Category Archives: Humor


Running can be funny. There, I said it.

Challenging, painful at times and sweaty… but also damn funny.

And to a comic strip junkie like me, it’s great to see talented writers/artists making light of pounding the pavement.

Each day I’m sure to catch the latest panels featuring my favorite runner/musician/custodian “Frazz.” Jef Mallett’s strip is both funny and thought-provoking and one of my daily treats.

And if you haven’t caught the “out there” and damn witty musings of The Oatmeal, you’re missing out. Matthew Inman waxes wacky about everything from exploding kittens to overly-sensitive xenomorphs to the awesomeness that is Nicholas Tesla. He also likes to poke fun at running (let’s hear it for The Blerch).

Check ’em both out here:

Click here for "Frazz"

Click here for “Frazz”

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On Tuesday I posted a story about runners voting for the final design of race shirts and medals. You can check it out here.

The Shirt of Mystery...

The Shirt of Mystery…

Today’s post is a bit of an epilogue… but an epilogue of evil!

In the story I made mention of the Peachtree Road Race tradition of runners voting for 1 of 5 different shirt logos. The winning design is kept secret (like Academy Awards/Price Waterhouse secret) only to be revealed to racers as they are handed their shirt after they cross the finish line.

That’s right, during the race you have no idea what the shirt is. As you sweat buckets pounding along the searing Atlanta asphalt, you trudge forward with only the mystery of the Peachtree Road Race shirt pushing you on (sounds dramatic, right).

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Make up your mind, will ya'!

Make up your mind, will ya’!

Democracy is a wonderful thing.

Who doesn’t love that whole “Life, Liberty and Pursuit of Happiness” deal?

We get the right to bear arms and arm bears (or something like that).

And we get to vote.

To decide the President of the United States.

To decide the winner of American Idol.

…And now to decide on the style and color of our race medals and shirts.

I’m sure this is exactly what the founding fathers had in mind when they told England to “Suck it” back in 1776.

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Hey Trippers!

Pizza Pizza!

Pizza Pizza!

On Tuesday I made a comparison between soccer’s World Cup and running races.

Both are things I love with a passion. And while each of them are awesome, they both leave room for improvement.*

In fact, few things in life are utterly perfect… except birthday cake-flavored M&M’s. Have you tried those things? Holy Jumping Schnikes!

So I dusted off the soapbox, jumped up and mentioned a few race experience items that could be handled better along with possible solutions. Whether they are reasonable solutions or not remains to be seen.

I also asked others to jump up and acknowledge areas where they think races come up short (in the name of improvement) or just to blow off a little steam. We all need to do that from time to time.

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Be warned: today is a day to jump up on your soapbox and vent about stuff we hate in the things we love.

You preach it Peter!

You preach it Peter!

For the last week I’ve been consumed by all things soccer (aka “football for any non-Americans out there). I’ve been a fan of the sport ever since I could yell “Goal” (or whatever the catchphrase was way back when). And every four years I glue myself to the TV to watch the World Cup and witness the very best soccer has to offer.

And the very worst.

For all of the fantastic goals, tremendous saves and incredible feats of athleticism, there is one thing I see time and again and absolutely loathe about the current state of soccer: diving.

For those of you not in the know, the sport of soccer has been plagued by players faking being fouled, dropping to the ground and rolling around like they are mortally wounded… all for the sake of drawing a “faux” penalty and getting a free kick or perhaps even a penalty shot (the closest thing soccer has to a “gimme” goal).


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Walk or don't walk?

Walk or don’t walk?

When did walking become such a bad thing?

I recently read a post from an acquaintance boasting about how they finally completed an entire half marathon without walking a single step.

I was about to send them a congratulatory note on their race… then I continued reading their post.

They went on to say that they ran the entire race much slower than they’d wanted and even had difficulty finishing. Their time was one of their worst ever (and this person is all about their finisher’s time), yet they acted like the race was an unmitigated success… simply because they didn’t walk.

If their driving force is to get as fast a time as possible, why is that point ignored in the wake of “successfully” not walking?

Ummm, congrats? I guess.

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I am NOT letting the wookie win. Arm sockets be damned.

I am NOT letting the wookie win. Arm sockets be damned.

Hi Trippers!

Exciting news emanating from Tatooine, Kamino, Hoth and Alderaan (wait, it’s not there anymore… forget Alderaan).

The Jedi Council has spoken (in the guise of RunDisney).

The Star Wars Half Marathon Weekend in Disneyland (January 15-18, 2015) was announced yesterday by none other than the Dark Lord of the Sith himself, Darth Vader.

Click on Vader for the announcement.

Click on Vader for the announcement.

So, when I told my buddy Kevin about the race he asked if I was going to run it.

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Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

-Robert Frost

Decisions, decisions.

Decisions, decisions.

On Sunday I’m running the OC Marathon/Half Marathon. Two different distances. So, which one am I doing?

In 2013 I ran the half marathon; this year I’m running the full marathon (the whole 26.2 mile enchilada). Not my first full marathon (it’ll be number 7), but my first full marathon with this specific “wrinkle.”

This will be the first time I’m running a full marathon where there is the option of running a half marathon distance. When I ran the LA and Chicago marathons, it was 26.2 miles or bust.

The vast majority of runners in OC will be opting for the half marathon distance.

Last year, less than 16% of the runners selected the full marathon, while a whopping 84% chose to pound pavement for 13.1 miles (I was one of ’em).

It’s just made me think about something new (to me) that I’ll face on Sunday…


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Last week sports fans nationwide cheered the running of the 2014 Boston Marathon. The support and solidarity surrounding the event in the wake of last year’s tragedy exemplified the true spirit of the marathon and good sportsmanship.

Naughty naughty.

Naughty naughty.

Of course that doesn’t mean that there still weren’t a few rotten apples in the running barrel.

By now most people have heard about four individuals who photocopied bib #14285 and illegally ran the race.

And then there’s the story of Chelsa Crowley, wife of Foursquare Founder Dennis Crowley (her accomplice), who copied the bib digits of Kathy Brown, a woman who was running the marathon in order to raise money to benefit multiple sclerosis research.

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Hi Trippers!

Just a quick post today with two tidbits.

First off, a “Cartoonified” Contest update. Be sure to post your running photos at Tripping The Kenyan’s Facebook page (and give us a “like” while you’re there) for a chance to win a free caricature from the artists at “” The contest runs until 5:00pm PST on Thursday, May 1st.

Winner gets a custom caricature and two runner ups win “Gone Running” signs.

Below is another example of the handiwork from the artists at This is Corrado, one of my T2 running buddies captured during the 2014 LA Marathon and his caricature on an eBib.


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Bib me!

Bib me!

When you think of a “bib,” what image comes to mind? Most likely something you put on a shirt in order to protect it from drool and other messes.

Oh, I’ve also heard people put them on babies when they eat.

(Cue rim shot)

As runners, we have a fascination with the race bib.

Why is that?

When you get down to it, a bib is really just a piece of paper (okay, these days it’s typically made out of a material called Tyvek, but you get the idea) with an identification number on it.

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"Bye bye bye."

“Bye bye bye.”

In 1985 Coca-Cola changed their classic formula, introducing “New Coke” and America lost its friggin’ mind in protest.

Each year when McDonald’s brings back the McRib sandwich “for a limited time,” people swarm to the Golden Arches like it’s the last time they’ll ever ever ever get the chance to purchase their favorite “barbecue-flavored restructured pork sandwich.”

Let’s be honest, when it comes to food, we Americans need our feed and absolutely savor our flavor.

And I am no exception.

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Big Blue rides again!

Big Blue rides again!

So, I had made it on Wipeout. I had a blast playing in the biggest playground imaginable. I even ended up on national television and had a permanent recording of me battling the Big Balls (and losing spectacularly).

And when I say I didn’t have any regrets about losing, that’s the god’s honest truth. But that doesn’t mean I was 100% satisfied. I would have liked the chance to run the final Wipeout zone. Just once.

Unfortunately, there’s no way to run the course unless you’re a contestant and they typically didn’t do “second chance” episodes.

I guess it’d just have to remain a wish. Or would it?

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5000 MILES

That's a whole heap o' pavement pounding.

That’s a whole heap o’ pavement pounding.

When you’re driving down the highway and glance at your odometer, don’t you get a little bit excited when you see you’re just about hit a milestone mile mark?

10,000 miles… 25,000 miles… 50,000 miles… or the Crème de la Crème… 100,000 miles.

Well, I’ve logged all of my miles since I started distance running in October of 2008 (a little OCD, I know). And this past Saturday I hit a milestone mark during mile 2 of my 20-mile run (prepping for the OC Marathon coming up in 3 weeks).

I just rolled my “running odometer” (or should I say pedometer) past 5000 miles.

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Round two!

Round two!

We’re near the end, so let’s dive right in.

The gameshow “Wipeout” consists of four elimination rounds. The first Wipeout zone trims the number of participants from 24 to down to an even dozen. So I had survived to “Wipeout” for another day… or should I say 45 minutes, which was basically the time I had from the exhausting first round to eat and prepare for the next go-round. Or should I say Merry-Go-Round. Or better yet, the Merry-Go-Round from hell!

Round two featured the aptly named “Scare-o-sel.”

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