Different kinds of fun

 Okay, just over a year since the last post.  Not bad!  ...But I'll try to do better.


I ran the Old Pueblo 50 mile race on March 3rd, and it was far and away my best race yet.  I have to acknowledge here that running 50 miles is silly.  That said, it can be quite enjoyable, even "fun".  In a weird sort of way.  The way I see it, and this may have come from somewhere else, but from conversations with friends, there are four different types of "fun".  That is a weird word if you look at it alone.  Anyway. 

The first type of fun is that which is had in the present- something that is fun while you do it.  Something like playing a board game like Apples to Apples with a bunch of intoxicated friends, or reading articles from The Onion.  And then there is the kind of fun that is fun leading up to, or immediately following an activity.  I'm thinking something like sky diving, or hucking a cliff skiing some backcountry gnar pow, or a road trip with friends in a tiny, crowded car.  Something you reflect on later and think, "wow, that was a ton of fun!".  There was probably some discomfort or frustration along the way, but overall, it was fantastic.  The last kind of fun is, well, not really fun.  It is the kind of activity that was ultimately horrible, awful, terrifying, miserable, and all around full of suffering.  But later, like at least a few days, maybe a week or a month or even a year later, it is fun to tell people about.  It takes a long time for you to laugh about it, but when that day comes, it is probably your favorite story to tell.

Now usually I would say that these ultramarathons fall into the latter category- the one that is full of suffering and not fun at all, but fun to tell people about later.  But Old Pueblo (OP) was different.  I had a great day, and I had fun along the way while still finishing in a respectable 8hr 7min for second place overall.  It was fun while I did it, and it was fun in retrospect.  And there certainly was some suffering, and I certainly have fun telling people about it now.  I think I'm finally getting my nutrition pretty well dialed for these races, and I'm learning to listen to my body and understanding its needs better.  With more experience and time running, I've also gained a better understanding of my strengths and weaknesses.  I came out of OP with a mild overuse knee injury.  I've barely run in almost two weeks now, and its making me a little weird (especially since its been 60 degrees and sunny out every day).  I just want to be out in the mountains!  But I've decided to invest some serious time and energy into addressing my weaknesses and imbalances.  I'm pretty certain that my knee problem is ultimately the result of a groin injury I acquired last October.  I never took the time to address it properly, and I think the tightness and nagging pain of the groin injury was causing me to overcompensate and run a little "crooked", and causing my IT band to tighten and pull unevenly on my knee cap.  So I'm sorting that all out now.  It is frustrating, and I had to cancel my trip to Washington to run in the Chuckanut 50k because of it, but it also feels good to know what the problem is and be able to take steps to resolve it.  I'll come out of it a stronger, and a better athlete and runner because of it. 

There is still, however, one item I definitely need to address with my racing.  Its the pooping.  I had to stop about 10 miles into the race to poop, and lost a good 5-7 minutes because of it.  And the rocks I had to use for wiping duty were a little sandy and uncomfortable.  I had camped near the race start the night before, but I didn't bring a stove and cookware for simplicity's sake.  Normally I like to have a nice hot cup of green tea in the morning to help wake up and get some antioxidants in to start the day right.  For future races, I think I might consider coffee.  That's right, I've said it before, and I'll say it again- nothing gets the bowels moving like a cupajoe, pretty much the only thing that devilbeverage is good for.  This might actually be a good niche-marketing strategy for a coffee company..."Drink a cup of _______ coffee, and cut 5-7 minutes or more off of your ultramarathon race time!"  Coffee for Ultrarunners.  Strong beans for stronger bowels*

(*Disclaimer: product only effective for intended purpose if complete bowel evacuation is achieved prior to race start)

Whiteness.

Ok, so I really don't have the time to be writing this post right now, but the Wright brothers wouldn't have let something like time get in the way of building their first plane, so I won't let it get in the way of my posting or my trip to RiteAid later.  See what I did there?

I apologize for the lapse in posts there, I have been overwhelmingly busy with school, grant writing, planning for BorderVenture, etc (check out BorderVenture.blogspot.com !).  And I'm likely to continue to be really busy for a good while, so I apologize in advance for near-future lapses in posting.  I just wanted to let you know that my lack of posts was due to business and NOT a lack of reasons why I don't drink coffee.  I thought some might be concerned I was running out of ideas after receiving an email from a friend with a reason why someone might not drink coffee.  I'm sure she didn't think I'd run dry, but it brought my attention to that potential concern.  Anyway, on with it already!

To you white people out there (myself being one of them): have you ever had a day, or a time, or an experience when you maybe regretted being "white"?  Or maybe you just wished you were a little less white? When I say white, I'm referring to the whiteness that makes a blog like StuffWhitePeopleLike.com so damn entertaining.  Tragically white, if I may.  For example, perhaps when playing a spirited game of basketball?  (or maybe when playing any sport at all?) Or perhaps when someone brings up Arizona politics?  Or maybe, more likely as a male, when you try to dance with chicks at a club?  Or in my case, perhaps when you decide to run and hike 400 miles of the Arizona-Mexico border?  Or anytime when you've been in a foreign country that wasn't predominantly white? And to everyone else: I'm sure there are many times that you've been embarrassed for a tragically white person, and though you certainly wouldn't want to hang out with that awkward white ass of a person, you maybe wished they'd be a little less "white".  We've all been there, don't deny it.

Well, when thinking about all those times when you had wished you were less "white", or you wish the guy or girl next to you was less "white,"  I'd like you to go to www.StuffWhitePeopleLike.com, and scroll down to the very bottom of that post.  There you will see that the VERY FIRST POST about what white people like is........

You got it, COFFEE.  Don't be so tragically white all the time, and put down that damned cup of coffee.

thx2lns4beta

I feel awful.

Absolutely awful.  I woke up this morning (it was still dark out) feeling like I'd swallowed a poisonous, spiky bowling ball.  I went to the bathroom to try to address the issue with no luck.  I went back to my room to check what time it was, thinking "it's probably almost time to get up anyway," only to see that it was 1 am.  Damnit.  Trying to lay back down seemed to elevate my internal agony-level, so I migrated back to my futon with the plan of sleeping in a sitting-up position with the futon in couch-formation.  This seemed to alleviate some of the pain, but all that moving around seemed to get the bowling ball excited, and it started doing gleeful somersaults in my stomach.  Unsure of what this new development would lead to, I grabbed the large pot I use for brewing beer from my closet and placed it close by on the floor, ready for whatever disaster might strike.

Well, I started to fall asleep with the pain coming in gentle waves, saltwater lapping tenderly at my open wounds.  You get used to anything after a while, really.  My neck started to hurt so I started to gradually work my position back toward something more comfortable.  I went too fast the first time and found myself reaching for the ole brewpot, but after sitting back up I realized it wasn't yet its time.  Now, more slowly, (we're talking over the course of 2 or 3 hours), I was able to eventually settle into relative comfort lying on my back.  Sweet, sweet, intermittent slumber.  Eventually, around noon, I dragged myself from my room-made-torture-cell and sat down on the couch next to my roommate, still feeling like the walking dead.  I explained my evening and my current state-of-being, and you know what the first thing she asked me was?  "Can I get you some tea?"  Ah ha!  I might feel like death, but that bowling ball of agony has receded into something feeling more like a softball of extreme discomfort, and I'll be damned if tea didn't come out on top of coffee once again.  

Unless you're truly an addict and convinced you're going to die anyway, you would never EVER drink coffee on an upset (tortured) stomach.  Tea on the other hand can be quite pleasant. Honey vanilla chamomile or peppermint tea please!

Another reason why.

My Grandma with the White Hair lived to be 92 years old, and be damned if I ever saw her drink a coffee in the 25 years I've known her.  Not that I'd remember anything before say the last 21 years, and I probably don't remember half of what happened through undergrad (thanks a lot you enormous plastic bottles of vodka).  Grandma had a glorious brain- she conquered every crossword those bastards at the New York Times could contrive, and was a poet through and through.

If you don't drink coffee, you might hope to be half as cool and live half as long as Grandma with the White Hair.

Mexico, Old People, AOL, and Coffee

Why shouldn't you drink coffee?  Because AOLnews said so.  Well, that's not really the full reason, so let me explain.
Mexico
I recently visited Puerto Vallarta, Mexico for about ten days.  My reasons for the trip were many, most of which were based on personal enjoyment and recreation.  Quite selfish, really, but also quite nice.  The biggest driver was of course the fact that one of my best friends from high school (Justin) and his older brother (Duncan) were going to be there, and I hadn't seen either of them in a long, long time (well, everything is relative I suppose). To get ahead of myself a bit, Puerto Vallarta is absolutely beautiful and has the proper mix of some touristy crap attractions and real Mexico, and our trip was filled with beach time (obviously entailing ridiculous amounts of frisbee, ocean swimming, wave battling, babe-watching, volleyball, and tail-chasing), more chasing of girls, partying, hiking, exploring town, running, snorkeling, and just generally having a great time.

But if you're a gringo and reading this and thinking about going, please pull your head out of your ass- you're not special or entitled to anything- and travel with a bit of humility and respect for an amazing culture and people.  Anyway, these friends of mine were going to be in PV because their grandfather retired there a handful of years ago.
Old People
Grandfather is known as Papa Bill, a man I've known since the early years of my childhood.  Papa Bill is a generally jovial and carefree man.  He moved to Mexico some years ago with his somewhat unfortunate girlfriend Michalene, or Mike.  Mike isn't a bad person per say, just hyperanal, obnoxious, lives in constant fear, and is a chain smoker.  We think Papa Bill could have done better is all.  Anywho, when we were but wee lads, Papa Bill had AOL as an ISP.  I'm pretty sure this originally stemmed from Justin's influence and the popularity of AIM instant messenging at the time, but it just so turns out that Papa Bill never quite kicked the habit, and he happens to be one of approximately seven people in the world that still uses AOL.
AOL
AOL is an outdated, useless web browser with little functionality and news headlines that would look more at home on the front of a tabloid.  On one fine morning in Mexico however, AOL came through.  I opened up Papa Bill's internets and it defaulted to the AOL homepage, revealing the top headlines of AOLnews for the day, and low and behold, the second story down was titled "Study Provides Wake-Up Call for Coffee Drinkers."  Que bueno!  Finally, (un)popular media backs Evan's stand against coffee!
Coffee
The "article" describes a study that found the "boost" in energy that habitual coffee drinkers get from a cupajoe is actually just the reversal of what they call acute caffeine withdrawal.  In other words, until you get your fix, you're just suffering from withdrawal.  Like a crackhead.  


So why shouldn't you drink coffee?  Because AOLnews says so.  And because you're developing a substance dependence and you're no better than a crackhead.  Soon enough you'll be stealing and selling your roommate's Wii games to pawn shops for coffee money.  Mugging old ladies and hard time will soon follow, and who knows what deprave and disgusting things you'll do for your coffee fix in prison.

and for proof of all this, here is the AOLnews article...
Proof that you can't trust Coffee Drinkers because they are like Crackheads

Bitter Old Men.

Sometimes I transform into a bitter old man.  It's mostly only when I'm around who we'll refer to as The Professor.  He's not a bitter old man either, but when we share one another's company, we both transform.  You can sense it, the bitter is almost palpable when conversation initiates.  It generally starts as a complaint about something simple, some general discontentment, which then grows into a spirited rant about some frustrating facet of our lives (and I must say, The Professor and I both have the capacity to generate some excellent and righteous rants).  From there, it has the potential to mutate into a malicious rage and a hatred for humanity.  Soon enough, however, one of us realizes what is happening and points out to the other that we've once again become bitter old men, and a slightly refreshed and relieved chuckle ensues.  So what does this have to do with coffee, you ask?  Coffee is bitter, and I certainly don't need any more bitterness in my life, lest I not be able to chuckle myself out of the next bitter-old-man rant-rage.

Don't drink coffee or you could irreversibly transform into a bitter old man.  And that should be especially frightening to you female coffee users.

A Brief Post...

This one is extra short because I should be doing work right now, but I wanted to revisit a point from a previous post.  Coffee makes you poop.  This was made brutally apparent on my recent airport excursions between Buffalo and Phoenix, and more specifically by my inability to avoid using airport bathrooms.  I hate airport bathrooms for two reasons.  The first and least relevant reason is that they are used by hundreds of people from all over the country and the world, each of them carrying a unique cocktail of diseases that they spread over everything they touch.  And even if you're as crafty as I, you still always end up touching something in those bathroom-disease-pits.  The second and most relevant reason is that the men's bathroom is always filled (FILLED) with suit-coat wearing uptight businessmen that are unleashing stressed, angry, coffee-inspired toilet-catastrophes all around you.  It is just awful.  I'm sure that this is not the case in the lady's room because women obviously do not ever fart or poop. 

To the airline-veteran wearers of suit-coats: lay off the beanjuice when traveling for your own good and for the safety, sanctity and comfort of us all.

I think I probably use hyphens too much, but they are just so damn handy!

Redemption.

This is normally a bearable-to-pleasant time of the year (weather-wise) to be in Phoenix.  Outside, it is probably around 55 degrees right now.  You would think that after suffering through a Phoenix summer these Phoenicians would welcome cool weather with open arms, but at this very moment it is 1 million degrees in the PHX airport.  That is an exaggeration.  [I was about to add a slightly vulgar and inappropriate statement describing the temperature's effect on my body, but in fear that my grandmother may someday read this, I'll just say for now that I am quite uncomfortable]

Anyway, the title of this post actually refers to womankind.  Being a bit wary and doubtful of the double 'X' lately, three women (angels?) today have once again given me a sliver of hope -or perhaps the other half of that ship-fragment-made-raft that Rose sat on to watch Decaprio die in the frigid waters of the Atlantic as the Titanic gave a couple hundred people the proverbial "shaft".  I don't blame her, I would have done the same thing after having to hear that damned Celine Dion song on the radio for the 8 years following the movie. 

Here are three short stories of redemption.


Jamie
Jamie is an old friend from my undergraduate days of Starcraft, Jiu-Jitsu, all-nighter-paper-writing, and drunken mischief.  She is quite possible the nicest and sweetest person in the world.  Not one little bit of [insert any negative trait here] in her body.  I just recently discovered that Jamie lives in PHX, and today she:
-invited me into her house
-let me park my car at her house for the next 2 weeks
-brought me to a "party" where we consumed only sweets, eggnog, hot chocolate with peppermint schnapps, and hot wing and bean dips, and met a 63 year old man named Egor. (Egor is more commonly referred to Santa because of his incredible Santa-beard, and he rocks hard on the upright bass... there will be more to come on Santa)
-drove me to the airport (I may have been dropped off at the wrong terminal, but I had some time to kill and it gave opportunity for further redemption, which leads me to Sarah)
Sarah
So I don't really know if her name is Sarah for certain, but I'm pretty sure it is.  I'm terrible with names.  And to my credit, we only talked for about 4 minutes.  I don't have much to say about "Sarah" except that she was beautiful, very easy to talk to, had a warm and welcoming yet very intriguing personality, and she was very calm and relaxing to talk to (despite the almost-certainty of missing her flight).
Charissa?
This is really her name (I swear- I actually remember this one), but I wasn't sure how to spell it.  Pronounced as Kuh-riss-uh.  That's probably not even a good phonetic description.  Anyway, Charissa mistook my confused looking-for-my-flight-and-gate-number-grumbling as some sort of creep-talk aimed in her general direction.  After clarifying my grumble, she was kind enough to engage in further conversation and even allowed me to stalk her to her gate and converse whilst we waited for her flight.  She was obviously a smarty, confirmed by her status as a doctor of the human eye, and we had a fine talk indeed (and she was also very attractive).

I think there are a couple traits that can be generalized for these ladies that gave them redemptive power- they were all genuine, sincere, and comfortable with (confident in?) themselves.  They were also all attractive and approachable, but that is another matter.  So you may be wondering what any of this has to do with drinking coffee, but it should be obvious by now.  I wouldn't have engaged with any of these ladies-  and womankind would still be in dire need of redemption- had I drank coffee because coffee gives you stale old-man breath.

Reason #3 to not drink coffee:  Coffee gives you stale old-man breath and significantly decreases the chances of engaging in conversation with an attractive member of the gender-of-interest.

EDIT:  I apologize for any missing words, misspellings, awkward sentences (well, more awkward than usual anyway), and anything else amiss with this posting.  To my credit, it was 2 am in the Phoenix airport when I was writing this.  It was just me and good ole Creeper Joe.  Ok, I never actually talked to him so I didn't actually know his name, but he was definitely creepy.

A confession...

So before we get too far into this, I need to get something off my chest. Coffee does have one potentially important function- it makes you poop. Well, it makes me poop at least. Now before you get too crazy making assumptions about the value of coffee, it is important to recognize that pooping isn't always a good thing, though there are certainly times when a little pooping assistance is useful. For example, I wake up early to sneak in a run or bike ride before starting work for the day. Now ideally I would have my cup of green tea and a bowl of oatmeal, poop, run/bike, and be back in time to have 2nd breakfast and start working. Unfortunately, sometimes that poop isn't quite ready before departure, and all it takes is 2 or 3 miles of a 6 or 7 mile run to rob you of your dignity and a good pair of socks.  And there's nothing worse than losing a good pair of socks.

If I'm in a hurry and need to poop immediately, coffee is the go-to drink.  The speed at which it works is unbelievable really.  A few sips and a familiar friend is knock-knock-knocking on Evan's door.  The flipside to all of this is of course that you don't always want to poop as soon as the coffee demands it.  For instance, road trips.  Don't drink coffee (or let your road trip partner-in-crime do so) if you need to be anywhere on time. 

I believe in letting nature take it's course, and subsequently, I don't like to resort to coffee-inspired pooping.  I just want to recognize in this post that there are certain (extremely dire) times when it is acceptable (though regrettable) to consume coffee.

Today's coffee fact: For better or worse, til death do you part, coffee makes you poop.  With great speed and urgency.

Inspiration!

I'd been considering starting a blog for a long time, but I wasn't sure what I'd write about.  The epiphany struck like a black-star ninja this morning during a text-conversation (textsation? text-exchange? text-change? textange?) this morning.  I asked one of the female kind to get coffee with me, and she (knowing my anti-coffee state of being) naturally questioned my intent.  I quickly responded with "When I said coffee it was only to create the illusion of my conformity for your comfort- I would definitely order green tea."  She slyly replied, "Ahh, but you would be so much cooler if you ordered coffee... consider conforming spandex boy," (in reference to my road cycling hobby, see footnote) and I countered with, "Cooler maybe, but conforming under peer pressure would compromise my character..."  And that, boys and girls, is  my very first reason to not drink coffee.  Strength of character.

Cheers.

footnote: I definitely do not own one of those obnoxious, overpriced spandex suits that you often see old, overweight men stuffing themselves into.  The only piece of spandex I own is my padded cycling shorts, and that is only to help ensure the longevity of my manparts.  But if you were curious, my butt does look fantastic in them.