay-sayers, and told-you-so-ers that would use my shortcomings for slander. It happens. I hear it all of the time. I'm rather sad to admit that I've done some nay-saying myself.

The other reason is the fear of success. What happens if my ambitions come to full fruitions? What then? I'm comfy where I'm at. If I hit those proposed goals, people might treat me differently. I might become a stinking slab of arrogance. I might not be comfy with success.

As you can see, these hesitations were induced mostly by what others think, and specifically, by what others think of me.

Well. That time has passed. I plan to dream and I plan to dream big. And if anyone feels the need to blather on about my many insufficiencies, I shall roll my shoulders and holler, "Who cares?" I will not allow any dissentient dictums to dictate my dexterities. Mine included. Sides, it's pretty darned self-absorbed to think that other people actually care give a rat's "a" about my dreams, right?  Right!

I could announce that I'm going to be an astronaut when I grow up, and you might opine that I'm not smart enough, or fit enough, or how there are already too many astronauts. You could even throw a wise-crack about me growing up – 'bout how it's not possible for me to grow up – but I'm still gonna say "Who cares!"

That's right, I'm going to dream big. I'm going to shoot for all of the stars in all of the next galaxies. I'm going to make lemonade out of sawdust. I'm going to dare to be great. I'm going to "Have an infinite capacity to not know what can't be done" (Henry Ford.) I'm going to "Let go of the past and go for the future. I'm going to go confidently in the direction of [my] dreams" (Henry David Thoreau.)

I'm going to dream on and dream big. I'm gonna "Dream until my dreams come true" (Steven Tyler.)

 I think you should dream on and dream big too. I'll be here with some pom-poms... to cheer you on 'n stuff.

Dream On – Aerosmith
Dreams – Brandi Carlile
Sweet Dreams [Of You] – Patsy Cline
Gemini Dream – The Moody Blues
Dreaming – Blondie
RĂ©verie (Daydream), L. 68 Peter Frankl – Claude Debussy
All My Dreams – Miss Hansen
I Have A Dream – ABBA
The Ragpicker's Dream – Mark Knopfler
And Then I Dreamt Of Yes – Dandy Warhols
Dreamboat Annie – Heart
Damien Dreams – Jeremy Enigk
Dreams In The Hollow – Jesca Hoop
Four Dreams – Jesca Hoop
Dreaming With A Broken Heart – John Mayer
An American Dream – Love and Rockets
Your Wildest Dreams – The Moody Blues
The Better To Dream Of You – Mary Chapin Carpenter
#9 Dream – R.E.M.
Dreamline – Rush
Little Dreamer – Van Halen
Dreams-Come-True-Girl (feat. Karen Black) – Cass McCombs
Lady Daydream – Twin Sister
Caravan Of Dreams –Acoustic Alchemy
Woke Up Dreaming – Joe Bonamassa
Sweet Dreams – Tori Amos
Any Dream Will Do – Donny Osmond
40 Day Dream – Edward Sharpe and The Magnetic Zeros
Moonage Daydream – David Bowie
That's Some Dream – Good Old War
Save Some Time To Dream – John Mellencamp
Land Of Dreams – Langhorne Slim
In Dreams – Roy Orbison
Dreamin' – Amos Lee
Dreams Of 18 – Lal Meri
Cowboy Of Dreams – Crosby and Nash
In My Dreams – Crosby, Stills and Nash
St. Robinson In His Cadillac Dreams – Counting Crows
California Analog Dream – Vondelpark
If I Can Dream – Elvis Presley
Hold The Dream – FireHouse
Dreams – Fleetwood Mac
These Dreams – Heart
You Make My Dreams – Hall and Oates
Dream On – Depeche Mode
More Than A Dream – Pet Shop Boys
Half Forgotten Daydreams – John Cameron
Sweet Dreams – Roy Buchanan
Dreams On Fire – A.R. Rahman
Sweet Dreams (Are Made Of This) – Eurythmics
The Dream Of The Dolphin – Enigma
Beyond My Wildest Dreams – Mark Knopfler and Emmylou Harris
Dreamland – Mary Chapin Carpenter

p.s. I just spent, like, 20 minutes doing copy and paste.  So make one of my dreams come true and click on just one.  Prolly Heart's These Dreams.  It'll make you miss the 80s in a major way.  You could also click on the Hall and Oats tune, and it'll make you miss the 80s in a major way, only different.  And if you want to miss the 80s in yet another different major way, click on Sweet Dreams from the Eurythmics. Blondie, Van Halen, Depeche Mode, or Love and Rocks are there too.  You have options. Perhaps you could let us all know which genre you fell into during your 80s reign.  Me?  I fit into all of 'em!  Or perhaps I didn't fit into any?  'Spose you could look at it that way too.



Friday, June 10, 2011

Camie's Run

 

At the end of March, a friend of many (even me!) was diagnosed with colon cancer.  This friend has a name, a glorious name, and that name is Camie.  Camie had immediate surgery and immediate chemotherapy.  I know Camie because we run around in similar running circles.  She's a spectacular human being who is super strong and has proven herself a cancer-fighting champion.

 

 

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Photo taken from Kris Holderness.

For the last while, Camie and her husband Andy have coached track and cross country a local high school.   A youngster at this high school, a gent with the name Taylor, decided that it was time the track team did something to honor Camie.  So Taylor honored Camie the way most runners tend to honor – he and his buddies threw Camie a run and called it Camie's Run.

 

 

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On June 4th, 2011, the Rabid Family ran Camie's 5k run.  There were three great parts of Camie's Run.

 

 

  1. My little family came.  All of us ran and all of us supported.  I appreciate that I have a family that loves to support my friends.
  2. Yahoo #1 ran a 5K personal record of 27:44. He started the run with a, "Mom.  I'm not going to walk.  I'm going to jog the whole time." I gave him a "Way to go, son, you can do it!" then made a mental note that the boy needed a chat about using the "J" word.
  3. Most importantly, thousands or even millions of people came to support Camie. Okay, not millions, but there were a lot of people there.  All of those people love Camie.  All of 'em.  They were there so as to say, "Hey Camie! We got your back, babe!"
It's true.  Camie, we got your back!

 

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Yahoo #1 won a major Powerade award.

Wednesday, June 08, 2011

Thor

Last night we saw Thor.  It was life changing.  Kidding.  But maybe not.  See, I thought it was a great show.  Full of fun, full of frolic, and oh so entertaining.  Spouse, on the other hand, declared it an over priced weakling without a proper story.  I believe his words were, "This is an excellent example of how special effects are a waste if the film doesn't have a decent story."

Immediately, I disagreed, and then we fought for many minutes and he slept on the couch.  Kidding.  But maybe not.  

I thought Thor had a good story.  Not great, but enough to keep me interested.  I was pleasantly surprised with this one.  In most action/adventure/special effects phantasms, I check out early if there isn't a good, fun story. I start looking at my watch.  I start thinking about the mePhone tucked away in silent mode, and how there's a dictionary app on that mePhone that could use some reading.  I start to wish I was doing something else.

I did not feel this way about Thor.  I was happy all the way through it.  And when it finished I began to have day-like dreams about Loki, for Loki is hot.  Thor is just a musclehead, meathead meh.  Loki?  He has mystery just like Spouse has mystery.  Loki appeals to my inner-goth.

I've since revealed my hots for this Loki character, and have been called everything from "high" to "blind."  Thor's a bore, folks.  Thor's a bore.  Loki is okey dokey.  

Anyway, Spouse disliked Thor.  I liked Thor.  The Yahoos were blown head-over-heels with this Thor.  So blown away were the Yahoos, that their new superhero playtime is all about Thor.  Yahoo #2 decided he'd need a Thor costume for a birthday/costume party that he was attending this afternoon.

Even though Spouse did not like Thor the movie, and I did not have the hots for Thor, the make-believe god of thunder, we went to work on a costume.  Spouse made the hammer, and I made the circled rivets that look more like the whats-its on milk producing animals.  See for your self:


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First, check out the lovely glow on the face from those tin-foiled 'n circled rivets.  I swear they should start making wedding dresses out of tin foil.  Think of the reflective properties that a tin-foiled wedding dress would provide!  You could say No! to dark circles, and Yes! to a a rosy glow.  Vera Wang should really get in on that action.

Isn't it funny that I started a post about Thor and now we're talking Vera Wang and wedding dresses?  Funny!  Anyway, back to Spouse disliking Thor.  After the show, I figured out why Spouse didn't like Thor.  It wasn't the story, or lack thereof.  It was the girl.  This girl:

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Spouse hates this girl. (I'm not going to say her real name because then someone might google that name and end up here. And, although I like a good controversy, I don't want a controversy that involves her.  Her people are much bigger than my people.  Heck, my people aren't even big enough to spar with the people from that one magazine from Utah Valley.)

Had I known twelve years ago that Spouse would have such hate for this sweet young thing, I might have called off our engagement.  Not really.  But maybe.  He extra especially hated the fact that she was cast to pull off a roll as an accomplished, explore-new-territory astrophysicist.

I have a similar hate for another girl.  It's this girl:

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Again, I'm not going to say her name. But I will tell you the reason I hate her. It's because she's carrying this guy's baby...

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... and she is SO NOT WORTHY!  (I'm not gonna say his name either.)



Tuesday, June 07, 2011

Tuesday Tune, vol 81 – Shoes

Today's Tuesday Tunes are all about shoes – running shoes mostly – and are brought to you by Saucony, Brooks, Mizuno, Asics, and more of the others, Puma, Adidas, Nike, Zoot, Pearl Izumi, Altra, La Sportiva, Newton, and don't forget K-Swiss.  Look at all the folks who make running shoes these days!  So many running shoes, so little time to provide you with links.  (This is a one-woman operation, you know.  I don't have a secretary sitting around ready to give each post the adequate URL business.)

Remember my friend Randi?  Remember how she brought two right shoes to the Ogden Marathon? Becca (yet another friend) and I decided to pull a funny on this Randi.  First, we gathered up our old, used-up, washed-out, traveled-upon running shoes.  Next, we boxed up only the left shoe from each pair of these old, used-up, washed-out, traveled-upon running shoes.  Finally, we rigged a special prize for Randi at Camie's Run last Saturday.  (Full race report coming soon!)

The race announcer called Randi's name, then handed Randi a box of left shoes.  Randi now has plenty of lefties available if by chance she brings two righties again.

Becca also whipped up a poem.  Becca's super good and talented like that.  She should harness that poem-producing power and publish some stories for children.  Here's that poem:

Two Right Shoe Blues

There once was a girl who wanted to run
A race with her friends-it would be so much fun!
So get ready she did; she ran fierce, far and strong-
Because this fun race was really quite long.
And after the training was done and complete
She prepared for a fantastic pre-race retreat!
She packed up her stuff-her gear and her GU*
She packed up her shorts, and then her right shoe.
Then tragically! Sadly! she picked up another
Shoe that would be the right one’s twin brother.
Then off this girl went to the pre-race retreat
With only two right shoes to cover her feet.
And sadly this detail snuck silently by
Until in the car, the girl said with a sigh:
“OH NO!!! There’s a problem-and it’s really bad!
I only have right shoes and I’m really mad!”
But just when she thought her day was a bummer
That cute girl was rescued by the Rabid Runner!
Said Rabid: “Don’t worry, don’t fret over there
I brought me a spare set of shoes that I’ll share.”
So around turned the car and the girl soon declared
That Rabid, the runner, came mighty prepared,
To rescue a damsel quite stuck in distress
And save her from a right shoe mess.
And since Rabid is smart and quite funny too
She thought of this fantastic prize just for you!

*I realize that it may or may not be an insult to imply that GU was used during the training for and participation in this race, but it was the best rhyme I could come up with, so you just have to pretend!


Here's Randi with her Shoes:

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... and here's Becca, Randi and me

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... and here are the Shoe Tuesday TunesShunes, if you will:

Blue Suede Shoes – Elvis Presley
These Boots Are Made for Walkin' – Nancy Sinatra
New Shoes – Paolo Nutini
New Pair of Shoes – Endless Boogie
Diamonds On The Soles Of Her Shoes – Paul Simon
Velvet Slipper – The Lem Arcon Sound (UK)
Whose Muddy Shoes – Elmore James
Boogie Shoes – K.C. and The Sunshine Band
Sand In My Shoes – Dido
My Goody Two-Shoes Brother – Dr. Doofenshmirtz
Vacuum Boots – The Brian Jonestown Massacre
Runnin' Shoes – The Fabulous Thunderbirds
Hi-heel sneakers – Pinetop Perkins
Pump My Pumps – Dan Black
Boots of Chinese Plastic – The Pretenders
To Lick Your Boots –  Eels
Walking In My Shoes – Depeche Mode



Thursday, June 02, 2011

AF Canyon Half Marathon

 

In the early hours of each morning, and whenever I meet friends for a run, I sit in the car, (or wherever) and I read my e-mail.  It's a great start to the morning.  This very morning, I had a surprise.  It was an e-mail from the one and only Fat Cyclist, aka "Fatty," aka husbandero of the woman they call The Runner*.  This Fatty feller asked for a favor.  And when Fatty asks for a favor, you just do it.  Because he's Fatty.  Because he's famous.  Because he's joined in holy matrimony to The Runner.  Because he's a super-hero, philanthropic chap who donates beaucoup time and bacon bars and bicycles and water bottles – all sorts of stuff – to fight cancer.

 

*The Runner has officially joined our RAGNAR Wasatch Back Relay team and we are all over-the-top excited to have her!
So Fatty sent me an e-mail, and Fatty asked for a favor, and I immediately obliged because that's what you do for Fatty, and yeah, we already went over that.  I just felt like dropping Fatty's name some more.
Fatty asked that I give a shout-out of sorts to a race he's promoting.  That race is the AF Canyon Half Marathon and 5k.

Not too long ago, I mentioned in a post, that I had plans to shake up the summer half marathon schedule.  Part of that shake-up involved the AF Canyon Half Marathon.  And since the bus loading and finish line is a mere 400 meters from my humble abode, I've started some plans for a slumber party.  We're all going to sleep out on the tramp, just like we're twelve, then roll off the tramp at 4:30 to catch the buses.  The date for this magnificent event is June the 25th.
So... what do you have going on June the 25th?  Come run the AF Canyon Marathon with me.  And with Fatty.  There's still time to register.  And because you're friends of me, and I'm friends with Fatty (I guess), then ya'll get a promo code for $10 off.  That coupon code is:  "fightcancer."  Did you catch that?  No?  Let me give it to you bigger:
The AF Half Marathon Promo code for $10 off is "fightcancer" and you can register here.

Now why do you think that this promo code is fightcancer, and not runwithfatty, or even runstrong, or runrunrun, or rabidisrad ('cause Rabid is rad,) or whatever? It's because this AF Half Marathon is all about fighting cancer. And specifically, it helps local people afflicted with cancer. 100% of the race registration fee goes toward cancer patients in our community who cannot afford care.  There's a limited amount of promo codes available, so hurry NOW and register.  Like NOW.  Don't think about it, just do it.

Running a half marathon or 5k down majestic American Fork Canyon, and raising money for local cancer patients should be reason enough to run this race, right?  But wait!  There's more!  Oh how there is more!  This race is muchy.  This race has muchness.  Let me tell you about its muchness, and the many reasons you should be part of this muchness.

1.  100% of the race registration fee goes toward cancer patients in our community who cannot afford care. I know I've already said this, but this is paramount and worth mentioning twice.  How many races can donate 100% of the registrations fees?

2.  Prize drawings at the finish, which include 15 free mammograms from the American Fork Hospital. I don't know about you, but the only thing that can make a gal smile about a mammogram is a free mammogram.  However, the word "mammogram" by itself makes me smile every time.  For some reason.  Maybe because you feel like hollering "MAM! OH! GRAM!" when you get one.  Or maybe because getting a mammogram is essential for catching the cancer early.

3. Technical shirt from Nike in both men and women sizes. Hello?  It's about time.  I've got gobs of mens t-shirts that I never wear.  A woman has needs.  And one of those needs is a woman's sized t-shirt.

4.  Gu on the course. In two spots.  Yum.  (Incidentally, that's like worth four bucks right there. What with purchasing the Gu from a retailer, and driving to get the Gu, and the electricity to store the Gu – you realize that Gu requires electricity to keep the carbs charged, right?  Just kidding.  I'm totally messing with you.)

5.  All finishers receive a fine finisher's medal. Oh, and lookey there!  A sneak peak of that medal:

 

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Object may or may not be true to size....
6.  French toast and other goodies at the finish. The only thing that could beat French toast at the finish would be French toast with figs, fondue, fries, fritters, and perhaps a flank steak, with feta and fava beans on farfalle-formed frankfurters.

 

7.  Fatty will be speaking at the starting line. This would be a special treat.  For we'd all get to see if his spoken words are as put-together as his written words.

8.  Spouse and Yahoos might wake up to cheer for you at the finish. Might.  Depends on if I call 'em at mile 8 to wake 'em up.  And then if I have to wake them up for the cheering, then you'd need to be behind me.  And since I'm running an ultra relay of around 30 miles the weekend before, it's looking like most of you will be in front of me.  So perhaps I'll have one of my fast friends wake up Spouse and the Yahoos at mile 8.  Sign up now and you can be that fast friend!