Primal

I’m not a stellar athlete, never have been. At this point, I can only hope to retain as much speed as I can over the next 15 years so I can stomp some masters races in my December years. Still, I can’t help but stay hungry and motivate myself to be something greater. Its thrilling, to strap on my 1 size too small minimalist shoes and bolt through single track trails, hopping over logs and puddles, pounding out miles faster than my “long cardio day” requires. Somewhere below 7 minute miles time starts to slow – I look at every landing spot for a footstep and feel the hard packed dirt as I briefly plant and push, thrusting myself further through the mist, and repeat the process again on my other foot. Below 6:30’s I become conscience of my breathing. Deep inhales and exhales of precious oxygen so forceful they sound like animal snarls. Moving at such high speeds, I surprise even myself by the preciseness of how I can every muscle and limb, every move subconscious, everything instinctual. Endorphines rush to my head like wine, like a drug addict I push further and further until it starts to burn. By the time fatigue sets in my muscles are spent. Huffing and puffing in the middle of the woods, I look around, grab my bearings, and begin to run at a now humbled pace back towards my car.


I needed to get that out.

Stay hungry! 

Introduction

Hello.

Welcome to my memoirs.

These are not traditional memoirs of prose constructed into structure and coherent plot. These are not extraordinary tales of occurrences only ever experienced by a select few. These are a community of work, a collection of thoughts with one common thread. I hope that before anything makes it out to the general public grammar is corrected, sentences are made more clear, stories are made more interesting, chapters are added and removed. Names can be changed, even the by line. Insert author here.

If some high school student wants to turn this in for a creative writing assignment, that's fine. If some ex girlfriend wants to make me look like [more of?] a douche, all the power to her. If this gets taken into the woods and left there, only to be discovered by a distressed hiker and used to light a campfire for a night.

Now that the introduction is done, on with the main event.

Bad things man, bad things.

Last night, I nearly made a horrible mistake. Then today, again, I almost made the same mistake. Fortunately, both times I ended up making the right decisions. I am so lucky to have the friends I have. Friends that will put up with my temporary insanity and obscure battles with addiction. Its not often that I require being talked off the ledge, but over the last few days I have needed it and they've been there.

On a brighter note, it looks like I'll be entertaining for Shabbat. The first time I'm having people over since I've moved in here, I'm excited. An excuse to cook is always welcome - so long as I don't have to bake.

Miami - Friends, Family and Racing.

Miami, FL. 1.29.10 to 2.1.10. What a great vacation! Warm weather, a great friend, family, a race, good food, and relaxation.

Friday: I left Cleveland, 14 Degrees with 2 fresh inches of snow. A special thank you to Toni for waking up early and giving me a lift. The brilliant people at Continental Airlines confused the first 4 letters of my last name with Gold frequent flyer status and upgraded me to first class. The short flight landed in Miami – temp 75 and sunny.

I was [eventually] greeted by a disheveled and hung over Jill Brenner, booze seeping out her pours with a lingering hint of a Cheerios aroma. Oye. Quickly realizing that her sunglasses were not just for fashion, but part of a medical cure for headaches - my only choice was to demand that we go to the beach immediately where we could consume mass quantities of greasy seafood. This was followed with the Health expo and Race number pick up.

Friday night was full of drinks, good company, and tons of live music. Including the restaurant Dexter frequently eats at and a dueling piano bar that plays covers of pop songs. Bitchin.’ Little did I know, but every bar we went to I would later recognize on my 26.2 mile tour of town.

Saturday, we went back to the beach before checking out Skully's Tavern, from Diners - Drive-ins and Dives. My review is GREAT food, but quite lacking in the drink menu. No joke, the beer selection was 100% Miller or Budweiser. Drink disappointment aside, I had escargot for the first time. It's also worth mentioning that Jill and my dining preferences work together famously. In all, we had the Beef and Barley soup, Escargot, Dolphin spread, Blue Cheese encrusted lamb, broccoli, fingerling potatoes. I was eneveitably rolled out of the joint.

Following Skully's, Jill decided to kick my ass in backgammon a few times at a wine bar that was more like a wine vending machine. I was truly at her mercy. We called it a night early knowing that we had to wake up at O-dark-hundred hours.

Sunday morning. Marathon day. Given that some bars close right around the time that the race was starting - there were quite a few confused yuppies in dresses and suits stumbling about as I made my way to the starting line.

If I were to describe the Marathon in 1000 words, I would still only use one: Painful. Maybe two: Painful and stupid. Painfully stupid. I went through the half around 1:48. Then stopped sweating (dehydration) around mile 14 and everything went south. I cramped up and collapsed around mile 21. An angel pretending to be a running in the race stopped above me and poured magical fairy dust in my mouth and I was reborn at least to the point of jog/walking.

The main thing that kept me going was the fact that my brother and sister in law had come down to watch me. I kept thinking to myself, if they can drive hours to see me, I owe it to them to make them wait however long it takes to finish, dangit! In the end, my time was not notable (4:40) but I FINISHED!

Sunday night there were two football games going on, I made the right choice of which to attend. There was the pro-bowl for all the has-been losers. And there was a Miami U Coed IM flag football game full of action, carnage and amazing feats of athleticism.

Monday morning I had to say goodbye to Miami. The city decided to show me off in style with rain. Leaving 75 and rainy, I boarded a plane and sat down in my 3 emergency row seats. Why they were unoccupied, I haven’t a clue, but again thank you continental. Arriving back to Cleveland, a sunny 20 degrees.

Equation of the day:

Bike Commute + Rain = Laundry.

Testing, First entry

If you read this, remind me to delete this entry. I'm new to the blogging world and just want to test out the delightful toy where i can write things nobody really cares about or finds interesting.

Hey, look at me! look at me!