Terrible Analogies

Somehow, through the course of normal conversation at work, it slipped out that I was training to run up Mt. Whitney in September.  Now, there’s no guarantee that I’ll be given the opportunity to do this because the results of the yearly lottery haven’t been announced yet, but I’m going to assume that I’ve secured a spot on the mountain this year.  Anyway, the admission that I was planning on running the tallest mountain in the continental United States drew a reaction of disbelief and mocking distain.  I was accosted with questions such as “Why would you do that?”, “You’re how old?”, and “When was the last time you trained at altitude?”.

It really gets me when somebody can’t quite figure out what drives a person to do something out of the ordinary, when they can’t be bothered to understand their motivation for doing such a thing, and instead of trying to connect on the most superficial of levels they turn their back and make snide comments.  It’s during moments like this, when people who you get along with in a professional sense suddenly turn on you like an abused animal, that I sometimes feel like an alien.

But hey, that’s okay.  The way I see it is that when people are shown their limitations they tend to disavow and cast aside such ideas as absurd and unthinkable.  It’s a defensive mechanism.

To let you in on a little secret, I’ve always been a fit individual.  I’m a life-long runner and a weight lifter.  I like to physically push myself, see how my body reacts, and to discover how much pain I can endure.  When I was a kid instead of toys I got running shoes and paid admittance to local 10K’s.  Instead of partying in high school I went out for track.  When I got my ass handed to me in a fight a few years ago I started lifting weights, knowing that next time I’ll be prepared to defend myself, and I wouldn’t hold back.  The last time a jerk called me out, he did so at a stop light.  Ya see, this particular idiot cut my wife off, then flipped us the bird and motioned with his hand, daring me to come get him.  When I got out of my car to oblige (under the objections of the wife) and crossed two lanes of traffic to find out what his problem was I could literally see his face turn white and the panic of prey set in his eyes.  Like a switch flipped on, I could see the instant this guy knew he was in over his head.  I have to admit, that’s a feeling no drug could recreate, knowing that I absolutely owned this guy.  That I had him trembling, praying to God that I wouldn’t knock his teeth out.  But, being the guy that I am, I simply had a few choice words for Mr. Tough Guy, embarrassing him in front of what I’m guessing was his kid.  I’m not a naturally violent person, but the fear in his eyes….man, that was an amazing rush.

Anyway, when people question in a derisive tone why I lift or run, I don’t take it personally, but I do purposely internalize their words and use them as fuel when I’m working out.  The way I see it, somebody has to tame the mountain and desert trails.  Might as well be me.

Wherever I go I always carry around my Canon PowerShot SD770 “blackeye”.  It’s impossible to know exactly when a camera will come in handy.  Fed up with the quality of my cell phone pictures my wonderful wife surprised me with this amazing tiny camera for Christmas.  It’s subtle and far more convenient than lugging around my Nikon D200 everywhere I go.

Here is a quick overview of four pictures taken within the space of ten hours today:

Arriving at work the first thing I typically do is consume some sort of energy drink.  Today I overdid it and slammed down not just a Mana energy drink but also one of their newly released health drinks and a Monster.  Lemme tell ya, if you think it’s easy to code sober try it while woozy, shaking, and sweating from an overdose of chemicals spelled with more than 15 characters and six syllables, containing nearly 7000% the daily recommended dose of B12 , and 160 milligrams of caffeine.  Better living through chemistry…

For lunch I went to the gym, then made a quick run to the mall to pick up a tuna sandwich.  Killing a few minutes I stepped into a store where I saw this sad display of Brett Favre “action figures”.  Evidently they’re unable to unload this particular item, even with a 40% discount.  It appears that Favre’s star had fallen so hard that even Warren Moon is easily outselling the Favre figures.  QQ…

On my drive home I happened to fall in line at the metered freeway light behind this particular vehicle whose license plate was just too cool not to photograph.

Winding down for the day I managed to catch this condescending commercial that takes place in the front yard of a middle-class suburban home.  The man of the house has apparently wandered outside with a cereal box gingerly tucked in the crook of his arm, holding a bowl of said cereal floating gingerly in a pool of perfectly chilled milk, his other hand lovingly scooping with a spoon mounds of fiber goodness into his open, quivering, expectant mouth.  Meanwhile, what I can only assume is a friendly (if not over-exuberant) neighbor who, wearing a particularly distracting sweater vest and speaking in a thick Indian accent, explains in painfully detailed prose the health benefits of the cereal his now glassy-eyed neighbor with the 1000-yard stare is serenely consuming.

Outside.  In his bathrobe.  While a woman, who I can only assume is his wife, stares disdainfully at him.

In what reality does this occur, and why am I having such a difficult time wrapping my brain around these visuals?  Is it just me?

I was ready to wrap it up for the day.  It was near midnight, Karin and I had just finished watching Delecatesin on DVD, and I had to get up early for work the next day.  I promised Karin that I’d be following her upstairs as soon as I “quickly straightened up the living room”, which in reality is code for “I’ll be upstairs after I channel surf for a few”, and she knows it.  

There I was, alone and…well, alone.  The wife had gone upstairs leaving me to my own devices. With thumb pressed firmly on the “up” button of the remote I scrolled through a myriad of infomercials, syndicated reruns, and strongman competitions, but paused when I saw something…unusual.  At first I was unsure what I was watching.  Was the twitching kid on stage writhing in pain or in the throes of religious rapturous fervor?  Bewildered, I continued to watch for several minutes before I finally became convinced that what I was viewing wasn’t an alcoholic deep in the throws of a D.T. induced seizure, but rather a competitor in what was the 2007 Duncan Yo-Yo championship.

Fascinated and unable to turn away, from 11pm to midnight I was glued to the television watching these kids bounce, juggle, and twist their yo-yos through gyrations and practiced programs that at times blurred the vision of even the most eagle-eyed observer.  At first I was confused, then amused, then I found myself cheering for some of these competitors as they leapt and convulsed their way through undulating, dexterous, whirlwind routines.

I’m the kind of guy who enjoys going to track and field meets and local power-lifting competitions.  I hunt down and attend the small but important discus meets (my personal favorite spectator sport because you can get up and close to the competitors, and for the fact that my dad taught me how to throw).  I enjoy lifting weights and participating in road races.  Given all of this, even I could respect the skill of these competitors as they ran through complex and delicate yo-yo routines.  Under the pressure of the lights, cameras, and a live audience these guys show what a little dedication and a metric ton of practice can produce.  For such a niche scene these kids really shine, and for that a bow down to them.

With a 52 to 21 victory over the Denver Broncos, the San Diego Chargers capture the AFC West title for the third time in as many years.  Looking like the Chargers of the 2006-2007 season they dominated over an opposition bereft of spirit and leadership. 

Swinging by Seau’s Restaurant in San Diego we found it to be completely overrun with fans.  With Junior and the Patriots besting the Bears in a gusty morning game and the Chargers busting heads with the Broncos in the afternoon the place was jumping all day long.

Game day at Seau's against the Broncos for the AFC Championship