Tattoo Goo.

Yeah - that's my leg.

You can tell by the muscular definition in the calf...and the freckles.

So I just got it done today, and it was an excellent experience. My last Tat was done when I was 19-20, so it's been a while since I've been in a shop. But completing my first marathon deserved something, and I think this was it.

My plan now, for future runs, is to put a small mark of some sort - ( a runner or if I want to sell out - a nike swoosh) under my time for each other marathon I run. Considering I'm doing 2 next year, I think the leg will be seeing some work.

Excuse the shitty, bleeding look to the pic.. remember - it's fresh.

Would ya believe I'm already contemplating my next one? Tattoos are almost as addictive as running. (Almost.) Thank God I'm in control of my addictions.. (Those of you who know me can start laughing now.)


Later.

Made me Laugh.

Saw this today and it made me chuckle.

"Use the Loofah..." Hahahah.



So I guess if you're and exhibitionist, Shiny Suds is for you...


Later

Station Identification.

Just so the world doesn't think I've died, I thought I'd update.

A lot has happened since I last wrote anything down here.

Most importantly, I lost my Father-in-Law - he was a great man and I was saddened by his loss and honored to be chosen to give the eulogy at his service. Trust me, I'm a talker, and getting up in front of those 350 people was both humbling and terror-inducing. From all accounts afterward, I did a good job , and everyone said he would have been pleased.

The two weeks preceding, I was single-dadding it - with all that had happened, my wife stayed with her mother, and even though it's on the same town, I didn't see her at all for 14 days. Juggling the kids and my OCD complex with the house was a challenge but I did it.

And if you think I got a lot of runs in, you're dreaming - check my Twitter - I haven't done much at all. Thank God it doesn't show yet, but I'm just glad to get back to the routine so I can get my shoes back on and just get out there. I'm still planning on Vancouver in May, and Vic again in October - with the Comox Half , Merville 15K, and any other run I can scrounge thrown in there. You have no clue how bad I'm aching for a 10 miler.. does that make me crazy?

Coming up, I have the Sidekick in town soon, and we're going to see the Trews at the Tidemark on the 23rd. (Yes, he's explained how coming to the sticks to see a concert is completly wrong, but he's still coming..)

And in 2 weeks and 2 days, I get my Tattoo. Totally looking forward to it.

Well you've been topped up with the meat and potatoes of my life - and yes, there's tons I'm not telling - but that's probably another post at another time.

Trust me, I'll be back.
(You can't keep a good man down - so a guy like me can only be kept down about 75% of the time.)


Later.

10K, A-Okay.

I ran my last race of the year today.

I finished the Miracle Beach 10k with a blazing fast 44:28 - 5 minutes off my time from last year. I still placed fourth in my age group, which just means the other old bastards (M35-39) have gotten faster too.

It was a great race, and I felt fantastic throughout. I probably could have even pushed a bit harder, but with doing Victoria last Sunday, I didn't think it wise to punish my legs further.

As always, the weather turned out great for the run - I always seem to luck out that way. (Knock on wood if you can.) It was sunny, cool, and the perfect weather to kick ass in.

For most of the race, I was running with a couple of guys, not paying attention to my pace, just running what felt right. It wasn't until one of them commented that we were clocking a 4'30" k that I started to check my pace, and even slowed down a bit - got to have gas in the tank to be able to finish. (Running's like sex - if you start out too fast, you just fall apart at the finish - never a good thing.)

Still, I was well ahead of where I wanted to be - at best I hoped for a time somewhere around the 45 minute mark, so to beat that even by just 30 seconds is a great thing. And as always, having them call out your name at the awards is great, even if it is just 4th place.

I say it's my last race of the year just because of the fact that I know of nothing else that's coming up. I'm contemplating the Vancouver Marathon, but that's not until May - and even then, I can incorporate the Comox Half and the Merville 15K into my training plan. ( I haven't really talked to the Wife about Vancouver - she already thinks I'm nuts, and telling her I want to do 2 Marathons and at least 1 Half next year will have her calling the guys in White Coats.)

So for now, it's back to just running for running's sake. I'm going to be hitting the gym for three days a week and running on the off days. I know there's a six-pack hiding under that last layer of fat - I'm determined to find it.

(Plus - and I won't make any promises - I should be able to blog more, now that I'm not going to be running 5 days a week. Believe it when it happens.)


Later.

Tattoo You.

I'm going to get another Tattoo.

As most of you who read this blog have come to understand, I have become slightly obsessed with running. ("No Shit!" You say - "Tell us something new!")

And as some of you may know, I already have a tattoo - the Japanese symbol for "Love" on my chest. As that Tattoo was wrought from pain and anguish (some of you even know that story), so this Tattoo will rise from pain and success.

I've decided to get the Roman Numerals for 26.2 (XXVI) tattooed vertically down my right calf, and at the bottom have my finish time for my marathon.

"But wait!" You say, "The Roman's didn't use decimals, you schmuck!". I know - I'm going to get a smaller "II" symbol tucked in beside the "I" - Trust me - I've drawn it out already, and it'll look cool.

And though it may seem crazy and weird to get a running tattoo on my leg, my reasoning is thus: I did it - I accomplished what few do, and no matter what else happens in my life, I will have that to be proud of. And it doesn't matter how many more I run, or whether my time improves or decreases - this was my first, and I want to remember it. (The only other thing I might ever get would be something involving my kids, but that's about it.)

The only thing that sucks is I have to wait until November 26th to get it done - the only reputable Tattoo Artist in town that I would trust my skin to is booked up until then.

I'm sure I'll describe the procedure and post photos when it happens.. But for now, I can't wait.


Later.

Good Mail.

Most days, your average Inbox is so full of spam and other assorted debris that it's hard to sort out the good news from the ENLARGE YOUR PENIS NOW!!! - type stuff.

My Telus-assigned email address is the one I use for all my junk. Anyone who needs an actual address I can respond to, but I think is going to send me copious amounts of crap - they get that one. I check it once a week, and it's usually to just shift-select all-delete.

The Real Me uses Gmail.

Even with that, I still get some junk - newsletters I subscribed to but don't read, the one guy I know who still sends out FWD:FWD:FWD:FWD stuff, (even though I've asked him not to), and the occasional spam because the Wife signed up for something and put in the wrong address.

But today was a good mail day. I received 4 emails that brightened my afternoon:

• A reminder from the local running store about the 10K I'm in this weekend. (I placed 4th in my age group last year - going to try and better that)
• Same local running store sending out a congratulatory email to all the local runners in the RVM - sure, it's a bulk email, but everyone gets to see my name in lights - as a finisher.
• Message from the Event Photographers that my race-day photos are online. This one's tough because my finish-line photo looks realllly bad.
• And a confirmation email from the Tidemark that my 6th row tickets to see the Trews are in. (Oh yeah, baby - the Trews.)

So believe me when I say- checking my email, while purely habitual and borderline obsessive-compulsive, was very rewarding today.

And I also got this one from a Nigerian Prince who needs my help to transfer millions of dollars - this could be good.


Later.

Completion.

It's done.

26.2 miles, 42.2 kilometers, 16 weeks of training. And it rocked.

The Royal Victoria Marathon made me feel like I can accomplish anything. I'm still on cloud nine - not only did I meet my goals, I blew them out of the water.

As you can tell from the certificate on the right, I finished in 3:28:20 - almost 2 minutes faster than I figured my best possible time could be. I placed 402nd out of the 2611 who finished the marathon, and 63rd in my age group. (considering that 12 of the first 25 finishers were my age or older, that's a good sign.)

But it was a great day and I had an awesome time. Even when my calves and hammies started cramping up at the 40K mark, I kept going. I paused to walk twice, but my determination to run the race wouldn't let me do it for more than 30 seconds. (I'm stubborn that way.)

It's a beautiful run - from the Seawall to the Parliament Buildings, from Oak Bay to running through the golf course, (even ran by the Twin's Comic Book Store!) it was just amazing to be surrounded by people just as crazy and dedicated as I am.

Some of my memories from the run:

• The line up for the bathrooms - listening to some ladies debate the moralities of sneaking into the wheelchair porta-pottie.
• The Elvis Impersonator on a flatbed truck in Oak Bay - The King kept me going..
• The clothing strewn on the side of the road as runners peeled off thier outer layers.
• The fact that only 1 in 200 runners can hit the trash can at any water station. (which is why we run, instead of being in the NBA.)
• The running club offering "Beer Shots" at the 38K mark.
• Eating my first gelpak - was too much like really sweet chocolate pudding.
• Wondering if being struck by a golf ball means you get to subtract time off your finish..
• Seeing 3:2x:xx as I came toward the finish line - fuck the pain - I ran.
  
• Wanting to hug the lady as she put my finisher's medal around my neck.. (I didn't.)
• The greatest chocolate milk/donut combo ever as I walked out of the food area after the race.

Overall, an amazing experience.
I'll post the photos as soon as I can - with selective editing - no one wants to see me grimacing in pain.

Now, about next year...

Counting Down.

It's 10 days to go until the Royal Victoria Marathon.

And I think my taper madness has set in.

I feel good, I'm confident about finishing - but in the back of my mind, there's this slight shred of doubt about my hip flexor. I think that it may be the only thing that will hold me back from achieving my goal.

And I'm just really excited about the run. My nervous energy is a slight to behold - I've become someone who can't seem to sit still. I normally don't sleep well the night before any of my long runs - I'm sure I'll need to be knocked out the night of the 10th.

With my infrequent posting history as of late, I'm not sure if this will be the only post you see before the big day - I'm hoping not, but who's to say?

If it is, wish me luck - I'm going to try and make 26.2 my bitch.


Later.

A Long Day.

Today was my Long Run Day.

Technically, it's supposed to be tomorrow, but really - when you set out to run 22 miles, does it really matter what day of the week it is? Didn't think so.

The thing that weirds me out about my long runs lately is that I start out in the darkness of the morning (6:30), and before I'm even two-thirds done, the sun is up and the day has completely changed. Sometimes it almost feels like I've been running from one day to the next.

To tell the truth, I'm disappointed in my long runs. Last week, I was supposed to do 20 miles, and came up three-quarters of a mile short because my hip flexor was bugging me, and this week I was 1.5 miles short because of a leg cramp. (I know it was a hydration issue, but it just kills me.) The fact is, after 20 miles, I think my body just says "What the fuck are you doing?'

My Body's going to learn that I'm the one in charge.

I don't have anymore long runs until the Marathon on October 11th. The longest I run is 12 miles. (Ha! Two years ago I would have called you crazy to think I'd run 12 miles. Now I don't consider it "Long".) So now's the time to rest between runs, and just try and stay healthy and injury-free.

As for the Marathon, I'm still hopeful of my time - still want under 4hrs, and as close to 3:30 as possible. I'm confident in my training, and know that between that and adrenaline on race day, I'll do just fine.



Later.

The Inconsistent Blogger.

An Anonymous source has said that Micro-Blogging via Twitter isn't nearly as interesting as Blog posts.

And they couldn't be more right.

Trying to tell an interesting story via Twitter is like someone trying to write Fight Club via Facebook status updates. ("I am Jack's Wall - help me in Farmtown")

So then what's the deal with the lack of posting, you ask?

Just plain laziness and the inability to tell a story. Oh, I can talk a story - trust me. Nobody bullshits better than me. But trying to find something that I want to say and than making the time to say it seem to be my downfall right now.

I think I'll try and change that.

I do miss this place. It used to be my refuge,my place to shout out into the darkness and see what echoed back.

But after such neglect, if I shout is there anyone there to listen?
If you Blog and there's no one to read it, is it really a post?
Welcome to my digital tree - I'm going to chop it down and see if it makes a sound.

Later.

I Feel:

• That there's no excuse for prompt, punctual updates.
• That the previous statement makes me the biggest hypocrite in the world.
• That if you exclude the concert, the drinking, and the time spent with the Sidekick, I didn't get to spend enough time in Vancouver.
• That Twitter is both a boon, a distraction, and an addiction.
• That running 18 miles was the most rewarding solo effort I've done so far.
• That masturbation, although rewarding, can't be included in that declaration.
• That for the first time ever, I doubt my ability in regards to running.
• That looking up random music videos on You Tube is both cathartic and frustrating.
• That work,being work, is work- but sometimes doesn't feel much like work.
• That my inability to let go of a song will be my downfall.
• That reading Love Monkey was almost as good as reading High Fidelity.
• That I have to re-read some Tom Robbins.

Later.

Cream My Jeans.

I know it's only 14 seconds.
I know there's no lyrics.
I know there isn't even pictures of the band.



But there is the sound of Dave Grhol smashing the shit out of some drums. And if Josh Homme and John Paul Jones can keep up with him, this should be fucking Epic.



Later.

Frustdata'd

As you could tell from my Twitter post on Sunday, I did two important things:

1. Did a 13.1 mile training run in 1 hour and 41 minutes, which shaved two minutes off my previous half marathon time. (Woo!)
2. Crossed the 1000 mile marker with my Nike + Sportband.

But there's a problem.

You see, normally over to your right there would be a big-ass Nike Certificate and I'd be bragging about shit over here. But on the run previous to my Sunday run, something happened to my Sportband.

It won't upload.

It plugs into it's USB port and charges fine, but that's it. No activation, nothing registers with the computer that anything is even plugged in. The port works fine, as anything else I stick in there works, and the Sportband did the same thing on another computer that I tried it on.

It still works great for everything else (except for the display), but it just won't upload. So now I'm stuck with 28 miles of runs that I can't post, and I'm getting a bit pissed. (So can't wait for my new Sportband 2.0 to arrive.)

Sure, I know I've logged the miles, and I know the time I did, but it's a satisfaction to see that reward up on the screen. Imagine how Pavlov's dogs felt when that fucker rang the bell and they didn't get anything.

(Fuck, Pavlov was a bastard.)

I'll get it fixed eventually, I hope, and am willing to listen to any ideas anyone has - If you wanted to earn my eternal gratitude, now's the time.

Later.

Hangin' Around.

Hey, I just flew into this blog, and boy, are my arms tired.
(Ba-dum Kssh)

Lame jokes aside, my arms are tired - from rock climbing.

I had no wife and no kids today, so like any normal guy I had coffee, read the paper, mowed the lawn, and then decided to try my hand at Indoor Rock Climbing.

I drive by On the Rocks at least once a week, (it's on the way to my parent's place) and having heard about it from other people, it seemed like something I'd like to try. But with always having the Boys, I've never gone in.

It was great.

For $20, I got shoes, a harness, and a quick introduction into the wonders of an auto-belay system. (The great thing is, it's $20 for an all-day pass - I'm going back after dinner tonight.) The auto-belay means you can climb alone, and once you reach the top, you can either climb back down (yeah right) or fling yourself into space, where it lowers you down gently rappel-style.

The gym was busier than I thought, with quite a few people there. Nobody seemed judgmental or rude, and everyone was enjoying themselves. The biggest shock to me was seeing a 8 year old boy scamper up the wall, racing his sister saying he's a "Spider Monkey". Once he hit the top, he just lowered himself down, unhooked and raced off to another area.

It may not be something that I'll do every week, but it's a nice alternative to have. (I'll tell you how nice tomorrow, depending how sore I am.)

I will say this: hardest upper body workout ever.


Later.

Your Chocolate in My Peanut Butter..

Below is a amalgamation of two of the best things in my universe: Kings of Leon and Pulp Fiction.

Uuummaa.



Sweet Christmas, is that awesome or what?

By the way, in case I haven't mentioned it a thousand times already - in 32 days 'till Kings of Leon in Van!
(Fuck, I feel like a giddy schoolgirl...)


Later.

Band -Aid.

My Nike+ Sportband is starting to give up the proverbial ghost.

It works fine, syncs well, and the calibration and everything are all right. The problem is that the display is starting to fade - all the numbers/letters on the left are illegible, and it's only getting worse.

Luckily, Nike knows about this and has the product covered under warranty - I contacted them, and was told that they'll replace it free of charge. I'll even get lucky, as the old, not working Sportband has been discontinued and I'll get one of the new, Version 2 Sportbands.

Because of my training for the RVM in October, I was concerned about sending it in and having to wait for the new one to get here - but Nike said if I went to where I bought it, I'll be able to exchange it there.

After talking to the people at Intersport, (Where I got it) I'm convinced I have the best of both worlds. The new Sportbands aren't out yet, but they have me down to do an exchange as soon as they get in - and until then, I can still use my old one for recording all my miles and such. (Which is great, because I'm only about 76 miles away from my 1000 mile mark - wooo!)

I can't wait.

I think that a big part of the success and continuing motivation I've had with running is because of the Sportband. Being able to see all the information I need right away, along with the tracking on the Nike+ website, make it easy for a Nerd like me to stay interested and challenged.

I hope the new one lasts for at least another 1000 miles. (Or until I go completely running obsessed and get a Garmin 405.)


Later.

Maintenance is Key.

I have high standards when it comes to my DVDs.

Maybe not in what I watch, (ask the Sidekick, and he'll say my copy of The Princess Bride proves that) but in how I take care of what I have.

So it drives me nuts when I see people treat their DVDs like shit.

I had a guy at work lend me Wild Hogs. (Not my choice, but the Wife liked it.) He brought the disc in for me and when he handed me the case I was appalled.

The outer case was scuffed, the cover slide was ripped, and it still had the price tag on it. It may sound trivial, but I don't need to know that he paid $24.95 for Wild Hogs - if he did, he needs to get a refund. I was almost terrified to open the case and see the disc.- I figured it would look like cats played hacky-sack with it.

I just don't understand how people can treat their stuff like that, especially if they are willing to lend it out to other people. Bad enough that you're going to get judged on your viewing choices - but to hand out beat up, badly treated stuff? It just tells me you can't take care of your shit.

And if you don't take care of your stuff, why would the people you lend it to bother to take care of it? They know you don't give a shit, so why should they? When I hand someone an immaculate disc in packaging that looks like I bought it yesterday, that's how I expect to receive it back.

Do I go overboard? Probably. But to present my things, and by extension, myself as uncared and unkempt is just unacceptable to me.

I'm going to end it at that.
I gotta go dust my collection anyways.


Later.

Of Bears, Beers, and Aching Calves.

Of all the golf courses I've played at, Bear Mountain reigns supreme.

Forget reigning - Bear Mountain takes the other golf courses, kicks their whinny little asses and sends them packing like the bitches they are.

As you can tell, I'm somewhat enamored with the course. As thrilled as I was to get a chance to play in the Thrifty Foods tourney, it was where we were playing that excited me the most, and the course didn't disappoint.

The treatment by the staff was phenomenal - it was like I was a touring Pro, not some shmoe from the sticks. The place just screams class and money, and the only other place I've been to that has the same feel in the air would be Whistler.

The greens, the fairways, the course is immaculate and in tip top condition. Too bad there were a bunch of drunks playing on it, but we had a fun time.

My team was a great group - I knew one guy already, and the other two were really nice. My cart-buddy was the most fantastic bastard of an Englishman I've ever met, and I could have sat and listened to him drink, curse, and laugh all day.

And drink I did. At Campbell River events, you have a choice of Lucky, Kokanee, or Coors Light. Not bad, but not my favorite brews. Yesterday I drank nothing but Sleemans, Alexander Keith's, Stella, and the odd G&T. And that was all from the Beer Cart. They must have known we had an Englishman in the group because the cart never seemed to be more than 3 minutes away.

So after a Lunch that stuffed me, 18 holes that drowned me in Beer, and a Dinner where the steak was cut with a butter knife, what do I regret?

I regret not resting my calves today. Although there was a cart, there's lots of walking in golf, and I was on the side of a mountain... Of my 3 mile run today, it wasn't until mile 2.5 that they started to loosen up and not be stiff as boards. (Putting them through 6 miles of hills tomorrow to show 'em who's boss.)

I'd love to be able to go back to Bear Mountain. And here's to hoping I get my wish.


Later.

All In One Shot..

I bet everyone thought I forgot about this place. Hard to believe I used to bitch at the Sidekick for posting so haphazardly, and then I become almost as bad as him.

I've come to realize that some days there just isn't enough time to juggle everything. Between work, the Kids, family/social obligations and running, by the time I do sit down in front of the monitor, I'm wiped and unable to focus a coherent thought - unless you want to hear about my latest run or maybe the annoyance of Ball Sweat.

I also feel that sometimes I just don't care enough to comment. Do I have thoughts on Michael Jackson's death? Sure I do, and they are probably the same as every other guy my age: Micheal Jackson died years ago, halfway through recording Bad, and was replaced by a pasty white guy I don't know anymore. Why bother commenting on something that everyone is sick of hearing about anyway?

I'd talk about Hockey, but it's no fun making cracks about the Leafs when my Avs are acting like all the high-level decisions are being made by Corky from Life Goes On, and he's using a dartboard with suggestions from Mike Millbury pinned to it.

Ranting about the economy doesn't do any good: I'm still poor. Bitching about the shitty drivers in Campbell River doesn't work - if they can't read road signs or speed limits, they aren't reading this blog. Plus, on the days it's too hot, I just can't get worked up about the little things like the elections in Iran or Obama smacking a fly and pissing off PETA.

I swear to God (like he/she is listening) I'm gonna post more. But think of me more like a posting Ninja: you're not sure when I'll strike, but when I do, you'll know.


Later.

Denim 2.0

Remember Jeans Guy?

Pretty sure I met his Dad tonight.

I was at the gym, just starting my workout, when I see these two guys come in. There's nothing remarkable about either of them, except the one thing that stands out in a gym: One of the guys is wearing jeans.

I tried not to judge right away, but as he took his jacket off the stereotype clicked right into place - tight white t-shirt stretched over a beer gut, the jeans all ratty and shitty, and the only thing I saw him do was arm exercises. If that's not a redneck, I don't know what is. I almost looked out into the parking lot to see if his truck had a camper and Nascar stickers on it.

(He did remember to bring his workout gloves, towel and water bottle, so I'm sure the jeans were intentional.)

I just find it nasty and gross to work out in jeans, but like I said - I try not to judge. Otherwise people are going to talk about all the time I spend in the tanning booth.

Stay real, Jeans Guy - you're a rebel. Don't ever change.
(I imagine with the inbreeding, that won;t happen anyway.)




Later.