So I have to admit it has been quite a while since I last posted... April 22nd to be precise... Wow! A lot has happened in that time. All the while I have gone on without providing any substance to all your lives. Summer is a tough time to write, as there are much better things to do compared to the Fall/Winter/Spring. So Buck Up. I will be back. Oh, and I have some pretty funny stuff to post. You can ask Mrs. DeSpeedstra (not my mother). She won't give any details, but trust me on this one...
Oh, Don't forget to thank the volunteers.
Rico
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
"I'm Going Home to Spatula." or "I Hate Spoons..."
I’m done with washing dishes. You read that correctly.
It is a bad investment.
Seriously.
I am on the fence regarding other items such as pots, pans, shot glasses. When it comes to plates, silverware, and glassware, it is a bad investment.
Do the math. I will keep it simple.
The Investment
Dinner Set (4 Sets): $60
Silverware (8 Sets): $80
Glassware 12 Sets): $20
The numbers above are conservative. Unless you are still on the free stuff given to you by your parents (not likely) or the stuff from college that you took from the cafeteria, you have made the investment.
It is also conservative to assume 10% loss each year. Really then, the investment is $160 plus $16 for a total of $176…
Better yet, let’s go in this direction…
It takes roughly 5 gallons of water to do the dishes. A conservative guess is that it costs $1 in gas to heat that water, plus $.50 for the water, to do the dishes each night.
My Solution
Disposable eatingware! Think about it!
Plates: $15.99/1200 or $.013
“Silverware”: $6.49/500 or $.013
“Glassware”: $24.49/1000 or $.025
A typical meal costs less than $.25 in materials… Waste Management charges $12/month, or $3/wk for garbage. Assume 12 meals a week, and this is $.25 per meal.
From above, it costs $1.50 just in heat and water (no soap) for a batch of cleaning. With my solution, $.25 in materials plus $.25 for disposal totals $.50 per meal. This is a savings of $1.00 each meal…
It is a bad investment.
Seriously.
I am on the fence regarding other items such as pots, pans, shot glasses. When it comes to plates, silverware, and glassware, it is a bad investment.
Do the math. I will keep it simple.
The Investment
Dinner Set (4 Sets): $60
Silverware (8 Sets): $80
Glassware 12 Sets): $20
The numbers above are conservative. Unless you are still on the free stuff given to you by your parents (not likely) or the stuff from college that you took from the cafeteria, you have made the investment.
It is also conservative to assume 10% loss each year. Really then, the investment is $160 plus $16 for a total of $176…
Better yet, let’s go in this direction…
It takes roughly 5 gallons of water to do the dishes. A conservative guess is that it costs $1 in gas to heat that water, plus $.50 for the water, to do the dishes each night.
My Solution
Disposable eatingware! Think about it!
Plates: $15.99/1200 or $.013
“Silverware”: $6.49/500 or $.013
“Glassware”: $24.49/1000 or $.025
A typical meal costs less than $.25 in materials… Waste Management charges $12/month, or $3/wk for garbage. Assume 12 meals a week, and this is $.25 per meal.
From above, it costs $1.50 just in heat and water (no soap) for a batch of cleaning. With my solution, $.25 in materials plus $.25 for disposal totals $.50 per meal. This is a savings of $1.00 each meal…
I haven’t even added the investment above that was made…
"I Never Met a Man Who Knew So Much About Nothing..."
Not much here today. I did take this test and scored a perfect score. How do you like these apples!
Don't forget to thank the volunteers.
Rico
Don't forget to thank the volunteers.
Rico
Monday, April 20, 2009
"Why Are My Shoes a Topic of Conversation?"
So we are out at a birthday party for one of the guys in my inner-intermediate circle. For the sake of privacy, we will refer to this guy as “Kyle”. He really isn’t the important part of the story; I just figured that it will now give him a reason to check out this blog. See “Kyle” turned 27 or something. Actually he told me but I wasn’t paying attention. After all, if it isn’t about me, I don’t care.
So we are sitting up in the VIP section of a local bar/restaurant/brewery/whore-house. Actually, I made up that last part…
We are upstairs in the VIP location, looking down on the un-cool below. We had to share some of the upstairs space with a bachelorette party that was also happening at the same time… This item of information has no relevance to the story, other than the visual image that one has when they close their eyes and think of a bachelorette party, for a bachelorette.
Out of the blue one of the guys in our group (Shoe), starts bagging on my shoes. See, I am a Doc Marten’s guy. Jeans are Levi’s, shirts are Polo, and then the shoes. My most recent pair are classic yellow-stitched soles with a stylish buckle. Very cool. They look like this.
Shoe decides that these shoes look like something that were worn when the Mayflower landed at Plymouth Rock. In fact, “Argh, are you a witch?” was thrown out at me. Being in Holland at the time, I feared that the christian-police would come and drag me away as a heretic.
To help people out with cool, I will devote this post to explain “cool” or “not cool” footwear and styles.
Buckles. Cool.
Little time is spent tying shoelaces. If you have ever gone to the bar and walked into a Mens bathroom with the urine soaked floor and an untied shoelace. Ughh! Besides, getting in and out of shoes quickly is handy. Need I explain more? I think not.
Zippers. Uncool.
Really? I need to expound on this one? Zippers are ok on jackets, pants, and even after an angioplasty. On a pair of shoes? Really? Yeah what else, Velcro straps?
Velcro Straps. Uncool.
Stoke victims have the only excuse for anyone over the age of six to have Velcro on their shoes.
Tassles. Uncool.
On a loafer, yeah, right. “My name is Blaine.” Nothing says whack-job like tassles. On a coat, on your shoes, on your shirt? No matter.
Rivets. Cool.
Shoes riveted together look bad-ass. No need to add anymore.
Rhinestones. Uncool.
Crap that looks like jewelry does not look cool. These shoes will be at Goodwill in six months.
Black Leather. Cool.
Black shoes always look cool. Always. They even look cool with white socks. The one note is that you should always match your shoes with your belt.
Sandals. Uncool.
Sandals, or more accurately mandals, are never cool. Birkenstocks are an example of this. Name one cool person that wears these? Wearing these in public and not on the beach is well, you get the point.
Crocs. Cool.
These are not cool. These things jumped the shark 2 years ago. I know, because I was the first to wear these in west Michigan 6 years ago. I wear them and do not intend to be cool. I revel in the uncoolness of these. This uncoolness is actually cool. Crocs with a fake fur liner in them are not cool though. Croc “knockoffs are not cool.
Athletic Shoes. Uncool.
Athletic shoes worn anytime not performing athletics are uncool. No, ifs, ands, or buts. Really. You can rationalize all you want, but they are not cool. Mow the lawn? Sure. Check the mail? Knock yourself out! Jerry Seinfeld perpetrated this malfeasance. He was wrong. Criminally wrong.
Rubbers. Really?
Of course, I had to include these in the discussion. Any time that you can be protected is a good thing.
So there you are. An article outlining what is cool and uncool in the footwear. I have provided you my reader a very valuable primer on what is cool. You choose to ignore me at your own peril.
Don’t forget to thank the volunteers.
Rico
Saturday, April 18, 2009
"She Doesn't Deserve a Baby Shower. She Deserves a Baby Monsoon…"
- So perhaps you readers have heard/seen or are living the story about the dispatcher that talked a couple through a delivery of a baby at home. If not, the story is here. I am not the sort of person to judge others; however, I cannot pass this opportunity to write about it. As I sat thinking about what to write, I drew a blank…
Nothing!
I got nothin’!
I have received some flak for not writing more frequently, and yet no one is willing to post any comments (and make it public record; chickens), so my laziness has taken me in a different direction.
I have a guest contributor to today’s post in the form of Mrs. Despeedstra (not my mother) who will provide information in the well liked question and answer format. These questions will be using the internationally recognized “bullet point” format.
A doctor wearing a white lab coat holding a clipboard was my original plan; however none would take my calls. I instead settled for Mrs. Despeedstra (not my mother), who is knowledgeable in the field of pregnancy.
When necessary, I have edited the content of the question and answer segment. The interview is captured below:
· - Have you ever been pregnant?
A. I’m pretty sure…… ugh….. whooaaa…. I’m holding a six year old. OMG!!!!!
· - Did you know you were pregnant?
A. Not for the first five minutes or so.
· - Did you tell Rico?
A. He was there when it happened.
· - Would the significant weight gain suggest that you were pregnant?
A. Not always. Rico is a good cook. Perhaps the Funyuns and the Mountain Dew would mask her weight gain.
· - Would the kicking from the inside of the abdomen (as opposed to external) be a clue that
you were pregnant?
A. She could have attributed it to a feisty tapeworm.
· - Remembering that we live in the USA and not a Muslim country; Would you expect your spouse, boyfriend, care provider, drug dealer, or pimp to visually guess that you were pregnant?
A. No. But read the quote below. I would have killed anyone who asked.
"You should never say anything to a woman that even remotely suggests that you think she's pregnant unless you can see an actual baby emerging from her at that moment." ~Dave Barry, "Things That It Took Me 50 Years to Learn"
· - What are the odds that the dispatcher new the address, and for that matter, the people involved?
A. Fairly likely…..I’m sure there have been 911 calls before from these folks.
· - Can you think of a scenario that it would be better to not tell your spouse, boyfriend, care provider, drug dealer, or pimp that you were pregnant?
A. Yes, if they were ALL potential fathers of the baby.
· - This is not the couples first pregnancy, does this surprise you?
A. No. These people are breeding like crazy.
· - Would this be a likely scenario that the names Dakota and Braylee will be on the "Baby Names" list?
A. Nope. Those are names of kids whose mom delivers a baby in her Grand Am, or at Sam’s Club. Not in a double-wide. No, this is a Destiny or Dylan.
· - Would you expect the post-birth baby shower to be registered at Wal-Mart?
A. Of course…..friends and family can then use their employee discount when buying gifts.
So there you have it. An in-depth question and answer interview with a foremost expert in pregnancy.
Don’t forget to thank the volunteers.
Rico
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
"I Miss the Days When They Made Toys That Could Kill a Kid."
We celebrated a birthday in the Despeedstra household this past week. The littlest Despeedstra is suddenly six years old.
Quite the event.
There was more planning and coordinating by the Despeedstra children than what NASA performs for a shuttle launch. I expected to see Gantt Charts and Open Issues lists…
These are my children!
It is funny how kids that can be smashing each others skulls one minute, are working “clandestinely” the next, trying to wrap gifts, and prepare for the unwrapping in a manner not seen since this. I guess this is one of those immutable laws whereby teamwork will be fostered with the knowledge that cake and ice cream will be the reward… Perhaps the Arabs and Israeli could learn from this!
The funniest part though was the bubbly excitement of the two older ones as they worked on wrapping the gifts. Small plastic crap can be entertainment for little kids as the wrapping paper starts to roll out! Half a roll of tape is a relatively small investment in the satisfaction of “mummying” the gifts in a mountain of paper.
Funnier still, is the process of unwrapping. With each gift the kids inch closer to her unwrapping. They scoot closer and closer until finally the mere act of sliding her finger under the tape to break a seam free effectively smacks one of the spectators in the face. The request to “move back, give her room” is followed with an imperceptible scoot backwards (microns)…
The hour’s work to wrap is destroyed in 2 minutes, yet there are no complaints by anyone.
Anyway… I’m tired off this post…
Don’t forget to thank the volunteers.
Rico
Monday, April 13, 2009
"If Every Instinct You Have is Wrong, Then the Opposite Would Have to be Right."
Stupid people. They are everywhere! I cannot hide from them, nor can I get away from them.
So I am out shopping with the Despeedstra children Sunday, and encountered more stupid people… You might think that shopping is what I do when I am not running… You’d be wrong.
Generally, there are a few guidelines to help you pick the correct lane. Blood pressure is affected (there it is again!) by your choice. In fact the AMA lists this as one of the culprits’ right there with high-sodium diets and home repair with your spouse. You can look it up. Well, do that later, let me finish the story…
Rule #1 Choose the lane with a guy shopping. This is the single most important rule. The only exception is if he has that glazed over clueless look. You know what I mean. You see, a guy normally knows what he wants, and is anxious to get the hell out of there. He does not want any grief; he wants to get back in front of the TV, under the car, or at his buddy’s house. The loaf of bread could be scanned at $40 and he won't flinch; he just wants to move on out… He isn’t looking at the Redbook cover that promises to “Lose your belly without exercise” or Glamour’s “What is your Man really Saying”… He sneaks a look at Jennifer Aniston’s cleavage, and then moves on. If he is buying feminine products, it is even better. He will just simply hand the cashier his wallet and leave. “Don’t know, don’t care. Take it all”…
Rule #2 Never get behind old people. This rule is left to a wide view of that description. I re-wrote the rule several times, but I think that you know what I mean. You look at their carts and see a scant few items; how bad could this be? You will be tempted. Do not give in. The entire process will be glacial. Your bananas will ripen; your milk will turn into yogurt while you wait. No matter how fast the groceries are scanned, and bagged, all movement will be painfully slow.
Rule #3 Never get behind a woman with 2 or more kids. You will sooner wish to lick a bottle return station than do this. She will carry on a conversation with the kids without moving a single item from cart to conveyor. She will sooner ignore the cart to read what is in the aisle (see Rule #1- flatter stomach); of course she will stop reading where it suggests that she would have to do crunches.
Rule #4 Never get behind the NASCAR family. This one is surprising. Normally, this would be a quick line. With all of the boxed & pre-fabbed foods, this line should move quite quickly. The volume would scare you, however a good cashier will recognize that 6 boxes of Hamburger Helper can be scanned once X 6… This stuff moves fast. Additionally, the cart will be devoid of any fresh fruits or vegetables, and we know that these have to be weighed individually, and that takes time… Mountain Dew scans rather quickly!
The slow down occurs though when all has been scanned, and the shopper then asks for 3 cartons of “Basic’s”. You see, these have to be collected from the courtesy desk. The clerk will send the bagger to the desk to grab these and bring them back. Usually, this is a two-trip activity, as the customer will prefer the “hard pack” variety and the bagger will be forced to return and trade and return again (boy I personally just got dizzy typing that one!). Not sure but maybe these people plan to go spelunking after they leave (why so adamant regarding the hard pack).
Rule #5 ALWAYS get behind the lady that is in workout clothes (and looks like she actually was working out). She will be in a hurry to get the hell out of there (See #1 above). There will be no browsing the “Crap Rack” (also known as the Rag Rack), no staring off into space. She will be prepared with money in hand “Soup-Nazi style”; She would be mortified if anyone saw her…
So these are the non-negotiable rules for grocery shopping. Understanding these will save you countless hours over your shopping lifespan to perform other mundane activities.
So we are shopping and misread the checkout lane selection. I am normally skilled at observing a checkout lane to determine which is the one that will move most quickly, encounter fewer stupid people, and the best looking checkout talent. You see D&W hires cute girls… That is all I can add, without this site registering on a “watch list” if you know what I mean…
Anyway, we get stuck behind this lady with 2 small children and before I can correct myself, another shopper gets in line behind us. I am boxed in! The lady in front of us is a moron. She had no plan on how she was going to unload her loot on the conveyor! No plan! She starts grabbing the paper napkins, then the gallons of milk, then the eggs, then the flowers. Yes flowers. Then there were glass jars of spaghetti sauce, and then crap from the deli, in those see-thru poly containers that always leak when they are tipped over.
She then has the nerve to tell the bagger to “be careful, so that those items don’t break”… Stupid people.
Anyone well schooled in grocery bagging knows that it most appreciated when shoppers place the heavy objects on the conveyor first. Things such as milk gallons, large boxes/containers of laundry detergent, racks of lamb, dog food etc. should be placed on the conveyor followed by bulky/symmetric items such as cereal boxes, 128 count bulk toilet paper, and the like.
Next should be the fruits/vegetables and meats. Meats of course should be packed by themselves. They tend to not be very friendly with other groceries, anti-social as they are.
Last should be the chips, bread, eggs, and other fragile items that will get smashed anyway when the kids help bring in the groceries from the van. The positive being that you will know immediately where they are!
I think I am going to start a consulting company to help educate people of these things. Or make my site a “pay per view”. There should be signs with these instructions at every aisle.
Meanwhile her kids are standing there with stupid looks on their collective faces, as they watch the conveyor fill up; unwilling to offer any help to the bagger. Of course they don’t know any better, as Mrs. Vander Stupid is standing there watching the groceries travel on the conveyor. I don’t know if she has never seen one of these new fangled devices, or if she was mesmerized by the cyclic nature of the conveyor belt. She was unwilling or incapable of helping the bagger as they were literally buried by a mountain of Lunchables…
The kicker is when the last item has been scanned and the cashier announces:
“The total is $198.67…”
Actually I cannot recall the exact amount it really is immaterial…
It was precisely at this moment (not a pico-second sooner) that the shopper then fumbled with her purse to look for and pull out her checkbook. After what seemed to be fifteen minutes, she composes herself and then asks:
“Who do I make the check out to?”
Really.
Stupid people.
I understand that D&W is owned by Spartan Foods, but everything, and I mean everything is labeled with the D&W logo. The bags, the receipt, hell, the logo on the cashier’s shirt all said D&W.
Stupid people.
Not that it matters much, but the Despeedstra children actually enjoy bagging the groceries at the end of the line… It is quite funny to see them as they try to keep up with the conveyor and help the bagger at the end of the line… This though, doesn’t really fit with this post…
Don’t forget to thank the volunteers.
Rico
So I am out shopping with the Despeedstra children Sunday, and encountered more stupid people… You might think that shopping is what I do when I am not running… You’d be wrong.
Generally, there are a few guidelines to help you pick the correct lane. Blood pressure is affected (there it is again!) by your choice. In fact the AMA lists this as one of the culprits’ right there with high-sodium diets and home repair with your spouse. You can look it up. Well, do that later, let me finish the story…
Rule #1 Choose the lane with a guy shopping. This is the single most important rule. The only exception is if he has that glazed over clueless look. You know what I mean. You see, a guy normally knows what he wants, and is anxious to get the hell out of there. He does not want any grief; he wants to get back in front of the TV, under the car, or at his buddy’s house. The loaf of bread could be scanned at $40 and he won't flinch; he just wants to move on out… He isn’t looking at the Redbook cover that promises to “Lose your belly without exercise” or Glamour’s “What is your Man really Saying”… He sneaks a look at Jennifer Aniston’s cleavage, and then moves on. If he is buying feminine products, it is even better. He will just simply hand the cashier his wallet and leave. “Don’t know, don’t care. Take it all”…
Rule #2 Never get behind old people. This rule is left to a wide view of that description. I re-wrote the rule several times, but I think that you know what I mean. You look at their carts and see a scant few items; how bad could this be? You will be tempted. Do not give in. The entire process will be glacial. Your bananas will ripen; your milk will turn into yogurt while you wait. No matter how fast the groceries are scanned, and bagged, all movement will be painfully slow.
Rule #3 Never get behind a woman with 2 or more kids. You will sooner wish to lick a bottle return station than do this. She will carry on a conversation with the kids without moving a single item from cart to conveyor. She will sooner ignore the cart to read what is in the aisle (see Rule #1- flatter stomach); of course she will stop reading where it suggests that she would have to do crunches.
Rule #4 Never get behind the NASCAR family. This one is surprising. Normally, this would be a quick line. With all of the boxed & pre-fabbed foods, this line should move quite quickly. The volume would scare you, however a good cashier will recognize that 6 boxes of Hamburger Helper can be scanned once X 6… This stuff moves fast. Additionally, the cart will be devoid of any fresh fruits or vegetables, and we know that these have to be weighed individually, and that takes time… Mountain Dew scans rather quickly!
The slow down occurs though when all has been scanned, and the shopper then asks for 3 cartons of “Basic’s”. You see, these have to be collected from the courtesy desk. The clerk will send the bagger to the desk to grab these and bring them back. Usually, this is a two-trip activity, as the customer will prefer the “hard pack” variety and the bagger will be forced to return and trade and return again (boy I personally just got dizzy typing that one!). Not sure but maybe these people plan to go spelunking after they leave (why so adamant regarding the hard pack).
Rule #5 ALWAYS get behind the lady that is in workout clothes (and looks like she actually was working out). She will be in a hurry to get the hell out of there (See #1 above). There will be no browsing the “Crap Rack” (also known as the Rag Rack), no staring off into space. She will be prepared with money in hand “Soup-Nazi style”; She would be mortified if anyone saw her…
So these are the non-negotiable rules for grocery shopping. Understanding these will save you countless hours over your shopping lifespan to perform other mundane activities.
So we are shopping and misread the checkout lane selection. I am normally skilled at observing a checkout lane to determine which is the one that will move most quickly, encounter fewer stupid people, and the best looking checkout talent. You see D&W hires cute girls… That is all I can add, without this site registering on a “watch list” if you know what I mean…
Anyway, we get stuck behind this lady with 2 small children and before I can correct myself, another shopper gets in line behind us. I am boxed in! The lady in front of us is a moron. She had no plan on how she was going to unload her loot on the conveyor! No plan! She starts grabbing the paper napkins, then the gallons of milk, then the eggs, then the flowers. Yes flowers. Then there were glass jars of spaghetti sauce, and then crap from the deli, in those see-thru poly containers that always leak when they are tipped over.
She then has the nerve to tell the bagger to “be careful, so that those items don’t break”… Stupid people.
Anyone well schooled in grocery bagging knows that it most appreciated when shoppers place the heavy objects on the conveyor first. Things such as milk gallons, large boxes/containers of laundry detergent, racks of lamb, dog food etc. should be placed on the conveyor followed by bulky/symmetric items such as cereal boxes, 128 count bulk toilet paper, and the like.
Next should be the fruits/vegetables and meats. Meats of course should be packed by themselves. They tend to not be very friendly with other groceries, anti-social as they are.
Last should be the chips, bread, eggs, and other fragile items that will get smashed anyway when the kids help bring in the groceries from the van. The positive being that you will know immediately where they are!
I think I am going to start a consulting company to help educate people of these things. Or make my site a “pay per view”. There should be signs with these instructions at every aisle.
Meanwhile her kids are standing there with stupid looks on their collective faces, as they watch the conveyor fill up; unwilling to offer any help to the bagger. Of course they don’t know any better, as Mrs. Vander Stupid is standing there watching the groceries travel on the conveyor. I don’t know if she has never seen one of these new fangled devices, or if she was mesmerized by the cyclic nature of the conveyor belt. She was unwilling or incapable of helping the bagger as they were literally buried by a mountain of Lunchables…
The kicker is when the last item has been scanned and the cashier announces:
“The total is $198.67…”
Actually I cannot recall the exact amount it really is immaterial…
It was precisely at this moment (not a pico-second sooner) that the shopper then fumbled with her purse to look for and pull out her checkbook. After what seemed to be fifteen minutes, she composes herself and then asks:
“Who do I make the check out to?”
Really.
Stupid people.
I understand that D&W is owned by Spartan Foods, but everything, and I mean everything is labeled with the D&W logo. The bags, the receipt, hell, the logo on the cashier’s shirt all said D&W.
Stupid people.
Not that it matters much, but the Despeedstra children actually enjoy bagging the groceries at the end of the line… It is quite funny to see them as they try to keep up with the conveyor and help the bagger at the end of the line… This though, doesn’t really fit with this post…
Don’t forget to thank the volunteers.
Rico
Sunday, April 12, 2009
"So, You Were the Fastest Kid in School."
Yea I was fast! I owned the first 50 feet of Saturday's Town Crier 10k. I was moving with a fluidness in stride that was almost effortless. I in fact later heard someone say that it was Michael Johnson like... Not this guy.
I'm not making this up!!I had been training for this race like I had never trained. I was putting in 120 mile weeks, I had been hitting the gym doing core work, I was even eating raw eggs like Rocky!
I exploded into the lead; a burst that surprised everyone. I was already writing the headline in Michigan Runner. I began writing in my mind this blog entry. Should I blow kisses to the crowd at the finish? Should I cross the line with my near robotic mannerism and just offer a half wave? Should I blow a snot rocket? These thoughts filled my mind as I looked around.
I began to rethink my race strategy... None of the other runners were going with me... They were all hanging back letting me do all the work. This is a 10k, I certainly didn't want to peek too soon. I decided to change my strategy on the fly. I eased up a bit and the first runner passed me. I could see a renewed focus and a sudden increase in confidence this guy had... He realized that "yea, he could hang with Rico..."
I guess I gave him hope. I guess I was giving the others in the lead pack hope as well. One by one guys that I had already debacled through the initial phase of the race, were pulling up along side me. I realized that I had made a tactical error. My old coach's voice was in my head.
"Never give the other guy hope..." was all I could remember (later I remembered that he also said "maybe you should try a different sport") him saying... I could see each of these guys dig a little deeper, knowing that they had reeled me back in...
This doesn't really have a happy ending... Not one of those... Anyway, I ran a little bit too much like Michael Johnson as it turned out...
On a brighter note my 5k time was finally fast. Check out the results below:
http://results.active.com/pages/searchform.jsp?rsID=76551
You could say that I was step for step with Smitty... One of my best races, as I was right there with him; yet he never saw me...
Don't forget to thank the volunteers.
Rico
Friday, April 10, 2009
"We're Like Rats in Some Experiment."
One of my loyal readers has sent me some material that i just had to post. I am lazy today and will instead post it rather than actually write. A Classic Niner supports inguinuity!
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/technology/7226968.stm
http://www.impactlab.com/2009/02/26/power-all-your-own-gadgets/
Don't forget to thank the volunteers.
Rico
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
"C'mon, There Will be People to Mock."
I normally don’t pay attention to other people… Most people either annoy me or bore me… Typically people are idiots… I am convinced that the only reason man has moved up on the food chain is only because of opposable thumbs… Dumb people with opposable thumbs will often times succeed versus other forms of animal… Especially as they reap the benefits produced by us few smart people… Stone tools, Metal tools, science, etc, etc. I’ll let that sink in… It is not that they are smarter than other “lower forms” as much as technology has given them an advantage.
I usually go shopping on Sundays with the three Despeedstra children while Mrs. Despeedstra (not my mother) has some time to herself. This is often times her chance to go for a long run. Some think that this is a kind gesture that I take the kids. On the contrary. It is an excellent time to co-mingle with blog material. People to mock.
I have always enjoyed taking the kids to the store (as it had started at a very young age) and seek the opportunity for them to experience different foods, meet store people, and of course strap on the feedbag over in the deli section with free food. They enjoy it, and it has become routine. Early on, the Despeedstra children learned that there will be no grabbing stuff and putting it in the cart. They learned that there are other shoppers, and that they must not obstruct others in the aisles. The 3rd rule of the holy trinity of rules is that there will be no “scenes pulled” while shopping.
So I am at the grocery store with the Despeedstra children the other day, and I see a mother with her small child in store. I am ok with children… I have three of my own… I’m not a collector or anything, but I can usually find the positive in them… The child is small enough to be in the shopping cart; so I am guessing that maybe he is about 2 to 4 years old.
She is situated in the cereal/breakfast food aisle, positioned in a manner to block all cart traffic. I immediately jump to the conclusion that this is a checkpoint for drunken shoppers or perhaps coupon wielding buyers… Shrewdly, I begin to straighten out my cart just as I made the turn, figuring that I will simply go to the next aisle and circle back around…
Before I can move on, I happen to capture an exchange between the parent and the child. The child wants some brand of cereal that clearly the mother does not want. I suspect it is one on these… I have no problem with the child wanting this per se. What transpired is what I am writing about… The child proceeds to climb out of the cart, and pull down from the shelf this brand of cereal. He then puts it back in the cart. I presume that he had placed it in the cart in the first place, although when I showed up, I only saw said mother returning the box to the shelf.
At this point, I sent (released actually) my kids to begin grazing in the deli/bakery area as I didn’t want to create a spectacle. I began to look at the different oatmeal choices available to me at the end of the aisle. Of course I couldn’t help but witness what happens next.
The mother again, returns the box of cereal to the shelf, this time reminding Johnny (or maybe Dakota) or whatever his name was that she was not going to get this brand of cereal. Much to my surprise, the kid grabs the box from the shelf again and slams it in the cart, this time defiantly stating “I want this cereal!” As the mother attempts to return the box yet again, to the shelf, the kid starts grabbing the box trying to place it in the cart. Predictably, a tug of war ensues. When the mother starts winning the tug of war, the child begins to punch (slam) the mother in the thighs trying to impede the inevitable return of the box.
I hit my surprise threshold, when the mother then began to negotiate with this kid. We are talking full-on bargaining…
Kid: “I want a fueled helicopter, $1 million un-marked, food, and no funny business”
Mother: “A two passenger or 4 passenger model? What denominations?”
Kid: “Stay back, I mean it. I will pull this trigger!”
Mother: “OK. OK. I will throw in some Jimmy John’s. Let’s not do something rash here!”
Ok, I made up that exchange… But seriously… She was negotiating with him… In my day, this action would have been met with swift and decisive action… Negotiating… Really. By the way, yes I realize that you should not start a sentence with but...
Not much lately on the running part of the blog… Not a whole lot to write about… I think with more races coming up, it is time to shift my training a bit… Longer distance races coming up… I think to mix things up, every other day I will run left, right, left, right, instead of right, left, right, left… I’ll let you all know how this works for me…
Don’t forget to thank the volunteers.
Rico
I usually go shopping on Sundays with the three Despeedstra children while Mrs. Despeedstra (not my mother) has some time to herself. This is often times her chance to go for a long run. Some think that this is a kind gesture that I take the kids. On the contrary. It is an excellent time to co-mingle with blog material. People to mock.
I have always enjoyed taking the kids to the store (as it had started at a very young age) and seek the opportunity for them to experience different foods, meet store people, and of course strap on the feedbag over in the deli section with free food. They enjoy it, and it has become routine. Early on, the Despeedstra children learned that there will be no grabbing stuff and putting it in the cart. They learned that there are other shoppers, and that they must not obstruct others in the aisles. The 3rd rule of the holy trinity of rules is that there will be no “scenes pulled” while shopping.
So I am at the grocery store with the Despeedstra children the other day, and I see a mother with her small child in store. I am ok with children… I have three of my own… I’m not a collector or anything, but I can usually find the positive in them… The child is small enough to be in the shopping cart; so I am guessing that maybe he is about 2 to 4 years old.
She is situated in the cereal/breakfast food aisle, positioned in a manner to block all cart traffic. I immediately jump to the conclusion that this is a checkpoint for drunken shoppers or perhaps coupon wielding buyers… Shrewdly, I begin to straighten out my cart just as I made the turn, figuring that I will simply go to the next aisle and circle back around…
Before I can move on, I happen to capture an exchange between the parent and the child. The child wants some brand of cereal that clearly the mother does not want. I suspect it is one on these… I have no problem with the child wanting this per se. What transpired is what I am writing about… The child proceeds to climb out of the cart, and pull down from the shelf this brand of cereal. He then puts it back in the cart. I presume that he had placed it in the cart in the first place, although when I showed up, I only saw said mother returning the box to the shelf.
At this point, I sent (released actually) my kids to begin grazing in the deli/bakery area as I didn’t want to create a spectacle. I began to look at the different oatmeal choices available to me at the end of the aisle. Of course I couldn’t help but witness what happens next.
The mother again, returns the box of cereal to the shelf, this time reminding Johnny (or maybe Dakota) or whatever his name was that she was not going to get this brand of cereal. Much to my surprise, the kid grabs the box from the shelf again and slams it in the cart, this time defiantly stating “I want this cereal!” As the mother attempts to return the box yet again, to the shelf, the kid starts grabbing the box trying to place it in the cart. Predictably, a tug of war ensues. When the mother starts winning the tug of war, the child begins to punch (slam) the mother in the thighs trying to impede the inevitable return of the box.
I hit my surprise threshold, when the mother then began to negotiate with this kid. We are talking full-on bargaining…
Kid: “I want a fueled helicopter, $1 million un-marked, food, and no funny business”
Mother: “A two passenger or 4 passenger model? What denominations?”
Kid: “Stay back, I mean it. I will pull this trigger!”
Mother: “OK. OK. I will throw in some Jimmy John’s. Let’s not do something rash here!”
Ok, I made up that exchange… But seriously… She was negotiating with him… In my day, this action would have been met with swift and decisive action… Negotiating… Really. By the way, yes I realize that you should not start a sentence with but...
Not much lately on the running part of the blog… Not a whole lot to write about… I think with more races coming up, it is time to shift my training a bit… Longer distance races coming up… I think to mix things up, every other day I will run left, right, left, right, instead of right, left, right, left… I’ll let you all know how this works for me…
Don’t forget to thank the volunteers.
Rico
Monday, April 6, 2009
“I Don't Know What to Believe! You're Eatin' Onions, You're Spottin' Dimes, I Don't Know What the Hell's Goin' On!”
So we are out running on Saturday morning, on our long run… One of the guys in the group is ill. See he has an 11.75 month old and he alleges that he is now sick because his child coughed on him, or because he had to change his diaper… One or the other, or something like that… So anyway, Smitty the guy in question, is on medication for his illness, but still decided to run with us… Relax the illness is a cold or the flu or something... Unless it is hayfever. In which case, doctors have found a remedy that does not require medication. I'm just saying.
Three of the guys take off and are maybe 50 feet ahead of Smitty, some other guy and me. Two of the guys are wearing compression shorts (bike shorts) and the other is wearing tights… Nothing like pale white runner’s legs the first weekend of April… Oddly, this detail is actually part of the story!
We are maybe 4.5 miles into this 13 mile run, and Smitty is laboring. Actually, that is kind off a stupid detail. We are running, of course we are laboring! So we are moving along and Smitty looks ahead and observes:
“Hey that lady ahead is walking two golden labs!” This while looking ahead at the three guys ahead of him… I guess you had to be there…
13 or so miles… A pretty good run that included hills by the lake… Oh yeah, we almost had a truck incident. Some nozzle was annoyed that he had to wait fifteen seconds before he could complete his turn... He squawked his tires, I yelled at him... The guys wanted to see a showdown... i would have debacled the guy...
Short post today!
Don’t forget to thank the volunteers.
Rico
Three of the guys take off and are maybe 50 feet ahead of Smitty, some other guy and me. Two of the guys are wearing compression shorts (bike shorts) and the other is wearing tights… Nothing like pale white runner’s legs the first weekend of April… Oddly, this detail is actually part of the story!
We are maybe 4.5 miles into this 13 mile run, and Smitty is laboring. Actually, that is kind off a stupid detail. We are running, of course we are laboring! So we are moving along and Smitty looks ahead and observes:
“Hey that lady ahead is walking two golden labs!” This while looking ahead at the three guys ahead of him… I guess you had to be there…
13 or so miles… A pretty good run that included hills by the lake… Oh yeah, we almost had a truck incident. Some nozzle was annoyed that he had to wait fifteen seconds before he could complete his turn... He squawked his tires, I yelled at him... The guys wanted to see a showdown... i would have debacled the guy...
Short post today!
Don’t forget to thank the volunteers.
Rico
Sunday, April 5, 2009
"Yeah, I'm a Great Quitter. It's One of the Few Things I Do Well. I Come From a Long Line of Quitters. My Father Was a Quitter; My Grandfather Was a Q
Audience out there, are these posts worth reading? Should I continue? Are there any recommendations for changing the format? Suggestions are welcome… Another busy work week ahead of me.
Don’t forget to thank the volunteers.
Rico
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
"Women Don't Respect Salad Eaters."
I consider myself a man… I have the equipment… I have the technique (I can explain if someone needs one)… I have the mindset… I am a man… So, why is it that when a man goes to a restaurant and orders a salad, he gets an odd glance from the waitress?
Any woman can order one, and not a second glance will be offered; however, when a guy orders one, geez, you would think that he is also asking for a nipple ring… Why is this the case?
At lunch the other day, I ordered a salad and received the compulsory “whaaa?” look… I find it very interesting… I have witnessed guys ordering the triple cheeseburger, chili fries, a large shake, and that order will be taken as though it was perfectly normal… I have even seen my all-time favorite; the whole frier chicken dinner, with onion rings and to top it off… The diet drink… You wouldn’t want the extra 450 calories that are found in a regular soft drink to leave you feeling overly full…
The worst part about ordering a salad is that look you get of pity, suggesting that you are forcing yourself to eat this instead of something more appealing on the menu. You are a fat ass that next week will be ordering Hydroxycut while you are staying up late with Taco Bell smeared on your shirt…
I certainly could understand if the offending order came with instructions that included “dressing on the side”… But to dismiss simply because an individual is determined to meet his daily food pyramid requirements is unjust… It is a Jackie Chiles monologue…
I’m all over the place today…
Don’t forget to thank the volunteers.
Rico
Any woman can order one, and not a second glance will be offered; however, when a guy orders one, geez, you would think that he is also asking for a nipple ring… Why is this the case?
At lunch the other day, I ordered a salad and received the compulsory “whaaa?” look… I find it very interesting… I have witnessed guys ordering the triple cheeseburger, chili fries, a large shake, and that order will be taken as though it was perfectly normal… I have even seen my all-time favorite; the whole frier chicken dinner, with onion rings and to top it off… The diet drink… You wouldn’t want the extra 450 calories that are found in a regular soft drink to leave you feeling overly full…
The worst part about ordering a salad is that look you get of pity, suggesting that you are forcing yourself to eat this instead of something more appealing on the menu. You are a fat ass that next week will be ordering Hydroxycut while you are staying up late with Taco Bell smeared on your shirt…
I certainly could understand if the offending order came with instructions that included “dressing on the side”… But to dismiss simply because an individual is determined to meet his daily food pyramid requirements is unjust… It is a Jackie Chiles monologue…
I’m all over the place today…
Don’t forget to thank the volunteers.
Rico
Monday, March 30, 2009
"I Say Stupid Things all the Time. I Can't go Two Minutes Without Saying Something Stupid."
So I joined my family to watch my daughter, Chatty Despeedstra, on Saturday morning to watch a play that she was in. She has been participating in a Community Theater children’s acting program over the past several months. It has become evident that she loves arts and drama. The day does not pass without her flavor of life being inflicted on everyone else in her path…
It is fun stuff really, as she has an innate ability to talk her way through anything… If that doesn’t work, she will wear on you… She will wear you out with the “please, why can’t I?” You simply break down and acquiesce; Her techniques have been perfected by the counter-intelligence divisions.
So Saturday morning, the Despeedstra family went to go see Chatty’s play… Of course everyone knows that in theater, the two things that all actors know about are that flowers are brought for the actor after their performance, and they will wait tables until they are 40 something… These are two immutable facts. So the Despeedstra family is in the lobby of the Muskegon Community Theater Saturday morning waiting for the series of performances to begin. Chatty is backstage getting ready. It is 8:30 Saturday morning. We are in Downtown Muskegon.
The lady arrives and approaches the Despeedstra family, as we stand off in a wing of the lobby where it is quiet. She is here for her daughter’s play as well. She approaches us to ask Mrs. Despeedstra (not my mother) where she purchased the flowers, and “where she could buy flowers for her daughter”.
We are in downtown Muskegon.
On a Saturday.
It is 8:30 in the morning.
In downtown Muskegon.
I could understand if this was a guy that approached us. It is perfectly understandable that some guy who hasn’t really figured what the hell is going on, that just showed up because the told him not to miss out, showed up without preparation… I can see that. That would be me! After all, I have failed to get Mrs. Despeedstra (not my mother) a Valentine’s gift on the basis that she did not want anything (as it is a contrived holiday) and was insistent on that fact. When the day came, and no gift forthcoming, I jeopardized my boyfriend status almost permanently (we were dating at the time)… I misconstrued “No means No” on this one.
I cannot write too harshly about that error in judgment…
We are in downtown Muskegon.
On a Saturday.
It is 8:30 in the morning.
She stood a better chance to buy crack cocaine than she did to find someone selling flowers. She made no mention that she forgot the flowers on her countertop, left them in her car, or that the dog ate them… All legitimate excuses. No, she never thought to bring flowers.
I am not sure what is more unconscionable. Forgot flowers. Didn’t plan by purchasing them the night before. Didn’t think to stop along the way at a gas station. Or simply that she might find flowers on a street corner.
We are in downtown Muskegon.
On a Saturday.
It is 8:30 in the morning.
Mrs. Despeedstra (not my mother) the kind and generous soul that I am not, gave the lady some of the flowers that were for our daughter… I openly debated with Mrs. Despeedstra (not my mother) afterwards, regarding this gesture. On the one hand, how do stupid people learn but by object lessons… Standing empty-handed after the performance, while other over-indulgent parent shower their children with flowers and such might help her learn. Tough love.
On the other hand, Brittany, crushed by not receiving flowers after her performance as a 2nd grader, grows up to be an “adult performer” and instead of receiving flowers, lives a life where by she receives singles after her shows… This is a tough one to reconcile… Am I wrong here?
Don’t forget to thank the volunteers.
Rico
It is fun stuff really, as she has an innate ability to talk her way through anything… If that doesn’t work, she will wear on you… She will wear you out with the “please, why can’t I?” You simply break down and acquiesce; Her techniques have been perfected by the counter-intelligence divisions.
So Saturday morning, the Despeedstra family went to go see Chatty’s play… Of course everyone knows that in theater, the two things that all actors know about are that flowers are brought for the actor after their performance, and they will wait tables until they are 40 something… These are two immutable facts. So the Despeedstra family is in the lobby of the Muskegon Community Theater Saturday morning waiting for the series of performances to begin. Chatty is backstage getting ready. It is 8:30 Saturday morning. We are in Downtown Muskegon.
The lady arrives and approaches the Despeedstra family, as we stand off in a wing of the lobby where it is quiet. She is here for her daughter’s play as well. She approaches us to ask Mrs. Despeedstra (not my mother) where she purchased the flowers, and “where she could buy flowers for her daughter”.
We are in downtown Muskegon.
On a Saturday.
It is 8:30 in the morning.
In downtown Muskegon.
I could understand if this was a guy that approached us. It is perfectly understandable that some guy who hasn’t really figured what the hell is going on, that just showed up because the told him not to miss out, showed up without preparation… I can see that. That would be me! After all, I have failed to get Mrs. Despeedstra (not my mother) a Valentine’s gift on the basis that she did not want anything (as it is a contrived holiday) and was insistent on that fact. When the day came, and no gift forthcoming, I jeopardized my boyfriend status almost permanently (we were dating at the time)… I misconstrued “No means No” on this one.
I cannot write too harshly about that error in judgment…
We are in downtown Muskegon.
On a Saturday.
It is 8:30 in the morning.
She stood a better chance to buy crack cocaine than she did to find someone selling flowers. She made no mention that she forgot the flowers on her countertop, left them in her car, or that the dog ate them… All legitimate excuses. No, she never thought to bring flowers.
I am not sure what is more unconscionable. Forgot flowers. Didn’t plan by purchasing them the night before. Didn’t think to stop along the way at a gas station. Or simply that she might find flowers on a street corner.
We are in downtown Muskegon.
On a Saturday.
It is 8:30 in the morning.
Mrs. Despeedstra (not my mother) the kind and generous soul that I am not, gave the lady some of the flowers that were for our daughter… I openly debated with Mrs. Despeedstra (not my mother) afterwards, regarding this gesture. On the one hand, how do stupid people learn but by object lessons… Standing empty-handed after the performance, while other over-indulgent parent shower their children with flowers and such might help her learn. Tough love.
On the other hand, Brittany, crushed by not receiving flowers after her performance as a 2nd grader, grows up to be an “adult performer” and instead of receiving flowers, lives a life where by she receives singles after her shows… This is a tough one to reconcile… Am I wrong here?
Don’t forget to thank the volunteers.
Rico
Friday, March 27, 2009
"Well, The Yogurt Verdict is in.... FAT!"
So I had a discussion with some people at work today about the Hydroxycut commercial (you can only talk about the failing economy and the impact on the auto industry so long) that I happen to see maybe 52 times a week as I get ready for work... For those of you that are game, it is often on during the time period of 4:30 through 4:50 AM... Trust me. The only other commercial at this time is for Finally Fast Computers... Really... You cannot proceed with reading this post without watching the Hydroxycut commercial and the Finally Fast Computer commercial... I'll wait.
I said I'll wait... Go back up there and view each of the links... I will check my email... I'm serious!! You must view these first...
OK, now that you have viewed these, do you feel dumber now? As an actor, how would you like to have these commercials on your Resume?
Anyway, while discussing this Hydroxycut commercial, I posed the question that I now leave for all two of you readers to discuss...
Would you be OK with one of the women in this commercial? On the one hand they have slimmed down to a more manageable weight... On the other hand, they hit a threshold weight before they decided to "hydroxycut it"... C'mon... Really... "Hey, I found this new leprosy cream! It seems to really work!!" Extreme, yes, but anyone? Anyone?
I also seem to be taking some comments from said colleagues regarding my "lakeshore view of things"... To which I will say, "Yeah, however you want to catalog it..." Long week with work and all... Perhaps a career in the burger technology or something, would offer more rest... I need a beer... Feel free to discuss this item amongst yourselves...
Don't forget to thank the volunteers.
Rico
I said I'll wait... Go back up there and view each of the links... I will check my email... I'm serious!! You must view these first...
OK, now that you have viewed these, do you feel dumber now? As an actor, how would you like to have these commercials on your Resume?
Anyway, while discussing this Hydroxycut commercial, I posed the question that I now leave for all two of you readers to discuss...
Would you be OK with one of the women in this commercial? On the one hand they have slimmed down to a more manageable weight... On the other hand, they hit a threshold weight before they decided to "hydroxycut it"... C'mon... Really... "Hey, I found this new leprosy cream! It seems to really work!!" Extreme, yes, but anyone? Anyone?
I also seem to be taking some comments from said colleagues regarding my "lakeshore view of things"... To which I will say, "Yeah, however you want to catalog it..." Long week with work and all... Perhaps a career in the burger technology or something, would offer more rest... I need a beer... Feel free to discuss this item amongst yourselves...
Don't forget to thank the volunteers.
Rico
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
"Nobody is sicker than me..."
Short entry… That work thing happening again… Funny exchange within the Despeedstra household the other day… Now I know that I previously indicated that I would not use this site as a portal into my blah, blah, blah… I also suggested that the site would be funny and family-friendly…
Now where was I… So Mrs. Despeedstra (my wife not my mother) is convinced that Chatty Despeedstra (our child) is friends with a girl in her class with parents that are in the “MOB”… Now this can mean a variety of things…
Management and Organizational Behavior
The focus here is how to work within a team. In this team environment, never be the dissenting vote. When asked to meet with the group leader, always look at the floor on which you are standing; never stand on plastic drop-sheet. Never turn down an “offer you cannot refuse”… Never go fishing in a row-boat in the fog with a “co-worker”.
Man Over Board
As will above, often times occurs while fishing… Sometimes referred to as “sleeping with the fish” or “swimming with cement shoes”…
Main Operating Base
This is a military term. It refers to a permanently manned, well protected base used as headquarters. This would include, but not be limited to, Lake Tahoe, Las Vegas, and of course upstate New York. Bonus points if the company name is Genco Pura…
Money Over Bitches
Tupac made this expression a household one… Should I explain this? Really?
Medical Office Building
All of the above ultimately lead to this location in some form or another… It’s science really…
So anyway, the other day (same other day as the beginning of this post), the Despeedstra family, while returning from dinner out, dropped by this family’s house to leave a Girl Scout Cookie form with the residence… I reminded my daughter that she should not stand on any plastic… We quizzed her when she got back to our vehicle, about whether she saw a horse-head in their garage… Nothing yet but we are still watching… I don’t know man, a house on a hill adjacent to a park/woods on one side of the house, and a cemetery on the other side… I’m just saying…
Stay tuned for future developments… I doubt that they (the “family”; not the Despeedstra family) read this blog, however if I suddenly disappear while out on a run, there might be cause for foul-play…
Don’t forget to thank the volunteers!
Rico
Now where was I… So Mrs. Despeedstra (my wife not my mother) is convinced that Chatty Despeedstra (our child) is friends with a girl in her class with parents that are in the “MOB”… Now this can mean a variety of things…
Management and Organizational Behavior
The focus here is how to work within a team. In this team environment, never be the dissenting vote. When asked to meet with the group leader, always look at the floor on which you are standing; never stand on plastic drop-sheet. Never turn down an “offer you cannot refuse”… Never go fishing in a row-boat in the fog with a “co-worker”.
Man Over Board
As will above, often times occurs while fishing… Sometimes referred to as “sleeping with the fish” or “swimming with cement shoes”…
Main Operating Base
This is a military term. It refers to a permanently manned, well protected base used as headquarters. This would include, but not be limited to, Lake Tahoe, Las Vegas, and of course upstate New York. Bonus points if the company name is Genco Pura…
Money Over Bitches
Tupac made this expression a household one… Should I explain this? Really?
Medical Office Building
All of the above ultimately lead to this location in some form or another… It’s science really…
So anyway, the other day (same other day as the beginning of this post), the Despeedstra family, while returning from dinner out, dropped by this family’s house to leave a Girl Scout Cookie form with the residence… I reminded my daughter that she should not stand on any plastic… We quizzed her when she got back to our vehicle, about whether she saw a horse-head in their garage… Nothing yet but we are still watching… I don’t know man, a house on a hill adjacent to a park/woods on one side of the house, and a cemetery on the other side… I’m just saying…
Stay tuned for future developments… I doubt that they (the “family”; not the Despeedstra family) read this blog, however if I suddenly disappear while out on a run, there might be cause for foul-play…
Don’t forget to thank the volunteers!
Rico
Monday, March 23, 2009
"...You're a Very Very Good Man..."
For those of you not living within a 150 mile radius of Grand Rapids, there was a 5k race on Saturday… The Irish Jig. I have written about this race once... This race is run in East Grand Rapids, and if that means nothing to you, I couldn’t begin to intimate to you, my loyal readers, the significance… A few notes regarding the race… The “Jig” is a proud promoter of colorectal cancer awareness. In fact:
March is Colorectal Cancer Awareness Month and the Irish Jig continues its tradition of promoting colorectal cancer awareness. For information on colorectal cancer or to request a free screening kit, call Spectrum Health Cancer Services at (616) 391-1100. In addition, participants can donate to the Spectrum Health Ferguson Digestive Disease Endowment Fund for colorectal cancer research, education and patient care. If interested, contact the Spectrum Health Foundation at (616) 391-2000 or spectrum-health.org/give.
Do-It-Yourself Medical Testing Makes Inroads...
That folks is my PSA… For more info on colorectal awareness, please run the race next year… There are so many funny directions to take that one that my brain simply locked up… Kind of like the scene in Terminator 3 (look for the link yourselves, I’m feeling lazy)… Anyway…
While I hate the race (it is cold, crowded, a 5k, and because I suck), it is quite a spectacle… First of all, I always feel that I have walked on to the set of Bravo’s “Real Housewives of…” There is just an element that again, if I need to explain… In fact I just might in a future entry… This race is very scenic… It is an excellent opportunity to see how the other 1% lives…
There is no greater feeling of accomplishment than to run along and see parked in driveways a Porsche Cayenne and a Volvo XC 90 (see I know these things) in the driveway… See rather than choose, get one of each! What bad economy? I should note that my target audience might be annoyed by that statement…
Not much else to add other than the Jig was another stellar performance by my favorite blogger Rico D!! Fifth in his age group (of 211) when you pull out the overall Master’s winner… First in his age group that also have a running blog… I checked… Who says I’m not a Renaissance Man!! Not a great race but considering that I suck at 5k’s… Yeah the mantra of the quitter… I think that placing translates into approx top 2.5% in my age group… Just a little storyline that I will probably be tracking throughout the course of the race season…
So I am out on Sunday running my usual day after race limp/shuffle/amble and had a moment that I must share with you all… I’m running along on Harbor Dr in lovely Grand Haven, when I happened to catch up with a guy also running in the same direction… I happened to catch up with him and with an opportunity to run slower, I was more than willing to run with him… Short on time today, but the long and the short of the story is that this guy, Steve (actual name, he probably isn’t reading this) had torn his ACL this summer playing basketball with kids in a league at the local Y… This guy is approaching 60 and playing against/with kids in their 20’s…
So after the usual surgery, rehab, etc, his doctor suggested that he start walking to get back into physical activity… The doctor told him that he shouldn’t plan on basketball anymore… So he began walking, and walking, and walking… He indicated that he hated it, and hated it, and hated it… He said that he saw me out during the fall, during the winter… Saw me out in the cold, in the snow, and even saw me yell at a motorist while out on a run… He decided that he wanted to try running if but only because he figured that if running is something that is important enough to do in all sorts of weather and such; he had to try it…
He is up to 5 miles, and plans on running races this summer in Grand Haven… He said that he had always wanted to stop me when he saw me out (whether he was out in his yard, running, biking, or driving around) just to tell him about this story, but was reluctant to do so. His explanation was that “…you were running so fast that I didn’t want to annoy you by stopping you during your workout…” I told him that I will always be willing to stop a run (especially to catch my breath) and that I will look for him at the next race (perhaps Snug Harbor)… I also mentioned that I would be willing to pace him for his first race (provided I can keep up) if he would like…
Just wanted to share a poignant moment that galvanizes in my mind why I run… Yeah running fast seems like it would be fun; racing and winning must be a great feeling; but it is a nice feeling to be singled out as having positively influenced one runner one time… Steve is running 11 minute miles, but he’s running. No race team, no age-group medal (not yet at least) but an interest in something that started as therapy… I sometimes take for granted this running…
Don’t forget to thank the volunteers.
Rico.
March is Colorectal Cancer Awareness Month and the Irish Jig continues its tradition of promoting colorectal cancer awareness. For information on colorectal cancer or to request a free screening kit, call Spectrum Health Cancer Services at (616) 391-1100. In addition, participants can donate to the Spectrum Health Ferguson Digestive Disease Endowment Fund for colorectal cancer research, education and patient care. If interested, contact the Spectrum Health Foundation at (616) 391-2000 or spectrum-health.org/give.
Do-It-Yourself Medical Testing Makes Inroads...
That folks is my PSA… For more info on colorectal awareness, please run the race next year… There are so many funny directions to take that one that my brain simply locked up… Kind of like the scene in Terminator 3 (look for the link yourselves, I’m feeling lazy)… Anyway…
While I hate the race (it is cold, crowded, a 5k, and because I suck), it is quite a spectacle… First of all, I always feel that I have walked on to the set of Bravo’s “Real Housewives of…” There is just an element that again, if I need to explain… In fact I just might in a future entry… This race is very scenic… It is an excellent opportunity to see how the other 1% lives…
There is no greater feeling of accomplishment than to run along and see parked in driveways a Porsche Cayenne and a Volvo XC 90 (see I know these things) in the driveway… See rather than choose, get one of each! What bad economy? I should note that my target audience might be annoyed by that statement…
Not much else to add other than the Jig was another stellar performance by my favorite blogger Rico D!! Fifth in his age group (of 211) when you pull out the overall Master’s winner… First in his age group that also have a running blog… I checked… Who says I’m not a Renaissance Man!! Not a great race but considering that I suck at 5k’s… Yeah the mantra of the quitter… I think that placing translates into approx top 2.5% in my age group… Just a little storyline that I will probably be tracking throughout the course of the race season…
So I am out on Sunday running my usual day after race limp/shuffle/amble and had a moment that I must share with you all… I’m running along on Harbor Dr in lovely Grand Haven, when I happened to catch up with a guy also running in the same direction… I happened to catch up with him and with an opportunity to run slower, I was more than willing to run with him… Short on time today, but the long and the short of the story is that this guy, Steve (actual name, he probably isn’t reading this) had torn his ACL this summer playing basketball with kids in a league at the local Y… This guy is approaching 60 and playing against/with kids in their 20’s…
So after the usual surgery, rehab, etc, his doctor suggested that he start walking to get back into physical activity… The doctor told him that he shouldn’t plan on basketball anymore… So he began walking, and walking, and walking… He indicated that he hated it, and hated it, and hated it… He said that he saw me out during the fall, during the winter… Saw me out in the cold, in the snow, and even saw me yell at a motorist while out on a run… He decided that he wanted to try running if but only because he figured that if running is something that is important enough to do in all sorts of weather and such; he had to try it…
He is up to 5 miles, and plans on running races this summer in Grand Haven… He said that he had always wanted to stop me when he saw me out (whether he was out in his yard, running, biking, or driving around) just to tell him about this story, but was reluctant to do so. His explanation was that “…you were running so fast that I didn’t want to annoy you by stopping you during your workout…” I told him that I will always be willing to stop a run (especially to catch my breath) and that I will look for him at the next race (perhaps Snug Harbor)… I also mentioned that I would be willing to pace him for his first race (provided I can keep up) if he would like…
Just wanted to share a poignant moment that galvanizes in my mind why I run… Yeah running fast seems like it would be fun; racing and winning must be a great feeling; but it is a nice feeling to be singled out as having positively influenced one runner one time… Steve is running 11 minute miles, but he’s running. No race team, no age-group medal (not yet at least) but an interest in something that started as therapy… I sometimes take for granted this running…
Don’t forget to thank the volunteers.
Rico.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Sorry Another Busy Week at Work...
Kevin B is a free subscription winner... He entered the drawing by checking in during the past week...
Don't forget to thank the volunteers.
Rico
Don't forget to thank the volunteers.
Rico
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
"...I Am not an Animal..."
So I’m sitting here thinking about the upcoming race, and what I enjoy about them… Woo Hoo! The pageantry, the sights, sounds, and smells… Good Times! So in a previous post I mentioned the whole race gear thing; well actually I only delved into approximately 27% of it… I kind of lost interest/focus… Hey, cool, this site has a Bold key… Sorry about that.
Racing carries with it such hope and optimism… A fresh clock to tick away… Every race is unique. You never see the same people, the same course, the same post race spread of food, or the same awards… Yeah, sarcasm doesn’t work so well in print… So let us examine the Race Experience...
So after getting 15 minutes of sleep the night before, you begin the pilgrimage to the race… The race really begins during the drive to the event… As you other arriving “half-stepping” begins behind the wheel. Everyone has a strategy for which route to take and where to park; speeding up ahead of the car next to you… You scan the other cars as they make their way to some form of parking… Of course, the lemming effect (hey now, there it is again!) takes over as drivers all look around and sort of follow the lead car as they navigate the traffic blockage. For some of us, this is the race; Age group be damned!
This affect (I know that is incorrect, just checking if you are awake!) continues as the runners make their way to registration… Heading towards registration, it is most preferred to walk in with your “group”… Walking by yourself to sign up is akin to going to a High School dance alone. You are an outcast… A loser… I have learned to reconcile that fact years ago (at middle school dances), and it allows me to be more observant of my surroundings…
Excitement is palpable as you see this mass of people seeping in a general migration to, well quite frankly, where everyone else is heading… This is where it gets fun! You always have the ones that believe they are getting in line for U2 concert tickets as they weave and elbow and wedge their way through the crowd. The race isn’t closed, there isn’t great stuff to collect, nor are the girls at pre/late registration hot… There is no need to hustle!! I can only think of 3 reasons to justify this…
Registration is Closing. There is nothing worse than waking up early (on a Saturday no less!!), for that matter not going out on the Friday night before, only to get there and the race is closed, the cool SWAG is gone, or they lost your app… The last two have happened an it sucks… If I cannot have a cotton t-shirt made in Sri Lanka that will be 2 sizes too small after the first wash, or not be registered, then screw it… Let me know, and I will sleep in!
Crop Duster. Let’s be frank here. Uneasy night of sleep, coupled with nerves, coupled with something light for breakfast such as banana’s and Gatorade, is a science experiment gone wrong. The cup of coffee is simply the catalyst! This roiling cacophony of food types works its’ way through the system 5 minutes faster than the trip from home to race site… As you cut the cord, you pick up the pace… It is the group of runners 15 yards back that begin to look around for the perpetrator…
The Turtlehead or The Prairie Dogger. Crop dusting gone wrong or the body has processed breakfast 10 minutes faster than the trip from home… What ever the case may be, we all know it and we all dread it… If it has ever happened to you, it is a frightening ordeal that scars… I shouldn’t need to write anymore; in fact I’ll be right back…
OK, thanks for waiting, I feel better now… These 3 scenarios invariably lead to the same checkpoint as it were… The doors. Regardless of how quickly the three above arrive, there is a double door entrance (typically a school) with only one door open. The lemmings all arrive and cluster at the door, around the door, adjacent to the door, and of course blocking the (other) door. It looks like traffic in downtown Rome… The second door eventually gets opened; but only after the crowd dwindles, and allowing access to this second door. All the while there is genuine fear that this portal leads to an alternate site and race somewhere near Beijing. Its gotta be!
All three people above meet at the door. All have panic on their faces as the bottleneck grows. One of the three is dying a thousand deaths as movement (of people, if you know what I mean) stops. Of course, that one is the “Registration Closing” person… The other two know that they are already screwed… There is no way they will make it the bathroom… They will still have to wait in line for the bathroom… Prospects are grim! See, they know this… They’re already looking for an empty classroom… They just need to get through the door!
Standing in line at the registration table can be a great study in human behavior… There is grant money just waiting for the right research project here… Again, Good Times! Standing around waiting seems to be a significant component of the racing event… In reality, more time is spent waiting around than actually running. I have empirical evidence of this fact; and we all know by now that you cannot argue with science! I know some of you don’t believe me; and you are idiots… Just kidding. Seriously though…
Don’t believe me? I challenge you readers out there… All two of you… At the next race, time the wait… At the doors (see above for the poor reading retention people), in line registering, in line at the bathroom, before approaching the starting line, at the starting line, at the finish line (think corral), before results are posted… The longer the race distance, the longer the wait… It’s science! Provide evidence to the contrary, and I will give you a free subscription to this blog… I’m just saying… You can always consciously alter, somewhat, this waiting time, but that is like solving a physics problem and assuming that there is no friction…
Waiting at Registration.
Gumby the Gymnast. There are always those that try to make the wait more efficient… It is a noble effort… Personally, I will begin working on my MBA this season while I wait in line. I’ve already begun the on-line course work… Hell, I might even get some help with my homework… The lesser motivated however; use this time to stretch… No doubt that the 15 second intervals between line movements can offer ample time to stretch those soon to be taxed muscles… I remember seeing last year, a guy wheel up a Pilate’s table/bench/”apparatus” while in line… Either that or he was rebuilding his lawnmower engine… Is that really helping? Really.
The Oblivious. There they are again! With a James Stockdalesque demeanor (yeah you really have to check each of the 3 linkls out), they progress along in line tape-delayed slow. This itself isn’t a problem; after all waiting 15 feet away from the registration table is really no different than waiting 10 feet away, until you are close enough to engage the volunteers. Perhaps they are saving valuable energy for the race itself…
No, the problem is when they get to the table. They don’t know what is next. They are unprepared. Maybe they were talking with friends, or maybe they were reading a future race app that was left on other “staging” tables. They may even have been talking on their phone (or checking email); bracing for an encounter with Dakota and Braylee’s non-gender specific parent...
While this is bad, nothing approaches the eighth or ninth ring of Dante’s hell, quite like the person that is alone in line with none of these specific distractions that these others have for excuses. They get to the table not having fully completed (correctly) their app, not quite sure who to make the check out to (or haven’t even begun to fill in the basic parts like amount, or their signature), or aren’t sure what shirt size they want. I stand behind these people at Jimmy John’s all the time… “Oh… I’m supposed to order food now?” I mean it…
When confronted with the challenging question: “what size T-shirt would you like?” invariably they reply (BTW nothing worse than answering a question with a question) “How much will these shrink?” Now, remember, these are volunteers. They are someone’s mom, girlfriend, or wife. They dragged their asses out of bed just to remind runners that the friggin’ safety pins are in the box right in front of them!! Jeez! Garment sizing and care instructions are not their forte’… They most likely do not live oh, say near 40th in NY City. Just a hunch.
Now that runner has their number, chip, bag etc, they feel compelled to move away from their spot in line/at the table, a whole 9 inches. Literally. There they stand with their heads in the bag looking at all the crap included. It’s Christmas for them with “buy one get one free” coupons to restaurants they will never visit... Free inspection by a local podiatrist (which can come in handy after waiting in line all this time) beckons as they dig deeper in the bag. My personal favorite is the refrigerator magnet from some insurance salesman that won’t even hold up it’s own weight (there are forums for this!). Yet there they stand...
The Ass. These are the ones (and we have all seen them) that just can’t be “good with it”. Whatever the “it” is… The race info is incorrect, the safety pins are too big (or small), the race fee is too expensive… My favorite is when the shirts run out… No I don’t mean like in a Grimm’s Fairy Tale, with an empty shirt, a broom and a block of cheese all animating and busting ass out the door, I mean that there are no more shirts… So now it is the volunteer’s fault! Never mind that the conspiracy to deprive the Ass of a shirt would mimic that of Capricorn 1… That shirt is why they showed up to run!
I’m getting way too worked up, I gotta stop right here… Think of it as interval writing… I will continue this later…
Don’t forget to thank the volunteers. Hey I get it! This is a closing signature!
Rico
Racing carries with it such hope and optimism… A fresh clock to tick away… Every race is unique. You never see the same people, the same course, the same post race spread of food, or the same awards… Yeah, sarcasm doesn’t work so well in print… So let us examine the Race Experience...
So after getting 15 minutes of sleep the night before, you begin the pilgrimage to the race… The race really begins during the drive to the event… As you other arriving “half-stepping” begins behind the wheel. Everyone has a strategy for which route to take and where to park; speeding up ahead of the car next to you… You scan the other cars as they make their way to some form of parking… Of course, the lemming effect (hey now, there it is again!) takes over as drivers all look around and sort of follow the lead car as they navigate the traffic blockage. For some of us, this is the race; Age group be damned!
This affect (I know that is incorrect, just checking if you are awake!) continues as the runners make their way to registration… Heading towards registration, it is most preferred to walk in with your “group”… Walking by yourself to sign up is akin to going to a High School dance alone. You are an outcast… A loser… I have learned to reconcile that fact years ago (at middle school dances), and it allows me to be more observant of my surroundings…
Excitement is palpable as you see this mass of people seeping in a general migration to, well quite frankly, where everyone else is heading… This is where it gets fun! You always have the ones that believe they are getting in line for U2 concert tickets as they weave and elbow and wedge their way through the crowd. The race isn’t closed, there isn’t great stuff to collect, nor are the girls at pre/late registration hot… There is no need to hustle!! I can only think of 3 reasons to justify this…
Registration is Closing. There is nothing worse than waking up early (on a Saturday no less!!), for that matter not going out on the Friday night before, only to get there and the race is closed, the cool SWAG is gone, or they lost your app… The last two have happened an it sucks… If I cannot have a cotton t-shirt made in Sri Lanka that will be 2 sizes too small after the first wash, or not be registered, then screw it… Let me know, and I will sleep in!
Crop Duster. Let’s be frank here. Uneasy night of sleep, coupled with nerves, coupled with something light for breakfast such as banana’s and Gatorade, is a science experiment gone wrong. The cup of coffee is simply the catalyst! This roiling cacophony of food types works its’ way through the system 5 minutes faster than the trip from home to race site… As you cut the cord, you pick up the pace… It is the group of runners 15 yards back that begin to look around for the perpetrator…
The Turtlehead or The Prairie Dogger. Crop dusting gone wrong or the body has processed breakfast 10 minutes faster than the trip from home… What ever the case may be, we all know it and we all dread it… If it has ever happened to you, it is a frightening ordeal that scars… I shouldn’t need to write anymore; in fact I’ll be right back…
OK, thanks for waiting, I feel better now… These 3 scenarios invariably lead to the same checkpoint as it were… The doors. Regardless of how quickly the three above arrive, there is a double door entrance (typically a school) with only one door open. The lemmings all arrive and cluster at the door, around the door, adjacent to the door, and of course blocking the (other) door. It looks like traffic in downtown Rome… The second door eventually gets opened; but only after the crowd dwindles, and allowing access to this second door. All the while there is genuine fear that this portal leads to an alternate site and race somewhere near Beijing. Its gotta be!
All three people above meet at the door. All have panic on their faces as the bottleneck grows. One of the three is dying a thousand deaths as movement (of people, if you know what I mean) stops. Of course, that one is the “Registration Closing” person… The other two know that they are already screwed… There is no way they will make it the bathroom… They will still have to wait in line for the bathroom… Prospects are grim! See, they know this… They’re already looking for an empty classroom… They just need to get through the door!
Standing in line at the registration table can be a great study in human behavior… There is grant money just waiting for the right research project here… Again, Good Times! Standing around waiting seems to be a significant component of the racing event… In reality, more time is spent waiting around than actually running. I have empirical evidence of this fact; and we all know by now that you cannot argue with science! I know some of you don’t believe me; and you are idiots… Just kidding. Seriously though…
Don’t believe me? I challenge you readers out there… All two of you… At the next race, time the wait… At the doors (see above for the poor reading retention people), in line registering, in line at the bathroom, before approaching the starting line, at the starting line, at the finish line (think corral), before results are posted… The longer the race distance, the longer the wait… It’s science! Provide evidence to the contrary, and I will give you a free subscription to this blog… I’m just saying… You can always consciously alter, somewhat, this waiting time, but that is like solving a physics problem and assuming that there is no friction…
Waiting at Registration.
Gumby the Gymnast. There are always those that try to make the wait more efficient… It is a noble effort… Personally, I will begin working on my MBA this season while I wait in line. I’ve already begun the on-line course work… Hell, I might even get some help with my homework… The lesser motivated however; use this time to stretch… No doubt that the 15 second intervals between line movements can offer ample time to stretch those soon to be taxed muscles… I remember seeing last year, a guy wheel up a Pilate’s table/bench/”apparatus” while in line… Either that or he was rebuilding his lawnmower engine… Is that really helping? Really.
The Oblivious. There they are again! With a James Stockdalesque demeanor (yeah you really have to check each of the 3 linkls out), they progress along in line tape-delayed slow. This itself isn’t a problem; after all waiting 15 feet away from the registration table is really no different than waiting 10 feet away, until you are close enough to engage the volunteers. Perhaps they are saving valuable energy for the race itself…
No, the problem is when they get to the table. They don’t know what is next. They are unprepared. Maybe they were talking with friends, or maybe they were reading a future race app that was left on other “staging” tables. They may even have been talking on their phone (or checking email); bracing for an encounter with Dakota and Braylee’s non-gender specific parent...
While this is bad, nothing approaches the eighth or ninth ring of Dante’s hell, quite like the person that is alone in line with none of these specific distractions that these others have for excuses. They get to the table not having fully completed (correctly) their app, not quite sure who to make the check out to (or haven’t even begun to fill in the basic parts like amount, or their signature), or aren’t sure what shirt size they want. I stand behind these people at Jimmy John’s all the time… “Oh… I’m supposed to order food now?” I mean it…
When confronted with the challenging question: “what size T-shirt would you like?” invariably they reply (BTW nothing worse than answering a question with a question) “How much will these shrink?” Now, remember, these are volunteers. They are someone’s mom, girlfriend, or wife. They dragged their asses out of bed just to remind runners that the friggin’ safety pins are in the box right in front of them!! Jeez! Garment sizing and care instructions are not their forte’… They most likely do not live oh, say near 40th in NY City. Just a hunch.
Now that runner has their number, chip, bag etc, they feel compelled to move away from their spot in line/at the table, a whole 9 inches. Literally. There they stand with their heads in the bag looking at all the crap included. It’s Christmas for them with “buy one get one free” coupons to restaurants they will never visit... Free inspection by a local podiatrist (which can come in handy after waiting in line all this time) beckons as they dig deeper in the bag. My personal favorite is the refrigerator magnet from some insurance salesman that won’t even hold up it’s own weight (there are forums for this!). Yet there they stand...
The Ass. These are the ones (and we have all seen them) that just can’t be “good with it”. Whatever the “it” is… The race info is incorrect, the safety pins are too big (or small), the race fee is too expensive… My favorite is when the shirts run out… No I don’t mean like in a Grimm’s Fairy Tale, with an empty shirt, a broom and a block of cheese all animating and busting ass out the door, I mean that there are no more shirts… So now it is the volunteer’s fault! Never mind that the conspiracy to deprive the Ass of a shirt would mimic that of Capricorn 1… That shirt is why they showed up to run!
I’m getting way too worked up, I gotta stop right here… Think of it as interval writing… I will continue this later…
Don’t forget to thank the volunteers. Hey I get it! This is a closing signature!
Rico
Monday, March 16, 2009
This never gets old...
http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/fucker
or this one
http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/asshole
Sorry, I am sophomoric at heart...
Don't forget to thank the volunteers.
Rico
http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/fucker
or this one
http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/asshole
Sorry, I am sophomoric at heart...
Don't forget to thank the volunteers.
Rico
"... That's it Farfel. Party's Over! Start Packing up Your Little Squeeze Toys Buddy Boy. You're Checking Out!..."
Tough week for me... Not a whole lot from the weekend except for a brief encounter with a dog on our run on Saturday... Kind of funny... Well, I thought it was funny... For the dog-loving profanity challenged, it probably isn't... I will brief...
Running along on 32 St and several of the guys were ahead of me... I happened to see a dog approach the bike path and growl quite viciously as they ran past... They seemed to be caught off guard by this... Ever the dog-lover that I am (when running), I made the mental note...
Of course as I approach the house, the dog takes two steps towards me and begins to growl... He/it got a half growl out when I yelled "#%*&(*@ You" at the dog as I ran by it... The startled and surprised dog stopped mid growl and sat down as I ran by... That poor dog was debacled by me, and the rest of his canine friends will be giving him crap for days... That is of course if there were any dog witnesses... Hey, I never said this was hilarious or anything...
The upcoming week will be a tough one for me... Don't expect daily posts... Strike that... Check in daily, you may win valuable prizes and a free subscription... My goal is to get enough viewers to move up the blog ladder... I see that comments have been scarce... I cannot believe that I have written nothing to illicit a response, an opinion, a contrary view... C'mon, pithy is good!
Don't forget to thank the volunteers.
Rico
Running along on 32 St and several of the guys were ahead of me... I happened to see a dog approach the bike path and growl quite viciously as they ran past... They seemed to be caught off guard by this... Ever the dog-lover that I am (when running), I made the mental note...
Of course as I approach the house, the dog takes two steps towards me and begins to growl... He/it got a half growl out when I yelled "#%*&(*@ You" at the dog as I ran by it... The startled and surprised dog stopped mid growl and sat down as I ran by... That poor dog was debacled by me, and the rest of his canine friends will be giving him crap for days... That is of course if there were any dog witnesses... Hey, I never said this was hilarious or anything...
The upcoming week will be a tough one for me... Don't expect daily posts... Strike that... Check in daily, you may win valuable prizes and a free subscription... My goal is to get enough viewers to move up the blog ladder... I see that comments have been scarce... I cannot believe that I have written nothing to illicit a response, an opinion, a contrary view... C'mon, pithy is good!
Don't forget to thank the volunteers.
Rico
Friday, March 13, 2009
"Isosceles. You Know, I Love the Name Isoscceles. If I Had a Kid, I would Name Him Isosceles..."
This isn’t a post about running, but really, does it need to be? I was in line today, and a parent stood in front of me with their two children. I will pause and let that sink in. I am using the “their” in a non-gendered singular possessive case (referring to the parent). I am doing that because I am very sensitive to other peoples’ feelings and self-worth. Really. I am insecure like everyone else. I don’t have a seatbelt on right now… The gender of the parent was quite evident.
I never fully understood how parents decide their child’s name… I wonder if naming rights should be managed much like gun purchases… There needs to be a waiting period before the name is cleared/approved. I really don’t blame the children, other than they eventually grow older and repeat the cycle… back to my story.
So I am standing in the aforementioned line… Notice I didn’t mention whether (hey, there it is!) I was at Wal-Mart, or at the library, but I’m sure you’ll figure it out… Actually the where is immaterial… So I am standing in the line behind the unspecified gendered parent with two children. I jump at the roll call of “Dakota” and “Braylee”… Now I cannot confirm the spelling; I am guessing at this… For all I know it could be “Ducotuh” and “Brale” or “Brailey”, kind of like “Sciency”… I’m just saying…
Now I will not go into all of the rules regarding naming a child, as I only have a 500 word limit in this post… Let’s look at the names:
Dakota. I will not go into breaking the word down because I know very little about Linguistics other than it is a wider noodle than fettuccine. Is the child named in honor of the great directional states? If so, “Louise Anna” would be a great alternate... If you really want to doom the child, I recommend “Idaho”… How that will be an ice-breaker at some future party! I’ll let you use your imagination here… Or, the child is named in honor of one’s favorite vehicle (pronounced ve-hickel)… I guess you could have chosen Probe, or the Cube… Rule of thumb: You shouldn’t name a child after the place said child was conceived.
Braylee. WTH. Seriously. What is one of these? Is this like a unicorn? Is it a Liger? I know that a goat brays, or something like that… I know that there is a town in Ireland… Beyond that? Really? Not much more I can say about that…
So as I stand in line, these kids are ramming around (they are approx 6-8 yrs old) and being somewhat annoying… I have no issue with this per say. Now I admit that I was one of those people… I was reading an email while standing waiting… As I am sure you can guess, one of the kids ran into me and true to form, promptly fell on the floor. Thinking that Dakota would be counseled/cared for by said parent, I was surprised when the parent looked at me, and said, “What did you just do to my child?” Perhaps I should have counted to ten before mentioning “nothing as irreparable as you’ve already done…” I think the parent had a three syllable limit, as they replied with, “yeah whatever, just play with your phone…” Oddly chagrined, it occurs to me later, that I might have been debacled…
As I drove away, I began to invest more thought (than it really deserved) into the exchange… Certainly my value system is unique to me. I understand that not everyone is as well grounded as me (after all, I barely get off the ground running… Hey this post does include running stuff!), but with names like those, are you really helping things? I get the “a rose by any other name”, however, I can’t really recall a company President, CEO, or even IT Manager, with the name Dakota, or Braylee… Granted, I’m sure that William and Julia Redenbacher might have taken some guff from a guy standing in line at the feed store with his handheld telegragh device, while Orville was running around… He turned out OK… I’m just saying…
Short post today, you are all getting spoiled.
Don’t forget to thank the volunteers.
Rico
I never fully understood how parents decide their child’s name… I wonder if naming rights should be managed much like gun purchases… There needs to be a waiting period before the name is cleared/approved. I really don’t blame the children, other than they eventually grow older and repeat the cycle… back to my story.
So I am standing in the aforementioned line… Notice I didn’t mention whether (hey, there it is!) I was at Wal-Mart, or at the library, but I’m sure you’ll figure it out… Actually the where is immaterial… So I am standing in the line behind the unspecified gendered parent with two children. I jump at the roll call of “Dakota” and “Braylee”… Now I cannot confirm the spelling; I am guessing at this… For all I know it could be “Ducotuh” and “Brale” or “Brailey”, kind of like “Sciency”… I’m just saying…
Now I will not go into all of the rules regarding naming a child, as I only have a 500 word limit in this post… Let’s look at the names:
Dakota. I will not go into breaking the word down because I know very little about Linguistics other than it is a wider noodle than fettuccine. Is the child named in honor of the great directional states? If so, “Louise Anna” would be a great alternate... If you really want to doom the child, I recommend “Idaho”… How that will be an ice-breaker at some future party! I’ll let you use your imagination here… Or, the child is named in honor of one’s favorite vehicle (pronounced ve-hickel)… I guess you could have chosen Probe, or the Cube… Rule of thumb: You shouldn’t name a child after the place said child was conceived.
Braylee. WTH. Seriously. What is one of these? Is this like a unicorn? Is it a Liger? I know that a goat brays, or something like that… I know that there is a town in Ireland… Beyond that? Really? Not much more I can say about that…
So as I stand in line, these kids are ramming around (they are approx 6-8 yrs old) and being somewhat annoying… I have no issue with this per say. Now I admit that I was one of those people… I was reading an email while standing waiting… As I am sure you can guess, one of the kids ran into me and true to form, promptly fell on the floor. Thinking that Dakota would be counseled/cared for by said parent, I was surprised when the parent looked at me, and said, “What did you just do to my child?” Perhaps I should have counted to ten before mentioning “nothing as irreparable as you’ve already done…” I think the parent had a three syllable limit, as they replied with, “yeah whatever, just play with your phone…” Oddly chagrined, it occurs to me later, that I might have been debacled…
As I drove away, I began to invest more thought (than it really deserved) into the exchange… Certainly my value system is unique to me. I understand that not everyone is as well grounded as me (after all, I barely get off the ground running… Hey this post does include running stuff!), but with names like those, are you really helping things? I get the “a rose by any other name”, however, I can’t really recall a company President, CEO, or even IT Manager, with the name Dakota, or Braylee… Granted, I’m sure that William and Julia Redenbacher might have taken some guff from a guy standing in line at the feed store with his handheld telegragh device, while Orville was running around… He turned out OK… I’m just saying…
Short post today, you are all getting spoiled.
Don’t forget to thank the volunteers.
Rico
Thursday, March 12, 2009
"Yada, Yada, Yada" or "Am I a Hipster-Doofus?"
So the team (this may be foreshadowing referring to the team non-possessive) is getting organized as the “official” race season begins. Team uniforms, individual race schedules, team race goals, yada, yada, yada… Racing is an individual sport… There’s no teamwork… Yeah I know that I’m supposed to act like I am happy for the other guys, but, yada, yada, yada… No seriously, I am genuinely happy for the guys when they do well at races… After all, there are perks to hanging out with good runners.
The primary benefit is that I get to grab more than my share of post race grub (all because I mention that I’m getting this for one of the guys)! I routinely fill my cupboards with extra bagels, Gatorade, and bananas… I go to races as part of my shopping spree; merely walking around post-race like some bag lady sans the bag… I never have to go shopping! The Dutch in my namesake rings out!
In all the years of this “elite by association” I have garnered a free towel at the River Bank Run; it is awesome to have! I have even been congratulated at races for having run fast, simply by hanging out with this group! I see the look of admiration from the spectators. I swear I’ve seen that “look” from some of the co-ed spectators. Truthfully, my race times are getting slower, due to me focusing more on looking at the crowd rather than on competing… I know this is why… If I can offer any advise to the fast guys (if they are reading), Chicks don’t dig fast guys, if you know what I mean… Not that! Jeez, this is a PG-13 site! Fast runners force the spectator to pay attention during the race… Blink and you miss them… Picture taking is tough as well…
Think about it… Most races start pretty early on a Saturday morning… Just what the non-runner will want to do… Get up early, Zombie-walk through a crowd of smelly people with that “runner smell”… You know what I’m talking about… And the above mentioned she (or in fake-named Tad’s case he) will get out early to check out the guys running… Now if you have gone through the effort to get out and look good, do you really want the whole “event” to pass by quickly?
Not a chance…
Seriously… I know the fast runners are self-absorbed, concerned with proper fueling and preparation… I’ve seen it first hand… They carefully attach their number on their singlets (for you non-runners, a singlet is a wife-beater that isn’t all stained with Mountain Dew and blood, like on “Cops”. Or at least there is no blood before the race…) with the precision of a cabinet-maker… You will literally see T-Squares and protractors used to position/center the number…
When it comes to fuel systems (yeah, it sounds like race car design), you see guys measuring out sport drink, endurance swill, placebo powder with pharmaceutical scales on the hood of their cars… I tend to swerve away from these guys for two reasons… Either there will be an explosion (think powder/grain silo mishaps), or some gun play… I half expect to see a cliched briefcase filled with cash, and a guy sticking his pinkie in his mouth to “test”…
I find most comical the ones that focus on weight… Someone at some point determined that less weight carried will allow you to run faster, longer… Makes some sense here… I would dig up some Physics equation for you, but as I am still paying student loans, I cannot share any equations until my tuition is paid off… For the non-running audience, road runners have two basic types of shoes… Training shoes, and racing flats.
Training Shoe
Now I know what you are thinking… One of you out there was visualizing if only for a picosecond (ps if you are scoring at home) a shoe that has little stabilizers, or training wheels if you will… The desired effect (hey! There it is!) of course, is to help you run without falling over (actually, that would be helpful)… Almost as though you have just learned how to run… Perhaps shoe manufacturers should design a shoe with broken glass and hypodermic needles embedded in the soles. Sort of training for what you’ll feel like later in the race… The shoe is ugly, and is too heavy to race in… You cannot race in this shoe. I believe that at larger, more prestigious races, race officials will pull you out and move you to the back of the pack because of this violation… I am keeping a close watch on this development!
Racing Flat
This engineering marvel consists of a strip of the Sham-Wow™ sonic-welded to some bubble wrap. The purpose is to provide the lightest footwear imagined. One small detail often overlooked, is that these people now have to look very closely were they run, constantly looking at the ground beneath them. Stepping on a piece of gum, or any sort of mud will now triple the weight of the shoe.
The race (no pun) is to continually make a shoe lighter and lighter… Next week I will be wearing my anti-matter shoes. Shoes so light they actually absorb weight… I think they’re German or something… Of course you don’t want to train in these shoes… God-forbid you might run fast on a training run… Sincerely, I worry that some poindexter is in the lab working on the next generation of race shoe and develops something without comprehensive product validation. My worst fear is that during a race, I will inadvertently spill Gatorade on said shoe and a horrific chemical reaction will take place (For you sciency people include exo- or endothermic after the horrific)…
Apparel
I will describe apparel in general; this was what I originally intended to write about… I have already touched on the “wife-beater” oops, I meant singlet… You must have “technical wear”… Loosely translated it means synthetic fiber gear. Even looser, it means polyester. Now, this isn’t your 70’s polyester, as I don’t think that you will burst into flames at the mere thought of a Bic lighter… Really, though, that’s what it is… We’re not talking Brady Bunch, with the paisley and brown with avocado… No, this is better! How do we know? Duh, it’s more expensive! How else would you know that it is better! I am convinced that Tippets (Greek Mythology reference here) would have survived if he had the right gear described above!
When I first started running, I swore I would never be the one with the coordinated outfit. You’ve seen them… Matching gear… Same manufacturer… Prefabbed appearance… Lunchables if you will (not in a freaky “Get in my Belly” sort of way)… If not for the human characteristics, they would look like a running store mannequin… I wouldn’t ever really say that they were stylish, but certainly forethought and planning went into their “look” (different kind of look than above)…
I am legendary in my lack of effort to coordinate. Pearl Izumi, Asics, Nike, Mizuno, it didn’t matter… Pit marks, tears, threadware, I’m good with… When I figure out how to do it, I’ll post a picture of me in “Golden Boy”… Here I am though now with the opportunity to race for the team. The team with a uniform. The team with a uniform that matches. I actually care about what it will look like, and of course how I look in it… Actually I made that last one up… I look good in anything… I meant how my teammates look…
There are more of them than I… Simple probability dictates that the odds of them being seen are greater than my being seen (more of that education!)… Statistically, they have a greater chance of wrecking people’s perception of me… All before I have a chance to open my mouth… I’m just saying.
I just have to make sure that Mrs. Despeedstra (not my mom) isn’t reading this (which is a highly likely possibility) blog. Indeed.
By the way I am still trying to get a good handle on this formatting thing. Bear with me as I figure out what font, spacing, text size etc. needs to be… Regarding content, screw you. Help write then you can complain. Or join as a follower and help get this on Google’s radar… After all, I know the Fed’s are watching this site, might as well get others too… I’m just saying.
Don’t forget to thank the volunteers.
Rico
The primary benefit is that I get to grab more than my share of post race grub (all because I mention that I’m getting this for one of the guys)! I routinely fill my cupboards with extra bagels, Gatorade, and bananas… I go to races as part of my shopping spree; merely walking around post-race like some bag lady sans the bag… I never have to go shopping! The Dutch in my namesake rings out!
In all the years of this “elite by association” I have garnered a free towel at the River Bank Run; it is awesome to have! I have even been congratulated at races for having run fast, simply by hanging out with this group! I see the look of admiration from the spectators. I swear I’ve seen that “look” from some of the co-ed spectators. Truthfully, my race times are getting slower, due to me focusing more on looking at the crowd rather than on competing… I know this is why… If I can offer any advise to the fast guys (if they are reading), Chicks don’t dig fast guys, if you know what I mean… Not that! Jeez, this is a PG-13 site! Fast runners force the spectator to pay attention during the race… Blink and you miss them… Picture taking is tough as well…
Think about it… Most races start pretty early on a Saturday morning… Just what the non-runner will want to do… Get up early, Zombie-walk through a crowd of smelly people with that “runner smell”… You know what I’m talking about… And the above mentioned she (or in fake-named Tad’s case he) will get out early to check out the guys running… Now if you have gone through the effort to get out and look good, do you really want the whole “event” to pass by quickly?
Not a chance…
Seriously… I know the fast runners are self-absorbed, concerned with proper fueling and preparation… I’ve seen it first hand… They carefully attach their number on their singlets (for you non-runners, a singlet is a wife-beater that isn’t all stained with Mountain Dew and blood, like on “Cops”. Or at least there is no blood before the race…) with the precision of a cabinet-maker… You will literally see T-Squares and protractors used to position/center the number…
When it comes to fuel systems (yeah, it sounds like race car design), you see guys measuring out sport drink, endurance swill, placebo powder with pharmaceutical scales on the hood of their cars… I tend to swerve away from these guys for two reasons… Either there will be an explosion (think powder/grain silo mishaps), or some gun play… I half expect to see a cliched briefcase filled with cash, and a guy sticking his pinkie in his mouth to “test”…
I find most comical the ones that focus on weight… Someone at some point determined that less weight carried will allow you to run faster, longer… Makes some sense here… I would dig up some Physics equation for you, but as I am still paying student loans, I cannot share any equations until my tuition is paid off… For the non-running audience, road runners have two basic types of shoes… Training shoes, and racing flats.
Training Shoe
Now I know what you are thinking… One of you out there was visualizing if only for a picosecond (ps if you are scoring at home) a shoe that has little stabilizers, or training wheels if you will… The desired effect (hey! There it is!) of course, is to help you run without falling over (actually, that would be helpful)… Almost as though you have just learned how to run… Perhaps shoe manufacturers should design a shoe with broken glass and hypodermic needles embedded in the soles. Sort of training for what you’ll feel like later in the race… The shoe is ugly, and is too heavy to race in… You cannot race in this shoe. I believe that at larger, more prestigious races, race officials will pull you out and move you to the back of the pack because of this violation… I am keeping a close watch on this development!
Racing Flat
This engineering marvel consists of a strip of the Sham-Wow™ sonic-welded to some bubble wrap. The purpose is to provide the lightest footwear imagined. One small detail often overlooked, is that these people now have to look very closely were they run, constantly looking at the ground beneath them. Stepping on a piece of gum, or any sort of mud will now triple the weight of the shoe.
The race (no pun) is to continually make a shoe lighter and lighter… Next week I will be wearing my anti-matter shoes. Shoes so light they actually absorb weight… I think they’re German or something… Of course you don’t want to train in these shoes… God-forbid you might run fast on a training run… Sincerely, I worry that some poindexter is in the lab working on the next generation of race shoe and develops something without comprehensive product validation. My worst fear is that during a race, I will inadvertently spill Gatorade on said shoe and a horrific chemical reaction will take place (For you sciency people include exo- or endothermic after the horrific)…
Apparel
I will describe apparel in general; this was what I originally intended to write about… I have already touched on the “wife-beater” oops, I meant singlet… You must have “technical wear”… Loosely translated it means synthetic fiber gear. Even looser, it means polyester. Now, this isn’t your 70’s polyester, as I don’t think that you will burst into flames at the mere thought of a Bic lighter… Really, though, that’s what it is… We’re not talking Brady Bunch, with the paisley and brown with avocado… No, this is better! How do we know? Duh, it’s more expensive! How else would you know that it is better! I am convinced that Tippets (Greek Mythology reference here) would have survived if he had the right gear described above!
When I first started running, I swore I would never be the one with the coordinated outfit. You’ve seen them… Matching gear… Same manufacturer… Prefabbed appearance… Lunchables if you will (not in a freaky “Get in my Belly” sort of way)… If not for the human characteristics, they would look like a running store mannequin… I wouldn’t ever really say that they were stylish, but certainly forethought and planning went into their “look” (different kind of look than above)…
I am legendary in my lack of effort to coordinate. Pearl Izumi, Asics, Nike, Mizuno, it didn’t matter… Pit marks, tears, threadware, I’m good with… When I figure out how to do it, I’ll post a picture of me in “Golden Boy”… Here I am though now with the opportunity to race for the team. The team with a uniform. The team with a uniform that matches. I actually care about what it will look like, and of course how I look in it… Actually I made that last one up… I look good in anything… I meant how my teammates look…
There are more of them than I… Simple probability dictates that the odds of them being seen are greater than my being seen (more of that education!)… Statistically, they have a greater chance of wrecking people’s perception of me… All before I have a chance to open my mouth… I’m just saying.
I just have to make sure that Mrs. Despeedstra (not my mom) isn’t reading this (which is a highly likely possibility) blog. Indeed.
By the way I am still trying to get a good handle on this formatting thing. Bear with me as I figure out what font, spacing, text size etc. needs to be… Regarding content, screw you. Help write then you can complain. Or join as a follower and help get this on Google’s radar… After all, I know the Fed’s are watching this site, might as well get others too… I’m just saying.
Don’t forget to thank the volunteers.
Rico
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
"You Might Not Know it to Look at Me, but I can Run Really, Really Fast..."
And so this post begins… It looks like I will be a free-agent this year… I would say running “unattached”, but that has a creepy sort of connotation. I might have more on this post (or a re-post) at a later time… I smell a funny one later… For those of you out there lurking, we have made the big time!! A book tour will begin to materialize…
Don’t forget to thank the volunteers.
Rico
Don’t forget to thank the volunteers.
Rico
"If the Pig-Man Had a Car, He'd Give You a Ride." or "No, I Don't Have a Square to Spare. I Can't Spare a Square."
Today’s run produced a typical scene experienced by any runner that runs on the road (treadmillers, feel free to read on; Hey! I just made up a word!!)… The motorist that cannot spare any of the road… As a lucid and rational runner, I can accept that running on a major road may engender a sense of annoyance for motorists trying to navigate their way.
I understand that we (runners) at times, don’t help our cause as our community will at times dart in and out of traffic without warning… I know we are guilty of not obeying “traffic laws” as we prance down the street (that is for one of the guys; I will use the alias of “Steve” for that runner) running in the same direction as traffic,,,
I personally will fight for that strip of snow-free pavement during the winter months, at the risk of a hip-replacement-by-outside-mirror procedure… I can understand why some motorists can be nozzles…
What I have a hard time with is the time honored tradition of the motorist that cannot give you any road… “Can’t spare a square.” Predictably the road will be empty (not even a painted center line), yet said driver will cling to the lane… I could understand if the driver was drunk and on his way home wary of any swerve that would trigger the “erratic driving” sensor…
That death grip control of the steering wheel that demands total focus not seen since driver’s ed… Hands at 2 & 10, with the radio off at the exact speed of the posted limit, I get that… Who hasn’t done that? C’mon that was a joke… Rico does not endorse drinking and driving… Why wreck a perfectly good buzz by focusing on “the one in the middle”…
No usually, the offending party can be identified as one of three groups:
The Oblivious. Totally unaware of the fact that they are driving, or anything else, they often times won’t move over until they have passed you. I know this because after I indicate digitally that they are #1, I look behind me to see if I am going to do an unscheduled interval. They typically have a passenger or a cell phone that they are conversant with.
I am convinced that these are also the drivers that sit in the left lane regardless of the build up of traffic behind them. Being a slightly “routine driven” (which is loosely translated to mean wackjob) person, I am convinced that these people know my “routine” to and from work, my running, or any time I share the public. They conspire to inflict themselves on me. I just know it…
The Angry Morons. Probably don’t need much of an explanation on this one… Usually a pick-up truck… He’s angry, as you can see his lips moving (maybe he’s trying to read the traffic sign… Zing!) while he drives by. Of course he usually see’s my lips moving too as I offer salutations in kind! A cigarette and a NASCAR cap are an added bonus… I believe that they really don’t like themselves; They just take it out on us as we approach.
From a distance, they see us coming and think, “Baby, she’s cute! Those are some nice legs!” During the convergence, he realizes “that Honey” is a guy… He now has to grapple with his “catching gay” and boy that ain’t right… Not yet able to process the whole sequence of events, he resorts to the basest of all instincts (no not the sniffing the other dog’s butt, the other one)… He must exhibit hostility towards the offending party…
See we runners have already reconciled this phenomena… We will always look at another runner while we are out running, riding, driving, or whatever… Part of it is “sizing up other runners” while a lot of it is “Hey she has a nice… Arghhhh!! How ‘bout them Bears” I’m just saying…
Gramma/Grampa. Do I really have to write anything here? At this point in their lives they are either happy as sh_t (literally) that they are alive and driving, or angry as hell that they have to drag their own butts around town. Unlike Holland, not everyone has Freedom Village (home of the Senior Health Spa- “God wanted it that way”) and the affluent senior contingent.
In either case, I am convinced that these people are fully aware of what they are doing… I don’t buy for a New York minute that they are incoherent and out of touch. They survived the Cold War dammit. You think they don’t know how to get “it” done? C’mon! They drank martini’s, wore smoking jackets, drove cars without seat belts. Cars without power steering… Hell, they smoked!! While pregnant! Hell they did all of that sometimes at the same time!
I believe that they simply don’t give a crap… Do you really think that John Wayne would ever move over? Their logic is simply put: “Screw it. I’m old and “feeble”… Who’s gonna throw me in jail for vehicular manslaughter… I outlasted those Commy bastards in Russia! I've lived a full life... I’m just saying… You know it makes sense!
So anyway, now that I’m back on topic… I am out running and some tool drives right by without moving… I am by the State Park (see other posts) running on Harbor Drive… Mind you the road was empty (I think that I established that 20 minutes ago {reading time, certainly not writing time})… I break from my typical personality, being the reserved and recalcitrant type, and I yell at the driver… Of course, he proceeds to skid to a stop. and backs up along side me. The following exchange is had (I did not bring my Dictaphone so some of the details may be altered for literary purposes; No I am not making this up):
Him: “What’s yer problem?”
Me: “I have no problem, I’m just out running.”
Him: “I saw you yelling at me”
Me: “Yes I did… I am off my meds. You couldn’t give me 6 f’ing inches?”
Him: “I don’t have to give you or anyone six inches! Assh_le!”
Me: “Yeah I know that’s what your wife told me”
I then took off through the park… The only way for him to get me was to start running after me, or pull the gun out from under his seat and shoot me… Actually I realized that he could have waited for me by the parking lot near the boardwalk, so I backtracked down the beach and took an alternate route home… I’m not proud of it, and certainly this isn’t fitting with my attempt to keep this site PG-13… I will try and do better…
By the way, the title was originally for an article explaining that my car is in for service for a faulty thermostat and oil change… My mechanic hopes to have the work completed same-day… I am driving Mrs. Despeedstra’s van (no not my mom’s, my wife’s)… I almost had to drive the Fiat to work in 30 degree weather… I think I might need a spare car…
Don’t forget to thank the volunteers.
Rico
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
"It Pains Me to Say This, but I May be Getting Too Mature for Details"
I was originally going to post a quick note reminding you lurkers out there that I cannot sustain this pace. Think of these posts as fartleks... I can't stay at the one post a day for forever... At first, I thought that I simply had to type faster, but the entry kind of looked like this... oYTYitITpitgifguot7s5So7o5esyrjou(#&_!hp897tvhjxgduh;lk,... Not enough parenthesis... I especially cannot maintain the high level of writing that I provide... I did consider EPO, but I also just learned that I took a 7.5% paycut indefinitely (due to the ecomony not because of my writing)... I can't afford these now... That 10 minute read takes hours to write... I know that it may not seem that well crafted, but think of it as shabby chic' (sp?)... It just looks crappy... I don't think that I can sustain (in bed) (inside joke for those of you who don't realize that you've "Jumped the Shark") the frenetic pace that I have set... Daily entry's may not be realistic... Damn it, the quality will not suffer!
While I am still writing this (well by now you are reading it, so it should be past tense), this site may be less relevant in the days to come... Suffice to say, unless it is a Jose Canseco-type "tell all" about former team mates; filled with innuendo and conjecture, a site talking about former teammates may not have the same cache' as a blog including teammates... I'm just saying.
Keep an eye out...
Don't forget to thank the volunteers.
Rico
While I am still writing this (well by now you are reading it, so it should be past tense), this site may be less relevant in the days to come... Suffice to say, unless it is a Jose Canseco-type "tell all" about former team mates; filled with innuendo and conjecture, a site talking about former teammates may not have the same cache' as a blog including teammates... I'm just saying.
Keep an eye out...
Don't forget to thank the volunteers.
Rico
"Jimmy is Getting Angry!" or "It's a Show About Nothing..."
So it looks like Jimmy is stepping into manhood, and is going to post some as a writer! Way to step up! Now we need other lurkers to also join in... BTW, I entered this from my phone... Yeah, I'm one of those people now...
Don't forget to thank the volunteers.
Rico
Don't forget to thank the volunteers.
Rico
...It's not You it's Me...
So the 2009 race season unofficially officially starts in a couple weeks with the Irish Jig 5K...
Ugh...
God, I hate 5K's (I do realize that in true Mr. Science manner, it should be a lower case k... Approximately $50,000 for my Physics degree taught me that. Zing!)!
The basis for the race is to find the nearest car door and slam your hand in it repeatedly... As you lose feeling, you slam the door faster and faster until... Well really you start out fast and proceed to run faster... I of course get my money's worth (Businessmen would say to lower overhead per unit measure) by my own method... I cannot alter the overhead (entry fee); so I manipulate the unit measure (official race time)... Excellent...
It really is a stupid race... It is invariably cold... That numb nose and cough for "the rest of the day cold", is outdone only by the running nose (something has to run fast. Get it?) and phlegm... Mmm.
Typical years have me training with that group of guys that I have mentioned in previous posts (the ones that are fast, but not tOSU fast ones), all winter. They know I can't stand (or run) 5K's but will offer the necessary positive mojo that teammates should/do offer. They tell me that "you have been training, you'll be fine"... Yeah whatever. So I enter the season working hard on visualizing success, and convincing myself that I can run this race and that the discomfort, hell the pain, is OK...
I have finally figured out what happens... The problem is not the race; It's the people watching it! I swear there is a little kid just past the 1st mile marker split, that doesn't like me... He probably knows that I can't stand scUM... The little bastard has a pellet gun that he shoots at my legs as I run by... I never actually see him, but I think it's a little kid because he knows that if caught, no rational person would confront him. After all he's a cute little kid in East Grand Rapids...
I know this as fact because I will typically go through that first mile ahead of "goal race pace". I will look at my first split and feel good. "I knew I could run this race! It just takes self confidence. Gosh darn it people really like me" Strike that last comment, that's for a different entry. At this moment, I will do the "multiply by 3 and add 30 seconds (all without my HP with RPN calculator, for you sciencey readers) to figure out my pace... "Damn. I'm goin' sub 16 minutes!!!", I think. That is when "Little Johnny Lacrosse" strikes! If I catch him I will confront him... If you are out there reading this consider yourself warned... I will Mcguffie you!
My solution this year will be to start yelling out "there is no Santa Claus, or next year you will have to go to school at Godwin Heights..." as I approach that 1st mile... That is guaranteed to send that kid off crying to his mom... I'm just saying...
I'll be able to finish off the race without the leg wounds just fine... Of course I will set a PR... I expect that my heart will be beating so hard, coupled with my lungs pounding that they will arrive at the finish seconds ahead of the rest of my torso... I'm planning on attaching the timing chip to my singlet just in case... If this doesn't work, next year I'm going to staple the chip to a baseball and as I approach the last quarter mile I will merely throw the ball (with chip) towards the finish line, because we all know what a superior baseball talent I was, (at least I know) trust me!
Don't forget to thank the volunteers.
Rico
Ugh...
God, I hate 5K's (I do realize that in true Mr. Science manner, it should be a lower case k... Approximately $50,000 for my Physics degree taught me that. Zing!)!
The basis for the race is to find the nearest car door and slam your hand in it repeatedly... As you lose feeling, you slam the door faster and faster until... Well really you start out fast and proceed to run faster... I of course get my money's worth (Businessmen would say to lower overhead per unit measure) by my own method... I cannot alter the overhead (entry fee); so I manipulate the unit measure (official race time)... Excellent...
It really is a stupid race... It is invariably cold... That numb nose and cough for "the rest of the day cold", is outdone only by the running nose (something has to run fast. Get it?) and phlegm... Mmm.
Typical years have me training with that group of guys that I have mentioned in previous posts (the ones that are fast, but not tOSU fast ones), all winter. They know I can't stand (or run) 5K's but will offer the necessary positive mojo that teammates should/do offer. They tell me that "you have been training, you'll be fine"... Yeah whatever. So I enter the season working hard on visualizing success, and convincing myself that I can run this race and that the discomfort, hell the pain, is OK...
I have finally figured out what happens... The problem is not the race; It's the people watching it! I swear there is a little kid just past the 1st mile marker split, that doesn't like me... He probably knows that I can't stand scUM... The little bastard has a pellet gun that he shoots at my legs as I run by... I never actually see him, but I think it's a little kid because he knows that if caught, no rational person would confront him. After all he's a cute little kid in East Grand Rapids...
I know this as fact because I will typically go through that first mile ahead of "goal race pace". I will look at my first split and feel good. "I knew I could run this race! It just takes self confidence. Gosh darn it people really like me" Strike that last comment, that's for a different entry. At this moment, I will do the "multiply by 3 and add 30 seconds (all without my HP with RPN calculator, for you sciencey readers) to figure out my pace... "Damn. I'm goin' sub 16 minutes!!!", I think. That is when "Little Johnny Lacrosse" strikes! If I catch him I will confront him... If you are out there reading this consider yourself warned... I will Mcguffie you!
My solution this year will be to start yelling out "there is no Santa Claus, or next year you will have to go to school at Godwin Heights..." as I approach that 1st mile... That is guaranteed to send that kid off crying to his mom... I'm just saying...
I'll be able to finish off the race without the leg wounds just fine... Of course I will set a PR... I expect that my heart will be beating so hard, coupled with my lungs pounding that they will arrive at the finish seconds ahead of the rest of my torso... I'm planning on attaching the timing chip to my singlet just in case... If this doesn't work, next year I'm going to staple the chip to a baseball and as I approach the last quarter mile I will merely throw the ball (with chip) towards the finish line, because we all know what a superior baseball talent I was, (at least I know) trust me!
Don't forget to thank the volunteers.
Rico
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