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.