Get A Move On

That was one of the phrases that came out of my mouth this morning as I ran around Briones Reservoir alone. Apparently the ranchers have moved their cattle to the reservoir as they felt that there wasn't enough cow dung along the path to fertilize all of the thorns and briars.

It was pouring rain this morning and yet I went out. I hadn't run all week due to work being a little more crazy than usual. Remind me to tell you what it is like working with a team that consists of the client and four different consulting firms. Lots o' fun.

The rain didn't bother me too much as it was a warm rain (50s). The hills bothered me a little and I just decided to relax and go slow. The mud really bothered me. The clumpiness factor on a scale of 1 to 10 was a solid 7. The only solution was to run through the grass, which of course has thorns. Fun stuff.

At about mile 7, I started noticing many piles of fresh cow crap. I wish I had had my camera as there is nothing quite like clumpy mud, fresh cow poo, and rain. I guess it was kind of like running in diarrhea.

About half a mile after noticing the diarrhea mud, I encountered my first herd. Probably 30 or 40 cows. No bulls. However, there were about 10 calves. Remembering the lessons learned from Grandma F's ranch back in the day, I knew that just trying to run by them wouldn't work. I had to scare them off. It was at this point that I started shouting, "Yeaaawwwww! Get a move on! Yeaaawwww!" and waving my arms. I almost took off my hat, but due to the rain, I decided against it. Also, I was looking ridiculous enough. Adding a waving white running hat would have been too much.

The cows moved aside and as I ran by, they all mooed at me. I was a little tired at this point, so I didn't moo back, but believe me, next time I see that herd, we're gonna have us a moo-down. About a mile later, another herd. Only this one had about 60 cows and one bull. Fortunately, the bull decided that I was pretty scary and just took off. I hope the cows remember how he wussed out against a skinny pale white guy dodging cow patties.

I thought I was done with the cows, but at the top of a ridge about two miles later, I encountered a very large herd. Probably a 100 or so cows. The problem with these cows was that they were on the trail and there was nowhere for them to go. Both sides of the trail were just too steep. So here I go with my arms waving and my "Yeeeaaaawwwww!! Get a MOVE ON!!" routine and the only place they can go is right down the trail. We did this for about a half mile before the ridge flattened out and they were able to bolt to the side. Seriously, there needs to be a camera crew following me around when I run. I was herding cows. It was somewhat ridiculous, but at least they didn't slow me down.

It reminded me of when I begged a cowboy at Grandma F's ranch to let me ride a horse when I was seven or eight and he said he'd get a horse ready, but only if I chased all of the cows in another field down a path to another field. Sure, I said just wanting to ride a horse. So he saddled up a horse for me and off I went to the field to chase cows. The problem is that I had no idea how to chase them in an organized fashion so that they would all go down the path. I spent about 30 minutes chasing individual cows across the field before the cowboy came riding up to me on his horse asking me what the hell I was doing. I of course told him I was chasing cows. He spit, told me to go back to the barn and then proceeded to chase the herd down the path to the other field in less than ten minutes.

As you can tell, I remembered that lesson today. All the cows went where I directed them. That cowboy would have been so proud.

The Fast and Furious

That's our team name.

Where to start? I'm not sure, as I'm still on a little bit of a high from the whole event. This is definitely going to be a stream of consciousness post.

It was nuts. I'm still sore and it is Wednesday. Here's the setup:

- 12 person team (6 women, 6 men)
- 188 miles from Wickenburg to Scottsdale
- Two cars, six people in each car
- The first six runners are in the first car and once they finish running, they go somewhere and take a break for 4 or 5 hours while the next car with the next six runners does their thing. Repeat 3 times for a total of 36 legs that were between 3 and 8 miles.

My first leg was around 3:30pm. It was 6 miles, with the first 3 being a gradual uphill. I was too anxious and tight the whole time being amped up for the race, but I did decently and averaged 6:51 miles.

After our team finished the first six legs, we went to a high school, which was where the next major exchange was and ate and relaxed. I paid $5 to take a cold shower and use a wrestling mat to lie down on. Cold shower. Not happy. Oh, did I tell you that my main source of food was Diet Dr. Pepper and Ruffles Masterpiece BBQ chips? I also ate some good salami and cheese.

My next leg was at 1:30am and was almost 7 miles along a gentle downhill the whole way. I felt great, especially because it was nice and cool and I averaged 6:33 miles. I was pretty impressed with myself until I stopped and felt my hamstrings tighten up immediately. They are still tight by the way. I felt even less impressed with myself when a guy came in about 5 minutes after me having averaged 5:42 miles. Wow, that's smokin'.

After we finished our second leg, we went to a member of our team's house and relaxed. Notice, no sleep. We layed down and relaxed. No shower this time.

My last leg was at 8:30am. It is considered the hardest leg out of the 36 legs of the entire race. Only 5.5 miles, but the first 3 are uphill and the last 1/3 of a mile there was a 300 foot elevation gain. It was brutal. Hot and no sleep made me completely exhausted. It was out in the middle of the desert, which was pretty, but i was totally dead. I ended up averaging 8:00 miles.

I was just glad to run as early as I did. It was only in the high 70s when I ran. The rest of my teammates had to run in temperatures that reached 93. Ouch and ouch.

One of my favorite legs that I didn't run was Richard's second leg. Dirt roads at midnight through what appeared to be a very posh neighborhood. I'm sure all of the people loved hearing the roar of the Escalade as it powered over some of those hills. The funny part is that might be the first time that that particular Escalade has ever been on dirt. I think I also enjoyed it because Richard has some power and overtook some people as we went through some slow rollers (hills).

Overall, it was totally fun. I ended up riding the bike with Julie Ann, Lisa, and Melanie while they ran, which was nice and relaxing. I would do it again in a heartbeat. Everyone did great. Out of 73 total teams, we finished 27th. In our division (Mixed), we finished 9th out of 31, averaging 8:32 miles.

Here's a link to some pics. Unfortunately Richard, our fearless team captain, was also our photographer, which means there are not any pics of him, primarily because I'm a slacker. Actually, his leg was right before mine and because I was busy skipping, warming up, and getting myself psyched to kick some butt, I forgot all about pics. Such is the mindset of the insane runner.

The moral of the story is that running two times within an 8 hour period, including the middle of the night, just isn't that tough. Running 3 times in a 16 hour period, with only about 90 minutes of quasi-sleep is very difficult. The clincher is that there really isn't a good way to train for that.

Next year, we will decorate our vehicles and maybe even have a more clever team name. Any theme ideas?

Oh, I forgot to tell you, my middle leg is the hardest. And, "Who's that coming down our chute? It's Amy! It's Amy!"

Thank you to our volunteers mom, Erin, and Kevin, as well as to Chris and Anne for seting up our living quarters.

My Legs

Not my actual legs, but the legs I'll be running this weekend at the Ragnar Del Sol Relay.

Quads

You've heard me complain about my hamstrings. You've heard me complain about my ITBs. You might have even heard me whine about my arches. What you've not heard is any complaints about my quads. You see, long distance runners don't really hammer their quads like they do to their hamstrings. Quads are a sprinting muscle. The only time distance runners seriously use them is when they are going downhill. Well to my surprise, my quads have been sore for a week.

Last Tuesday I did my usual track workout (5 x 1600s). Wednesday I was fine. Thursday morning I woke up and my quads were sore. This was surprising, but it wasn't painful, just sore, so I ignored it. However, the soreness has continued. It's a little baffling. I went faster than normal last Tuesday (about 30 seconds per mile faster - 6:30s) in anticipation of Richard yelling at me to run faster for our relay this weekend, but it didn't hurt at all. I've run a 1/2 marathon doing 6:30s the whole way and I wasn't sore afterward. I haven't run any massive downhills lately.

The only thing I can think of is that my shoes have broken down a little earlier than normal. They have 480 miles on them right now. Usually I retire a pair of shoes at 500 miles, even though I know they probably have another 100 miles or so in them. I just do it to avoid injury. However, the only other time I've run in shoes for too long and felt the pain, the pain was in my foot and calf, not my quads. It's puzzling.

The other thing is maybe I'm just getting old. I thought I had another 5 or so fast running years left in me, but maybe I was wrong. Or maybe I'll still be able to run fairly quickly, but will be made to pay a price. I really am not looking forward to the breaking down of my body. Maybe I need to look into the whole Barry Bonds regimen. So I live to 85 instead of 100. Not that big a deal.

Nicknames

I've been called many things over the years, most of them I will not print due to sensitive eyes (Who am I kidding, I just don't want both of you to start asking for Miggidy Mixmaster Mike (Triple M) when you call and Liz picks it up, which would then lead to her asking me to put on her blue sequin blouse and spin my Kenny G records). However, I've learned over the past year in consulting how clients view consultants. Clients. Not those affected by the work that consultants do. Huge difference there. How clients view me has led to an interesting nicknaming phenomenon.

My two favorites are:

- The Quiet Tornado

and

- The Sledgehammer

Mo, Compel Me

During break time when I should be buying another 20oz Diet Coke or perhaps just stretching my cramped hamstrings, I instead have taken to commenting on this blog. Mo, you posting about politics has got to be the single worst thing you have ever done to me. And you have done some pretty terrible things to me. We won't discuss those things. Will we. Ever.

Gravy

I'm a decent cook. Actually, I don't cook very many things, but those things that I do make, I make better than average. You see, I've discovered the secret to food that tastes good. It's called fat. My main ingredients are butter, cream, chicken fat, and whole milk. Although I'd much rather use cream than whole milk, as whole milk just isn't fatty enough.

Well, Liz has recently discovered that I have perfected my gravy and now desires it above all other things. All. Other. Things. The sounds that emanated from her yesterday made me a little jealous. I kept telling myself that at least I was the indirect cause of so much ecstasy. After 30 minutes of ooohing and aaahhing, I decided that it was little consolation. I might make her wait a month for the next batch.

Briones

The five of us training for the SLC Marathon, plus three others, went for a 20 miler on Saturday. We met in Orinda, ran 3 miles to Briones Reservoir, ran the 14 miles around it, then ran the 3 miles back. You'll notice a sudden drop in elevation right before mile 16 and that my total mileage on my watch was only 18. Both were due to me forgetting to turn my watch back on as I was waiting for some other runners to catch up.

The run was inspiring, as any run that has the climbs that this run has should. I think that going forward I am going to incorporate two 20 mile hill runs into my training schedule. The current schedule has five 20s and two 22s, but it is all on flat ground. I have a feeling that having two of my 20s be on runs like this can only help.

Last

I've noticed that oftentimes I am the last person to comment on a particular blog entry, usually after I've commented about something I feel strongly about. I've come to the realization that this phenomenon occurs because I am right. Oh, you could say it's because I'm a troll and others don't want to feed the troll. You could also say that most people really just don't care what I say. And finally, someone could say that I'm often late to the party and others have moved on to newer blog pastures, but I know the truth and deep down, so do you.

PTC is on the money. Don't forget it.

Market Research

Apparently I don't know my audience very well. Maybe I should put some of my marketing knowledge to work here.

Market Potential - about 2 billion

Current Market Share - .0000000000000000000000095%

Market Concentration - we'll go with geographical concentration - primarily a 15 square mile area in the East Valley with a few outliers

Market Demand - almost 0

Elasticity of Demand - well, since this is a free site, we can't really measure it, but let's assume that my content is so good that it's about .2

Here's where it gets fun:

Market Segment - if you simply looked at my posts, you would assume that I am targeting runners and readers (although really, who am I kidding, my real target audience is myself)

However, if we measure how well my content is received by the number of comments that each particular post receives, we can plainly see that my content needs to change if I want to drive up my readership.

Popular culture appears the way to go. Running, gone. Reading, gone. The Lottery, stays. WoW, not sure yet. 8.5 million current subscribers can't be all wrong. Stay tuned for my next post about the Anna Nicole mystery, to be followed by my post on Tom Cruise's bizarre love triangle that involves a donkey.

This change in strategy should increase my comments, drive up my earnings, and give me an overall boost in self-esteem. I probably should have caught on to this trend a long time ago, but you know me, I'm a little stubborn, prone to delusions of my own self-importance, and basically not too bright. Thank you all for this revelation. I didn't even need to fast to receive it. It would have helped if someone had told me this 25 months ago when I started this thing. I could have been living off of this site by now.

$370 Million

That's a lot of clams. Every news site has a headline on it. The radio personalities keep talking about what they would do with that much money. I'll admit, I'm not immune. That much money would be very nice and I can imagine many things I would do with it, not all of them frivolous. However, when it all comes down to it and as has been said by many others, "The lottery is a tax on the stupid." If you're going to gamble, play something with a little bit better odds, like craps or poker or insider trading. Not that I am encouraging gambling.

Guilty Pleasure

Not every book I read is about history, war, politics, and economics. I do have my guilty pleasures. Stephen King's Dark Tower Series is one of those. I had read books 1 through 4 many years ago and at Christmas, when I received a Barnes & Noble gift card, I decided not to add to my non-fiction library, but to add to my science fiction library and bought the last three books of the Dark Tower. I started reading Wolves of the Calla two days ago and am now about half way through it. I'm not going to summarize it because if you haven't read books 1 through 4, you'd be completely lost. It's a very good read. The series is unlike most of King's writing. When I read book 1, The Gunslinger, I was immediately hooked. There's a broad theme of showing humanity how tiny we really are that resonates with me. That and all of the gun play of course. Although if you start at book 1, know that it is the slowest of the books in terms of action. When King wrote it originally as a short story, I'm not sure he meant for it to become what it has become.

Clarification

Some have asked about moving your VO2max. Technically you cannot move your VO2max. It is determined solely by genetics. The purpose of the VO2max workouts is to be able to run at your VO2max for long periods of time. What you are moving is your current ability to transport oxygen to your heart. Let's say my VO2max is 100. However, today, my current ability to transport oxygen to my heart is 70. What the VO2max workouts do is allow me to achieve my ceiling (my VO2max). However, everyone's ceiling is different. If my ceiling is 100, Lance Armstrong's drug-free ceiling is 300. With drugs, it's probably 350. I kid. I kid.

I'd Forgotten

What a workout this is. I was home early yesterday and because my training partner begged off of our morning run due to injury, I decided to not wake up at 4:30am and to run after work with the little guy. Well, he's not as little as he was seven months ago. I would have thought that my recent speed and hill training would have given me a boost, but apparently either Zane gained 25 pounds or I am weaker than I was when I was training for Tahoe.

Yes, yesterday was a tough 8 miles. Of course Zane fell asleep about 1 1/2 miles into it and woke up about two blocks from our house. He missed the two giant hills, one of which left me feeling like I was about to vomit. He missed his dad sprinting at the end barely able to breathe so that he could make his goal of averaging under 8 minute miles, which I did, but it took a 7:20 last mile to do it. He did not miss opening the garage door when we arrived home though. Pushing the "button" is his favorite thing to do. I'm sure our neighbors love how many times a day the garage door opens and closes and opens again, particularly because it needs some oil.

Interval Training

Aside from long runs at goal pace, the key to running fast for long periods of time is long interval training. Long intervals combine VO2max and Anaerobic Threshold or Lactate Threshold training. A long interval is a distance of 800m to 1600m. However, my personal feeling based upon experience is that intervals of 800m only really contribute to helping your VO2max, while intervals of 1600m contribute to increasing both your VO2max and anaerobic threshold.

For those that did not click on the links. VO2max is your maximum capacity to transport and utilize oxygen. Your lactate threshold is the point at which lactate begins to accumulate in your blood stream faster than it can be metabolized. Exercising at a greater rate than your lactate threshold means that you are exercising without oxygen (going anaerobic) and will tire faster than if you were exercising at below your lactate threshold. Fortunately, doing specific workouts can increase your maximum oxygen capacity, as well as push your lactate threshold back (to a point pre-determined by your genetic make-up).

My long interval workout is as follows. Once a week I go to the track (in NY, I did my long interval workouts on a treadmill). One week I will do 800m intervals. The following week I will do 1600m intervals. Today was an 800m day. One mile warmup, then right into the first 800m interval. You typically want to run each of your intervals at exactly the same pace. I'm training with someone whose Boston Qualifying time is 3:30 and according to Yasso, our intervals should be 3:30 each. Read the article. Apparently there is a correlation between running 10 800m repeats in terms of minutes and seconds that tells you how fast you will run a marathon in hours and minutes with the same numbers. Again, read the article. For me and many others, this has proven itself time and time again.

When I qualified for Boston, I was running my 800m intervals in 3:10 and my 1600m intervals in 6:20. Later this year, when I go for a sub-3 hour marathon, I will be running my 800m intervals in 3:00 and my 1600m intervals in 6:00. Yea, that'll be fun.

So back to this morning's workout. We're not up to 10 800s yet. This week, we only did eight. After each 800m interval, we slow down to about 1 minute slower than marathon pace (9 minute mile) and do this for 1/2 a lap (200m). Once we hit the 200m mark, we go right into our next 800m interval. Every fourth 800m, we slow down to 1 minute slower than marathon pace for a full lap (400m). Once finished, we cool down with a very slow 1 mile jog. And you're done. Today, our times were 3:28, 3:29, 3:31, 3:32, 3:29, 3:29, 3:33, and 3:22. The last 200m of our last interval we just sprinted for kicks. Hey, we felt good. The keys are consistent speeds and not slowing down too much during your rests. You need to train your body to experience the peaks and valleys of the marathon gruel. This includes brief periods of recovering by slowing down, but not jogging or walking. If you cannot do 8 or 10 intervals in this fashion yet, then I'd recommend to start off with 3 or 4 and to slowly build up until you can do 8 or 10. It's better to do less right than to do more incorrectly.

1600m intervals are similar, but significantly harder. Same total distance. Next week, we will do 5 1600m intervals at 7:00 pace. Between each 1600m interval give yourself a full lap (400m) of running 1 minute slower than marathon pace. Every 4th interval, give yourself two full laps (800m) of running at 1 minute slower than marathon pace. 1600m are more difficult because of the need to sustain this speed for a longer period of time, but they are also more beneficial because not only do they increase your VO2max, but due to the distance, they increase your lactate threshold. Again, aside from the long training run that incorporates marathon pace, there is no other workout that will help you as much as 1600m repeats.

I typically start my speed work 14 weeks before a race beginning with 5 800m intervals and 3 1600m intervals increasing the number of intervals each week until I am at 12 800m intervals and 7 1600m intervals. My last 1600m interval workout is 3 weeks before the race. Two weeks before the race, I do 800m intervals and 1 week before the race I do 400m intervals just to keep the leg turnover going and not to wear out my legs.

Hope this makes sense. If you have any questions, let me know. Next week, I'll talk about the tempo run, which is the more traditional form of lactate threshold training.

Azeroth

As I've made my way through Azeroth, I've come to the startling realization that there are more active members of World of Warcraft (8 million) than there are active members of my church globally. WoW has more active members than any religion's total number of active and inactive members in the United States except for the top four. And WoW players don't even knock on doors. I feel an entirely improper anecdote that I could share in fast and testimony meeting, minus the fasting, coming on.

Sometimes

My cheapness creates interesting situations. Some might even call them awkward. I've been at a client site in the South Bay for a few weeks. That means I am able to drive, rather than BART to work. It's nice because I get to listen to KNBR, a sports radio station. However, I only get to listen to it from the front left speakers in my car. You see, I am driving our Brooklynized green 1997 Toyota Corolla and all of the other speakers have blown.

I will post a picture of it one day, but most of you have already seen it. First of all, it's green. Second, there is a large dent on the front left side from the kids playing stickball on the street in our last Brooklyn apartment. Third, there is a large key mark that starts from one side of the car goes around the back of the car and then back up the other side of the car from when Liz and her friend 'stole' an angry white man's parking spot at the Macy's in downtown Brooklyn and he decided that keying our piece of HUD was the appropriate response. Fourth, the right headlight is out. And fifth, on the hood of this car, in large keyed out letters, is the F-word from when we went apple picking in New Jersey. NEW F*%#!+@ JERSEY!!! Anyways, this car is a piece of work. But it is a paid off piece of work that gets almost 30 mpg. Buy a new car? No way. I'm driving this thing into the ground and then Zane is going to drive it to high school.

Well, last night, the team at this client decided to go out to dinner in the city, which is about a 45 minute drive. A principal at my firm (that's the highest level) who is from out of town asked me to pick him up from his hotel and drive him to the restaurant. I swallowed my pride and said sure, I'd be happy to give him a ride in The Green Hornet. He laughed and I said, no, I'm serious, it's The Green Hornet. He then just looked at me funny and I just smiled.

When I was about five minutes away from his hotel, I called him and told him I was close and to look for the green Corolla with one headlight. I'm sure he was very impressed. He mentioned on the way back that he had ridden with an analyst once who did a fantastic job on a project, but who also had a beater of a car. He said that the only feedback he had for this person once the project was complete was to get a new car. I can only hope he has the same feedback for me.

And yes, I've probably written about my car before. Redundancy strikes again.

Warning!

Scroll down only if you'd like to see the roof rat that was killed in our garage last week. Hey, at least I didn't need to chase it around in my garage with a shovel like Tom Tolbert.

Two Months Early

Apparently I should have looked more closely at the race links I posted earlier. The Salt Lake City Marathon is not in the first week of June, as it was last year. It is on April 21st. That's less than 14 weeks away. As I'd only been averaging about 20 miles a week, that means that I need to quickly kick up the mileage and do so while not injuring myself, which as both of you know, is a tough task. My foam roller will help, but I'm not sure if it can accomplish what cortisone shots and physical therapy could not. Keep the ITB pain away during serious marathon training. We'll see.

The good thing is that SLC is not my goal marathon, but my warmup marathon. I'd be happy with a sub 3:20 and will probably run a 3:15. The fun part about this training schedule is that I have a running buddy that is pretty close to me in terms of how fast he is. We're running together Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday mornings. Monday, Wednesday, and Fridays are easy days of 4 to 6 miles.

Tuesday mornings = speed workout. We're rotating 800m and 1600m repeats at 45 to 50 seconds faster than goal marathon pace, which for him is about 7:50. We had our first speed workout this past Tuesday at 5am at the local track. It was 29 degrees, which sucked at first, but was nice once we finished our warmup and was great when we were on our 5th 800, which we did in 3:30. Nothing popped and everything felt good. Next week, we'll drop the time by another 10 seconds or so. We'll peak at doing twelve 800s and seven 1600s. Those should be pretty interesting days. Maybe I'll work from home.

Thursdays = Hills or Tempo workout. We're rotating an 8 mile trail run in the hills, again at 5am with our headlamps with a tempo run, which for the non-runners is a run where the middle 60% of your run, you run it at your 10k pace, which for my friend is about 7:15 pace. Our first run is tomorrow and we're starting with the hills. At 5am. I don't think I'm going to be able to give up caffeine for this training cycle. I do need to stay awake during most of work.

Saturdays = Long workout. Notice that I didn't say long and slow. I don't believe in running slow. To run fast, you gotta run fast. Our schedule includes three 20 milers and two 22 milers. For the first four weeks, our long runs will be 75% at a nice easy pace and 25% at goal marathon pace. The next seven weeks, we'll run 50% easy and 50% at goal marathon pace. Then of course is the taper.

WoW continues to progress slowly, although I haven't played for the past couple of days. My main character, Vlabba is at Level 15, but if I focus tonight, I think I can get him up to 16. The other day I meandered into contested territory the other day and was quickly felled by some dude riding a dragon that shot a lightning bolt at me. I told you that I hate The Horde, right? Well, at least Vlabba does. I haven't told Liz yet about the role playing aspect of this game and the dwarf costume I must buy. It's pretty tough.

Racing Schedule

- Ragnar del Sol Relay I'm the third leg.

- St. George Triathlon Although it appears to be sold out at the moment. Ben and Josh, you need to help me out here.

- Salt Lake City Marathon A training run for me where I'll likely be the pacer for a group that will be trying to BQ at a later marathon.

- St. George Marathon This is where I will attempt what is for me my ultimate marathoning goal, a sub-3 hour marathon.

I'll probably have some 10ks and half-marathons thrown in for good measure. Some of the people here in the Bay area want me to run some crazy trail runs, but I'm not sold yet.

What does your racing schedule look like?

Score The Quiz

As expected, I am a conservative-leaning libertarian. No shock there. Take this quiz to find out where your political philosophy lies and with which candidates that philosophy aligns with.

On a more serious note, my Dwarf Paladin Vlabba is progressing nicely. This two handed mace thing is absolutely destructive. I'm on the Hakaar server in case in of you other nerds want to go on a raid sometime.

If I Was Ever In A War,

I'd want Leeroy on my team 'cause he ain't no chicken. Yes, I've finally given in to my darker impulses. I was a Blizzard gamer for many years. Warcraft, Warcraft 2, Diablo, Starcraft, Diablo 2, and Warcraft 3. However, about five years ago, I made the switch to console gaming. The Dreamcast and the Xbox were my friends. The past year, with my Xbox broken and not having the time to play that would justify buying an Xbox 360, I've had to rely solely on my Sony PSP, which is cool, but it's a BART only type of game system.

Well, I've finally given in. A friend of mine is an artist at Blizzard for World of Warcraft. I signed up for my Free 10 Day Trial (yes, that's a hint) and now I am hooked. Oh, by the way, that Leeroy Jenkins clip at the top contains profanity, so be advised if you'd rather not hear that. Maybe I should have put that warning up top. Oh, well.

Both the Leeroy clip and this South Park WoW clip are fairly well known, but something tells me that most of my loyal readers have lives and have probably not heard of World of Warcraft before. Enjoy. Let me know when you'll be joining the online sensation (over 7.5 million players) and want to play. I'm currently a level 12 Night Elf Rogue in the Uldaman realm. I'm questing baby, questing.

Oh, and don't worry about this taking time away from Zane or Liz. Liz is an Undead Mage and Zane is a Troll Hunter. I just taught him how to chop a boar in half with his axe. I was so proud.

Expanding

I don't have much of a passion for candy. Ice cream, yes. Cheesecake, yes. Candy bars, hard candies, suckers, no. However, last year I was introduced to these and I must say that I was smitten. The good thing is that they are limited edition, which means that finding them in stores is tough. The bad thing is that when you do find them, you buy every last bag on the shelf. Such an occasion occurred last week and I have now eaten two bags in about 9 days. I'm not counting calories at this point. I'm counting notches on the belt.

What My Family Doesn't Know

Is that I make the best menudo on the planet. Tripe, calf's foot, hominy, and three kinds of chiles. Don't tell grandma though. I'd like to remain on her good side.

It's up to us kids to take the recipes that have been handed down to us and to improve them. Some might not think that possible, but trust me, it can be done. Witness the drunkin turkey, the spanish rice, and now the menudo. However, nobody will ever make a better deep fried cheeseburger than my father.

Interview

I interviewed a Berkeley MBA student the other day. Very bright, we're going to hire him, yadda yadda yadda. The important thing is that he introduced me to Dreyer's Slow Churned ice cream. Apparently he did an internship at Dreyer's over the summer and found out all about slow churned. He gave me the science behind the product. Once he said that you could taste more fat, I was in. The slow churning keeps the fat molecules separate from the rest of the mix, which means that instead of a bunch of very well mixed molecules, you're tasting big giant separate molecules. As an ice cream addict, I had to try it.

I'm now just about done with the first gallon of mint 'n chip. It is magnificent. Whatever Dreyer's has done, they done it right. Even though it has 1/2 the fat/calories, it's not watery and it tastes better than the regular full fat premium ice cream. Yes, this is good news.

On a separate note, I kicked Skyline Ridge's butt yesterday at 5:45am in a downpour. I came in 3rd out of 6 and I'm not sore today. I will become a trail runner yet.

The Dim Bulb

I am not sure what it is about me that says, "Hey, remember last week when you almost crapped your pants running due to the pain? That was fun. Let's do it again tomorrow."

Skyline Ridge

I agreed to meet a friend and his friends for a 10 mile trail run this past Saturday at 5:45am. What that meant is that I actually woke up at 4:45am in order to eat and then drive to the trailhead. To run. 10 miles. Up a mountain. Challenging my intellect at this point is acceptable.

We ended up going to Moraga (the Eastern side of the Oakland Hills). I could tell I was in trouble when A) I couldn't see the top of the hill from where we parked and B) Everyone had a headlamp but me. As we started running up the hill in the dark, I could tell I was in for a world of hurt. The first mile was worse than Diablo. These trail runners are seriously crazy. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't see. And everyone around me was laughing, having a great time, including a woman whose apparent job was to keep me from being last in line.

We finally summitted the ridge and from there it got worse. Up and down and up and down we went. Into the valley and then back up to the ridge and then into the valley again. Beautiful run, I think. Most of the time I felt like I was going explode from one end or the other, but I was never quite sure which one was going to pop first.

Seriously, the run was amazingly beautiful. Redwood groves everywhere and the feeling of being in Jurassic Park. What I've learned is that although I am a fast runner, I am not a strong runner. Time to change that.

Friends?

If you're not looking forward to this movie, then I'm not sure we can be friends any longer.

Two Weeks

"Has it really been two weeks since my last post? Inexcuseable and unacceptable. I don't have much to report on the running front. After a marathon, I typically only run about 20 miles a week for a month or two. Well, I'm on post-marathon week 3 and I'm right on track. I also haven't gained any weight which is surprising. Check that, it's not that surprising. I've been on the Diet Coke diet. I'm surprisingly full most of the time.

So I have a laundry list of items and zero time. I just didn't want you to think that I was ignoring you out of"

I wrote that two weeks ago. I don't remember why I was interrupted or what I was going to write, but because I don't want you guys to miss any of my very important thoughts, I'm including it in this very brief note.

Well, my seven weeks of Monday through Friday travel have come to an end. I now have at least two weeks at home before I am off to who knows where for who knows how long. Management consulting is definitely a business that keeps you on your toes. I won't talk anymore about work. Primarily because I don't want to get fired, but also because it is very dull. The most exciting part of my last engagement, which was in Pasadena, was my visit to Roscoe's House of Chicken and Waffles. Before I hear the accusations and see the hurt looks, yes, I cheated on my gluten-free diet. How could I not? Fried chicken and waffles covered with syrup and gravy. It could not be passed up. What happened next was somewhat comical and something that a co-worker and I now refer to as The Roscoe's Coma.

After eating two huge waffles, 1/4 fried chicken (dark meat), covered in gravy and syrup, we headed back to the client site where we proceeded to do, I'm not sure what we proceeded to do other than sit in our office, groan, and fart. At least I was discrete. My co-worker didn't even try. He just let them rip. I had to leave a few times it was that bad. I could tell that it was tough for him to look me in the eye today. Roscoe's Coma or not, that's just wrong.

Pictureless Review

It seems very wrong to write about an experience at Lake Tahoe and to not have any pictures. We're talking about one of the most beautiful places on Earth and no pictures. Sorry, but with my location and schedule, it's not happening at the moment. For some pics, go here and here. Liz took some great shots.

So going into this marathon, I knew that I wanted to run with my sister Amy and my father. Running together with my family, particularly a marathon, has always seemed very right. My training reflected the type of race I was going to run. I only ran three days a week and didn't do any speedwork. However, the speed just doesn't sit on idle. It's there. If you've read some of my previous training runs and looked at my beautiful brown salt-encrusted eyes, you'll know that I trained hard and fast on my long runs. On a flat course, I still think I could have run a sub-3:10. On this course, probably a 3:25 or so. But that's not why I wanted to run the Lake Tahoe marathon. I was running it for the experience. What I found is that running a marathon for the experience and to run it with your family is probably a richer experience than running it for myself and for a PR.

We arrived in Tahoe on Thursday. We went two whole days early in order to get acclimated to the 6500 foot elevation. I later found out that it takes 6 weeks to become properly acclimated.

I'm not going to bore you with the non-marathon activities. Yes, we stayed in a casino. Yes, we went to a buffet. Yes, we took the paddlewheeler to Emerald Bay and it was amazing. Yes, we had sushi the night before as required by Mike F.'s marathon laws. Liz can tell you all about our adventures with Zane in restaurants. He just wasn't having it. Let's go straight to the race.

Wait, I will tell you about our Friday drive of the race course. I knew the west side of Tahoe was pretty hilly and I had seen the elevation profile. I've been to Tahoe a number of times in the winter and have driven that road in order to get to Squaw Valley. What I had not done is actually drive the road and consider what it would be like to run it. Maybe driving the course in advance was a mistake. The last 13 miles are painful. Up and down and up and up and up and up and up and up and then down and then up and up and up some more, followed by the downhill to the finish. What made me the most nervous was where the up was located. Between miles 15 and 21 is not where you want to see massive uphill. It was like Boston, but steeper, longer, and at 6500 feet.

So back to Saturday morning. My dad, Amy, and I, along with Liz, Zane, Kevin, and my mom all boarded the buses. The marathon had a spectactor pass that you could purchase that allowed you to take the buses to the starting line and then take to three points along the course, as well as the finish line, to support your runners. It was pretty cool and very helpful. More on this later. We arrived at the starting line about 30 minutes before the race started. Only about 400 runners. Amy, my dad, and myself get ready and then bam, we're off. Only 26.2 miles to go.

The first 10 miles are amazing. Right on the shore as the sun is rising. People were stopping and taking pictures. When the event organizers tell you that it is the most beautiful marathon in the world, they are not joking. We see the family at mile 1.5, mile 4, and mile 7.5. It was great to see them. High fives to Liz. Waving to Zane. Hearing my mom encourage my dad. Everyone is having a great time. I'm acting as the mule and carrying everyone's gels and making sure we're on pace (not too fast, not too slow). Our goal is to run a sub 5 hour marathon. My dad ran it last year in 5:05.

It was tough at first being a pacer. My body just wanted to scream and run and go, go, go, go, go. That tapered up rested feeling had me ready to just hammer down. I held it back. Our first six miles or so were right around a 10 minute pace. Probably a little fast, but after seeing that road yesterday, I wanted to book a little time, as I knew that some of those miles would be in the 13 and 14 minute range. We just ran, talked, joked, and enjoyed it.

At about mile 9, I had an issue. I needed to use the facilities. Fortunately for me, I saw one of two port-a-johns about a 1/4 mile ahead. I told my dad and Amy that I was going to use it and for them to just keep going. I sprinted out ahead, which felt very, very good, did my deed and then sprinted until I caught up to them again. I was surprised at how far ahead of me they were. It took me a little bit to catch them. Once I caught them, we started to space out a little bit. I could tell that Amy was a little winded and that my dad was raring to go. I gave my dad three gels and told him to go and that I'd stay back with Amy. He went. Up a short, but steep hill, then down, them bam, there was the mother of all hills. Two miles long with an average incline of 8%, with some sections being even worse.

It was brutal. This was around mile 15 and we were in the thick of the 1/2 marathoners. I didn't see a single person running up the hill. Everyone walked, except my dad, who we could still see, and me and Amy. We went slow, but we ran. Amy then told me that she could see that our dad had started to walk. I told her that I'd be right back and to not stop running. I ran up to my dad who was about 200 yards ahead of us, gave him a pat on the back, told him he was doing great, to keep running, and to let his arms do his work. You pump your arms and your legs can't help but follow. He was running again at this point and I told him I was going back down to Amy. On my way down, people looked at my like I was nuts, which I was. Once I got back to Amy, I told her to keep her head down and to just focus on my feet and to keep her arms pumping. We kept running. But like I said, this was a 2 mile hill. It was massive. I saw my dad begin walking again. I knew we were near the top, so I charged back up the hill and repeated what I had done before. I ran with him until I could tell we were near the top. We could also hear the spectators from the spectator bus. I told him that this was it, then it was some sweet downhill and to just take off. That was the last time I saw him until the finish line.

Back to Amy. This is the second time that these people had seen me go up and down. It was actually pretty funny. I heard a few "God bless you"s. I told Amy to not waste any energy talking and that we were almost to the top. A couple of minutes later, we crested the hill and there was my mom with water to dump on us and Liz, Zane, and Kevin. It was good to see them. The hardest part was over. Liz was screaming. It was great. Just 9 miles left.

Going down into Emerald Bay is something I'll never forget. We had just killed ourselves getting to the top and to then be going down with that view was incredible. Amy and I talked quite a bit. We couldn't believe how well our 58 year old father was doing. We totally knew he was going to smoke his goal time of 5 hours. We knew this because although we had a view of at least 2 miles of road, he was nowhere to be found. We knew there was one very steep hill left, but it seemed like the worst was behind us.

Technically correct, but I had forgotten about those last few miles. As we chugged up the road that led out of Emerald Bay, we kept running. Once we came to the top at mile 20, we both were feeling good and sped up a little. The most scenic and tough parts of the course were over and we thought we had this race in the bag. We were slightly wrong. At about mile 22, that wall. That soreness. That fatigue began to set in. Amy had only decided to do the marathon about 4 weeks ago and although she is an avid runner, it's hard to fake the last miles of a marathon without the mileage under your feet. Me, I'd never run for this long before. I'm a 3 hour guy. My dogs were barking and I just wanted to get off of them. To make matters worse, we were diverted off of the main road onto the bike trail that somewhat follows the road. Except that it has a lot of little turns that bug the crap out of you when all you want to do is go straight.

We slowed down and kept going. Amy never stopped to walk. 1 mile left and we're sharing the path with tons of people. 1/2 marathoners, bikers, people out for a walk. Then we hit 26 miles. .2 to go and we can see the finish line. Nobody is talking. We just want to get done. We saw my mom. We saw my dad. We finished. 5:00:45 for Amy and 5:00:49 for me. Then, we went to the beach and just relaxed. What a great run. I think I've found my calling. Now to find a way to make it profitable.

Oh and my dad. 4:44. Amazing.

For LisaPow

Tapering. Something that I am enjoying right now, probably a little too much. My advice for the taper and marathon in no particular order:

- Enjoy it.
- Don't stress about not running as much. The body needs time to heal.
- Cut back on your calories only slightly. Don't worry about a little extra weight gain.
- Cut your toenails a week before.
- The night that is two nights before your marathon is the most important, as there is no way you're sleeping the night before. Get a solid 8 or 9 hours in.
- Nothing out of the ordinary in your diet the week before the race.
- Nothing spicy for the two days prior to your race.
- Carbo-load, but don't overdo it.
- Don't forget your band-aids and vaseline/bodyglide in order to prevent chaffing.
- Eat breakfast in the morning. I usually eat a banana, drink a gatorade, and have a bowl of cereal about two hours before.
- Use the port-a-johns at least twice. You don't want to have to stop.
- Sign up for a pace group. If you can't keep up with that pace group, don't sweat it and when the next pace group catches up to you, stick with them.
- Wear shoes that have only about 50 miles on them, but make sure they are the same make/model that you have trained in.
- If you plan on wearing any cold weather gear during the marathon, make sure it's something that you don't care about, as you will be tossing it on the side of the road at about mile 4.
- Rotate water and gatorade at each aid station. Don't overdo it.
- Take a gel every hour. I recommend the ones with caffeine, but if you haven't used ones with caffeine before, don't try them for the first time the day of your race.
- If you're tight, stop and stretch.
- If you're in pain, walk for a minute, then try to pick it back up.
- Write your name on your bib or your arms or better yet, have it stitched on your shirt. When you're at mile 22 and people are screaming your name, it means everything.
- Let the people at the end of the race ice you down. A lot.
- Eat plenty of ice cream at the end, then go to Tony Romas for all you can eat ribs.

Humbled And Delusionaled

If you look closely at this photo, you can see the salt that my body purges while I'm out on a long run. Last Saturday's salt levels weren't particularly bad, as it wasn't very hot, but it was the first time I remembered to take a picture of it. I'm surprised that small woodland animals aren't running up to me for a lick.

Last Saturday was my last big long run before Tahoe. 22 miles. I'm happy to say that I will not be running another such run for at least 9 months. Remember, I'm on the one marathon a year program. During my long runs, I need something to keep my mind off the fact that I'll be running 22 miles. I've developed a real passion for running people down and not being passed. Prideful, yes. Distracting and fun, yes, yes.

I was moving along pretty well, picking people off one by one or in one case a huge group of people and then off in the distance I saw him, a runner about a half mile ahead of me. I was determined to get him. I slowly started to reel him in. Surprisingly, it took longer than expected. It was probably about four miles before I caught him. As I caught up to him, I could tell that this guy was a serious runner and also a little bit older than me. We were also both running sub-7 miles. As I drew abreast, he started talking to me. He asked how far I was going. I puffed out my chest and said, 22 miles. He laughed and told me to ask him how far he was going. I asked and he said 22 miles. It turned out we're both running marathons in three weeks. He then told me that he was shooting for a 2:55 marathon and that it would be sweet if he could do it because he was turning 51 on Monday and to PR right after turning 51 would be special.

I hope he didn't see my jaw drop. Wow. Amazing. I told him he was the man and then we chit chatted for another couple of minutes before we hit his turnaround point. I hope I'm still running strong at 51. If genetics have anything to do with it and they always do so I'm not too worried about it, then I'm sure I will be.

Now I told you that I like running people down and I don't like getting passed. Well, I don't remember the last time I was passed. It's probably because I treat every training run like a race, but what can you do. To run fast, you've gotta run fast. Well, at about mile 18, I heard footsteps behind me. My heart began to beat a little faster. No way is some chump that is out for a 3 mile run going to pass me at mile 18. I'm not a mark. I'm the marker. So I slowly sped up. I couldn't shake the guy. Finally after about a mile, I'm resigned to getting passed. It's going to happen. But the person won't pass me. At this point, I'm beginning to get annoyed. Just pass me already dammit. I refused to look back as I didn't want to see this person's smiling face as he toyed with me.

About a minute later, I realized that there was no one behind me. What I took for footsteps was in fact the sloshing of my two water bottles. My delusional already having run 19 miles mind was playing tricks on me. I was glad that no one was around, as I'm sure I turned an even brighter shade of red.

To infinity and beyond!

Coming Down The Mountain

I realize that I am somewhat obsessed with this mountain. I won't promise never to talk about Mt. Diablo again, but I'll try to incorporate other mountains such as this one into my endurance athletic feats, but for now, Mt. Diablo it is. At least this isn't about running. It's about cycling, something I only do once or twice a week.

My office is full of endurance athletes. Just about everyone has run multiple marathons and about half the office has done a triathlon, with one guy having just completed an Ironman. I'm not even the fastest guy in the office. Maybe second on a good day. And everyone rides. One of my peers lives in Danville, the next town over and once a week rides up Diablo from the south side. We decided to ride it together once a week. Yesterday was the first day.

I rode around Diablo to Danville, which is about a 10 mile ride, and then we took off. A shortcut through the Danville Country Club and we were on Mt. Diablo Scenic Boulevard. The south side is much different than the north side. It's more wooded, longer, and has some flat recovery stretches, which are key. On the way up, I'm gasping for breath and laughing at the same time. The guy I'm riding with used to be a professional mountain biker and knows his stuff. He likes to play the "Let's go 70%, let people pass us and get about 20 bike lengths on us, then hammer down and go after them" game. He especially enjoyed doing this when someone on a $5000 bike named after a very famous cyclist who he'd actually met passed us. Comments such as, "They better back that up." and "His jersey matches his rims, which match his bike?? He better back that up." were heard several times. Like I said, it was an amusing ride.

What wasn't as amusing, but was very surprising was the number of tarantulas crossing the road. I guess it's mating season. I saw two going up and probably another two going down. Almost nailed one, which would have been a mess as the things are huge.

Anyway, we got to the top, took a quick break, looked at the sun, and estimated that I had another 20 minutes of daylight. Time to bomb down the mountain. This is where it was almost spiritual. The picture above, while not taken by me, was what I saw. Mist covering the valley and the sun going down to my left. I laughed out loud at the beauty of it, which probably startled the two guys on a tandem that I passed going 40mph, but what can you do, my bike goes fast. I'm a little tired today, but not sore. It's definitely a ride that I'm going to do at least weekly.

Mt. Diablo Trail Run

A guy at church I've spoken with a couple of times asked me if I wanted to go running with him Labor Day morning. He was very humble about his running ability and concerned that I wouldn't want to run 'slow'. I told him not to worry about it and that I enjoyed running with people of all abilities, as it's nice to have company. He then asked if I wanted to go on a trail run. Built up at this point thinking that I am a running god, I said sure and we agreed on a time and place. I told Liz that I would be going for a nice easy run, probably 3 or 4 miles. Yes, I was wrong.

We met up at 8am this morning and proceeded straight up a mountain. Mt. Diablo to be exact. In a little over 3 miles, we gained about 600 feet in elevation. Brutal. At the top of the first climb, he asked what my heart rate was. Fortunately, I hadn't brought my heart rate monitor, as I would have likely had to tell him that I was approaching 200. Nothing like going anaerobic first thing in the morning. Of course his was 173. Oh, did I forget to tell you that this guy is 12 years older than I am?

It was actually a very nice run, once I learned how to breathe fire. We're going to do this run weekly. 7.5 miles of burning quads. Actually, the last mile or so is pretty flat. That's where I showed him how it's done. You know, running on flat asphalt. It's so tough.

Moons Over My Hammy Re-Redux

It's not a serious injury, but my right hamstring is very tender this morning. My Zaneless run last night was not that fast. Fast enough to not be comfortable, but not fast enough to sweat. Oh, you didn't know that I have a sweating problem? Yes, I simply don't sweat that much. This probably explains my complete bonking in any run/race that is held in temperatures over sixty degrees. My hair looks good the whole way though, so it's a trade-off.

Anyways, my right hamstring is sore. We'll see how it goes tonight on my bike. And Mo, just come out and visit and I'll push you by the creek. The only requirement is that you provide conversation based upon sentences made up of at the most two words. For example, "Daddy, duck."; "Daddy, truck"; "Daddy, horsie." And my favorite, "Daddy fast." I might let go of you when we go down the hill though.

New Training Regimen

I've discovered the secret to running long and fast. It involves pushing a jogging stroller with a 35 pound 2 year old twice a week over a very hilly 8 mile loop. I know, that's crazy. You'd think it'd never work. Pushing 50 pounds over hills is just supposed to make you tired, not strong. Well, it turns out it makes you strong too. I suspected as much last week when I was pushing Zane over the hills and when I finished up and looked at my watch, I found that I had completed the run averaging just over 8 minute miles. So I decided to put my strength to the test on Saturday by going long and fast.

Twenty miles. I wasn't excited to go out and do this run. Especially considering I had a timetable and needed to get back in order to get ready to go to the IRL Grand Prix of Sonoma, which was pretty cool by the way. Zane loved Turn 7. I would have bought him one of those little collectible Indy cars, but they were $500 and that's just a little much for a car that doesn't even have an engine.

Well, even though I didn't want to get out there, I still had to go and do it. I have a marathon in five weeks and skipping a long at this point just isn't acceptable. I started out conservative, running an 8:30 first mile and then slowly built up my speed. At the end of mile 10, I was averaging just at 8 minutes per mile. That's when I decided to turn on the afterburners and see what I could do. Surprisingly, the afterburners just kept on going. For the remaining 10 miles I averaged 7:20 miles. For miles 11, 12, and 13, I was running sub-7s. I backed off of that, but it sure felt good. I was only nervous about my last mile, which is a mile long hill. I usually run that last mile at about 9:45, due to the hill and it being the last mile of a 20 mile run. Not that day. I charged up it and finished it in 7:45.

When I completed that last mile, I felt like a lion. I felt fast again and wanted to roar, which I have done on occasion. The adrenaline and endorphins just get to me sometimes. At the end of the day, I ran 20 miles in 2:33 (11 minutes faster than last week), which is probably the third fastest 20 miles I've ever done. The fastest being the Flying Pig Marathon where I did a ridiculous 2:22 and the second fastest being a training run prior to the Pig when I ran a 2:29.

This experience tells me one thing. I haven't lost my speed. A sub-3 hour marathon is still attainable. This Saturday I have another 20 miler. I'm not promising to break 2:30, but if I'm feeling it, I'm going to go for it.

So thank you Zane. What I thought was just going to be nice father-son time running along the creek pointing at ducks, doggies, and horses has now turned into a serious strength training workout. Now if I could only avoid those thorns that keep puncturing the tires on your jogging stroller (three punctures in two weeks).

Fear

I ran my first 20 miler since April two days ago. Surprisingly, I was only a little sore, especially considering that I hadn't run long in three weeks due to the Arizona trip. I started out pretty conservatively running the first 10 miles around 8:20 pace. It always takes me about 6 miles to start feeling comfortable. Additionally, the out leg is uphill and on Saturday there was a headwind. The back leg I sped up and was running 7:20s, at least until the mile long hill that was mile 20.

I know, I know. It was just two years ago I ran a full marathon at 7:11 pace. I guess that's what running three days a week and trying to have a family life can do to your speed. I WILL hit a sub-3 hour marathon. Likely target is St. George 2007. But that will be the second most important race of 2007, as I will only be racing against myself. The most important race will be the St. George triathlon. Mav and JP must die.

Here are my target splits:

1500m swim - 25 minutes
40km bike - 22mph
10km run - 39 minutes

Let that last number sink in a little. Let me also say that although I think my first two numbers are realistic/slightly aggressive, my last number is most definitely conservative. How does it taste? The fear that is.

Rebel Yell

No, not Billy Idol, although if he lived in Walnut Creek, I would be pretty excited. Would I ask Billy to sing Rebel Yell or White Wedding?

Hey, little sister, what have you done
Hey, little sister, who's the only one...

I don't like quoting lyrics, as wasting space with unoriginal text seems wasteful. You know, because the internet might fill up. However, in this case, with me dancing around the office playing air guitar, and I play a pretty good air guitar, almost as good as Mo's, I will make an exception and quote Billy.

Wow, that is some terrible English.

Where was I? Oh, yes, the non-Billy Idol rebel yell. So I am pulling into the Walnut Creek BART station yesterday and I glance down (BART is on an elevated track) and I see a flagpole. Flying on this flagpole are two flags, the first one being the U.S. flag. The second one wasn't the California state flag. It was the Confederate battle flag. In Walnut Creek.

Disappointment

How could I not have seen it? When it was later pointed out to me, I wondered how I could have been so blind. Was I in a rush? Was my cart so full that I just needed to escape? Did the buy one, get one free offer overwhelm my ability to read? Was I dreaming of a Diet Dr. Pepper that I later forgot to buy? Or was it simply my lack of attention to detail? Whatever the answer, it was a tragedy. I inadvertently bought light ice cream. Light Mint 'n Chip to be exact. Now light ice cream is usually better than no ice cream and this particular batch was no exception, but non-light, full of delicious fat, ice cream is so much better. There are two main differences. First, it's obviously not as rich. Two, and this is the part that really drives me mad, it's melting point is much lower than normal ice cream. And once it melts, it's incredibly watery. Now it was a good snack. Don't get me wrong. It just wasn't as good as it should have been and it was all due to my inability to notice the word "light", which happened to be printed on the lid 50 times. Fortunately, I had two root beer floats, which contained normal vanilla ice cream, later in the day to help me out of my light ice cream funk.

Suki Desu Ka?

Hai, suki desu. Any job that sets aside an entire Friday afternoon in order for the office to have its fantasy football draft is pretty good in my book.

Whatchagonnado When They Come For You?

That's right. The DPD was out in force Wednesday night and just like Maurice Clarett, this Bad Boy got pulled over after a serious highway chase. Ok, maybe it didn't quite happen that way. Maybe I was riding my bike instead of driving a SUV. Maybe I blew through two red lights (the coast was clear, I promise) instead of weaving erratically. And maybe it was a water bottle in my hands, not four guns, including an assault rifle. Ok, maybe it wasn't like Maurice Clarett at all, but I had to bring him in somehow. Talk about snatching defeat from the jaws of victory. One minute you're scoring the winning touchdown at the Fiesta Bowl, a sure fire NFL running back and the next you're going to prison for 30 years. Ouch.

So yes, I was pulled over by the Danville Police Department, in all of my spandex glory. Apparently, running a red light on a bike is a no no, even if the coast is clear a la NY style. Fortunately, he just gave me a warning as a ticket received while riding a bicycle counts the same as a ticket you receive from driving a car. That wouldn't have looked pretty on my insurance.

Chimera?

Contrary to popular belief, the puma is not a mythological creature. It did not try to turn Theseus into stone, it did not spring from the head of Zeus, and it most certainly did not strap on wings, fly too close to the sun, watch its wings melt and do a nosedive into the Aegean.

Congratulations Beka, I hope you're having fun.

Pressure Cooker

Can you feel it? The pressure to post is insufferable. All week long people have been emailing me and telling me that I must post. I'm not sure why as this has turned into one of the more dull blogs in the blogosphere. Ever since I moved from NY to the Bay area, my life has literally become more and more dull and it's been reflected in my posts. My latest hit entry is about a foam roller?? This is a problem.

I'm not one of those who didn't know what he had when he had it. I loved NY. Every minute. Even the nut jobs on the subway. I'm glad I'm not there right at this moment, as sitting next to a window unit A/C hoping to cool off to a pleasant 93 degrees sounds pretty terrible and being in the subway gives me nightmares thinking about it. The smell must be truly awful. Who knows what is cooking down there. However, overall, the flair that NY has is missing. Maybe we should move to the city? Maybe we should just accept the fact that we're suburbanites now. But I can't do that. It'd be like denying my inner Comic Book Guy. And that my friends is something I am not prepared to do.



I hope that this post releashes those who have been hounding me. Seriously people, this stuff just isn't that good.

A Blind Man

Does it strike anyone else as odd that a blind man would get onto BART, call 911 and report a suspicious package at the previous BART station?

Middlesex and Beyond

Due to a couple of 15 hour travel days, I had more reading time than usual and I finished Middlesex. I give it a thumbs up. Superb writing. Engaging story. I was happy to step out of my usual mix of history, science, and other non-fiction. Very good summer read.

Next up, The House of Morgan. A specific history about the rise of J.P. Morgan the institution and more importantly, a history of modern finance. I've read two other Chernow books, Alexander Hamilton and Titan and loved them both. Chernow has a very easy to read writing style and his detail is to the nth degree. After I read Alexander Hamilton, I always felt a little bit differently about walking past his tombstone at Trinity Church on my way to school.

Sick of the Tampon?

First of all, it's not a tampon. It's an ultradense foam roller. It has healed me. Don't make me choose between the two of you. Second of all, I've been more than a little busy. 15 hour travel days, insane people with insane requests, and of course trying to escape this awful heat. 113? That's simply wrong. We left Arizona for many reasons. Number 6 on the list was escaping the awful heat. Our neighbors are blaming us. That's ok, they're all pretty dull anyway.

So today's post. I won't bore you with my 16 mile run in triple digits. Nor will I comment on any of the movies I've seen lately. What I will write about is the Santa Cruz boardwalk. Because as most of you know, boardwalks are where the entertainment is. Deep fried twinkies, check. Centrifuge-like rides, check. Young girl who looks half drunk puking two feet from my feet, check. Swimsuits that are much, much too small in a very bad way, check. Pretty much the only thing that prevented the SC boardwalk from being Coney Island was the complete lack of freaks. I however refused to let the lack of freakiness deter my ability to be amused. I am a ghost faced killa, but c'mon, it was a Saturday at the beach.

I will now share my two favorite boardwalk events (and yes, I've reverted to the writing style that one of my International Relations political science professors dubbed, "The Most Boring Writing Style I've Ever Read". I blame my reversion on the enormous length of time I've spent on Excel over the past two weeks.). I will not use this space to comment on the heavenly reception we received at Vasili's post-boardwalk. I don't want to sully that experience with boardwalk dirtiness. Event #1: Parking at the boardwalk.

This event would be much more amusing with either a picture or a personal demonstration. The wait to park was a little long. As cars approached the $10 a day parking lot (Liz and I gave each other high fives that it wasn't $10 an hour.), three lanes of traffic were merging into one lane to enter the lot. As we were merging, a minivan next to us began honking like mad and pulled up next to our door. What we then witnessed was beyond amusing. Again, a picture or a demonstration would be worth so much more than this paragraph. A man with three teeth and a woman with purple hair were both screaming at the top of their lungs at us. The woman was especially amusing as she was also jumping in her seat and pointing at us. Instinctively, I knew what to do to infuriate them further. I simply pointed at them and began laughing. It was then that I saw her begin to foam at the mouth, at which point, I threw back my head and laughed even more. Unfortunately, once we got into the parking lot, we couldn't find them. We would have had the camera ready.

Event #2: Dance Dance Revolution 2. Again, a picture would make this story much much better. As we were making our way back to the car in order to go to Greek heaven, I had to visit the men's room. The closest one was in one of the boardwalk arcades. At the entrance to the arcade was DDR 2. Surrounding DDR 2 were about 15 guys with shaved heads, no shirts, and plenty of tattoos. One guy was dancing, but he was holding onto the bar. He was obviously doing very well. As he finished up the round, another huge guy with a shaved head, no shirt, and plenty of tattoos told him, "If you were a real dancer, you wouldn't hold onto the bar." The other guys with shaved heads, no shirts, and plenty of tattoos all murmured in assent. I'm glad that I stifled my laughter as I'm sure they would have first kicked my ass and then used me as their dance pad.

Mexican Food

Always gives me a little charge for the rest of the afternoon. At least for the first 30 minutes. After that, I'm more than a little sluggish. You might ask if it's worth it. I'll tell you that in those 30 minutes, I accomplish more than in the remaining 4, er, I mean 2 hours of my workday. Did I just say that out loud? I take late lunches. Late I tell you. Good thing the internet is anonymous.

For those who are looking at this as correlation, rather than causation, and are attributing my renewed energy to the walk to the taco stand, rather than the tacos themselves, you're wrong, dead wrong. I function off of grease and fat. It is my fuel. Short bursts of hyperactivity. Do you want to be a supernova or whatever the opposite of a supernova is? (If anyone knows, please share. Wikipedia AND Google both failed. Unbelievable.)

25 minutes left.

Dear Mr. ITB Part Ni

Hi there. Haven't heard from you in a while. Guess what? I'm pretty happy about that. I know we are close and you know some of the more intimate details of my life, but really, have we ever had a close emotional relationship? It's simply been physical and basically, you've only caused me pain and suffering. Well, after speaking to my therapist, we finally figured out that I couldn't let you run my life for me and I needed to take control. My medication wasn't working, resting wasn't working, and ice wasn't working. It was finally time to do what I'd talked about doing for years, but never really had the courage to do. Buy an ultradensity foam roller. I don't want to hear about your complaints. I know, I know. It hurts you not having the type of control over my life that you're used to. I finally don't give a damn. You should count yourself lucky that I didn't have you removed.

Over the past couple of weeks, I've rolled on the new love of my life. Sweet rolls that bring such pain. As you are squished between the roller and my femur, the pain slowly builds and by the third roll, I'm sweating and grimacing, but I know it's for my own good. Once I'm finished and stand up, the pain is gone. I can see you run away like a little girl into the corner and cry because of what you've lost. Just remember that I own the ultradense foam roller now. It has a special place in my closet right next to my running and cycling shoes. I will never get rid of it. Now crawl away into the darkness. I'm through with you.

With complete indifference,
PTC

For My

Econ geek loving friends. I know there are only two of you. Makes me nostalgic for business school.

Thank you Andrew Sullivan for making YouTube a part of my daily routine.

Update: The guy singing this is the Dean of Columbia's business school. Apparently he coveted Alan's old position.

For The Haters

Now tell me you're not saying, "Holy...". And this doesn't even do the last mile justice. 15% grade.

Many thanks to Klimb. What a sweet program. Sorry for those that don't live in the Bay Area or Ohio (how random is that).

Slow Afternoon

Funniest YouTube clip ever.

Middlesex

Apparently my devotion to non-fiction doesn't cut it on the Left Coast. I have been coaxed into trying a work of fiction that doesn't involve dragons or planetary travel. This should be interesting. I've heard and read the reviews. Hermaphrodite? Ok. As I have an open mind, I'll read it, but this is no guarantee that I'll continue down Pulitzer's fiction list. Why read make believe when I can read about reality?

The Devil Mountain

Walnut Creek is home to Mt. Diablo State Park. The centerpiece of the park is of course Mt. Diablo. Well, ever since I bought my tri-bike, the Cervelo P2K pictured here (stock photo, not my actual bike - mine has an upgraded seat and Rolf wheels), this mountain has been taunting me. Granted, it's only been two weeks, but I thought, "Hey, I'm an endurance athlete, let's do this." (I was speaking to my bike. I haven't named it yet, as it still feels like I'm just borrowing it.)

So off we went late Monday morning. I would have started earlier, but I had to hold my son down while the doctor tortured him. That cry. Ouch, makes me sweat. Horrible. At first, I wasn't really planning on going to the top. It is a 3900 foot climb over about 12 miles. That seemed a little too aggressive. I entered the park and the climbing began immediately. Switchback after switchback after switchback. I passed several people and was passed by several people. I quickly learned one thing. Tri-bikes are not made for climbing. They are made for speed. Oh I was wishing for some bigger sprockets or at least a granny wheel up front, but I had to make do with what I had.

Early on, there was a climb that almost caused me to puke. I haven't had that much lactic acid in my system since I ran cross country in high school. But I made it through. I passed the 1000 foot marker. I passed the 2000 foot marker. I passed the ranger station. I passed the Livermore lookout. It was at this point that my legs were beginning to get a little, actually more than a little rubbery. They just weren't used to this punishment. I made it up to Juniper ridge (a lower peak at around 2900 feet) and looked up at the summit. I didn't have it in me to go the rest of the way. Another 1000 feet over a mile and a half just wasn't happening. I wish I had had my camera because that was one steep road. It made the puking, lactic acid climb look like child's play.

I reluctantly stopped and it was at that point that I looked around. It was pretty amazing. I look forward to summitting the peak in another two weeks. I'll bring my camera this time.

The ride down was another story. I'd never gone 40mph on a bike before. I'd never gone 40mph down a narrow, steep, windy road on a bike before. Now that was a rush. Terrifying, but definitely exhilerating. I did use my brakes, sparingly. At one point, even though I was using my big gear up front and my smallest gear in the back, my hips were rocking because I couldn't pedal fast enough. It was extremely entertaining. Now if only I didn't need to share the road with those pesky cars. A guard rail would be comforting as well.

Dear Mr. ITB,

I had thought that we had come to an understanding and that your constant flareups were history. I guess not. Apparently, you have come to grips with my running, but throwing cycling into the mix has really pissed you off. I know that you don't care, but I want you to know that it's somewhat depressing.

Thanks to you I'm back to RICE, although I'll probably just skip the Rest and do ICE only. You know me.

Just so you know, I just bought an ultra-dense foam roller, which I will use to torture you into submission. You'll probably recall that that is how I beat you before and just so we're clear I will win again. You will lose. The other thing is that I used a standard density foam roller last time. Well, you've really irritated me now. Ultra-density. I'm not sure you know what that means as you're only a tendon and don't really have the capability of doing anything other than causing me pain, but ultra-dense means ultra-pain, possibly even bruises. Deep bruises. I know, I know. I can feel your glare now. Your threat of completely buckling is one I take very seriously. Thank you again for doing that in the middle of the Boston Marathon. So kind.

You better watch it or one day, I'm just going to cut you off. Floppy knee?? I don't care. I just want you to suffer. I have a marathon to run and many triathlons to win.

Love,
Your One and Only Highly Skilled Endurance Athlete

Worse Than Birkenstocks

This is wrong on so many levels and yes, these are being worn by a man. The socks kill me. I only wish I had turned down the volume on my phone, as there was a loud snapshot sound as I captured this on BART today.

Much, much worse than my new cycling sunglasses that I tried wearing with normal clothes.

6000 Years Old???

I'll just leave it at that as I don't want to possibly cause a ruckus, but for this to be said, wait, I said I'd stop...

It's still in me, but I must desist. Must stop snark. Please willpower, stop me from the cynicism and ripping that must be freed. It MUST be freed!

Deep breath. I'm holding it in.

I used this experience to help fuel my 4:20am ride this morning. It's amazing what observed obtuseness and a non-response can do for one's cadence and speed. I was 4mph faster during this recollection. Maybe I should make a new friend. It'd do wonders for my cycling.

BART

BART, not the BART, or Bart, but I rode BART today or I BARTED in. It wasn't like this when I rode THE subway. I didn't subway in and I definitely never rode subway in. Very interesting, this Northern California place, which doesn't quite feel like home yet and doesn't really feel all that different from the blur of places that we have lived in so far. If you're counting, this is our sixth residence in seven years. It's not as bad as it sounds, as we lived in three places in our first year, but still, our nomadic existence continues. This place just has a weird hippy vibe to it. Maybe speaking of the mass transportation system as if it was a living thing has something to do with it. Or maybe the six trash cans I have. Or the fact that I found myself in lycra yesterday riding around on a bike. Has this place already begun demasculinizing me? Is that even a word? Did I just invent a word similar to how the NoCalites have invented a living thing that goes through tubes and takes you to the city (I refuse to capitalize city. There is only one City and that is NY.)?

Ok, on to the picture. Apparently, it is ok to sit on the ground on BART. I'm not sure how BART feels about this because you know, he's alive (oh, crap, what if BART is a female and my chauvinistic tendencies are creeping in assuming that BART is a he?? - I hope none of the NoCalites I know read this or I'm screwed. Wait, who am I kidding, I have Vinny Bag O' Donuts on my side. What are they going to do? Call the recycling police on me?) So yes, I've seen this behavior many times by people dressed casually and by those dressed professionally. It's weird I tell you. Now I'm assuming that the NoCalites are comfortable sitting on carpet and would likely not do this on THE subway. Let me tell you something, BART's carpet and cushions are nasty. It skeeves me out just sitting on the thing. I don't even want to think about what's been spilled or shot into those things. The carpet and cushions have got to be the originals. They are seriously brown.

Ok, next amusing BART story, but first a sidenote. I hadn't posted anything recently about my travels on the subway. Not because the subway became boring, but because anything that I'd see had become commonplace. Subway performers? I knew them all by name. Women getting punched? I could pick the guy out in a lineup. Women purse snatchers? Again, line 'em up Law and Order and I'll testify. The one thing that I thankfully didn't see was a guy dropping his drawyers and diarreahing all over the place. I've heard about it, but never witnessed it. If I ever see that on BART, I'll take a pic as I'm plugging my nose. Ok, so I thought that my BART rides would be considerably more tame than the subway and that my days of mass transit photography were over. I was wrong. Within the last 24 hours, I have the lovely pic above, as well as one of the funniest lines I've ever heard. No pics. Sorry.

I'm riding home last night and happen to sit next to a woman whose age I couldn't even approximate. Oldish, but not super old. I think. As soon as we're out of the tunnel that goes under the Bay (I'll capitalize this one.), she whips out her cell phone and begins conversing with someone that I assume is her daughter. Her daughter has problems. Can't handle the kids, can't handle her job, can't handle her boyfriend, her car is messed up, her house is a wreck, and to top it off, she wasn't able to go grocery shopping yesterday and has nothing to eat. This isn't just me snooping. The whole car knows what is going on. Wait, it gets better. The mother (remember, she's sitting right next to me) begins to go off on her. "You need to listen to me. All you do is complain and whine. You're never trying to solve your problems, just talk about them. Listen to me and I'll tell you what to do. Focus on the solution, not the problem." blah, blah, blah, blah. Now this wasn't done with a calm, soothing voice, but with a voice like sandpaper. I know where her daughter got that whine from. They just whined differently. It was painful and amusing at the same time. I received many a sympathy look. Ok, that's not the best part. This went on for fifteen minutes or so. Finally, one guy in the car couldn't stand it anymore and yelled, "Put a sock in it Dr. Phil." Oh, yes, it was sweet. Me and about half the car were rolling. The best part was that she just ignored us and kept on advising. Screech screech.

PUT A SOCK IN IT DR. PHIL!

"It's Chasing Me Around the Kitchen"

Break time from RFP writing. RFPs are only so exciting. Even when you have the Sweden-Paraguay game in the upper left hand corner of your screen. Time to talk about our washer.

You see, it was installed last Thursday. We didn't have the venting for the power cord for the dryer until Monday so we didn't use the washer until then because we didn't feel like hanging our clothes all over the house to dry them. Monday night, I go to Home Depot and buy the venting and the power cord, go home, and install them. Everything is now hooked up. Time to test these beauties out. I load the washer and Liz and I both pull up chairs to watch. It's beautiful. A proud moment in our family. No quarters. We watch for five minutes and then proceed about our business.

Thirty minutes later I hear an awful racket. I go upstairs and the washer is shaking violently and dancing across the floor. I shut it off and Liz and I get out the manuals to figure out what the deal is. The manuals tell us to get out a level and use the adjustable legs to make sure it is balanced. Move the washer, get out the level, adjust many legs, and sit back. The shimmying doesn't stop. Frustration begins to set in. Liz leaves a message with the guy who installed it, who agrees to come over.

He comes over the next day and levels the washer some more and leaves. Liz calls me about 30 minutes later and yells over the din that the washer is chasing her around the kitchen. She's determined to wash our clothes and has thrown her body on top of it in order to stop the thing. She quickly finds out that she needs to gain at least 200 more pounds before that tactic will work. She's frustrated. I'm frustrated. What's the deal?

This is where the magic of Google comes in. Vibrating, Frigidaire, washer, why? are all entered in. First entry: shipping bolts and plugs must be removed in order to balance the thing. I go home, turn the washer around and guess what?? The guys who installed the washer didn't follow the directions. The bolts and plugs are still there. I unscrew them, push the washer back into place, and put it on spin only. What a beautiful, quiet sound. I'm so excited that I call Liz, who happens to be out buying us a new phone (VTech phones are horrible by the way) and put the phone to the washer. We both squeal with delight. Happy times. No more rabid washers.

Things I Require Immediately

- Shelving for all of my books. Playing my PSP every day on BART is getting a little old. I need variety.

- A newspaper subscription. WSJ, NYT, or SFC? I'm leaning toward the WSJ.

- A tri-bike. I have a helmet, shoes, cleats, and shorts. Now I just need the bike. Hopefully Thursday works out.

- A new right index finger. This tiny mouse is just not working out.

- A new mouse.

- A BBQ.

- A 4 day, no make that 3 day, workweek.

- A place to stay at Yosemite the weekend of July 22. How can every cabin and every tent be sold out?

- An Xbox 360.

- A larger trash can, but just for two weeks. I need to get rid of all of this moving trash.

- For either Zane and his running stroller to lose about 70 pounds or for that hill up to Marchbanks to not be so steep.

- The ability to wake up at 4:15am. It's just not happening right now.

3043 in 62

That's with a 12 hour stop in Cheyenne. We had to stop to watch the Suns game. It was a sad series. The Suns lost three of those four games headed into the fourth quarter with a lead. Live by the jump shot, die by the jump shot and a big freaking German. With a 2005 Amare, it would have been a different story. Here's hoping that Amare's microfracture surgery has a different result than every other athlete who has had the surgery. Something tells me to expect the worst or at the least, only 80% of what we had.

So Long

and thanks for all the fish.

Feedback? Please.

I'm finished, right? I have my MBA. The grades are in. I achieved the GPA I was targeting. New job. New location. Everything is peachy, right? No, everything is not alright. And let me tell you why, I have not yet received any feedback on the cleverest group project I've ever been a part of. When I say clever, I mean, wow, I wish I would have thought of that clever and just so you know, I didn't think of it. I usually am not the one with the clever idea. I'm the one that takes the clever idea and teases it out, asks the tough questions, and finds a way to fit everything together. I'm also pretty witty (and humble), as evidenced by my paper on the death of globalization vis-a-vis Rod Stewart, but hey, I'm not here to sing my own praises. I'm here looking for feedback on an idea that wasn't mine, but that still has my name somewhat associated with it.

The class: Game Theory with Adam Brandenburger (the brilliant strategist that co-wrote Co-opetition).

The assignment (55% of our grade): group project defining a situation and how to use game theory to solve it.

Our specific project: a paper on how game theory is used in group projects (I'm giggling right now as I write this. I mean, is that clever or what??)

Our base approach: Usage of a decision tree to show that when a group project is assigned, it should never be completed.

Our solution: Usage of added value to calculate the willingness to pay and opportunity costs of each participant in the project.

I won't bore you with all of the details, but I must say, that was an entertaining project. We're not going to bore the professor with nuclear arms races or what should Google do next. Nope. We're going to talk about how group projects suck, nobody likes doing them, and how they eventually are completed.

Yes, there is a small part of me that will miss this.

Delivered to the Curb

Who knew that buying a washer and dryer could be so thrilling? Not just one of those hook me up to the sink washers or a dryer that takes five hours to dry one towel or worse, going to the laundromat, which we did for years in Brooklyn, but a real washer and dryer. Just take a look at this beauty. I won't even need to go to the garage or put in quarters.



And the corresponding dryer.



Maybe I'm confusing my excitement for these appliances with my overall excitement at our new adventure, but whatever it is, what a rush.

The Irony

Nothing like reading an article like this on the train two days after graduating. If only I'd known. Well, at least I was able to wear sweet purple robes for a day.

It Is Finished

CA

Mission accomplished, thanks to our friends the Wheelers. I neglected to take a picture of the most important part of my house finding trip, but I will leave this with you instead. Stop wasting your time with blizzards. Cherry Mr. Misty Float please.



Our new home. Well, not exactly, but close enough.



A new friend?



Pt. Reyes



Marin County has cheese factories. The deal was sealed.

Legs of Steel

My legs have the beginnings of that iron feel to them. Richard, there is no way in hell you'll ever beat me in a race. Maybe if you go Tonya Harding on me. Otherwise, keep looking at my back, 'cause that's all you're ever going to see. BTW, I'm officially challenging you to the Olympic distance of the St. George Triathalon, 2007. I know, I know, I don't have a bike and haven't ridden one in over 10 years, so what. Let's race. My friends, who organize the race, have already been told that we will be racing to the death. The death. I should probably start swimming again too. Wait, can we make it just a run?

JP, you can join in the fun as well. May, 2007.

St. George Tri

Whoa Nelly!

I couldn't let a whole month go by without entertaining you. That just wouldn't be neighborly and it appears that where we are going (sshh, don't tell my current employer. I'm going to surprise them in a couple of weeks. Probably right after I get the welcome package. I hope it includes balloons and a clown.) ahem, ok, it appears that where we are going, being neighborly is very important. In Bronxville, neighborliness - not so important. Aside from our next door neighbors, who happen to own a dry cleaning business. I am going to miss the neighbor discount and my clothes magically appearing on my doorstep. Having to drive to pick up my clothes doesn't sound like fun. Wait, who am I kidding. It'll be Liz picking up my 25 shirts, including the three new pink ones. Yes, I feel like a beautiful butterfly.

In Brooklyn, being neighborly was also not very important, especially in our first Brooklyn apartment. Did I ever tell you about the time I left my building in South South Park Slope just in time to witness the SWAT team, battering ram in tow, crash through the building three buildings down? How about the mariachi band and their 50 cousins that lived upstairs from us for the first six months? Or what about the time they had the hugest party, then unexpectedly left the place, but left their trash, all 20 bags of it, sitting on their landing, thus stinking up the entire building? Or the time that someone's female products clogged up the pipes in the basement, thus causing the basement to flood with raw sewage? Or the hallway being under construction for the first six months? Or the fact that I could place a ball at one end of the apartment and watch it roll across four rooms and two doors to the other end of the apartment due to the funhouse-like tilt? How about the said neighbors banging on my door at 2am because they couldn't get to sleep because my ceiling fan was too loud (hello, mariachi band)? And my personal favorite, the time the entire kitchen ceiling collapsed due to a pipe in the kitchen upstairs breaking. Oh, yes, we had visitors due in town a day later.

Good times. I'm going to miss this place.