PROCLAMATIONS PROCLAMATION

No more.

I have made plenty of proclamations over the past year and a half...and have seen few of them through.

I've talked about running more, not running at all, running a little, signing up for races, not signing up for races, drinking less wine, drinking no wine, eating less butter and cheese, losing weight, taking things more seriously, using my time better, trying to find more time to waste, blah, blah, blah.

Since completing my 12 in 12 challenge in December 2009, and losing my job the following March, it's been a struggle to find lasting focus, on anything other than sheer survival. My many proclamations were my attempts to find that definition. Trouble is, life does not often operate within one's own boundaries.

The process of constantly moving the goal posts and then not scoring has been tiring. I have decided to make just one more grand proclamation...and that is to not make any more of them...and discover what it's like to not put myself under that pressure.

I am going to run...whenever. Maybe slowly. Maybe I'll try to get faster. Haven't decided. I may sign up for half marathons or even another 26.2 miler...and then may not show up. All depends.

My UK bike ride is still on for my 6Oth birthday celebration. The last time I tried it, I spent two years planning every day's mileage, lodging, and even the food I was going to eat on particular days. But I'm now going to leave next year's adventure mostly unbooked.

I have a book to write. I have beaten myself up for not being further along with it. Just heard an interview with a well-known author who said it takes him 4-6 YEARS to write a book. I'm wondering about how that would be.

I'll let you know.

Gotta run, gotta ride...or do I?

WORKING IT

No sooner had I committed to my next distance run, the NorCal Half Marathon in San Jose in September, than my work life got in the way of training for same. But I'm still in.

Seriously. What happened was this. For the past six weeks it's been my pleasure to have had almost-full time work at the radio station. Summer is a good time to work at a big radio station for practically everyone involved. If you're a full time staff sort of person, chances are you're entitled to some delicious vacation time...and this is the best time to take it. If you're a fill-in, per diem dude or gal, this is the time you gets lots-o-work...filling in for the lucky sods who have taken off. This has been my lot. The paychecks have been on the handsome side. The hours have been hellish.

I consider myself fairly healthy, and, when I'm able, I'm pretty active for being on the very short side of the big "60". But..getting up at 2am and needing to be productive, let alone coherent, just one hour later...is asking a lot. I've done it, and even enjoyed it. But, upon getting home, there's been no gas left in the tank.

I have done NO training whatsoever. The really cool thing is, I realized today, I'm in good enough shape that it doesn't matter right now. After all...the race is only 13.1 miles.

Time was, like when I was training for my first marathon, 1 mile seemed like a ridiculous distance to travel on foot, all at one go, on purpose. Now, I can say to myself, "Well, it's only a half"...and mean it. I've got a few more early days coming up at the old grindstone..and maybe even another full week of it late in the month, but it would appear things will calm down soon...and I'll be working more training-friendly hours.

I'm also thinking about giving up my gym membership..at least until the winter. Although I will miss the 24-hour access to a jacuzzi, not having the gym option may force me to run more...like outside...in the California sun. I am itching for it...and some long bike rides.

I have also discovered most of my running t-shirts are from races in 2009 and earlier. I am in serious need of some new, free threads. Not counting, of course, the insane entrance fees.

See you out there.

Gotta run!

BIKE RIDE VIDEO

My 82 mile ride to Santa Cruz....

PEANUT BUTTER BURGER

There she is...all dressed up with somewhere to go. Namely, Santa Cruz. I needed an inspiration break, so I packed the panniers and headed out on Sunday morning, with thoughts of lighthouse hostels, quiet moments, artichoke garlic bread, new people, stunning vistas, grueling uphills, insane downhills, and celebratory brews at the end. I got everything I wanted.

The adventure began with a bus ride to Pacifica with my fully loaded bike. I had reservations at the Montara Lighthouse Hostel which turned out to be just six miles from where the bus dropped me off. I'm thinking, not too daunting for the first day. However, the first two miles were straight up to the top of Devil's Slide, on Highway 1. There's no place but in the road to ride here, and it was packed with weekend beach goers, and more than enough of those macho guys in big trucks with wide tires who get a kick out of nearly running cyclists into the hillside. They didn't get their way with me, though! Once at the top it was all about the three miles down, and I do mean down. I could have easily hit 50 miles an hour had I left my brakes untouched. But I grabbed 'em, topping out at only about 30. Fast enough for fully loaded. Cruised into Montara with two hours to kill until the hostel opened so I continued on to Pillar Point, where I took pictures. Wanted a beer at Half Moon Bay Brewing Company, but there were no open patio seats. Headed back to Montara, for what turned out to be a mediocre plate of fish and chips. I then checked into the hostel. A little slice of heaven. Mileage total for the day, just 16.

It is still a functioning lighthouse, and the hostel part is where the keeper used to live. If you've never done the hostel thing, I will highly recommend it. Most have just about everything you'd want, except privacy. But, that's the draw for many. This is a view from the self-catering kitchen. Nothing to sneeze at there.

The picture above was taken in the morning. The one below was taken at the other end of the day, as the sun sunk below the horizon. The quiet was stunning.

The next morning was about coffee, and an early start in search of breakfast. I made two new friends here. One was heading north, the other was going the same way as me, with the Pigeon Point Lighthouse Hostel next, some 30 miles away. We didn't ride together, though, preferring to go solo.

I stopped in Half Moon Bay, for another cup of coffee, and a cherry danish. Could not have been better. Then it was back to Highway 1, but with a short stopover in the parking lot of a British pub called Cameron's. This place is packed with just the kind of stuff I love to take pictures of.

A London black cab...
...and a couple of old double decker buses...

From here on out it was all about the ride...and artichoke garlic bread. No, really. The Pigeon Point Lighthouse's address is Pescadero...but it's actually about four or five miles outside of the little coastal town. There's not much to see or do in Pescadero, however, cyclists, motorcyclists, and drivers alike all make the trek here anyway...for the aforementioned bread. It's freshly baked all day long and is packed with quartered artichoke hearts and garlic. If you time it just right you can grab a loaf straight out of the oven, take it to the picnic area round back, and just shove it into your mouth! Unreal...but real. When I arrived my new friend from the night before was already there, stuffed..and happy. After I had mine, I bought all the fixin's for a big pasta meal at Pigeon Point, and headed out.

Arrived at the hostel about an hour before check in time, but did not add more miles today. Thirty-four miles down the stunning California coast seemed like just enough.

This hostel even has an ocean-front hot tub, which I took advantage of, after a bang-up meal of spaghetti and more bread. The next day's ride would be about the same as this day's, a little more than 30, with more than enough challenging climbs and declines for relief.

Said goodbye to Pigeon Point at about 8am, after finally getting a decent cup of coffee, but nothing to eat. I was looking for breakfast somewhere, but not really wanting to stop for a sit-down meal. Chose a basket of organic strawberries instead, at a roadside produce stand, as the clouds burned away and bright blue skies opened up. With only 11 miles to go, I was looking forward to the ride being over, but sad that it was over so soon. I hadn't done any sort of touring since my last trip to England to ride the End to End...that ended with me throwing in the towel because both hands went numb. This ride reminded me that I actually love doing this...and I'm so looking forward now to next year's return to finish the E2E...and training for it between now and then.

One of the bonuses from this sort of activity is the refreshing payoffs that are available. I finally got my beer, after three days of riding. Actually had a couple of IPA's at the Surfrider in Santa Cruz, while waiting for my Amtrak connection to home.

But that's not all. I really did have a Skippy burger. It's a burger with Monterey Jack, bacon AND peanut butter. And it is good!! Really.

Gotta ride!

HERE'S THE DEAL

In a recent previous post I conceded that, after more than a year of unsuccessful searching, I found a bit of my running mojo during the Bay to Breakers in San Francisco earlier this month. Despite the attempts by the race organizers to wring all the fun out of the often-bawdy event, those who took part refused to give in, and partied from sunny start to rainy finish.

Since then I have been looking for some half marathons and even a full mary to sign up for. I do best when I have goal to shoot for that's been paid for..but, holy moley, people, who can afford this stuff anymore?

As you may know, I am planning a big bike trip in the UK next year to celebrate 60 years on the planet (at least in my current incarnation?!). That journey is going to take about a month, during which I will not be working. I don't get vacation time. So, you do the math. I have to sock away over a month's worth of regular living expenses to keep the home fires stoked and burning AND another month's worth of trip funds (beer? fish and chips? hostel beds?). In other words, I have very little discretionary cash now, and don't anticipate that changing anytime soon. Unlike Washington, I can not just raise my debt ceiling and keep spending.

So, imagine my surprise, when tooling around on the web thing, I discovered many footrace organizers are, IMHO, being a bit goofy in what they think their events are worth. Up front I will admit, no one's being forced to enter these races...but I just wonder if they'd raise more money for their causes if they lowered the fees to "affordable" so more folks could sign up?

Some examples. My first thought was the Santa Rosa Half Marathon. It's close by, and I love the city. I have friends there who have already agreed to pay for post-race brews. But...it's $75-90...for a half, depending on when one enters. You think that's bad? The San Francisco Half, which is even closer to my house, is $105!!! The full 26 is $150! But wait! December's Honolulu Marathon...$155 to 260!!!!!!!! And that does NOT include a hotel room! Or even an umbrella drink or two. WTF? I could use that $260 to pay for about a week's lodging during my cycling adventure...or a week's worth of post-ride English ales!

I had all but given up finding a race I could commit to...until yesterday morning when I was greeted by an email message from the kind folks at Living Social. Ha! Half price entry into the new Nor Cal Half Marathon and Marathon in September in San Jose. $30 for the half, $40 for the full. Now we're talking. I did not hesitate. I bought. Now, I'm in. Looking forward to the race...and not feeling ripped off.

In an effort to pay forward my good fortune I told some running buddies about the deal...and some of them have signed up, as well. I guess that's the social part of Living Social.

The goal now is to drop ten pounds before race day. Race day weight goal...178.

Gotta run!

WICKED SICK RIDE

Today's bike ride was inspired by President Obama. (Not him above!)

I got up in time to watch The Man address the British Parliament in Westminster Hall, his appearance there an historic event in and of itself. And...he nailed it. How anyone can find anything wrong with this guy at times like these I just do not know!

Anyway, in that speech he mentioned the Magna Carta, reminding me that it's currently on display at the California Palace of the Legion of Honor in San Francisco's Lincoln Park. Despite predictions of rain, I put one and one together, pulled out my dusty Burley rain gear, and set off on my bike, thoroughly expecting a quick ten-miler, then home. (To think I put my rain suit up on eBay when I lost my job last year. Thanks to all you bidders who thought my reserve was just too high.)

The ride there was wet, although nothing like the rain I expect to battle through during next year's E2E ride in the UK, for which I am in training. What I had forgotten, from the handful of times I've been to this museum before, was the nasty-ass hill it crowns. It was just one of number of climbs I had to do, into the wind and rain. I will admit...they were all fun...once I topped them. Fond memories of climbing Hartside Hill and Black Hill in England in 2000, when I rode the Sea to Sea. Not so fond remembrances of 20 mile, 10 hour days on the bike in 2003, the last time I tried the End to End!

Checking out the precious document was amazing. It's the second time I've seen it. The first time was for free in the British Museum in London, where I also saw lyrics handwritten by Beatles Lennon and McCartney, music scores from Classical masters...and so much, much more. I've seen some cool shit in my time, including Vikki Carr AND Tom Jones. (hehe) Today I saw more coolness...just by going on a bike ride.

Not only did I see the document without which the US Constitution might have been very different, but I saw artworks by El Greco, Rodin (Thinker, pictured above), Cezanne, Rembrandt, Monet, van Gogh and Renoir...all right here atop a bitch of a hill, for just $10. I spent two hours in the museum...just enough time to completely dry off, before heading back out into the rain. I did, however, take a few moments to give in to a stunning female visitor to our shores from Brazil who asked me to take a picture of her in front of a wall-sized oil painting. I only said "yes"...in the interest of global harmony. You see. Obama got to me, talking all flowery, and democracy-like. Come to think of it, my friend Joe recently told me it's important to have a beautiful Brazilian as a friend....you never know when you'll find yourself alone...in Rio.

I left the museum just as the skies opened up again...but hit the road, regardless. My goal was 7th and Folsom streets where, according to its Twitter feed, a certain beef-centric food truck was supposed to be serving up hot meaty goodness from noon to 3pm. Got there at 1:30. No truck. Oh, well. I settled for a slice of pizza, and then headed for home, chalking up a brilliant 20 miler.

Thank you, Mr. President.

Gotta ride. Gotta run.

EATING MY HAT

Alright. I'll admit it. When I woke up this morning at 4, I was hoping to hear the sound of pounding rain outside my window. I was not jazzed about running another Bay to Breakers. I have not been jazzed about running much of anything for a while. Had the weather "experts" been right about what to expect this morning, I would have gotten my wish, and stayed home and watched the B2B on TV. They called for rain, strong winds, possible thundershowers and...can you believe this...HAIL! It rained before the race...and drizzled a teensy bit while I was running through Golden Gate Park...but that was IT!

Got into the City at about 6:30 for a 7am start. Found a sweet parking spot...and headed for Corral C, where I was hoping to meet up with at least three running pals. Turned out one had bagged on the whole thing and two others were late. I started alone...unless you count the thousands of others I did not know.

This year's race has new sponsors, who, by the way, did stellar work, I must say. I was worried the new rules limiting the participants to JUST 55-thousand, banning booze, floats, and nudity would just take the magic out of it. Didn't happen. I will say I saw only one person flagrantly imbibing, tossing back some Jim Beam. She was handling it pretty well, for 7:15am. I did miss Cal's Tiki Bar, but all-in-all, I think the booze ban achieved its goal. The spirit was goofy, and fun, not out-of-control stoopid! There were many pleasant references, however, to the excess of years-past.

The course was alive with all manner of delight. These folks were powered by Tiger Blood, apparently. I passed them, Tiger Blood-less, regardless. At this point we're still in Mile 1, running west on Howard Street, heading for the hard right turn at the Chevron station on 9th. The best part of this mile for me was coming up on my good pal, Paul, and his young son, Connor. We did a quick catch-up...and then I headed off, hoping to reconnect at the end. Didn't happen.

We stay on 9th for about a quarter-mile, turn left on Hayes, travel through the good eats paradise that is Hayes Valley...and onwards to the infamous Hayes Hill. This is the only hill on the course, but it is a doozy. There's no point trying to run up it, unless you're one of the elites, who, by this time in the race, were about to win the big money about four miles west of us. The cyclone fencing I'd heard was going to be erected here, to keep runners from peeing on residents' doorsteps, was not.

Once over the Hayes Hill, it really is all flat or downhill the rest of the way. We cruised through the Panhandle, where we were were serenaded by Surivor's "Eye of the Tiger" and some disco delights, before we entered the magic kingdom that is Golden Gate Park. I love this place. And you never know who you'll run into.

Or, what! Seriously. Those are bison. In the city park. If you're from here, you don't care. If you're not...it's pretty cool, right? This is literally...where the buffalo roam.

After the bison, it's pretty much a tumble down to the Queen Wilhemina windmill, and the hard left on the Great Highway at Ocean Beach...and about a quarter mile to the Finish.

I posted a 1:29, according to my Garmin 305. It's not my fasted B2B, but not my slowest, either. I would have loved to have come in at 1:15 or 1:18...but I haven't been running for a while, so I'll take what I get, with bells on.

If you're wondering why this post is entitled as it is...it's because I really thought, I had lost my love of running. Turns out, I may not have. I learned over the past couple of days, through the excitement of those I know about this event, that the magic of running, for me, has always been about the people I've met, run with, shared wine with, shared beers with, shared burgers with, shared potato-encrusted shark steaks with, shared amazing barbeque with, shared free pasta with, shared amazing paid-for pasta with, shared English Mars bars with, shared cheddar goldfish with, shared hotel rooms with, shared early morning shuttle bus rides with, shared dreams and aspirations with...shared life. I'm eating my hat, because I was wrong about not missing all that.

By the way. If you're wondering about the whole nudity thing during this year's B2B. It has NOT gone away. If you want to see a picture of the 50-60 year old dudes who thought we wanted to see their junk, check out the post before this one. I have a shot of the same guys from this year's race. They have nothing to add. For those who wonder about the female nudes...there were, by my count, none. That is, unless you count the young lady above. I have it on good authority, there's nothing much under the tutu. I'm just saying.

Gotta run, gotta ride!