First Trip

I am embarking on a few weeks of travel for "something I'm working on." First trip is to loverly Madison, Wisconsin - site of the most epic of Ironmans and impetus for the most "Dickensian" (as in lots and lots...and lots of words) of Ironman race reports (in case you missed it, your "grueling ordeal" starts here.) For what fantastical and magical reason are you visiting the glorious capital of America's Dairyland and Minnesota's Special Needs neighbor, you inquire. Well, if you must drag the details out of me - I am meeting with my accountant.

Don't you worry, I'll provide a detailed explanation of every tax shelter and potential deduction we contrive, because, hey, it's never too early to start thinking about your taxes.

My Lack of Blogging

My lack of blogging or commenting on others blogs should be an indication of my current state of exhaustion. I am too tired to put any thoughts together over 140 characters. I am in my last week of hard (and I mean really fucking hard) training before Ironman Wisconsin (IronMoo or IMOO.) After this week it's taper time and I'll have more energy and time to contemplate my fate at IMOO, which means overindulgent, self-centered diatribes regarding my lack of self confidence and way too many words and not nearly enough pictures. I bet you all can't wait.

Blaaaaaahhhhhh-rrrrrrrgggggghhhhhhh!

Well, it's that time of year. The time of year when I start to question what the hell I am doing with my life. That, or it's seasonal affective disorder, but I prefer the obsessive navel gazing and questioning the choices in my life because it makes for a better (or sadder or more self-indulgent - definitely self-indulgent) blog post.

Winter seems so ridiculously long at this point. I know! No one is holding a gun to my head keeping me here, but, as I have pointed out before, all my stuff is here and I really hate moving. And when I say "stuff" I am including my wife and kids and dog and my emotional baggage - you know, the "stuff" I have become strangely and strongly attached to.

Come mid-April it will be two years since I was laid off from my full-time job as a commercial interior designer. At this point though, everything gets rounded up, so - it's been two years since I had a job. I have done some other things in the past two years, but seeing as those were short-term and part-time they don't seem to register or count.

A thought just occurred to me - didn't I formulate a plan for the future a number of weeks back? (The same thought probably occurred to you way before it occurred to me and I appreciate you sticking with this post as this is territory we have trampled before.) Yeah, the plan. OK I just need to work the plan. All right - enough of this then.

Injury update

I will have my next PT appt. on Wed. Since my initial appt. I have been doing my exercises and feeling major improvement. I now walk up and down stairs without pain. I rode the trainer for 90 minutes and felt no residual effects later in the day as I had been - my ass still hurts, but that is just my boney butt. I will do a short run this afternoon and see how everything feels after that. This evening I do my exercises again - twice a day, already did them this morning.

This past Saturday I was supposed to run the Frozen Half-marathon (see Steve in a Speedo's report here) but opted to pass so as to not aggravate my injury or my wife or both. It was a very wise decision as the weather was less than ideal - rainy (gross,) cold (miserable) and potentially icy (dangerous - for me anyway.) I am also happy to report that neither my injury nor my wife were aggravated Saturday morning. (My wife may have been aggravated, but no more so than usual. She is married to me after all so a constant level of aggravation is included with this premium package.)

Travel update

This past weekend my lovely wife celebrated her 40th birthday. This weekend we will really celebrate it with a trip to Vegas with two of her college girlfriends, one of their husbands and a 5-month-old baby. I know and love all these people (except the baby - we've never met) so I am looking forward to a good time. I hope to have some pictures and words to prove how much fun we had. And since I am "Sober Cab" nothing is off-limits. Mmwhahahaha.

Preservatives

On my Facebook page a week ago or so I posted a picture of this great older guy with an awesome sweatshirt. The picture was terrible, but people liked it. Sitting at the coffee shop just now I see the same guy with the same sweatshirt so I asked him if I could take a picture.



He and his wife were awesome! He's 87 and she's 83. I would have never guessed. And they both had great senses of humor. I hope I am that fun and happy with my wife at that age.

"The Procrastinators"

Here is a picture of our living room taken December 6th.

Pretty.




Here is a picture of our living room taken moments ago.

Pretty sad.


Not much has changed. We have become "The Procrastinators." Since the start of 2010 a whole 14 days ago we haven't done a damn thing that needs to be done. There are five baskets of laundry that we trip over constantly in our bedroom waiting to be folded. And then there are the Christmas decorations.

For someone who talked so much about his dislike for the holidays, I seem to have an incredibly high tolerance for keeping the Christmas decorations around. And it seems like neither A nor I have any urgency to take them all down as A said at dinner, "We should probably take the Christmas tree down one of these days," and I replied, "uh huh," and then we went on to talk about something completely different. So what does this all mean? One of two things - A has adopted a sense of Zen for 2010 or she is medicating - self or prescribed, I am not sure. The only thing I know for sure is that I am down to two pairs of underpants so I better fold that fricking laundry before I completely run out.
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Some completely unrelated items:

The Minnesota Wild beat the Vancouver Canucks 5 -2 last night. Woohoo! Go Wild! (Clever, huh?)

Blog commenter cinthia - please send me an email (go to my profile.) I have a couple of questions for you. Thanks.

I did indeed kill my iPod with my own sweat. How am I so certain? Well, it doesn't work and a little dust of salt crystals puff out around the touch wheel and the edges of the screen when I press on either of them. Today I buy a new iPod and a WATERPROOF case. Damn treadmill running.

Funniest IM Ever

A "friend" sent me this IM recently. I almost peed my pants.



(Beth - this is for you, but I think everyone will get a kick out of it.

I Used to Have Something to Say

Now I am just a sullen shell of my former self. Why? You may ask. Or perhaps you don't care and you are now moving on to some other site, because the potential for this post to become:

a) weird
b) boring
c) depressing
d) self-indulgent
e) long-winded
f) rife with hyphenated words
g) any combination - including "all" - of the above

is quite real and you just don't have that kind of time to waste. Or you don't care, but think there might be something funny. Or you do care and you are my mother.

After a brief chat with Natalie, I think I may know what my problem is. Or at least the problem that is contributing to this lack of something to say. (We all know I have many "problems" and I should be specific when I blame an action on "my problem" - but I digress.)

I have PESSD. "You just made that up!," you say. And in agreement I say, "Yes. Yes, I did." To which you, in turn, reply, "Well, what the hell does it stand for?" And I reply, in kind, "It means Post Endurance Sport Stress Disorder." You cock your head slightly to the side and sensitively respond, "You are an idiot." To which I respond, equally sensitively, "Touché."

Regardless of your feelings toward my made-up malady, my personality, endurance sports or acronyms I am quite sure my feeling of ennui is directly related to the end of my racing season with my completion of the Twin Cities Marathon, at which I did not develop bloody nipples or poo my pants, and watching the Ironman World Championships in Kona, during which I did develop sympathetic bloody nipples, saddle sores and explosive diarrhea - weird. These events were big milestones - the races, not the other "events" - and now I am on the steady decline to cold, darkness and snow. Riding my bike inside, lonely weight training and Christmas shopping. Really, can anything be more depressing? ("Yes. This post.")

I am determined to get over this dip in my mood. I have considered increasing my off-season training, but that will take time to build up so I don't injure myself. I have considered the use of prescription drugs - oh come on, I am already using prescription drugs. Really, who did I think I was fooling? I have considered illegal drugs, but I like to sleep too much to do meth and I already eat too much to smoke "the chronic" (How totally "street" did I sound right there?) So, what I have decided to do to help myself (because, frankly, none of you are any help) is pick an obscure topic and rant about it. Today's topic: Lanai v. Porch

There were many references to "sitting on the lanai" by people who were racing Kona, spectating at Kona or knew people doing either of those two things. At some point D made the observation that a "lanai," which sounds so tropical and exotic is really just a deck, patio or porch in the rest of the world. Good point, D! So as to not go off "half-cocked," but to be "fully-cocked" I did a little research. (I Googled "lanai." I truly meant "little research.")

First of all, Lanai is an island. The sixth-largest of the Hawaiian islands and known for growing pineapples. A "lanai" is defined as "an Hawaiian-style covered veranda or patio oftentimes furnished and used as a living room." So let's be clear, if it doesn't have a roof, it's a deck, patio or veranda. My mother-in-law has a condo in Florida. It's your typical high-rise condo built in the late 50's or early 60's with balconies hanging off the side and yet everyone refers to their balcony as a "lanai." This is just ridiculous. It has a "roof" only because there is another "balcony" above. You can fit, like, two lawn chairs on there - far from "furnished and used like a living room," and it's in fricking Florida! It has nothing to do with Hawaii!

SO. All you people (you know who you are) who feel it necessary to throw around the word "lanai" - you are all rétards. I bet when you're at home, if you called your falling-down rotting deck a "lanai" when your neighbors were over swilling your piss-warm PBR and eating grilled salmonella burgers, they would take off their seed company trucker hats and pummel you to within an inch of your sun-burned, washboard-ab sporting, super-fit life. Even in Hawaii a deck is still a deck! So knock it off!

NOW. Before you all get uppity and do a "little more research" and point out some obscure comparison, definition or crayon drawing of a veranda, patio, deck, porch or sun-room that looks remarkably like a "lanai" I will stop you and point out that I don't care. Remember when I made reference to the level of my "cocked-edness"? Well, the fact that I was "cocked" to any degree should be an indication that I am a a guy and as such, I prefer to believe only what my small brain can discern from one Google search. Let's not confuse the argument with more "facts."

Well, I feel much better. I can feel the endorphins rushing through my veins. The overcast skies seem brighter, the death-metal I am listening to sounds happier, the obnoxious holiday theme sweaters surrounding me are not quite as glittery and the "mom-jeans" I see around me are more "flattering", dare I say - sexy.

And with that it appears I have rediscovered my voice. I did have something to say. And I don't doubt that this post has inspired all of you to say something as well. (Something like, "You, sir, are a complete moron!")

Roo Nailed It

That was the first comment from yesterday's post. At least she got through the whole thing before making a judgement. I think D got bored and gave up early.

It looks like I have to write "accessible" posts for those afflicted with short attention span.

Yesterday's post was "weird" even by my standards of weirdness. I could delete it, but I think I will leave it up as an example of what not to do on my blog.

Let's just put that behind us and move on.

I Really Need To Get Out More

Alright, I started a post earlier today bemoaning my life and the fact there isn't really anything blog-worthy happening. This is how far I got so you can all see how lame and self-indulgent it was.

I am writing this post out of a sense of duty. Duty to my dear readers (thanks, you two) to have something to read from me. I am not writing this because something miraculous has happened. Quite the opposite. I really feel like NOTHING is happening.

The kids have about a week and a half of summer vacation left and zero activities planned. This means I have to plan activities, something I am terrible at. My inability to plan activities makes me feel like a terrible parent. (Case in point - F has a friend over right now, they are playing Wii and have been for a couple of hours - yes, I said HOURS. It was raining earlier and everything is wet and our street is still torn up so it's totally a muddy mess, but still.) Tomorrow I get a respite because A doesn't work so it is my "free day" to get stuff done (read: find a job.)

I will do some of that "job finding" stuff - I actually have an informational interview on Thursday - but mostly I run some errands, write some stuff, drink coffee and sit around gazing at my navel. (Have I written this post before? It seems familiar.) All of this sitting around - I mean actual sitting - has started to wreak havoc on my aging body. We are familiar with my lower back issues and I think I am developing some aches and pains in my upper back, too. Like the stabbing pain under my shoulder blade that radiates into my neck so I have a hard time looking left. (Don't be around me when I have to drive.) I need to stop sitting around - literally!

I know, I know - oh whoa is me. I have it so rough. Boo hoo. That's not what I am saying.

Sad, isn't it?

After A got home from work I went for the run that got rained out this morning. As I was clicking off 11 warm and sunny miles, I decided that if my life isn't exciting I would at least make it sound like it is. To the most mundane blog posts I will bring interest, drama, excitement, blood-letting and violence by adding -- that's right --

ZOMBIES!

Why zombies you ask? No one likes zombies. Zombies are soulless, brain-eaters that the general public seems to enjoy seeing shot-gunned, macheted or otherwise dispatched with axes, hatchets, flame-throwers, circular-saw blades, high-caliber firearms, arrows, cross-bows or shards of broken glass. Sure, they look like your loved ones, friends or neighbors, but they are already dead - killed by the bite of another zombie - so if you destroy them you are only taking out the trash and can't be held responsible for killing someone, because they are already dead. Also, inevitably they are stinking, drooling and terrible dressers (although some are pretty good dancers - Thriller! - but that is beside the point.)

The more interesting blog posts might have run-ins with zombies as well, if it seems appropriate. Think of it as a dash of salt to bring out the flavor of any already delicious story. Where as for the boring posts, think of zombies as the seasoning salt that covers the taste of the ground beef (or mashed potatoes for you vegans, or white rice for the gluten intolerant) that is my life.

So zombies it is!

Or have I completely over-thought this whole concept? Zombies might be "over" already. Maybe I should throw in random infections of the N1H1 flu virus (you know, the "swine flu.") Nobody likes the flu either. It's timely and top of mind. People who have the flu are runny nosed, coughing, sweaty, smelly and soulless. They dress like shit and they never want to dance. Problem is, if you whack the head off of a flu sufferer with a dull, rusty hatchet you are actually committing murder - not a public service.

I don't know now. Let me work on this concept a little while longer and I'll get back to you.

My Friend Vic

My back is back.

Friday morning I was standing at the bathroom sink brushing my teeth (you will all be thrilled to know oral hygiene is very important to me) and as I leaned forward just a little bit the small of my back went "ZING!" and almost immediately I started walking like my 80 year old grandmother (before she died, god rest her soul.) For what ever reason my back/ass/piriformis started to spazz out. This is just getting ridiculous!

I walked around gingerly for most of the day and popped fistfuls of Advil while yelling at my kids for reasons unknown to them (a sore back makes me really crabby with a short fuse.) To make matters worse, I had a 16 mile run on my schedule for the next day.

Welcome, Vic.

A couple of hours before bed I welcomed my friend Vic into my treatment plan. Vic has seen me through a wide range of painful situations - physically painful, not emotionally or psychologically (my friend Porn helps me in those situations. Ha, I kid. But not really. I am kidding about that, too. But not entirely. I am totally kidding.) Now, I LOVE Vic. He always makes me feel better, relaxed, mellow, totally chill.

Vic doesn't have the same affect on everyone who looks to him for assistance. My sister gets "dangry" with Vic. (You, know 'drugged and angry.') Vic makes other people I know barf. I always offer to take Vic off those poor people's hands. Vic gets about $50 per "session" on the street, but I could never part with my dear, dear friend at any price.

I had Vic make another visit right before bed. Then, at about 3:30 in the morning I was awoken by my aching back - AGAIN! That is IT! I creakily made my way to the bathroom where Vic hangs out and had a double meeting. Then I drifted off to sweet, slightly psychedelic dreamland.

Running with Vic.

My alarm went off at 5:00 AM. Mmmm - mellow. I got up rather easily, got dressed, made myself something to eat and drink and then headed out to meet my running partner. My back felt great (as did the rest of me.)

I pull up to CS's house and she hops in the car. I ask her how she is doing, where are we going, etc. etc. and then I realize that I am YELLING EVERYTHING. I CAN'T CONTROL THE VOLUME OF MY VOICE. I apologize and get it back under control and THEN I REALIZE THAT I AM AGAIN YELLING EVERYTHING I AM SAYING. Then I come clean. "CS, I am sorry I am talking so loud," I whisper, "I am whacked out on Vicodin." She laughs - nervously - I am driving after all.

We get to the starting point of our run and hit the trail. As before, my back doesn't bother me when I am standing, walking or running - it only hurts after I have been sitting for awhile or lying down on something too soft. Vic don't fail me now.

I must point out that it is completely false to label Vicodin a "performance enhancing drug." My legs and body have never felt so strange during a run. I felt like everything was on a 5 second delay. Truly weird. Luckily about 45 minutes in everything was back to normal, but those first miles were trippy - and not in a particularly enjoyable way. I also think I kept talking too loud.

Vic is still my friend. I am sure he will visit again when I have a migraine, a tweaked muscle under my shoulder blade or more back/ass pain. I just hope he doesn't come back anytime soon and I hope I never have to run with him again.

"Redneck" is the Understatement of the Century!

A fantastic video about our neighbors to the east and their idea of a good time. (When I say "fantastic" I really mean "moronic.") Enjoy and weep quietly for the future of our country, as I did.

(And yes, I tend to be an elitist snob.)

Sad News

Only recently I have become a fan of Fatty and his blog Fat Cyclist, but in that time I have learned a lot about his family's challenges. Last night his wife, Susan ("Win Susan"), died after a long battle with breast cancer. Offer condolences and help fight cancer at his website - Fat Cyclist.

Wine Snobbery

**I forgot to post this one so it's a little after the fact**

We ate at an "Italian" restaurant in the middle of Wisconsin on our way back from vacation. I should have guessed it would not go well when I looked at the wine list (I was just curious) and saw this at the top:

I didn't even know they still made Riunite, much less sell it at restaurants. I dared A to order it on ice and then I sang the jingle for the rest of the night.

So nice I thought you would like to see it twice.

Hawaii Dreams

So, last night I had the weirdest dreams. Actually, I slept so horribly that I remember my dreams because the dog kept coughing (he goes to the vet today) and at times I thought he was going to hack up a lung. Anyhoo. The most vivid and memorable one involved Hawaii (but it was nothing like this) and bloggers I read (and was reading before I went to bed.)

In this dream I was in Hawaii for a race. Apparently Maggs and Rachel had hooked me up with a place to stay, but I had to carry their bags for them. They were huge bags and heavy.

Rachel's husband was there and very friendly and chatty. Then I realized I had completely forgotten to pick up my bag at the airport. 

I really wanted to go for a swim in the ocean, but I didn't have a suit. Also, I couldn't remember for certain if I had packed my bike. I was pretty sure I had, but couldn't remember for sure (I seemed unconcerned.) Rachel's husband brought me to a few stores to find a suit, but they had easily the worst and smallest selection of swim suits in Hawaii. (What the hell kind of dump dream tropical islands do you two live on?) 

For some reason I was also wearing Heelys and kept sliding into racks and things. I finally found a suit to try on and had to try it on in a toilet stall/changing room and not one of the handicapped stalls, but one the size of a coffin. The door and partition were extremely short and the old lady next to me let me know she wasn't looking at my junk. 

Then the dog started coughing again and I woke up. The end.

I Am Glad You Guys Got It

No need to provide an explanation for Monday's post. I think you all pretty much saw the pattern. I knew you would because you are all highly intelligent, incredibly witty, wise and good looking people. How do I know this? You read my blog. Only highly intelligent, incredibly witty, wise and good looking people read this blog. 

It's been proved. 

By science.

A Theme

Following are a bunch of pictures. They are kind of random, but a theme develops. This will not score me points with potential employers, my wife, my in-laws or law enforcement officials in any number of southern states. I will however score points with my 7-year-old son, maybe my 9-year-old-daughter and 12-year-old boys across the country (and people with the maturity level of said 12-year-olds, myself included.)

Still on vacation - we saw this little critter napping on the wall outside our front door this morning.

Does anyone else find anything funny about my breakfast this morning? (My wife saw this one at the table and we shared a laugh, so you can too. And yes, I ate every bite.)

We went to this petting zoo called "The Farm" today like we do every year. They have sheep.

They have sows and piglets.

They have horses. My timing could not have been worse.

Oh, this picture is much better. This is "Big Duke." Duh!

And an ass.

(If anyone is baffled by the "theme" I will post a slightly more obvious version tomorrow, but come on, it's all pretty obvious, isn't it?)

Do Not Piss Daddy Off This Summer

Any of you! Including the dog! Or you will get more of this!

The kids seem to be enjoying this. The dog, not so much.

Something I Ate

Here is a picture of a wonderful lunch treat I concocted for myself.

Mac & Cheese (Kraft Dinner, for the Canuks) and bacon. MMMmmmm!

Here is a picture of the angioplasty I gave myself after eating the above lunch treat.

At-home medical procedures are so convenient.

Other Crap

For the record: this has nothing to do with the stuff I couldn't remember last night, but I thought I would classify it under "other crap" for continuity sake and because it really is just a bunch of random stuff.

We picked up our race packets earlier today. A couple of people (the other two people I am running with) were a bit disappointed in the expo and didn't really get that "pump" for the race that they were hoping for. I set my expectations waaaay lower figuring it was the first year of the race and having already experienced the somewhat ham-fisted way the course was set up. I sent an email to the race director to get confirmation that the course was USAT certified and I have not heard back from him. We asked around the expo and no one could give us a definitive answer - another example of first year inefficiency. (This thing had better be certified because when we qualify it better count, damn it.) Oh, I don't know what kind of tracking they will have available, but our numbers are 355, 359 and 360 - like the circle. (Me, LF and MS, respectively, not "respectfully" like I posted originally - I'm dumb.) The magic number is 3:45.

In other news: my mom is in town to shop before a trip to Europe and to watch the marathon and the kiddos when A and I go to a little private concert on Saturday night. I will be making it a very early night on Saturday and A has already secured a ride home with a neighbor. So, this concert is by a guy named Martin Zeller and his band The Hardways. Martin Zeller is formerly the lead singer for a band called the Gear Daddies. They put out a few albums in the late 80's and early 90's before they broke up. The music is really fun and a lot of Minnesota grew up on this music in college. You can find their stuff on iTunes. (Two favorites - Color of Her Eyes and Time Heals. Unfortunately the best song is not listed - I Wanna Drive the Zamboni.) Now, for some completely tangential Minnesota music information.

As I was checking to see if the Gear Daddies were on iTunes I came across an iTunes Essentials mix entitled "Minneapolis" - there was an "explicit" tag so I had to open it. As expected I saw Prince, The Suburbs, The Replacements, Lipps, Inc. (Yes, Funkytown is a product of Minnesota) I looked at the "Next Steps" tab and scrolled down. At the bottom is a band called Trip Shakespeare. These guys played at a couple of dances at my high school and at the time they were kind of a big deal (not Prince big, but big in the local scene.) This band was fronted by Dan Wilson of Semisonic "Closing Time" fame. The song on the iTunes Essentials list is called "Toolmaster of Brainerd." Brainerd is where I grew up and went to high school and I was the biggest tool there at the time (you know, a "tool master") so that song is essentially about me. I had no idea I had such an impact on the Minnesota music scene. (You do realize that me having any influence on anything is a total fantasy - just wanted to be clear.)

In a little while here we will be heading back to Burger Jones for dinner with my mom and sis. A is at her parents helping get them settled after her mom had her hip replaced. (See, totally random stuff.) She'll be home later, but will miss dinner with us. I will try to go light tonight and get a good balance of carbs and protein. A burger should be pretty well balanced, right?

A late addition - here is the link to the Minneapolis Marathon. Like I said before, I don't know what kind of tracking they will have, but if I am still cooking out on that course at noon we will have missed our target, by A LOT. The race starts at 7:00 AM CST.

All Right You Maniacs!

Almost immediately after uploading my last post I was implored (berated?) to post pictures. Pictures are great, but they have their time and place. Me trying on a new shirt, not the time. In the bathroom, not the place. The "time" - you know "shirt-trying-on-time" - is usually less than interesting and the "place" - well bringing a camera in the bathroom is just plain weird and if it's a public bathroom you could get yourself thrown in the slammer for a night or two. (Um, or so I have heard.) 

That being said. I ventured back into my bathroom with my camera to reenact the "Donning of the Too Tight Tri-shirt" for my adoring fans. (I will also do anything on a dare or for one dollar.)

The pictures on my previous post - the one immediately below this one - are reenactment photos, but I gotta tell ya - it was a pretty faithful reenactment. That thing is still damn hard to get on and off. But now you can all see how slimming it is and how goood it makes me look. (You also get to see how hairy I am and my man nipples. And a little bit of my bathroom. Lucky.)

Oh, yeah the tuft of chest hair - it comes off Thursday - already made the appointment with the esthetist. (No! I am not getting my chest completely waxed just along the collar bone so I look less like a neanderthal. How is that for too much info?)