KRAC Blog

Floyd Landis says that his abnormal test may have been caused by Jack Daniels, thus validating the training methodology and philosophy of our organization. (Update: there may be something to this defense. Who knew?

The url for Coles is terrible: I was sure it was "Meet Meat At Coles dot com", and it really threw me. "It's not that kind of a bar," I thought to myself. "What could they have been thinking?" Of course, just as Jimi Hendrix wasn't saying, "'Scuse me while I kiss this guy," the reality here was different. "Meet Me At Coles dot com" makes a lot more sense. A good time to meet at Coles would be August 5, when they are having an IPA festival. I've moved a court appearence so that I can be sure of my availability.

Fantasy Sports Championship Rings. Wow. If you give yours to your inflatable girlfriend, does it mean you are going steady? (Via Pop Culture Junk Mail.)

The Ninth Annual Self-Transcendence 3,100 Mile Race. 5649 laps. You've heard of Around the Bay? This is Around the Block. (Via Sportsfilter.)

Weekend Sports Roundup: During the World Cup we heard a lot of yammer about how the US will never be a world power in soccer because it is a 'marginal sport' here. Setting aside, for the moment, the fact that the US is a world power in soccer (we qualify for the World Cup, didn't we? Try telling Belgium that it isn't a soccer power.), how does this argument square with the now eight year run of Americans winning the Tour de France? Could there be a sport more marginal to the US than cycling? It's on the Outdoor Life Network, for crissake! (Oh yeah. So's hockey.) Good profile of Floyd Landis here: I like the fact that when he discovered that lacked the "high-intensity intermittent component" and needed short (ten-second-to-two-minute) bursts of maximum-wattage power, he went out and got some: "At home in Murrieta, California, Landis began to finish each climb with a prolonged breakneck sprint. He called it Steep Hill Interval Training--—a pleasing acronym--—and by winter the numbers began to come. He found he could push 1,250 watts for five seconds, as opposed to 900 the previous year--a 39 percent improvement. Which means that on a steep, Tour-type climb, New Floyd will ride 3.7 miles per hour faster than Old Floyd for those five seconds, enough to open a gap of eight meters." What do you know-- it worked.

Watching A-Rod melt down is just miserable. It took me a few days to come up with the name, but I got it finally:Steve Sax, committed 30 errors in 1983. Rodriguez's mind is filled with spiders, and there's nothing to be done about it except to ride it out. Sure, he'd probably be right as rain if he were traded elsewhere, but there's nobody else that'll have him. He's priced out of the market for just about everybody but the Mets and the BoSox. Oddly, I never liked Sax until he started struggling. He always killed the Mets when he was with the Dodgers, but when he came to the Yanks he got more likable. Guess it doesn't work like that for everyone.

Finally, I'm loving my Metropolitans: first team in major league history to hit four grand slams in a five-game span.

State is ready to pardon Keith Richards. Although he is a Republican, I kinda like Mike Huckabee. He's a runner-- maybe we should send him a shirt.

"We reach the tiny French village of Bourg-d'Oisans, and I wave to the crowd with both hands. Then I make a big turn, the first of 21 leading to the top of the steep mountain. And I realize that I've made a terrible mistake. The race needed to end right there."

I think we ought to think about this.

I thought I'd scout out the Clarence bike path, so I threw my bike on the car and rode out to the country. Right off Main Street on Salt Road there is a parking lot where one of them starts. It's a rails-to-trails deal, very flat, very straight, slightly over five miles out, five miles back. At the 3.1 mile mark it branches-- on the way back I took the fork and found that it went four miles out.

It has a much more rural feel than the Amherst path. You see the occasional backyard, there was the back of a trailer park, and it runs by part of a golf course, but it is mostly wooded, or farmland. Very little shade, and you'd want to be sure to bring water. It would be a nice change of pace for an easy ten miler, I'd say, not as nice as the river, not as challenging as the Ridge, but something different.

I'll check out the Peanut Line, maybe next week.

Here's a brilliant 1983 rant by Lee Elia who was manager of the Cubs, ripping the fans and the Chicago press. Lenny Bruce can't touch this-- I put it on my iPod.

There is a table on the mezzanine outside my office, set up by the Just Buffalo Literary Center, full of used books. It is an eclectic mix-- a lot of just dreadful stuff, a lot of stuff that looks like it's been in the attic for the last thirty years, and an occasional gem. I'm not sure what category the copies of "How to Talk Dirty and Influence People" and "The Essential Lenny Bruce" belong in-- attic stuff, I think, but I have mostly never found Bruce to be all that funny. Still, I thought I'd have a look inside, just to see if there was something that grabbed me, and I found this:

"The reason I don't get hung up usually with doing anything I've done on records is that-- well the reason I'm in this business, I assume all performers are-- it's 'Look at me, Ma, look at me Ma.' And if your mother watches, you'll show off till you're exhausted; but if your mother goes Ptshew!....

So I knew if I ever do everything you want record-wise:

'What do you want me to do?'

'Do Religions Incorporated, and do the Hitler bit, and do the Pope bit, and do this bit, and the prison bit--'

and I do all the bits you want me to, you walk out,

'How do you like him?'

'Ah, alright. But every time you see him it's the same shit, man.'

I never want that, Jim, so I got to be one step this way, this way, this way, all the time with you.

But I'm going to do one bit for you. It's a bit about a comedian, a comedian that thinks there's such a thing as a 'class room,' that rooms have identity. And he's got a manager, and the scene opens up in Sherman Oaks, California. The pool isn't in yet, but the patio's dry."

I still don't know what it means, but we are hot on the trail.

Jim, before he changed shirts.

The Captain shows how it's done.

Making it look easy has never been an issue for me.

Jim's young apprentice, Chris, makes it look easy.

"Altreutisco". There are all kinds of reasons that I am not a Brazillian soccer superstar, but perhaps this is the main one. What's Your Brazillian Soccer Name? (Via kottke.)

"I feel great. I can't wait to get back on stage again. Everything's cool. I was out only for six weeks, not bad for a brain job."

Just in time for next year's Boilermaker, the OD has a set of mile by mile tips (my annotations are in parentheses, together with my splits):

"Mile One: Go with the flow. Trying to zig-zag through traffic expends energy you may need later on. (I'll have to remember to try this some year. 10:27)

Mile Two: A good place to settle in and set a nice comfortable pace. (11:14. Not that comfortable, dammit!)

Mile Three: Mile three's climb offers the first real test of the day-- grab some water or ice if you need it. (This is one of the prettiest stretches as well, marked by the attractive daughters of Utica's monied elite handing out water. 11:43)

Mile Four: The fourth mile is almost all uphill. Remind yourself that 'What goes up must come down'. (There hasn't been a year that I've run this that I'm not glad for all the time at the Ridge. I think the stretch before the golf course hill is actually tougher than the big hill. 12:46, but I had to adjust my hydration.)

Mile 5: You're on cruise control (unless you are a Utica teacher, then "your on cruise control")for much of Mile Five-- it's a good time to catch your breath. (See the llama. Have a popsicle. 10:19)

Mile 6: This section can get you down-- hang in there, hydrate, and work your way past Utica College as best you can. (Flat and hot, until you start to climb. And climb. 10:33)

Mile 7: Some of the largest, most vocal crowds line the end of Champlin Avenue, and can help prepare you for the last mile or so. (11:07)

Mile 8: The long climb up Whitesboro Street-- often into a bright morning sun, can take its toll if you're not careful." (10:16)

Mile 9: (10:51)(I coverered the last .3 in 2:57.)

This year I tried to think of the race in 5k bites, instead of mile by bloody mile. It helped, I think. The first third is finding the right pace; the second third is finding that you feel good, and that your training worked; and the last is the last-- burn it all, baby.

1:42.14 overall, averaging 10:57 miles. Looking over thos splits, it's not hard to see where I could have saved some time: I was 1:34:01 (10:05) last year, and a blazing 1:28:26 (9:29) in 04. Even so, it was over too quickly.

This is the movie I really want to see this weekend-- in French or in English-- what possible difference could it make? Maybe I'll go to Montreal this August, when it comes out.

As Jim turned onto Lancaster we saw A. driving off. "She must be on her way to work," I said, and when I got into the house CLA confirmed this. There was no way to know when she'd be getting back, so I pulled on a fresh shirt, and got on my bike to go to UB.

It's 8.3 miles from my house to Lockwood, which turns out to be closed on Saturdays in the summer. I was beginning to feel pretty bonked, but I didn't want to go back the way I had come. Main to Bailey, Bailey to Grover Cleveland-- it wasn't very pretty, and there was a lot of traffic. "I'll get a hotdog," I reckoned. Distances had telescoped in my mind, so I picked up the bike path and proceeded to Old Man River. After my hotdog I could have cut down to Sheridan, then gone home along Elmwood or Military, but a ride along the river would be prettier, and really, how many miles would I have saved?

The answer, actually, is "about eight", but I made it home with 28 behind me, and still had time to shower and get to Coles. Jim and I watched the surprising French wax the Brazillians, and enjoyed a Racer or two, but I was in no shape for "Loves Labors Lost" thereafter, and fell asleep on the hill.

I love the summer.