Eighteen (More) Reasons To Love Her
I figure it takes a special kind of someone to wake up at 5:30 on a perfectly good Saturday morning, lace up the Asics, and run around the city for three hours. The really special someone, though, is the teammate who runs it with you.
Yup, that was Abbi and me this weekend.
Increasingly bored with endless loops around Central Park, I was itching to get off the island. I studied Google Maps and Map My Run, and drafted a suitably ambitious foray into Brooklyn. Not too far into Brooklyn, mind you; my intended course to and around ...
The Thrill Of Victory (And The Agony Of Defeat)
Listen, I'm the guy who tears up during Gatorade commercials. Still, I gotta' say, I don't remember ever being moved by the Olympics.
Until now.
Sure, that the opening ceremonies were lip-synched and CGI-enhanced is weird, telling, and a bummer. And that NBC's coverage is chocked-full of hyped-drama, political softballs and integrated marketing.
Still, it doesn't matter what I know of a specific event (usually very little); watching these athletes compete bearing in mind that they've trained their entire lives for just a few moments ...
The Brickyard 400 (Or, My Days Of Thunder)
This is it: The Fall of Rome.
And this is how it goes: blue sky, 85 degrees, 300,000 people, 42 modified stock cars hurtling around a two and a half mile track at 170 mile per hour, and lots and lots of beer.
This is the Allstate 400 at the Brickyard, aka The Brickyard 400.
It's Death Race, Gladiator, and The Running Man. The MPHs and RPMs are impressive, but we're here for the five-car pile up: crushed steel, shattered plastic, frayed rubber.
We hatched the plan at my bachelor party. Ten months later, here we care: high school ...
Stars & Stripes & Brothers In Arms
I'm not sure which was sweeter music to my ears: the sound of the random competitor's last gasp as I passed him mere yards from the finish line, or my brother saying after the race, "Damn dude, you crushed me."
Manhattan Island Foundation races are sweet little affairs, which is part of what I love about them. The field of competitors tend towards the hundreds, not thousands (like my beloved New York Road Runner's club, with which I have run 1124.9 miles in some 109 races). Races are often well off the beaten path, places like Battery ...
The Morning Fog May Chill The Air, I Don’t Care
As I've said before, my favorite part about travel is running in a new town. This morning, that town was San Francisco. In fact, a good run had more than a little bit to do with my being here.
My primary raison d'etre for this sojourn was the Y-Pulse Mash Up, a conference for teen/tween-centric media and marketing types. It was great (as conferences go) if you're into things like, say, incentivizing user generated content (which I am). And the oatmeal raisin cookies were top notch.
But I won't front: I wanted to spend a few days in ...
Hy-Vee Triathlon: 365 Days And Counting…
The sun was just breaking the horizon as "The National Anthem" began blaring from a shoddy PA. Nearly two thousand of us stared solemnly across the water when a short, wide rainbow materializing like a Technicolor ghost before us.
That we were swimming at all was, of course, a major accomplishment for organizers. Flooding had left the swim leg in contention until just days prior. But there we were -- age-group triathletes, fans and volunteers -- mustering at the start.
Mine was the third wave, so there was little time to get nervous. ...
Hy-Vee Triathlon: 14 Days And Counting…
When I applied for the coveted Hy-Vee Triathlon Des Moines Register Blogger gig, I described myself as a "reluctant weekend warrior."
Warrior might be a bit of a stretch. I'm more knave than night, more corporal than general.
But it is fairly apparent that the bulk of my distance training occurs on weekends.
Here's a breakdown of the last seven days.
Sunday, June 1: Skipped my intended run on account of the fact that the Universal Studios fire was billowing smoke downwind; precisely where I'd run the entire week I was in LA. ...
A Swift Kick In The, Um, Butt
I tend to wedge my training in between a whole bunch of activities, lately: post-production on a documentary, mixing a new album (due on Des Moines' own Authentic Records June 18!), a career that's turned alarmingly demanding, domestic duties, and an iota of a social life. Still, I do pretty well getting everything in on five hours of sleep and, on a good day, coffee, a Balance bar, and a decent dinner.
This week, though, it all came crashing down. The dark, small hours of Wednesday night found me in the fetal position, crawling from the ...
George Washington, Rufus Scott & Me
Few vistas afford the sweeping panorama of New York City like the George Washington Bridge.
The Bridge was opened for traffic on October 24, 1931. It spans some 4,760 feet from the sites of Fort Washington (on the New York side) and Fort Lee (in New Jersey), fortified positions used by General Washington and his American forces in his unsuccessful attempt to deter the British occupation of New York City during the American Revolutionary War. The bridge's great shadow marks the route by which Washington and his troops fled the British in ...
My Perfect Storm Of Poor Planning (Or Hubris)
Four miles on four hours of sleep is not an ideal training scenario.
These days find me in the center of a perfect storm of poor planning (or hubris).
I'm in putting the finishing touches on my forthcoming CD, "The Invention of Everything Else," due June 18th on Des Moines' own Authentic Records. I'm still tracking vocals and mixing before shipping off to Nadas' bassist (and Sonic Factory Studios engineer, Jon Locker) for mixing. Then comes mastering, replication, and marketing -- to say nothing of putting together release parties and ...
