Not in Kansas Anymore (part 1 of many)

I was warned when I moved here to Seattle that the people here were quite different from the Midwest. I haven't seen much of that, but then again, I pretty much stick to my apartment, my office, the gym, and Costco. Most everyone I've met has seemed pretty much like folks I knew in KC. So I decided to look up the Seattle newspaper online to see if I could find some examples of what they were talking about.

Well, this was the lead story. (give it a read, but just a quick one)

My favorite part was about the bicyclists who were "strutting their stuff" to "draw dependence to oil dependency." I'm sure that if anyone came across one of these chilly riders the first thing to cross their mind would absolutely be our frightening dependence on foreign oil.

Also, the line about "per se not illegal" was a bit (a lot) surprising.

So yeah, I guess some things are different here.

Attn Patron(s): Please Shower Before Entering the Gym

There are people out there who exercise at private clubs, some of them do it to maintain peak fitness, some do it just to oogle (is that a word?) at a few of the others exerciserists (definitely not a word), and most do it way less often and with way less vigor than they should (HTF).  See I know this because I do, in fact, go to the gym on occasion.  Yesterday I was making sure the elliptical unit I was on was doing actual ellipsis when a guy got on the machine next to me.  You know that in these rooms they always have the equipment close together.  I gave him the obligatory head nod acknowledging that he had entered the area and that I welcomed him in as non-committal a way as possible. 

It should be noted, that almost by definition, rooms full of people sweating from exertion probably shouldn't be expected to smell like when you walk through the perfume area of the department store in the mall.  But I'm telling you, after 2 minutes with this guy next to me I was grimacing and gasping for air that I didn't want to breath in because his scent had made the area uninhabitable by oxygen consuming organisms. 

Dude stunk.

So after 6 entire minutes on the machine I made my way to a vacant treadmill, one on the other side of the room.  I'm good with people stinking after they exercise, but they shouldn't stink before the heart rate cranks up.

Trust me, I made strong mental and olfactory notes (involuntarily) of what the fella looked/smelled like, and he won't be greeted as kindly the next time he mounts the machine next to me.

Strikes Con Queso

You may have done something cool tonight.  Perhaps you watched something good on TV, maybe you went to the gym, possibly you even walked on the moon.  Well, I got you beat, because, with my new work group, I ate unhealthy appetizers and went bowling.  Why do those things go together, always?  Oh yeah, and I guess it should be pointed out that most everyone else in the "alley" was complementing their no-tread shoes on a slippery floor by downing stabilizing glasses of beer.

Let it be known that I am a master of bowling in much the same way that I'm a much sought after expert in hair care products, although I may have forgotten a few things since male-pattern baldness kicked in at the age of 19.  I have heard the snickers (and tonight I sensed them from a crowd too polite to give sound to their thoughts) as others marvel at my bowling "form."  (emphasis on the "air quotes")  Yeah, I'm pretty bad.

So here I sit with a bit of a blister on my toe and I'm actually slightly sore.  Pitiful, I know.  Still, a good time was had by all, including the HTF.  An odd thing with bowling is - we pay money, probably too much, to roll a ball.  To roll a ball?!  To roll a ball while we wear funny shoes . . . that we also pay for.  It's understandable that we get distracted by cheesy-fries and mozzarella sticks.  Some make little funny jokes about bowling.  But we've all done it and we'll do it again.  These are the relics of "culture" - and culture is always better with a little cheese on top.

Glossy Ads and Pessimism

I opened my mailbox today at my temporary apartment and was overwhelmed by a deluge of glossy ads proclaiming that certain politicians would certainly make everyone instantly wealthy and their competitors were against children, puppies, and world peace.  Like most of you I'm kinda fried on politics right now.  But I'm a guy living alone who also happens to be a political junkie - so absent stories about my kids, I'm left to blog about the reality TV that is the 12 year-long presidential election that's about to end.  The "media" are helping us all make informed decisions by being perfectly impartial third-parties dedicated to providing absolutely untainted facts equally supporting both sides.  This was demonstrated while I was in the gym a couple days ago (true story) - I was kickin' it on the treadmill and I looked up at the big TVs in the room.  Here were the two "breaking news stories":

CNN - "Obama is surging in the polls and pulling ahead"

Fox - "McCain is surging in the polls and closing the gap"

I deeply appreciated the clarity from the talking heads. 

Since I voted yesterday via absentee ballot, I care somehow even less about what's being said on the tube.  (not that that'll stop me from watching)  Politics kicks up so much emotion and hipocracy - I'm guilty of both I'm sure.  It'll be quite interesting to see what 90% of voters have to do when there's no W in the White House to vilify.  It'll be a big shift for many people to not have someone to just be AGAINST - they'll have to be FOR something. 

For instance, I know many people who helped beat the drums FOR the war (or at least didn't oppose it in any way noticeable to themselves) and woke up one day totally AGAINST it and the once very-popular president.  It's hard to root for a losing team, especially in politics and college football.  So one way or another about half of us will be happy on Tues night and half will have a new somebody to be against.  I think we need more people who are optimistic about government, cuz based on like 98.5% of my conversations with folks about politics in the last three years, it's tough to get more pessimistic.  And I have yet to see pessimism really ever help people accomplish much.

Also, maybe someday I'll get something good in the mail.

On Two-Years Rest . . . again

I haven't been much for blogging the last few days, so I'm going with the ultimate cop-out - a re-post. (is that a word?) In the spirit of self-deprecation (the opposite of what we here from our humble presidential candidates) I give you this post from Dec 8, 2006:

So a few days ago I went and tried, stressing that word, to play full-court basketball for the first time in a long while. Going in there with almost two year's rest I assumed I'd totally dominate. Actually, I set the bar a little lower - being able to walk again within 3-4 days would be a stunning success, but I was content with survival. I stretched and jogged around a little bit before we started - this part went marvelously. I even made a few shots in the warm up. Then we began . . . Now let me say in all fairness, I can do 3-4 miles on the treadmill without much struggle, it's not like I'm totally hopeless or anything. But after roughly 2 minutes of play, all of my cells, except for 3 or 4 of 'em, were on fire. I was huffing and puffing so hard I was afraid I was gonna do structural damage to the building. At one point the guy I was guarding got an outlet pass and went flying down the court towards his goal. Now I knew exactly what I needed to do, I just needed to run him down and get in front of him. He had a little head start, but I knew I could catch him . . . At least my mind knew it. With literally no one around me I took two quick steps towards him . . . I was off to the races, or so I thought. Then, like some kind of drunk panda bear, the top half of my body kept moving in the direction I wanted it to, but the feet were quite content to be stationary. I fell flat on my face at midcourt, skidded to an ugly halt, and my guy scored. A thing of beauty. It's rough to spontaneously fall down on your face, all alone, for no apparent reason. All the guys were good enough to not say anything to me about it, but there was no need - any semblance of pride in my hoops prowess is gone. I'll keep going back though. The moral of the story: I should've probably stretched more or at least have worn protective gear with an oxygen mask.

Today's Photo Quiz . . .

One of these is the pretty girl I was lucky enough to marry . . . Can you point her out?

Tropical Storm Traci and My Wrinked-Up Toes

I've blogged repeatedly about the athletic prowess of the Mrs. HTF. Well she had her latest jaw-dropping performance over the weekend. On Saturday morning Traci competed in her very first triathlon, well, . . . sorta. Let me explain. Like many of you we've been building arks here in KC for the last few days. The rain just seems to keep coming. On Saturday morning we ventured out to the park where the event was to take place hoping that the rain would hold off. Well, as far as a dry morning, . . . not so much. Traci arrived at like 5 AM for the 7:45 AM start. I followed closely behind after dropping off the troops at our saintly friend's home and arrived at 7:10. Thank goodness there was a red umbrella in the minivan because it poured the entire time we were there, unless you count the 30 seconds before we got in the car to go home later that morning.

To our chagrin (a word I need to use more often) the bicycle portion of the triathlon was canceled due to the rain. I suggested they bring in stationary bikes, but I guess that was too much effort. So we were left with a swim and a run. The whole scene was pretty funny, unless you were, you know, in it. Husbands, boyfriends, parents, and supportive toddlers were huddled under overwhelmed umbrellas pretending they were glad to be there cheering-on their ladies. When in fact we all wished that the triathlon, turned biathlon (without the guns), would become a NO-athlon. But those are some tough ladies. By tough, I mean that half of them could've tossed me 30 feet into the lake and the other half would've had no trouble beating my Honda in a 3 mile race. As the race went on I made very communicative eye contact with some other supportive husbands. Some of the messages sent with raised eye-brows and headnods were:

- Can you believe we're standing here in the pouring rain in 6 inches of mud watching people swim in a lake, on purpose, when we could be home watching College Game Day on ESPN?!

or

- I'm wetter than my wife, and she's swimming in a lake!

But we all made it. Traci was amazing, no shocker at all. Leading up to it I was not allowed to tell people that she was "training for a triathlon." So instead I pointed out that she was swimming, biking, and running multiple times a week on the odd chance that she'd need to do these three things back to back to back at some point in the future. She's strong at downplaying expectations. After the race she made us hang around waiting for the results to be posted. She also got in line to get a massage. This left me to stoically hold my red umbrella and pretend I was happy to not be on my couch, dry. It was at this point that I experienced a quite lonely moment - as a muscle guy with long flowing hair gave the Mrs. HTF a thorough massage and I wasn't about to make small talk with any of the other folks in the area, 104% of which were women being watched closely by husbands/boyfriends, who like me, were unsure of how to function normally surrounded by that much estrogen. By my count the massage lasted just under two weeks and they finally had the awards ceremony. Traci took FIFTH PLACE in her age bracket (out of 42 women) and EIGHTEENTH overall (out of 253 women). So I continue to be in awe of this mother of four. I just hope next time I get to root her on in a tropical storm I get to watch from the comfort of my dry ark.

Why the Silent Sports?!

Dear HTF:

I was watching the men’s beach volleyball last night (can you tell I haven’t gotten much done lately?) and noticed how pumped up the crowd was and really “into” the game (then figured out later it was the bikini girls’ dancing that probably did it). Then I thought about how that’s usually the case (the crowd – not the dancing), except for only two other sports: tennis and golf. Those are the only competitions where the spectators are actually “shushed” during play – and this is accepted by the crowd. I’ve been to a couple tennis matches, and you can’t even go to your seat while they’re playing – you just stand there until there’s a break in play. Kind of like if you’re late to a show at The Music Hall and have to wait until intermission to find your seat (an excellent policy, IMO). I believe there was even one incident when Tiger Woods jumped all over somebody for being too noisy during his tee-off – I think they were taking pictures and the noise bothered him.

Hockey, basketball, baseball, volleyball, football, soccer etc. all have these hugely LOUD crowds – even gymnastics for Heaven’s sake – talk about needing concentration! But at the U.S. Open or Wimbledon you can practically hear a pin drop during play….odd, don’t you think? (and don’t pull the “that’s because those are more civilized sports” excuse…PUH-LEASE!!)

CM

The short answer to your question is "that's because they're more civilized sports." But I'm just guessing that's not what you wanted to hear. There are a couple real reasons that people are asked to be so quiet during golf games:

1. Before public profanity became so socially acceptable, golf games were the one place where people could go to learn all the new cuss words and phrases from the golf participants. But sometimes those are muttered under people's breath, so extreme silence is necessary. We've unwittingly carried on this tradition.

2. So the people attentively watching at home on TV can sleep.

As for tennis the major driver here is so that the audience can hear the very odd grunting sounds perfected by Monica Seles. Check out this actual information about her from Wikipedia:

"1992 was an equally dominant year. Seles successfully defended her titles at the Australian Open, the French Open, and the US Open. She also reached the final at Wimbledon but lost to Graf in the final 6–2, 6–1. Some observers, however, attributed her lop-sided loss to her decision to remain silent throughout the match, resulting in less penetrating shots. Two opponents (including Navratilova in the semifinals) had strongly complained about Seles's grunting".

Need I say more? (also, the same reasons for silent golf above apply to tennis)

Thanks for the question, CM!

This Just In - Toddler Gymnasts, VP Choices, and Beer Bucks

I'm fighting the urge to blog about all the important current events going on in the world today, such as:

- Apparently my pre-kindergarten daughters can compete on the Chinese gymnastic team
- Barak "I'm only slightly less famous than Michael Phelps" Obama announced that he was going to declare his VP choice via text message. So maybe a year from now we can declare war on Iran by leaving a post on Mahmoud Ahmadinejad's Facebook page.
- It was announced today that Anheuser-Busch CEO, August Busch IV (a good name for a rock band) will be paid $10 million after the company is acquired by InBev. In a shocking announcement he revealed that the acquisition was a "good idea."
- Women's beach volleyball is being shown in primetime and somehow is attracting (pun intended) an attentive male audience.
- It is rumored that both the Republican and the Democratic nominees will be announcing their VP choices very soon, and they will both be choosing Michael Phelps. A McCain spokesperson was quoted as saying, "Mike is on a roll, and we'd like to 'swim in that relay' if you know what I mean."

I'll go ahead and stop fighting that urge now. Any questions?

Olympic Addiction in Full Bloom

It's just hard not to blog a bit about the Olympics tonight. My day started by watching USA basketball make Spain look muy estupido and it just ended by watching the 100M men's final where a guy named Nuts N. Bolts or something broke the world record and actually cheered himself on before the race was even over. That probably made the guys he was smoking feel good. Oh yeah, that Phelps guy got that 8th gold medal. I did let out a little cheer at the end of his relay. Imagine if they would've just gotten the silver - people would've been talking about the BIG DISAPPOINTMENT. I tip my sombrero to him though - may well be the biggest sports feat of all time - if you take don't consider when Redskins QB Gus Frerotte gave himself a concussion after head butting a wall while celebrating a touchdown. I'm not sure what NBC will do now that they probably need to talk about somebody other than Michael Phelps or his mother every once in a while for the rest of the Olympics. In between those big events I used the fast forward button on the DVR to catch some of the less popular sports like:

- Badminton: In the gold medal match two Chinese women slapped that birdie around impressively. I remember playing this in junior high gym class - I just don't remember anyone fantasizing about going pro.
- Women's Shotput: I had to watch for several minutes before I was clear on the gender of the folks chucking the little ball of lead, which I can see weighs more than any of the female gymnasts. These young ladies open their own jars at home!
- Rowing: I think it's called "sculling" or something officially. Either way, if you have a boat with a questionable motor, I'd bring along one of these guys and a couple paddles. Pretty sure you could water ski behind one of these teams.
- Women's Marathon: This has to be one of the toughest events to televise. It's 2.5 hours of people just running. Not sure even the best color commentator in the world could keep the attention of an audience for that long. Thank goodness for the fast forward on the DVR. Still, I did get chills when the lady who won entered the stadium for the last lap. I get tired just driving the minivan 26 miles . . .

There was more, but those were some of the highlights that came to mind. I was in denial for a few days, but I'm embracing my Olympic addiction now. I'm also speculating that they have a body double for Bob Costas or at least some really good CGI guys, cuz he's always on . . . but not as much as Michael Phelps.

PS - E-mail me your olympic questions or comments, guaranteed you'll get a response on the blog which you may or may not like.

Webbed Feet and Overexposure

We have the first response to my little plea for questions/feedback a couple of posts ago (and in less than 24 hours). Pretty soon I'm sure I'll be pouring through the mailbag, but huge hat tip (a fedora no less) to AGM. Here is her timely question:

I found your Olympic comments very insightful & thought I would write you for advice. I have this addiction to Olympic coverage, but I find myself rooting against Michael Phelps and for Ryan Lochte instead because I have an incapacitating case of Phelpsfatigue. Do others have this problem? I find myself turning the channel whenever NBC does yet another profie of him. Am I un-American, jealous, and/or mean because I think that Michael Phelps is an egotistical, spotlight loving, crazed, mutant half-man-half-fish instead of an Olympic hero? Can't he just spread the wealth a little more & give others a chance? Also, I read that he has flippers instead of feet. If that is true, where can I get some?

Signed,

I Honestly Love Team USA (just not Michael Phelps)

P.S. Can a get the recipe for your warm strawberry compote with fruit fly garnish?

Fair questions. First, I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt that you're not a communist-in-denial. Cuz that would explain much of the sentiment here. That being said, your term "Phelpsfatigue" is a winner. I hope that none of us ever have to watch one of those profiles again where we see that the guy's life consists of sleeping, eating 3,500 calories, swimming, eating 3,000 more calories, spending several more hours at the pool, eating 5,000 more calories, then sleeping again. The message is clear: if we all become unemployed, eat a lot, and hang out at the pool, our lives will be perfect. Also, from the profiles I now know more about his family than I do my own. That's not right. Now I do think you're a little off-base with the insults. There's one way to know though - we need Bob Costas, with deep sincerity, to ask Mikey to let someone else win a race. Phelps's response would be some good reality television. As for the flippers, well, I'm not at liberty to talk too much about it, but let's just say that extreme toe-jam (a good name for a rock band) is not always such a bad thing.
On the recipe question - let's just say that NOTHING could taste good enough to go through what was necessary to make that little treat happen.

Thanks for the questions. May the Webbed-One fade from view a bit.

The Big Blog Update and Insight from Beijing

I've had this ongoing internal debate floating around the melon about what I want to make of this blog thing. I've been posting in spurts for almost 3 years now. There were a few podcasts, which got some ok reviews. I track readership off and on, but I'm not sure that's really the goal. Here's the thing, and this is a recent personal realization, I have this odd secret desire to be some kind of a syndicated columnist. With the blog thing, anybody can do that, so, in spite of lack of writing talent or much interesting to say, I can fake like I'm a Dave Barry or Tom Friedman. I was talking to my friend, BP, about this the other day and mentioned that blogging is an awful cheap and not-to-taxing hobby. I could try to be an astronaut or an olympic gymnast, but being a blogger is a bit more realistic.

I track along with quite a few blogs and podcasts. Many of the blogs I read are "penned" by gals I know, which has made me question a bit if I should really be doing this. One exchange I read on a friends blog - she asked her husband why he never wrote on the blog. His answer - "I'm not a woman." Profound words . . . that gave me some pause. I got over it.

So here's the deal. I'm gonna work to make the blog better and I'm asking for your help. Here's what I'm gonna do: write more, link more, do more. So my goal is to post at least 25 times over the next 30 days. Here's my asks of you:
1. Read along and comment occasionally, maybe even let others know about it
2. E-mail your questions or feedback to henrythefrog@gmail.com (don't expect profound answers - you should expect what you typically see in the blog: sarcasm, cheekiness, and answers that aren't remotely factually correct) I'll answer the questions on the blog. I'll keep you anonymous or just use whatever name you tell me to. This is my attempt to make the thing more interactive. They can be about stuff I often blog about like family, sports, odd observations, etc. Or they can be utterly random, like "which 80's rapper had the biggest ego and/or gold chains?"
I'll still trying to pull off the occasional podcast and that would be a good place to answer some of the questions. BTW - don't put it past me to make up some questions to make it look like more than 2 of you read my blog. :)

I'm off to watch the olympics and I'll leave you with this astounding observation from Doug Collins who was commenting on TV during the USA vs Greece basketball game this morning:
"In a 40 minute game you don't have the same number of minutes as you do in a 48 minute game."
Truer words were never spoken.

My 3-Week Vacation

Well my little blog hiatus is coming up on 3 weeks in a couple days. No real reason for the absence, just found other things to do. And for the first time in a really long time I'm sitting here with no idea at all about what to blog about. So here are just a few quick hits from stuff that's happened since I last blogged:

- We had our 10th Wedding Anniversary - This is an impressive feat of endurance on Traci's part. I'm awfully glad she's hung in there. I'm like her eternal service project. Someday she'll get me just the way she wants. This event also helped make it clear to me that I'm getting older way faster than I'd like. 10 years ago doesn't even seem like that long ago. But it was pre-kids, so that makes it feel like it was in the 1800s.
- As a way to celebrate the aforementioned anniversary we seriously splurged and bought 6th row tickets to Wicked on eBay. It was better than I'd even imagined. Go see it if you haven't already, and invite me to go with you. I promise not to sing along too much.
- Braeden has started baseball games. This provides hours of non-baseball-related entertainment as we watch little boys pretend they know what they're doing, or even care that much. They're far more interested in doing creative things with, well, dirt. More to come on this topic . . .
- I'm playing the piano in primary. Need I really say more. (snicker, snicker)
- Work is really busy. With the recent layoffs my job effectively doubled in scope a few weeks ago. Ah, the joys of working at a struggling company. For now I'm calling it an opportunity.
- Lost (the TV show) just had the first hour of its 3 hour season finale. I LOVE the show, so don't get me wrong. But do we really need a 3 hour finale spread out over 3 weeks?! Why don't we call it a 16-hour finale and have it start in January and wrap up in May?! Sheesh.

I could go on, but if I do it might be 3 more weeks until I blog. To the few of you who have urged me on to get writing again, thanks, . . . I think. Traci just kinda ridiculed me into it. (she does that to get me to do other things too).

Life is grand.

Siberian Soccer

I’m a weather guy. I like following extreme weather – from a safe distance of course. On Saturday morning Ethan had his first soccer game and the forecast looked a little cold. (40 degrees with wind and possible rain – which is pretty weird for KC in mid-April) I declared that I would be the brave parent to go tackle the elements so the Mrs. HTF could stay home with the kiddos. I told Ethan to go get ready and he came bounding down the stairs with his soccer shorts and short-sleeve jersey on. In the aggravating way that parents do, I told him repeatedly that he needed to wear more clothes cuz it was gonna be cold. He rolled his eyes and huffed so hard that he parted my hair . . . or at least would’ve parted my hair if I, you know, had some. He told me how “uncool” (that’s a nice word choice) he’d look wearing sweats and long sleeves. But I was the evil dad who made him bring warm clothes – though he wouldn’t actually put them on.

The second he got out of the Civic at the soccer field he jumped back in and put everything on.

It was FREEZING! The biting northern wind made me wonder if we were somewhere in Canada. He borrowed some gloves and did ok. I was forced to just stand and watch – along with all the other violently shivering parents. At least the kids got to run a little bit. The highlight was when a few little rain drops turned into sleet, and then into “sneet” (that’s a technical term created by me for the cross between snow and sleet) showers being blown at us sideways like we were in a dust storm. At one point it was full-on blizzard-like. I’m not a big soccer aficionado, but there’s no way kids should be playing soccer in weather like this, and I’m certain parents shouldn’t be standing/sitting watching kids play soccer in weather like this. But they trudged on – after the game some kids had to dig their parents out of piles of blankets and coats to let them know that the game was, you know, over. The smart parents stayed in the cars, or in the case of my omniscient wife, sent their spouses to the game. Let me know never be accused of being one of those smart parents! At the height of the icy blizzard I was warmed by a single profound thought –

I’m paying big money for this . . . awesome.

La Locura de Marzo

It's been hard to keep myself from blogging about March Madness. In my last little podcast thing I mentioned it. But I'll restate again, this is the BEST time of the year. Because of other fun things going on I haven't been able to catch as many games as I would've liked. But I'm really happy with how things have played out, with KU especially of course. Each year I get together with 40+ of my friends/family to fill out our brackets to see who the most educated basketball fan is. However, it inevitably ends up that basketball education has little or nothing to do with picking the brackets. That part makes it all the more fun. The Mrs HTF has now beaten me 10 out of the past 11 years. And I don't think she's watched an entire hoops game during that decade plus stretch. Humiliating? yeah, it is. You should read her recent post about the whole thing where she gives her take on it along with some history. She also makes fun of me for using yellow highlighters. I'm in 22nd place and Traci is one freakin' point ahead of me. Incidentally, Ethan (our 8 year old) is in 5th place. I guess we all know who he takes after. Anyway, I hope you all are enjoying the madness. GO JAYHAWKS!!

The Race That Was a Little Too Long

So I've actually been procrastinating blogging about yesterday's race - my first-ever-5K. Once you read about what happened you will understand why. I'll save the juicy story for the end of the post. Read Traci's post here. Based on feedback from many of you, here are few things I've found I need to clarify for my friends out there:

- 5K means 5 kilometers, which is like 3.1 miles. It does not mean 5 miles, and it's certainly not a marathon (26+ miles)
- I'm not in horrific shape or anything. I can play basketball for a three hours at a time and I can keep up with my kids running around outside if I tie their feet together.
- Traci, the Mrs. HTF, is NOT the greatest female athlete ever, but she's in the top 25
- I ran track a little growing up, but only distances 200 meters or less (sprints), mostly because my legs are about the length of your arms, and I figured anything farther than that and I'd get lost or something

I was blown away by all the well-wishes I received from you all and others on Friday. Thanks for that. I'm not convinced you didn't walk away snickering, but I'll take what I can get. On Thursday, Traci and I ran the whole course together. Towards the end I felt like I "had a little left in the tank" so I "sprinted" the last couple blocks leaving her in the dust (rolling her eyes). This part of my story becomes important later.

On the morning of the race I got up, ate a cereal bar or something and we jumped in the Honda. Traci had been up for a while already - she was actually anxious/nervous. (I chuckle) It was warm in our car, but not so much when we got out. I was laughing at all the guys in black spandex until I got out of the car and felt the wind chill on my uncovered legs. I never wanted tights so badly. It was below freezing with the wind chill during our entire race. Awesome . . .

We mulled around a bit and sorta stretched/jogged while we waited for the race to start. It was kinda surreal standing there in a huddled mass of people shivering and hoping that our suffering would hurry up and start cuz we were freaking cold! Although we were standing together when the race started, within literally 5 seconds my lovely wife was 20 yards in front of me. And we stayed that distance apart for the first mile or so. I guess she just didn't want to be seen with me. The first quarter mile was terrifying. I couldn't believe how bad I felt. I later learned that stretching and warming up are good things before a race. Who knew . . . ?!

One thing that I couldn't get over during the race were the "drink stations." I'd seen these on TV and never though twice about 'em. But I'm jogging along and some kind volunteer hands me a dixie cup of Gatorade. Nice, right? Well, I challenge you to run and drink Gatorade out of a cup at the same time. Not possible! I tried and tried - it really got frustrating. In the end I had purple liquid all over my shirt and I was still thirsty. (I'm serious, try it)

Now the part that will live in infamy . . . I had debated whether this was shareable with my little blog audience, but TV cameras caught it, so what the hey. There's a thin line between dignity, pride and confidence. I've chosen to eschew all three of those in sharing this. So remember my little "sprint" at the end of our Thursday run? Well, towards the end of the actual race I decided to do it again. Coach always said to "leave it all on the field" and "give it all you got" and other highly motivational things like that. So I went as hard as I could. The finish line and the throngs of people, cameras, and water bottles were there waiting for me and within sight. But as I pushed hard through the final 30 feet - it hit me. I was . . . done. The knot in my stomach decided it was time to unkink itself and it wasn't gonna wait a moment longer. My legs quit, and as Traci motioned frantically towards the finish line I veered away from the middle of the road towards her standing on the sidewalk (she'd long since finished the race) and there on the side of the road I "revealed to the crowd the contents of my breakfast." I then turned and meekly "ran" the six steps to finish the race - trying to avoid eye contact with anyone.

You may recall that my goal was 30 minutes and I finished in 28:12 and got 10th in my age group. Click here for full results. I was fairly proud of that, but it was nicely tarnished by my little show at the end in front of all the onlookers. Traci did amazing (2nd in her group and a full minute better than a year ago). Will I race again? Yeah. But I definitely learned my lesson. I'll sign up for the 4.95K next time.