Making Mounts of Molehills

From certain angles, Mount Adams looks tiny... and then you try and drive all up in that piece and you'd be shocked how easy it is for that seemingly little hill to spit you out, defeated. It's almost unattainable at times. It took me several years to get the hang of it and even now, a higher level of concentration is required when navigating its streets.

My sister recently had a surprise 30th birthday party on the main drag and I had a lost aunt and uncle on my phone needing directions. Think about it for a second or two and see if you could give someone directions up to the corner Saint Gregory and Pavilion without Google maps in front of you. But the trick to Mount Adams is to always go up. So long as you're always heading uphill, you'll eventually find what you're looking for.

The holidays have officially snuck up on me again. Procrastination has made this seemingly joyous time a little more stressful. I doubt I'll ever truly be on top of things when it comes to Christmas... no more than I'll ever be able to rearrange the streets of Mount Adams... but this year, I'm going to keep looking up and maybe, just maybe, I'll find what I'm looking for.

But before it gets too crazy, the Envoi crew is headed out tonight for our annual holiday dinner. This year we're celebrating at The Rookwood Restaurant and we'll hopefully get seated in one of the old kilns they used to fire the now famous, Rookwood Pottery. The building is actually sitting right atop that snow-covered hill you see in front of you... with Holy Cross to the left and some apartment building on the right.

So here's to the hope that everyone finds what they're looking for this holiday season.

Shoes and Stalactites

Can any two individuals agree on everything? Maybe some can. I can't. With anything or anybody. Nothing. If a conversation is initiated, I switch to auto-disagreement. At the end of the day, it terrible... and I regret it, but I'm working on it and may just get it right.

That particular aspect of disagreement is something I can help. Something I can't help is my taste in style... or as some might say... lack thereof. My days of purchasing several pair of shoes a year are long gone. I've grown out of my impulsive spending habits so when making a purchase, I think long and hard about it. I came across these shoes a few months ago and wanted them bad. The more they resemble the result of a bowling shoe's affair with a house slipper, the better. I had owned a pair similar to this a long time ago and have been looking for their replacements after they wore out two or three years ago. The problem was they didn't have my size. Seven years ago, I would've bought them anyways, but I was able to, albeit reluctantly, walk away.

There was also something else holding me back. Erica hated them. She hated the shoes prior to this pair as well and fought long and hard to see that they were retired somewhat prematurely.

I'm not fashion-forward by any stretch. Actually, just the opposite. When I find something I like, I latch onto it with a death grip and wear the hell out of it. Sure, I've had my phases. I don't mind slipping on the skinny jeans, but they better have cowboy boots at the end of them. Boot cut jeans were my true savior. Full-length zip turtleneck sweatshirts... I'd be stuck with hoodies if it weren't for you. Athletic fit t-shirts... what took you so long? That red and beige belt I own? Other than when wearing a suit, I've worn it everyday for the last six and a half years.

This is why Erica's disdain of my true taste in shoes is so disheartening. I have nowhere else to turn. I found solace in the trail running shoe/jean combo for a while, but I knew it wouldn't last. So when we were out Christmas shopping last Saturday and swung in to DSW to "look around"... I knew what I was after. And there they were, sitting pretty. Not only that, they were in my size! OMG!

But I knew it would only be half the battle. Luckily, the day's hustle and bustle had worn down my wife's guard. She wasn't on her A game and I quickly stormed the gates and got the answer I was looking for... "Get them if you really want them." Of course, that statement is laced with all sorts of "but you'll never wear them in my presence" innuendos, but that's okay. I own them now. Not only that, I got them for over 60% off because of a couple coupons and an awesome cashier. What a victory.

In the end, they're just shoes. Not that big of a deal.

Recently I read where a scientist believes the aging process is simply the long term effect of millions of tiny accidents your body goes through in a lifetime. Bumps, dings, scrapes that may go unnoticed to us but over time, deteriorate our vessels to the point of failure. Stalactites and stalagmites work just the opposite. Millions upon millions of water drops only build them up... bringing them closer together.

I suppose little battles in a marriage can work either way. I, personally, find it endearing that Erica cares that much about what I look like. Better to care too much, than not at all. I think, too, our differences in style have helped curb any reactionary purchases that, in that past, I was very guilty of. And I'm sure she gets a kick out of rolling her eyes and laughing at me most Saturday nights before we head out... only to have me head back to the dresser in an attempt to make her smile. After all, agreement can't always be such an easy term to come to... how boring would that be?

Ronnie Time

It may be cold outside, but Ronald is keeping it hot with these shades. Who knows where he got them but they're pretty great.

You Decide

Tape measure or a contractor's laser pointer? Answer... both.

And Away We Go

The time had come. It couldn't be put off any longer. We talked about it, put tape on the floor, drew sketches, got a 3D model of what it would look like courtesy of Lowes and even purchased cabinets. The wall between the kitchen and the dining room was coming out. It was the next step. Had to be.

I was awake and working Saturday morning long before the alarm I set had its chance to wedge me out of bed. Erica's dad was coming over mid-morning and I had to get everything out of the kitchen and at least make it look like I had kind of started to tear things apart. He arrived and we immediately got to work taking out the cabinets, pulling trim and ripping out the floor. Day 1 actually went really well. I managed to walk away with a just one sliced finger. Just an FYI, broken tile is crazy sharp and won't think twice about cutting you deep.

Then came Day 2. Don wouldn't be around for Day 2. It was up to me and my buddy, Steve. He brought some tools and all we had to do was knock out one side of the wall and tear down the soffit. These tasks were somehow remarkably harder without the help of the gritty veteran. Not only harder, but messier. In our defense, we were dealing with some incredibly stubborn building material that we didn't have to deal with the day prior. Metal lathe in a plaster wall is beyond the realm of difficult to extract once applied and allowed to sit for 50 years. It borders on impossible. And I can't tell you how many times I missed the chisel with my hammer and instead hit the knuckle of my index finger.

But it's out now and that's all that matters. The studs were left in because they house some electric wires that I don't intend on contending with. And honestly, they toed those bad boys in with the biggest nails I've ever seen. After taking a few out, I was willing to leave well enough alone to see another day or two.

What did I learn? a) Sissies wear gloves when doing demo. Hence, I'm a sissy. b) When employing one of those 25lb crow bars, always know where the other end is. I was trying to pry a particularly staunch nail out of a 2x4 above my head and upon giving it one last yank, I damn near ripped my right ear off when the other end came crashing into it. Gave myself a good gash though and I'm having trouble feeling the entire right side of my head. c) That wall that we just spent a weekend tearing out wasn't original to the house. Someone actually wanted it there. Makes me want to see what it had looked like when it was first built. d) When your pregnant wife tells you that she won't have your child without a dishwasher in the house, just put in the dishwasher. There is no need to knock out walls and knock off ears, simply install a dishwasher and get back to admiring your freshly-built bench. But then again, it could prove to be a great arguing point sometime down the road... "I tore out a kitchen for you when I didn't even know your name."

Yeah, the larger point here is we're going to be parents. That makes us nervous. Mostly nervous that we're not ready to be parents and therefore we would be, by default, bad parents. So we join the ranks of every nervous soon-to-be mother and father in recorded history. It's nice to know we're not alone.

But it seems a waste of energy to be nervous and/or apprehensive. Kind of like that kitchen demo. I didn't know what I was doing at all. Several times a day, I would look at the still intact wall and wonder just how in the hell I was going to get that thing down without electrocuting, maiming or otherwise hurting myself or the house... and yet, there that wall sits, in many many pieces on my driveway waiting to be hauled to a dump (hopefully for a reasonable price). This is happening, whether I'm nervous about it or not and when it does, we'll do what needs to be done in order to be the best parents that we know how to be. Consider this a soft opening. Baby bump pictures (if I can get away with it) and possibly an ultrasound to follow.

Benched

We moved into our house in May. Since then, I've quietly gone about finding possible solutions to my tool storage conundrum. We have a nice bench in the attached garage that the original owner put in but Erica likes parking her car there and the bench itself would need some upgrades. We have a detached garage but it doesn't have any electric so I'd have to get an electrician to run an extra line from my box, out of the house, under the driveway and back to the garage. And even if I did get it back there, I'd still be cold in the winter.

A couple of weeks ago, I was hanging some sweaty clothes downstairs and the thought of a bench in a nook of the foundation hit me like the pungent smell of dirty running shorts... and that was all it took. I drew up a little sketch, bought the wood and began assembling my very first work bench.

It's exactly what I needed because I built it. I'm a taller guy that's always wanted a desk I could stand at while working so I made the height 47". I acknowledged that I'd probably need an area just a little bit lower for a vice grip or some other yet unknown task, so I put that in, too. All that's left to do is put a 1x4 face on it and secure some of those 2x4's to the wall.

It came in handy over the weekend when I tore the kitchen out. I had everything organized and easy to get to in one localized space. And that circular saw is just for effect. Totally not mine.

FUOH

(Sorry, forgot to warn folks there'd be cursing in the post below. It's belated, but you've been warned. Also, Brad shared this link with me this morning. Slightly heavy-handed at the end, but read and re-read each bullet.)

In college, Erica and her friend, Tommy, had a saying... Pave Canada. I have no idea the context in which it was used but I like it. It's funny and I wish it were mine. But it's not.

I found this article whilst perusing the Enquirer's site. That saying came to mind except more along the lines of Pave Ohio. Just do it already. And when you do pave it, use the same techniques you've been using. Make it half as thick as German highways so you are constantly resurfacing. That'll create jobs. This Kasich guy is on to something. What an asshole.

On a side note but not completely unrelated, Boehner said something about how the "people have spoken" or something along those lines. What's funny about that is Ohio had less than 50% voter turnout (48.7%). Traditionally, Republicans have fared best when voter turnout is low which means "the people" or "the republic" to which he's referring didn't really speak. And that's unfortunate.

One last thought but, again, not completely unrelated... if I took eight years to totally fuck something up, I'd at least give the next guy eight to fix it. Common courtesy, right? Where were all you tea baggers when we started two wars AND cut taxes? That doesn't strike me as being fiscally responsible.

Go To Glenwood

I was told about a little piece of herbal Eden when I first returned to Cincinnati back in March by a co-worker that frequents a lot of the Hamilton County (and beyond) Parks, weather permitting. I really do have to commend the park board of Hamilton County for doing a remarkable job in the face of a conservative sentiment. And, by no means, are these vast tracts of wilderness, but for Cincinnati, it's pretty good.

One such lot of land is Glenwood Gardens. I've run there a couple times on the crushed gravel path that meanders up and around the west fork of the Mill Creek and then finally finds its way back to the open field where it began. All in all, it's a little over two miles but it's a great getaway from my regular Simpson Loop.

So I took Erica there on Sunday to enjoy the day. We took our time taking in the sun. It just might be some of the last warming rays we get for a while. They also have a pretty rockin' playground if you've got some kids in tow.

Halloween was a resounding success on Wittekind. Erica has looked forward to handing out candy for years only to be let down time after time by a poor turnout. She was not to be denied in the C.Hill. We purchased 263 pieces of candy and somehow ran out. Accounting for a couple of taste tests and double dippers, we probably had 250 trick-or-treat'rs that night. It was a lot of fun to see the kids. Brought back good memories of our days on Nicklin.

Tyler's Three-Point Promise

I run. Maybe I've mentioned it... a million times. My biggest pet peeve while running? Suck-ass drivers... drivers that aren't good at driving. Why should they be? If something happens, it's an "accident". I wish we could do away with that term and start teaching young drivers just how dangerous a motor vehicle can be. How quickly and swiftly they can do damage. Oh, and reiterate to them that pedestrians actually have the right-of-way. I know it sounds absurd, but it's true. On the books. For real.

I could go into even more detail about how I really feel about drivers, cars, our infrastructure, but I want to point out the worst offense that the majority of drivers (myself included) are, or have been, guilty of.

Without all the dramatics, I can tell you that not looking right when turning right is about as dangerous as driving gets. The practice includes rolling through a crosswalk – and if there is no car coming from the left – the stop sign entirely and not giving one glance to the right until the turn has already been made. I wish I had a dollar for every time this has happened on a run. It would pay for my lunch. Some folks never see me at all. Some slam on their brakes, mouthing their apology. Others get pissed and wonder what I'm doing in their way.

This is where my "Three-Point Promise" comes in. Like I said, I've been guilty of the same irresponsible tactics, so I've employed a method that allows me to fully know what's going on at every intersection I come to. The above image illustrates the process, starting at the top.

Step 1 (by far, the most important): No matter which direction you're turning, always look to the right first as you're approaching an intersection. Even if it's just a glance.

Step 2: Look left.

Step 3: Look right once more.

And that sums it up. If you're turning left, you'll obviously take a final look in the direction you're turning. It takes an additional second, maybe two, but it could mean the difference in avoiding a very dangerous interaction with a pedestrian.

Doldrums

All this absence is killing me. I've attributed the lull to my inability to get moving 15 minutes earlier, which would allow me to take the bus and see things, document things and exhibit such things. Not only that but every time I think I've got a green light to employ the 17, I realize that I have to drive a car that day. I loathe that feeling. I had it this morning. Sitting there, icing my right hip with a bag of frozen peas, minding my business. Knowing I had plenty of time to boil water for a lukewarm bath, pour the remainder of the coffee from the pot and take the high road to the corner of North Bend and Hamilton where I would be whisked away without a care in the world.

Boiling waters? Lukewarm baths?

Yep, our water heater is busted. So it was then that I realized the plumber was coming some time between noon and 1pm to take a look at our bum tank and bus'ing it wouldn't have made anyone but me happy.

So all you get is some shots I've had to take for work. It's the Iris Bookcafé across the street. They provide me with a daily afternoon jolt of caffeine. In turn, we'll provide them with a website and some photography.

So if you want to see pretty pictures, go here.

Bad Idea

I parked behind this car today. Scary to think that this thing might be traveling at a high rate of speed on a highway near me... or you. I almost feel compelled to leave a note. That's a bad accident waiting to happen.

On a side note:

2.52

In the regular season, if a pitching staff averaged that ERA for every series you played, you'd be the most dominant pitching team in baseball. Only three NL starters had a lower ERA in 2010. Now, if you took that team ERA into the postseason, you'd think to fare just as well. Ahh, not so. That's was the Reds' ERA for the NLDS against the Phillies. They got swept. Why? Because their own batting average was .124. That and they committed seven errors.

Yeah, I know I said a while ago that I'd be content with just making it to the postseason... but those three games hurt. Some blame it on a lack of experience. I blame it on a lack of heart... or, dare I say, tread, grit, balls, fight, etc etc.

p.s. – This is a perfect example of why The Thirty Year Mistake GABP's placement and ownership doomed this city. I have no qualms with criticism like this. In fact, I agree with it. But Cincinnati will rally and tell that reporter what's up... all the while, turning a blind eye to the obvious symptoms of mediocre leadership.

Sir Smoke

It's not often that I pity fools... BUT... I would honestly pity the fool that crossed paths with this dog. His name is Smoke and the last thing he takes is lip. The first? Your lunch.

Needless to say, Beware of Dog.

Unequal Parts

Replacing front brakes without the T-Man = this. Replacing back brakes in Piqua with the T-Man and his burgeoning arsenal of tools = two easy breezy hours and nary a drop of sweat adorning either of our brows. What a difference a lot of help makes.

Such is the case in life... not just brakes. More than once yesterday, I thought to myself that I'd be one lost puppy if not for the guidance of multiple individuals. I wish I could remember that when I'm making snap judgments of someone.

Anyways, enough of that. Friday night played witness to one of the most epic nights in ping pong history. Ole Gordy came down and we made our way to GABP for a the first game in the Reds' final series of the year against the Brewers. It was a frustrating loss in extras so we made our way to Covington to a bar called the Down Under. Rumor has it that there are some mean games of pong played in the back room past the bar. We found it without trouble and after waiting our turn played for the better part of three hours and almost 20 games. When the smoke had cleared and the paddles dropped, yours truly had El Capitan by a game. Could the feat be repeated? Maybe. Maybe not. I'm anxious to find out and I'm sure Gordonéz is as well. He likes losing about as much as I do.

But I was up bright and early for a 5K Walk for mental illness in Hamilton. Something Erica had to be a part of for work. It was a nice morning for a walk and we ended up having a good time. Then it was off to Piqua to watch my two nieces while everyone else went out and partied. It was worth it. Those girls... too cute.

Then it was up early again so I could make it in plenty of time to the Oktoberfest 10K in Minster. This was year number three and while I was hoping for a PR, I knew in the back of my head that the summer didn't help matters. Not only that, but I was seven pounds heavier than last year and I wasn't putting up big weekly mileage numbers like I had been when preparing for Columbus '09. My premonitions were confirmed when I hit the track earlier that week and had a pretty tough workout when it shouldn't have been all that hard. Sooo... with that in mind, I took it easy in the opening miles and that cost me in the end. Not sure if I could've mustered a faster finish or not. Hard to say. I was working hard but there came a point at Mile 5.5 when I wanted to make a move and keep up with a couple of runners that had passed me at Mile 5 as well as keep distance on a fast-closing group behind me. I made the move and found that I had another gear left. Ended up pulling away from all of them. "Where did that come from?," I wondered. Didn't add up. I should've been spent. Makes me a little peeved that I probably left a whole lot out there. Final tally was a 40:14.

Then it was back to Piqua and a nap before tackling the brakes and making the drive home. Whew... I could use another nap. Compliments to Erica for taking the pics while our hands were full o' grease. Also, in addendum to the last post, Bradley's endeavor made cincinnati.com. See for yourself.

Movie Makin'

Sunday, I helped Brad for a couple of hours set up for a movie he was about to start shooting this week (this was the only shot I could get before my battery putzed out). Presumably, he's been busy doing just that because I haven't heard from him... at all. He's also my iChat buddy and rarely does a day go by without some suuuper-witty dialogue exchange.

Simon, or possibly Garfunkel, said it best... Where have ya gone Joe Dimaggio?

Godspeed friendo. Looking forward to seeing the finished product.

Dig Deep

It's been a while. I'm lazy. That's a lie. We've been cranking away at work and I've kept busy on the side so it's been non-stop which has its perks but is mostly bad for my brain. Makes it mush. But like any storm, it has moved on and calmer seas prevail which allows me to devote a little free time to such exploits as... oh... making fun of old photos.

Brad and Leah – Breah – came over for an impromptu pot o' chili some weeks ago and Leah had come across some pics of days gone by and wanted to share. The pictures are nice to look at just as they are if simply to illustrate how we've changed over the years. But to me, they tell a thousand stories.

For instance, the flag that Brad is holding and how it came into our possession revolves around picking up a friend in Cleveland, forgetting to shut the door of the UHaul trailer we were towing until a frenzied group in an SUV honked at us until we pulled over and realized our mistake. While pulled over, I found that very flag on the side of the road and stuck it in the latch of the trailer bound for Boston. It was just a couple of weeks after 9/11 and we got more than a couple of honks and "thumbs-ups" from fellow travelers on I-90.

And those outfits? It was Halloween, of course, so we had made a trip to the thrift store that morning and picked up whatever we could find. I have no idea what Brad and Elliott (blue coat) are supposed to be... other than themselves, but I do know I was Dean Witter and we all got really drunk at Elliott's co-worker's apartment in Back Bay. I also know that I wanted to fight Brad over boneless spare ribs from Nan Ling. Yes, I was that drunk and yes, they were that good.

That couch in the very same picture. It's got a pullout mattress in it. We found it on the way back from the grocery store. Hauled it several blocks and up three flights of stairs. My back has never been the same. And what were we honestly doing drinking Red Dog beer? Do they even make that stuff anymore.

The top photo was from our first rented house in Cincinnati on Stratford Avenue. That's Bradley and Nate Williams. I'm not really even sure why this picture was taken, but I grew up with that couch they're sitting on. It belonged to my grandparents, then to my aunt, then to me. It was terribly uncomfortable but was a journeyman and served us well. Everyone else still makes fun of it and its wire frame that jabbed you if you sat on it wrong, but I see that picture and then, inevitably, see so much more.

Oh, those stories could go on and on and in some ways, they still do.

200

Whoa! That's a lot of life lived in dem dere squares (I'm only showing 101-200 as 200 squares wouldn't fit into the grid well and the images would be even more indistinguishable). This is actually my 201st post but who's really counting? Well, I am.

I won't go on about what's ahead and what's behind. I can't see into the future and who has time for regrets? I'll just keep doing what I've been doing. Sound fair? Good.

I have made a small, yet deliberate, decision to concentrate some efforts on specific locales for the time being. Whether I follow through with it is yet to be determined.

Moon Over GABP

Got the opportunity to hit up a Reds game last Tuesday night. We've been to a few over the course of the year. Erica had a prior commitment so it ended up being me, my sister, my friend, Steve and his friend, Mike. For as many times as I've been to The Thirty Year Mistake GABP over the years, I've only sat in a handful of locales... none of which were in the Moon Deck. I don't think I'll be sitting anywhere else from here on out... unless they're free. Proof is in the picture. This was the picture I would paint listening to the Reds on 700 WLW in our garage on summer nights. Even then they would leave everyone on base.

While in those pretty little seats, Scott Rolen hit a bloop single that looked headed for shallow right center until my large noggin's gravity nearly pulled it out of the park and into my awaiting hands. Ended up going off the wall for a double. They need me in those seats. We also saw Harang pitch and somehow only give up one earned run. Let's just say we saw Labor Day's beating coming.

Speaking of last Tuesday... what a difference a week makes. Can we beat a team that has a record over .500? Does anyone really want to win the NL Central?

Norris 2K+10

The annual houseboat (the term is used loosely anymore) has once again come and gone. This has always been a particularly hard trip to come home from. It often marks the end of summer get-togethers and lazy days spent in the sun with friends. You realize it might be another year before you see some of this group which only makes you miss the ones that couldn't make it even more. It's unfortunate, but such is life.

There were three couples, a brother and two babies that rounded out the group. Erica and I never had a problem with sleeping in, but apparently others weren't as fortunate. I guess six-month-olds don't sleep past 5:30 or 6:00 in the morning. They don't drive boats well either. Slouches. Get a job!

I will tell you one thing that was confirmed while taking this trip... vacations are harder than all hell to take. It. Was. Impossible. To get out of here Friday which, in turn, made us hit the stupidest traffic one might hope to miss. I-75 is a hole. I've said it before and I mean it... they should start over. It's not working. It's the perfect example of why there needs to be transportation reform. You can add additional lanes all you want, but until you take the human factor out of it, there will still be X number of lanes to the right filled haphazardly with cars and trucks going roughly the same speed and a left lane with a line of X number of cars lined up behind someone trying to pass the mass of floating debris that makes up all the lanes to the right. It's impossibly confounding to me how we stubbornly trudge ahead as if this is our future.

Whew.

Anyway... the trip was great. There's nothing quite like flying around a lake on a boat, laying your head back and feeling the warm sun on your wind-whipped face.

Prevailing Winds

Judging from the sweat puddle under my post-run chair, summer isn't going anywhere fast. But each cold front has been stronger than the last. There is a change in the winds... we can beat this. We will beat this.

Before/After... Part Deux

This will probably be the last of these... at least until the second floor bathroom gets put in. I mentioned that we had a pretty busy week getting ready for my grandma's 90th birthday party and all that hard work paid off. Still lots of little things to do but the images show where it had been (some of which you already saw) and what actually feels like livable space now. For a long time, we were in a weird transition space where progress seemed to actually move backward but now the list keeps getting shorter and the house keeps looking better.

Whitewater

This rave run has been a long time coming and because of that, I apologize profusely to the Miami Whitewater Forest Board of Trustees... if there is such a thing. So, without further ado... I give you Miami Whitewater.

I got a bit of a late start this morning. The coffee was tasty and the air was chilled to perfection. The sun was high in the sky by the time I hit the beautiful asphalt trail that runs through the park situated off of the Dry Fork Rd exit on I-74 just before you get to Indiana.

There is an inner loop (1.68mi) and an outer loop (7.85mi). I hit the inner loop for a warm-up lap and then took it to the outer loop for what ended up being a marathon-paced run. The shin felt good and the air was cool, albeit humid, so I kept those middle 7.5 miles pretty low. I finished with another inner loop that was even faster to put me over 10 miles for the day... 10.41mi to be exact. I would like to start bumping up those long runs but I don't want to re-aggravate the left leg, so I'll continue where I am until I can easily put three days in a row together. I'm still getting in 30-35 miles a week and the Monumental half-marathon is still a ways off, so I've got time. But I digress.

What sets this trail apart from others in Cincinnati is the terrain. It's relatively flat (only 80' difference in elevation along the route) and that's not easy to find 'round here. It's certainly a welcome break from the larger rollers in College Hill. The path is very rural, too. It begins with a wooded section that runs along the Whitewater River I call the lowlands. There are a lot of wild turkey in here and I also have an owl friend that sets up shop along the same tree line each morning. You then make your way up into the highlands passing corn and soybean fields along the way. There are some decent elevation changes in this section as you head into the wetlands. This is where all the birds are. I have to assume that Miami Whitewater is a bird-watching bonanza. The high grasses and wildflowers make it ideal for them to do the stuff that birds do. It's the only place I've ever seen a real live blue bird. From there, you begin your descent to the river before a final climb to the visitor's center. The inner loop is nice because it allows you to tack on extra mileage when needed.

All in all, a great running trail. Not many walkers venture onto the outer loop so you can really let loose and put in some good miles... much like this morning. It's just nice to not have to worry about cars, lights and crap ass roads. You get out and go. And that bottom picture just became my favorite running photo of all time.

Numero 90

We hosted my grandma's 90th birthday party Sunday. It also happened to be Erica and I's very first wedding anniversary. We got back from vacation and quickly realized there was a lot (insert understatement) to get done. So what did we do? I made a list. Then what did we do? Got off our asses. Long story short, we accomplished more in 48 hours than we had in a month. We worked hard, got lucky in some cases and in the end celebrated with some family. I learned one thing and confirmed two others over the course of last week. One... lists help me organize my thoughts and there is nothing as satisfying as wiping to-do items off them. Two... I procrastinate. And finally, I learned that screwing down hinges is like David vs. Goliath. The tiny hinges with their 48 tiny screws wait to be fit snugly to the top of a window seat. Oh, that's what you'd like to think. Really, they have no intention of making the process so easy. It would be pointless to go into detail, but I'll just say that at 2am on Sunday morning I was ready to take a hatchet to those hinges.

I can't say enough about Clarabel Eleyet Alberts... and anyways, she wouldn't want me to. For me, she defines a generation; hard-working, humble, courteous, resourceful, respectful. The adjectives could go on and on. She proves to me that technology, after all these years has given us one useful thing; the ability to get to one another faster. She proves to me that it's better to sit on the front porch and talk than to watch TV in silence.

So we had a party for her in our TV-less house and no one seemed to notice... except when Joey Votto hit in two runs against LA in the top of the ninth inning. We tossed some bags full of corn, drank some beer, ate some cake, played with the kids and had a great day.

Happy Birthday, Grandma Alberts.

Pure Tim Allen

Tim Allen's right about all the "pure waters" and "endless coastline." We once again took the trip north for our summer reprieve from the hustle and bustle of everyday life.

We celebrated Erica's 29th, spent three days in Ludington along Lake Michigan and then an additional five days in Alden, located on the southeast coast of Torch Lake.

This Torch Lake place was something else. The water is Caribbean-blue and the entire south end is a sand bar, ranging anywhere from two to four feet deep. On a kayak trip, we walked out a quarter of a mile in water up to our waists. Nutso. Apparently locals and tourists, alike, have found it a convenient location to set up shop and party hard on popular summer weekends. The water was just unbelievably clear. On that same kayak trip, it was hard to tell whether you were in 10' or 40' of water... the only difference was the color. The place we stayed was a nice little B&B two blocks from the water.

There wasn't a lack of heat & humidity, unfortunately, but it was nice to have a beautiful lake to step into and cool off in after a run. So that was about it. A relaxing getaway that was tough to come home from.

Training Day

Last Thursday was just one of those days. I began a post that was never completed. I had a corresponding image (top) and everything. This is how it began: 

It's been my experience that when it rains, it pours. When you start your day off on the wrong foot, watch out, it will only get worse. Today is one of those days for me.

It really started last night around 6pm. I attempted a run right after a work. A mid-week long run of about ten miles or whatever I could pull off in an hour and twenty minutes. That run was hell. My legs might as well have been attached to my 90 year-old grandma because that's what they felt like. It didn't help that it was 90º with a heat index of a million... combine that with my geriatric legs and you have someone running behind, which put me in a bind in other areas of my life (mostly domestic).

Got to bed at a decent hour, woke up and the coffee was ready to go. Left shin felt o.k. so I was thinking of running for about 40 minutes and finishing up at the track with four sets of 800m or thereabouts. Didn't even make it up the street.

I never got to the part about forgetting to shut my thermos completely and having all of my coffee spilling out onto the contents of my lunch and eventually down my white shirt. I definitely forgot the part about having to work late in order to hit a crazy deadline... or finding out that my "chisel through the window" accident wasn't going to be cheap.

All I know is that I'm glad I didn't post it. Bad days are like farts in the wind. Yeah, they stink... but eventually they go away and give you something to laugh about later.

I wandered around today looking for a specific photo for a specific job. I've always liked this particular spot in Cincinnati. I think of it as the great divide between two very different trains (no pun intended) of thought. Looking south down ye ole Mill Creek and one of the biggest railroad transfer stations in country. The skyline off to the left, Kentucky on the horizon and the western hills to the right.

The first shot was from Ryan's wedding weekend. It was taken from the third floor in the Natural History Museum and overlooked Central Park with the buildings of 5th Avenue in view.

Chair Bears

My homeboy, Brad, came downtown the other day looking for chairs. Chairs that might inspire one to... oh... make a movie. I wanted in on some of these chairs so I met him down at Elgin furniture. Just a couple blocks from Envoi.

For years I've been wondering just how they've managed to stay open. After some time was spent browsing the first floor showroom, we took it to the next level. Actually, it was the fifth level we took it to and that's when I realized they weren't in business at all. They were a homeless shelter... for chairs. An entire floor of an old warehouse devoted to office chairs. Stacked, piled and strewn about.

The stifling heat aside, it was an interesting trip to a place I've never been. I would simply suggest you go when the weather's a bit more hospitable. I bet it was 110º up there.

Holy Humidity

I tried my best to make a sweat angel today. Had I not wrung the 15 cups of perspiration out of my shirt beforehand, it would've been a huge success.

The nineties show no sign up letting up and neither does the humidity. I can't say I'm holding up well at all. If I've learned one thing from this summer, it's that I'm a cold weather runner... and stubborn. I recognize that this stuff is bogging me down but I refuse to cut it back a notch.

I paid for it recently when I tried to get in a long run on a particularly hot and humid Thursday morning. I pushed it way too hard and then ran a hilly race that following Saturday in the heat. That little combo left me with a pain in the shin/calf area that I'm still trying to figure out and self medicate.

We leave for Michigan in a little over two weeks and I can't tell you how much I'm looking forward to 1) not staring at an iMac for hours on end, 2) hanging with the misses and 3) running in that beautiful weather. I've waited two weeks for a break in the weather. I've waited long enough. I'm making the break instead.

Brake Check

My weekend sucked. How 'bout yours?

It was written in the stars that we would hit it hard this weekend and get a bunch of that lingering crap done so we'd let it linger no more. These past couple of months have been a bear. If we're not working on the house then we're running around. There hasn't been much down time in my life. I'm pretty sure Erica doesn't do down time... bad for me. So I wasn't necessarily looking forward to it but saw its place in the overall scheme of things.

One of the projects I had on my plate was to change Erica's front pads and rotors. They wanted to charge her $450 at the VW dealership. No thank you, sir... I'll go this alone. Projects like this are always hard for me to start because I'm just not entirely sure how they'll end up. I'm no mechanic but I'm not willing to spend that kind of money on something I know is doable. It took me the better part of six hours and three separate trips to AutoZone but it's done and I saved us almost $400. I lost my weight in sweat but it was worth it. My supervisor even came out towards the end of the day to keep my company and lend a hand when needed.

In all, it was a productive weekend. The stop board and quarter-round is nailed which meant I got to use a miter box and nail gun for the first time. Pretty rad equipment. The painting, aside from the touching-up, is done. The grass is mowed and trimmed.

Next up are the ceiling fans and blinds. Putting out an APB for TNT.

Clap Your Hands, Say Breakfast!

25 years ago, the only way you could get me through an entire bowl of Cheerios was to throw a cup of sugar on top of it. No joke. It was a snowy breakfast savior. For a long time, there was a tug-of-war between my parents and I about just how much sugar was allowable. My mom came up with some kind of trick that had me believing she could measure how much sugar had been used that day. Total BS, but it worked at the time.

My, how times have changed. For two years now, I've equated breakfast with Cheerios and a banana. It's somewhat of a science, although admittedly, it was an easy process to perfect. You have to get the feel for your preferred level of ripeness in a banana, the amount of milk (in my case, Silk) you enjoy and lastly, the ratio of cereal to fruit that suits you.

I happen to prefer bananas pretty ripe. Nothing makes me puke in my mouth more than a green, even if ever so slightly, banana. So I lay down a "bed" of Cheerios, upon which I lay the slices of banana (this ensures that I don't eat all the fruit in the first few bites) and then fill the remainder of the bowl with cereal. I usually run in the morning, so the Silk (I... ehh... don't do well with the...  lactose) just becomes another fluid and I drown 'dem Cheerios with it. Again, because I often run before I eat, I'm pretty hungry when the time does roll around, so the bigger the bowl, the better. A breakdown of each scoop usually consists of 50% banana, 50% Cheerios. This renders an even, clean finish. Perfecto.

What happened between my childhood and now? Some might argue that my taste buds changed but I don't buy it. Every kid loves sugar. It's like crack. I'm not kidding. It was as if I needed that taste in my mouth for anything to be edible. We certainly don't start out that way. I've seen my nieces eat mashed peas and not think twice. Then we realize we have choices and if we're going to eat something, it might as well taste good, right?

That's probably the way it's always going to be but at the end of the day, we're the ones that are responsible for what we put in our body. I'm still pretty picky about what I eat, but I'm coming around... slowly. I still hate green peppers and the thought of eating a raw tomato without it being on some kind of sandwich doesn't sit well with me but I've come to find that, in general, most naturally occurring foods taste pretty good. Who knew?

V-Ballin'

I remember playing volleyball in grade school. Gym teachers attempted to teach us the fundamentals of the sport but all we really wanted to do was hit the ball hard. Really hard. This translated into seeing who could serve the ball the farthest and whiffing big-time when the rare opportunity for a spike presented itself.

My freshman year in college, I worked with a guy that played on UC's club volleyball team and he would invite me to the Clifton Rec Center for some open gyms. I was reluctant to say the least and held off on any commitments for most of that year. Finally, after coming back to school in the fall and resuming my shifts at the UC Bookstore, I told Andy I'd give it a shot. Soon after, I was playing every Thursday night and having a good time of it. My sister came to school the following year and I'd take her along, too. I left for Dallas in the spring and ended up playing quite a bit outdoors in my second quarter down there with a few of the guys my brother worked with.

Shortly after I graduated, my sister asked me if I'd be interested in playing in a league via the Cincinnati Sports League. I said I would and we did that for several years, playing with several different teams out at the Sand Bar (pictured). Then I moved to Columbus, but it didn't stop there. I played at Flannagan's in Dublin with one group, then out in Gahanna at Gatsby's with yet another. And now we're back where it all started and I'm playing again with my sister out on Kellogg.

The point of all this is to demonstrate that you can do something for a long time and still not be good at it. Duration is never the only condition required for success. It's precision and frequency combined over an extended period of time that renders the greatest results... but that's not news to anyone and even then, it doesn't always work out. If you don't commit that dedication to an endeavor, then you must accept it for what it is... a hobby.

Not long ago, I got upset and made myself look like an ass because I thought I should've played better on a particular night than what I did. I get frustrated sometimes because every shot I take with my camera isn't what I thought it would or could be. When I don't nail a PR at a particular race, I feel like hanging it up. But then I put my runners back on the next day because I want to relax. I pull out my camera because I find something interesting. I take another swing at the volleyball because it's fun.

Pressures, internally and externally, along with expectations can get in the way of fun. They can get in the way of life. Sometimes we need to take time-outs to realize that. All I know is that I'm glad to be back in the sand.

The Blast

I made a mistake last weekend. I was going to bring the camera to the Hyde Park Blast bike race on Saturday night. I didn't want to deal with it and therein lies the mistake. I wish I had visual documentation of how cool this race was. So you have to deal with the photo the brightroom folks took of me at the 4-Mile foot race they held in the morning. Sorry.

First, the race report. This was the third or fourth time I've run this race, but the last attempt came in 2005, I believe... so it's been a minute. I ran that race with Erica and it's the closest I've ever come to losing to her. I almost started walking up the hill on Handasyde (an incline that comes a little after Mile 3 of the race... it's notoriously brutal). So 2010's version was a little different due to a course change a few years ago and it's been hotter than hell as late.

So 8 a.m. rolled around Saturday morning and temps were already reaching into the upper 70's with some pretty high humidity. The glaring sun didn't help matters, but the gun went off and so did we. I had an idea in mind of what I wanted to run, but I had forgotten my watch and there were no mile markers on the course, so this one was up in the air... I just went by effort... and it was hard. I thought I'd have to throw in the towel a couple of times but I managed to bring it home in 25:29. About 30 seconds off what I was looking for, but it'll have to do... mostly because I'm not running it again... at least not for another year. It was the first race where I was pretty positive that I was going to puke or fall down when I crossed the finish line. I did neither which was a bonus but all it means is that I apparently didn't push it hard enough. My sister and a couple of her friends ran and did well, so we met up after everyone had finished and ate some donuts and drank some beers (sorry Meg... the picture was too good not to include).

Erica had a baby shower that night for a friend so I headed back down to meet up with my sister and Dan for the elite 5K race and the final men's bike race that night. They ran the 5K on the 1mi criterium loop and they were fast. 14:44 fast... which is still almost two minutes off the WR. Scary. Shortly thereafter, the bike race started and it was amazing to say the least. We set up camp on the south side of Hyde Park Square and you could literally stand right up against the course and these bikes would come flying down Erie Avenue before slowing for the turn. They went about this for an hour and a half. The race itself, as a runner, is still not anything I understand. A race should be the first one to the finish... bottom line. Apparently it's not like that and I don't know how to explain just how it is. But I do know it was awesome and if there's a race near you, attend it and thank me later.

So it was a good weekend. Now onto the 4th. More good times ahead. I also included a little oil spill calculator. I hate how quickly we Americans forget about shit solely because it's not in our backyard. I'm guilty as charged so this is me not forgetting. Not forgetting to try and do something different. I've said it before and I'll say it again... we're smarter than this. We're not this selfish. This is not the only way.