*I fixed it.
The world must be told.
Wednesday, January 12, 2005
I ran the Rock N' Roll Arizona Marathon on Sunday morning.
I imagine that the way I went about it was the usual way people decide to run marathons.
I was driving home from a night of drinking and dancing at 8 o'clock Saturday morning. I was listening to the radio when I heard an announcement for the marathon the next day. One of my New Year's Resolutions was to run a marathon. I had planned to run one I had heard about in six months. After all, I don't run very much or at all so it seemed like a good time frame to give myself.
As I was driving and listening to the advertisement, it occurred to me that I don't even like to run. Why should I draw out six months of annoying training when I could just run one now and get it over with? Sure, I was untrained, but the reason most people don't finish marathons (besides giving up) is because they aggravate injuries that they received during their training.
Having had no training, I had no injuries. Plus, I'd never run anywhere near the 26.2 miles in a marathon so I had no idea what I was getting into. I saw both as an advantage.
I went down to the Health and Fitness Expo where I could sign up. I registered, and got my race number. An old gentleman marked my name down as Gunther Lopez and I liked it so much I didn't ask him to change it. I meandered about the expo sampling free energy drinks, power foods, and since I was still a little hung-over I gladly accepted a cup of low-carp beer. Finally, I purchased some non-blistering socks that were red and black and had pirate skulls on them and I was on my way.
I woke up the next morning at 4:30 in the morning. I showered, dressed in my running shorts and a soccer shirt, put tape over my nipples to prevent chafing, threw on my albatross necklace, ate a couple pieces of bread, grabbed my keys and drove to the event.
The race began at 7:40 am. As I ran the first few miles, I tried to form a strategy: "Let's see, a lot of people are weaving around other people to pass them. Over the course of 26 miles, all this lateral movement is going to add up. Also, since my body isn't used to high-sugar foods, I should avoid those flavored energy gels that people are eating because it will just cause me to cramp. Another thing I should be aware of-OH MY GOD IS THAT LADY GIVING OUT GOLDFISH CRACKERS?!"
She gave me two handfuls and I ran happily along munching on my goldfish crackers.
There was a lot of food at the race. I was ravenously hungry when I began but along the way I consumed orange slices, bananas, M&M's, gummy bears, pretzels, and all sorts of high-energy delights.
When I was running with the banana I had to restrain my desire to hurl it at the runners ahead of me Mario-karat style. Maybe next marathon.
I was feeling pretty good until about mile 18. At mile 20, my left knee began to throb and I could no longer feel my right arm. At mile 23, I broke down and started walking. My no-lateral-movement plan was in full effect. Not so much by choice, but because my muscles were so fatigued I could only move forward. The route headed down a slight incline which I welcomed at first. Alas, the miniscule added tug of gravity nearly caused me to fall three separate times.
I began to run again at mile 24. My left leg felt like a piece of wood with a nail in it where my knee should have been. It really wasn't until then that I began to question the intelligence of my decision.
I crossed the finish line with a time of 5 hours and fifty minutes. I got a medal, a little blanket to keep me from cooling down to quickly, and a nice lady gave me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and some Gatorade.
It made it all worth it.
Out of the 11,475 people that ran the marathon, 7,365 finished. And I'm proud to say that one of those 7,365 people was a young man named Gunther Lopez.
I imagine that the way I went about it was the usual way people decide to run marathons.
I was driving home from a night of drinking and dancing at 8 o'clock Saturday morning. I was listening to the radio when I heard an announcement for the marathon the next day. One of my New Year's Resolutions was to run a marathon. I had planned to run one I had heard about in six months. After all, I don't run very much or at all so it seemed like a good time frame to give myself.
As I was driving and listening to the advertisement, it occurred to me that I don't even like to run. Why should I draw out six months of annoying training when I could just run one now and get it over with? Sure, I was untrained, but the reason most people don't finish marathons (besides giving up) is because they aggravate injuries that they received during their training.
Having had no training, I had no injuries. Plus, I'd never run anywhere near the 26.2 miles in a marathon so I had no idea what I was getting into. I saw both as an advantage.
I went down to the Health and Fitness Expo where I could sign up. I registered, and got my race number. An old gentleman marked my name down as Gunther Lopez and I liked it so much I didn't ask him to change it. I meandered about the expo sampling free energy drinks, power foods, and since I was still a little hung-over I gladly accepted a cup of low-carp beer. Finally, I purchased some non-blistering socks that were red and black and had pirate skulls on them and I was on my way.
I woke up the next morning at 4:30 in the morning. I showered, dressed in my running shorts and a soccer shirt, put tape over my nipples to prevent chafing, threw on my albatross necklace, ate a couple pieces of bread, grabbed my keys and drove to the event.
The race began at 7:40 am. As I ran the first few miles, I tried to form a strategy: "Let's see, a lot of people are weaving around other people to pass them. Over the course of 26 miles, all this lateral movement is going to add up. Also, since my body isn't used to high-sugar foods, I should avoid those flavored energy gels that people are eating because it will just cause me to cramp. Another thing I should be aware of-OH MY GOD IS THAT LADY GIVING OUT GOLDFISH CRACKERS?!"
She gave me two handfuls and I ran happily along munching on my goldfish crackers.
There was a lot of food at the race. I was ravenously hungry when I began but along the way I consumed orange slices, bananas, M&M's, gummy bears, pretzels, and all sorts of high-energy delights.
When I was running with the banana I had to restrain my desire to hurl it at the runners ahead of me Mario-karat style. Maybe next marathon.
I was feeling pretty good until about mile 18. At mile 20, my left knee began to throb and I could no longer feel my right arm. At mile 23, I broke down and started walking. My no-lateral-movement plan was in full effect. Not so much by choice, but because my muscles were so fatigued I could only move forward. The route headed down a slight incline which I welcomed at first. Alas, the miniscule added tug of gravity nearly caused me to fall three separate times.
I began to run again at mile 24. My left leg felt like a piece of wood with a nail in it where my knee should have been. It really wasn't until then that I began to question the intelligence of my decision.
I crossed the finish line with a time of 5 hours and fifty minutes. I got a medal, a little blanket to keep me from cooling down to quickly, and a nice lady gave me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and some Gatorade.
It made it all worth it.
Out of the 11,475 people that ran the marathon, 7,365 finished. And I'm proud to say that one of those 7,365 people was a young man named Gunther Lopez.
Wednesday, January 05, 2005
"So how is it?"
"How's what?"
"What do you think? Being a Neutral Good. How is it?"
"It's all right, I guess."
"Hey, that's cool. Here, I got you this road sign."
"Thank you, but I don't own a road."
"Pssh. And you never will; not with that attitude."
NOW IT'S TIME FOR...
Foreign Holidays of Little-Known-nes!
Tomorrow is the 6th of January, Three King's Day. In Mexico, gifts are given on this day in emulation of the three kings that visited baby Jesus. Besides the difference in date, there is another notable discrepancy: The number of gifts is often limited to three.
Mexican parents justify this to their children by telling them that kings are too lazy to carry more than one gift. Another popular rationalization is that kings only have one hand free for gift-carrying because the other hand is busy oppressing peasants.
It is also common for the number of combined gifts to total less than three. In the event the child is foolish enough to cite the historical precedent of three gifts, the child will be scolded for equating themselves to baby Jesus, told that in any case Jesus probably kept his room clean, and to go clean up the kitchen.
If the child is particularly foolish and points out to his parents that they did, in fact, name him Jesus, (pronounced 'hay-soos' in Mehico) the boy will promptly be visited by the three kings of "Ain't-No-Child-Protective-Services-In-This-Country-Smart-Guy."
And that is why so many native Mexicans risk their lives to come to this great country of ours where there is no cap on present-giving and smart-ass children are treasured and revered.
I'm pretty sure that's why I'm here.
"How's what?"
"What do you think? Being a Neutral Good. How is it?"
"It's all right, I guess."
"Hey, that's cool. Here, I got you this road sign."
"Thank you, but I don't own a road."
"Pssh. And you never will; not with that attitude."
NOW IT'S TIME FOR...
Foreign Holidays of Little-Known-nes!
Tomorrow is the 6th of January, Three King's Day. In Mexico, gifts are given on this day in emulation of the three kings that visited baby Jesus. Besides the difference in date, there is another notable discrepancy: The number of gifts is often limited to three.
Mexican parents justify this to their children by telling them that kings are too lazy to carry more than one gift. Another popular rationalization is that kings only have one hand free for gift-carrying because the other hand is busy oppressing peasants.
It is also common for the number of combined gifts to total less than three. In the event the child is foolish enough to cite the historical precedent of three gifts, the child will be scolded for equating themselves to baby Jesus, told that in any case Jesus probably kept his room clean, and to go clean up the kitchen.
If the child is particularly foolish and points out to his parents that they did, in fact, name him Jesus, (pronounced 'hay-soos' in Mehico) the boy will promptly be visited by the three kings of "Ain't-No-Child-Protective-Services-In-This-Country-Smart-Guy."
And that is why so many native Mexicans risk their lives to come to this great country of ours where there is no cap on present-giving and smart-ass children are treasured and revered.
I'm pretty sure that's why I'm here.
Sunday, January 02, 2005
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| You scored as Neutral Good. A Neutral Good person tries to do the 'goodest' thing possible. These people are willing to work with the law to accomplish their goal, but if the law is corrupt they are just as willing to tear it down. To these people, doing what's right is the most important thing, regardless of rules, customs, or laws.
What is your Alignment? created with QuizFarm.com |
Friday, December 31, 2004
Guillermo V. The Corporate Lifestyle (Part 17)
The past couple days have been interesting. I've been coming to terms with two painful facts: I am horribly unhealthy AND I am actually becoming engrossed in my work.
I think that's why I'm subconsciously trying to get fired.
We had a "secret Santa" before the holidays. My present didn't come in time, but I got it yesterday.
It was a StrongBad t-shirt.
I whooped and hollered, hugged my friend Ryan who gave it to me, then I put on the shirt over my long-sleeved button-up shirt. I glared about, trying to look menacing, daring anyone to bring up the fact that Wednesdays are not "Casual Fridays."
No one said anything.
I wore my StrongBad shirt over my work clothes for the rest of the day. I was not bothered by any of my superiors.
I didn't expect them to. A mere half-hour earlier, during break, I had been jumping through puddles in the rain and my kakhi pants were completely soaked.
Today, I was sitting on the floor trying to take apart my desk. I failed miserably. I should have expected failure. The desk had survived many a mail clerk before me and will certainly survive many after me.
However, I managed to get a lot of thick, black grease all over my face and hands. I left it on.
I looked like a rogue mechanic on the warpath.
Again, I got a few odd looks but not a single reprimand.
Which leads me to the conclusion that either I can get away with whatever I want...or nothing I do really matters.
Either way, it should be interesting.
I guess only time will tell. That or my inter-office e-mail.
I hate insurance.
The past couple days have been interesting. I've been coming to terms with two painful facts: I am horribly unhealthy AND I am actually becoming engrossed in my work.
I think that's why I'm subconsciously trying to get fired.
We had a "secret Santa" before the holidays. My present didn't come in time, but I got it yesterday.
It was a StrongBad t-shirt.
I whooped and hollered, hugged my friend Ryan who gave it to me, then I put on the shirt over my long-sleeved button-up shirt. I glared about, trying to look menacing, daring anyone to bring up the fact that Wednesdays are not "Casual Fridays."
No one said anything.
I wore my StrongBad shirt over my work clothes for the rest of the day. I was not bothered by any of my superiors.
I didn't expect them to. A mere half-hour earlier, during break, I had been jumping through puddles in the rain and my kakhi pants were completely soaked.
Today, I was sitting on the floor trying to take apart my desk. I failed miserably. I should have expected failure. The desk had survived many a mail clerk before me and will certainly survive many after me.
However, I managed to get a lot of thick, black grease all over my face and hands. I left it on.
I looked like a rogue mechanic on the warpath.
Again, I got a few odd looks but not a single reprimand.
Which leads me to the conclusion that either I can get away with whatever I want...or nothing I do really matters.
Either way, it should be interesting.
I guess only time will tell. That or my inter-office e-mail.
I hate insurance.
Tuesday, December 28, 2004
Right now, in Philadelphia, more than 10,000 literature scholars are gathered for the Convention of the Modern Language Association which began yesterday.
Right now, in Philadelphia, more than 10,000 literature scholars are terrorizing bars across the city, swarming upon bartenders like a plague of locusts, only literature scholars are more annoying than locusts because they'll get too drunk to stand upright and still try to correct your grammar.
How I envy them.
Not that I have significant reason to. (Heh, I just ended with a sentence with a preposition; howd'ya like that?!) The night before Christmans Eve marked the beginning of the end of my hermit streak I'd been setting since the end of the semester. Now, with my ears still ringing from loud music and eyes red from lack of sleep, I'm almost glad to settle down into a regular work week.
Then again, Sibbitt made me a gift of a Cuban cigar he acquired on his travels (the kind old man Hemingway smoked) and a bottle of homemade apple brandy. If anyone would like to share a good cigar and get drunk (or as the MLA might say, get literary,) I shan't be far.
What a wonderful time of year.
Thursday, December 23, 2004
I've been out advocating Capitalism this holiday season along with millions across the world. It's quite magical.
Well, it's been interesting, at least.
Whenever I buy a book I puzzle over the disparity in prices between the United States and Canada. Why do Canadians get charged so much more?
I'm certain that someday Canada will publish a book so amazing that everyone will have to have it and then the literary tables will be turned; the price for Canadians will be a mere $2.75, but in the US the book will be sold for no less than $20 and a written apology. At least.
Well, it's been interesting, at least.
Whenever I buy a book I puzzle over the disparity in prices between the United States and Canada. Why do Canadians get charged so much more?
I'm certain that someday Canada will publish a book so amazing that everyone will have to have it and then the literary tables will be turned; the price for Canadians will be a mere $2.75, but in the US the book will be sold for no less than $20 and a written apology. At least.
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