If you are a runner, the October 2005 Runner’s World had a good intro article on “blogging for runners.” Unfortunately, the Runner’s World website sucks and doesn’t seem to include the full magazine, so if you want to read the article, you’ll have to buy the print edition (or be a more patient searcher than I am). The best part of the article was that it highlighted several active runners’ blogs, including Alison Wade, David Bray, and Joan Nesbit Mabe (an elite master’s runner who blogs). Their feeds are now in NewsGator Online in my “Running” folder and will serve as additional daily motivation to get my ass out there.
I’ve often wondered why the makers of online training software (my newest toy is Motion Based – more after I’ve used it for a few weeks) don’t include a “blog / public diary” capability. Oh well – enough “thinking” about running – time to go do it.
Ah – we’re back in the land of 24 screen movie theaters so our Friday night movie is no longer limited to two choices. However, almost all the movies out right now are crap (you know you are in trouble when the #1 movie last weekend was The 40–Year-Old Virgin) so we decided to give Transporter 2 a try.
We loved the original Transporter – it was definitely a sleeper and Jason Statham was – well – the British Vin Diesel. Frank (Jason) and his rules are back, the evil bad girl is super hot (although a horrifyingly bad shot), and the eastern European villain-scientists are bad news, but doofuses. The action / adventure / car chases / shoot–em-ups are great and – with the exception of a few scenes – I managed to suspend my disbelief for the better part of 90 minutes.
It’s not as good as the first one, but it took my mind off cancer, New Orleans, and other bad things for a couple of hours.
My friend Dave Jilk just sent me several examples of Julian Beever’s incredible 3D sidewalk art. Wow!
We’re back in Boulder after two months at sea level. My first run of the fall was a bitch – a minute a mile slower than at sea level. Altitude really does matter. But – it was a beautiful one on Dowdy Draw in the mountains just outside of Boulder. Altitude, dirt, rocks, bright blue sky, altitude, cows (which normally I’m scared of, but these were very polite and got out of my way), cow shit, sweat, and altitude.
It’s good to be home. August was my best running month of the year since January so I’m finally confident that I’m over the nagging injuries I’ve had all year.
I just had a run where I used up 100% of what I had. I had a great run yesterday (1:15) in Anchorage on the Tony Knowles Coastal Trail. I decided to go 1:30 today on The Homer Spit and ended up going 1:45. I was DONE when I was done. I came home, took a shower, and laid down in bed. Two hours later I got up. My eyes are puffy. I feel completely zoned out. It’s a wonderful thing. Highly recommended.
During the aforementioned run, I listened to a couple of Coverville podcasts (my current favorite show – fortunately there’s 125 or so out so I’ve got plenty to catch up on) on my iPod Shuffle. I was about 4 miles into my run when an incredibly haunting version the Boomtown Rats’ “I Don’t Like Mondays” came on. This is Tori Amos at her absolute best, singing one of my favorite songs, in a way that makes you feel like you were almost there when 16 year old Brenda Ann Spencer opened fire on an elementary school across the street from her San Diego house in 1979 (ok – maybe it was that I was 4 miles into a run that – well – cooked my brain.)
Bonus tracks on this podcast include Lyle Lovett covering the Grateful Dead’s “Friend of the Devil” and Alanis Morissette covering the Police’s “King of Pain.” For those of you that want to sing along, here are the lyrics.
The silicon chip inside her head
Gets switched to overload.
And nobody’s gonna go to school today,
She’s going to make them stay at home.
And daddy doesn’t understand it,
He always said she was as good as gold.
And he can see no reason
‘Cause there are no reasons
What reason do you need to be shown?
Tell me why? I don’t like Mondays.
Tell me why? I don’t like Mondays.
Tell me why? I don’t like Mondays.
I want to shoot the whole day down.
The telex machine is kept so clean
As it types to a waiting world.
And mother feels so shocked,
Father’s world is rocked,
And their thoughts turn to
Their own little girl.
Sweet 16 ain’t so peachy keen,
No, it ain’t so neat to admit defeat.
They can see no reasons
‘Cause there are no reasons
What reason do you need to be shown?
Tell me why? I don’t like Mondays.
Tell me why? I don’t like Mondays.
Tell me why? I don’t like Mondays.
I want to shoot the whole day down.
All the playing’s stopped in the playground now
She wants to play with her toys a while.
And school’s out early and soon we’ll be learning
And the lesson today is how to die.
And then the bullhorn crackles,
And the captain crackles,
With the problems and the how’s and why’s.
And he can see no reasons
‘Cause there are no reasons
What reason do you need to die?
Tell me why? I don’t like Mondays.
Tell me why? I don’t like Mondays.
Tell me why? I don’t like Mondays.
I want to shoot the whole day down.
I love numbers. Consider it one of my weird predilections. I’m in Room 214 in a hotel in Fairbanks, Alaska tonight. When I told Amy my room number, she said “what a great number.” The reasons are:
Yes – I know we are a strange, bizarre, and twisted couple. But – isn’t that what makes it fun?
One of my pet peeves is the trendy overuse (and misuse) of certain words. I’ve railed in the past on the endless use of traction and space by my VC and entrepreneurial brethren. “World class” no longer means anything to me and I wish more people would use the word “fuck” in casual conversation since it’s so versatile.
When I received the following email from Richard Matthias today, all I could do was smile.
“Since you were banning words a while back I’m wondering if could ban the word ‘play’ as in “the China play”, “the energy play”, “the tech play”, etc. I don’t think I read you use it, but anyway, I’m fed up with hearing investors talking like they’re football coaches. You’re not football coaches, you’re not even talking about football!”
Right on Richard. It’s too bad I don’t have the power to ban words – I would if I could.
I just got a phone call that a close friend has cancer. This is the fifth time this year that this has happened. Two breast cancers, one prostate cancer, one cervical cancer, and one Burkitt’s lymphoma. Both of the women with breast cancers are fully recovered as is the man with prostate cancer – the other two are at the beginning of dealing with things. Three of the five people are under 40 years old.
I’ve definitely got a little “numb mind” right now. It’s a partly sunny day in Homer, I woke up feeling happy, looking forward to seeing some friends from Anchorage who are visiting this weekend, my weekly massage from the amazing Megan (this afternoon), and getting to see two new movies this weekend. This phone call definitely slowed me down and shifted my brain into a more reflective mode.
I just heard Amy tell one of her friends – the one with cervical cancer (carcinoma in situ – boy that’s a “really scary” phrase) – that “whenever someone says the ‘C’ word your heart skips a beat.” I’m eavesdropping on her conversation – it’s good bi-directional energy between these two women that have been best friends for 20 years. Friends are everything and it warms my heart that Amy is on the phone talking about this.
One of our friends – the one that had breast cancer earlier this year – was unbelievable during the experience. She was beyond inspiring – her attitude was extraordinary, she went after her disease with gusto, was completely “open source” about the whole thing (she had a double masectomy and was perfectly happy to talk about how excited she was to get new perky breasts, followed by several “nipple free” months – which is weird to write about – but powerful to experience). There is no doubt that her extreme positive attitude had a huge impact on her recovery. We already adored this woman before her ordeal – she’s now a touch point for dealing with anything negative.
When I was a kid, my dad would often say “live every day like it is your last.” It’s a well worn cliche, but it rings true every time I think about it.
By now, everyone has probably heard that Google is doing a secondary offering and selling 14.2m shares of stock. It turns out they are actually selling 14,159,265 shares. Of course, anyone who loves numbers like I do will immediately recognize this as the first eight digits of pi after the decimal point. What a delicious cheap thrill for all the numerologists in the world.