Category Archives: Humor
A GOOD SIGN…
That’s What I’ve Heard.
The other day I was thinking about who was the first sports fan to ever hold up a sign. For some reason I have this image in my head of some toga-clad Roman sitting in the upper deck of the Coliseum hoisting up a banner that reads, “Go Lions!”
As a whole, sports signs are a lot of fun. I enjoy watching NFL, MLB or NBA games and seeing all of the witty banter and biting insults that fans scrawl onto a big piece of over-sized cardboard. If you’re ever curious as to “Who really sucks” or wondering about the multitude of acronyms that can be created using just the letters “E.S.P.N.” you need go no further than scanning the stands at a sporting event.
PLANNING AHEAD… WAY AHEAD
Running with Baby New Year.
I just signed up for a race yesterday.
No big deal, right? I sign up for races all of the time.
Except this one is in 2015.
Yup, some people have barely finished ditching their 2014 resolutions and I’m already making race plans to coincide with next year’s batch of soon-to-be broken promises.
THE FORECAST IS FOR “FUN”
“Life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass; it’s about learning to dance in the rain.” -Vivian Greene
Blame it on the Rain!
When I was little and after playing would come inside covered from head to toe in mud, my mother would look to the sky and say “Sometimes I wonder if you have the common sense to come in out of the rain.”
Well mom, 35 or so years later I can finally give you a definitive response to your query.
The answer is an unequivocal “No.”
In fact, as I’ve gotten older… and allegedly more mature… I actually am doing my damnedest to look for the rain (literal and figurative) and storm out into it like I’m reenacting the “Charge of the Light Brigade”…without quite as much artillery, mind you.
FINDING FRAZZ…
Run on Frazz!
It’s Sunday and I just got done reading the paper.
Yes, the Sunday paper.
While I have embraced digital delivery (most of my reading is done on my iPad and Kindle), there’s still something I love about picking up the LA Times off my doorstep each weekend and rifling through the sports section, Sunday circulars and a brief stop in the Books & Arts section to get my horoscope (hopefully the signs say it’ll be a good day). But to be honest, the biggest reason I still get the Sunday paper has to do with one colorful section that makes my inner 5-year-old smile each week.
The comics.
THE FREAKY FOOT CHRONICLES: CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 2: “GOLDEN ARCHES”
Not quite that high.
A few weeks ago I wrote the first installment of the “Freaky Foot Chronicles” where I talked about my mildly mutant “foot digits” (aka toes).
Well, time to wax nostalgic about yet another of my maladies (one that several other runners I know share). The downside is it sucks. The upside is it’s a manageable condition that won’t prevent me from being a running fool for the next 40-50 years.
I’ve got high arches… really high arches. Not quite the St. Louis Arch arches or “McDonald’s arches” arches, but certainly higher than is considered normal.
RUN RUN RUDOLPH!
Just a fun little bonus and some food for the ego. I received an e-mail today from Run Racing premiering their new promo video for The Holiday Half Marathon in Pomona.
I happened to see a familiar face wearing reindeer antlers… and check out the :40 mark for some slow-motion goodness. Ho-Ho-Ho!
Run on!
THE “EX-FACTOR”…
Splitsville…population, you.
Valentine’s Day is this week, that wonderful day when we thank the special someone in our lives (and Hallmark, Godiva chocolates and florists nationwide make out like bandits). And for us avid runners, that means our appreciation for that significant other who supports our sport or pounds the pavement right alongside us.
Well, this year I’d like to give thanks to a forgotten group of people… or should I say those people we’d like to forget… the “exes.” These are those previously exceptional people whose appeal wore off over time to the point where we scratched our heads while wondering, “What the hell was I thinking.”
CERTIFICATE OF PARTICIPATION…
Remember back in grade school when you’d receive a “certificate of participation” for finishing just about anything? Whether it was completing a science project, reading a certain number of books or just having good attendance, a certificate (featuring cool borders, formal sounding language and your name displayed in pretty text) made it seem “official.”
WARNING SIGNS OF A HAPPILY OBSESSED RUNNER…
WARNING SIGN #4348
“NAME THAT TUNE”
When you hear a brand new song, the first thought that goes through your mind isn’t “Hey, great melody” or “Cool lyrics.”
Instead, you think to yourself, “Would I want this on my running mix”?
Run on!
Play that funky music.
RUNNING NUGGET: THE FORBIDDEN SHIRT
Hope you’ve got the right shirt on.
This past Sunday almost 20,000 runners tore it up along Pacific Coast Highway as they ran the Surf City Half & Full Marathon. And I couldn’t help but notice as I motored along with my running brothers and sisters that literally thousands of them were committing a huge fashion faux pas.
They were wearing the 2014 Surf City Marathon tech shirts given to them for the race.
That’s a no-no!
Now, the Surf City shirts were pretty sweet this year… yellow for the guys and pink for the ladies. That said, those are the only two shirts in the world that should NOT have been worn during the race.
You may think I’m crazy and wondering “Why shouldn’t someone wear the shirt given to them specifically for that race?”
Because.
NIP IT IN THE BUD
It’s kinda like that. Ouch!
RUNNER: “Your nipples might bleed.”
ME: “Can you say that again?”
RUNNER: “Your nipples might bleed.”
ME: “My nipples might what?”
RUNNER: “Bleed.”
ME: “Bleed?”
RUNNER: “Bleed.”
ME: “$%#@”
That was me just before my first 8-mile run back in 2008 when I was told that I should probably get some kind of nipple protection. I was thinking, “What the hell kind of sport am I getting into where my nipples might start dripping blood like a pair of synchronized leaky faucets.” Got a mental picture, didn’t you?
MY “OTHER” GIRLFRIEND
Me and Becky.
If you ask any lady who has ever dated me, after rattling off my many “endearing” quirks (at least I think they’re endearing) they’ll probably describe me as dependable, loyal and trustworthy (damn, I’m making myself sound like a dog). I’m not the kind of guy who would ever go behind their back and fool around.
Well shocking truth be told, I actually have been involved with another woman for the last 5 years and I’m proud of it.
Scandal!
She and I spend an intimate few hours together every Saturday without fail. I’ve taken her on trips around the country. She’s seen me at my best and at my worst. And whereas other women may come and go in my life, she’s always been by my side (or should I say on my wrist).
Her name is Becky.
And she is my Garmin Forerunner 305 GPS Receiver.
RUNNING NUGGET: THE BEST ICE PACK MONEY CAN BUY
As runners we all know about sprains, strains and sore muscles far too well. And at some point we’ve all had to have a heaping helping of RICE (Rest, Ice, Compression, Elevation). Well, today’s nugget is brought to you by the letter “I.”
I’m going to give you a little insight to help you in a post-race pinch and probably piss off the manufacturers of sports ice packs in the process. Don’t get me wrong; I’ve used many types of ice packs and they all basically work… it is pretty hard to get cold wrong, isn’t it?
Wear your vegetables!
I’m here to tell you about the best ice pack value for your buck and it’s not at the sporting goods store, running specialty shop or on-line.
It’s in your grocer’s freezer.
Let me tell you a story. After a recent race, I was driving a friend home and she was in pain. After limping the final mile of the race, her knee was sore as hell. She said she either needed some Advil ASAP or a samurai sword to commit Hara-kiri.
FEELING GUILTY
Days off make me go D’oh!
On Sunday, I didn’t workout at all. I didn’t go running. I didn’t hit the gym.
There were races I could have run… The Arizona Rock ‘n’ Roll Half or Full Marathon, Disney Tinkerbell in Anaheim, The Houston Marathon.
But I didn’t.
Instead I hit the grocery story, cooked some chili in the crock pot, watched a little playoff NFL football, and met a friend for a drink.
No real exercise to speak of whatsoever.
And I feel guilty.
CARTOON ME!
If a picture is worth a thousand words, then how many words is a caricature worth?
I turned to the folks at ilovetorun.org and had them transform me into a running cartoon.
Now I can impart my running words of wisdom (aka wiseass remarks) for all to behold. Enjoy!
Living the dream… as a cartoon figure.
Run on!
(Oh, and please feel free to use my mug to create your own eBib)
Tripping The Kenyans 