The only thing worse than listening to your own breathing while running is listening to 50,000 other people’s breathing.
When I go running I like to immerse myself in my own little world. I like to reflect on things, plan things, and just plain old think. But I hate listening to myself breath when I run. To me it is distracting and boring. I know, I know, most runners say that this is essential for keeping your pace constant and that listening to music is dangerous (other cars, bikes, runners etc.). But I don’t care, I enjoy listening to music and letting my mind wander. It is one of the few times I get to myself to listen to new and old songs and decide what to put on my next CD. Not to mention, it motivates me when I feel myself slowing down.
To this regard, thanks are due to my Bride for the perfect Father’s Day Gift, my new Digital Music Player(new name for it pending). I have been listening to the radio the past few months because my previous player was acting pretty quirky (see The Gadget gods are against me). The radio was OK, I got caught up on news and sports, but morning shows don’t play a lot of music and there is nothing like turning that last mile and hearing a song you like. This new player is great, it is sporty, has an arm band and also has a radio so if I still need to catch up, I can.
Having said all that, I still have a dilemma: The Peachtree Road Race is on Sunday, so I need to come up with a play list. I need songs that are peppy, keep me energized with out making me kill myself and most of all that I like. I have just started to jot a few things down so far, but I’ll try to edit this list later.
1. Run Around- Blues Traveler Fun song that I don’t get sick of and the title fits the theme
2. Song 2- Blur Wahooo! Need I say more
3. Fall Down- Molly’s Yes Great uplifting song…if you have not heard it do your self a favor
4. Born To Run- Bruce Baby we were born to Run…can it be more obvious
5. Run- Collective Soul Well the race is in Atlanta, this song is a requirement
6. Fast as You- Dwight Yoakam A little country
7. Beautiful Day- U2 I always envision the bright lights from the their concert on the chorus…very motivational
Well It’s a start…I have to get hoppin’ though, the race is Sunday.
Monday, June 28, 2004
Sunday, June 27, 2004
Trail Characters
When I go running 4 times a week or so, (if I’m not on the road) my path usually crosses our local trail. You see we have one of those old rail-road paths that have been paved over giving us a great fitness trail that travels some 30 some odd miles. I personally only run about a mile of it if I am working on hill running or 3.1 miles if I am getting some distance in (3.1 up and back). I really enjoy it. It makes running easy without having to worry about cars, or jumping over curbs or ditches. And to me it is easy to just start running and determine how far I will go based on how I am feeling. Then there are all the people you see on the trail.
If you go running on the trail often enough you see the same people over and over. That is part of the charm of the trail. Since I have been running on the trail for years, I have started naming them and wondering about them based on what I have observed for the 10 or 20 seconds that I see them.
Most notable is the ‘Berry-Picker.’ She is a quite normal looking girl who walks the trial often with her dog (I wonder where he is other days…does she share custody of him or does he just say: “I had a rough night, you go on without me”). The strange thing is, she stops all the time and starts picking berries from the trees and bushes along the trail. While as strange as this seems to me, I have come to get used to seeing it. I am even used to seeing her pop them in her mouth. The thing that has me concerned is when she eats the low lying berries. She is not the only one who walks a dog on the trail.
Then there are ‘Unfriendlies.’ One of the unwritten rules of the trail is to wave, smile, nod or say hello as you pass by someone on the trail. Everyone does it, so it seems very noticeable when you don’t. There is this couple that walks together everyday and has great conversations. They are always talking to each other and smiling, until someone walks by. Then they avert their eyes, look at the ground and frown. It is like they are trying to win a bet by not smiling to anyone, but they do it everyday. I have taken upon myself not to give up at trying. I always say “hello” with as much exuberance as I can muster, I try to get a little familiar, “see you tomorrow,” I even commented when the girl switched her hair from brunet to very light blonde, “I like the hair.” All to no avail; they never even look at me.
There is the ‘Competitor’ who runs about the same time as me and at about the same speed. Because we run similarly we don’t see each other too often, usually we cross paths once. But on those rare occasions when we both start out at about close to the same time we push each other. When I start first, I can usually hear feet pounding behind me the whole way and I work hard to keep up the pace, mostly because I don’t want to get beat by a girl (OK so I admit it…but she is in great shape). Other days when she is first, I do my best to pass her.
I also see ‘Visor Lady’ this little old lady who walks about 4 or 5 miles everyday. She walks faster than most people a quarter her age and she is there rain or shine every day.
There is ‘UT’ guy and his friends. He is one of the friendliest people on the trail. I talk to him just about every time I see him. His kid is getting ready to go to Auburn and during football season we always discuss the games. He owns his own business in a similar profession as mine and we share a few customers. From time to time I pass him a leed (although I’m waiting for him to return the favor).
“Cell Phone Girl” is also pretty regular. Every time she walks she is talking on her cell phone the whole time. I always wonder if the person on the other end is walking too. I guess she likes the idea of walking and catching up on her gossip, but none of her friends live near. There are actually quite a few people talking on their cell while they walk, but none as regular or as animated as her.
There are a lot of others on the trail, some not as regular, some only on certain days. There are the soccer moms in their pushing a jogging stroller. There are the young girls in coordinated spandex work-out cloths that make sure that their pony tail swings perfectly from side-to-side. It’s funny how when they go buy the guys all act like the run is just the warm up for he real exercise, like swimming the English Channel (myself included).
I have been running the trail a little less now a days, because I have been trying to get a little hill training for the Peachtree. I’ve also had to run on treadmills at the hotel when I travel. But even when I run hills I make sure I stop by the trail for a bit, just so I can see my friends.
If you go running on the trail often enough you see the same people over and over. That is part of the charm of the trail. Since I have been running on the trail for years, I have started naming them and wondering about them based on what I have observed for the 10 or 20 seconds that I see them.
Most notable is the ‘Berry-Picker.’ She is a quite normal looking girl who walks the trial often with her dog (I wonder where he is other days…does she share custody of him or does he just say: “I had a rough night, you go on without me”). The strange thing is, she stops all the time and starts picking berries from the trees and bushes along the trail. While as strange as this seems to me, I have come to get used to seeing it. I am even used to seeing her pop them in her mouth. The thing that has me concerned is when she eats the low lying berries. She is not the only one who walks a dog on the trail.
Then there are ‘Unfriendlies.’ One of the unwritten rules of the trail is to wave, smile, nod or say hello as you pass by someone on the trail. Everyone does it, so it seems very noticeable when you don’t. There is this couple that walks together everyday and has great conversations. They are always talking to each other and smiling, until someone walks by. Then they avert their eyes, look at the ground and frown. It is like they are trying to win a bet by not smiling to anyone, but they do it everyday. I have taken upon myself not to give up at trying. I always say “hello” with as much exuberance as I can muster, I try to get a little familiar, “see you tomorrow,” I even commented when the girl switched her hair from brunet to very light blonde, “I like the hair.” All to no avail; they never even look at me.
There is the ‘Competitor’ who runs about the same time as me and at about the same speed. Because we run similarly we don’t see each other too often, usually we cross paths once. But on those rare occasions when we both start out at about close to the same time we push each other. When I start first, I can usually hear feet pounding behind me the whole way and I work hard to keep up the pace, mostly because I don’t want to get beat by a girl (OK so I admit it…but she is in great shape). Other days when she is first, I do my best to pass her.
I also see ‘Visor Lady’ this little old lady who walks about 4 or 5 miles everyday. She walks faster than most people a quarter her age and she is there rain or shine every day.
There is ‘UT’ guy and his friends. He is one of the friendliest people on the trail. I talk to him just about every time I see him. His kid is getting ready to go to Auburn and during football season we always discuss the games. He owns his own business in a similar profession as mine and we share a few customers. From time to time I pass him a leed (although I’m waiting for him to return the favor).
“Cell Phone Girl” is also pretty regular. Every time she walks she is talking on her cell phone the whole time. I always wonder if the person on the other end is walking too. I guess she likes the idea of walking and catching up on her gossip, but none of her friends live near. There are actually quite a few people talking on their cell while they walk, but none as regular or as animated as her.
There are a lot of others on the trail, some not as regular, some only on certain days. There are the soccer moms in their pushing a jogging stroller. There are the young girls in coordinated spandex work-out cloths that make sure that their pony tail swings perfectly from side-to-side. It’s funny how when they go buy the guys all act like the run is just the warm up for he real exercise, like swimming the English Channel (myself included).
I have been running the trail a little less now a days, because I have been trying to get a little hill training for the Peachtree. I’ve also had to run on treadmills at the hotel when I travel. But even when I run hills I make sure I stop by the trail for a bit, just so I can see my friends.
Friday, June 25, 2004
MIA
Well I have been letting that pesky work get in the way of my Blogging….what was I thinking. Well no whit today, just a few updates.
For Father’s Day I went to surprise my Dad. My wife, daughter and I few down to Tampa and stayed at my sisters on Thursday. Then my sister had arranged to meet my parents for breakfast and when they walked in…tada. Well actually it was a heck of a lot more difficult than that; between arranging a car so that we could fit a car seat and our luggage and just managing a flight with a not-yet-two-year-old girl. But it all worked out and we had a great weekend.
I spent the weekend on my parents boat, in the pool, at my parents club, in the pool…hey who was this present for anyway. My wife and I both freaked out to be able to eat at the same time while my parents watched Ainsley (those of you without kids: The day your child learns to walk is the last day you and your spouse eat at the same time).
Well I’ll be a better blogger in the next few days now that my personal and work travel schedule had calmed down.
For Father’s Day I went to surprise my Dad. My wife, daughter and I few down to Tampa and stayed at my sisters on Thursday. Then my sister had arranged to meet my parents for breakfast and when they walked in…tada. Well actually it was a heck of a lot more difficult than that; between arranging a car so that we could fit a car seat and our luggage and just managing a flight with a not-yet-two-year-old girl. But it all worked out and we had a great weekend.
I spent the weekend on my parents boat, in the pool, at my parents club, in the pool…hey who was this present for anyway. My wife and I both freaked out to be able to eat at the same time while my parents watched Ainsley (those of you without kids: The day your child learns to walk is the last day you and your spouse eat at the same time).
Well I’ll be a better blogger in the next few days now that my personal and work travel schedule had calmed down.
Thursday, June 17, 2004
Dad's Day
Airplane!
Well Father’s Day is on the way and that got me thinking. This is my second Father’s Day as a Dad, which means nothing to my daughter. At this age the burden of Father’s Day falls to Mom, (who by the way bought me a certain little MP3 player I have been wanting and had some great pictures taken (see above)). I’m sure there will be a time when my daughter actually understands the meaning of it and appreciates it. But let’s be real…she better get Mother’s Day first. Right now all I have to do to be a good Dad in my Daughter’s eyes is make sure her shorts are clean and swing her around and throw her up in the air every now and then.
My Dad was an Airline Pilot and after everyone got over the “cool, do you fly for free” question they always said, “it must suck having him gone all the time.” Well not really. I mean don’t get me wrong, he didn’t always make my birthday party and I never knew when Christmas was (24th…27th, something like that). However, when he was home – He was home.
It was great. We would wake up in the morning to find Dad, who was still on Tokyo time, had been up for an hour making us the most lavish breakfast. He was so eager to talk to us we would be late to school. Then in the summer, he would be home in the middle of the week (all the other Dad’s had to work) and he would wake us up telling us we were going out on the boat that day. Of course there was also the travel. I remember coming home from college for Christmas break and my Dad asking me if I wanted to go Frankfort and Paris. Just imagine my answer to: “So what did you do over winter break?”
So, anyways…I hope I do as good of job with my daughter that my parents did with me. As for my Dad I’m giving him a Father’s Day Gift I know he is going to love. More details next week.
Tuesday, June 15, 2004
The Bug Dance
Well I went running today (OK I guess jogging better describes what I do) and I am settling into a pretty good system now. Generally I am running 4 days a week and sticking to a routine I like:
Monday: about a 5 mile run with limited hills
Tuesday and Wednesday: about a 4 mile run with hills
Thursday: a day of rest
Friday: a combination of the two about 5 or more mile run with some hills
Then I take the weekend off. It is a fun system for me, building up then taking the time off. I hope it will get me in good shape for the Peachtree Road Race.
My route takes me through a little bit of a wooded area, so when I got home and sat down to check my e-mail; I wasn’t too freaked out to find a little spider crawling up my let. I grabbed it with a Kleenex and threw it in the trash can under my desk. Well a few minuets later I felt something crawling up my leg again and I’ll be damned if it wasn’t the same spider. Only this time I knew that it wasn’t a little spider, but a tic. It had escaped the Kleenex and hopped onto my leg (I checked). If you have ever tried to kill a tic, you know that the gentle squish that you give to a spider does nothing to a tic. Now I was a little freaked out. Every time I even think I feel something on my leg I immediately look and scratch and check the floor around me. That has been happening about every 5 minuets all day.
Jerry Seinfeld used to do a joke about what people looked like from a distance after they walked through a spider web. I always think of that when I remember the time I ran over a yellow jacket nest with the lawn mower. I’m mowing along as I feel a slight sting on my leg, then my back, then my thigh (over 10 in all). I start flicking them off my leg as I worry about the one that just flew up my shorts. Next thing you know I run towards the house, arms and legs flailing, shedding clothing, making noises like a little girl (AAAAAAAYYYIIIIIEEEEEE!!!!!!!!). I wonder what someone would have thought if they looked out the window at just the right moment: “What the…Is that some kind of a dance?”
By the way, if you have never been stung by a yellow jacket, consider yourself lucky. They are much worse than a bee or hornet, not to mention you usually have more than just one sting. Well I just checked the trashcan again after vigorously showering and I don’t think I see the tic. I guess its time to take that trash out and resume the bug dance again. What was that?
Monday: about a 5 mile run with limited hills
Tuesday and Wednesday: about a 4 mile run with hills
Thursday: a day of rest
Friday: a combination of the two about 5 or more mile run with some hills
Then I take the weekend off. It is a fun system for me, building up then taking the time off. I hope it will get me in good shape for the Peachtree Road Race.
My route takes me through a little bit of a wooded area, so when I got home and sat down to check my e-mail; I wasn’t too freaked out to find a little spider crawling up my let. I grabbed it with a Kleenex and threw it in the trash can under my desk. Well a few minuets later I felt something crawling up my leg again and I’ll be damned if it wasn’t the same spider. Only this time I knew that it wasn’t a little spider, but a tic. It had escaped the Kleenex and hopped onto my leg (I checked). If you have ever tried to kill a tic, you know that the gentle squish that you give to a spider does nothing to a tic. Now I was a little freaked out. Every time I even think I feel something on my leg I immediately look and scratch and check the floor around me. That has been happening about every 5 minuets all day.
Jerry Seinfeld used to do a joke about what people looked like from a distance after they walked through a spider web. I always think of that when I remember the time I ran over a yellow jacket nest with the lawn mower. I’m mowing along as I feel a slight sting on my leg, then my back, then my thigh (over 10 in all). I start flicking them off my leg as I worry about the one that just flew up my shorts. Next thing you know I run towards the house, arms and legs flailing, shedding clothing, making noises like a little girl (AAAAAAAYYYIIIIIEEEEEE!!!!!!!!). I wonder what someone would have thought if they looked out the window at just the right moment: “What the…Is that some kind of a dance?”
By the way, if you have never been stung by a yellow jacket, consider yourself lucky. They are much worse than a bee or hornet, not to mention you usually have more than just one sting. Well I just checked the trashcan again after vigorously showering and I don’t think I see the tic. I guess its time to take that trash out and resume the bug dance again. What was that?
Thursday, June 10, 2004
The Change game… (Caution rant ahead)
I’m Traveling again and that means hotel rooms (smoking room without high speed internet access as opposed to their advertisement) and all of the fun that goes with strange towns. Actually I enjoy traveling, I mean this trip is an exception (I think I’m going to have words with the manager about deceptive advertising), most of the time you see new places, meet new people and get to spend time catching up on your reading. While traveling there is no trash to take out, no laundry to get done, but there is work and all of the troubles that go with life on the road. Delayed flights, boring car rides, rude people and high speed runs through airports are just some of the things you encounter on your way to your destination.
But the thing is I’ve gotten good at it. I’ve even come to take pride in the fact I’m good at it. Of course I have had a lot of training. My Dad was an airline pilot; so when other kids were driving that summer to the state park…we were off to Europe (after all it was the same cost to us). So I learned the art of travel. Negotiating through airports, trains, maps and taxis in foreign countries. I’ve gotten to know London, Paris and Frankfort as well as most people know their grandparents home town.
So without a doubt I have the travel bug. Neighbors ask me where to park at the airport. Friends ask the best hotel to stay when in Boston, New York or Charleston. And I usually know the answer. But with being good at traveling also comes a little bit of annoyance with those who are not. People in Airports who try to impress others with their knowledge of airplanes (when they don’t have a clue) bug me. People who walk out of airplanes and just stop, oblivious to the rest of the departing passengers bug me. People who don’t know the ‘stand to the right, walk to the left’ rule when on escalators and moving walkways bug me.
But most of all, in the post 9/11 age, people who delay, don’t understand and unnecessarily complain about security bug me. Most people stand in the security line for hours, not even thinking about what is to come; then almost act surprised as they slowly empty their pockets. They place their coins, cell phones, gum, shoes, keys, watches, rings, PDA’s, beer tabs (how did that get there), lipstick, and everything else in their pockets into a bin (one bin for each item, it seems). While I, who have placed everything metal in my briefcase (take note…this is the proper thing to do…put it into your bag…you have the whole line to put it in there and the whole rest of the trip to get it out…do we really need to watch you count your change into individual bins…), wait for my turn to go through the line. And they wonder why the line takes so long.
Of course my obsession with being a seasoned traveler is not without its own faults. I finally emptied the pocket of my suitcase that I always put my pocket change into. I could have paid off a small nation’s debt. I’m wondering how I carried that bag around without noticing the extra 34 lbs. worth of change. The jingling noise alone should have been deafening. Well at least traveling will be easier now that I have gotten rid of that extra weight. Now maybe I can use the money to buy some internet access at a Starbucks…or maybe I could just buy a small phone company.
But the thing is I’ve gotten good at it. I’ve even come to take pride in the fact I’m good at it. Of course I have had a lot of training. My Dad was an airline pilot; so when other kids were driving that summer to the state park…we were off to Europe (after all it was the same cost to us). So I learned the art of travel. Negotiating through airports, trains, maps and taxis in foreign countries. I’ve gotten to know London, Paris and Frankfort as well as most people know their grandparents home town.
So without a doubt I have the travel bug. Neighbors ask me where to park at the airport. Friends ask the best hotel to stay when in Boston, New York or Charleston. And I usually know the answer. But with being good at traveling also comes a little bit of annoyance with those who are not. People in Airports who try to impress others with their knowledge of airplanes (when they don’t have a clue) bug me. People who walk out of airplanes and just stop, oblivious to the rest of the departing passengers bug me. People who don’t know the ‘stand to the right, walk to the left’ rule when on escalators and moving walkways bug me.
But most of all, in the post 9/11 age, people who delay, don’t understand and unnecessarily complain about security bug me. Most people stand in the security line for hours, not even thinking about what is to come; then almost act surprised as they slowly empty their pockets. They place their coins, cell phones, gum, shoes, keys, watches, rings, PDA’s, beer tabs (how did that get there), lipstick, and everything else in their pockets into a bin (one bin for each item, it seems). While I, who have placed everything metal in my briefcase (take note…this is the proper thing to do…put it into your bag…you have the whole line to put it in there and the whole rest of the trip to get it out…do we really need to watch you count your change into individual bins…), wait for my turn to go through the line. And they wonder why the line takes so long.
Of course my obsession with being a seasoned traveler is not without its own faults. I finally emptied the pocket of my suitcase that I always put my pocket change into. I could have paid off a small nation’s debt. I’m wondering how I carried that bag around without noticing the extra 34 lbs. worth of change. The jingling noise alone should have been deafening. Well at least traveling will be easier now that I have gotten rid of that extra weight. Now maybe I can use the money to buy some internet access at a Starbucks…or maybe I could just buy a small phone company.
Tuesday, June 08, 2004
Two Thumbs Up
I have a buddy of mine who does these really great movie reviews. These are like real world reviews from someone who has similar tastes to mine. I mean these were nothing like what you read in the paper or that I could find on line. He used to send out an e-mail every few weeks or so with a bunch of new DVD or theater releases and his and his wife’s comments. They would include things like “this movie sucked, but for the guys there was a great lesbian scene about 30 minutes in” or “If you have to watch a chick flix with your wife…this one is tolerable.”
The reason why I am missing his reviews so much now is that my wife and I are doing Netflix. A friend of ours recently gave us a gift subscription and we are loving it. It is nice not to have to worry about returning them and their User Interface is great. I love how you just keep a running list of what you want to see.
We used to love going to the movies, I think we went at least twice a month. That all changed after having Ainsley, now we prefer to watch movies at home. And with summer reruns here now is the time…the only problem is once we catch up to the movies we missed – what then. Netflix does an OK job of recommending, but there have been plenty of Dogs too. I personally love finding those movies that were not huge releases and after watching them you can’t believe that they weren’t. I mean most people would have never heard of Swingers or even Pulp Fiction if not for video.
So anyone have some recommendations? I guess I need to talk my friend into doing a Guest Blog Movie Review.
The reason why I am missing his reviews so much now is that my wife and I are doing Netflix. A friend of ours recently gave us a gift subscription and we are loving it. It is nice not to have to worry about returning them and their User Interface is great. I love how you just keep a running list of what you want to see.
We used to love going to the movies, I think we went at least twice a month. That all changed after having Ainsley, now we prefer to watch movies at home. And with summer reruns here now is the time…the only problem is once we catch up to the movies we missed – what then. Netflix does an OK job of recommending, but there have been plenty of Dogs too. I personally love finding those movies that were not huge releases and after watching them you can’t believe that they weren’t. I mean most people would have never heard of Swingers or even Pulp Fiction if not for video.
So anyone have some recommendations? I guess I need to talk my friend into doing a Guest Blog Movie Review.
The best Gift I ever got…
No not the most expensive, or the most needed, but one that you remember forever. For some I guess it was that bike they wanted when they were kids. Others, maybe it was the first car they got. Mine was a gift that I hated when I got it.
When you are a kid about the worst thing you can get is clothes (why do parents bother wrapping sox as a gift…if we need them put them in our drawer). While this wasn’t that bad it was probably a close second. I loved toys, airplanes, action figures or remote control anything. That Christmas when I opened that box of books, I thought, “books…I must have opened someone else’s gift.” I soon forgot them, pushed them to the side and continued to play with my new remote control whatever (see you forget those toys).
A few days later, after the newness of those shinny action figures wore off; my Dad sat down with me and asked me what I thought of the books. At this age I hated reading. Reading was something you were forced to do for a report at school or even worse a test. So I had not even really looked at the books…they sat in their boxes under the new clothes I got. So I asked my Dad what they were about. He proceeded to tell me that they were a series of books that he read when he was a kid. He loved them so much that he thought it was time to pass them down to me. He spent weeks trying to track them down through used bookstores (obviously no Amazon or Barnes & Noble then) and put together as much of the series as he could.
So more out of guilt than desire I thought I would at least pretend to read them. I sat where my Dad could see me and flipped through the first few pages of the first book of the Hornblower series. Well around page 10 things had changed. Suddenly I was interested in what would happen next. This was new for me – instead of being forced to read; I WANTED to. After that I was constantly reading. I was always looking for a new book. I read all my Dad’s old books until I caught up to him and soon we were fighting over new ones (“You can read it when I’m done,” “No YOU can read it when I’M done.”)
Nowadays anyone who knows me knows my appetite for books. I love to read. I love things that are well written. I even appreciate TV shows, songs and movies that I think have good writing. There is no better way to kill time while traveling or waiting in line. To me there is nothing better than sitting in my hammock, music on in the background, reading a new book by one of my favorite authors. Maybe it’s a little sentimental, but with my Dad’s Birthday and Father’s Day approaching I thought of this: I love to read…and I guess that was the best gift I ever got.
When you are a kid about the worst thing you can get is clothes (why do parents bother wrapping sox as a gift…if we need them put them in our drawer). While this wasn’t that bad it was probably a close second. I loved toys, airplanes, action figures or remote control anything. That Christmas when I opened that box of books, I thought, “books…I must have opened someone else’s gift.” I soon forgot them, pushed them to the side and continued to play with my new remote control whatever (see you forget those toys).
A few days later, after the newness of those shinny action figures wore off; my Dad sat down with me and asked me what I thought of the books. At this age I hated reading. Reading was something you were forced to do for a report at school or even worse a test. So I had not even really looked at the books…they sat in their boxes under the new clothes I got. So I asked my Dad what they were about. He proceeded to tell me that they were a series of books that he read when he was a kid. He loved them so much that he thought it was time to pass them down to me. He spent weeks trying to track them down through used bookstores (obviously no Amazon or Barnes & Noble then) and put together as much of the series as he could.
So more out of guilt than desire I thought I would at least pretend to read them. I sat where my Dad could see me and flipped through the first few pages of the first book of the Hornblower series. Well around page 10 things had changed. Suddenly I was interested in what would happen next. This was new for me – instead of being forced to read; I WANTED to. After that I was constantly reading. I was always looking for a new book. I read all my Dad’s old books until I caught up to him and soon we were fighting over new ones (“You can read it when I’m done,” “No YOU can read it when I’M done.”)
Nowadays anyone who knows me knows my appetite for books. I love to read. I love things that are well written. I even appreciate TV shows, songs and movies that I think have good writing. There is no better way to kill time while traveling or waiting in line. To me there is nothing better than sitting in my hammock, music on in the background, reading a new book by one of my favorite authors. Maybe it’s a little sentimental, but with my Dad’s Birthday and Father’s Day approaching I thought of this: I love to read…and I guess that was the best gift I ever got.
Monday, June 07, 2004
Maybe he should have had 3 Oats?
While watching the ‘pre-game’ footage before the race this weekend my wife and I were curious about something. How big is an oat?
Before any big sports event it seems humorous the amount of coverage they try to fill just before the event. The Super bowl is the worst: “Next on Fox…’The History of the Coin Toss’ followed by our in-depth special ‘Game day Cleats.’”
So as we sat in a local bar (Date night with a babysitter and all) we noticed the Belmont Stakes was no different (almost worse when you consider the race only lasts a few minuets). There was a graphic posted about Smarty Jones’ schedule for the day: “8:01 am Wake up….8:15 a.m. morning rub down…8:45 a.m. breakfast 2 oats…” Two oats? Did they mean 2 bags of oats? I mean I don’t claim to have a vast knowledge of oats, but I didn’t think they were that big. I know he doesn’t want to fill up before the race, but surely he needs more than 2 oats. I think before a big day like that he should have been carb loading. At least give the horse a power bar or something. We can only wonder what might have happened if Smarty had had a proper breakfast.
Before any big sports event it seems humorous the amount of coverage they try to fill just before the event. The Super bowl is the worst: “Next on Fox…’The History of the Coin Toss’ followed by our in-depth special ‘Game day Cleats.’”
So as we sat in a local bar (Date night with a babysitter and all) we noticed the Belmont Stakes was no different (almost worse when you consider the race only lasts a few minuets). There was a graphic posted about Smarty Jones’ schedule for the day: “8:01 am Wake up….8:15 a.m. morning rub down…8:45 a.m. breakfast 2 oats…” Two oats? Did they mean 2 bags of oats? I mean I don’t claim to have a vast knowledge of oats, but I didn’t think they were that big. I know he doesn’t want to fill up before the race, but surely he needs more than 2 oats. I think before a big day like that he should have been carb loading. At least give the horse a power bar or something. We can only wonder what might have happened if Smarty had had a proper breakfast.
Friday, June 04, 2004
Weekend sports schedule
USATODAY.com
Weekend sports schedule listed above. Make sure you watch Smarty Jones on Saturday because if it happens you don't want to lie to everyone ten years from now and tell them you saw it happen. Post time is 6:38 p.m.
Weekend sports schedule listed above. Make sure you watch Smarty Jones on Saturday because if it happens you don't want to lie to everyone ten years from now and tell them you saw it happen. Post time is 6:38 p.m.
Thursday, June 03, 2004
Ehlersism #106
The ability to gauge distances while running is inversely proportional to how many beers you had the night before.
While on vacation I thought I would break in my new shoes with a run along the beach. Well I had just gotten there the night before and I really didn’t have any idea where I was, but we were on the beach and the land was flat…so I set off. Well it was pretty hot and I was without my normal equipment (no watch or MP3 player…see the post about the gadget gods for more info on that), but it was a straight shot in one direction. So I ran and took in the sights of morning on Panama City Beach. It was kind of tough going, but I blamed that on the heat and lack of music (I’m going to need to start an MP3 player collection or something)…there was also the wind (can’t forget that).
But I ran on feeling good about working off some of those calories I was going to build up on vacation. Well I run pretty often, so after what felt about the half way point of my normal 5 miles I decided to turn around. On my way back to the house I played that little game that everyone does in an unfamiliar area…”is my turn around that corner…maybe that corner.” Finally I got back to the house sweating a good bit with the feeling of accomplishment. We packed up for the beach (a work out itself) and later that day I thought I would clock the distance that I ran with the car.
3.9 miles! That can’t be right. It felt like a lot more than that. Maybe it was the lack of music that threw me off…It couldn’t have been the beers I had the night before…had to be the music.
Wednesday, June 02, 2004
The Reunion Tour
I’m not one to live in the past, as John Mayer said,
“…I never lived the dreams of the prom kings
and the drama queens
I'd like to think the best of me
is still hiding
up my sleeve”
Having said that, sometimes the differences between past a present are funny. Case in point, we recently went on a trip to Panama City Beach with my friends. Now these guys and their wives I have been friends with for over 10 years. We are called Poker Club a name bestowed on us by our Fraternity due to our frequent card games. We went to school together, married each others friends, were in each others weddings, vacation together every chance we get and talk with all the time (especially during football season). Our numbers have grown to include the Ramons but, as is the case with life long friends, we often find ourselves remembering incidents that happened before.
This trip was full of remembrances due to the fact that we often went to PCB for House Party. We talked about how I met Sheryl for the first time on that beach (introduced to me by Brett, who I introduced to April…see what I mean). We had flashbacks to the time Brett applied just enough lotion so that he had a sunburn like a world map…a feat he managed to accomplish again (although this time it was more like a map of Canada).
There were also the inevitable differences that happen as we get older. The drinking was tamer (well just a little, I mean Amy is pregnant). We never made it to Club La Vila (I don’t think we could enter our daughters in the wet T-shirt contest). Going to the beach was very different:
Before…cooler or keg, volley ball, maybe a towel stolen from the hotel…and that is about it.
Now…12 different kinds of sunscreen (Water babies for the kids, sweat proof, water proof, face sunscreen, spray-on sunscreen…I mean Sheryl actually research the best brands), sand toys (admittedly these were as much for the guys as the kids), a blow up pool, beach chairs (we used to just sit in the sand), a wagon for the kids (well who can carry a kid when you have all this stuff), cooler (that didn’t change), snacks for the kids (well we ate a lot of them too), hats and cover-ups for the kids…and the list goes on. I mean it filled the Reed’s Sequoia not including the kids and wagon.
Then there was the going out to bars. When we went to Salty’s for lunch we commented about how we used to ‘have each other’s back’ if a fight occurred at a bar. Now we watch each other’s kids if we have to pee. We did get to throw down a little at Sharky’s thanks to Sheryl and Amy…they had to stay home and baby-sit. The next night we went back to Sharky’s for dinner because they had a play ground for the kids…not something we used to look for in a bar.
Then again this trip was more fun in some ways. It was a blast to watch the kids play in the sand and ruin the sand castles that we guys built. They loved the wagon rids to and from the beach. We all had fun playing in the pool, kids and adults included. And you had to be made of stone not to smile at Abby and Ainsley playing together, giving each other hugs and dancing to the songs Abby made up.
Good trip, but to paraphrase Mr. Mayer…the best one is still yet to come. Next time more sunscreen (this means you Brett and Hunter), more kids, more beach toys…and probably more beer (even as adults we still kept running out).
It doesn’t take much to impress me…
Well at least in the way of restaurants. Cold beer, good food, casual and fun atmosphere and live music will put you on my list. Now that may sound easy enough to find; but you would be surprised. There is a place near us called NY Pizza Exchange that comes pretty close in all categories. Then there are the places that have weighted averages…for example anyone who knows me, knows Frenchy’s Saltwater Café in Clearwater, FL is one of my favorites (if it had live music there would be no beating it).
We just returned from a little mini vacation at Panama City Beach and enjoyed two beachside restaurants that did pretty well on the Ehlersism weighted scale. First we went to a place called Salty’s that received very high marks. Beer was served in 32 oz. Souvenir cups (a plus) the grouper sandwich was great. The entertainment was at night and since we were there for lunch we didn’t get to sample it. However, entertainment was provided by a group of guys on the beach funneling beer and inviting others to partake. The wives in our group enjoyed watching them, while us guys enjoys the girls they talked into funneling…all except for Reed, who just wanted to challenge them to a game of Volleyball. Salty’s received extra points for having a trough style urinal, thus reducing waiting time.
The second entry was a place called Sharky’s. A little on the touristy side (not saying a lot considering we were in PCB), Sharky’s has a large fake shark outside and a beachside playground for the kids. The first time we visited Sharky’s it was for drinks and to listen to music; for this it received very high marks. The music was great and the drinks were cold…my prediction was that the food would suck. Well I was right. There was a long wait for a table (and for that I was thankful for the playground), and an even longer wait for the food. The grouper sandwich was dry and square, and while many might complain that I ordered wrong; I contend that if you are going to be a beachside seafood restaurant, you must master the Grouper Sandwich (or another fish variation if you do it well.
The verdict, if you want to just head out for drinks or don’t mind the food and need to entertain the kids, Sharky’s will do. However if you want a good all around time…Salty’s wins by a urinal (I told you it doesn’t take much to impress me).
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