Jogging + Juggling = Joggling. Now that is impressive … (http://www.nilesstar.com/2010/07/27/caskeys-set-to-%E2%80%98joggle%E2%80%99-at-steve%E2%80%99s-run/)
I’m off to Nats Park for another edition of Friday Night at the Ballyard. Here’s hoping that the hometown nine gives Roy Oswalt a rude welcoming to his new team.
Tonight I ran with extra bounce in my stride - like Dom in ‘The Fast and The Furious’ when the NOS kicks in. My NOS (street-racing shorthand for Nitrous Oxide System) was a double shot of Jersey Shore and pure confidence tonight. Not only was I trying to be showered and shaved (one out of two isn’t bad) by 10:00 pm for the Season Premiere of Jersey Shore (which never disappoints), but I also learned tonight that an eight-mile run after completing a 12-mile journey earlier in the week is like working an eight-hour day when you’re accustomed to working for 12 hours. It was almost over before it started. With the confidence of knowing that eight miles is no longer a challenge, and “Snooki” and “The Situation” waiting for me upon my return, I owned the streets tonight. Hopefully I’ll have some leftover NOS for my 14-miler on Sunday.
In lieu of a run, tonight I went for a four-mile walk with the best walking partner around. As I could still feel the remnants of yesterday’s 12-miles in my thighs and calves, my leisurely conversation with Jessie made for a much more pleasurable route down Eisenhower Ave. than I could have expected if I tried to run through the discomfort. So while I completed four miles tonight at a significantly slower pace than usual, four miles is four miles no matter how quickly you cover it. Walking also provided reassurance of something that I’ve long been told but only recently embraced. There is no shame in walking. My race day strategy - expertly conveyed by Jessie’s Uncle - will be to walk through each and all of the water stations, mixing in 15 seconds of walking every two miles to drink (after the first six miles), with the hard running that I’ll do in the interim. I’m proud, but reasonable - and I’ll have no shame in walking as I hydrate.
Tonight I completed the first 12-mile run of my training regimen with relative ease, and aside from some anticipated, typical post-long run soreness that I’ll feel in the morning, I expect that my longest run to date will go down in the history books as an unqualified success.
…and on the subject of unqualified successes, Jessie’s family reunion this past weekend was a truly pleasurable experience. What I enjoyed the most was the variety of accents - from Alabama, Kansas, North Dakota, Wisconsin and Montana - though now that I think about it, perhaps everyone else sounded normal and it was yours truly who sounded funny. Anyway, with the knowledge of a few more faithful blog readers that I didn’t know of (even those who are understandably reticent in posting a comment), I left the reunion with a few more friends as well, or rather, a few more close family members.
Barring any unforeseen circumstances, on Tuesday night I’ll attempt the longest run of my marathon training to date - a 12-miler on the streets of Alexandria. I’m eager and excited, but mindful of the challenge that it will present. With that in mind, considering the already late hour, I am going to try to get some sleep as per the advice of Runner’s World. A rested runner is a healthy runner. Hello bed.
At Jessie’s family reunion today I found some willing running partners in her Uncle Shane, and brothers Phil and Harry — and by “partners” I really mean “people to chase after because they can run much faster than I can.” Well, as it turns out, my running partners dragged me to speeds that I never would have reached on my own, as we completed an 8-mile run today in approximately 70 minutes — 10 minutes quicker than when I run my solitary eights. Big thanks go to Shane, Phil and Harry. I didn’t know I had it in me.
Tonight at Verizon Center my friend Justin will once again take to the court in front of thousands, this time to be recognized as a “Hometown Hero” at a Washington Mystics game.
You’ll recall that in March, 2009, Justin was diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumor. Heroically, Justin later established “Justin’s Quest,” an initiative that raises awareness and money for the fight against brain tumors, as he shoots 63,000 baskets – one for every person diagnosed with a primary brain tumor each year in the U.S. (http://www.braintumorcommunity.org/site/PageServer?pagename=jq_home)
With all proceeds from Justin’s Quest benefitting the National Brain Tumor Society, Justin will add Mystics star Alana Beard to the growing who’s who of athletes and celebrities that have sunk a basket on his behalf, with President Obama also recently lending his lefty shot to “Justin’s Quest.”
Wishing Justin ‘good luck’ isn’t necessary. In the game of life we can all use a bit of luck on our side, but on the court Justin is as calm and collected as the celebs that are in awe of him. Who needs luck when you’ve got skill on your side? Good luck? Not this time. Good skill, Justin. You may us all oh so proud.
My family suffered a tragic loss this week when my cousin, Keith, passed away. Born February 5, 1975, Keith was the second of my maternal grandparents’ eight grandkids. The eight of us were together often when we were younger; in particular, Keith, my sister, Cheryl, and me. Life can fade away, but memories endure. I’ll always remember playing ‘Joust’ on Atari with Keith and Cheryl – or rather, watching Keith and Cheryl play. In my naïve youth I’d watch as they would play against each other, thinking that I was next to take on the winner of their game. Little did I know. What they referred to only as “the thing,” they’d tell me every 15 minutes or so that they got “the thing” – a purported phenomenon that somehow extended their game beyond the usual limits. I never got “the thing,” of course, in the few instances that they let me play, and only found out years later that “the thing” was really their ability to quickly reset their game to the beginning in the split second that it ended to deceive my naïve eyes. The truth of the matter, however, is that I was really just happy to be there, hanging out with my cool, older cousin, Keith, and big sister, Cheryl. They could have “the thing.” I just didn’t want to hang out upstairs with some of my scarier relatives, and I couldn’t fit under the bed where my little sisters and other cousins hid.
Survived by his parents, Mary and Louis, older sister, Chas, younger sister and brother, Lindsay and Danny, and many aunts, uncles and cousins, Keith was the grandson of the late Ralph and Felicia – who for the first time ever, I am happy are not around so that they don’t have to grapple to make sense of this tragedy.
Keith David Arigoni will be laid to rest tomorrow in a private burial in Waterbury, CT, departed at the age of 35. His family has requested that in lieu of flowers donations be made in his name to the Preston Robert Tisch Brain Tumor Center at Duke – a touching gesture that can hopefully rescue a tiny bit of good from an otherwise terrible tragedy.
Let’s all treasure today, because tomorrow is always an unknown.
Rest in peace, Cuz. May you always have “the thing.”
On July 22, 2005 we became first time homeowners. Five years later, while the real estate market has slashed the value of our home over 40% since the time of our purchase (not exactly what we had in mind, but such is life when you buy at the peak that precedes a historic collapse), I nevertheless have a hard time looking back with any kind of regret. All things considered, we’ve been through far worse. Each night I can rest assured that I have a roof over my head, a corner of the world to call my own, a first home that we’ll always remember, and the security of knowing that while we’re ‘under water’ on our loan (owing more on our mortgage than the appraised value), we’re far from in over our heads. Considering the plight of hundreds of thousands who have been forced from their homes during this seemingly endless downturn, I can’t in good conscience lament my situation. I am one of the lucky ones. This market will bounce back - and until it does, I’m content with my situation. All I need is my loving wife to share a home with, and everything else is gravy. Like I said, I am very fortunate. Happy 5th birthday, condo!
Since I have been nothing if not honest since I started this blog in November, 2008, I have an admission to make. My guarantees are evidently worthless. Yesterday I was so bold to guarantee that I would run after work (eight miles, no less), and I failed to deliver on that guarantee. Mother Nature showed me that it is she, not me (nor Tony Danza), who’s the boss. Rained out from running yesterday I hit the elliptical machine instead, hopefully postponing my eight mile run until tonight, if Mrs. Nature cooperates. However, while I’m not proud that I misled you, I hope we can all agree that my deception pales in comparison to the lies told by this woman (http://abcnews.go.com/TheLaw/pennsylvania-teacher-year-nominee-busted-faking-brain-cancer/story?id=11182230). Simply unconscionable.