New Year, New ... Damnit.

So much for new year and good intentions...I have not been feeling very productive writing-wise lately. Also, because I have been a little grumpy about winter and the weather and and and..., I might just have whined all the time anyway.

On a more positive note, it was my birthday a couple of weeks ago, and I got my first ever cookie-cake. If I recall correctly (sorry mom, in case this is wrong...), it was also my first ever cake with writing on it. Excellent.
Here it is:

And yes, it was as tasty as it looks. Thank you, Mr.Lara. Haha.

This Is Your Life

Just a quick follow-up to the last post about the new year, new goals and such.

It's (hopefully) too early to ponder my lifetime achievements, but here's one thing that's on my list for 2009 and beyond:
No, not having my own show (even though that sounds good, too), but:

• to be a guest on NPR's Talk of the Nation (Best. Show. Ever.) and chat with Neal Conan. In person, if at all possible.

To be invited to the show would be awesome enough, quite frankly, but if I'm coming up with outrageous lifetime goals, might as well go all out:
Neal and I would either chat about my groundbreaking and highly hilarious research (something worthy of an Ig Nobel Award) or my (both best-selling and critically acclaimed) novel.

Ah, Neal. Nice, educated, articulate, listening. Neal.
Call me.

This Might Be A Little Too Awesome

[I might have gotten a little carried away. Pathos abounds. I'm just excited. I'm sorry. I also spoke for an imaginary 'us' as if I am somehow the spokesperson of the non-U.S. (or at least the European)-world. Maybe I should be, but alas, I am not. I didn't want to be presumptuous. My sincere apologies roughly 6.4 billion people. Haha.]

I wonder whether most Americans, regardless of which candidate they supported during the long '08 campaign, have any idea about this. How great this feels. How excited the rest of the world is.

Americans as a whole are pretty self-confident already. Greatest nation, city upon a hill, and all that. I feel bad that I have to inflate the American ego even more, but here it comes: You do matter a lot to the rest of us. We do care about you and your actions. Your economic policies, your foreign policy, your opinions on issues like gun control, death penalty, abortion. - We might not agree or even violently oppose them. Still, we listen to what you have to say and we are watching you closely.

You are like a friend and lover to us. A slightly over-confident friend we admire, yet observe warily sometimes. We never really know what you are up to. We hope it is another great adventure we can participate in. We sometimes fear you might get yourself and us into major trouble.
We always admire you though. The ideals you stand for. The confident way you carry yourself. The unwavering faith you have in your own strength. You might even say we love you. And we want you to love us, too.

Right now, it feels like our long-term affair, an often painful relationship after all, is reignited. We're on fire. YOU'RE on fire. You did it. You elected a politician we've had a crush on for months. We feel the potential for great romance. An epic love story. We don't know what the next four years will bring, but we're excited. And hopeful. And full of anticipation of things to come.

There is lingering doubt that this might sound too good to be true. Great enthusiasm and hope bear tremendous potential for crushing disappointment and despair.
We're ready though. Ready to take risks. Ready to go out on a limb. Ready to trust you.

America. Obama. You make us want to be a better friend.

Voting - I'm Loving It

Maybe my life is just really and truly sad. Or maybe I just really and truly appreciate the beauty and all-around-awesomeness of this day. Today. Election Day.
Finally.

I followed the primaries, I've seen the debates, I watched the TV commentaries and specials, I read the newspaper articles. I tried to get more insight into the issues I care most about or should care more about: Education, health care, the economy. I had discussions with friends, colleagues, and online weirdos.
I'm psyched.

I'm also bummed because for some reason I cannot wrap my head around the fact that a nation as grand and awe-inspiring as the USA (Yes, I'm a fan...) is experiencing and predicting such an abundance of problems. Morally reprehensible campaigning, disenfranchised blocks of voters, voter fraud, etc.
But more on this some other time...Maybe.

As usual, I do have a candidate I am rooting for (...with quite a bit of enthusiasm, too. Ha!), but today I'm even more excited about voting.
It's a simple enough process; a process most people take for granted or even choose to ignore.
Voting is a right and privilege many of our ancestors did not have. So they fought for it. Bitterly sometimes. Deciding not to vote or claiming that politics is not 'interesting' to you is like saying your life is not interesting to you. We live in societies. With other people. We all have shared interests. We drive on the same roads, go to the same schools, eat the same food. We all need a doctor or a police officer sometimes. We share responsibilities and tasks in societies.
So, hell yes! Transportation, education, food safety, health care, law enforcement -everything- is to some extent a shared endeavor.
Why would you not want to participate in the process that comes up with laws, guidelines and regulations? Why would you not want to make your voice heard?

Many of our contemporaries in other countries still do not have this right and privilege. Their opinions go unheard. They cannot cast their ballot and make a difference.
We can.

I feel supremely cheesy as I am typing all this, but I don't care: Today I want to revel in the glory of the voting process, the beauty of the democratic system. Voting. So simple, yet so beautiful.
I'm loving it.

Chicago Marathon 2008 - Bigger Is Better

Yes, bigger is indeed better. A big city/huge crowd-marathon like Chicago was definitely the right choice for me. And no, being bigger weight-wise than I used to be a few months ago was not better. Haha. More excuses later...

If this whole entry seems a bit incoherent and unstructured, I apologize. The whole experience was a little overwhelming. There were so many things going on in my head and during the race, I experienced a little information-overload that I still haven't been able to organize completely...

The one thing I've been wondering about for the last two weeks: How long are you allowed to brag about your first marathon? A few days? A week? A month? Forever? Haha.

Well, long story short: I did it. Not fast, but I did it. On October 12, 2008, I dragged my tired ass over the finish line of the Chicago Marathon. Ha! Actually, that's not completely accurate. Yes, I was tired and exhausted, but I wasn't dragging, at least that's not how I felt. I felt pretty damn energized.
I cannot figure out how to illegally save the pictures off of the MarathonFoto website, but believe me, I have this huge grin on my face in all of the pictures. I'm the one in all black on the right side.

Oh, and I saw this the day before the race on Lake Michigan, and for some reason found it both fitting and hilarious:
The race was fantastic. A little too warm for my taste and for what I am used to here in the Netherlands, but because there were so many water/Gatorade-stations, it wasn't such a big deal...
To me, it felt as if the whole city was in marathon-mode, even before race day. Pretty awesome.

I started out in the back of the huge crowd (Get this, after the race, I get an email that says I was finisher #14,000-something out of 31,000. Haha. It's like a town twice the size of my home town was on the move. Awesome.) and just tried to pace myself through the whole thing, trying not to freak out. The first 10 miles felt good and I just trudged along at a 10-minute-mile pace or so. Chicago is definitely a great city to run in and I loved the crowds...

Also, I have never had a very...well, let's call it 'strong' opinion on mp3-players during races (I do believe in following race-rules; so if a race organizer wants to ban them, I will abide. Easy enough, in my opinion...).
The Chicago Marathon has definitely changed that. I felt bad for the runners who decided to block out the rest of the race: Fellow runners, volunteers, the crowds. They missed out on my favorite part: The support of other humans who are passionate about what you are passionate about. Running. Moving. Testing your limits. Being out there and trying something new.

Anyway, I loved saying 'Thank you' to every volunteer who handed me a cup of water or sports drink. I loved commenting on other people's outfits. I loved wishing one runner "Happy Birthday" and congratulating another on her successful fight against cancer (Tons of people with messages/their names on their shirts or bodies - So much to see/read/take in...). Yes, I loved the whole thing. Being out there on my own and still feeling connected to my surroundings, the sea of humans out there with me.

OK, a little cheesy, sorry. It was just a great day.

So the first 10-15 miles went by, I was doing fine. Not going fast, but feeling fine. A little freaked out about getting 'food' in (The only refueling I had every tried was one packet of sports beans during my one really long run. Yes, I know. Not smart.) and just the whole craziness of actually doing a marathon. Me. A marathon. Argh.

My training all year had been sporadic at best, my weight hadn't been where I need it to be for running, I had had a hard time getting motivated. Wonderful. I had done one 3 1/2 hour run in September, figuring that that would approximately be twenty miles.
Yes, I know, lame excuses and all stuff that could have been fixed. By me. And me alone. Just trying to explain why I was a little apprehensive before and during the race and why this undercurrent of anxiety got more and more pronounced the closer I got to the 20-mile mark of the race.

I guess that while I hadn't actually been running as much as I had planned to at the beginning of the year (when I signed up for the race), I had read a shitload about running and racing. I had definitely heard too much about 'the wall'. Yikes. So at mile 15 I was getting a little freaked out. How was I going to deal with cramps or whatever else awful could happen? No way would I drop out after freaking flying to another country to run a race. No no.

Well, I came up with this strategy (That, yes, I might have stolen from one of the gazillion articles I had read on running. Who knows?) that I would 'dedicate' the last seven miles to my six closest family members and one other person I really care about.
Sounds pathetic and overly dramatic, but it worked like a charm. It took me a few miles to figure out how I would actually do it (Haha, seems like my mind was not working at top-speed anymore..); and I organized my parents, two grandmas, two brothers and my friend alphabetically. Seemed logical to me at the time.
So mile 19 started off with my paternal grandmother. I kind of ran through her life in my head. Date of birth, where and how she grew up, how she met my grandpa, etc. etc. This kept me busy and entertained.
Don't want to bore you with all the details, but my mom's mile almost had me crying already (What the?), Buemml's mile featured rock music (Really! It was almost too perfect. The mile marker came and there was a 'music station'. How fitting.) and I remembered Luke's "Go get them, tiger!", which has been a joke between the two of us for 15+ years. Dad's mile was mile 25 and I had to smile because there was no way I could walk or give up now, because he would kick my butt for not sticking with it. Right around that time, I knew I would have to give myself permission to cry a little at the finish line. And I knew that there was no way I wouldn't make it. I would freaking crawl it in if need be.

Anyway, mile 26 kind of went by in a blur while I kept thinking that one mile really isn't that far. Sure felt far though. Looking around, there were people hurting way more than I did, because apart from a little discomfort in the thighs, no wall. Ha! Must have been the slow pace or the mental games I was playing with myself...

The last bit of the race was just amazing. Tons of people on both sides of the 'running path' kept shouting and yelling...The course went uphill for a tiny bit, one last left turn and Yay! the finish line. Right then and there, I couldn't stop smiling. Must have looked weird, but I just couldn't wipe the grin of my face. And yes, I cried after I crossed the finish line. Just a little though. Here's a picture of my medal and the chocolate medal a co-worker gave me. And yes, I hereby officially conclude my bragging about my first marathon.

Time to set my sights on the next goal. Off to bigger and better --- no wait: Bigger marathon? - Not necessarily. Although I do believe that I'm more comfortable in bigger races. So much easier to blend in with the masses. Makes me less self-conscious.
Bigger Me? - Most definitely not. This whole experience would have been even more fun with less pounds to move across 26.2 miles.
Better time? - Hopefully.
Better experience? - Maybe not possible, because I had such an amazing few days and race in Chicago. We'll see.

Until then, thank you Chicago, it was fun.

Bavarians Do It Better

On a bike ride last week I came across this:

A flagpole with the Bavarian flag on top, the German flag hanging much lower. Sheesh.
It made me giggle, because it very accurately represents the Bavarian attitude towards most everybody else: You're OK, but there's no denying that we are the best. Deal with it.

While I do not always agree with that statement (Especially when it comes to politics, conservatism, entanglement of church and state, conservatism, ...Argh, maybe I have to rant about this some other time...), I will say this: Bavarians know how to party and how to put together a kick-ass race.

Which brings me to today's topic: The 2008 Arber Radmarathon, the 24th edition of a bike race which starts and ends in Regensburg, a city close to my parents' home.

My dad had done the race twice before and for some reason I thought I was in decent enough shape to go do it with him this year. The term 'race' might be a bit misleading, because there is no timing or actual racing. Bikers show up at a designated time and do one of the different tours at whatever pace they are comfortable...Some are definitely going fast though, it was pretty impressive.

There were four tours for road bikes and two for mountain bikes. The organizers had also included a tour for families with small kids.

Well, dad and I decided on the second shortest tour (Tour C in yellow in the picture below), but it seemed daunting enough for me. I don't think I've ever biked much further than 100K at a time...


And at any rate, 170 and 250K (blue and purple route) seemed just insane, especially with the elevation. Yikes!

Here's the elevation profile of our ride. The hill at kilometer 80 sucked the most: Tired legs + elevation = no fun.


Well, we set off with what seemed hundreds and hundreds of others at 7AM (All the tours combined had 7000+ bikers.). I started off pretty slow, didn't want to run out of gas halfway. Dad told me later that he was a little worried in the beginning. Guess he wasn't worried so much later, because I think I did alright on the hills. And it got pretty hilly pretty fast. Some nice downhills as well, my maximum speed was 60km/h, which is fast for me...

All in all it was an excellent and amazingly exhausting bike ride. The ride led us through beautiful scenery. Of course, I was too lazy to take a lot of pictures...Here's a few random dudes:


And why do Bavarians do it better?
First off, the organizers, volunteers and the police did a great job patrolling the roads. Much nicer to ride on streets/in towns with less or no traffic...
Secondly, the food/drink stations were really well run. They had all kinds of stuff, and of course the last station had beer already! Haha.


At the end of the ride, there was a huge party with all kinds of food and drink again. Every participant got three drink/food vouchers, which dad immediately exchanged for two more beers and brats.
Don't know how he (and a lot of the others) do it. No way I could down a beer and fatty food right after a ride or run...

Oh, and we got a decent-looking bike jersey at the end as well.

A pretty amazing day, all for the low price of 30 Euros and utter exhaustion.

Home Is Where The Heart Is

Den Haag is my home now. There. I said it.

I didn't feel this way for quite a while. It took me almost two years to consider the city on the North Sea "my home". I always liked living in the area; it's a beautiful and interesting part of Europe.

That said, I liked it, somewhat like you might like a hotel. It's agreeable, it has all the necessary amenities, you can't complain. But it's like any other hotel; interchangeable, temporary. No permanent attachment whatsoever.

That is how I started out in Den Haag. A partner who had no love for the place or the people. A partner who had only a temporary work assignment. A partner who treated the place like a hotel. A luxury hotel, nonetheless, but not a home.

Now that I've inhabited the city by myself for 17 months, I realize that my feelings towards it have slowly changed.

I moved from a 19th floor luxury-apartment (which could have been in any major city of the world; no signs of anything Dutch or local…) to a small apartment that I shared with a roommate (well, three different ones, but one at a time). The apartment had the steep, small Dutch stairwells, a tiny balcony that felt crowded, but cozy. Every way you looked, there were people, neighbors.

The apartment was located in the "most Dutch" part of Den Haag, the seaside resort Scheveningen, a place with the wonderfully decrepit charm of better days.

I could hear the neighbors' baby cry and the students across the road have a party. I said "Hello" to my Dutch neighbors, who rode their bikes to work, planted flowers on the sidewalk and didn’t seem to care that they lived so close together and in plain view of each other.

I felt as if I was finally living in Holland.

I moved last month but the feeling of authenticity hasn't changed. My new place is in a different area, but the concept stays the same. I live IN Den Haag now, not above it. Literally and figuratively. Ground floor instead of 19th floor. Meeting neighbors instead of avoiding them.

I feel more connected to the city and its people. I finally call Den Haag my home. I bike and run through its streets, dunes, and parks. I curse and enjoy its temperamental weather; its relentless rain, infuriating wind and gentle sunshine. I admire its architecture and history, its place in the world. I celebrate its festivals and diverse inhabitants. I'm at home.

Den Haag has slowly and stealthily made its way into my heart. And regardless of what's next on tap, it will always stay there.

Ocean Living Rules Supreme

Not a lot to say, just a few pictures from my after school bike ride through the dunes. I took my regular route towards Monster, just tried to get a few different shots.

One of the many different walk/run paths through the dunes:
There are usually two different paths; one for biking (fietspad - on the right) and one for pedestrians/runners.

The ocean is just a couple of hundred meters away...
My trusty (rusty) companion. Amazing how many miles I have gotten out of this bike. Pretty good deal...
Some of the greenhouses along the way. The really huge ones are in a different area of the country though.

One of the quieter beaches. It's about 10K from Den Haag, most tourists don't make it out here.
Dutch version of Baywatch:

The not-so-pretty sight of Europe's largest port (Rotterdam) in the distance.

And just for Riley:

Swearing - 'Linguistic Art Form' Or Just Laziness?

I've been thinking about this for a while and the untimely demise of George Carlin seems as good an occasion as any to pick this up again.

For as long as I can remember I've been fascinated with language. Just the sheer awesomeness and variety of it. Language and speech are such wonderful and varied tools of communication. The innumerable ways language can be used, celebrated, and manipulated just boggle the mind...

The obsession got worse once I decided to be a linguistics major...Well, and the fascination shows no signs of decreasing any time soon.
I love books, magazines, newspapers, blogs. I appreciate tricky crossword puzzles, wordplay, a clever comeback, memorable quotes.

You get the picture. I should probably write about language more often, just because the subject is so extensive and fascinating, it makes my head hurt. It feels like my thoughts on language are very crowded and unstructured in my mind. Maybe writing some of them down would help untangle the weird web of words.
(Yes, I appreciate alliterations, too. Ha!)

So swearing:

I vaguely remember writing a term paper on swearing and taboo words years ago. Of course, the paper is nowhere to be found. I think it was on the relative 'offensiveness' of certain swearwords. Some are absolute no-gos. Others are probably acceptable. It all depends on context and audience. Hmm. Good place to post this:

(I don't like the collage-video, but the audio portion is great.)

Well, what's my point? I love swearing. I think it adds color and expression to statements. There are not many things more satisfying than a passionate rant littered with swearwords. To me, at least.
Also, from a purely scientific standpoint, no word or expression can be 'bad' or 'unacceptable'. It's all society and associations superimposed on the language...

Of course, language and communication are always 'in context'. So I cannot ignore the fact that there are other people listening and evaluating what I say; people judging me on the way I choose to express myself.

Which brings me to the dilemma: Is swearing a flawed way of communicating after all? Is the frequent use of cuss-words a sign of mediocre language skills? A sign of laziness? Crudeness? Vulgarity? Lack of taste?

I think it could be in some cases. It could be a sign of subpar linguistic expression if you can't reign your swearing in. If you use the same set of words and phrases with everybody; be it your boss, a judge or your brother. The beauty of language is that it's so diverse. Language can be beautiful or coarse, direct or indirect, delicate or sturdy.

That said, I want to be able to use the whole array of words. To forgo all swearing would be censoring myself and it would cut out a significant chunk of the communication tools at my disposal.

Sometimes I want to swear. Loudly. Or mutter a curse under my breath.

So to sum this up:
Fuck, yes. It's an art.

Soccer Mania

It's over. Damnation.

It sure was wonderful to see the whole country being excited and hopeful about the Euro-Soccer Tournament this year.
The Dutch are crazy about their national soccer team and seem to have an inexplicable love for and fascination with the color orange.

I had planned on taking some pictures of the symbols of pride displayed all over, and I took a few...After the devastating loss (Yes, I was a little sad, too...) on Saturday, some of my Dutch neighbors have taken their flags and decorations down, but I might still get lucky...

Here are some pictures of a quite uniquely adorned car and the obligatory little flags outside a local restaurant:

Oh, and when visiting my aunt and uncle in Germany two weeks ago, I was just about to tell them how ridiculously obsessed the Dutch are, when I say this:

Yes, flags galore. In windows, on cars, on bikes.
Guess we all love soccer and a little colorful craziness. It's a good thing, too.

Saw a car with a Turkish-flag flying proudly from its window while I was out running today. Yea, enjoy it while you can...Wednesday. 8:45PM. Game on.

Imperfections

For the last two summers or so, I have been getting two weird sun-spots on my cheeks, kind of close to my nose. They come out at about the same time as the few freckles I have; just when I start to get a little tan...

The sun-spots used to bother me a little. They look slightly odd; plus they are evidence that my skin is a damaged (Actually, I blame Australia. I swear the one year there aged me about five. Damnation.). So, I use sunscreen more consistently now and try to make these skin flaws appear less obvious.

A few days ago at work, when applying some make-up and examining my skin more closely, I thought: Hell, who really gives a rat's ass. So I do have some damage. I have sun-spots and scars and freckles and moles.
I'm not perfect. I'm not unblemished.

A colleague/friend of mine gets blotchy, redish skin when she's upset or agitated. I love that. And I love that I know this about her. It's part of her and what makes her special.

I feel like people spend too much time trying to hide these small flaws; Flaws of both physical and psychological nature...

Keeping up appearances and a perfect image of oneself is too darn exhausting and a waste of time.

I'm still going to use sunscreen, I guess, but I won't be worrying too much anymore...I have flaws, wrinkles, and scars, and I won't be afraid to get some more...

Here's to imperfections!

Fighting For The Smallest Goal...

...To Gain A Little Self-Control.

[Stolen from Bartender514 on my favorite message board; who in turn stole it from Ted Leo and the Pharmacists.]

Not a lot to say, the line just strikes a cord with me.

Agent Mulder Strikes Again

I have no patience or desire to get hooked on TV shows and then have a schedule to follow, i.e. Monday is Desperate Housewives-night, Tuesday it's Lost, and so on.
Not necessarily because my life is so exciting and unpredictable that I would miss a lot of episodes on account of real-life adventures and escapades. No, I just like to get all addicted to one show and then watch nothing but said show for days or weeks.

I just recently caught up on Lost, a show which gave me a multitude of wonderfully confusing WTF-moments. Still not entirely sure whether I actually like the show or not. Meh.

A show I just recently discovered and could potentially really like: Californication with David Duchovny, the dude from X-files.
Duchonvny plays a superbly cranky, witty, messed-up writer. Some great lines and of course it doesn't hurt that he's easy on the eyes. Haha.

Family First in New Zealand apparently doesn't like the show, which is...hmm...a glowing endorsement in my book...


Sample scenes:

Hank Moody and a women are in bed. He just woke up from a bad dream and makes her laugh with some funny lines....

Woman (laughs): "LOL."
Moody: "What was that?"
W: "Hmm?"
M: "What did you just say? Just now?"
W: "What?"
M: "LOL? Laugh out loud?"
W: "Yea."
M: "That's part of your lexicon? Really? LOL?"
W: "Shouldn't it be part of yours, too? You are writing for cyperspace, you know?"
M: "Oh. And there goes my boner...Wave bye bye..."
W: "What is your issue with LOL?"
M: "I don't have an issue unless you count that fact that every time you say it, you contribute to the death of the English language"
W: "So let me get this straight. You gonna let the fact that I just said LOL get in the way of me giving you the best BJ of your life?"
M: "Not when you put it that way...
(Woman keeps kissing him)
M: "Yea, I'm not the biggest fan of the term BJ either.."

OMG, can I relate. Hehe.

Well, in case you want to watch some more...

Gear! Need More Gear!

I wonder if running/biking/swimming (Or any kind of sport/hobby really) is just another excuse to buy more stuff...

I have enough tech T-shirts, socks, shoes and other assorted equipment, but I could always use more!
Right now, I have my eye on this:
Could sure use it for my next race (whenever that will be)...

Oh and I have NO idea why, but the next big gear purchase will be...yes...a pink bike. Somewhat like this one. With my name on it. Wonderful.

Lest I Forget

It's my fifth (!) day off and the weather has been nothing but wonderful.
It rained once, I think, but then cleared up.

I just wanted to write it down (and post some pix later), because I tend to forget that this country does get some great weather every once in a while, too.

The 10-day-forecast is pretty encouraging, too...
Hooray for spring in Zuid-Holland!

Ride Across State Lines

Yea, that's not so amazing, considering I live somewhat close to the 'border' between Zuid-Holland and Noord-Holland. Still. Cool.

Took off with a 2-hour bike ride in mind, but because the weather was so beautiful and I felt good, ended up going for 5 hours and 20 minutes (Yes, I took a stop watch to get my net-time. Maybe I should get a little bike-computer after all...But those little fuckers make me all competitive and I check my speed all the time, so maybe not...).

Biked along the dunes towards work:

Then I passed Nordwijk, a somewhat run-down resort-type seaside village (Come to think of it, all the smallish seaside places here have this charmingly shabby look and feel to them...).
Apparently, the classiest (?) hotel there is the Palace Hotel, complete with mermaid statue:

Nice looking beach though. But what's with the British flag? Hmm.


Ended up going to Haarlem, the south end of Amsterdam, and then back along Schipol Airport, Leiden and Wassenaar.

Kind of felt like crying when I saw the sign "Den Haag, 50 kilometers" and I was all hungry and thirsty. Hehe. All in all, great ride though. Wonderful weather, too.
Oh, and just for kicks, a windmill:

Sweet Home Chicago

Ten years after I first set foot on blessed U.S. soil (haha), I will finally go back to Illinois.
Chicago, to be exact.

On October 12, 2008, at 8AM, my butt better be in shape, because I'll be lining up with more than 45 000 others to run the Chicago marathon.

Even though I despise crowds, this gets me quite excited:

Merely signing up back in January wasn't enough to get me fired up and running. For some reason, the thought of spending $130 on the registration and then not running the race didn't bother me much. But the ridiculous amount of $$ I had to shell out for the flight and four nights in an overpriced hotel will be doing the trick, I'm certain.

I have no goals other than finishing and having a good time...I've never run further than 15 miles or so = I better get cracking... Cannot wait...

Oh, and for some reason I find this hilarious:

--It’s 1400 miles to Chicago, I got a full tank of glycogen, half a pack of gu, it’s dark and I’m wearing sunglasses.
--Hit it!

Inspired by this video/movie, of course:

Crisis Averted?

So, I NEED peanut butter every day. And Dutch peanut butter blows.
Ergo: Huge problem.

I was faced with this major crisis this AM:

My last jar of (US import) Skippy creamy deliciousness. Empty.

The local grocery store only carries the Dutch brands, and I was too lazy and too cheap to ride to the store that sells Skippy (for luxury drug-level prices, BTW!).

Bought this:
Happy to report that it has passed the first (very careful) taste test...Not great, but acceptable...
So maybe there's hope for me.

But for now, I'm enjoying the last few spoonfuls of the real thing...Yum.