Showing posts from June, 2012

Midlife Enlightenment

I'm thinking a good Lay can help with this midlife bullshit. I've reinvented myself three times in my life. Just before my freshman year in high school I remember making a series of rash fashion choices by chopping my hair off and adopting a dark wardrobe that consisted of my dad's old baggy Coast Guard pants, thrift store sweaters, and dark eye makeup. I wasn't going to win any beauty contests but I was hoping to add a touch of intimidation to my perpetual "cuteness." I guess I was worried about being picked on considering I didn't know a lot of kids at my high school. It didn't work. I still got my hands slammed in my locker and my books scattered around freshman hall. Go figure. I blame it on the skaters.   While my high school reinvention was probably the most dramatic externally, the other reinventions have turned out to be some of the most significant internal growing periods of my adult life. They were marked with unequivocal changes in

Defending Choices - The Barefoot vs. Shoes Debate

Do you hear that slapping sound? Ok. Maybe you didn't. Its the sound of me slapping my forehead. I'm a bit disoriented from some online discussions going on and thought I would share. I usually don't post about certain discussions that I will unwittingly follow from time to time on the barefoot running blogosphere (some of them are like a car crash and you just have to watch). Frankly, a lot of these discussions end in moot points and wounded egos and I really don't have the energy to waste on that kind of shit. But, today I'm full of energy (I just ate half a container full of chocolate covered espresso beans) I'm just going to throw my two cents into the center ring and then sit back and watch all those barefoot purists and minimalists-shoddies slaughter each other hunger games style. There's an ongoing debate amongst the barefoot purists and shoe wearers. I don't want to get into the details, but lets just suffice it to say that both sides feels

Fiyah on the WS100 Trail

Me and fellow BRS member Terry Orsi (a.k.a boy scout with GPS whach-a-ma-callit) If you don't know exactly where you're going, be sure to bring a GPS-type gadget with you. And if you don't have a GPS thingy you should have a boy scout in your back pocket. But if you can find a boyscout who happens to be carrying a GPS whatsit (and knows how to use it) then you're golden.  Or at least in theory...   I got a facebook message from our BRS chapter president, Terry Orsi, that he and another runner, Rob, were planning on running The Western States 100 trail beginning around mile 80. As soon as I read the message I was SO in. I've been wanting to run north on that trail for a while now. If I ran anything more than hundred yard sprints and tabata runs I probably would already know those trails like the back of my hand. Looking out above the Western States Trail But I don't. So it was spontaneous luck that all three of us could carve away time from o

My Secret Love...

Remember these? I have this secret love. (Actually, I've got two secret loves but I've put the erotica aside for now.) *grinning* This other love involves wheels, speed, flippant humor, body art and irreverent fashion. Its called Roller Derby.  When I was eight skating is what I was good at. Now. Um... not so much. My friends could all do perfect cartwheels, back handsprings and side splits. I was lucky if I could do a somersault. But, I could skate. Usually without falling down (too much.) Its funny how my memories of skating are inexplicably linked to the clothing I was wearing at the time. Like what I wore while I skated was all that important, which it wasn't. But for some reason when I think about skating as a kid I'm reminded of the terry cloth rainbow trim short shorts and bubble text tees with unicorns and rainbows on then. Then there were the "Dittos" saddle seamed stitched bell bottom jeans in various colors (which I think was more of a Wes


Guadajuko One of the sweetest pooches I've ever met. Its been almost two weeks since I ran my 100k. Funny how my body was recovered almost completely by day two after the race. In fact, my whole body faired better after running 62 miles than it did after my last two 50ks and my trail marathon. "Crippled" is the descriptor I'd use to describe myself after my last two 50ks. You know? The kind of crippled where walking or sitting elicits lots of deep breathing, grunting and a few loud expletives. Trust me. Its not fun to relive labor and delivery two days after every race. But this race was totally different. I was tired and fatigued, but I wasn't crippled in any sense of the word. Even my right foot felt pretty normal the next day. I attribute this to a couple things. The overall elevation change for this race was probably only around 6500 ft or so and well... maybe my body is getting into "ultra" shape. Since I don't log LSD (long slow distanc