Category Archives: Tech & Gear
Last year I wrote a love letter about my Garmin Forerunner 305 (aka “Becky”).
I waxed poetic about her wondrous qualities and charming idiosyncrasies. And how we were running soulmates destined to be together until dead battery do us part.
(It’s one of my favorite posts and you can read it here).
Well, sadly, Becky and I are finally going our separate ways.
Her battery hasn’t been holding its charge lately. She no longer syncs easily to Garmin Connect. And two weeks ago one of her straps broke during my long run.
In addition, I’m starting a bit of a running reboot and change is the order of the day.
It was time. Read the rest of this entry
If you’re like me, you run a lot of races and it can be a challenge to keep track of everything. My race shirts hang in the closet, my race bling on a race medal hanger (need to get another one soon). I even keep my race bibs together.
But where do you store all of your vital race information like:
- Race Name
- Start Time
- Bib Number
- and much more…
For the longest time I kept all of my race info on an excel spreadsheet (nerdy, I know) but showing that to friends (even racing ones) was about as exciting as displaying quarterly business projections. And creating a PowerPoint presentation seemed like overkill.
Two weeks ago after the OC Marathon I tried out PRO Compression’s “Marathon Compression Socks” and was amazed at how quickly they helped me recover. You can give that post (“Compression Convert”) a gander.
Well, when I like something I don’t sit back and keep it to myself… I share it with everyone.
So check out PRO Compression’s website for yourself. Don’t forget to sign up for their “Sock of the Month” e-mail list, promotions and new product announcements. Sign up is at the bottom of the PRO Compression homepage.
You can also visit PRO Compression on Facebook (give ’em a “Like”):
And on Twitter (“Follow” away):
And Here’s the News about “The Big Squeeze” Contest.
I’ve teamed up with PRO Compression to give you a chance to win a FREE pair of Marathon Compression Socks or Calf Sleeves.
Here’s what you do…
- Go to the Tripping The Kenyans Facebook page (and give us a “like” while you’re there). You can also leave a comment on whatever page this post appears.
- Leave us a comment on how you put on your socks:
- “Right foot first.”
- “Left foot first.”
- “Simultaneously. I’m talented.”
- “That early in the morning, I’m thankful I can put on socks at all.”
A winner will be chosen at random. (Contest ends at 9am PST on 5/27… the Tuesday morning after Memorial Day)
And while one of you will take home the FREE pair of Marathon Compression Socks or Calf Sleeves, EVERYONE gets a chance a to save BIG…
- Visit the PRO Compression product page and pick out the compression socks or sleeves you like.
- When you checkout, enter the coupon code BLG14 and you’ll save 40%.
Get squeezed and… Run on!
After a brief hiatus following the OC Marathon, it was back to the gym yesterday to work out my “man gams” and start prepping for the San Diego Rock ‘n’ Roll Marathon in 3 1/2 weeks. During my two day hiatus, however, I noticed a big difference in comparison to how I felt following the LA Marathon back in March.
The day after the LA Marathon I lumbered around like Frankenstein’s monster (complete with incomprehensible groaning… and a fear of pitchfork wielding townsfolk). But this past Monday, just one day removed from my 26.2 mile Newport Beach jaunt, I was walking around with very little real discomfort (still scared of armed townsfolk though). So what was the difference between then and now? Had I improved my level of fitness tenfold? Acquired mutant recuperative powers like Wolverine (and hopefully retractable Adamantium claws)?
The answer is a pair of socks… compression socks to be more specific.
On Saturday morning I went for a run with my “Team Roadkill” buddies, as we’ve done so many times before. While it was a fun time, there was also something a little bittersweet about it.
For one of us, it was going to be their last run. Well, not a person per se.
This was the last run for my current running shoes.
My New Balance 940v2 shoes (size 11.5 EE… yeah, I’ve got wide feet) reached the end of the line and this was the final occasion for me to lace them up. The time had come for them to retire. Read the rest of this entry
I have a recurring problem… okay several (Ha Ha), but this one I’m willing to talk about openly.
It’s hats… in particular, baseball hats. Yup, I’m addicted to those wonderfully brimmed beauties that keep the sun and sweat out of our eyes while simultaneously professing our love of a particular team, product or place.
I equate my love of ball caps to that of ladies’ obsession with shoes. I mean how many pairs of black heels can you own? Apparently a boatload. I can certainly relate.
As a little kid I loved to wear the ball caps of my favorite professional teams or whatever little league team I was playing on. And when my dad would go to Asia on business he would bring me back ball caps of Japanese baseball teams (my favorite was the Tokyo Giants). Fortunately, by the time I hit my teens I kind of grew out of them and showed the world my blonde locks uncluttered by headwear.
Then came college.
As a student at the University of Wisconsin (yes, those “Final Four” bound Badgers… woo hoo), my baseball cap addiction reappeared with a vengeance as I started collecting oodles of Wisconsin ball caps. Then when I went onto grad school at Florida State, the collection only got bigger with the addition of FSU hats to my already massive collection of UW hats.
Oh, it gets worse.
Famed football coach Lou Holtz was quoted as saying that “no one has ever drowned in sweat.” Although I think I’ve come close. You see when I exercise I’m a bit of a sweater… okay, calling me a bit of a sweater is like calling the shark from Jaws a “bit of a fish.”
After a race or a training run I look like I just jumped into a pool with my clothes on. My buddies have joked that sweat is “fat crying.” If that’s the case, when I run it seems like my fat is having a full-on nervous breakdown.
Ever since I started distance running back in the fall of 2008, I’ve come to the harsh realization that my feet are a bit of a mess. How big of a mess you may ask? Well, enough that I feel the need to break it down into chapters. Fortunately, they’re fairly tame… no rampaging fungi stories or pics, I promise.
So now that you know you won’t have to suppress the gag reflex, let’s talk about my feet.
CHAPTER 1: TOES- PART 1
(Yes, there will be two parts on this… kinda KILL BILL-like)
Toes. We’ve pretty much all got ‘em. Typically ten of ‘em. They aid us in traction, balance and help keep pedicurists gainfully employed. They feel like the less useful and less attractive cousins to our fingers. And other than stubbing your toe, which painfully reminds us they’re present, toes typically stay hidden in your shoes and fly under the radar.
For the most part, my toes are pretty typical. Five on each foot. My second toe is a hair longer than my big toe, which is not uncommon. There are stories that people with a slightly longer second toe have Celtic origins or descend from royalty. I’m cool with that. If Arthur can be hailed as King of Camelot by pulling a sword from a stone, why can’t my long toe at least earn me a knighthood?
But all is not well in the kingdom of Scott’s toes.
RUNNER: “Your nipples might bleed.”
ME: “Can you say that again?”
RUNNER: “Your nipples might bleed.”
ME: “My nipples might what?”
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?
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.
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.
“Gotta Blame it on something. Blame it on the rain” –Milli Vanilli
This morning at the gym, my iPod shuffle stopped playing mid-workout. The battery had been failing over the past few weeks and even quit during the final two miles of the Atlanta Half Marathon. I thought maybe it was my damn fault for not charging it fully.
A quick trip to the Apple store today confirmed my fears. The diagnosis was terminal. My little shuffle had played “Ooh Eeh Ooh Ah Aah Ting Tang Walla Walla Bing Bang” for the final time.
As I stood in line at Best Buy tonight to purchase my replacement shuffle (okay, so my mourning period was brief), I realized this was the third iPod that running had claimed. It also made me think about the first time I killed an iPod.