The Street Sweeper

I like to call bike rides like yesterday "Street Sweeper" workouts for two reasons. One, it wipes the slate clean mentally and physically (after the flat at Nationals, I need days like that). Two, because sanitation vehicles would be wise to draft on my back wheel (but not too close) to clean any throw-up left on the roads. It applies to running as well--when you go so hard that all blood flow seems to divert from both the stomach and digestive tract, with the max heart rate interval resulting in a the distinct feeling that you are about to do an impression of Linda Blair in The Exorcist.

We all have that workout that is always on the training plan when the comfort of familiar suffering is essential for our mind and body. For me, it involves 6 laps of Central Park (with diversions, about 40 miles of rolling hills) followed by 6 reps up a steep climb. The 40 miles at tempo-type pace are just a prelude to the terrible destruction, like the water rushing out before a tidal wave, or Rush Limbaugh clearing his throat. The hill is at 125th street in Manhattan, where one side alley goes from the water to the city's highest point (Grant's Tomb) in a straight line. The rules are this:

1. Must ride in the big chain ring.
2. Must stay out of the saddle.

Riding down the climb before the first rep, one quote from my dad echoes through my head:

"Let's get this fun over with."

Beginning the climb from a standing start, my only goals are to get to the top, and to avoid expelling polluting throw-up in an effusive way that makes upper Manhattan wish it was as pristine as the Mississippi Delta. At the end, my arms are tired from ripping the bike side to side with my pedal stroke, my legs are destroyed from the pounding, and my face is sore from the facial contortions of pain (aka STROKE FACE). But one thing always stands out in the post-workout euphoria---the "Street Sweeper" made things right again.

Thursday: AM-Street Sweeper (2.5 hours total)
PM-4 miles easy
Friday: 2 hours easy ride with 4 mile easy run

Umbrella Hitchhiking

With my running motivation sapped from this weekend, the next few weeks are going to be a cycling focus. Unfortunately, I still have places to go and cannot always use my bike. It's time to get intense----EXTREME WALKING!

Last Thursday, I was wearing my fancy pants for the big thesis presentation. Just as I stepped out the door, thunder rumbled (this time, thunder was not a euphemism employed after lunch at a Mexican place). Rain was imminent, and I had 10 blocks to my destination. Usually I would run to the convention center. But, on this day I was a man in an all-black suit in New York City----I saw that movie and it ended with a cockroach alien fighting Will Smith. So, I employed the hippie ingenuity passed down from my father to develop a strategy---Umbrella Hitchhiking. I waited for a person to pass on the street, then asked where they were going (while trying my best to not seem like Jeffrey Dahmer). Awesomely, she agreed to walk in my general direction!

"Perfect!" I said in a way to make myself seem as if I did not enjoy the taste of human flesh. Oh, but she was only going halfway.

"That's fine!" I said in a charmingly disarming, yet clearly non-rapey way. After a minute walk, she left me at an overhang.

"Goodbye, and thank you so much!" I said in a way that suggested I had no immediate plans of following her to use her hair in the creation of a lifelike Voodoo doll/sex toy.

Still, the pouring rain continued, and I needed to go to Barnard's campus (the all girls' school where the event was taking place). Because I learn everything I know about girls through teen literature, I tried my best to look less like a desperate thesis-presenter, and more like a Twilight character. My attempt to look like a brooding werewolf must have worked, because I was picked up by a beautiful girl in a sundress.

"This is how pornos start!" I thought, sexily.

"This is how pepper spray gets used!" she implied, mace-ily. 5 minutes had passed, I had made 2 new friends from Umbrella Hitchhiking, and ended up at the destination completely dry.

Wednesday: AM-11 mile run
PM-40 minutes trainer

Training Partners

Among the many messages from friends and well-wishers after this weekend (by the way, thanks guys, you are awesome) was a text from one of my best friends (and cat 2 cyclist), Tony. It said: "Dude. So sorry. Let's go crush it this week." Now, for most bros, this translates to getting absolutely hammered on Natty Ice. But our bromance is a little different. No, what Tone had in mind was a 60 mile ride in Central Park designed as catharsis for any lingering frustration. We did that ride today, tacking on some hill repeats for good measure.

At one point it was pouring rain. An hour later there were 30 mph winds. But through it all was great conversation. Not a word was uttered about the race, or tests, or responsibilities--to tell you the truth, I can't even remember exactly what we talked about. However, I do remember laughing so hard that I almost skidded out on a descent, and being more sore in the facial cheeks from smiling than the less tan cheeks from riding.

This may sound strange, especially after the bromance talk, but I think there is a certain intimacy in sharing an experience of physical, athletic exertion. My training partners are some of my best friends; I wouldn't be surprised if I meet my wife on a training run. And that all comes back to a personal connection through a run, or a ride, or anything physical really. For that period of time, you are both striving to a common goal, yet constantly cognizant of your companion. I could not train with someone I did not personally enjoy just like I could not marry a girl with a shitty personality. Luckily, meeting athletes this weekend in Richmond reinforced one thing that has been ubiquitous in my travels, whether in Boulder during the summers or Central Park during the Springs.....the people you meet on the trails and roads of life are pretty fucking awesome.

FERAL TIT

My race can be summarized in the anagram above. Good first 5k, in the lead group, and pretty quality start to the bike (appropriate anagram for a race with 1200 people-GIN FART'D), before the freaking wheel decided to go all FERAL TIT on us.

So it goes.

Even when something that seems bad happens though, another Vonnegut quote (besides the one above) is worth thinking about:

If this isn't nice, I don't know what is.

Life rocks, even when some parts aren't exactly perfect.

Nationals Eve

Checking in on Nationals Eve! (if anyone is curious, a dinner of a sweet potato egg-white omelet, a glass of red wine, and a ton of non-dairy ice cream). Feel like my body is firing on all cylinders---this really is the fun part. On that note, let's name the song for the race! "Church" by Lyle Lovett tells the story of a hungry parish, waiting for the preacher to finish his sermon so they can go eat. In the metaphor, training is the sermon, the taper is the anticipation, and the beans/cornbread are the race itself. "It's time for dinner now, let's go eat" :)



Anyway, at check in, 6 different people came up and called me "Bone Dreamcrusher". So that was pretty freaking cool. Their strategy seems to be like the people from Jurassic Park that stand still in front of the Tyrannosaurus Rex, hoping that being in plain sight will protect them. However, similar to the T-Rex, this is a misconception. Bone Dreamcrusher takes no prisoners and ignores no one, unless he needs time to force feed them for triathlete foie gras. That way, if BDC is feeling patient that day, their livers will taste even better with fava beans and a nice Chianti.

WOOOOOOOO! Hope everyone is amazing. I really owe you guys a lot for your support. So thank you :)

Passionate Pefection

I am officially out of Manhattan and on the way to Richmond! It really is a great place to have Nationals, because in addition to being the home of my brother and his awesome girlfriend, Richmond pronounced phonetically is the title of my new reality show idea. Said in a Jamaican accent, "Rich Man'd" will be like "Punk'd", except it will involve Usain Bolt punching the shit out of strangers, then running away.


Anyway, I am getting taper crazy. Which for me seems to translate to a few things:

1. A constant state of euphoria. I feel like I snorted the contents of Rush Limbaugh's medicine cabinet.
2. More passion about things than usual. Usually, when events that might make most people angry occur, I end up deciding that anger takes too much energy. My life that ensues is very similar to that of a senior citizen: I take a nap, play some bridge, go to Red Lobster for the early bird special, and watch "NCI's". At least I assume geezers watch NCI's, because senility is the only valid excuse.

So, with that, a couple passionate updates:

-We had our thesis poster session last night! Dressed in my fancy pants, we had to deliver a 1 minute presentation in front of the 200 assembled in front of the stage. Because I had found out the day before that I was not chosen for top departmental honors (finished second for Environmental Science), I decided to go a little crazy during my speech. Channeling an albino Barack Obama, I enunciated and emphasized with effervescent enthusiasm, finishing with this line:
"This is not merely an issue of turning up the air conditioning the smallest of notches during the summer months....(pause, stare at audience, wink at pretty ladies)...NO, this is an issue of GLOBAL WARMING, and of the NECESSITY for politically feasible, economically motivated reform in a changing world. Thank you and goodnight. (drop microphone, do touchdown dance, propose to girlfriend, crowd surf)"

-Another thing I forgot to mention last week is that I went to a comedy show on campus at 11PM last Saturday, and sat next to Viggo Mortensen. His oozing manliness was very exciting. Aragon made me want to move to Vermont and put on a ring, if you know what I mean. It was like my loins were thrown into the volcano. OTHER LORD OF THE RINGS REFERENCE.

-I am so excited for the race on Sunday. The general plan is to go out hard at about 15:50 pace for the first 5k, then try to finish strong. We shall see; however, life should never be viewed as a means to an end. In that respect, the process of the race is important, not necessarily the result. Just as every second can bring moments of experiential epiphany, every mile can bring a life-affirming connection to a feeling that is physically....and spiritually.....perfect.

Nostalgic 8 Miler Race Report (A New York City Photo-Journal)

Summary:
With 25 days until graduation, I am trying to force nostalgia on my college experience. This entails playing lots of Green Day's "Time of Your Life" on an acoustic guitar and looking over my shoulder wistfully whenever I ignore a panhandler. Also, it involves taking a lot of pictures, so today I took a camera on the recovery run. Duathlon Nationals (an A race) is this weekend, and the photos forced me to slow down. Yes, the Nostalgic 8 Miler is a race where the goal is to finish last. I am pretty sure this is the same approach that the Mets take to the baseball season, or Ben Roethlisberger takes to non-rape contests.

Race:
After an excessively hearty breakfast of Peanut Butter Panda Puffs, I was out the door into Riverside Park and down to the Hudson. Now usually, people only spend time anywhere near the River of Rancidity if they bet the wrong horse habitually, or for some reason thought registering for the New York City Triathlon was a good idea. Also, THERE ARE GHOST SHIPS FROM THE 1700s:


What should I tell these time travelers?, I thought as I continued my run south along Manhattan. Two things come to mind:
1. A black guy is president.
2. Never go up against a Sicilian when death is on the line.
My name is Inigo Montoya. PREPARE TO DIE!

At this point, I slowed even further. I was not going to get beat in this game of being last BY ANYONE. Basically, my mantra involved being the lone white guy in the 100 meters, or Ryan Hall in a major marathon. About two miles in, my path was diverted:


NO EARTHLY 'ZONE' CAN TELL ME WHAT TO DO, I thought in capital letters. So I continued wogging (jog/walk hybrid) until I heard a menacing bark. It was a pitbull. Where is Mike Vick when you need him? So I turned around and headed into the park. Oh, what's that? PRETTY FLOWER INTERLUDE:


I feel as if my love of this picture is enough evidence to gain me admissions to an all-women's school, or perhaps a Twilight Fan Club. I continued running across town at 70th street, struggling to continue forward movement through the clouds of my own personal estrogen, until I came to a beautiful pink tree in Central Park. MID-RUN ZOMBIE ATTACK:


FIX YO FACE! The modern-day Medusa above continued jogging through back trails in Central Park, attempting to avoid hobos with chainsaws and the equally dangerous oblivious Asians with cameras. You know what I like?.....REDUNDANCY:


Tu sabes que me gusta?......Redunduncia! It was time to head north through the park, past the famous Reservoir (much more talented photographers than me have done that already) and back to Columbia's campus. I think I was passed by a stroller. The hamsters on the wheel that are Sarah Palin's intellect run faster than me on a taper recovery day. Finally, I was back to campus, firmly secure in my last place.


Getting ready to say goodbye, I took one last picture of campus with world-famous Butler Library in the background. "Love. Cherish. Defend It." Notably, if you go to Cornell, their flagpole says "Ambivalence. Meh. What are we talking about?"

I finally returned to my room, secure in my knowledge that, on this day, no one beat me in time it takes to run 8 miles. Nor did they beat me in nostalgia.

P.S. I want to give credit to Tim Waggoner (author of Joghard), whose amazing website gave me the idea to do a photo-journal on an easy run day. If you don't already read his blog, you should.

Sweet Home North Carolina

Making uncouth jokes about the South for the post about Nationals in Richmond had me thinking--Dixie land really is my new home, at least for a few years. To tell you the truth, I am so excited. The people really seem great, the weather is perfect, and it will be a welcome change from New York City.

In honor of the future move to Duke, and this weekend's big race down in Richmond, here is the playlist for the Southern migration:

1. Old Crow Medicine Show, "Wagon Wheel" (Live version)

To experience this song, you really need to go to a bluegrass concert and scream the lyrics at the top of your lungs.

And I gotta get a move on before the sun
I hear my baby callin' my name
And I know that she's the only one
And if I die in Raleigh
At least I will die free.

Interesting fact: the chorus to the song was originally conceived (though not recorded) by Bob Dylan. Doesn't get much better than that.

2. Little Feat, "Dixie Chicken"

I love this recording because it has four amazing artists--Little Feat, Jesse Winchester, Emmy Lou Harris, and Bonnie Raitt. Granted, the black guy bongo solo makes me feel just a tad bit uncomfortable.

3. The Band, "The Weight" from The Last Waltz

The best recording of an outstanding song. Hope you enjoy the songs as much as I do.

Taper? I HARDLY KNOW HER!

Nationals is on the way, which can mean only one thing: COOKIES! Wait, no, that would be if Cookie Monster was on the way. Nationals is more conducive to spandex and shaved legs. So while Cookie Monster may be absent, after reading the last sentence Bert and Ernie booked a trip to Richmond.


So, a week out from the big race, here are some ruminations:

1. For Nationals, I am attempting a full taper for the first time in my athletic life. In the past, I have done easier runs/bikes for a week or so before big events, but for this one I am in the midst of a 2 week calculated reduction in work load. It has really been different. It is so bad that in between eating cheese and protesting their 5 hour workday, French laborers were quoted saying that I am lazy. This is damning because those socialists only do something productive when their miming routine is particularly effective and they can't get out of the box.

2. The race is a 5k-38k-5k format, which is a mixed bag in terms of my skill set. I am most confident with my run (when matched against the big boys), and the heavy skew to the bike is a little intimidating. Granted, I have the Mercury now, which is like when Han Solo got the Millennium Falcon, or when Lance Armstrong first injected grain silos worth of performance enhancers. ALL OF A SUDDEN I AM FAST.
(This picture was on my hard drive. I don't remember why:)

3. Nationals will be my first race breaking out Bone Dreamcrusher on a big stage. He was created a few months after this race last year, where a demoralizing DNF led me to recalculate my mental and physical perspective on racing. What I came away with was this---Racing is a celebration. I really am not an externally motivated person, and goals relating directly to performance or perception are a hindrance to my success. The one thing about Bone is that he understands how to relax and enjoy the moment. That is what Nationals is for me--a party where I get to see friends (some of the blog readers!) and attempt to feel the euphoria of an amazing day.

When reached for comment, Bone Dreamcrusher had the following message for fellow racers:

Hey Jackasses! The reason they call it Du-athlon is that you soil your pants when you see me at the start line. For your sake, thank god it's not a tri because pooping your wetsuit makes for an unpleasant swim. After all, this race is in Richmond and the only way Detroit of the South could become less agreeable is if a thousand carb-loaded athletes simultaneously released their bowels in the James River. And seriously, the "James" River? This is Richmond, the capital of the Confederacy. None of the Larry the Cable Guy impersonators that refer to the South as home have been called James since they were busy donating blankets to Native Americans. From now on, it's the more culturally appropriate Jimbo River. GIT RRR DONNNNNEEEE.

Training:
Saturday: 6 miles easy
Sunday: 45 minutes trainer with 7 mile run

P.S. If you will be down for the race, email or comment! I'd love to get in touch with some of you. Hope training/life is perfect in every way :)

Non-sequitur. PENIS!!!

Some people have the problem of texting old flames when drunk; for me, I suffer from a condition where I have the urge to blog after something positive happens in my life. For the drunkards, what results can only be described as humiliation from 2:30 AM eloquence: "Cum overrrr 3===)". My blog posts, meanwhile, turn into a cavalcade of sentimentalities that would make Henry David Thoreau drown himself in Walden Pond. After officially committing to Duke on Wednesday, the resulting post is what I imagine would happen if you gave a typewriter to a Care Bear that was tripping on Ecstasy.


Anyway, the law school choice is officially made! I just want to assure everyone that the blog will continue into this new life step at Duke. THIS DICK JOKE TRAIN AIN'T LEAVING THE TRACKS. The one regret I have about the decision to head South is that it will put me in Republican country. It's like being in Zombieland, but with garlic and wooden stakes being replaced by logic and desegregated bathrooms. Also, if I chose UCLA, it would have allowed me to conjure an 1800s prospector and say, HERETOFORE THIS LOCOMOTIVE OF PHALLIC WITTICISMS SHALL MANIFEST ITS DESTINY IN THE LAND OF GOLD.

So for the rest of this semester, I am playing with house money. There is nothing to lose. An apple a day keeps the doctor away. OTHER CLICHES. Ummmm, what was I saying? Oh yeah, the next month as a college student will be filled with excitement and bloggable hijinks. Starting with:

Duathlon Nationals (April 25th):
Bone Dreamcrusher is going down to Richmond for this one. Letting him go down to the biggest race of the year is like giving General Sherman the command in Georgia, what results will surely be a path of destruction that single-handedly destroys the cotton industry. For Sherman, he burnt the cotton fields. For BDC, after the nation sees him in spandex, their eyes will be opened to true beauty and no one will ever wear that devil fabric again.

Finals (???):
Who gives a shit.

Senior Week (May 9th-15th):
There is an event, ON A BOAT


American Zofingen (May 16th):
Last year, this race won me the national championship. But from a purely fun perspective, the people partying under the pavilion are positively perfect. Picnic pancakes pantsless!

Graduation (May 18th):
Will I win departmental honors? Is going commando under the cap and gown frowned upon? Can I stifle a chuckle when they announce people who graduated Cum Laude? WILL SOMEONE PLAY GREEN DAY!?!?!?

Training:
Wednesday: Yoga only
Thursday: 1 hr ride with 30 big gear and 6 mile tempo-ish run
Friday: 45 minutes trainer (3x1 minute all-out), 5 mile easy run

P.S. Thanks so much for all of the awesomely kind messages and emails. I really do owe everything to my amazing family and friends.

Beauty and Change

When I was just a child, I remember standing on top of a mountain in Colorado, gazing down at an expansive landscape of forests and lakes, and feeling an undefinable euphoria at existence itself. What I learned as I became older is that the euphoria of that mountain view is around us every day, whether on a run in the park or in a conversation with a friend.

I always make the same sentimental statement: Life is amazing. Beneath the sappiness inherent in such a vague exclamation lies a reality--a love of people, nature, and beauty in all of its forms creates a permanent wonderment at existence. I have been given boundless privilege in the form of friends and family that are unceasingly supportive; I feel as if it is my duty to give back in a way that supports the people, nature, and beauty that make life so amazing.

With that, the official announcement:



Duke Law combines an intellectually invigorating, friendly community with an environmental focus that is one-of-a-kind. We are currently at a crossroads of human history where anthropogenic ambivalence threatens to irrevocably alter the future of beauty itself. Environmental degradation can only be counteracted with political will, and through law and science we can make positive change.

One day in the distant future, we can only hope that a child will be able to experience nature and have an epiphany of the beauty of existence. I hope to play a small part in creating that future---a future where that child can peer off a mountain ledge and feel those three sentimental words:

Life is amazing.

Facebook Stalking--A Heartwarming Tale

I want to start with a quick story. On Friday, I received an email asking for my help to recruit guides for disabled athletes at Duathlon Nationals. I consider the person that emailed a friend, although we have never spoken in person, and was thrilled to aid her in any way I could. Using Facebook and email, I contacted a few people, fully expecting that the substantial and selfless commitment was far too much to ask. Then I went to class.

2 hours later, I sat back down at my computer. I checked the email, hoping for one or two responses....

Sixteen new emails awaited.

Of those that responded, I only personally knew three senders. The others know me through the blog, or races, or facebook. But I feel like we are friends. Not because they responded to the email, but because they were so willing to go out of their way to help strangers. So thank you guys. I am happy to know you, and even happier to call you friends.



Anyway, it was super-cool that all of these interactions occurred solely through online social networking. It really has changed our lives--now when I meet a girl, her Facebook interests let me know what pick-up line to use:

Girl, you know what I love? Books, fun, friendship, first kisses, and ponies! What? You do too!! Who knew?? What is your favorite book? No way! I masturbate to EAT PRAY LOVE! You know, there is this one Marilyn Monroe quote that really summarizes my outlook on the world.....You have heard it? It's your favorite quote!? NO WAY! WHAT AN INTELLECTUAL SHE WAS!

(those details are all taken from a friend's profile....sorry Lisa) In fact, the reason the blog began in the first place was to entice sponsors. Now I have an amazing bike (Mercury is the best), get some free food (Nature's Path WOOT!), do some service (dick jokes count, right?), and have a worldwide audience greater than Jay Leno (so something like 20). On that note, it is time to ask for some gear. I am willing to prostitute myself if it means a new pair of shoes, and I ask anyone who reads the blog with any connection to the following products to pull some strings. Cmon guys, I am just a small town girl, living in a lonely world. The stripping can barely even pay for school.

Nike Lunaracers: I was running today (2x1 mile in 4:41 average, 10 miles total), and realized that I can feel individual pebbles on the soles of my feet--the Lunaracers are getting old. These are the most amazing shoes ever made, and I love them dearly. They are soft yet strong, comfortable and fast. They are beautiful. They are loving sexually. UNLIKE THAT BITCH LISA!

Gluten-Free Beer: I mean, seriously guys, I can think of no better ambassador for your product. Red Bridge, you need to get on your game. I mean, don't you want me to be the face of the product? On an awesomely great hair day, I can pass for somewhat interesting looking. My mediocre looks will inspire an agreeable ambivalence usually reserved for ABC sitcoms. I CAN BE YOUR SCRUBS!



Nature's Path: You guys have given me a lot of product in the past, but I feel as if our relationship has become distant. I love you guys. Peanut Butter Panda Puffs are like crack to my celiac self. For a box of gluten free deliciousness, I'm not saying I would perform sexual acts that would make Monica Lewinsky blush, but I will buy a box of cigars just in case.

Hey guys! I am making the law school decision in just a few hours. NYU was eliminated, so it's down to Duke and UCLA. Hope everything is amazing!

Bone Dreamcrusher's CNN Debut (with unrelated video!)

That video makes me laugh, thought I'd pass it along :)

One of my most beloved pastimes is going to CNN.com and reading the headlines. On a good day there might be a lighthearted story about a pet squirrel that called 'speed dial 1' when its owner had a stroke (unfortunately, 911 was 'speed-dial 2'). On a bad day, it is like playing a game of Connect Four with murders and jet-ski crashes.

Meanwhile, the in-between days have a little of both; perhaps a pet squirrel who suffers a horrific jet ski accident while the owner accidentally uses speed-dial to call the pizza place. Note: if this story occurs in the South, the delivery guy just uses his hatchet to make the squirrel-parts into an extra topping, and the story becomes lighthearted again.

Anyway, here are the first five stories on CNN right now, with Bone Dreamcrusher commentary. DISCLAIMER: Bone Dreamcrusher is a complete disgrace to humanity, whose views are almost disgusting enough to warrant a show on Fox News.

6.2 Magnitude Quake Hits Spain
The tectonic shift happened to occur at 4 PM. Knowing only stereotypes about lazy, siesta-taking Spaniards, we assume that millions were tragically stranded in the sand box after nap time

Mine Reventilated For Recovery Effort
The story is even more tragic if the first word is read as "mime". Once a mime is gone, they should never be brought back. THE WORLD IS A BETTER PLACE WITHOUT INVISIBLE BOXES.

Pakistani Kids' Nuanced Views on Nukes
They know more about proliferation and diplomacy than Sarah Palin

Mexico Shooting Spree Caught on Tape
In the tragic drive-by shooting, the assailants riddled a low-riding Camaro with bullets. 47 were wounded.

Kyrgyzstan Buries its Dead
In Kyrgyzstan, the word-game Hangman is played with a literal meaning. Recess was inside that on Friday, and the teacher thought he was being patriotic when he chose a word for his 3rd grade class.

Sorry about BDC, that guy is an asshole. In other news, training has been slack-tastic this weekend. Believe it or not, pick-up football on Thursday ripped my body to shreds, and my workouts have suffered the consequences. I went from a 4.4 40-yard dash 4 years ago, to 44 Ibuprofen just to cure the arthritis that has apparently infected my soul from a game of two-hand touch. That being said, NATIONALS IS TWO WEEKS AWAY! I am so excited; I really think that this could be the breakthrough performance (hence am attempting to peak for the first time!). Also, The Mercury just came in and looks amazing, so thank you to those guys! Below is a gorgeous specimen (and the bike looks pretty good too):



The bike looks so sexy that my biggest fear will be getting attacked my a mob of beautiful women while in the aero position. Going places with the Mercury will make your life like an Axe commercial ALL THE TIME. However, the bike is too fast for any of the aroused women to catch you unless they have a motorcycle.

Time to Depress the Hell out of You

Hopefully, this post redeems the recent sentimentality. Each of the topics are chosen because they are more depressing than losing your noise-canceling headphones at a Dave Matthews concert.

1. Yesterday, there was a pro-life protest on campus. Protesting abortion at Columbia University is like protesting women's suffrage at Byrn Mawr (my sign would say "Women Should be Dressed in White like all Kitchen Appliances"!) Us liberal hippies would kill babies as bloodsport if it didn't violate our vegan principles.

2. Sometimes I like going to CNN.com and imagining that we are in a post-apocalyptic Hellscape. For example, the top 4 "Hot Topics" AT THIS MOMENT:

-Mining Accidents
-Nuclear Weapons
-Tiger Woods
-Confederacy

Fear is the new opiate of the masses, and it is apparently being used to sell Trilipix Cholesterol Medication on CNN.com. My imagined slogan: "Trilipix, for when diet, exercise, and public-humiliation are not enough. DOES FATTY MCFATERSON WANT ANOTHER EGG YOLK SMOOTHIE? Seriously, lump-muffin, your shirt isn't black and slimming, it is black because no light can escape your gravitational pull.™"

3. Last night, I played shirts vs. skins football on the quad with a bunch of my bros. While that sounds like the first line in an erotic novel written by Larry Craig, it is actually a true story that does not include post-game inner-thigh massages. What I quickly realized during the game is how far I have fallen as a 'real' athlete in the last 4 years. I came to college as a 190 pound football player whose neck existed solely as a direct connection between my ears and shoulder blades, while I leave as a 145 pound triathlete who considers a trip home from the supermarket with 2 bags an 'upper-body workout'.Playing football again made me feel like the Biggest Loser trying to sumo wrestle, or the Desperate Housewives trying to look like non-septuagenarians. MY TIME HAS PASSED.

4. Reading CNN also revealed that Virginia has declared April "Confederate History Month." That is fucking reprehensible, unless they are specifically celebrating hateful treason, racism, and shitty economic policy, in which case I endorse nightly state-wide viewings of Roots.

5. Continuing with the theme, a 2009 study from Columbia revealed that 10% of Americans are taking anti-depressants. Now, I understand that there are situations where it is very necessary, but just because prescription drug companies endorse mind-altering substances does not mean we should be pumping our 6 year-olds full of narcotics. Would we have ever heard the Emancipation Proclamation if Abraham Lincoln had Efexor? Would we understand space and time through the Theory of Relativity if Albert Einstein was conked out on Ritalin? I do not know the answers to those questions, but I will stick to my coffee, wine, and running-induced dopamine, thank you very much.*

*The double-standard gong sounds, signaling the end of the post.

Hey guys, The final law school decision will be made by next Wednesday.....to tell you the truth, I am kind of nervous. Hope you guys are having a great day!

Daily Miracles

WARNING: Sentimentality ensues. This is an adaptation of my law school personal statement, with all the law school stuff removed.

Just returned from an incredible run with a buddy, and the endorphins had me thinking about how amazing life is. Not the summation of life, per se. I think a view of life that is detrimental to happiness, and contradicts the basic tenets of BEING alive, is to view each month as an integration of each day, and to view each year as an integration of each month, and so on down the line. This distant view can lead to a detached perspective, and life can seem like an epic struggle to overcome the requisite adversity. To put it more concisely, shit happens. Shit happens all the time, to everyone. The act of success implies the existence of failure, just as the act of life implies the inevitability of death. Sometime within the next fifty years, my parents will die. My relationships will fall apart. Life is not a fairy tale, and there is no assurance of a 'happily ever after' for every endeavor.

But why is that so fucking important? Each day brings a plethora of sensations that on their own constitute a uniquely whole experience. So my parents might die, which is probably the most distressing thing I could imagine happening to me, but I still had the moments last year where my mom showed up at the finish line of the World Championships to surprise me, or my dad had words of encouragement when I passed him on the course. Those moments are why I love them, not some overwhelming story arc integrated over the course of my childhood. Love is not someone caring for you over the course of 21 years; it is having someone tuck you in at night when you're five. Friendship is not a relationship based on four years of familiarity; it is when a person hugs you after something in your life went sour.

All of this brings me back to today. After Spanish class, I was talking to a friend who made a little joke (perfectly constructed and vulgar!). A belly laugh turned into one of those uncontrollable laughs which turned into snot flying everywhere. It was amazing. Went running afterwards, and a little old lady in Harlem gave me the brightest smile in the world and said, "You have a hot body!" It was amazing. If I'm lucky enough to look into a pair of loving eyes, or breath some fresh air, or just FEEL pleasure, pain, or love for just a moment; it will be amazing. It will be a miracle. Looking up into the night sky, some people see pointlessness, some people find atheism. I find God, manifested in the infinite improbability of our existence at this one moment in time. To me, the galaxies are real, the stars are real, the people are real, and the moments are real----imposing narratives beyond this is an invitation to unnecessary unhappiness. Daily miracles are what make it so amazing to be alive, and I think we should never forget that, even for a second.

Smelling the Roses

At Columbia, "The Steps" are similar to "The Quad" at most colleges, or "The Gorges" at Cornell (possibly too soon for that one). It is a place people gather for a shared experience. Because I am a second-semester senior whose most irritating responsibility is to put on pants, I spend a lot of time on The Steps. In fact, if it continues being this beautiful, my time out in the Sun will make my complexion look like I attempted to pull off a Richard Pryor drug experience.

Anyway, the girls wear sundresses, the guys go shirtless, and our little campus in NYC really becomes a happy community. Yesterday, while sitting on the steps around 8:30, enjoying a cold beverage with friends, a Christian chorus sat behind us and began singing hymns. Aside from putting our lighters in the air for the Lord, it was a really amazing experience. Nothing summarizes college quite like going to the steps with a book (currently "Team of Rivals"--with my newly rekindled love for Abraham Lincoln and passionate admiration of Barack, the only way this book could be better is if it had a section of time-travel slash fiction), sitting down with the book on my lap, and getting through a single page before friends gather around.

Aside from that, training has been outstanding leading up to Nationals on April 24th. Yesterday morning I completed my final super-intense brick workout before the big day, with a 2h30min hard bike in Central Park (for those that know CP, 4 hardest laps in just under an hour) followed by an hour run (a friend described my running outfit as 'aggressively shirtless'--considering it was tri shorts and sunglasses, that is very accurate). I feel good; I am ready to go. I will talk about it more in the next couple weeks, but a quality performance in Richmond could hopefully lead to a top-5 finish. Which is good, because LADIES CANNOT RESIST THE BODIES OF OBSCURE ENDURANCE ATHLETES. My Nationals-ready physique makes me look like an extra in "Nightmare Before Christmas".


Enjoying a hard cider out on the steps after that workout, one thing is certain--life is amazing. I really didn't want to make this one of my serious, sentimental posts (see left sidebar for dick-joke free zone!), but sometimes it is really great to take a step back and appreciate just being alive. I wouldn't be surprised if 40 years from now, this particular moment in time will emerge nostalgically from my subconscious---by appreciating every second while it happens, I hope that nostalgia will manifest itself in a content smile rather than a wistful regret.

Chuck Norris Fears This Post

So this past week has been incredibly productive. Over the 7 days, I got in 65 miles running with both speed and tempo, along with ~130 on the bike (thesis completion too!). I was trying to diagnose why I have felt so good, and I could only think of one logical explanation: my new BoosBlock Commercial 1 1/2" Maple Cutting Board that Cookware.com sent me for free. I am not saying that it is performance enhancing, but one look at it made Mark McGwire's testicles shrink two sizes. If you try to cut a wilted zucchini on the maple board, the vegetable immediately becomes erect. A few years ago, Chuck Norris tried to roundhouse kick it with both feet....afterward, he changed his name to Oscar Pistorius.


In all seriousness, it is a great cutting board and I have loved using it the last week. Testing it has mainly involved eating more vegetables, and focusing on taking the time to cook well rather than cook conveniently. As a gluten-free celiac athlete with very specific nutritional needs, that is essential. So thanks to the guys at CSN stores!

A few observations:

-While running today (long run with tempo mixed in--about 14 miles), I saw a woman walking in Central Park with "Jealous!" written on the right butt cheek of her shorts---but ONLY the right butt cheek. There are two possible explanations:

1) She was only proud of one butt cheek. So instead of a ba-donkadonk, she had a uni-donkadonk.
2) She was a siamese-twin who had recent separation surgery and has not yet bought new clothes.

-Watched the Final Four games last night in a bar near campus with friends. Congrats to Butler, whose coach and star player look so young that I am afraid watching the game in HD is grounds for child porn charges. And cheers to Duke as well! At one point, Mike Plumlee and Kyle Singler combined for a two person dunk. Now that we have that answer, I wonder how many awkward white guys it takes to screw in a light bulb?

Anyway, thanks so much for reading, and I hope that wherever you are is as beautiful as New York City. Have an amazing Easter Sunday!

Circus Freak Show April Fools

You know that your friends have low expectations when an April Fools post on pissing yourself for the sake of a workout results in multiple people just nodding and thinking that is normal. Hey guys, I DID NOT EMPTY MY BLADDER IN MY PANTS. It was meant to be a prank, but in the process revealed that I can do just about anything and get away with it if I justify my actions with athletics. Why did I steal candy from that baby? I NEEDED THE LITTLE SHIT'S ICE CREAM CONE AS FUEL! How does you butt look in those jeans? IT LOOKS DISGUSTING, CELLULITE IS NOT AERODYNAMIC!

Anyway, that made me smile. So yesterday I had my final thesis presentation, and the entire project is behind me! With a law school decision imminent, the last couple months as a college student will be easier than working as a Clash of the Titans screenwriter (RELEASE THE DRAGON!!!). As celebration, I got out in Central Park to enjoy the beautiful weather. It was time to bring the Poundtown show on the road! After 5 laps (about 30 miles) never dropping below the 54-15, I transitioned into an easy 8 mile run along the Hudson River. Notably, I was wearing the most ridiculous outfit in the universe: short tri-shorts, no shirt, white sunglasses, and a pair of headphones reserved for a WWII fighter-pilot. My proudest moment was when a girl on campus did a double take, and nearly fell over a blowing trash-bag. I am telling myself she just wanted another look at the glistening Adonis running by, but in reality my lack of a tan means it was probably more similar to someone paying admission to the circus freak show. LOOK, IT'S ALBINO BOY! (/trips)


Things are really terrific though; I love spending time with my awesome friends and meeting new people in the New York City spring. Also, I learned today that I can ride a bike without handlebars. I'm not saying that's a big deal, but this circus freak show is charging TWICE the admission from now on.

April Showers

Chappelle's Show
R. Kelly's "Piss on You" Music Videos
www.comedycentral.com
Buy Chappelle's Show DVDs Black Comedy True Hollywood Story

Finally back to consistent training this week, and I was able to get to Central Park in nice weather for a speed workout to kick off April! Central Park was shimmering in the sunlight, and it was an amazing experience. I care about a few things---beauty in everyday life, helping others, and pushing myself physically are some of the more prominent----and I would do almost anything for someone/something I care about. Because today's speed workout fell into the third category listed above, it stands to reason that I would go to great lengths to avoid delaying the exercise. Now remember, it was warm today and I was soaked with sweat after the 5 mile warm-up tempo (5:40 pace). As I was sidling up for my first mile repetition, I felt the need.....the need for pee. This was urgent---I had three options:

1. Run to the nearest bathroom, ruining the recovery period before the repetition, and in the process disrespecting my father. When I was just a young urinator, Papa Roche would sit me on his knee, put on his reading glasses, and tell me to listen up, "Son, when you have to pee, the world is your bathroom."

2. Run to the nearest tree, risking a public urination charge due to exposing myself in front of a particularly prudish squirrel.

3. Piss myself.

Of course, I wouldn't be telling this story if the answer wasn't three. While that may be construed as disgusting, it is important to remember that it was pouring rain and I was soaked anyway. Also, pee is sterile. And tasty. Tim Tebow just pisses in some plastic and they call it "Lemon Gatorade".

The other thing that you need to know is that I just did it because I care. As I said above, I care about athletics, but I also care about changing the world. I care about others too. As I showed today, I will go to great lengths for someone/something I care about. In other words, my new pick-up line:

"Girl, I would piss myself for you."

Damn, that is deep. Feel free to use it as wedding vowels, or possibly a bumper sticker. While making R. Kelly proud is a pleasant byproduct of my newest and most innovative public urination technique, this is just a small part of my pissing resume. When there is less sweat to blur the pee stains of decency, we must be more discreet. Near a car or other edifice that is slightly concealed, go to one knee and feign shoe-tieing/tire-checking. No one will look twice as a pool forms beneath you. Note: NEVER PEE UP A SLOPE! Disclaimer: Do not attempt if female.

So there you have it, folks. Do April showers bring May flowers? I'm not sure, but after today's workout, I GOT THE FIRST PART COVERED.

Training:
5 mile tempo warm-up, 3x1 mile with 1 mile recovery jogs, 4 mile fast cool down