he gave her a roomful of chippendale

that nobody sits in
— the prophet joni mitchell

sorta race tomorrow. hill of death three times? what the.

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3.1 miles, 36:18 (11:43)


facebook analyzed my posts from the past few weeks and came to this conclusion. apparently i am leaving mo for marcia, i am a sucker for perfect pizza, and i enjoy painting eggs. i suppose you can’t question science.

which brings me to J.H. McLean’s Volcanic Oil Pain Relieving Linament. day 2 of no pain. this, after a couple of months of constant suffering. this stuff is a magic elixer.

i felt strong through the whole thing again. ernie pook on the turtle loop. kinda crazy. at the start of the week i was giving it up forever. today i’m pointing to saturday race. nuts.

i guess it’s like the old running maxim: “chick rain bacon give.”

never question science.

3.1 miles, 36:18 (11:43)
2 p.m., whale, 90 8n
11:21, 11:54, 11:55
176, 0.78
ernie pook

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2 miles, 23:49 (11:53)

so i figured what the hell.

i ditched the clown shoes and dragged out ernie pook (the third-generation piranhas), went to the jackalope and ran. no padding, no sole, no support or control. just 4 1/2 ounces of man i can’t believe these things still smell this bad.

and maybe that was the secret.

that slightly greater leg extension from a faster pace seems to take the pain away from the knee. maybe a bit more of a heel strike and roll? longer stride? underwear gnomes? pain couldn’t stand the stench?  i’m not sure, but i ran 2 miles and it didn’t hurt. like, really didn’t hurt.

maybe it just took a day for the J.H. McLean’s Volcanic Oil Pain Relieving Linament to kick in? possibly. maybe a fluke? could be. either way is ok by me. 2 miles of pinching myself. only 2 miles because it’s harder than you would think to run while pinching yourself.

i guess we’ll see. but maybe the key to running is that i need to be running. this stuff is simpler than you would think.

thanks, ernie pook.

2 miles, 23:49 (11:53)
2 p.m., jackalope, 88 7n
11:49, 11:58
177, 0.76

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3.1 miles, 46:16 (14:56)

so it’s come to this.

i was thinking today about the old days and how some guys would do Really Bad Things to their bodies in the name of training. one of those things was DMSO.

 DMSO was a horse linament that you could buy at the feed store. it was said to have magical healing power, and a lot of runners swore by it. drug testing was a bit more lax in those days, as was common sense about allowing your body to absorb stuff you didn’t understand. oh, those wacky ’70s.

fast forward 30 years, and here i was staring at the Dr. J.H. McLean’s Volcanic Oil Pain Relieving Linament i had just  bought for mo in an effort to kill her in her sleep. 

LINAMENT! it had to be a sign. you never know.

So i doused my left knee and waited. and waited. to be exact, i waited till the brady bunch was over. priorities, you know. i had a hunch this group would somehow form a family. and then i went out to run.

except i didn’t, because it still hurts. a lot. horses much have a much higher threshold of pain than me. or possibly i need to be spurred a bit. 

it was an ok stroll with a little jogging thrown in. the first sub-80 day in about 12 years. sad to have wasted it.

bottom line: although this stuff smells just horrid, it appears to not solve my problem, the problem being that my knee has no cartilage and i will never run again.

so tomorrow we try the Great Tempo Only Experiment of 2016. maybe after a swig of the Dr. J.H. McLean’s Volcanic Oil Pain Relieving Linament. because you never know.

even when you do. 

3.1 miles, 46:16 (14:56)
2 p.m., whale, 79-9n
14:57, 24:54, 15:06
144, 0.75

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12 days off 

i guess i’m done with this whole running thing.

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6.2 miles, 1:28.42 (14:17)

can you get arrested for wearing a shirt with an elf saying “bite me”? i was about to find out.

i was rummaging through the shirt box looking for a victim when i saw it. the christmas shirt. it was from a race a couple years back. demonic looking elf. i had vowed last year to wear it every day from thanksgiving to chirstmas or something like that. not sure. too much eggnog. not really. i hate eggnog. maybe rum GU. nah, i hate rum. maybe a 1554 and the lost gonzo band. anyhow, mo objected because of the clause that didn’t allow washing of said shirt for the duration. end result: a christmas fist fight, resulting in the elf offering his colorful commentary in sharpee. i never wore it again. end of story.


i wanted to wear it because it’s white and tech material, but i wondered if it’s legal to say “bite me” on the sidewalk along the G-rated beach. chamber of commerce, you know. but i figured what are the odds of getting caught. off season, too hot for people to be out, whatever. an adventure.

it was an ok run. today was day 1 of the Selena 10k Mi Tío Boni Marathon Diez y Deis Dime Box Siesta Fiesta Extravaganza (Now With Lanolin) ©, so i was sort of excited in that i’m not really excited at all kind of way. miles is miles. but as i came up on the turn, i saw him: a bicycle cop.

he rode by slowly in the opposite direction, looking at the shirt. which i figured was a normal curious reaction. and then he turned around. i plotted my alternatives. swim for it. political immunity. sprint. t-mobile. but then i realized it had to be a coincidence. he rode by slowly. then he stopped.

i ran by him nervously. he was pretending to talk on his cell phone, clearly calling in SWAT. no, you moron. he’s just talking on the phone. ditch the 16-year-old hippie paranoia. just run. all is well.

then he came by AGAIN. got just in front of me. and stopped again. pulled out phone again.

i was a goner for sure. confess? turn myself in? self-tasing? i weighed my options and did what i had to do. i took off the shirt and stuffed it in the front of my shorts. answering krg’s question from a couple days ago.

he never came by again, certain proof i thwarted his arrest plot. the rest of the run was the usual uneventful heat stroke. still a 10k. good step toward dime box.

was he really after me? the naysayer would say it was all a coincidence. actually, the naysayer would just say nay. to which i would say: bite me. bidi bidi bom bom.

6.2 miles, 1:28.42 (14:17-134)
selena 10k, 1 p.m., 90-9n
12:47, 13:48, 15:28, 14:18, 14:55, 14:54, 2:33
152, 0.74
hokey pokey 20

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2 miles, 27:28 (13:35)


in my defense, i examined it closely, and NOWHERE does it say “caution: do not leave this candle exposed to direct sunlight in 95 degree weather for three days you moron.” or else this story would have turned out differently. or not.

i had to pick mo up at the car shop today (because it would have been soooooooo hard for her just to walk home 2 miles harumph) which meant my semiannual clean out the passenger seat ordeal. one of the benefits of being a bitter recluse is that you can pile up stuff in the passenger seat. plus you don’t have to share oreos.

and so, there i was going through the rubble when i came upon the Willie Nelson Prayer Candle. i had taken it home from its trip to see jim last week and left it in the car. it was dark at the time and i was tired. i never thought about it again. until now.

Willie was sideways in the car. melted wax was everywhere. if the definition of everywhere is an unfortunate asu baseball cap and a curt cobain replica flannel shirt. aghast (and aghast is NOT a good look for me), i stuck it in the running cooler to prevent further damage.

i picked up mo, we went for a short run (we used to call them midget runs, but then the PC police and all) and i came home. when i pulled the candle out of the cooler, i realized that in hindsight it’s likely not best to immerse a piece of paper glued on to a glass cylinder in water. so basically i have both melted Willie Nelson AND drowned him. this is the worst Willie Nelson experience since the time i gave the Curly Headed Kid my beloved willie nelson autographed farm hat as a sign i would never dump her, then dumped her shortly thereafter. she declined to give it back. karma is a ritz cracker.

so basically, it’s too damn hot to run, Willie Nelson hates me, and i want a ritz cracker. but the knee felt a little better, the run was short but fun and you never know when you’ll need a wax-covered curt cobain replica flannel shirt, so i guess it was an ok day.

sorry, willie. ummm, could you autography my wax baseball cap? thanks a bunch.

2 miles, 27:28 (13:35-133)
1 p.m., jackalope, 93-6n
13:07, 13:58
164, 0.72

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