Getting on the Treadmill

The home stretch.  Start up that Chariots of Fire song.  Well... in six months.

Much like that photo you see below with Otis and his mangled toe crossing the finish line of the Mastodon Weekend half-marathon and the slightly less-blooded foot of yours truly about 30 seconds behind in the orange circle, my time for running is coming to a close end.

No, not the new/old fitness craze that infected more than a few of my fellow degenerate friends, as that form of motion has been moved indoors for the duration of the winter as Minnesota tends to get cold during the time between Santa Claus and leprechaun visits.  Taking 20 minutes to prepare for a run by grabbing three insulated forms of Gore-Tex while staving off hypothermia and frostbite do not excite me.  Instead, thanks to a generous co-worker, I have taken up running on a treadmill for the first time. My humble observation is that the human hamster wheel feels much like having sex with a condom on.  If you’re doing it right you still get sweaty but you miss the extra sensations that outdoor running (and sex?) provides.  At least it will keep me in decent shape to start up again since this summer finishing a marathon seems like a fun thing to do.

Gibbs Rule #29:  Don't Suck (image credit)

Freed up time for training will come after finishing seven classes for my bachelor’s degree and a small bit of time for a celebration worthy of something that has taken over my life and thoughts for the past three and a half years.  At a stop light between Highway 169 and County Road 30 at 5:45am, before sitting down for a rare NCIS marathon with my wife, looking out towards the dimly lit backyard from my porch after a long night of reporting, all spots that usually bring a quick tear to my eye while thinking about a handshake and a piece of paper that will soon come into my possession. 

The dream was supposed to die after hopping on a plane from Sky Harbor airport to MSP.  The dream was supposed to die after getting knocked in the head and becoming an anti-social hermit for eight years.  But, after several drunken and sober fireside chats at the trailer cabin and a leap of faith with my finances six months separate me from that degree and that handshake that is so vivid in those daydreams. 

There is no end however.  The degree is not the end-of-the-road and time to kick up my feet on the L-shaped couch and start up yet another Gibbs versus the system viewing party or drink myself under that same piece of furniture.  Instead it’s just another piece of a second chance on life and making the most of it with self, my family, and my friends.  Definitely will not miss the strict APA formatting, late nights of researching dead philosopher’s thoughts on internet porn, or saying the words “daddy is busy with school right now”, those will pass into the same memories of 2am feedings of kids that are now in 1^st and 4^th grade.  Tough times that add to one’s exterior for the next challenge and one after that.  Much like running a 5K, then 10K, then a half-marathon, and with luck and hopefully no bloody appendages, 26.2 miles in around four hours 30 minutes.

A side note for Felicia…  I looked through 2005 and couldn’t find my deaf notepad, sorry.  But, I did manage to slide out of the house for some poker this past week at Canterbury Downs.  A little over two hours and ZERO drinks later my small entry fee was given to someone else after finishing 7/40 when the big blind woke up with a hand better than mine.  THE NERVES!

Warrior Dash 2011

The night prior was spent in leisure.  Sitting along the third base line on an overhung piece of concrete in folded chairs cheering on the embattled 2011 version of the Minnesota Twins.  The night was perfect, short breeze coming in from right field, with a full view of the Minneapolis skyline and Graves 601 hotel sign peaking just aside from a neon pole that announced the latest hometown batter to step to the plate.  The game was uneventful as my brother-in-law the Tigers fan got the first, second, and last laugh as the home team tanked losing 8-2 while several $8.00 Captain and Cokes washed away any care for the game.

A solid buzz gathered as the three couples made their way back to suburbia despite pleas for extending the night at a local strip club.  But, without a unanimous decision, the only titties that would be in view were our spouses before slipping into their nightly sleeping arrangements.  As the clock rolled past midnight and a solid effort by the nighttime Perkins crew with their above par bacon and ham omelet with three buttermilk pancakes, a brief rest was needed as three of us would be waking up in five hours for a race unlike any we have completed together.

The "before" picture (no idea about the hats I just follow along)

The Warrior Dash awaited our crew of my sister and father in law, my beautiful bride, and that tall thing you see on the left.  After getting married the four of us have gone on countless bike rides and 5Ks/10Ks, it is something that I found refreshing when introduced to this healthier side of athletic competition as my friends were more inclined to play a volleyball tournament in the back of bar that offered 3 for 1s and waitresses rarely kept track of how many drinks to charge you for.  But, today was different as the drive from my father in law's place in Robbinsdale took us through the once proud North Minneapolis neighborhood which now resembles the crumbles of gang/drug violence, so bad that even charities have packed up and left.  Signs of recent tornado damage accentuated the peeling paint, cracked and neglicted wood, and blacked-out store-fronts that a decent chicken dinner could have been purchased with a biscuit on the side for $4.99 but no more.

After getting out of the city, it was on to Afton Alps.  A popular, small skiing destination that was last visited 16 years old by a college student, his girlfriend, and my future brother in law with my girlfriend's friend packed into a mutlicolored 85' Nova hatchback (all parties over six foot tall) but it ran and got great gas mileage!  Ok, its was a piece of shit but skiing for the first time was an adventure after getting lost in the middle of the slopes and "walking" back to the chalet an hour after they had their feets up by the fire. 

Forward to today our goal was this:

Not pictured the three feet of mud below the sign

The goal was one hour, but changed to around 45 minutes after watching someone come flying down the final descent in 24 minutes.  Not that I could even run seven minute miles on a flat track but it seemed plausible despite zero training and a decent rum induced hangover.

The race started with about 500 of us packed at the gate with flame roaring above the sign.  The few yards was cake, and then around the corner was the pain.  A slope that I remembered being quite easy to come down with pieces of fiberglass and several feet of snow beneath my feet, was about to kick my untrained ass trying to climb.  About half way up I joined the rest of the sheep, some dressed in nothing but loincloths, others with names across their back proclaiming a wedding party (which actually is a pretty kick-ass idea), and some ladies that obviously had trained were showing their tight superhero underroos (I found a liking to Superwoman).  

After the first climb we were met by cars and a tire run to climb across and immediately met by several snow makers blowing cold water full speed like a sideways downpour.  Felt good but blinded and now carrying several hundred pounds of extra water weight, the view after regaining my sight was exhausting.  Three hills were in view as seen by those with much more superior skills already tackling their heights and valleys. Another obstacle, this one of five foot barriers to climb then a barbed wire fence to duck (repeat X 5).  Finally a pacer appeared as she was moving along the same speed.  Wearing "I Heart to Fart" granny panties from Spencer's and a well-shaped black bodysuit she would become my rhythm that would hopefully help me reach the 45 minute goal.

After another climb and a twenty foot cargo net wall to climb, there was a large tent ahead.  The race official proclaimed "FREE WOODTICKS INSIDE!" yeah thanks dude.  Asshole.  A tiara wearing princess yelled "NO FARTING!" which was great advice and spared my life as the tent was complete absent of any light and much to my forehead's dismay, there were boards set up to keep you body close to the ground as opposed to crawling through this void.  Once on the other side, a breather was taken on the side as my pacer bounced away for the moment. 

A rally for air came and thanks to some unknown upper-body strength, the rope climb over the wall was cake as the big red heart was visable again.  Through a maze of marshy mud, the final climb had a reward at its peak.  A huge waterslide with separated lanes to slide down and a refreshing spritz before the last downhill run.  Only two things separated my beaten up body and the final line with a table full of bananas and water.  Bricks of fire were stoked as each runner lept over the flames before jumping into a three foot deep/ten yards long pool of mud that required crawling as a barbed wire fence hung above the pool

 Fire! Fire! Fire! /Beavis

Once properly caked in mud it was just a few more feet to the volunteers handing out medals for all finisher, a token of completing the course and do something a little nutty for a change.  My time was a shade under 48 minutes, I blame the temptress and her fine ass for not pacing us appropriately, but nonetheless the experience was one that will be repeated next year with a little preparation in mind (and yes, booze will involved). 

Why yes, I would like a beer right after I rinse off 10 pounds of mud

Speaking of booze, by turning in the time chip, a free Shock Top await your hand (or Mich Golden Light if you like such things) along with tasty meats for purchase as modeled by my lovely wife below:

 She likes legs, I prefer the breasts

Onward back to a shuttle which was NOT equipped for people that have stilts for legs, but the aisle provided enough room to doze for the five minute, bumpy ride back while snacking on sunflower seeds.  Warrior Dash you have four repeat customers awaiting your return to the Twin Cities.

(* all photos taken by my sister in law)

Battle of the Blogger Tournament: El Cinco Edition

Gotta be in it to win it.

Skip over to Poker From the Rail or Al's place on the internets for the details.

WSOP Seats Now Available

After staying at till 3:30am this morning with another glorious crash-and-burn before the final table in a $2 rebuy ($2K to the winner, I got $34 and a headache worthy of two bottles worth of Excedrin for 29th place), my attendance will hinge on being awake for the 6pm CST start time.

Especially after doing a 5K run at 9am this morning at Midway Stadium:  Home of the St. Paul Saints that does not allow people to do the Wave nor can you wear a necktie (true statement, disclosure found at the front gate).  Perfect weather outside, made even better today with only a breeze passing through.  The "Running of the Pigs" (as of 2:00pm Sunday the stats/photos were not out yet but I finished in 30:25 which included me walking almost a dozen times) started out with the son and daughter units doing a quick half-mile run.  It wasn't a competitive run with medals but we try to get the kids to finish as fast their little legs can carry themselves.  Instead we were treated to Kyra giving up half-way through and watching Wyatt run backwards while doing some sort of parade princess waving to the crowd despite being in last place.

Now, time for that nap as Pavano just got tagged for a few runs as I envy the folks enjoying the game and beautiful weather at Target Field.

All Lined Up For Bloat

Glad someone enjoyed that 55-0 wash out at the Dome on Saturday. In related news... people from Iowa have sex with humans?

Interesting the things you learn reading newspapers or carnal education absorbed in Section 202 of the Metrodome.

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Update: This is +20 points of awesomeness. Well played KSK.



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With the holidays now one day in front of us, who's happy and they know it?

Blah seems to be the popular word and normally after an epil fail attempt to get back on the multi-tabling online poker horse there would be whining about this and that. Well, this and that can promptly taking a flying leap into a Pantera mosh pit with a Billy Ray Cyrus t-shirt on. After powering down to a four buy in loss on the night (one buy in saved thanks to Daddy nudging me for an 18 person SnG), there was no numbness, I could still feel the cards and chips rain in the opposite direction and while the burning desire to play some poker was sedated rather quickly after watching the various coolers and beats, there was a shrug versus finding the nearest inanimate object to discuss loudly the level -23 play by the obscure European football team icon.

Nope. Just power down, thank the RNG for a dry ass tapping last seen on Big Brother's uncensored webcam and go to bed thankful for what I have versus what could have been.

That's the difference between me now, and me even last year. While the love of poker and card goodness is always there, I now just regulate those "beats" into entertainment that didn't work out, much like 25 piece Adam and Eve Super Sex-Kit I bought the wife and promptly threw out and is probably being used in various parts of Minneapolis at this moment.

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Tomorrow's Schedule:

7am - 10am:

Run around downtown Minneapolis for the 5K Turkey Day Run sponsored by LifeTime Fitness. Fall down without alcoholic assistance, get laughed at by wife as she finishes five minutes ahead of me. Receive goody bag, over value the stale sweet bread and ill-fitting T-shirt like a firstborn. I still love these jogs despite being horrible at it.

10am - 2pm:

First food, first blood, brunch at parent's house, followed by nap time after too many mimosas, bacon, bacon in egg bake, bacon on toast, bacon on bacon, and bacon with sticky rolls.

2pm - 6pm:

Undisclosed area for turkey dinner with football viewing and discussing life questions like "why do some guys feel its ok to chat mid-stream?". Would you like to hold it too, I'm sure you do its pretty fun. Main reason why I just find a damn stall and peacefully fire without discussing the awesome tuna melt Steve's wife made him for lunch

6pm - ????:

5th Annual Turkey Day Beer Pong tournament. Approximately 10-14 teams of two show up. I will photograph myself wearing a champions jacket and possibly post it as well. As a former champion (and looking to become the first two-time champ with my teammate and brother-in-law) there will be pressure to perform, thus many servings of beer may be needed to pull off a victory against more practiced, much younger college kids. GET OFF MY LAWN!!

4am next morning - ?????:

Watch my kids + niece and nephew with hangover while wife tears up Black Friday, look for nearest Ginsu knife to perform perfect can-cutting self-extraction of pain receptors.

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Spend often. See you on the other side.