Hope rides again! Live Strong! Live Armstrong!
I can easily slip into my golden running slippers and prance off into the sunset at the drop of a pin. The water flowing across my body in the pool reminds me of the frolic and detour I so enjoyed while in mommy’s womb. That menacing bicycle, however, that beast! It just stands there taunting me, teasing me, double-dog daring me to try, come-on just try and tame me. That wild barbarian once uttered, “I’ll show you pain, I’ll show you agony, I’ll show you defeat, come-on just get on.” Sure I was shaking, shivering and shuddering as I approached and began my ride. True to form I was rudely awakened, rather savagely beaten down by that two-wheeled Diablo. I finally settled on hiding my tormentor in the garage and secretly devising elaborate ways to dismantle and melt that monster down in some far-off prehistoric lava pit.
Until NOW! I’ve changed! I have visited Oz (Escondido) and the cowardly lion has been granted a small dose of courage. Yes, I’ve been revamped, reinvigorated, reinfiltrated, resituated, restipulated, rerigorated, remotivated, reticulated, refrigerated, and recycleminded. How Jake? How? What happened? Please tell me how this reincarnation happened. Please do tell. Okay! Okay! Calm down!
Yesterday I went to see my hero, yes; Lance Armstrong was finishing The Tour de California, an 800 mile race from Sacramento to Escondido. We got there and were immediately astonished by the magnitude of fanatics (fans) all about the coarse, riders of all walks and lives. It was inspiring at the least and heart attacking at the most. We watched those tigers race up a mountain that most mere mortals would not venture to walk. I was everready to snap a shot of my hero as the pack approached, but they race up a mountain quicker than I can ride down it, they were almost a blur. My hero was about tenth in the second pack, which was about ten minutes behind the lead pack. But not for long, they were approaching a mountain and had 5,500 feet of steep elevation to muster. I was wringing my hands with glee to be there and to personally witness Lance do what he does best – Endure More Pain Than Any Man Alive - I was certain that he would summit in the lead. My hopes were not unfounded, he caught the lead pack and at the top of the mountain he arrived in third position – Excellent! Lance Livestrong Armstrong finished sixth overall. Not bad for his first race after a 3 year siesta.
Lance and the tremendous bicycling atmosphere were extremely motivating. The newfound courage will help me battle those sinister aversions and doubts about enduring headwinds and peddling pain. Armstrong has helped me to become headstrong about getting legstrong.
Note: A good book about the overcoming of obstacles and facing fears is: It’s not about the Bike, by Lance Armstrong. I lugged my book to the race but couldn’t get to him for a signature.
Hope rides again! Live Strong! Live Armstrong!
Escondido is my Oz,
And Lance the Wizard,
Jake
Monday, February 23, 2009
Thursday, February 5, 2009
NoWhere Man
Who discovered zero? If someone had come up with the concept of zero which everyone then saw as a brilliant innovation to enter mathematics from that time on, the question would have a satisfactory answer, even if we did not know which genius invented it. The historical record, however, shows quite a different path towards the concept. Zero makes shadowy appearances only to vanish again almost as if mathematicians were searching for it yet did not recognise its fundamental significance even when they saw it.
The first thing to say about zero is that there are two uses of zero which are both extremely important but are somewhat different. One use is as an empty place indicator in our place-value number system. Hence in a number like 2106 the zero is used so that the positions of the 2 and 1 are correct. Clearly 216 means something quite different. The second use of zero is as a number itself in the form we use it as 0. There are also different aspects of zero within these two uses, namely the concept, the notation, and the name (Our name "zero" derives ultimately from the Arabic sifr which also gives us the word "cipher".).
Neither of the above uses has an easily described history. It just did not happen that someone invented the ideas, and then everyone started to use them. Also it is fair to say that the number zero is far from an intuitive concept. Mathematical problems started as 'real' problems rather than abstract problems. Numbers in early historical times were thought of much more concretely than the abstract concepts which are our numbers today. There are giant mental leaps from 5 horses to 5 "things" and then to the abstract idea of "five". If ancient peoples solved a problem about how many horses a farmer needed then the problem was not going to have 0 or -23 as an answer.
Today, I awoke feeling a little Zero. Tomorrow, I'mm hoping to wake-up feeling like a strong One.
To the genious concept of nothing (both conceptually and literally),
Jake
The first thing to say about zero is that there are two uses of zero which are both extremely important but are somewhat different. One use is as an empty place indicator in our place-value number system. Hence in a number like 2106 the zero is used so that the positions of the 2 and 1 are correct. Clearly 216 means something quite different. The second use of zero is as a number itself in the form we use it as 0. There are also different aspects of zero within these two uses, namely the concept, the notation, and the name (Our name "zero" derives ultimately from the Arabic sifr which also gives us the word "cipher".).
Neither of the above uses has an easily described history. It just did not happen that someone invented the ideas, and then everyone started to use them. Also it is fair to say that the number zero is far from an intuitive concept. Mathematical problems started as 'real' problems rather than abstract problems. Numbers in early historical times were thought of much more concretely than the abstract concepts which are our numbers today. There are giant mental leaps from 5 horses to 5 "things" and then to the abstract idea of "five". If ancient peoples solved a problem about how many horses a farmer needed then the problem was not going to have 0 or -23 as an answer.
Today, I awoke feeling a little Zero. Tomorrow, I'mm hoping to wake-up feeling like a strong One.
To the genious concept of nothing (both conceptually and literally),
Jake
Friday, January 30, 2009
Boney Mountain Half Marathon
The Exterra Boney Mountain Half Marathon trail run was a blistering run of unforgiving treachery and indescribable beauty. We tracked straight up mountain sides only to come screaming down the back side only to track straight up another mountain side only to come screaming down the other back side only to…… and so it went for 13.2 miles.
At the bell Steve took off like a pack of wild dingo’s were after him. Mike was running the 5K so he was of no consequence. Elsa looked fresh as she immediately passed me kicking dust in my eyes. I humbly and meekly started out slowly and gingerly, after all I was physically ill and mentally ill prepared for this broke-back back-break mountain. The wind was howling and whipping at near hurricane force if it was a gale at all, my friends. How fickle was I to have cursed it with one breath only to embrace it with another. When confronted with its fury it was a bitter and hated enemy but at my back a sweet and dear friend. With head bowed and slave to the wind I cursed it one second and smiled with it the next. I slowly plodded my way up and down broke-back mountain, oops, I mean, back-broke mountain.
I caught Elsa at eight miles, sure she tried to trip me but I was ready for any and all diabolical and devious exploits she could offer, her ill conceived scheme was easily foiled. Dealing with Steve, however, that took a little contemplation as he now fancies himself a contender. Sure, he reads book upon book about trickery and tricksterism, he maybe a worthy opponent in the courtroom, but the race track is the real world and well outside the courts jurisdiction. Here he has no papa judge to protect him, no court tails to hide behind. In the race world I am not bound to the rules of civil and criminal procedure, there are no civil rights out here, jungle law rules the day. Out here on these trails, his tears are the only comfort he'll embrace as my shoulder can only shrug any and all pleas for mercy. The only set of rules that I subscribe to in the race world are those prescribed by complete and utter "Victory."
I caught Steve on a hill at the ten mile mark and like Felix the Cat he had his bag of tricks ready. I was extra nimble and tip-toe wiry as I approached him with extreme caution and apprehension, but all for not. The tacks on the road, the releasing and cause of oil slicks, enducing small rock slides, turning direction signs the other way, and the verbal rope-a-dope tactics were all “old school.” I chuckled and whistled while I worked at undermining and countering every thrust and parry that my (half) witted buddy Steve could muster.
As he finally lay down in utter defeat, I at last was able to set one foot upon his chest and two fists in the air while yelling “VICTORY” at the top of my lungs. The gdass hoppa was unable to snatch the pea from the master’s hand that fine day.
On the serious side, it was a hard trail run with wonderful strong wind and beautiful scenery. We had a fun day and I really enjoyed the company of Steve, Mike, and Elsa. Exterra trail runs are all set in scenic locations, get on line and check them out. In the future I plan on running most of them, perhaps you can join me.
At the bell Steve took off like a pack of wild dingo’s were after him. Mike was running the 5K so he was of no consequence. Elsa looked fresh as she immediately passed me kicking dust in my eyes. I humbly and meekly started out slowly and gingerly, after all I was physically ill and mentally ill prepared for this broke-back back-break mountain. The wind was howling and whipping at near hurricane force if it was a gale at all, my friends. How fickle was I to have cursed it with one breath only to embrace it with another. When confronted with its fury it was a bitter and hated enemy but at my back a sweet and dear friend. With head bowed and slave to the wind I cursed it one second and smiled with it the next. I slowly plodded my way up and down broke-back mountain, oops, I mean, back-broke mountain.
I caught Elsa at eight miles, sure she tried to trip me but I was ready for any and all diabolical and devious exploits she could offer, her ill conceived scheme was easily foiled. Dealing with Steve, however, that took a little contemplation as he now fancies himself a contender. Sure, he reads book upon book about trickery and tricksterism, he maybe a worthy opponent in the courtroom, but the race track is the real world and well outside the courts jurisdiction. Here he has no papa judge to protect him, no court tails to hide behind. In the race world I am not bound to the rules of civil and criminal procedure, there are no civil rights out here, jungle law rules the day. Out here on these trails, his tears are the only comfort he'll embrace as my shoulder can only shrug any and all pleas for mercy. The only set of rules that I subscribe to in the race world are those prescribed by complete and utter "Victory."
I caught Steve on a hill at the ten mile mark and like Felix the Cat he had his bag of tricks ready. I was extra nimble and tip-toe wiry as I approached him with extreme caution and apprehension, but all for not. The tacks on the road, the releasing and cause of oil slicks, enducing small rock slides, turning direction signs the other way, and the verbal rope-a-dope tactics were all “old school.” I chuckled and whistled while I worked at undermining and countering every thrust and parry that my (half) witted buddy Steve could muster.
As he finally lay down in utter defeat, I at last was able to set one foot upon his chest and two fists in the air while yelling “VICTORY” at the top of my lungs. The gdass hoppa was unable to snatch the pea from the master’s hand that fine day.
On the serious side, it was a hard trail run with wonderful strong wind and beautiful scenery. We had a fun day and I really enjoyed the company of Steve, Mike, and Elsa. Exterra trail runs are all set in scenic locations, get on line and check them out. In the future I plan on running most of them, perhaps you can join me.
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
Catalina Marathon
It was a run unlike any other. The island was humming with nostalgia, the elements purred in concert, the wind teased the grasslands, and in turn they playfully parried and danced a jig. The sky was clear, baby-blue and a sharp contrast to the greens and bountiful deep blue. Ole deep-blue was littered with white-caps, they dashed and bounced about and displayed unlimited potential all day.
I ran the first 10 miles with Steve and Kristi. Steve was in style, of course, he also gave us great coaching all the way, very effective. Kristi was a joy; she had a perpetual smile on her face and in her eyes, very inspiring. I felt better at the end of 10 then I did at the start. It was time for gdasshoppaw to venture out and tackle the mountain or at least kick it in the chins and chi-run away.
I was off and racing. I passed the orangutan (a hairy guy from N.J. dressed in orange & black) five or six times, we battled for eight miles. The last time I passed him I said, “Orangatang (yes, I called him that) the only way you’ll pass me again is if death comes and sweeps me from my feet!” The orangatang replied, “Oh ya, the next time I pass you, I’m gonna spank you and take your lunch money too!” Suffice to say, I was not greeted by death that day.
As I pranced up and down the hills I came across pumpkin (a woman from San Francisco dressed in orange and black). We ran together for an hour and I shared half a dozen fables. Finally, I told her, “Pumpkin (yes, I called her that) at 21 my plan is to kick sand in your face and if necessary crunch some knuckles, anything to climb my way to the front. I was careful to explain that I have no friends on the race course, only foes. At 21 miles I attempted both but she was too wiry and nimble, I couldn’t.
At 17 or 18 we stumbled across Beach Runner Jason. We ran together in perfect harmony. At mile 22 we had us a runners spread fit for a king, at the buffet, we shared and passed back and forth everything but Alaskan king crab legs. We were preparing for the final haul. In my minds eye I was secretly scheming how to beat this guy and shake the pumpkin. Sure, I played the undercover false friend, but what I had in store for these two pigeons was complete and utter defeat.
At mile 23 we all kicked in the turbo overdrive. Ohh it was beautiful! I was moving soooo fast that the scenery became blurry, my eyes began watering, my face was contorted and pulled back, alas, the G-forces were taking effect. I was afraid of breaking the sound barrier and being disqualified so I pulled back a few degrees, Ohh it was beautiful! I dove across the finish line yelling at the top of my lungs “FREEEEDOOOOMMMM!” (Breaveheart) Simultaneously, the wind sang a sonnet, the grass danced a poem and the sea vibrated in rhythm. Ohh it was beautiful!
***********************************************************************************
I most enjoyed the island, the people, the elements, and running with Steve, Kristi, Jason, Pumpkin and even the Orangatang. Sure, we concluded our differences on the trail, where they should be settled, in a duel, and my weapon of choice was my running shoes. Yes, my running shoes performed that day, like no other. I may have them bronzed and set next to Wayne Gretzky's bronze statue at the Staples Center, or something like that.
Long Live the (few) Buffalo,
Jake
I ran the first 10 miles with Steve and Kristi. Steve was in style, of course, he also gave us great coaching all the way, very effective. Kristi was a joy; she had a perpetual smile on her face and in her eyes, very inspiring. I felt better at the end of 10 then I did at the start. It was time for gdasshoppaw to venture out and tackle the mountain or at least kick it in the chins and chi-run away.
I was off and racing. I passed the orangutan (a hairy guy from N.J. dressed in orange & black) five or six times, we battled for eight miles. The last time I passed him I said, “Orangatang (yes, I called him that) the only way you’ll pass me again is if death comes and sweeps me from my feet!” The orangatang replied, “Oh ya, the next time I pass you, I’m gonna spank you and take your lunch money too!” Suffice to say, I was not greeted by death that day.
As I pranced up and down the hills I came across pumpkin (a woman from San Francisco dressed in orange and black). We ran together for an hour and I shared half a dozen fables. Finally, I told her, “Pumpkin (yes, I called her that) at 21 my plan is to kick sand in your face and if necessary crunch some knuckles, anything to climb my way to the front. I was careful to explain that I have no friends on the race course, only foes. At 21 miles I attempted both but she was too wiry and nimble, I couldn’t.
At 17 or 18 we stumbled across Beach Runner Jason. We ran together in perfect harmony. At mile 22 we had us a runners spread fit for a king, at the buffet, we shared and passed back and forth everything but Alaskan king crab legs. We were preparing for the final haul. In my minds eye I was secretly scheming how to beat this guy and shake the pumpkin. Sure, I played the undercover false friend, but what I had in store for these two pigeons was complete and utter defeat.
At mile 23 we all kicked in the turbo overdrive. Ohh it was beautiful! I was moving soooo fast that the scenery became blurry, my eyes began watering, my face was contorted and pulled back, alas, the G-forces were taking effect. I was afraid of breaking the sound barrier and being disqualified so I pulled back a few degrees, Ohh it was beautiful! I dove across the finish line yelling at the top of my lungs “FREEEEDOOOOMMMM!” (Breaveheart) Simultaneously, the wind sang a sonnet, the grass danced a poem and the sea vibrated in rhythm. Ohh it was beautiful!
***********************************************************************************
I most enjoyed the island, the people, the elements, and running with Steve, Kristi, Jason, Pumpkin and even the Orangatang. Sure, we concluded our differences on the trail, where they should be settled, in a duel, and my weapon of choice was my running shoes. Yes, my running shoes performed that day, like no other. I may have them bronzed and set next to Wayne Gretzky's bronze statue at the Staples Center, or something like that.
Long Live the (few) Buffalo,
Jake
Thursday, March 27, 2008
La La Land Run
I’ve been resting so much I now have blisters on my arse. I can’t wait to run! I’m chomping at the bit, a bat released from hell, a spider on the fly, a Romanian race horse at the gate, a Siberian, an Alaskan, perhaps a Malamute harnessed to a stationary sled, Gee! Haw! I can’t wait to run! I’ll probably take-off at sub 5 minute miles; Prefontane will be smiling at me from the grave. I'll run so fast I might meet him there. Who knows, I’m liable to break a world record. I’m gonna....Jake! Jake! Calm Down! Slap! Calm Down! Slap! You’ve got the Almighty Catalina in two weeks! Slap!..... Many moments later..... Okay, okay, after the attitude adjustment and careful reconsideration, I’ve decided that the world record is safe, this time.
Instead, I plan on tying a ball and chain to my leg to slow me down. If you see me out there, dragging a ball and chain, but still running like the wind, please do your utmost to Mary Decker trip me. At all costs I must run slowly to avoid spending all my energy, Catalina affords no mercy.
Ahhhh.....on second thought, forget all that running stuff, I think I’ll just kick my feet up, smoke a cigar, drink some coffee, and a little later go take a nap and dream of fantastic feats, it's easier. I'll look for yall on the tellie.
Good luck all.
May the WIND always be at your back,
Jake
Instead, I plan on tying a ball and chain to my leg to slow me down. If you see me out there, dragging a ball and chain, but still running like the wind, please do your utmost to Mary Decker trip me. At all costs I must run slowly to avoid spending all my energy, Catalina affords no mercy.
Ahhhh.....on second thought, forget all that running stuff, I think I’ll just kick my feet up, smoke a cigar, drink some coffee, and a little later go take a nap and dream of fantastic feats, it's easier. I'll look for yall on the tellie.
Good luck all.
May the WIND always be at your back,
Jake
L.A. Marathon Run Report
Dateline: LA Marathon --
Strategy: Conserve energy at LA for Catalina --
Results: At the last moment I elected to replace my ball-and-chain with a beast-of-burden. And heavens to murgatroit was he ever true to his calling. I harnessed the beast and we were off plodding along but only a little quicker then a full reverse. Ohhhh the agony of defeat, I didn’t even break a sweat all day, I ran so slow I could have walked the marathon faster. I pleaded, cajoled and bribed but the beast stayed true to being my burden. Mysteriously, he was unable or unwilling to see the beauty in my desire to gallup. I was left with no alternative but to trot into a convenience store and trot out with a paper bag over my head, incognito. I would have traded all the kings’ men for a better strategy than the one I had concocted. Baw-Humbug…Catalina is another day, I live for the moment and I had a million of them on my hands (and at my feet). I could have painted a Picasso on the way. The next time I come up with a hair-brained strategy like this one, I will take some yarn and needles so I have a nice sweater for grandma at the finish line.
My consolation and moment of glory came at mile 20, my beast-of-burden stopped at the water trough and turned towards the fiddler (bass player) at the circled wagons (stage). This was tantamount to the jailer forgetting the key in the door, it was my supreme opportunity, I dropped the reins and made my break. Free at last! Free at last! I thanked the cosmos I was free at last. Finally, I felt the wind on my face. My strategy was no longer my burden, or the beast.
Conclusion: I had a grand time and my hope is that 30,000 runners, especially you, can say the same. I enjoyed the coaching, beaches, trails, and most of all your company. I trust that we will meet again, if not, I wish you all the best of health, wealth, and happiness.
Out beyond good and bad is a trail, we will meet, rejoice, and run together there.
May your shoes always stay tied,
Strategy: Conserve energy at LA for Catalina --
Results: At the last moment I elected to replace my ball-and-chain with a beast-of-burden. And heavens to murgatroit was he ever true to his calling. I harnessed the beast and we were off plodding along but only a little quicker then a full reverse. Ohhhh the agony of defeat, I didn’t even break a sweat all day, I ran so slow I could have walked the marathon faster. I pleaded, cajoled and bribed but the beast stayed true to being my burden. Mysteriously, he was unable or unwilling to see the beauty in my desire to gallup. I was left with no alternative but to trot into a convenience store and trot out with a paper bag over my head, incognito. I would have traded all the kings’ men for a better strategy than the one I had concocted. Baw-Humbug…Catalina is another day, I live for the moment and I had a million of them on my hands (and at my feet). I could have painted a Picasso on the way. The next time I come up with a hair-brained strategy like this one, I will take some yarn and needles so I have a nice sweater for grandma at the finish line.
My consolation and moment of glory came at mile 20, my beast-of-burden stopped at the water trough and turned towards the fiddler (bass player) at the circled wagons (stage). This was tantamount to the jailer forgetting the key in the door, it was my supreme opportunity, I dropped the reins and made my break. Free at last! Free at last! I thanked the cosmos I was free at last. Finally, I felt the wind on my face. My strategy was no longer my burden, or the beast.
Conclusion: I had a grand time and my hope is that 30,000 runners, especially you, can say the same. I enjoyed the coaching, beaches, trails, and most of all your company. I trust that we will meet again, if not, I wish you all the best of health, wealth, and happiness.
Out beyond good and bad is a trail, we will meet, rejoice, and run together there.
May your shoes always stay tied,
Tin Man 2 Iron Man
As I gazed across the Pacific Ocean yesterday I caught a glimpse of Kailua-Kona, Hawaii. The image and the off-shore breeze provided me with the final surge of inspiration that I needed. Yesterday was truly special; I settled the hardest part of accomplishing a goal. I finalized it in my mind, made the commitment, established an internal quasi-contractual agreement, until death do we part, in sickness and in health – the objective shall be met. So let it be written - So let it be done ! (What the hell is this guy babbling about now?)
It’s time to expand my horizon. The man-of-tin (foil) shall become the man-of-steel (iron), an ironman. I shall swim the rough water of Kailua (2.4 miles), bicycle along the Kona Coast (112 miles), and run a marathon through Kailua-Kona.
I’m starting off slow. Today, I signed-up for swim lessons to develop and practice good habits. Come join me at the Belmont Shore swimming pool (adjacent to the Belmont Shore pier and across from Yankee Doodles Sports Bar) every Monday and Wednesday from 6:00 pm to 7:00 pm. The class will begin March 17 for five weeks, costs $50 skins and is limited to 10 adults. As of today a total of 6 people have signed up. After this course I will evaluate my effeciency in the water and determine whether more lessons are necessary.
Ironman Statistics:
Throughout 2007, more than 60,000 competitors strived to qualify for one of 1,800 spots at the event. More than 4,300 people entered the lottery program, where 150 slots were given to U.S. athletes and 50 to international athletes. The course records go to Luc Van Lierde, 8:04:08 in 1996 and Paula Newby-Fraser, 8:55:28 in 1992
The average Ironman triathlete spends 18 to 24 hours each week training for this event. A typical week includes seven miles of swimming, 225 miles of biking and 48 miles of running. Many competitors also cross-train with weight training, stretching and yoga.
The average temperatures on race day are from 82 to 95 degrees, with the humidity hovering around 90 percent. Crosswinds on portions of the bike course can gust as high as 60 mph.
In 2010 the race will be conducted on October 9.
Have a Go(o)d and Buddhaful Day,
It’s time to expand my horizon. The man-of-tin (foil) shall become the man-of-steel (iron), an ironman. I shall swim the rough water of Kailua (2.4 miles), bicycle along the Kona Coast (112 miles), and run a marathon through Kailua-Kona.
I’m starting off slow. Today, I signed-up for swim lessons to develop and practice good habits. Come join me at the Belmont Shore swimming pool (adjacent to the Belmont Shore pier and across from Yankee Doodles Sports Bar) every Monday and Wednesday from 6:00 pm to 7:00 pm. The class will begin March 17 for five weeks, costs $50 skins and is limited to 10 adults. As of today a total of 6 people have signed up. After this course I will evaluate my effeciency in the water and determine whether more lessons are necessary.
Ironman Statistics:
Throughout 2007, more than 60,000 competitors strived to qualify for one of 1,800 spots at the event. More than 4,300 people entered the lottery program, where 150 slots were given to U.S. athletes and 50 to international athletes. The course records go to Luc Van Lierde, 8:04:08 in 1996 and Paula Newby-Fraser, 8:55:28 in 1992
The average Ironman triathlete spends 18 to 24 hours each week training for this event. A typical week includes seven miles of swimming, 225 miles of biking and 48 miles of running. Many competitors also cross-train with weight training, stretching and yoga.
The average temperatures on race day are from 82 to 95 degrees, with the humidity hovering around 90 percent. Crosswinds on portions of the bike course can gust as high as 60 mph.
In 2010 the race will be conducted on October 9.
Have a Go(o)d and Buddhaful Day,
Catalina Marathon
It was a run unlike any other. The island was humming with nostalgia, the elements purred in concert, the wind teased the grasslands, and in turn they playfully parried and danced a jig. The sky was clear, baby-blue and a sharp contrast to the greens and bountiful deep blue. Ole deep-blue was littered with white-caps, they dashed and bounced about and displayed unlimited potential all day.
I ran the first 10 miles with Steve and Kristi. Steve was in style, of course, he also gave us great coaching all the way, very effective. Kristi was a joy; she had a perpetual smile on her face and in her eyes, very inspiring. I felt better at the end of 10 then I did at the start. It was time for gdasshoppaw to venture out and tackle the mountain or at least kick it in the chins and chi-run away.
I was off and racing. I passed the orangutan (a hairy guy from N.J. dressed in orange & black) five or six times, we battled for eight miles. The last time I passed him I said, “Orangatang (yes, I called him that) the only way you’ll pass me again is if death comes and sweeps me from my feet!” The orangatang replied, “Oh ya, the next time I pass you, I’m gonna spank you and take your lunch money too!” Suffice to say, I was not greeted by death that day.
As I pranced up and down the hills I came across pumpkin (a woman from San Francisco dressed in orange and black). We ran together for an hour and I shared half a dozen fables. Finally, I told her, “Pumpkin (yes, I called her that) at 21 my plan is to kick sand in your face and if necessary crunch some knuckles, anything to climb my way to the front. I was careful to explain that I have no friends on the race course, only foes. At 21 miles I attempted both but she was too wiry and nimble, I couldn’t.
At 17 or 18 we stumbled across Beach Runner Jason. We ran together in perfect harmony. At mile 22 we had us a runners spread fit for a king, at the buffet, we shared and passed back and forth everything but Alaskan king crab legs. We were preparing for the final haul. In my minds eye I was secretly scheming how to beat this guy and shake the pumpkin. Sure, I played the undercover false friend, but what I had in store for these two pigeons was complete and utter defeat.
At mile 23 we all kicked in the turbo overdrive. Ohh it was beautiful! I was moving soooo fast that the scenery became blurry, my eyes began watering, my face was contorted and pulled back, alas, the G-forces were taking effect. I was afraid of breaking the sound barrier and being disqualified so I pulled back a few degrees, Ohh it was beautiful! I dove across the finish line yelling at the top of my lungs “FREEEEDOOOOMMMM!” (Breaveheart) Simultaneously, the wind sang a sonnet, the grass danced a poem and the sea vibrated in rhythm. Ohh it was beautiful!
***********************************************************************************
I most enjoyed the island, the people, the elements, and running with Steve, Kristi, Jason, Pumpkin and even the Orangatang. Sure, we concluded our differences on the trail, where they should be settled, in a duel, and my weapon of choice was my running shoes. Yes, my running shoes performed that day, like no other. I may have them bronzed and set next to Wayne Gretzky's bronze statue at the Staples Center, or something like that.
I ran the first 10 miles with Steve and Kristi. Steve was in style, of course, he also gave us great coaching all the way, very effective. Kristi was a joy; she had a perpetual smile on her face and in her eyes, very inspiring. I felt better at the end of 10 then I did at the start. It was time for gdasshoppaw to venture out and tackle the mountain or at least kick it in the chins and chi-run away.
I was off and racing. I passed the orangutan (a hairy guy from N.J. dressed in orange & black) five or six times, we battled for eight miles. The last time I passed him I said, “Orangatang (yes, I called him that) the only way you’ll pass me again is if death comes and sweeps me from my feet!” The orangatang replied, “Oh ya, the next time I pass you, I’m gonna spank you and take your lunch money too!” Suffice to say, I was not greeted by death that day.
As I pranced up and down the hills I came across pumpkin (a woman from San Francisco dressed in orange and black). We ran together for an hour and I shared half a dozen fables. Finally, I told her, “Pumpkin (yes, I called her that) at 21 my plan is to kick sand in your face and if necessary crunch some knuckles, anything to climb my way to the front. I was careful to explain that I have no friends on the race course, only foes. At 21 miles I attempted both but she was too wiry and nimble, I couldn’t.
At 17 or 18 we stumbled across Beach Runner Jason. We ran together in perfect harmony. At mile 22 we had us a runners spread fit for a king, at the buffet, we shared and passed back and forth everything but Alaskan king crab legs. We were preparing for the final haul. In my minds eye I was secretly scheming how to beat this guy and shake the pumpkin. Sure, I played the undercover false friend, but what I had in store for these two pigeons was complete and utter defeat.
At mile 23 we all kicked in the turbo overdrive. Ohh it was beautiful! I was moving soooo fast that the scenery became blurry, my eyes began watering, my face was contorted and pulled back, alas, the G-forces were taking effect. I was afraid of breaking the sound barrier and being disqualified so I pulled back a few degrees, Ohh it was beautiful! I dove across the finish line yelling at the top of my lungs “FREEEEDOOOOMMMM!” (Breaveheart) Simultaneously, the wind sang a sonnet, the grass danced a poem and the sea vibrated in rhythm. Ohh it was beautiful!
***********************************************************************************
I most enjoyed the island, the people, the elements, and running with Steve, Kristi, Jason, Pumpkin and even the Orangatang. Sure, we concluded our differences on the trail, where they should be settled, in a duel, and my weapon of choice was my running shoes. Yes, my running shoes performed that day, like no other. I may have them bronzed and set next to Wayne Gretzky's bronze statue at the Staples Center, or something like that.
Friday, February 29, 2008
Beady-Eyed Birds
I satisfied my lust for power last night. It was exhilarating! You should have seen me; I was on top of my game. I had hundreds of creatures in dread and cautious of my every move. Allow me to tell you a riveting story. Last night I was running down the boardwalk in Long Beach minding my own business and I happened to pass a massive gaggle of shifty-eyed seagulls with a chip on their shoulder, unruly pelicans with an attitude, and beady-eyed red/black birds looking for trouble. They were all over the sand acting like they owned the place! Yes, they were crowding me! I looked toward the ocean they were all standing around, posturing, looking like little street birds, sagging. I could tell that they were up to no-good. As I ran passed the fowl I noticed many had foul smirks, sneers, and disdain written across their smug faces. I couldn't believe it, I looked over my shoulder and heard them laughing at me like a pack of hyenas.
Ohhhhh they can’t fool me, ohhh no, I know exactly what they were thinking. They were thinking, “Those mere mortals, they run in circles, they run back and forth, up and down those stairs, they are so limited and slow, they are such fools. They chase meaningless materials and fuss and worry over nothing and everything all the time, they are nothing like us. We don’t worry about cloths, cars, houses or even our next meal, we fret about nothing; we enjoy the land, air, and sea, all the time. We own the skies! We are sooo superior!”
Sure, the beady eyed birds had a good laugh at my expense, but not for long. As they yukked it up, I snapped and turned around with malice in my heart. I was bound to ruffle-up a few feathers. The beach was no longer big enough for me and a bunch of trouble-makers. I chased those rascals around, in circles, back and forth, and up and down, for 15 minutes. They fought hard to hold their ground but in the end their persistence did not pay. The condescending fowl had to fly away. I’ll bet they had a foul taste in their mouths when they left. That pack of fluff and feathers may own the skies but I owned that patch of sand, for 15 minutes.
I no longer have need to command legions of men as I am now completely satisfied with chasing, in circles, back and forth, and up and down, a mass of wise-guy birds. I was the superior life form on the beach tonight, for 15 minutes.
Why stop to smell the roses when you can run and chase the birds?
Ohhhhh they can’t fool me, ohhh no, I know exactly what they were thinking. They were thinking, “Those mere mortals, they run in circles, they run back and forth, up and down those stairs, they are so limited and slow, they are such fools. They chase meaningless materials and fuss and worry over nothing and everything all the time, they are nothing like us. We don’t worry about cloths, cars, houses or even our next meal, we fret about nothing; we enjoy the land, air, and sea, all the time. We own the skies! We are sooo superior!”
Sure, the beady eyed birds had a good laugh at my expense, but not for long. As they yukked it up, I snapped and turned around with malice in my heart. I was bound to ruffle-up a few feathers. The beach was no longer big enough for me and a bunch of trouble-makers. I chased those rascals around, in circles, back and forth, and up and down, for 15 minutes. They fought hard to hold their ground but in the end their persistence did not pay. The condescending fowl had to fly away. I’ll bet they had a foul taste in their mouths when they left. That pack of fluff and feathers may own the skies but I owned that patch of sand, for 15 minutes.
I no longer have need to command legions of men as I am now completely satisfied with chasing, in circles, back and forth, and up and down, a mass of wise-guy birds. I was the superior life form on the beach tonight, for 15 minutes.
Why stop to smell the roses when you can run and chase the birds?
Hari Krishna
Chant this in series of 16:
Hari Krishna
Hari Krishna
Krishna Krishna
Hari Hari
Hari Rama
Hari Rama
Rama Rama
Hari Hari
Its purpose is simply to clear, open, and prepare the body and mind to talk to God.
Hari Krishna
Hari Krishna
Krishna Krishna
Hari Hari
Hari Rama
Hari Rama
Rama Rama
Hari Hari
Its purpose is simply to clear, open, and prepare the body and mind to talk to God.
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Lost Keys
A number of people have emailed me recently requesting news, views, and reviews of the Jake’s feeble interpretations and understandings.
I live to please. I shall begin by giving some deep and profound advice. I give a personal guarantee that if you listen and practice this advice with all your heart, mind, soul, and strength you will eventually learn to be less like me. So here we go (again).
Last Saturday I ran 23 miles and finished dog tired, thirsty and hungry. I moseyed on over to a great little fresh fish restaurant in San Pedro and ordered the yellow- tail fish dinner. As I began stripping and changing from my wet running cloths I noticed that people were watching (shame is for the cold and huddled masses, not me). I immediately told the children to close their eyes and the woman to look over here with 20’s between their teeth (for stuffing my speedo’s). I notice that the keys in my hand were impeding the strip tease. I set my keys down and proceeded to entertain the woman folk, all to the dismay of the hostilemen. After the standing ovation and collecting all the 20’s laying about I sat down to eat my lunch. All was fine in heaven and earth until it was time to leave.
My keys were gone! I immediately began to convict every breathing creature in the establishment for intentional, devious, and underhanded thievery. I could tell, for sure, he did it because of those beady eyes, that one for his shifty nature, this one must have ripped-me-off because he had poor eye contact, absolutely it had to be that guy with the one long eyebrow, it was a dead give away. Just as I jumped into my kung fu stance and was about to kung fu everybody in the restaurant, Laura, the waitress calmed me down so we could start the key hunt. I dug through all the trash cans, searched high and low, they were not in the car, the restaurant, my pockets, the trash cans, or the bath room. They vanished! Where did they go? Did I just witness a nonsensical miracle?
After 45 minutes of intensive searching I decided that I had to call a lock smith to come and unlock the car and make me a million keys (for millions of denero). Laura gave me some change to use the pay phone (cell was locked in the car). I walked over to the pay phone and bent over to tie my shoe lace. To my dismay I heard a jingle. What? Where? Angeles? Insanity? My pockets are empty but I check for the 50th time. Am I so tired that I’ve become delirious? I bend down again pretending that my tied shoe was untied. Jingle. Now I’m cursing and foaming at the mouth! Are evil spirits conspiring just to mess with me? I bend down again to tie the tied shoe string for the third time. Jingle! Jingle! What the F&#K!
Only a finely tuned mind like mine could dissect this intriguing mystery. No, the butler didn’t do it, but I did accuse the waitress, of course. After careful contemplation, the genius finally figured it out! All that hard earned education finally paid off! Are you ready for this one? I don't think you are. I would feel more comfortable if you turned off your computer right now, go meditate for a few hours and come back later when your mind is better prepared. Okay, your back, you will never ever guess where my keys were, I'm embarrassed to admit it but...okay, okay, here we go...The keys were literally sitting on top of my head the whole time.
Apparently when I took off my cap to change shirts I set the keys in the baseball cap. After changing shirts I put the cap back on my head with the keys inside the cap. I didn’t feel any keys (only 6) konck me on the head.
I usually despise untied shoe laces, but in this case I will forever be grateful, that shoe lace saved this weary body a bundle of time and money. I literally had my keys sitting on my brain but couldn't figure out where they were.
Some profound advice: The next time you loose your keys and you’re running around like a rabid dog looking everywhere and the same places for the 50th time, be sure to check that they are not sitting on top of your head. Forever more that will be the first place I check.
I live to please. I shall begin by giving some deep and profound advice. I give a personal guarantee that if you listen and practice this advice with all your heart, mind, soul, and strength you will eventually learn to be less like me. So here we go (again).
Last Saturday I ran 23 miles and finished dog tired, thirsty and hungry. I moseyed on over to a great little fresh fish restaurant in San Pedro and ordered the yellow- tail fish dinner. As I began stripping and changing from my wet running cloths I noticed that people were watching (shame is for the cold and huddled masses, not me). I immediately told the children to close their eyes and the woman to look over here with 20’s between their teeth (for stuffing my speedo’s). I notice that the keys in my hand were impeding the strip tease. I set my keys down and proceeded to entertain the woman folk, all to the dismay of the hostilemen. After the standing ovation and collecting all the 20’s laying about I sat down to eat my lunch. All was fine in heaven and earth until it was time to leave.
My keys were gone! I immediately began to convict every breathing creature in the establishment for intentional, devious, and underhanded thievery. I could tell, for sure, he did it because of those beady eyes, that one for his shifty nature, this one must have ripped-me-off because he had poor eye contact, absolutely it had to be that guy with the one long eyebrow, it was a dead give away. Just as I jumped into my kung fu stance and was about to kung fu everybody in the restaurant, Laura, the waitress calmed me down so we could start the key hunt. I dug through all the trash cans, searched high and low, they were not in the car, the restaurant, my pockets, the trash cans, or the bath room. They vanished! Where did they go? Did I just witness a nonsensical miracle?
After 45 minutes of intensive searching I decided that I had to call a lock smith to come and unlock the car and make me a million keys (for millions of denero). Laura gave me some change to use the pay phone (cell was locked in the car). I walked over to the pay phone and bent over to tie my shoe lace. To my dismay I heard a jingle. What? Where? Angeles? Insanity? My pockets are empty but I check for the 50th time. Am I so tired that I’ve become delirious? I bend down again pretending that my tied shoe was untied. Jingle. Now I’m cursing and foaming at the mouth! Are evil spirits conspiring just to mess with me? I bend down again to tie the tied shoe string for the third time. Jingle! Jingle! What the F&#K!
Only a finely tuned mind like mine could dissect this intriguing mystery. No, the butler didn’t do it, but I did accuse the waitress, of course. After careful contemplation, the genius finally figured it out! All that hard earned education finally paid off! Are you ready for this one? I don't think you are. I would feel more comfortable if you turned off your computer right now, go meditate for a few hours and come back later when your mind is better prepared. Okay, your back, you will never ever guess where my keys were, I'm embarrassed to admit it but...okay, okay, here we go...The keys were literally sitting on top of my head the whole time.
Apparently when I took off my cap to change shirts I set the keys in the baseball cap. After changing shirts I put the cap back on my head with the keys inside the cap. I didn’t feel any keys (only 6) konck me on the head.
I usually despise untied shoe laces, but in this case I will forever be grateful, that shoe lace saved this weary body a bundle of time and money. I literally had my keys sitting on my brain but couldn't figure out where they were.
Some profound advice: The next time you loose your keys and you’re running around like a rabid dog looking everywhere and the same places for the 50th time, be sure to check that they are not sitting on top of your head. Forever more that will be the first place I check.
La La Land Marathon
We're running the La La Land Marathon on Sunday. I emailed my friends the following message: I’ve been resting so much I now have blisters on my arse. I can’t wait to run! I’m chomping at the bit, a bat released from hell, a spider on the fly, a Romanian race horse at the gate, a Siberian, an Alaskan, perhaps a Malamute harnessed to a stationary sled, Gee! Haw! I can’t wait to run! I’ll probably take-off at sub 5 minute miles; Prefontane will be smiling at me from the grave. I'll run so fast I might meet him there. Who knows, I’m liable to break a world record. I’m gonna....Jake! Jake! Calm Down! SLAP! Calm Down! SLAP! You’ve got the Almighty Catalina in two weeks! SLAP!.....Many moments later..... Okay, okay, after the attitude adjustment and careful reconsideration, I’ve decided that the world record is safe, this time.
Instead, I plan on tying a ball and chain to my leg to slow me down. If you see me out there, dragging a ball and chain, but still running like the wind, please do your utmost to Mary Decker trip me. At all costs I must run slowly to avoid spending all my energy, Catalina affords no mercy.
Ahhhh.....on second thought, forget all that running stuff, I think I’ll just kick my feet up, smoke a cigar, drink some coffee, and a little later go take a nap and dream of fantastic feats, it's easier. I'll look for yall on the tellie.
Good luck all.
May the WIND always be at your back,
Jake
Instead, I plan on tying a ball and chain to my leg to slow me down. If you see me out there, dragging a ball and chain, but still running like the wind, please do your utmost to Mary Decker trip me. At all costs I must run slowly to avoid spending all my energy, Catalina affords no mercy.
Ahhhh.....on second thought, forget all that running stuff, I think I’ll just kick my feet up, smoke a cigar, drink some coffee, and a little later go take a nap and dream of fantastic feats, it's easier. I'll look for yall on the tellie.
Good luck all.
May the WIND always be at your back,
Jake
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