rabidrunner

This Is The Sound....!

2012-01-30T14:00:00.003-07:00

I realize today isn't Tuesday, but you're going to get a tune anyways. It's

The Sound of Silence by Simon and Garfunkel

Note the photo below. This is not the sound of silence. It's the sound (and site) of water damage. Boo! The blowing hum of these basement-savers produces enough white noise to silence the whole neighborhood I cannot wait to turn them off!

Women's Olympic Trial Marathon

2012-01-23T21:00:00.003-07:00

Holy smokes I'm busy! Wow. Like, I'm so busy that I think I'm busier than everyone else. Like, I'm the only one with a job – which has a busy-pull-yer-hair-out season of RIGHT NOW, and kids, and a birthday party to plan – complete with eight-year-old religious rite, and an anniversary – twelve years young, and a Spouse who's been called to work – for an absurdly undeterminable amount of time – to repair some international espionage-esque hacking, I AM THE BUSIEST PERSON ON THE PLANET. I might even be busier than Martha Stewart. Or at least busier that you.

Right here I'm totally making fun of how we women (yes, even me) have I'm-busier-than-anybody-else contests. It's that one thing, where we list (and list and list), all of the worth while crap we gotta do. Which, let's just face it, had we forgone the academy-award-wining display of said list, half of it would be complete. These contests aren't official, or even acknowledged verbally, but they're happening. And for the record, "worth while crap" is a very relative term, in that what's worth while crap to you ain't worth while crap to me. Mostly because what I consider worth while is crap, so there you go.

I am soooooo busy that it's a good thing I'm not training for the Olympics or something. Few... That was close! But you know who is training for the Olympics? Shalane Flanagan, and Desiree Davila, and Kara Goucher! Care for a recap of how that came to be? Sorry, not today for I'm just too busy. Kidding!

Rabid and Yahoos at the finish line, the day before race.

On January 14, 2012, at exactly 8:15am, the Women's Olympic Trial Marathon was kicked into gear by Frank Shorter. I think. Don't quote me on that. Maybe it was Joan Benoit Samuelson. If you know who did shoot that gun, let me know.

This Olympic Trial Marathon for women is my second live viewing. I saw the women's race in Boston's 2008 trials. This was so much fun. So fun was this race, that it was worth a repeat. Hence the Houston Trip.

As stated earlier, we had just watched the first lap of the Men's Olympic Trial marathon and were patiently waiting for the women. (We were strategically situation at miles 1.25ish, 9.25ish, 18.25ish, and 25.25ish.) When lo and 17 minutes and 45 seconds behold... the Women! Running slower than normal. We heard later that their first mile was in the 6:30 range.

Here's the lead pack. Davila in front. To me it looked like everyone in that pack had chosen Davila as the girl to beat, and therefore decided to stick behind her. Davila, on the other hand, looked as if she was waiting for someone to pick up the pace and declare the game "on."

Then there's Goucher. Sigh. That girl is so hot. She ran right by me.

More Goucher. I refrained from posting all of my Goucher photos so that Spouse wouldn't get worried or jealous.

Then the masses passed.

Then we waited. There's Spouse. Sigh. That boy is hot. I didn't post all of my Spouse photos so that Goucher wouldn't get worried or jealous.

At lap two, the field had split considerably. Up front were (left to right), Davila, Katie McGregor, Shalane, ???, Janet, Hastings, Deena, and Goucher.

Round three was exciting. Amy Hastings was in the lead! And looking awesome.

Followed by a Flanagan, Goucher, Davila scrambling.

Further back, Janet and Deena looked like they were sticking together.

The third to fourth lap was the most fun. The field had spread and there was lots to watch. Just when the last female ran by, Shalane Flanagan turned the corner and in the lead! She was hauling ass.

Davila was close behind Flanagan. But not close enough to catch, it seemed. We were pretty sure that Shalane Flanagan had won the race at this time.

Just behind Desiree Davila, was that babe Goucher.

... then that other babe Amy Hastings. She has my favorite running style of the bunch. Very tight, efficient and strong looking.

Janet was fifth. She finished the race with an eight-minute personal best. Wow.

Deena came in sixth with a 2:30:40. Deena had a baby ten months ago, by the way.

Men's Olympic Trial Marathon

2012-01-19T20:00:00.001-07:00

On January 14, 2012, and for the first time ever, the Men's and Women's Olympic Trial Marathon was held on the same course, at the same. Houston, Texas was the place. The men's race started at 8:00 and the ladies started at 8:15. Today, I plan to give a brief recap of the men's race.

The marathon course was a 2-mile loop followed by three 8-mile loops. Therefore, if one picked their spot right, one could see the runners zip by four times. HOLY FREAK! I WAS THAT ONE! I PICKED OUR SPOT JUST RIGHT. I SAW THEM ALL FOUR TIMES!

Here's the course map. We were stationed at the 15k mark, which was also 1.25ish, 9.25ish, 18/25 ish, and 25.25ish:

I suppose it all began when I picked the hotel. I picked a hotel downtown because that was where the action is. In my traveling days, I've learned that if you're going to travel thousands of miles, for cryin' out loud, stay in a strategic location; a location close to whatever action you plan to partake.

As luck would have it, I picked a hotel right along the marathon course. It was a blind selection that turned into a total treat. So here we are in our spot, bright 'n early. Waiting...

... and eating...

...and reading...

At long last, we looked, and behold! The truck with the clock!

(Notice the time for 1.25ish miles.)

Then who should appear in the lead? Ryan Hall!

Then Abdi Abdirahman, Dathan Ritzenhein, Meb, and Mo Trafeh.

The masses followed.

We waited patiently for the women to come around. After the women came by the first time (women's race will be documented at a later time, hopefully tomorrow), we waited in ernest for the men to make their second loop. Finally (felt like forever, but not really) the boys made their way around to the 15k mark. The lonely lead was a pack of five.

(Ritz, Abdi, Meb, Hall, and Mo)

After the men made their second loop, I spotted Ryan Hall's little brother. I have no proof that this was Ryan Hall's little brother. However, the gent next to him was sporting an official Olympic Trial something-er-other, and the kid was dressed head-to-toe Asics. Also, notice the smile. It's totally his little brother.

With what seemed like a mere blink, round three at approximately 18.25ish miles, was before us. With the lady race happening in between, there was plenty to watch. Trafeh had fallen back, but the four up front were running strong.

(Meb, Hall, Ritz, Abdi)

Shortly thereafter, Utah's very own Paul Petersen made his way through the pack. He looked great. I hollered his name and he looked at me with a confused Who the...? I'm Rabid, 'member me?

By the time the boys had made their fourth lap, approaching us at 25.25 miles, they had caught up to the girls. MEB WAS IN THE LEAD! Oh my stars! Somehow, Meb had zipped past us without me seeing him (imagine that) and I couldn't get a photo of him before he passed. Here's his backside. Meb is sponsored by Sketchers now. I tried on some of those Sketchers while in Houston. Figured they'd help me run 5-minute miles for a couple of hours straight.

Hall was next. He was far enough back that we were sure that Meb would win.

Next was Abdi...

... then Ritz not too far behind. Ritz was working so hard! I hollered at Ritz to Go! Go! Go! so very loud, that I scratched my larynx. Or some other body part nestled in there.

Guess who fought his way into fifth place? None other than Brett Gotcher! I wanted Gotcher on the team. Heck, I wanted them all on the team. Can't they all be on the team? They are all so very awesome!

Houston Table of Contents

2012-01-18T13:00:00.002-07:00

Today is Wednesday, the 18th of January, and our vacation is officially over. Frownie face. In an effort to solidify last week's events into a lasting impressions memory bank, I shall recount each and every last detail.

Not today though. Today, I build the Table of Contents, which is totally backwards, but oh well. And it won't be a true table, in that it will be in paragraph form instead of a list, but oh well again. I need to take inventory of what happened real quick-like so that the memory bank has each and every last one of those lasting impressions.

On Thursday, January 12...
... at approximately 9:00am, we loaded ourselves onto an airplane. I read some of Great Expectations, and the Top 100 Guitar-Gurus-Like-Evah issue of Rolling Stone. I handed another issue of Rolling Stone to Yahoo #2. (I received a subscription for Christmas and they sent me three at once to catch up or something.) Yahoo #2 subsequently opened the mag to a page housing a class-act photo of Courtney Love flashing her tatas. That would be super-cynical-great-parenting-moment number one million. The photo was blurred, but it did show skin. And it did show Courtney Love. And it did present some horror to the poor boy. Which makes me super sad that his first non-related exposure to tatas were Courtney Love's.

Spouse read a four-hundred-eighty-seven-charactered Robert Jordan* book. I think. Yahoo #1 is into the Animorphs series lately. He finishes one about every other day.

*I've since learned that it's a George R.R. Martin book, not Robert Jordan, but being incorrect about his book selection is part of history now and I must leave it as is.

The plane-ride was without incident, and the capturing of luggage, rental car, and directions went equally without incident. We checked into a hotel downtown – The Hyatt on Louisiana between Polk and Clay, if you must know – and began the mad scramble for food. Everyone had become hangry. We had a chicken 'n basil 'n tomato 'n garlic 'n olive oil pizza – which Yahoo #2 hated and cried because of our blatant injustice (directly to him), then we fought a un-Texan-like head-wind on our way to the Houston Aquarium. It was cold! Later, we learned that the Aquarium had great food. You could go around to the many tanks, pick your fish, and they'd stick it 'n fry it before your eyes. Just kidding. They don't do that, but we heard the food is great.

We walked back to the hotel through the theatre district and crashed while watching TV.

On Friday, January 13...
... Spouse and I refinanced the house in the lobby of the Hotel. Weird. It was truly paranormal. Spouse had started the house-refi-ball rolling a while back ('cause like we wanted to cash in on the low-interest rate thing that's sweeping the nation.) Due to that term "lock in," we had to sign the paperwork and whatnot before the end of the week. They sent a Houston notary to watch us sign. Still weird.

After the signing, we explored the Houston Tunnels without getting lost. Kind of. We definitely did some back-tracking. Not all was lost over this back-tracking, however, because Yahoo #2 mastered escalator entry and exit (a true feat... Remember when the escalator was as scary as the high dive?)

We arrived at the convention center, coincidentally the start and finish of the Olympic Trials and Houston Marathon, picked up my bib – labeled "Rabidrunner," which I didn't remember signing up for – wandered the expo and took the tunnels back to our hotel.

We spent the afternoon with Spouse's brother and kids in a community called The Woodlands. We played a rousingly frustrating game of frisbee golf, then I ran six miles while Spouse's brother made us dinner. The miles were heavenly and sea-level, and the food was spectacular. Turns out that Spouse's brother loves to cook. He also loves the Food Network. So much did he love this Food Network, that his former TV had the Food Network logo burned into the bottom right.

On Saturday, January 14...
... I woke up early. Really early. I wanted to make sure we had a spot front and very center, so as to spectate and photagraph the Olympic Trial marathon rightly. I mean, that Olympic Trial marathon was 60% of the reason for scheduling this trip. That 60% figure is exact, by the way. Turns out, I didn't need to get up early, because on a course of roughly 8-10 miles (they did one two mile loop, then three 8ish mile loops,) there's plenty of spectator room. This part of the trip will get two of its very own posts soon. One for the women's race, another for the men. Stayed tuned.

After the race, we went back to our room. The course ran right past alternate sides of our hotel, so we didn't have far to go. I napped for about an hour, 'cause, like, I had to run the next day. Then we watched the Olympic Trial rebroadcast on the tube. We are weird like that. I'd watch it again if I had access. There are definite differences between tube-watching a marathon, and actually seeing the competition unfold. More to come on that.

That evening, we decided to drive by the LDS temple in Spring and have dinner there. Because of construction, we were stuck in traffic for hours, arrived late, and, once again, were very hangry. To avoid a possible "lack of food situation" for young children, and pre-marathoners, we just grabbed some Chinese. It was spicy Chinese and prolly not a great choice. But they had brown rice. My body does well on brown rice.

On Sunday, January 15...
... I ran the Houston marathon in 3:17:09. A serious accomplishment for the circumstances, AND, I had the time of my life. The end left me extremely pleased and very sick to my stomach. After pickles and juice – the recovery food of gut-sick-champions – we went to the Children's Museum of Houston. We played there for about four hours, had some Tex-Mex, left my purse in the restaurant (duh!) went back for it in a panic, and it was still there. Praise Karma.

We (really, I) have become hooked on Sprinkles cupcakes. This is all thanks to Jessica, who brought us some from LA the last time she was in town. Turns out, there was one in the greater Houston metropolis, and we spent an hour finding it. Was it worth it? Not sure, 'cause the Yahoos ate half of both my peanut butter cupcakes. Of all the nerve. I just ran 26.2 miles (26.5 according to my watch) I can have TWO cupcakes, all to myself. Right? Please show some support for me right now on this delicate issue.

On Monday, January 16...
... we visited the San Jacinto battleground – which was instrumental in liberating Texas from the tyranny of General Santa Anna of Mexico – and we played battleship for a couple hours on the U.S.S. Texas. After we could no longer take the oil-fish smell on that boat, we asked the Yahoos, "Would you rather go to the Space Station or play with the cousins?" They picked "Cousins." Of course. Cousins rule. So we went back to The Woodlands to play in the park and chat and eat Pho and Sushi. Spouse's brother and family were terrific hosts.

On Tuesday, January 17...
... it was our last day. I wanted to photograph a fountain and take Spouse to this ritzy area of town that the marathon went through. This was the Galleria area of town, where the high-end housing and shopping resides. We partook in a Kolache brunch, wandered through Neiman Marcus and others 'til we couldn't stand it any longer (seriously... who pays $500 for a dang blouse? Who? Think of the down coat you can buy for 500 bones. Or skis? Or bike parts? Or... ?) This mall-jaunt led us to believe that Houston is bringing in GOBS of cash. Gobs.

After leaving the mall, Spouse drove by the Lululemon joint, we went in, and I bought nothing. What the...? Am I okay? I'm okay. I'm more than okay. I just had five blissful days of play with my family. Nothing can top that. Not even Lululemon.

Storage Olympic Hopefuls

2012-01-14T14:00:00.002-07:00

I have lots to say about today's Olympic Trial Marathon, for it was the most fun I've had in years. I don't have the time to tell ya'll about this race just now, for I'm resting and relaxing with the family.

Tomorrow, I run. Meb says you should always have a strategy. Ryan Hall said that his trials' strategy was to have no strategy. Therefore, I'm going to have a strategy and no strategy – a runner's metaphorical cake 'n eat it too. I will run 7:40s for three miles. If I "feel it," then I shall "pump up the kicks" and let the Rabid roar. If I don't feel it, I shall chill and meet some friends.

With that, I leave you with my favorite photos of the day (kind of... I got some great ones of the leaders – to show you later – oh, and Amy Hastings is my new favorite!)

The Storage Hopefuls: Either I'm way good at photoshop, or there's two. Photos taken at mile 25ish. They dress the same, they step the same, they swing the same. Perhaps their mama made them wear different colored laces to tell them apart? Perhaps.

Olympic Hopeful: Amy Hastings

2012-01-13T08:00:00.002-07:00

This is Amy Hastings. She's fast. She landed a marathon debut of 2:27:03 at the Los Angeles marathon. She trains with Deena Kastor in Mammoth Lakes, California. Amy is from Kansas and ran for ASU.

Olympic Hopeful: Brett Gotcher

2012-01-12T20:00:00.003-07:00

There's this California punk* named Brett Gotcher. He says his name like Go-tcher (not Gaw) because he Gos. Not really. I'll bet he pronounces his name Go-tcher because that's how his ancestry came upon the pronunciation. But I didn't come here to talk about the vowel modulation of a California punk's last name, I came here to talk about a California punk and how he runs.

*Punk is an endearing term in my vocabulary, by the way.

Brett Gotcher, a graduate of Stanford University, is 27 and trains in the mountains of Flagstaff, Arizona. While spending time with a few hip 'n edgy NAU graduates in Arizona last summer, we learned that locals do not call it Flagstaff. They refer to it as just Flag. As in We're going to Flag for the weekend, or, NAU is in Flag.

Flag is at 7000 feet, so I see why Brett would choose Flag as his high altitude training station. He is part of Greg McMillan's elite post collegiate program, and holds the fourth fastest marathon qualifying time – a smoking 2:10:36. This Brett Gotcher is most definitely a contender.

Incidentally, Greg McMillan holds a Spring and Fall running/training camp for old people (aka adults.) I want to go. Anyone wanna go to Flag and run with me? I'm being serious. (For reals. Now, had I said "seriously" instead of "I'm being serious," then you could rest assured that I'm not all that invested, as "seriously" has joined the ranks of "what's up with that?" and "it's all good" and other such euphemisms made popular in this, the 21st century, which, while they mean something, they've become diluted by illustrious use.)

This professional distance running thing is so much work. Did you know that? As I've read various bios, and what each has been up to, I've noticed that all of them fight the daily battle of health. Brett Gotcher has had hip issues. Dathan Ritzenhein, an achilles issue requiring multiple surgeries. And Meb Keflezighi missed many weeks of training because of a foot infection. Keeping each athlete's machine in top working order is no small feat. And gearing them up for a specific day is a divine work of art. To compete, their bodies must be spot on. To do well, their willpower brain-stuff must be dialed in as well.

My hat is off to all of them.

Olympic Hopeful: Dathan Ritzenhein

2012-01-11T15:00:00.001-07:00

Today's Olympic Hopeful is 29-year-old, Michigan-born, University of Colorado-alum, Alberto Salazar-coached-in-Oregon, Dathan Ritzenhein. Few. I'll bet I couldn't load that sentence more if I tried.

Ritzenhein had some great competition in his years for he is the same age as super greats Alan Webb and Ryan Hall – I'd trade a load of cash to watch three race. Ritzenhein was the Footlocker cross country champ in 1999 and 2000 (two years!) and is the current 5k American record holder of the 5k. He married Kalin Toedebusch – also a University of Colorado distance runner – and have spawned two future runners of the girl and boy variety.

Dathan will be 2nd or 3rd. I predict. You can read his blog here.

Olympic Hopeful: Shalane Flanagan (Tuesday Tune vol 105)

2012-01-10T21:00:00.000-07:00

Today's Tuesday Tunes are Shalane Flanagan's. Now get a load of how today's post unraveled: As is the case with all Tuesday Tunes, I let them just fly at me. I don't ever sit down, with applied pressure and tension headache, to say, "It's Tuesday and I need some Tunes." No siree, for Tuesday Tunes cannot be forced. I just go about my day, and if a Tuesday Tune inspiration comes my way, then so be it. If not, then so not be it.

Well, today, I was thinking about Shalane Flanagan. Mostly about how fast she is and whatnot. But also about how spectacularly adorable she is, and how she should be one of Rabidrunner's Olympic Hopefuls. Then it hit me. She prolly has some tunes on the internet somewhere! After a quick google, my hunch proved true. Runner's World published a Playlist of hers not too long ago.

The funny thing about this list, however, is that some ugly Joe in a basement somewhere left a comment and declared her playlist "crap." I was all sorts of disgusted with this Joe. For one thing, any true music aficionado knows and testifies, that when it comes to music, there is one rule: to each their own. There's no such thing as the end-all, be-all in music. True music-lovers respect others' taste in music. So while Joe is holed-down in a basement in his ugly unders, listening to Blink 182 and all the bands that sound like Blink 182 (or whatever), and wallowing in his musical superiority, others of us are looking at one another's lists and showing some respect. 'Cause we all know that we're about to discover something we like, right?

Truthfully, I've never met a playlist I didn't like.

So with that, here are some go-get-'em tunes a la Shalane Flanagan:

Saul Williams – List of Demands
Fergie – Glamorous
Mary J. Blige – Just Fine
Kevin Rudolf & Little Wayne – Let It Rock
Coldplay – Viva la Vida
Kid Cudi – Day 'n' Nite
Lady GaGa – Poker Face (Watch this one for the rad black 'n white Great Danes!)
Vampire Weekend – A-Punk
Maroon 5 – Harder to Breath
Metro Station – Shake It
Lupe Fiasco ft. Matthew Santos – Superstar
T.I. ft Rihanna – Live Your Life
Christina Aguilera – Fighter
Bruce Springsteen – Working On a Dream

Now that we've covered Flanagan's musical taste, let's move on to her Olympic Hopeful featurette. Massachusettes-raised Shalane Flanagan is 30 years of age, and the current American record holder for the 3k, 5k, and 10k. She owns (and fondles daily, I'm sure) a Bronze from the Bejing Olympics in the 10k. Running is in her genes, I suppose, as she was born to runners Cheryl Bridges (former world champion marathoner) and Steve Flanagan (a 2:18 marathoner.) Shalane attended and ran for the University of North Carolina-Chapel Hill, and is married to Steven Ashley Edwards.

Here are the Shalane Flanagan Personal Greats:

1500 m – 4:05.86 (Eugene, Oregon 10 June 2007)
3000 m – 8:33.25 (Boston, Massachusetts 27 January 2007)
5000 m – 14:44.80 (Walnut, California 13 April 2007)
10,000 m – 30:22.22 (NR Beijing, China 15 August 2008)
Half marathon – 1:08:36 (Philadelphia, Pennsylvania 19 September 2010)
Marathon – 2:28:40 (New York City, New York 7 November 2010)

Right here and now, I predict that Shalane will be on the U.S. Olympic marathon team. Let's see if I'm right! Three days and counting...

Olympic Hopefuls: Adam and Kara Goucher

2012-01-09T15:00:00.002-07:00

Today's Olympic Hopefuls are Adam and Kara Goucher. They're married. Isn't that sweet? They're going to run the Olympic Trials together! (Spouse? Can we run an Olympic Trials Marathon together? Pretty please? As if a pretty please and an eyelash batting will get me to the Olympic Trials. As! If!)

Kara was born in Queens, New York, but moved to Duluth, Minnesota at age four when her father was killed by a drunk driver. Kara started running at age six. She says, "I love to run. I truly believe I was born to do it. My quest for the perfect race is an adventure that never loses its excitement for me." She competed in high school, and later ran for the University of Colorado where she graduated in 2001.

Kara ran well at shorter distances (1500, 5000, 10000), but discovered in 2007 that maybe longer races were her forte. In 2007, she ran a 1:06:57 half marathon, which made her the fastest American woman ever to run that distance. In 2008, Kara competed in the Bejing Olympics – the 5000 and 10000 – and nailed some personal bests. She didn't medal in Bejing, but was well on her way to greatness.

Kara's marathon debut was during the fall of 2008 with a dizzyingly fast New York in 2:25:53. Kara took third and established herself as America's next great distance runner. In 2009, she ran the Boston marathon in 2:32:25. In 2010, she had a baby boy and named him Colt. In 2011, she returned to the Boston to finish in 2:24:52 – her new personal marathon best.

Until recently, Kara has trained with distance running legend Alberto Salazar. She and Adam live and run in Portland, Oregon. You can follow Kara's blog here.

Adam Goucher was born and raised in Colorado Springs. In 1993, Adam won the Footlocker National High School Cross Country Championship, which, seriously, is a big deal. Big. Like Adam was the fastest high school aged boy in the nation for 1993. See? Big deal. Adam also ran for the University of Colorado. I presume this is where the couple met, but have yet to discover the story. So for now, I guess we get to "guess" the specifics of the Goucher romance.

In 2000, Adam qualified for the Olympic Team in the 5000 and competed in the Sydney Olympics. He placed 13th. From 2000 on, Adam has struggled with some significant injuries. He didn't make the Olympic team in 2004 due to an achilles problem. He has spent the last few years running with and supporting his lovely wife, Kara.

Adam qualified for the Olympic Trial marathon at the Philadelphia Rock 'n Roll half marathon with a time of 1:04:53. Those Gouchers like their times in the 52 and 53 seconds, don't they? Also, did you know you can qualify for the Olympic Trial marathon by running a half? Or even a 10k? It's true. Check it out.

Adam wrote a book recently. It's called Running The Edge. Kara also wrote a book. It's called Kara Goucher's Running for Women: From First Steps to Marathons.

I'm super excited to see what these Gouchers end up doing this weekend. Aren't you? Gads, this is exciting!

One Hundred Years of Solitude

2012-01-08T21:00:00.005-07:00

(One Hundred Pages) of One Hundred Years of Solitude
by Gabriel García Márquez

I have two major rules. They are:

1) The One-Mile Rule
2) The Hundred-Page Rule

The One-Mile Rule is my running rule. The subset rules of this major rule involve running a mile. The rule says I must run a mile. And if I feel like crap after that one mile, then I can call it quits. But no matter how crappy I feel, no matter how grumpy, or bloated, or bored, or no matter how bad the head hurts, just give it a mile. If, after that one mile is over, I still feel the yuck, I can turn around and call it a day.

I have used the One-Mile Rule many times. As of today, I've yet to call it quits after that first mile. Usually a mile is all it takes for me to realize that "Hey! This is fun. I feel okay. Let's keep going."

I also have a reading rule. It's called the Hundred-Page rule. The subset rules of this rule mandates that I must read a hundred pages. If I've finished a hundred pages, and the book is either horribly dull or too much work to enjoy, then I can toss it aside and get a new one. After all, reading is entertainment now, not work.

I read tax instructions for pay (meaning it's my job.) Nothing is more work than reading tax instructions. Therefore, if my entertainment selection is even the slightest amount of work, I say it's a no go. Being an adult is great sometimes, isn't it? Like, you totally get to choose what you want to read and when.

Incidentally, it's prolly not a good idea to tell your teenagers that one of the highlights of adulthood is choosing your own book. Might give 'em a sense of impending doom. I can hear it now. Wait... What...? Choosing your own book is one of the perks of being an adult...? What the...? That's it? Not a million dollars or a mansion? Or Disneyland every weekend?

I gave One Hundred Years of Solitude a hundred pages. Nothing happened, really. Except for the father of the clan went nuts and they tied him to a tree. That was exciting. Also, there was a sister-chick fight over marrying some piano forte dealer who came to town, and one of the sister-chicks tried to poison the other sister-chick, but then the poison ended up killing their sweet, innocent, peace-making sister-in-law.

Other than the excitement listed above... oh and one of the brothers spent the night with a gypsy. She ended up with child, then the brother bailed town, and the gypsy dumped the baby on the front porch for the family to raise. So I guess there was some excitement. But it just wasn't exciting. Nothing really happened. And when something did happen, like the traveling gypsy magician died, the author just said, "He died. And they mourned for a year." Or something like that.

One Hundred Years of Solitude is a family affair. A tale that chronicles the entire this 'n thats of three generations. All three generations, however, have the same dang name. I guess that's a thing – this naming your offspray after yourself. All three main characters had the same name and I could not keep track of who did what with whom and when.

Anyway, I gave One Hundred Years of Solitude its symbolic hundred pages, found it too much work, and took it back to the library. I've since picked up Great Expectations. I'm into that masterpiece sixteen blissful pages. This one will pass the hundred page rule.

Drinking: A Love Story

2012-01-04T22:00:00.003-07:00

I have five books to tell you all about (lucky for you, I won't tell you about them all now.) Five books can be months and months of reading. For many nights I have tucked myself into bed and read 'til the pages blur from tired eyes. This can take anywhere from five to twelve minutes.

Having a good book at night is essential to my happiness for it helps end the day without worry. I put my cares away and dive into the jaws of whatever I happen to fancy. Basically, I shut the brain off and go into entertainment-land.

Traditionally, I have finished a book and typed up a real nice book report on this here blog. I do this so that I'll remember what I've read. I also do this because it's like my very own book club – only there's no time commitment and/or constraints, and I get to be the designated windbag. You know what I mean by that, right? Book clubs are scary (or so I've heard) because there's always that someone who participates just so they can go on-and-on (and on) about some inner (boring) deep meaning, deciphered by the hand of their quick wits and the lyrics of a Todd Rungren album.

Uh-oh. I'm feeling some history here. In high school, the weirdos I hung out with had somehow established that it was hip and edgy to be known as "deep" or "deep thinking." We'd discuss important stuff like philosophy (for teens) and why Aldous Huxley should rule the (under) world. We'd also talk some about preserving our mother nature, which usually involved climbing a tree, doing something illegal, then climbing back down.

We were so cool... but we were so dumb. It's crystal clear now. I mean philosophy for teens? Is there a paradox more hysterical? And that gaffer Huxley can't rule the world 'cause he's dead – was dead even way back then. But dude... what about the doors of perception... man... you gotta open them... ... ... Now insert more trailing phrases that make no point and mean nothing and you'll get the idea.

Hehehehe. That's my blog! The more things change, like, the more things, like change just a little bit, and then like, they come full circle and change in the other direction, and then, like, fall from the tree, and like the next thing you know, you're an apple all morphed up with the faces of both yer parents.

Anyway. I have five books to report. They are (in the order I read 'em):

The Life of Pie – Yann Martel
The Partly Cloudy Patriot – Sarah Vowell
A Romance on Three Legs – Katie Hafner
(A Hundred pages of) Hundred Years of Solitude – Gabriel García Márquez
Drinking: A Love Story – Caroline Knapp

I read The Life of Pie somewhere around a while ago. I figured that since I finished Drinking just yesterday, it's still all fresh 'n stuff, so I better do it first. Then I figure I'll finish up the book reports in any order I choose. You okay with that? Good. Here we go.

Drinking: A Love Story
by Caroline Knapp

Drinking is another dandy that Megan threw at me. For reals. She flew into town for Christmas and I picked her up at the airport. She jumped in the car, threw this book at me and said, "Read it." Or something like that. For the record, Megan can throw any book at me, any time. Just as long as it's not one of those heirloom hundred-pound Bibles. That would hurt.

Drinking is Caroline Knapp's sobriety memoir. In vivid technicolor detail, she describes how she went from a casual drinker to a full-fledged alcoholic who was drinking every day, and in secret – even had booze stashed behind the toilets and whatnot at the homes of family and friends. She would obsess and live her day as if the whole point was to get drunk.

Ms. Knapp is what she calls a "high functioning alcoholic." She was a writer for a magazine who made it to work every day, paid her bills, and managed to accomplish all of that other life stuff. Even though she was "high functioning," every relationship in her life was a mess. Mom, her two boyfriends (who didn't know about each other), dad, friends, drinking friends – you name it, there was friction because of her drinking. The irony, however, is she couldn't handle being with any of them unless she was drinking.

After a bunch of years (I forget exactly how many), Caroline Knapp decides she's had enough and ends her love affair with The Drink. So she checks herself into rehab, makes the commitment to quit for good, and writes this book. I believe she was sober three years when the book was written.

Here's what I found most interesting: Knapp discovers the difference between casual drinkers and alcoholics. She discovers that alcoholics drink to avoid life, and specifically, to avoid any pain associated with life. Alcoholics choose to drink in lieu of facing their many life choices, mistakes, sorrows, and moments of cozy good. They are uncomfortable in their own skin and drink to avoid feeling themselves in that skin.

Ultimately, she realizes that while she's chasing three bottles of wine with a pint of cognac, she's robbing her life of progress. Every time she sideswipes the looking of life right between the eyes by getting drunk, she's stunting her individual growth.

I had never seen or heard addiction explained this way. I found it rather eye opening. Parts of life include pain. And pain usually makes one grow stronger. I suppose it's best just to deal with the pain so as to recover and grow strong. Kinda like when weight lifters bench press and stuff like that.

I'm not a drinker now. I'm a full-fledged abstainer. However, I have this personality that does not stop. Once I start something, be it study, or spending money, or (hullo!) running, I cannot stop. Therefore it would be in my life-growth's best interest to remain an abstainer.

p.s. Megan said to "pass the book on." Anyone care to read it next?

Olympic Hopeful: Desiree Davila

2011-12-31T13:00:00.001-07:00

I've been a complete slacker with this Olympic Hopeful business. Not too long ago, I promised to showcase a bunch of the Olympic Qualifiers for the upcoming Olympic Trial Marathon in Houston. Since establishing this outlandish undertaking, I've produced exactly two (Paul Peterson and Ryan Hall.) Two. That's some pitiful performance and proof positive that I'm no Olympic Hopeful.

I think it's because I'm anti-commital lately. I cannot commit to anything. The tax season starts on Monday, which brings forth ocean-sized buckets of commitment. Therefore, I've resolved to do what I want, when I want, and refuse to decide that whatever event today at 4:30 falls in that what-I-want-when-I-want category. I'LL DECIDE IF I WANNA DO THAT WHEN 4:30 ROLLS AROUND, KAY? Geez. Get off my back, will ya. Grin.

So what does this have to do with Desiree Davila? Nothing! Let's move on, shall we?

All-American ASU graduate Desiree Davila is best known for her spectacular performance in last year's Boston Marathon. While the press and general populace were eying sweethearts Kara Goucher and Blake Russell, Desiree Davila swept in and stole the USA show. Davila's plan was to hang with the elite pack for 20 miles, and, if it felt right, kick it into full gear for the final 6 (point two.) And kick it in she did. Davila finished second with a 2:22:38, just four seconds behind Kenya's Sharon Cherop. FOUR SECONDS. This is huge. An American hasn't won the Boston Marathon in years – please hold while I check exactly how many years. The last female American woman to win the Boston was 1985 when Colorado resident Lisa Rainsberger finished in 2:34:6.

An American woman hasn't won the Boston in 26 years, and Desiree Davila was so close to winning, (I presume) that she could taste it. That was a spectacular race. If you watch one Marathon finish ever, last year's Boston would be the one to watch.

Desiree is a member of the Hansons-Brooks Project, which is a team of elites selected, coached, and groomed into Olympic readiness. You can follow her blog by going here.

This Desiree Davila is something special, I can feel it, and it's not because her name is an alliteration (all folks with alliterations for names hold a dedicatory spot in my heart.) Davila just might be the next Deana Kastor (who currently holds the American marathon record with a 2:20, who, incidentally, also holds a dedicatory spot in my heart... hell, all distance runners hold a dedicatory spot in my heart.)

Here's to running. And the Olympic Trials. And alliterations. And Desiree Davila.

Paradigm Shift

2011-12-30T17:00:00.004-07:00

Today's topic of discussion is as mundane as it gets: Laundry.

Although laundry is, without a doubt, the most cumbersome and monotonous of household chores, it occupies a significant amount of time and therefore deserves its very own essay. 'Sides... it allows for several opportunities to use paradigm in a sentence.

During the olden days, and even today in some parts of the world, the laundry paradigm was a social event. All of the lady-folk from all of the villages would gather at the river to drag fabric along rocks. I presume they laughed, and complained, and solved a few problems, and criticized Sally when she wasn't there because of her helicopter-like parenting. I suppose in the olden days, and in some circumstances today, laundry might have been something to look forward to: an event; a gathering; a civic cattle-call; even a relief.

Take Mikey's laundry paradigm for example. Mikey's my dad and has made laundry a "thing" for the last 33 years. That many years ago, Mikey found himself a new bachelor in a house without a washer and dryer. He decided to visit the local laundry mat so as to accommodate his laundry needs. I presume the laundry mat ritual was a temporary arrangement. He discovered, however, that his weekly laundry mat be-in was something of a joy.

I've been to this laundry mat be-in with Mikey a few times. Besides the need for quarters and the task of packing-it-up, the laundry mat is an extremely efficient use of time.* Mikey would sort by color and throw each load into a washer. While the wash was whirling – for somewhere around 40 minutes – he'd read a magazine, or watch some sports, or organize stuff. He would relax. When the 40 minutes were up, he'd move each of those loads into a dryer. While drying, he'd go back to magazine-reading, sports-watching, and stuff-organizing. He would relax some more. When the dryers stopped, usually one at a time, he'd fold and hang.

The whole process was two hours, tops.

Compare 'n contrast Mikey's paradigm to my laundry process and you'll see a whole lot of wasted time. It's not two hours, tops. It can be a whole day. A whole day without the relaxation of magazine-reading, or sport-watching, or acute-organizing. And when that day is over, the laundry baskets are half full again.

A few weeks ago, just before shifting my laundry paradigm, I'd have what we women call Laundry Day. One day each weak, from before sun-up to well after sun-down, and maybe into the next day, I'd wash. The machines would run all day. All day. The reason for the all day thing is so we can "get it all done," and so that the rest of the week could be free of laundry. The trouble, though, is there's no such thing as getting laundry "all done," and the rest of the week was never free of laundry.

You're seeing why I needed that paradigm shift, right? Right! 'Cept I didn't go all the way over to the laundry mat paradigm. My new laundry paradigm is – get this – one, maybe two loads, every day, in the morning. I throw in a batch before I run, I return from the run and throw it in the dryer. Maybe rinse 'n repeat while doing breakfast and piano practice. Laundry is over 'n done by 9:00am.

It's totally changed my world. Hence the need for all those sentences with a paradigm in 'em.

Speaking of a world totally gone changed, you should see me play Apocalypse Please on my new piano. It's horribly awesome!

Have Yerselfs a Mairy Christmas

2011-12-24T07:00:00.004-07:00

And if you been nice (er even the right kinda naughty), I'll fix you up with one of our gen-you-ine Redneck Binoculars.

Carol of the Bells - Tuesday Tune, vol 104

2011-12-20T23:00:00.003-07:00

Today's Tuesday Tune is 1460 swear words in the making, in as many days. It's also one of those tunes that many might refer to as a "banner moment" or "the light at the end of the tunnel" or even "the day that Rabid never thought would come."

Carol of the Bells is a Ukrainian Christmas carol based on local Ukrainian folklore. As the story goes, a swallow would fly into a house and proclaim bounty and blessings to all. I suppose the tune is meant to mimic that of swallows flitting and flying about.

This Carol of the Bells tune is an altogether fitting arrangement for Yahoo and my's first duet. Mostly because I feel like that same pesky swallow. Except for swooping in and proclaiming bounty and blessings, I swoop in a holler "GET IN THERE AND PRACTICE THE PIANO!"

An Untraditional Christmas - Tuesday Tune, vol 103

2011-12-13T21:00:00.000-07:00

I've been around for a lotta Christmases, which means I've heard a lotta Christmas music. Mostly, I've heard the same 18 (give or take) songs over and over and over. And over. And over. And over. And over. And frankly, I'm rather tired of those 18 songs.

I've had enough Jingle Bells in a Winter Wonderland, Good King Weceslas resting on ye Merry Gentlemen, Rudolph's Red Nose Watching Mommy Kiss Santa, and Halls that are Decked. Please, I say, Bring that Torch to Jeanette so she'll quit Isabella-ing, and Baby I KNOW that it's cold outside. I have a thermometer.

Before you holler Hah-Bumhug at me or shout sacrilege, note that I do enjoy these over and well-done Christmas greats. It's just, well, there's a lotta creative people in this world and I think that we need more originals. That's why today's Tuesday Tunes are all about Christmas tunes that are not among the traditional 18 (give or take.)

So here you go. I'd also like to provide a giant "shout out" to Vera's friend Mr. Reese, who, by 'n large has the greatest music collection in the United States (give or take.) Many of these nontraditionals were brought to my attention by this Mr. Reese.

Merry Christmas you Suckers Roger Twiggy
Oi to the World No Doubt
You're a Mean One Mr. Grinch The Hit Crew
Best Kind of Friend Christabel & the Jons
Soul Cake Sting
Clean Up For Christmas Aimee Mann
That Was the Worst Christmas Ever! Sufjan Stevens
The Christmas Waltz She & Him
Christmas Smorgasbord Swedish Chef
Mary's Boy Child Trailer Trash
Everyone's A Kid at Christmas Time Stevie Wonder
Snowed in with You Over the Rhine
Christmas Song Dave Matthews & Tim Reynolds
Boots The Killers
It Snowed Meaghan Smith
Your Holiday Song Indigo Girls
The Heart of Christmas Matthew West
Our December Thriving Ivory
When A Child Is Born The Moody Blues
Why Can't It Be Christmastime All Year Rosie Thomas
Christmas Lights Coldplay
Snowflakes Jeremy Fisher
Mistletoe and HollyFrank Sinatra
Mr. & Mrs. Santa Clause George Jones & Tammy Wynette
Christmastime Smashing Pumpkins
Fairytale in New York The Pogues
Merry Christmas Eve Better Than Ezra
Christmastime Aimee Mann & Michael Penn
Christmas Day Dido
Do They Know Its Christmas Band Aid (1984)
The Chipmunk Song The Chipmunks
'Zat You, Santa Claus? Louis Armstrong
Christmas Vacation Theme National Lampoons
Wish List Neon Trees
A Very Special Acoustic Christmas Alison Krauss
Papa Noel Brenda Lee
Star Of Wonder Tori Amos
Cinnamon & Chocolate Butterfly Boucher
Christmas The Who
Christmas is Going to the Dogs the eels
Old Toy Trains Joe Nichols
Happy ChristM.A.S.S. M.A.S.S.
Christmas for Two Sixpense None the Richer
Holidays Silver Swans
Mistletoe Colbie Callat
I won't Let You Lick My Candy Bar Susan Kay
The Christmas Queen Miss Piggy
Christmas In New Orleans Louis Armstrong
A Snowflake Fell (And It Felt Like a Kiss) Glasvegas
The Dear Aquaintance (A Happy new Year) Regina Spektor
Holiday Road Lindsay Buckingham
River Sarah McLachlan
Very Merry Christmas Dave Barnes
Candy Cane Christmas Darius Rucker
Christmas This Year (feat. Leigh Nash) TobyMac & Leigh Nash
Christmas Wish She & Him
32 Feet And 8 Little Tails Gene Autry
Another Christmas Song Stephen Colbert
Don't Need A Reindeer The Moody Blues
Better Do It Right Smash Mouth
Darlin' (Christmas Is Coming) Over the Rhine

Do you have a favorite nontraditional? Please, do share. The more the merrier.

Amazon on the Internet

2011-12-07T12:00:00.011-07:00

Amazon is my BFF. Oh how Amazon is my BFF. I'm going to contact the copyright people in charge of that Twelve Days of Christmas tune, and ask that "Partridge in a Peartree" be changed to "Amazon on the Internet." That way, the beloved phrase "Amazon on the Internet" can be repeated twelve (or is it thirteen?) delicious times.

Partridge in a Peartree? So not useful. Amazon? Useful. And Amazon Prime? Eee gads.

This was Christmas 2009. Lookie how Amazon even does the wrapping.

Isn't that beautiful? Brings tears of joy just looking at it.

Here's a closeup of their fabulous wrap jobs.

Also note that I have blurred the addresses so you freaks cannot figure out where I live.

How on earth did we handle Christmas without Amazon? Tune in next time when I tell you about how UPS is my other BFF (HELLO BROWN! You can do LOTS for me!) Without UPS, Amazon is just as useful as a Partridge in a Peartree.

Lunacy - Tuesday Tune, vol 102

2011-11-29T14:00:00.007-07:00

For many lunar moons now, I've positioned Mr. Ludwig van Beethoven atop my list of favorite all-time composers. There are many reasons for this. First, Beethoven is a tweener. He was born at the tail-end of the Classical period, and subsequently paved a golden-brick-road for the up-and-uproarious Romantic era. He wasn't Classical. And he wasn't Romantic. This made Beethoven in between periods and thus a tweener.

I, too, am a tweener because I feel as if I'm perpetually in between classifications of all types and walks. I like Beethoven bunches because we're both tweeners. But that's not all. I dig his tunes Major and Minor. Beethoven's masterpieces have a dark quality – one that teeters the edge of implosion. This speaks to me, for I too have some dark qualities (like eyes 'n hair 'n humor.) I also teeter the edge of implosion. (Why do you think I run? I'm preventing a teetering implosion.)

Mozart is too happy (this ain't kindergarten), Strauss too waltzy (unless you're Andre Rieu), Bach too rigid (imply: predictable), Chopin too amorous (makes me blush), and Liszt (with his fifteen-inch phalanges) has too many notes. But Beethoven? Beethoven speaks to me. Beethoven knows my language. Beethoven knows how I feel.

(For the record, I adore all of the above mentioned composers. They just aren't as Bad A as Beethoven.)

This weekend I watched a movie about Beethoven and discovered yet another reason for my prolonged attraction. Beethoven was bat-shit crazy. Nuts, I say, nuts. Prone to manic episodes of dramatic highs 'n lows.

Dearest, beloved Luie? I'm bat-shit crazy too! Cheers.

Being as I'm happy to admit that I'm crazy in the likes of Beethoven-bat-shit-crazy, today's Tuesday Tunes are about lunacy. And remember, don't waste your weary-time over the self-proclaimed crazy, waste your weary-time on people who think they're sane.

The Lunatics (Have Taken Over The Asylum) The Fun Boy Three
I'm Going Slightly Mad Queen

I Almost Lost My Mind Pinetop Perkins
Crazy On You Blitzen Trapper
Mental Eels
Your Head's Too Big The Ditty Bops
Hyper Chondriac Music Muse
Can't Get You Out Of My Head Kylie Minogue
Paranoid Megadeth
Where Is My Mind? Pixies
Mad World Tears for Fears
Paranoiattack The Faint
Cold Brains Beck
Suspicious Minds Fine Young Cannibals
Do-Wacka-Do Roger Miller
Shine On You Crazy Diamond (Parts I-V) Pink Floyd
Shine On You Crazy Diamond (Parts VI-IX) Pink Floyd
In My Head No Doubt
Got A Lot On My Head The Cars
Could've Gone Mad Poe
Crazy Tori Amos
All In My Mind Love and Rockets
Manic Monday The Bangles
Partizan / Drives Me Crazy Partizan
Crazy Seal (... we're never gonna survive unless we get a little crazy... )
It's All In Your Mind Beck
Let's Get Crazy White Lion
Map Of Your Head Muse
City Of Delusion Muse
Brain Damage Pink Floyd
Church Of The Poison Mind Culture Club
Crazy James
Manic Depression Jimi Hendrix

Just got bored with the copy 'n paste. Want more? Holler.

Crazy On You Heart
My Mind Is Ramblin The Black Keys
I'll Go Crazy If I Don't Go Crazy Tonight U2
Mad Season Matchbox Twenty
Psycho Theme The Ghost Doctors
Paranoid Eyes Pink Floyd
Always On My Mind Elvis Presley
Lost in My Mind The Head and the Heart
You Nearly Lose Your Mind Leon Redbone
You Call It Madness Nat King Cole
Lunatic Fringe Red Rider
I'm Mad Willie Mabon
Trigger Happy Jack (Drive By a Go-Go) Poe
Sir Psycho Sexy Red Hot Chili Peppers
Madder Red Yeasayer
Out Of My Mind Duran Duran
Psycho Therapy The Ramones
Crazy For You Madonna
Leave You Far Behind Lunatic Calm
We're All Mad Here Tom Waits
Crazy Patsy Cline
Space Dementia Muse
Crazy Ones John Mellencamp
You're Crazy Guns N' Roses
Blow Your Mind Langhorne Slim
Teenage Lobotomy The Ramones
MindKilla Gang Gang Dance
I'm Deranged (Edit) David Bowie
I Wanna Go Crazy (Featuring Will.I.Am) [Explicit] David Guetta - Will.I.Am
Rambling On My Mind Robert Johnson
Troubled Mind Kula Shaker
I Think I'm Paranoid Garbage

Luie just might roll over in his grave after listening to the playlist I put together in his honor.

Thank You For The Music – Tuesday Tune, vol 101

2011-11-22T20:00:00.000-07:00

Um. It's Thanksgiving-time. I really don't understand Thanksgiving. I mean, I understand the part about Abraham Lincoln declaring it a national day of thanksgiving, but I don't really understand the need to overdo the food preparation and consumption.

My favorite Thanksgiving ever was the one Spouse and I spent eating vedge in Pune, Maharashtra (India.) That was my favorite (even rode a camel!) Since, I get all sorts of weepy around Thanksgiving because I want to go back. Badly. Somehow the addition of a cranberry chutney to the traditionally stuffed bird doesn't do the trick.

While I don't understand the mass quantities of food and the stuffer-fest, I do understand the part about spending time with family and the part about being thankful. That's why today's Tuesday Tunes are all about being Thankful.

I'm thankful for many things. But guess what's in the top five of my all-time thankful faves? Music. That's why today's Tuesday Tune is:

Thank You For The Music - ABBA

And some others:

Gratitude - Oingo Boingo
Thank You - Led Zeppelin
Saving Grace (Theme) - Everlast
Thank the Lord for the Night Time - Neil Diamond
Gratitude - Paul Cardall
Thank You For Letting Me Be Myself Again - Sly & The Family Stone
Messiah, HWV 56 - But Thanks Be To God - Handel
Thank You - Tori Amos
Thank God I'm a Country Boy - John Denver
Gratitude - Earth Wind & Fire
Full Of Grace - Sarah McLachlan
Thank You - The Pipettes
Thanks A Lot - Johnny Cash
Grace - U2
Amazing Grace - Cat Power and Dirty Delta Blues
Thanks for Nothing - Danton Eeprom
(Not really a gratitude song, but it's kickin' and says "thank" in the title)
Thank You - Alanis Morissette
State Of Grace - Seal
I Thank You - ZZ Top
Gratitude - Mika
Thank You - Dido

For the record, WE HAVE SNOW (!), which means the Thanksgiving Boycott will be in full swing this year.

Breaking Ground

2011-11-18T10:00:00.014-07:00

I just watched a clip from that new Twilight treat (um, yeah, you caught the sarcasm in the use of that word treat.) Honestly, I cannot take any more of this Twilight stuff. It is so cheesy – and not the good kind of cheesy like the Carpenters. (For the record, The Carpenters are still my favorite kind of cheese.)

I saw the first movie and couldn't cope with the discomfort. It made me so uncomfortable. Like, remember in high school? When you were at a rowdy party and stumbled into the wrong room only to see the wrong stuff? Then you closed the door and felt icky, 'cause, like the lighting is so not right? And they're just kids?! Yes, that's the discomfort I'm talking about.

I read the books and they were okay at best. The movies? NOT OKAY. Far from okay. (But that's just my opinion, you can dig them from here until all infinity and I'd still call you friend – but only if you had other interests.)

The clip I watched just now had some redeeming qualities, however. The uber funny Ellen had a supporting role. Watch it, then come back to me.

What did you think? Ellen is funny, yes? But Belle and Edwardo? Discomfort! Belle says, "How many days since the Wedding?!" followed by "I'm late!" and he behaves like a know-nuthin'-bout-the-birds-n-bees doofus. Give me a break Edward, you've been stuck at 19 for a hundred years, obviously you know what she's talking about.

Duh.

Many years ago, I decided I wouldn't see any more Twilight movies because of the discomfort.

This morning during the run, one of the girls mentioned that she had been invited last minute to see the movie. (Not at midnight, she had to clarify that she wouldn't go at midnight else she'd miss the morning run at 5:30.)

This friend – you might know her around here as the Olympic Hopedful from this post and this other post – affirmed the above mentioned accusations.

"How was it?" said we. (Where "it" refers to Breaking Dawn, and Part I no less.)

"Bad" said she. (Means Part II will prolly be worse than bad.)

"What about the Cullen house? Was the house in it?" said me.

"Oh! There was lots of the house!" said she. (We both have a mad crush on that house.)

"Well then, maybe I'll see it for the house. That house does something to me. Forget about Jacob without a shirt. Show me the house."

So, I guess I'll see the movie. But only when it comes out on video so that I can fast-forward through all of the icky Edward-and-Bella-constipated-and-staring parts. Come to think of it, why doesn't someone just come up with a Breaking Ground movie, and build a Cullen replica? Now there's something I'd go see at midnight.

Intervals are Fun!

2011-11-14T18:00:00.003-07:00

When I'm out running, I sometimes do this thing called intervals.

Intervals? What are intervals? I'll tell ya what are intervals. Intervals are that one thing... where you run (bike, ski, slobber) faster for a designated distance or a designated time, then follow that surge with a recovery of some designated distance or time.

For example, tomorrow's plan calls for 8 to 10 intervals of one minute with a one minute recovery. This is that one thing... where you run fast for a minute, jog for a minute, then rinse 'n repeat, like, 8 to 10 times. On another occasion, one might run intervals of 400 meters with 200 meters recovery, or even 400 meters with one minute of recovery. Alternatively, one could do that one thing... where you run four minutes then recover for 100 meters. There are many surge/distance/time/recovery/distance/time options. (Four to be precise.)

This can be tedious. For one must watch the watch to count minutes, or find a track or other marked territory. Now that it is dark all of the time, it's beyond tedious because the watch cannot be seen easily. (Unless you're a bat or vampire, in which case you prolly have rabies, which means you are rabid and I'm jealous.)

Well folks, that tedium is no longer, for the Rabid has discovered the "interval" feature on her fancy Garmin 305, which, I'm embarrassed to admit has been owned for, like, three years. That's three years of tedious intervals that needn't be tedious – if only I would have read the darn manual.

Today is your lucky day because I've taken the time and... uh-hem... know-how to provide you with a tutorial. This way, no matter what your intervalling action – run, bike, walk, climb, beat-the-kids, or nookie – you'll have the proper tools.

Step 1: Click the Mode button. Scroll down to "Training" and select enter.

Step 2: Scroll down to "Workouts" and select enter.

Step 3: Scroll down to "Interval" and select enter.

Step 4: View the many options. All four of them. Figure out which options you plan to use.

Step 5: Scroll down to your option and select the one you want. For this exercise, I chose "Time/Rest Time" 'cause that's what I'm doing tomorrow.

Step 6: Chose your options (time or distance for each interval and the number of "reps.") When the options are chosen, select "done" and you're ready to roll.

The watch will sort of "yell" at you with a fancy beeping when it's time to switch-up your interval. Run/bike/walk/climb/beat/nookie your first interval until you hear the fancy beep. Perform your recovery run/bike/walk/climb/beat/nookie until you hear yet another fancy beep. Rinse 'n repeat x amount of times, where x is a number of your choosing.

See? Intervals are Fun!

On the Bench

2011-11-10T22:00:00.005-07:00

Each Tuesday, the Yahoos and I drive to the metropolis of Salt Lake City for piano lessons. Their teachers live in an area called Millcreek. Millcreek is on the bench.

The Salt Lake Valley is made into a giant bowl by it's surrounding mountains. The Wasatch mountains border the east and the Oquirrhs create a smaller wall to the west. The gradual incline of these mountains allow for neighborhoods and whatnot to establish themselves in a stadium-like fashion. When one refers to the benches of this valley, they're talking about the stuff that climbs the base of the mountains. Millcreek is on the east and sits 500 or so feet above the valley floor.

Millcreek is on the bench.

(Incidentally, if I were a Salt Lake liver, I'd choose the Millcreek area for my liver spot. It's near a canyon, has a terrific view, is close to Park City, and near perfect. Near. It's still a little too populated for my liking.)

Whenever we make our way to the Millcreek bench for lessons, I always look down at the Salt Lake Valley and smile. When I'm able to take a step back from Salt Lake, or any city, whether it's on a bench or an airplane, I always smile. I smile at cities. I see thousands (or millions) of people working together in some way. I see organization. I see progress. I see manners. I see beauty. I see art. I see a civilization made from many decades of cooperation and hard work. This is what I see when I'm on the bench.

When I'm not on the bench, or, in other words, when I'm not able to step back from a city, I see icky politics. I see litter. I see buildings that are either too small or too big. I see dick-head driving. I see overcrowded schools. I see hunger. I see a government that spends too much money, and in the wrong places. I see construction that won't end. I see drugs and violence. I see people who have no place to sleep. Basically, when I'm not on the bench, I see what needs improvement; I see a too-much-to-do-and-no-one's-making-progress dimple of doom.

Being a parent is similar. When you're smack-dab in the middle of the chaos, and not on the bench, all you see is a giant cluster. This needs work; that needs attention; this needs more love; that needs more discipline; this needs more push; that needs some pull–but only a little bit of pull–oh wait, that was too much pull! The parental adjustments are never-ending.

I have this – uh-hem – "friend." She's a real piece of work, I tell you, a mess because she won't let things be a mess. This "friend" just cannot get up on the bench. She's always in the middle with a fiddle. Criticizing how she did this and worrying about how she did that. She even uses that "F" word – "failure" in conjunction with, "I'm a." Like, often. Sometimes I feel like pulling that girl aside and screaming a Beatle-esque "Let it be...! Bitch...!" (Or maybe an "Everybody's Got Something to Hide Except Me and My Monkey....! Bitch...!")

For example, this – uh-hem – "friend" really enjoys music, comes from a family of musicians (although she herself is not a musician,) and has a couple of boys who play the piano. This "friend" unearthed the country-side in a frenzied search for the perfect teachers; left few stones unturned. When at last the perfect teachers were found, she spent countless hours practicing with her two boys – correcting and adjusting, fidgiting and criticizing.

The perfect teachers need a perfect practice. This will lead to the perfect lesson. That was her thinking.

As you can imagine, because, like, duh – you're out there on the bench – things got frustrating for all parties involved. Practice-makes-perfect was making everyone pissy. It all came to a head when my "friend" was in the Millcreek area last week at her boys' lesson. (And isn't it weird how this friend and I both go to piano lesson on the Millcreek bench?! Crazy weird!)

At lessons this last Tuesday (yeah, this "friend" also has lessons on Tuesdays, crazy weird again!) my "friend" was forced to get on the bench. The coach even said so, "YOU! Friend of Rabid! On the bench!"

See, all this correcting and criticizing, and the making of things perfect wasn't helping; it was enabling. Those boys were relying on their mom to correct every last mistake and had therefore lost their own ability to course-correct. Someone was always there to do their thinking for them. In some ways their progress was going backwards.

Parenting requires that we walk a fine line – a line that separates guiding and encouraging from enabling. We all try to guide and help and provide resources. We all try to make sure that our kids do everything "right." One day, we might discover that we aren't guiding anymore and that we are doing it all for them. It happens slowly and maybe we won't see it happen. Hopefully, before it's not too late, we might discover the enablement and make some adjustments.

This discovery of guidance-gone-awry happened to my "friend." She sat there in lessons, right in the middle, and not on the bench, thinking she was working hard and working smart, only to discover that her efforts were hindering, not helping.

So what does this "friend" do? After she discovers that she's right in the middle enabling, and needs to get on the bench? She jumps back in the middle again, and facilitates the ritual of adjusting and worrying. This is wrong, that is bad, this needs help, blah, blah, blah, in ad nauseum.

If only this "friend" could step back and put herself on the bench, she would see progress. And organization. And manners. And hard work. Basically, she'd see that everything is just fine.

So get on the bench...! And let it be...! Bitch...!

Happy Trails - Tuesday Tune, vol 100

2011-11-08T12:00:00.001-07:00

For the Tuesday Tune, in its hundredth running, I was hoping to do something special. I racked both my brains and all of itunes for some help with the 100th Tuesday Tune. Received nothing. Throwing you all a few songs with "100" or "hundred" in the title was just too easy.

In my short life – eleven years shy of a half century – I've learned that the more you force something (like ideas, creativity, or Spouse) the less you get. I decided to lay low on the Tuesday Tune until an idea of centurion quality slapped me silly.

That happened today. My friend Tina posted it on Facebook. Today, November 8th 2011, election day*, would be the 100th birthday of the one and only Roy Rogers. And that's why the 100th Tuesday Tune is:

Happy Trails – Roy Rogers

So there you go. Happy Trails to you! And remember "It's the way you ride the trail that counts" and "Just sing a song [to] bring the sunny weather."

*FYI, we've already had a Tuesday Tune about voting. Click there if you're interested. And you might be interested because it displays my formula for voting.

Happy Halloween!

2011-10-31T07:00:00.000-06:00

Remember now, "Stupid is as stupid does."

I look just like my dad. That's scary, creepy and wicked right there.