Settin' Myself On Fire

Working on getting the perfect playlist dialed in iTunes...entitled "Marathon Man" of course. Cast your vote in the comments section if you want your song to get played :)

A full debrief will follow, after the main event. Clyde, Cali Agents, Screamer etc... i'll text you.

... all those nights on the open roads.... all those bugs in my open mouth... the kindling has all been used... we're down to the heavy stuff. We've got nothing left to burn... its time to set myself on fire.

Bug in Mouth Disease

Pheidippides proved that it could be done. Following the epic battle of Marathon, the Greek hero ran to Athens to announce the victory of the Athenians over the Persians. 42km, 26 miles; of running. To end the famous tale, Pheidippides died upon arrival. Although the greek legend transpired nearly 2500 years ago, the distance is still routinely traversed on foot. Although running has now become the battle itself, one aspect of the bittersweet event still rings true with runners everywhere. Despite endless hours of training, seemingly space age advances in technology, and scientific research, I routinely experience near death experiences out on the roads. Cause of death would not be reported as vehicular or accidental.... not suicide... not homicide.... it would be an incurable case of bug in mouth disease; the rarely reported death by insect: insecticide.

The next section should be read with caution, as many runners will cringe and cower from the graphic descriptions about to be presented. Insecticide begins with impairment of vision: the view ahead, of otherwise sunny space, becomes murky and forboding; like a dirty thumbprint on a contact lense. As you approach, you notice others emerging from the smog, waving yet unseen objects away from their face. When the light hits the smog in just the right way, you notice the definition among its objects; a cloud of insects swarming like a plague of locusts, rising like a geyser into the heavens.

Although the objects are now defined, there is little escape, for it is already too late. Because of an innate sense of the perfect annoyance coordinates, the insects have staked a claim to your destined sidewalk square, and there is nothing you can do about it. You can swerve, sway or duck, but there is no avoiding; momentum's a bitch.

Like the first raindrop splashing on a windshield, the first insect splattering on your forehead primes you for the imminent assault. The body's response is a clear case of evolutionary adaptation, every species has one for their most feared environmental afflictions. Like a camel battening down the hatches during a sandstorm, the human runner purses the lips and squints the eyes in the face of a bugstorm. Depending on the severity of the attack, a scientific property known as swarm-depth, the body can switch into a fight or flight state of survival: holding the breath and running at breakneck speeds in order to escape the cloud.

Although, I loathe these insects, and their affinity for my lungs, I cannot help but respect them for their persistence and courage. Thats right, I said courage. From the research I have conducted, it has become apparent that these flies live for a very short period of time, and spend the majority of their lives reproducing; an ethos of peace and love. To them, my heavy footsteps and unwavering trajectory must be an equally forboding image, as I approach their heavenward spiral of copulation. Now I ask you, if a giant of Godzilla-like proportion was bearing down on your peaceful society, would you be throw your body into the face of the beast? It is as if each fly that I remove from my hair, nostrils and eyelids following a run is like a fallen soldier in an ongoing war to preserve the ways of their society. How can one not be in awe of their skills in combat; the ability to single-handedly take down a giant foe unseen since David felled mighty Goliath with nothing more than a slingshot.

Legends are rife with poisonings and deception, destiny and divine intervention but, in retrospect, Pheidippides was most definitely struck down by this same affliction. An Athenian warrior, unscathed in battle, and able to traverse the distance to Athens, suddenly falls dead. Like another famous Greek, poor Pheidippides possessed a vulnerability, foretelling of his unfortunate demise. The lesson to be learned: don't be too quick to proclaim your victory to others, opening your mouth too wide can trigger every runner's achilles heel; don't let a fly through the lung be the cloud on an otherwise sunny day.

iToons

The past week has been a whirlwind combination of new tracks, rediscovered old tracks and some frighteningly regular soundwaves around here (damn you, Kanye!). There have been a lot of late nights lately, something that is not uncommon in a Ninja Base. After all, ninjas generally come out at night, because thats when the crime fighting action is at its best... and if ninjas were spied emerging from an underwater base during daylight hours, said underwater base could hardly be called "secret" anymore, now could it.

Late nights filled with crime fighting and source code have turned the soundscape into one of alt-country and songwriters:

Ryan Adams & The Cardinals - Cold Roses and Jacksonville City Nights... the first two albums of Ryan's 2005 trilogy...

Aaron Booth - Transparent. Huge thanks to fellow ninja, DT, for this one. Sparse and acoustic, reminiscent of Ben Gibbard, without the whine and Ben Folds, without the tendency to write bad songs.

Chad VanGaalen - Infiniheart. Again, DT came through on this one. Imagine if in some cosmic shift, Ryan Adams ended up fronting The Flaming Lips (Wayne Coyne could wear one of the bunny suits)... you'd end up with something resembling these songs... Blood Machine especially.

Gillian Welch - Revival. More country folk music.... wow.. are the ninjas going soft? Public Enemy to Gillian Welch? Nah... Billie the Kid was just as bad-ass as Chuck D...

Annie - DJ Kicks. No songwriters here. The same electro-pop princess who Pitchfork'd last year's #1 song (heartbeat) and has become a staple on my iPod Shuffle adds to the DJ Kicks series (K&D and Thievery Corporation)... this playlist is crazy awesome. Fav track: Death From Above 1979 - Black History Month (Alan Braxe & Fred Falke Remix).

There is no joy in Mudville...

I can remember the night that Mario Lemieux came back from his retirement and Michael Jordan's famous "I'm Back" press release... initial excitement and disbelief, followed by hesitation and nervousness about icons not living up to their past selves. But the nervousness would subside, as soon as the first game rolled around; seeing that familiar face in a familiar place brought back all of the initial enthusiasm. I have the same feelings about Lance Armstrong, who has only been gone for a little over a month now... I can't wait to see him ride again (yeah, its gonna happen).

So, tonight's the night. But it doesn't feel the same. A supposed icon of our time, has stepped to the plate, and returned to the stage from which he should captivate the hearts and minds of fans everywhere. But does anyone care? The feeling is not one of elation or intrigue, rather it resembles the courtesy smile that you might give an old friend at a party; an old friend whom you hoped you would never see again. A friend who did something that you can never forgive, but you only found out while they were away. A friend who doesn't quite understand why no one is happy to see them. Oh. Its you. Great.

I could be listening to the Giants game tonight; the magic of streaming audio could bring a digital San Francisco night into my bedroom. But I'm not. I could care less that if the NL West pennant race was re-enacted with horses, they'd all be sent to the glue factory (a sub .500 team will likely make the playoffs); there is always a certain feeling with games on the west coast, ( while your neighbour's are sleeping, they are still playing baseball.. somewhere) that allows me to enjoy any matchup as I fall asleep. You'd think that the return of perhaps the greatest hitter of all time would make a dent in my universe... but your thoughts would be wrong. The hard truth, is that I just have no desire to watch an admitted cheater break a record that doesn't deserve to be broken. And, in this respect, I don't think I'm alone.

Maybe the feeling isn't the same because Barry never retired... never officially gone. Where was he anyways? Hiding? I read scientific journals regularly, in search of the link between fear of steroid suspensions and swollen knees in left fielders. But I find no evidence. Funny thing, how evidence can seem so obvious, yet be so elusive when tests are administered. Maybe the feeling isn't the same because Barry should have retired...should have just disappeared. Should have recognized that the scam was over, and the secret was out, and called it a career. Instead, the career will probably live on as a technicality, sealed testimony protecting his admission of guilt as if it never happened.

The perfect comeback wouldn't be complete without a heroic introduction. And so, Barry stepped up to the plate, looking just as fans would remember him (with his protective football equipment strapped to his elbow) and in his first at-bat, launched a ball deep into the San Francisco night. Ironically, that first hit was not a home run. Instead, the story twisted...the first hit was a a ground rule double; without a doubt the most unnatural statistic in the sport. Awarded second base..on a technicality. My perfect version of the comeback, of course, would have been characterized by strikeouts and slumps uncurable by the greatest of biblical miracles. However, the lack of enthusiasm and the wealth of skepticism makes my perfect comeback complete... there is no joy in Mudville, for in the hearts of fans, Mighty Barry has already struck out.

Runblog part deux

Had the race today. Ran without a watch, didn't want to race against myself. Went well, finished in 19:16. Considerably better than day 1 in March; and they actually lengthened the course this time! Added the equivalent of a couple blocks... so, all in all, a good morning.

Grabbed a new David Gray live at KCRW and the new J5 album. Oink. I'm out

Runblog

Its been awhile since I posted about running. Didn't wanna bore diesel too much ;)

First off.... props to screamer on his first race today... ran a 5k in 23:10. Nice work my man!!

I think I'll run a 5k tomorrow morning, for a few reasons. It looks like it will be another perfect late summer (yeah, i'm not about to call it autumn yet) Sunday, so 5k of adrenaline will be a nice way to start the day. The race is the same course as the 5k that I ran to start this crazy summer of mileage, way back in March for St patricks day. Did that one in 20:50 i think... but that was cold and ugly..and not in shape. So tomorrow will be a nice way to gauge how far I've made come since then; I should be able to go under 20 minutes.

Secondly, tomorrow is the last day before the pre-big race taper! Did 8.5 miles tonight, then tomorrow I'll race in the morning, and do another long run in the evening, and then from here on out its all about getting rested up for the marathon on Oct 2. 75% week 1, 50% week 2 and then 25% on the last week. I've finally transitioned into running in the Mizunos that I bought way back when... there was a little incident that I'll refer to as Blistergate that sort of derailed some footwear plans, but everything seems ready for liftoff now. Mizunos are light, and fast.

Was such a hot day today, all of a sudden its cool, and dark. Smelled woodsmoke when I was running back into town; almost felt like winter.

Got another album by Roger Clyne & The Peacemakers, so that will be spinning tonight.

Leopard Skin, Let the Record Spin

Its that time again... when we grab the ultra high tech scientific sound sampling equipment to quickly catch the soundwaves contained in the bubbles that gurgle up from our top secret HQ.

Kanye West - Diamonds from Sierra Leone. I never thought I'd repost a soundwave... but damn. this just sounds so ... expensive...

Kasabian - L.S.F. (Lost Souls Forever)... the song Hope on REM's album UP was always a favourite of mine. This song sort of reminds me of that... sorta like an indie michael stipe on top of some Death In Vegas discarded track from the Contino Sessions.

Depeche Mode - Precious. Grabbed this one off iTunes. A few years back, I woke up to the clock radio in a hotel room. For a second, I had no idea where I was.... tinny sound coming out of a black box, blinking red lights... dark synthetic beats... Dave Gahan's sophisticated vocals... I was in Vienna, at a posh airport hotel... and the song was "I Feel Loved" from 2001's Exciter. This new single takes me back, like a sequel. Can't wait for the new album.

The Sounds - Rock'n'Roll. God Bless Sweden. Pop music is dead, long live pop music.

INXS - Mediate. From Live Baby Live... all this brutal reality TV about replacing Hutch. There is no replacement. No gong show can replace him. Also listening to Slide away...the collab between Bono and Hutchence...

Careers 101

Remember those tests you could take in the guidance office of your high school? Answer a bunch of questions, and they'd tell you what job matches you best. When I filled out that test, I got a perfect score. My destiny popped off the page like an illustration coming to life; I was going to join the circus.

I should've seen it coming... some of the questions seemed a little loaded, but I like answering boring questions creatively:

1. You are walking down the street and notice a crowd of people running scared from a lion. What do you do?
a) Run for your life.
b) Rescue the women and children.
c) Whip the lion until it lets you put your head in its mouth.

(Hint the right answer is c)

I never paid much attention to the results. I was going to play in the NBA - but then my destiny of becoming a 6'5" black point guard went awry... I stopped growing at 5'11 (and 3/4") and stayed white. Then I was going to run guns to Nicaragua (had the boarded up building chosen and everything), but that was too easy; needed more of a challenge. It wasn't until a summer of job searching left me in the dark that I remembered my original calling.

When you think about it, the benefits of the circus are overwhelming:

Firstly, there is never a dull moment. This ain't no desk job; sitting around watching the clock tick tock away. This is action packed, lion taming, fire juggling, three ringed madness. There is always something breathtaking going down, non-stop!And if you ever had an urge to curl up in a corner to catch a nap, you run the risks of waking up spooning with the bearded lady... or part of a Sigfried and Roy sandwich... if there was ever motivation to keep busy - thats it right there.

Secondly, the opportunity to travel is second to none. And we're not talking about the normal sights... this is a chance to see hidden gems that are off the beaten path. Anyone can see Paris on a postcard; but what other job will allow you to visit the empty fields and Walmart parking lots in second rate cities, towns and hamlets throughout the country? If you're lucky enough to score a job working for one of the lower quality outfits, the traveling can become much more spontaneous; all it takes is one limb lost to a starved lion, or an awkward encounter between an audience member and a "starved" bearded lady, and faster than a lawyer can say subpoena, the circus disappears...leaving nothing but an empty lot, the stench of hot animals, and the clown-induced shattered innocence of countless children.

Finally, the networking possibilities make the circus the obvious choice for any aspiring young member of society. Sure, if you go to a respectable University, absorb a few books, get some grades... you might get a reference from an influential professor. When you compare your professor with my future colleagues though... well, its no comparison. Can a professor swallow swords? Juggle fire? Pound nails up their nose? Didn't think so. How about ride elephants, chase monkeys, or tame tigers? Nope. Look bad-ass in a leather suit while riding a dirtbike around that metal sphere? Not a chance. So, if I ever get tired of the circus, my referees will be second to none. Could you imagine the phone calls for the background check??

Excuse me, we are calling concerning the credentials of a particular Ninja... who says he once worked for your company

Ring Master: Around here, he is known as the eighth wonnnnderrrrr of the world...
Freak Show Member: The most normal and down to earth person I have ever worked with.
Bearded Lady: Such an ethical man... he would never mix business with pleasure. Whenever I would make an inappropriate advance, he would go to great lengths to avoid anything immoral. And thats hard to do... I am a very handsome woman!
Sigfried: His spooning puts cutlery to shame. He would be a great asset to any employer.

But, for those of you who choose not to follow me on this career path, never fear. I don't expect we would ever come into competition for a job... I can't foresee a reason why I would ever leave such a perfect profession. The job security and opportunities for advancement rival any other gig out there.

I envision that I would probably start by following elephants. With a shovel. Sounds ugly, but really, its training. See, with the grip strength conferred by a job of sweeping and scooping, my trapeze muscles will be primed for a promotion. After swinging from the rafters, my mentality will be tuned onto more simian wavelengths; monkey trainer here I come. With the sublime knowledge and enlightenment from the apes, hook me up with a turbin, and I'll be predicting futures better than any chinese cookie. Thanks to my telephathic skills, I will be in the right place at the right time the next time a tiger decides to attack... give me some tight pants, a blonde perm and a whip... i'm training tigers.

Eventually, the good life will get to me. Too much cotton candy, peanuts and popcorn. The abs that served me so well on the trapeze will give way to a gut. And of course, a gut, leads to a new career move. With my newfound girth, I'm withstanding canon fire like a fortress, while moonlighting as the amazing pregnant man in the freakshow. See, me and the bearded lady, we'd make the most twisted couple anyone had ever seen. We'll travel the world... draw in the crowds, rip them off and split town... the circus life is the life for me.

If anyone wants to join me, you're more than welcome. Look for the nearest run down field, or K-Mart parking lot.... sooner or later we'll be there. To get the job, you really just need the correct documentation. For the naturals, bring along that test from your high school days, proving your pedigree; for the rest of you, the converts.... just bring along that university degree thats been gathering dust and getting you nowhere; after all, your parents did say it would serve you well some day!