Do I really even need to tell you if I ran the morning after my last post?
Well for those of you who had faith in my competitive spirit, I hate to shatter your confidence. But I have to.
Yeah. I did anything BUT run.
Not even the spirit of defeating the self was enough to drag my long frame out of bed! As my alarm clock sounded 6:20am, my eyelids felt so heavy, I just knew... there was no way. No way.
So to make up for it, I completed my long training run for the week last night.
15 miles I think does add a bit to my recent competitive defamation. But oh boy, was I paying for it today! My feet, my knees, my hips! Oh, my 22 going on 70 year old hips!
But tonight, as a present to myself, I rediscovered the delectable goodness of a chocolate Creamy. Soooo good.
Alas, my hips were yet again complaining.
{sigh}
Friday, July 31, 2009
Monday, July 27, 2009
Must Be Those New Purple Nikes
Have I ever told you that I love to run?
Well, now you know.
When I sold my soul to college athletics ALL those years ago, little did I know that not only did I agree to become a full time soccer player, but also a runner and a weight lifter. Major bummer to the latter. So naturally that has been nixed post medical retirement.
But running has remained. And so it shall. I never expected to grow so fond of pounding the pavement, but it has blossomed into a serious love-hate relationship. But mostly love. Even if a major blood blister develops under your right big toenail mid 10K race on July 24th, 2009, and will inevitably cause a separation of nail and toe. So long dead keratinized cells. Your 6 month presence was worth it. See your offspring in another six!
So I am yet again training for a marathon, round two. October 3rd, St. George, Utah.
I find myself actually wanting to run everyday. Well, almost. After a filling dinner at Zupas and a Krispy Kreme doughnut for dessert, running takes a back burner for emesis sake.
But what crosses my mind as I type this dedicatory Chariots of Fire post?
Fine, I'll just run tomorrow morning.
Will I do it?
Probably not. But it's the thought that counts, right?
Woah. Wait.
How strange. As soon as I fueled a sufficient amount of self-doubt, I suddenly felt even more empowered to prove myself wrong.
Oh! Right! This is why I love running so much!
COMPETITION!
Post Script: For posterity sake, I feel the need to be self-promoting momentarily. I finished my 10K (6.2 miles) in 49 minutes, providing for 7.9 minute miles. Prefontaine may be disappointed, but this ex-foot fairy was pleased.
Now we all know how much I hold 8 hours of sleep to be most sacred.
Hence, my eyes must say their final goodbyes to a black keyboard that is missing the letter "q" and my ears to newly purchased running beats.
Hello "Strawberry Avalanches" and "Vanilla Twilights."
If you don't follow, type Owl City into iTunes and you soon will. And you will fall victim, just as I have.
Goodnight hot sticky summer July Salt Lake City night...
Well, now you know.
When I sold my soul to college athletics ALL those years ago, little did I know that not only did I agree to become a full time soccer player, but also a runner and a weight lifter. Major bummer to the latter. So naturally that has been nixed post medical retirement.
But running has remained. And so it shall. I never expected to grow so fond of pounding the pavement, but it has blossomed into a serious love-hate relationship. But mostly love. Even if a major blood blister develops under your right big toenail mid 10K race on July 24th, 2009, and will inevitably cause a separation of nail and toe. So long dead keratinized cells. Your 6 month presence was worth it. See your offspring in another six!
So I am yet again training for a marathon, round two. October 3rd, St. George, Utah.
I find myself actually wanting to run everyday. Well, almost. After a filling dinner at Zupas and a Krispy Kreme doughnut for dessert, running takes a back burner for emesis sake.
But what crosses my mind as I type this dedicatory Chariots of Fire post?
Fine, I'll just run tomorrow morning.
Will I do it?
Probably not. But it's the thought that counts, right?
Woah. Wait.
How strange. As soon as I fueled a sufficient amount of self-doubt, I suddenly felt even more empowered to prove myself wrong.
Oh! Right! This is why I love running so much!
COMPETITION!
Post Script: For posterity sake, I feel the need to be self-promoting momentarily. I finished my 10K (6.2 miles) in 49 minutes, providing for 7.9 minute miles. Prefontaine may be disappointed, but this ex-foot fairy was pleased.
Now we all know how much I hold 8 hours of sleep to be most sacred.
Hence, my eyes must say their final goodbyes to a black keyboard that is missing the letter "q" and my ears to newly purchased running beats.
Hello "Strawberry Avalanches" and "Vanilla Twilights."
If you don't follow, type Owl City into iTunes and you soon will. And you will fall victim, just as I have.
Goodnight hot sticky summer July Salt Lake City night...
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Where in the World...
...is Carmen San Diego? 'Cept change the hair color to a dark chestnut brown, give her scrubs, and a stethoscope that forms to the curve of her neck. And all of a sudden, we have....
Where in the world...
is Nurse Mer?
Try Salt Lake City Airport, munching on sour gummy worms, and her nose buried in the book, The Fountainhead.
Think Boise, Idaho and delicious salads at the Tavern Restaurant with great friends like Maddie, Rachel, or Derek.
Give Bend, Oregon a whirl, as she defeats the heights of Mt. Bachelor alongside her tall, and ruggedly handsome, family.
Where in the world...
is Nurse Mer?
Try Salt Lake City Airport, munching on sour gummy worms, and her nose buried in the book, The Fountainhead.
Think Boise, Idaho and delicious salads at the Tavern Restaurant with great friends like Maddie, Rachel, or Derek.
Give Bend, Oregon a whirl, as she defeats the heights of Mt. Bachelor alongside her tall, and ruggedly handsome, family.
Or as she slip 'n slides down the steep altitude of that same Unmarried Peak, on black trash bags.
Next, you may want to attempt to break into the Nike Employee Store in Portland and watch her practically rob the women's running section of all it's half-off apparel. While you're at it, you may want to learn the mastery of legal thievery from the best in the business.
If you still can't seem to catch her, look for a lavender-colored sweater and blue jeans down by the Willamette River, eating Thai food and McDonald's Oreo McFlurries. Such eclectic taste may just be her downfall.
Better yet, look for a long legged girl decked out in Nike wear from head to toe, running along the neighborhood streets of Hillsborough, Oregon. You may even catch her as she slows her lightening speed and makes an equally mad dash in a perpendicular direction, for the nearest bathroom. Yet another Kryptonite.
Still no luck? Look for soccer balls or footballs soaring through the coastal wind at Bella Beach. The hands or feet of the intended recipient may very well be hers.
Mmmmm, paid vacation is a beautiful thing. The real world is good; really good.
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Don't Hate Me
but I am seeing what sort of financial gain I can receive from placing ads on my blog. (See right side---->)
Yeah, it's selfish. But you never know, it may be your next birthday present that is purchased with said financial gain.
After I buy my Range Rover of course.
Yeah, it's selfish. But you never know, it may be your next birthday present that is purchased with said financial gain.
After I buy my Range Rover of course.
To Each His Own
Pardon me, but I am going to wax nostalgic for a moment.
Growing up under my father's wing, some of my fondest memories stem from road trips between Boise and Salt Lake City, or sitting quietly, but thoughtfully, on my green leather family room couch... all the while listening to my father's music.
He would snap his fingers to Mary Chapin Carpenter's, "The Bug," or point at my mother while singing along to, "Shut Up and Kiss Me." He would ask our sibling quarreling to cease, and to listen to the song's words; he would offer his wise explanations throughout. Like Mark Knopfler's, "Boom, like that," a rendition describing Ray Croc and the beginning of the world capitalized hamburger joint, McDonald's.
He taught me to appreciate the lyrical meaning and purpose of a song. To find little nuggets of wisdom in between the drum beats and guitar plucks. Hence, my backbone of music lends itself from a different generation; an older generation. One more focused on musical thought and lyrical pensiveness.
Hence, despite a not so serenading sound of Bob Dylan, or Warren Zevon, or even Bruce Springsteen for that matter, the power behind the song is what drove them to success. And it is what drives me to love their music.
And it is what lights a fire inside me to find better ways of expressing myself, through song. I can sort my scattered thoughts by words already linked together, and feel at peace. Yes! That is what my mind and my heart feel, but I could not adequately express! It is satiating. Fulfilling.
Without any of my further ramblings, I leave you with one of my favorite songs.
In the words of Linda Ronstadt or Jackson Browne...
"For a Dancer"
Keep a fire burning in your eye
Pay attention to the open sky
You never know what will be coming down
I don't remember losing track of you
You were always dancing in and out of view
I must have thought you'd always be around
Always keeping things real by playing the clown
Now you're nowhere to be found
I don't know what happens when people die
Can't seem to grasp it as hard as I try
It's like a song I can hear playing right in my ear
That I can't sing
I can't help listening
And I can't help feeling stupid standing 'round
Crying as they ease you down
'Cause I know that you'd rather we were dancing
Dancing our sorrow away
(Right on dancing)
No matter what fate chooses to play
(There's nothing you can do about it anyway)
Just do the steps that you've been shown
By everyone you've ever known
Until the dance becomes your very own
No matter how close to yours
Another's steps have grown
In the end there is one dance you'll do alone
Keep a fire for the human race
Let your prayers go drifting into space
You never know what will be coming down
Perhaps a better world is drawing near
And just as easily it could all disappear
Along with whatever meaning you might have found
Don't let the uncertainty turn you around
(The world keeps turning around and around)
Go on and make a joyful sound
Into a dancer you have grown
From a seed somebody else has thrown
Go on ahead and throw some seeds of your own
And somewhere between the time you arrive
And the time you go
May lie a reason you were alive
But you'll never know
Growing up under my father's wing, some of my fondest memories stem from road trips between Boise and Salt Lake City, or sitting quietly, but thoughtfully, on my green leather family room couch... all the while listening to my father's music.
He would snap his fingers to Mary Chapin Carpenter's, "The Bug," or point at my mother while singing along to, "Shut Up and Kiss Me." He would ask our sibling quarreling to cease, and to listen to the song's words; he would offer his wise explanations throughout. Like Mark Knopfler's, "Boom, like that," a rendition describing Ray Croc and the beginning of the world capitalized hamburger joint, McDonald's.
He taught me to appreciate the lyrical meaning and purpose of a song. To find little nuggets of wisdom in between the drum beats and guitar plucks. Hence, my backbone of music lends itself from a different generation; an older generation. One more focused on musical thought and lyrical pensiveness.
Hence, despite a not so serenading sound of Bob Dylan, or Warren Zevon, or even Bruce Springsteen for that matter, the power behind the song is what drove them to success. And it is what drives me to love their music.
And it is what lights a fire inside me to find better ways of expressing myself, through song. I can sort my scattered thoughts by words already linked together, and feel at peace. Yes! That is what my mind and my heart feel, but I could not adequately express! It is satiating. Fulfilling.
Without any of my further ramblings, I leave you with one of my favorite songs.
In the words of Linda Ronstadt or Jackson Browne...
"For a Dancer"
Keep a fire burning in your eye
Pay attention to the open sky
You never know what will be coming down
I don't remember losing track of you
You were always dancing in and out of view
I must have thought you'd always be around
Always keeping things real by playing the clown
Now you're nowhere to be found
I don't know what happens when people die
Can't seem to grasp it as hard as I try
It's like a song I can hear playing right in my ear
That I can't sing
I can't help listening
And I can't help feeling stupid standing 'round
Crying as they ease you down
'Cause I know that you'd rather we were dancing
Dancing our sorrow away
(Right on dancing)
No matter what fate chooses to play
(There's nothing you can do about it anyway)
Just do the steps that you've been shown
By everyone you've ever known
Until the dance becomes your very own
No matter how close to yours
Another's steps have grown
In the end there is one dance you'll do alone
Keep a fire for the human race
Let your prayers go drifting into space
You never know what will be coming down
Perhaps a better world is drawing near
And just as easily it could all disappear
Along with whatever meaning you might have found
Don't let the uncertainty turn you around
(The world keeps turning around and around)
Go on and make a joyful sound
Into a dancer you have grown
From a seed somebody else has thrown
Go on ahead and throw some seeds of your own
And somewhere between the time you arrive
And the time you go
May lie a reason you were alive
But you'll never know
Monday, July 6, 2009
Movin' on up!
Rewind eleven days.
As soon as the clock struck midnight on June 25th, 2009... I left my 21st year behind and rang in my 22nd. Good friends, cheers, and chocolate cake, served by a waitress who apparently knew how to adequately flaunt her assets, ushered in those first few moments.
And they were good moments.
Those moments turned into a late night;
And soon they turned into an early morning to catch a flight from Dallas back to SLC.
Exhausted and with a naked face, I could barely manage to put in a couple hours of work at the office. It was my birthday, and I did exactly what I wanted and needed to do: nap. And I slept just like a four year old should on their birthday. So much so, my sleepy mind ignored my alarm and I barely woke up in time for my celebratory dinner.
But alas, take-out Macaroni Grill and the sights and sounds of my dear friends and family, quickly brought me back to life. And Snickers ice cream cake soon satiated my sweet tooth, right after I was serenaded with the classic birthday song.
Yeah, those were good moments.
Really good moments.
And of course, the celebrations didn't end there. The following night was filled with good friends and good dancing; do I even need to tell you where? Well, I will. Yep.
Sandbar.
And the following Sunday, dinner with another good friend, who even let me order White Zinfandel and Tiramisu! Ooo la la!
Spoiled rotten!
And so it remains; my twenty first year had a good run, but I am elated to introduce twenty two to my vocabulary. By no means am I in a rush to grow up, but I most certainly welcome the events and surprises to shape this coming year. I really look forward to what it is to come. Because I don't know. You never know.
It's thrilling.
I am excited!
As soon as the clock struck midnight on June 25th, 2009... I left my 21st year behind and rang in my 22nd. Good friends, cheers, and chocolate cake, served by a waitress who apparently knew how to adequately flaunt her assets, ushered in those first few moments.
And they were good moments.
Those moments turned into a late night;
And soon they turned into an early morning to catch a flight from Dallas back to SLC.
Exhausted and with a naked face, I could barely manage to put in a couple hours of work at the office. It was my birthday, and I did exactly what I wanted and needed to do: nap. And I slept just like a four year old should on their birthday. So much so, my sleepy mind ignored my alarm and I barely woke up in time for my celebratory dinner.
But alas, take-out Macaroni Grill and the sights and sounds of my dear friends and family, quickly brought me back to life. And Snickers ice cream cake soon satiated my sweet tooth, right after I was serenaded with the classic birthday song.
Yeah, those were good moments.
Really good moments.
And of course, the celebrations didn't end there. The following night was filled with good friends and good dancing; do I even need to tell you where? Well, I will. Yep.
Sandbar.
And the following Sunday, dinner with another good friend, who even let me order White Zinfandel and Tiramisu! Ooo la la!
Spoiled rotten!
And so it remains; my twenty first year had a good run, but I am elated to introduce twenty two to my vocabulary. By no means am I in a rush to grow up, but I most certainly welcome the events and surprises to shape this coming year. I really look forward to what it is to come. Because I don't know. You never know.
It's thrilling.
I am excited!
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