Wiener Race 2010

It all started with an article.  Or was it an add?  Whatever it was, Chelsey found it in the Thursday newspaper while we were at Jazz on the Green. 

"This Saturday!  Wiener Races in Syracuse, Nebraska in honor of GermanFest."

We jumped to attention.  Wiener dogs?  We have a wiener dog!  We love wiener dogs.  There was a phone number.  Chelsey called it, hoping for a message that offered more details.  She got more than she bargained for...

A very nice lady answered the phone at 8:30pm, and told Chelsey that we would have no problem entering our dog Deuce at this later juncture.  She told us where to get the registration form.  That was all we needed. We were going to Syracuse!

Chelsey called the vet and got any up-to-date list of Deuce's shots.  I made some slight alterations to my previous Saturday plans - running in a 5k.  We trimmed up Deuce's Saints jersey, making the necessary adjustments for him to run super fast.  I brought up some wiener racing videos on youtube. They made Deuce bark.

The next day, Chelsey picked me up from a post 5k breakfast, and we were off.  Chuck was there too.  We made our way to Syracuse.  The drive mostly consisted of two-lane highways.  Chelsey was at the wheel and everything was looking good.

Until we hit the construction.  We are already cutting it close.  Would this push us over the ledge of lateness?  We sat and waited to be escorted across the aforementioned construction, while the gentleman behind us got out of his car, lit up a cigarette and talked up the construction worker holding the stop sign.

We got moving again, and made it to town with plenty of time to spare.  There were wiener dogs everywhere.  Small ones.  Big ones, white ones, black ones, skinny ones, fat ones.  It was so great.  All these little wieners, walking the street in peace and harmony.  No barking.  Just wieners.

We killed an hour, waiting for the race.  As Deuce's heat grew near, we could feel the tension rising.  Deuce started pysching out other dogs.  He actually snapped at a dog that wasn't even in his weight group.  (Deuce was a "Little Smokie." The dog in question was a "Brat.") Chelsey defused things by looking for another dog to adopt.

We handed the camera to Chuck, giving him all too brief instructions on how to shoot video.  A decision that would cost us in the long run.

Finally our heat was called to the starting block.  I took in Deuce, and put him in the first lane.  We walked up to meet Chelsey, who would be standing at the end of the lane.  We made the connection. It was all clear.  Deuce knew Chelsey was at the end of the race.  He would go meet her as quickly as possible.  We would win the race.  I would throw Deuce in the air.  We would would drink beer out of a boot.

What happened instead shocked us all.  The lady said "go!"  All the dogs took off.  Deuce just sat there.  Then he milled around a little, sniffing along the way.  Finally, he found a friendly lady next to the race cage, and started licking her hand.  Race over.  We were the losers.

We decided that since we didn't leave, we didn't need to drink beer out of a boot.  We piled into the car.  On the way out of town, we asked Chuck about the video.  Turns out those filming instructions were a bit too brief.  Nothing on the camera. 

But we did get the chance to get some really cute pictures of Deuce on the way home.  For most of the ride he had this huge smile on his face.  A smile that said to us "I really did great on that race." 

No you didn't Deuce.  No you didn't. 

Brent's elbuzzard 1/2 Year Music Post

Every year around this time, Kent and I swap email about how crappy the music is that year. Then by the year’s end, we manage to like 20 or so albums enough to make our lists that no one reads. This year is no different. Except this year, I vow to give up on more music earlier. Here is my list of keepers and throw awayers.



Keepers (in alphabetical order)



Broken Bells – Nothing wrong with this album. But it’s not that great either. But it’s not that bad.



Charlotte Gainsbourg – I have finally embraced this album all the way. It has three or four high points. The rest is just okay.



The National – More of the same from the National. Songs about my lame life. Really good.



She & Him – Sweet music. Really good production. I’m in love with both members.



Sleigh Bells – This has most of my favorite summer songs thus far. Loud crashy cheerleader music. It’s not new, but it’s nice to get a new spin on it.



Surfer Blood – Dave, I think maybe you would like this. It reminds me of the 90’s but maybe not the 90’s that you liked the best. But still worth trying.



Titus Andronicus – I like this album, but I feel like its akin to eating way more food than one should. It just wears me out. Still waiting for it to click.



Vampire Weekend – The rest of my favorite summer songs are on this cd.



Throw Awayers



Beach House – Dear Beach House, You make really boring music. Signed, Brent.



Caribou – Dear Caribou, I don’t understand what you are trying to do. But I see that others do. So there you go.



Gil Scott Heron – Dear Gil-Scott Heron, Even if you were the coolest person ever, there would still be no reason to make this music. No reason.



Gorillaz – Dear Gorillaz, Good for you.



Janelle Monae – Dear Janelle, Kent made fun of me when I wanted to listen to you. Kent was right. Thanks for that.



Roky Erickson & Okkervil River – Dear Roky, Thanks for making an album that puts a permanent blemish on the careers of Okkervill River. I’m not sure they could have done it themselves.



Okay. All done. There are still plenty of cds that are still under consideration for the year-end awards. So don’t give up, Ruby Suns and Morning Benders.

Hot times in O Town

So then, when you know what's up with you, post here about when you're on vacation, what you'd like to do/host, and good ideas about sneaking out of Crown Pointe without anyone noticing.

I've got this so far:
1. Brent -- 1 to 1 1/2 days vacation, wants to do zoo, spacey museum, possibly cookout
2. Chuck -- ?? vacation, wants us to visit him at work, will provide weird dog so we won't get homesick
3. Chelsey -- 0 vacation, wants to do nails, loves only outdoor pools b/c they make her more beautiful

All are welcome at our room/pool/old-peopled good times.

Just go ahead and update here, and I'll try to come up with a schedule. Brent, I hope your magic email trick works on this one.

What are we going to do?

So last week I found out Wendy and the twins are coming in town at the end of July.  Which begs the question, of what sort of good times can we get into while she is in town.   Here is my list of ideas, assuming we can get them away from Grandma's apartment:

1) Zoo - new Madagascar exhibit. What?
2) Ice Cream - everyone loves ice cream?
3) Indoor Swimming - I hear their hotel has a pool.  Possibly indoors.
4) Outdoor Swimming - Pirate Cove - in Council Bluffs - priced just high enough to keep the riff raff out.
5) Amazing Pizza Machine - buffet. games. go carts. good times.  all under one roof.
6) Punch Chuck in the gnads.
7) Drive into the country - leave grandma out there.  debate about whether we want to go back and get her. 

Fathers Day Gift Buying Guide

This weekend is fathers day. This being the case, I thought I should really get on the stick and get my dad his present.  So I knew what I wanted to get him: a Saints Superbowl shirt because I am trying to force my fandom on the rest of my family this year, through ugly Saints-themed tshirts.

So I went online to pick out a shirt, and found the one I wanted, but it was only like 15 bucks. So I thought I would get him some sporty shorts, as he just joined a gym for the first time in his life. Okay – so I get the shirt and the shorts, and I get to the shipping part, and it says it could take anywhere between 4 days and 14 days to get there. This makes me mad.

So I do what I do whenever something gets me mad on the internet. I go to zappos. I have now scrapped the saints shirt gift, and am looking just for athletic shorts. I figure, I can get him some shorts, and support my favorite online vendor ever, and all will be well.  So I am looking at all their athletic shorts, and I don’t see anything that I feel good about. People in my family do not appreciate $30 name brand athletic shorts, and that’s all zappos has. So I then think that perhaps I could buy him a pair of shoes – although I think at that point I was just shopping for myself. I then see these shoes that I now have an uncontrollable urge to buy.

I have given up on my dad completely.  I am just trying to stave the little voices in my head that keep telling me I should have these, despite the fact I have absolutely no need to buy another pair of running shoes.

Those things are badass.

Tendon Sick

Here's a terrific development from my moment of achievement two weeks ago.  The extra wear and tear of thirteen miles seems to have somehow injured my achilles tendon.  Now whenever I do anything the slightest bit physical - like say, dig up a garden, I get an intense pain in my achilles tendon.  We're talking about pain that would be akin to someone kicking me in the achilles tendon with a sledge hammer.  I realize that one cannot kick with a sledgehammer, but that's how it feels.  I looked it up on webmd.  It sounds like achilles tendinitis.  It's common for middle aged men, who have recently increased their running distance. So my great achievement has really just become a friendly reminder of how old I am.  Great.

It Is Finished

I successfully ran 13.1 miles this past Sunday at the Lincoln Marathon.  This is longer than I ever thought I could run, and my body continues to remind me that it was a horrible idea.  Here is my review of the weekend.

THE PRE-RACE:

I went up before the race with other people from Goodwill who were also running the race.  Pre-race activities go like this.  First you get your bib and chip and everything.  Then you go to a spaghetti feed.  I picked up my stuff without incident, then proceeded to wait for others from our party to show in the lobby of Embassy Suites.  As I age, I become less and less patient with big groups - as it relates to planning.  The best number to make plans with with is 6.  After that, everyone should just go their own way.  The Goodwill Running Club does not subscribe to this point of view.  So about 10 of us attempted to eat at the Spaghetti dinner.  That meant splitting up, which I immediately thought was awesome.  While everyone tried to clear out seats near each other, I splintered off and sat with some strangers.  They were very nice, and didn't talk to me.  But the Goodwill Running Club was nice enough to find an extra seat for me, so I was called back into the fray.  The fray turned out to be okay, however, as I was a sat next to the siblings of my co-worker's wife.  I didn't know them from a hill of beans, and it was nice getting to know them a little.  Except they kept eating.  They had two full plates of pasta and salad.  I believe we sat there for 2 hours.  I did have two bomb pops while I was waiting. 

We then went back to the hotel.  It was an old Holidome, so it had a swimming pool and putt putt golf.  It felt like the sort of hotel I stayed at when I was a kid, except that this time I was drinking.  I also scored a free beer, because the bartender didn't know how to ring anything up.  I went to bed at about 10pm. 

At 5:30 I woke up and did some stretching.  I also ate this power bar thing and drank some water.  Super nervous.  Convinced we were going to get there late. 

THE RACE:
We got to the race just as they were telling everyone to line up.  This made me very nervous, but it turns out they tell you to line up for a long time.  So we took some pictures.  Everyone from Goodwill had a blue shirt except for me.  Mine was too small.  It really accentuated my boobs, while not forgetting about my gut.  I had to fight not to wear it, as many in the Goodwill running club felt that it would be okay to wear it "just for pictures." I felt like the prospect of pictures was exactly why wearing it was a bad idea.  They didn't seem to understand.  But I had to foresight to leave it in Omaha.

There were about 6,000 people in the race, so even though the gun went off promptly at 7am, we didn't actually start for another 20 minutes.  This was really fun.  Sitting in a crowd of nervous people, full of anxiety, making small talk, asking about shirts.  Then we finally started running.  I was so nervous I had forgotten to cue up my chosen audio for the run: the local New Orleans broadcast of the Super Bowl.  I clumsily started it up while running, and set out to find my pace.

The funny thing about running with 6,000 other people is that you can literally be passing people throughout the race, and still be one of the real losers of the race.  It was crazy.  I passed so many people.  For the first 8 miles, I was constantly running by people.  I kept checking myself to make sure I wasn't running too fast, but it seemed like everything was okay.  The route of the race takes you through mostly city streets, but for a large stretch, it goes on a narrow path along a highway.  This made the passing much more difficult, but also took my mind off the fact that I had been running 7 miles, and still had 6 to go. 

Now might be a opportune time to discuss a segment of the runners that appear to only be on the course to discourage.  This is the subset who go back and forth between running and walking.  You pass them while they are walking, and moments later they pass you when they decide to run.  This is not fair.  If you are going to run, then run.  But once you have started walking, you should have to stay that way.  This is particularly frustrating when you are about to pass someone, and they start running along side you.  Sometimes faster than you.  Many people did this to me.  And I wanted to kill them all.  I also wanted to kill the people on the narrow path, who saw fit to run in large groups.  I'm all for togetherness while running (really I'm not), but it seems like there are some times where single file just makes sense.  Everyone else I loved.  There was just a really good feeling oozing all around.

So at about mile 9, I started to fade.  I had run 10 miles in the past but the prospect of having 4 more to go, made this part of the race the most trying.  It was also mostly uphill.  Chelsey and Chuck had showed up at about mile 5, and I was desperately looking for them again to give me some encouragement.  I was told that the encouragement would make a big difference, but thought it might just stir up rage for someone like me.  Not at all the case.  The constant cheering from the crowd really helped.  Complete strangers yelling "Come on Green!" (I was wearing a Green shirt) somehow made the tough times less tough.  But seeing Chuck and Chelsey were certainly the high points.  I knew I would see them again at about mile 10 or 11, and I was just holding on until them.  Finally I saw them.  I remember asking them where I was, and one of them saying mile 11.  This was of great relief to me, as I knew I had two more miles in me, but wasn't sure about three.

I basically held on the rest of the way.  Chuck showed up again at about mile 12 (Chelsey was using the restroom), and Memorial Stadium was within view.  It seemed like it took forever to get inside the stadium (as marathon runners passed me - mind you), but I made it out onto the field, and ran to the 50 yard line.

I got my medal and I was done.

THE POST-RACE

Completely exhausted, and packed under the stadium with about 4,000 other exhausted people.  I grabbed some water, and attempted to find some fruit.  There was a huge line to the fruit (and oatmeal - who want oatmeal after a run?) so I just walked around.  I found another Goodwill runner and waited around for like an hour and a half to organize a picture of all of us.  I would just like to say again how much I hate big groups.

We finally left the stadium, and Chuck took us to the hotel.  I showered up, and Chelsey and I headed downtown to get some food.  The place we went to served Abita, which was a nice treat, but neither of us felt all that great.  Me because I was physically dead tired, her because she was also sleepy dead tired.  Downtown Lincoln is just lovely by the way.  Just lovely.  Chelsey drove us home after we ate, and I laid around the rest of the day.  My thighs were worthless for the next two days.

So that's the story.  I really enjoyed the running.  I hope I keep it up, but I'm nervous that the absence of a race will keep me from doing so.  I guess I will always have this race though.  I ran 13.1 miles at a rate of 10:58 per mile.  Which is really miserably slow.  But almost a minute better than when I started running miles in January.  It's pretty cool to think that I could barely run two miles back then.  And it's cool to think that I never have to do this again if I don't want.