Runnin' Scared

I think I feel confident enough at this point to describe my quest to slap a "26.2" sticker on the Intrepid's ass. I was more than apprehensive at first, but was nonetheless going to do my best... and they say that you never know until you try.

So the Columbus Marathon is about seven weeks out. I've been officially "training" for five and I got my long run for the week out of the way this morning which leaves me with four really long ones to go.

At the end of the run, my front porch was a mess of empty bottles, twisted Gu packs, sunglasses, a nasty hat and an absolutely drenched shirt. I had a 16-mile run the week before and decided that I'd do it in one loop. By mile 8 I was out of fluids and begging for hose water from the security guards at the Ohio State Supreme Court building... and that didn't last long. So I planned ahead for this week's 18-miler. I'd run two 9-mile loops so I could pick up a fresh bottle and choke down some Gu. It worked out much better. Other than nearly getting smooshed by a trucker as I tried to cross 33, I did all right.

So I've made it to my rest week in one piece. But now the real work begins. And what's crazy is, as hard as this marathon is going to be for me, I was reading about a woman that completed a triple Iron Man. Here I thought the regular Iron Man was the pinnacle of human endurance. No, someone had to go and triple it... 7.2 miles in the water, 336 on a bike and then a 78.6-mile run. WHAT!?! Seriously? I would have to use a boat and even then, I might not finish until Christmas. Makes me feel stupid for having such a rough go of it.

223 Words... the Real Story

So Bradley sends a picture out and people voluntarily send back a story pertaining to said picture using 110 words or less... I think. Maybe it's a class of some kind. I'm going to do my best to butcher it:

Her favorite coffee cup was full. It would be her only company for the night so each sip was made with careful precision and patience. It's nearly September of an election year and as the phone rings, she wonders which candidate is on the other end hoping she'll remember to register before October. She answers it regardless.

"Hello. This is Barack Obama asking that you'll join me in an effort to redefine this country and what she stands for. Register by October 13 so you too can be the difference America needs. Thank you."

She didn't remember when she'd first heard why America had to be a woman. Maybe it was because rich white men preferred the idea of women when it came to matters of manipulation and pillaging. She was never this bitter. It's not in her genes. Maybe it's work. Maybe school. Maybe him. She makes her way to the couch but turns quickly in the direction of the back door hoping to catch the light falling on brown hair and smiles when an open hand joins the face in the window. This won't be the last time he has to sleep on the back porch and that's unfortunate. She should be stronger. He shouldn't have to fend off raccoons. But this is a game that neither will quit.

Beat This

I boiled eggs this morning... four of them. I only ate two.

What did you ever do?

Thrifty Nifty

This one goes out to my Grandpa Alberts... a man far beyond his time. You might say, "How can someone be so disrespectful as to dedicate a plastic peanut butter jar full of Cheez-Its to his late grandpa?" Well, let me tell you...

My grandpa was not one to waste anything. Everything had a place, a purpose. I'd like to think that the compartmentalized environment I prefer is due, in part, to him. Now, I can't take credit away from his daughter... my mom, as she too prefers the comforts of an organized cabinet, but she lacks the real grit it takes to reuse a plastic bag used to house bread. And I'm not saying that I have acquired that grit, but I do feel as though he'd be proud of this number. It's a used peanut butter jar that holds my chips I take to work. It's a perfect for my preferred portions and its contents aren't crushed en route. I'll use it until it's lost or until someone unknowingly throws it away.

And that will be unfortunate. I'm often quick to throw things in the garbage or in the recycling (which I can't say I trust too much) without thinking of ways that could give said trash a second life. But we've done this to ourselves. Everything is so specialized that no one thinks of second uses... and all the while, we create more waste. My grandpa had it right. It's not enough to simply recycle when we can, when it's convenient. We have to rethink the way we use things.

Pajama Party

Lauren spent the night Friday. My brother skipped town and Leslie needed a night out with friends so I got the baby for the night.

She took it easy on me for sure. She was remarkably good... better than six month old babies should be. She went to bed at 9-ish and didn't make a peep until 7 or so. The only time she cried was when I attempted to put some clothes on her after a bottle. Babies don't like to lay on their backs with full stomachs... or maybe it's just this one. I can't say I have enough experience to make such a generalized statement.

We watched the Olympics and then cartoons and played with toys and wiped up slobber constantly. She even helped with the laundry so she's welcome back anytime... and I hope it's sooner rather than later. I worked on some leg strengthening drills with her. There's no way she's going to be outside hitter for Team USA if she starts at three. It has to be now. This is when champions are made.

New Digs

The move is official. I was in the new space for part of last week. It's smaller, stuffier and it has zero running water. Yeah, that and the connection speed is worse than dial-up... at the moment. On the upside, it's a cooler looking building and it's close to home. I'm still not sure if that last point is a good thing or a bad thing. It doesn't really feel like I'm going to work anymore. I don't like the fact that I could ride my bike home for lunch. It's not far enough removed... but it still beats working from home.

Ode to TNT

Side note: I was reading Bradley's blog today and thus convinced myself that I, too, needed a customized masthead.

Back to business... my dad turned 62 yesterday. At 62, he's a better golfer, driver, prankster, mechanic, euchre player, procrastinator, person, friend and dad than I might ever be. I'm almost positive that he can outrun me in a 100m dash... and I'd let him prove it if it weren't a certainty that it'd be his last, because he's already told that he'd win if it was the last thing he did. This is also the guy that apologized to me for naming me Jason. He said that it wasn't very professional and thinks that's why I'm a graphic designer instead of Bill Gates.

Here's to you TNT. Retire already.

Taking a Dip for Jesus

My niece, Lauren, was baptized Sunday in Minster. She was baptized alongside her two cousins, Austin and Jake. My sister-in-law, Leslie, and her two sisters each had babies within about four months of each other and they did a group baptism... a clan cleansing of sorts.

I had the distinct honor of being Lauren's godfather. It was a great day... beautiful weather with lots of family. Photo credits go to my sister. She does better than I do.

Her initial reaction to the water on the head was, of course, a funny one... but she regrouped and pulled through with nary a peep.

Big Bear Blue Skies

It's been so farkin' hot lately that today was welcomed relief. I don't do well in muggy weather. I sweat just thinking about it. I'd rather be wrapped up in a sweater than the hot, humid air.

So I took the long way home tonight. I first went south on the bike path. I could've and should've taken it farther, but I was hungry. I still thought I'd try and find a better route into Grandview. I hate heading straight up the wind tunnel that is 3rd Avenue with cars giving you hell the whole time because they're so far removed from actually using their own energy for transportation that they consider you to be in the way. Turns out there really isn't a better way home. Doesn't matter. The place where I rent an office is moving next week and I'm tagging along. It's literally down the street from me. I'm not sure how I feel about it as it takes almost four miles out of my commute. I'll miss the river. No more bus either. It's the bike or the car for me.

All good things must come to an end. Big Bear's warehouses are being torn down to make way for some fancy mixed-use mega-condo thing. Recent graduates from around the state will flock. Goodbye Big Bear... hello Big... eh... something.

Chariots of Fire

Over a dinner of delicious sandwiches at Habits Café last week, "barging" was brought up. I didn't know what it was up until that point and I'm not so sure that's the correct term, but I'm going to stick with it due to its ease of use. The idea, compliments of Bradley, was to hop on one or another of the hundreds of vacant barges on the mighty Ohio and set sail. Set up tents for shelter, but otherwise enjoy the wide open beauty of river life. Go for a swim, cast in a line, get a tan... whatever you fancy. At the end of the trip, we ghost ride it into the Gulf, swim to shore and go our separate ways.

On the way to work this morning, I came across the Poseidons. Twin barges tethered together and tied to the shore. Not sure when they got there, but it's been within the last 24 hours. Regardless, it's a sign. Brad, if you're out there, our chariot awaits. We'll pick up other thrill seekers on our way down the Scioto en route to the Ohio. Time to get this party started.