Fairmount Park Turkey Trot 5-Miler Race Report

Executive Summary:
1st overall in 25:38. At the start line, the race director asked who would finish first, and a runner to my right raised his hand. First of all, dude, I wasn't wearing a shirt, which either means I think I am fast or I'm doing an active study break for the indecent exposure statutes of Criminal Law. Second, don't think I will hesitate to use these nipples for evil. At this temperature, I could cut you just by deciding to turn sideways.

Artist's depiction. I am erotically patriotic.

Pre-Race:
Thanksgiving break...you know what that means! Passive aggression mixed with the unique awkwardness of forgetting a family member's name. "Hey girl," you say sexily, "I give thanks for those jeans." (/winks)

"Hi David. I'm your second cousin."

"Ummmm....I meant those genes. What did you think I meant?
/turns on football game

True fact: extended family is the only reason anyone ever watches the Lions. It's like a game of peak-a-boo with a super ugly partner and 364 days of not peeking. Anyway, traveled to Philadelphia with Nose Hair the Magnificent (my dad). The "special person" from the previous post was there, and surprisingly she is not the type of "special" that runs into mirrors inadvertently and/or watches Fox News unironically.

Like the media, reality has a well-known liberal bias.

A quick shirt removal post warm-up and I was ready to go. As the gun sounded, you could tell who was born and raised in West Philadelphia because half the field ducked. Hopefully they have an understanding auntie and uncle in Bel Air. AND THEY'RE OFF.

Race:
I ran with the cocky guy for the first 800 meters. He was wearing arm warmers---from the plethora of forearm garments among the racers I have come to the conclusion that it is Elbow Hypothermia Awareness Month. Feeling great, I looked around and decided it was time to go. After getting a nice lead, a cylist appeared. "You're Dave Roche?" "Yeah!" "I can tell from your shirt." Oh, good burn cyclist...good burn. Apparently my humps and/or my lovely lady lumps have a following.
(the cyclist is Matt Hayes, who was/is awesome)

Bounding into the lead, I hit the halfway with a solid gap. Energized by the beauty of the moment, I started the second half. I try to control my thoughts when running solo--today, I mixed "Wagon Wheel" by Old Crow Medicine Show with thoughts of Megan, because I want any blog readers with musical taste or masculine sensibilities to cringe in disgust. Hey guys, WHO WANTS SOME POMEGRANATE FRO-YO FOR THE TAYLOR SWIFT CONCERT???



Matt was amazing as a lead bike (seriously, I give thanks for people as selfless and kind as him). He cleared the course like Ronald Reagan parting the Red Sea. Don't check my math, or you will ruin the trickle-down Conservative narrative. I mean, the narrative is full of pictures of yachts that pop-up ALL BY THEMSELVES.

John Hinkley was really fooled by the sweet moose impression.

Running past the crowd in the last few hundred yards, the words of encouragement were simultaneously exhilarating and humbling. Chills radiated down my spine and into my legs, my gratitude to be alive at this one moment in time manifesting itself in an acceleration to the finish. Crossing the line in 25:38 with a few minute win (as far as I can tell a course record), it was clear that Thanksgiving isn't a temporal, yearly reflection on joy. No, Thanksgiving is hugging someone you are close to at a finish line, or a selfless act of kindness by a cyclist, or the first snow falling softly on the nape of your neck. For those moments, and for all of those daily miracles that stretch to infinity, I am thankful.

Beauty

To a very special person--today, I give thanks for Beauty.

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Poetry has always been an elusive art that I respect intellectually, but view through the opaque lens of skepticism. "Emotion does not necessitate rhetorical gymnastics to be expressive," I thought. Now though, for the first time in my life, I could see how that would be different. For the first time in my life I can see how that opaque lens of skepticism would gain translucence.

The beauty I often speak of, and for which this blog is named, is universal and ubiquitous in a way that is unceasingly sublime. And through the new lens, this new perspective, the enduring light of universal beauty has been focused in a way that is difficult to describe. Even with philosophy...even with vocabulary, I don't think I can articulate the emotion.

"But maybe," he thinks, "With just a bit of thought, a poem would work."

Awesome News and Picture Celebration

Note: I changed the awesome news into a game of Mad Libs because I am not 100% sure about protocol with these sorts of things.

It was 70 and sunny today in North Carolina. I freaking love this weather, primarily because I feel the same way about snow that I do about baseball--I like them as ideas, but in practice they are miserable and filled with white people. That being said, I would drop that idea in a second for a chance to be in the wonderland of Colorado, even though it has the market cornered on both snow and white people. With that out of the way, today's awesomely exciting announcement: I will be working in Boulder next summer!

In a stroke of good fortune, [noun] has a(n) [adjective] office in the Rocky Mountains, and they are amazing people who are changing the world. "But why did they hire you?" you may ask, sounding strangely like my driving school instructor (who I could never impress, even though they obviously call it a bumper for a reason). "I'll tell you why," I may respond, visibly shaking from an attempt to parallel park. Ummmm.....actually, I'm not sure. Perhaps it was the enthusiasm embodied by my willingness to sleep my way to the top if called upon by such an amazing organization. If nothing else, that would have given a whole new meaning to the aforementioned stroke of good fortune. PLAY ME OFF, KEYBOARD CAT.



Anyway, I celebrated today by doing a long run on Duke's Al Buehler Trail, with nothing but a camera and, after a week without shaving, what can only be described as a five o'clock shadow of leg hair. BECAUSE I DON'T GIVE A SHIT.

Freud would say it's a sexual metaphor. I hear his mom is pretty hot.

PRETENTIOUS ARTSY CAPTION.

Parting of the leaves. PUN-TASTIC FIVE!
/slaps own hand
//looks around empty apartment
///sobs

There's a few more self-indulgent, dismissive wankfest worthy pictures on Facebook if you are at all interested. Friend me if you'd like!--the link is on my Blogger profile. At times like this, contemplating the past and future simultaneously, it is clear that my true good fortune is the people in my life. For that, and for reading, I thank you from the bottom of my heart.

A Marathon and Relativity

Time continues its inexorable march. I guess that is one universal constant, at least for everyone on Earth. If you are close to a supermassive black-hole, things might be different--that being said, not many of us get the privilege of being anywhere near Dick Cheney's soul on a daily basis.*

*Statement not valid if you are a crypt-keeper, or a minion of Lucifer**

**(Republican-AZ)

As clarification, this is the crypt-keeper. Though I hear TLC is trying to sign Beelzebub to a TV deal.

The march through time brings highs that necessitate lows, and nearly room temperatures that necessitate almost, but not quite lukewarms. This weekend, and this time in my life generally, is an example of that relativity with which we evaluate our experiences, ourselves, and our abilities to parallel park (Evaluation: A, B, and OH MY GOD WHAT DID THAT BUMPER/CAR/SMALL CHILD DO TO DESERVE THAT, respectively). It all started with a Saturday morning marathon. Now, I am not ready for a marathon. I never will be ready for a marathon. My children will probably be allergic to Snickers Marathon candy bars. And their children will likely crash their flying Segway at a Marathon Gas Station/Teleportation Supply Store.

A willow tree silhouetted by the sun, taken just before our cyclist passed me the baton. MY TESTOSTERONE COULD FILL A GRAIN SILO.

But as a favor to a friend, I ran the relay leg marathon in the Beach 2 Battleship Ironman Triathlon. The tantric root canal was accompanied by a moment when I was waiting in line at a porta-potty while eating a Chocolate energy gel. I feel as if that was the point I decided to reevaluate my life, because if I had waited just another minute to get to the front of the line before opening the gel, I probably would have winked out of existence in a matter/anti-matter collision. And no hound dog wants to go while sitting on the toilet.

His hair was also a bomb shelter.

Anyway, I decided to turn it into a long run, stopping at each aid station to drink, and my body still reacted with a trip to the med tent due to low blood pressure after crossing the line first. On a 2:32 pace at the 3/4 mark (out and back, out and back course), I walked in while fighting full body cramps. But we won! And I set the course record by 20 minutes! Plus I'm uninjured because of all the walking! Moreover, I CAN'T BELIEVE IT'S NOT BUTTER! Granted, after the porta-potty trip, I'm not sure I want to know exactly what it is.

Contrasting that experience with the rest of life, however, it is immediately evident that things are relatively awesome. The next day I explored Eno River with an amazing girl (I don't think she is imaginary, because my imagination is not that talented), enjoying every moment in a way that I couldn't comprehend 24 hours before. And I guess that's the moral of the story--whether extraneous or self-inflicted, life is full of valleys that can plunge into the very abyss of questioning the act of living itself. But juxtaposed next to those valleys are soaring mountains. What is unceasingly exciting, what is relatively awesome, is that those mountains are around us every day, if we just know where to look.

Is he trying to say that there is cocaine under the water??

So things are great! Last night I had dinner with John and Patricia Adams, world-changing founders of the Natural Resources Defense Council--their brilliance, enthusiasm, and advice are great reminders of why I am in law school. As for law school....well, I am pretty sure the day after that marathon is going to be awesome too.

Realistic Change (A Law School Jam)

In United States v. Virginia, the Supreme Court ruled that VMI must integrate women into its student body. The lone horseman in dissent was Justice Antonin Scalia, kicking the spurs with rhetoric that pervades Constitutional argument:

"The all-male composition of [VMI] is essential to that's institution's character."

"That system is destroyed if the smug assurances of each age are removed from the democratic process and written into the Constitution."

He continues, invoking history and precedent to support VMI's policy of exclusion. So it goes for most social issues, from women's rights to gay rights. My in-class response was uncharacteristically passionate, and describes my objection:

This history was founded in an era, and a society, where women were rarely afforded the opportunity to be anything more than kitchen appliances. If an "institution's character" lays on a foundation of such disgraceful precedent, then perceived benefits are nothing more than a wolf in sheep's clothing, and serve to perpetuate the disgusting legacy of gender inequality.

I do not think Justice Scalia is a bad person; however, many of his decisions are those of a bad person (albeit an outstanding lawyer). Based on the words of agreement from classmates the rest of the day, I decided to elaborate on the purpose of law as I see it:

Law as an ambiguous external force is nothing but a false assurance that promises impartial governance while propagating cultural conservatism and social stagnancy. Nowhere is this more true than in the civil rights battles of the 1960s, women's rights since, and gay rights in the future. Yes, there is no direct precedent for gay marriage, just as there was no precedent for desegregating schools. No, formalistic adherence to abstract principles of law cannot be allowed to obstruct the realism of social change. And while overturning the precedent of bigots is no longer controversial--it once was. That history, that precedent, is reprehensible on every level of the shared human experience. Opposing cultural liberalism, opposing social progression, is inherently reprehensible whenever it degrades people for any immutable characteristic of being. And if precedent--if history--opposes positive change....well, fuck precedent, fuck history, and fuck Justice Scalia.

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Awkward transition ostrich makes an appearance.

Anyway, very exciting weekend planned, but it will be a surprise. Primarily because you can never be sure if the stripper will be alive when she exits the cake. Hope things are great guys!

Eve Carson 5k Race Report

Executive Summary:
2nd overall in 15:17. It was 45 and raining, so I spent the last two miles of the race debating if this was the moment I should let go of the door and tell Rose I love her.

I am sorry Jack, letting your type up here would diminish property values.

Pre-Race:
I lost many electrolytes this week from pitiful sobbing. The sobbing started whenever I realized that every lost Democratic Congressional seat was a vote for climate change legislation. Barack Obama sobbed a bit too, but wherever his tears hit the ground, a fully formed apple tree appeared.

Ugh, women. AMIRITE??

But running has been swell! So I signed up for the Eve Carson Memorial 5k, a race with a heart-wrenching history that attracts a couple thousand runners. Leaving the apartment, the mercury read 41, and there was steady rain. "Awesome!" I thought in my race-day rose-colored goggles, "it is sweating FOR ME!" Other optimistic takes on weather:

Snow: Today, I'm dandruff free. It's clinical strength precipitation!

Extreme Heat: A great philosopher once said that when conditions are like this in herrre, we should promptly remove our wardrobes.

Frogs and/or blood: It shows how much He cares!

Warming-up was not really happening, but I was content because I took my pre-race pee against the side of the Dean Dome. All I have to do now is wait for the inflatable, ergonomically-designed Coach K doll to arrive from Ebay, and I will officially be a Duke student! My collar just popped in anticipation.

Tucker Whiskerman III just completed his application! HE LOVES LACROSSE.

Lined up, saw good friend/awesome runner Alex Varner, and wished him luck while secretly hoping he was prone to debilitating cold-weather cramps. Waited in the rain, lost most evidence of having a Y chromosome, AND THEY'RE OFF!

Race:
The course was nicely rolling, with a long downhill to start. At that point, running fast provided freedom from the fear that my fingers would freeze, and from the fear that I would experience brain damage causing me to use alliteration unwittingly. I opened up the race immediately, and gained 20 yards on the pack of ice-people. At the second turn, I water-jumped what I imagine was the Caspian Sea while wishing that my amazing geography skills translated to knowing where the hell I was on the course. Luckily, Alex handsomed up alongside me just before the mile mark, and led me through the more complex neighborhoods.

Our race photographer captured the course well.

After another descent, the road kicked up sharply for a half-mile. My cardiovascular system felt wonderful, but my legs labored at Alex's fast pace. Luckily, we crested the hill only 5 yards apart and I fell in control back to his hip. At this point, I was hoping to just stay with him until 600 meters to go, because I knew my kick would be stronger. But he was just better. A yard became two, which became ten and finally twenty, until by the crest of a hill at mile 2.5, he had a 10 second lead. Meanwhile, I started hallucinating from what I can only assume was advanced hypothermia. "Is that philosophy building made of wood?? IT WOULD MAKE EXCELLENT KINDLING." Of course, I should have gone through with the plan because it would have made me warm, and would have been the basis of my award-winning dissertation, "Not to Be".

Bullshitting ain't easy.

Back to reality, I succumbed to Alex's superior strength and held a 10-15 second gap to the finish. It was a really fun race for an amazing cause, and the weather allowed me to wear my Mickey Mouse on a surfboard t-shirt. In addition to being what my dad wore to his wedding in 1977 (true story), I feel as if Mickey in swim trunks provided just the cognitive dissonance boost I needed. SUCK ON THAT, other racers.

Thanks for reading guys. Hope things are great!

So Much for the Afterglow

I am alive! In other news that makes me different than the Democratic Party, things are pretty great. Though perhaps the good times are limited, because we all know that happiness is a hoax perpetrated by liberal elites, just like hope and the idea that gay people have souls. My dramatic imagining of a typical far right-wing thought process while watching Social Network:

This is Michigan Assistant Attorney General Andrew Shirvell (Google him to if you would like to see a piece of live-action performance art), he will be our movie-goer.

Good heavens, why do I get these tingly feelings whenever Justin Timberlake shows up on the screen?

I wonder if that guy in the seat over there will be going to the bathroom during the movie? Follow-up question: has he heard of Larry Craig?

OH GOD, WHAT HAVE I BEEN THINKING? I hate myself. No, I hate other people. You know what else sucks? THE ENVIRONMENT. Hey panda! (points at little girl in front row) FUCK YOU!

GIT ERRRR DOOONNE.

It has been done gotten.

Ahhh, that was catharctic. And I apologize. Political discussion is one very tiny step above poop-flinging on the scale of primate-communication, and I will refrain from further comments. Unless California overturned the Global Warming Solutions Act.
(checks news)
(prop 23 rejected)
WOOOOO! America is not crazy, and the bill is still in place!
(hugs imaginary friends)
(cops a feel)
(imaginary friends are HERNIA-FREE!)

Anyway, fall is the season of change, and unlike Barack Obama (whose autumns have gone from "Yes We Can" to "Maybe we might" to "Fuck all y'all"), my fall has been awesome. First, Halloween--the time of the year when the costumes are skimpy and the candy is often razor blade-free. I went as "Tour de Franzia", where I was a box of wine with bike clothes.

I am BY FAR the worst athlete in this photo.

I was drinking wine before that picture. It is an allegory for America's cannibalistic culture. FREE TIBET! (sniffs own fart)

After a late night on Friday, I raced on Saturday! Patrick Reaves, a 52 minute 10-miler, also toed the line. His game face was on. He was serious. I was serious as well, but primarily about not puking on his shoes. The course was a hilly 5k over Al Buelher trail, and we ran together until I kicked with about 500 meters to go for a 17 second win. He was an awesome guy and an awesome competitor....as well as awesomely handsome. Oh dear, that must be the wine talking....
(winks)
(has dehydration-induced face cramp)
(this is not very different from my winking)

Afterward I watched an exceptional girl play field hockey, which was so much fun. This was primarily because I had no freaking clue what was going on. Based on my ignorance and what I gathered watching a certain person play, the best way to determine the winner would be by who looks best in a skirt. This also works for football, but requires a slightly more active imagination.

Male Ref: Do you know what is going on?
Woman Ref: Fuck no.
Duke players: Touchdown?

So things are good! Colorado went (mostly) democratic, which is huge for the practice of environmental law over the next few years. As much as I joke around about politics, time is running out for significant environmental reform. Cascading feedback cycles cannot be allowed to turn the Earth into a planet that is spoken about with a wistful recollection of the past rather than a hopeful eye to the future. I just hope that political shit-tossing does not stand in the way of change.