The Warrior Dash

-sigh-

I will give these kids the fact that it was dark, but that is the only thing I’ll give them. It was one of those frontage residential roads just off the main street. Well lit, as I mentioned, with a car approaching from the opposite direction. I noticed my shadow in front of me and realized a car was also coming up from behind. There are no sidewalks in this area, so I was in the street, but all the way to the right, in fact I was running in the gutter. The next thing I know a bumper is eating my right foot!?! MY RIGHT FOOT!! The foot nearest the curb!!! If the car had been any more to the right, he’d have straddled the curb!

Somehow the car is moving slow enough that as my ankle begins to buckle underneath the bumper, the kid realizes what is going on and stops. Surprisingly, I don’t even fall. Any faster and I’d probably be wishing I had medical insurance right about now. It’s about this point my brain finally produces the thought that, HOLY CRAP! I’m being run over!

With my heart and adrenalin already up there a mile into the run, you can imagine what it’s now at. I check my ankle tenderly, seems okay. The kid, can’t be more than 17, gets out and asks, “Dude! Are you okay? My response? MY RESPONSE?!

“Yeah. Are you okay?”

I’m nearly run over by a newly licensed, acne plagued, immature, stoned out of his mind, punk of a teen and all I’m concerned with is whether he’s all right!? What’s wrong with me!? Wait, don’t answer that.

His excuse? The windows are foggy. Well yeah, foggy with that pesky spliff induced cloud that can linger in a car.

There’s really nothing that can be done at this point. My ankle feels fine, they’re both rattled out of their minds and I just want to leave before I do something stupid to the kid. It doesn’t help that he keeps repeating, “My bad, dude. My bad.”

My only consolation is the look of his passenger. She’s frozen solid, has not moved a muscle since the car stopped and has this look on her face as if she has just peered into the depths of Hell as envisioned by an unrestrained Tim Burton with the usual musical accompaniment of Danny Elfman.

“Look, it was an accident. Just get back in the Mystery Machine with the rest of the gang, Shaggy. I’ll be okay.”

I finished the run, thinking just how lucky I was. Yet again! What’s next? Getting hit by a car while I’m reading a book in my living room?!

The test isn’t difficult, you just feel ragged at the end if it. There are three events: push ups, sit ups and a 2 mile run. You have two minutes to max out the repetitions in the first two events and then of course you just run as fast as you can for 2 miles. Each event has a max score of 100 and it’s weighted by age. On a side note, I’ve always found it odd that my age range, 27 to 31, has the highest repetitions and shortest time to max out the test.

To make a long story epically longer, I slacked off after getting out of training back in July so I wasn’t quite the same physical specimen. I was most worried about the run and how much time I would add since my best of 13:24 back in AIT. Apparently, the worrying worked because I only added 20 seconds and that ain’t too shabby for carrying an additional 15 pounds!

The down side? My calves have filed for divorce, citing irreconcilable differences. They each feel like a rubber band stretched as far as possible with a nail dragging itself lengthwise across the band with each step I take. I look like Frankenstein’s monster every time I get up and try to walk until my calves relent enough for me to at least look like a low grade looney walking down the hall. And wincing through my head with each step, “and you’re going to run a marathon in February?”

I went for a 5 mile run today and stretched the calves back out. They’re a bit tight still, but better I think. It always amazes me how any aches and pains I have at the start of a run go away within the first quarter mile. I guess tomorrow morning’s crawl out of bed will be the presiding judge in this corporeal suit.

*I’m pretty sure CliffsNotes doesn’t have a translation on this one yet.
**Many thanks to the Bard and allowing me to utterly trash his timeless soliloquy.

While working at ACA we would often fly over this area (Norfolk/Newport News) on our way down south. On one particular flight a Captain pointed out a bunch of mothballed Naval ships all tied together and anchored in the back bay area. You could only really see them from cruise altitudes and I never brought binoculars to get a closer look, but they were always something I wanted a closer look at. A watery grave comparable to the aircraft boneyards at Davis-Montham and Mojave.

By coincidence, I was reading Tom Clancy’s Without Remorse a few months later and a large portion of the plot took place on those very same mothballed ships. A passing thought of “hey, I know where Clancy is describing” and then it never really crossed my mind again.

Turns out Ft. Eustis is located on that very same back bay that I flew over almost daily and I never put 2 and 2 together. Until Yesterday. Running one of our painfully slow company runs (I’ll gripe about those later) we came around a corner and found ourselves along a shoreline, quite nice actually for running if you ask me. Anyway, along the shoreline appeared all of those very same mothballed Naval ships, less than a 1/4 mile away. And the world folded over on itself once more, making itself that much smaller.

I’d ask advice from everyone’s favorite Scientologist, but I fear another innocent couch would get molested in the process.

On the other hand, it was quite interesting running through the neighborhood tonight. Everyone seemed to be cooking or having dinner at about the same time. I distinctly smelled an eclectic spread of hamburgers, pizza, garlic bread, chicken, spaghetti, tamales, refried beans, and something unidentifiable but who’s scent made my mouth water. Now that you’re hungry and stuck in your office with nothing to eat, I laugh in your general direction.

Even the lovely aroma of burned popcorn made an appearance, or should I say wafting? That stench brought me right back to the dorm and living right across the hallway from the kitchen!

“Today, You Are All Kenyans!”

“Short Cut: This Way”

“Need Knee Replacements? Call Dr. Nick Riviera!”

“You Can Dooo Eeet!”

“Why?”

“Run, Forrest, Run!”

“Just Think Of All The Calories You’re Burning”

And the best line, yet most obscure:

“Is It Safe?”

A beer on me, if you know the reference. Dad, you don’t count, you already know it.

I cannot think of another baseball team that has had a bigger identity crisis. They make Sybil look like a well rounded, girl next door type. Lesse, they started as the Los Angeles Angels. Makes sense, they played in L.A., sharing the Chavez Ravine Stadium with an already established L.A. team, the Dodgers. then became the California Angels upon moving into the Anaheim Stadium. They stuck with this name until the mid 90s when it became popular to whore out naming rights to the highest bidder. Can you spell Disney? A couple of stadium name, uniform, and owner changes and they finally had the rightfully named Anaheim Angels. Everything was once again at peace in the world of MLB.

Then the world shuddered. At the beginning of the 2005 season, the new owner, Arte Moreno thought it would be a good (read: lucrative) idea to rename the team, the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim. Problem: the Angels do not play in the city of L.A., they don’t even play in the county of L.A.! Thus, a curse is born.

As witnessed by their piss poor performance in the ALCS, I believe there is now a curse on the Angels until they remove Los Angeles from the name. Granted, the White Sox had amazing performances from their bullpen, but they should not have stopped the first place AL West team so coldly. How else does one explain Vlad going 1 for 16? Or Francisco Rodriguez pitching so wildly last night (oh wait, he never handles pressure well)? I won’t even get into all the strange plays and umpire calls. I ask you, readers, do you need more proof? Just change the name ALREADY!

Now if only I could figure out how to get the Dodgers to actually win, I’d be a happy man!

Side Note: My body has since revolted and is now on strike until negotiations can commence between it and my brain, which I think may be striking too. I’m so screwed!

First, the rants:

You, with AT LEAST $3.00 in change in your pocket, WHY?
You, on the first hill, quit cutting me off!!
You, wearing the 5 pounds of Ben Gay, you are making me light-headed!!
You, with the phone, whatever it is, IT CAN’T BE THAT IMPORTANT!!
You, why are you beeping like a time bomb?
You in the car, I’m RUNNING over heya!
You, handing out the beers, What the HELL is wrong with you?!
You, running event coordinator, WHERE THE FRELL WERE MY GELS!!

Now, the nods:

You, in the wheelchair, impressive, very impressive, man!
You, running barefoot, er, um, okay, whatever flips your cricket bat, man!
You, all of you that came out to cheer us on, THANK YOU!
You, random 4 year old boy that gave me five, you’ll never know how much that helped!
You, random 7 year old girl that gave me a COLD cup of Gatorade, I SOOO needed that.
Bib #1969, with those red pants, you gave me the motivation for the last seven miles. You single?
Mom and Tom, as always, for being there. Thank you.
You, who donated, both Angel and I cannot show enough gratitude.

So let’s recap the goals, shall we?

Basic Goals
Finish the Marathon 4:44:20
No dying Still alive last I checked…barely
Enjoy myself and have fun Definitely. When’s the next one? Helsinki? Athens?

Super Goals
Finish the Marathon under 4 hours…Maybe next time (It hurts saying next time)
Raise the stated amount of donations…Close, but no cigar
Make some new friends…Too busy trying not to die
No walking…The first time you get water up your nose at a waterstation, you’ll start walking too!

Über-Super Goals
Finish the Marathon under 3:45…See above
Raise over the stated amount of donations…See Above
Meet an attractive single woman on the course (like I said, über)…Again, like I said, ÜBER!

I couldn’t obviously complete all the goals or I wouldn’t have a reason to run another marathon! There are definitely things I’ll do different next time. We won’t even go into the shot of Nyquil last night. Stupid, stupid, stupid! It rained, it shined, it was cloudy, the wind blew, it was cold, it was hot. You gotta love Southern California. Time to stretch the legs AGAIN. More later.