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.