Do Or Do Not (It Wasn’t A Tri)

Ah, the coveted sixty-fourth percentile. Let me be frank: I was neither properly prepared, nor properly trained for Sunday morning’s race. Heck, I wasn’t even properly rested. I’ll chalk some of it to the length of the event (a 2.1M run, 10M ride,...

Sweet Carolina (Or, Living In The Fish-Eyed Lens)

I’ve heard about this sort of thing, but rarely really witnessed it first-hand. I’m at a bar called Brother Jimmy’s on 31st & Lex. Apparently, Murray Hill is the new post-collegiate neighborhood because everyone looks straight out of Central...

2009 Miami Marathon (Or, Pull The Sunlight Through Me)

The last time I was on Miami’s Brickell Avenue Bridge, it was midnight. Hurricane Katrina was lashing the city with crushing wind and stinging rain. Nonetheless, my Video Music Award colleagues and I thought it a lark to stand defiantly mid-span, leaning into...

Rookie Mistake

I was never much with a shotgun growing up. Not that I had a ton of exposure to firearms, but they were around. My father’s family, most of whom still live in Waterloo, Iowa, frequently spent weekends hunting pheasant, duck, rabbit and deer. Invariably,...