The power of 2

[Warning: this post is about pooping.  You have been warned.]

Ever since my birthday, when I was absolutely waylaid by an ear infection, I have struggled with my running.  Prior to my birthday, I was in a very good groove, and I was routinely completing 5K runs under 30 minutes, which is my usual every day goal whenever I lace up my sneakers and go out for a run.

But ever since my birthday that I spent laid up in bed the entire time, and struggling to get over the ear infection and subsequent what I’m guessing was what seemed like rupturing my ear drum, I have not been able to get back to my old running speeds.  Perhaps it’s age actually starting to catch up to me in some way, shape or form, or perhaps the sickness really took a lot more out of me than I had hoped it would.  Maybe it’s a combination of both, but the fact of the matter is that since then I don’t think I’ve been able to log a sub-30 5K time since April, and I try to not get too down about it, because Father Time outlasts everyone, and from what other runners try and encourage to me is that my split times for my age are still above average.

I’ve lightly dieted and been experimenting with stride and pacing, but nothing seems to get me back to where I’m seeing a leading 2 on my tracker when I hit my stopping point, and even though I’ve been able to occasionally get my pace back to a sub-10 minute mile, my overall 5K times have always crossed the 30 minute threshold.

I don’t know why I typed this all out because it really doesn’t have anything to do with the main subject of this post, but since it’s all related to running I think it just presented itself to me as the best opportunity to get that off my chest without having to make a dedicated post about it.

But anyway, I was on a morning run recently, and probably the #1 biggest concern while running started to emerge near the midway point of my run: the mid-run #2.  All through my running life, I’ve always tried to be cognizant of my body’s status whenever it comes to checking off all of the mental boxes before going on a run, be it casual training or on a formal run or race.  Every runner does, no matter how much they might not want to talk about pooping, it’s just human nature, and everyone poops.

Either way, I actually took care of business prior to this particular run, but perhaps again, symptom of aging, it wasn’t adequate enough or for whatever reason, while I was in the middle of my run, warning alarms started going off in the body that indicated that something inconvenient was about to occur.  And believe me, this is the absolute worst thing any runner wants to have to deal with, because it’s not often where relief is ready at a moment’s notice, be it on the trail, on the course, or casual outdoor running.

Fortunately for me, I had relief available to me, and it was conveniently on my route.  There’s a little park that I pass twice on my usual route, and there happens to be a surprisingly clean little public commode at it, and as long as it wasn’t occupied when I rolled up, I knew it was going to be one of those days where as much as I didn’t want to stop my momentum, it was better than the alternative of risking another 21 minutes to get home and shitting myself along the way.

Thankfully, the facility was available and I was able to take care of business, and as inconvenient as the whole process of stopping, and doing the deed can be, the amount of relief and satisfaction at knowing that you basically saved your own life and completely neutralized the risk of one of the most miserable indignities of the world, offsets the negative.

And in the case of this post, not only does it offset the negative, it outright becomes a positive, because once the physical strain of managing a bowel movement is eliminated from the body, the body is now free to focus all of its energy at the original task at hand – running, in my case.

The thought crossed my mind while I was breezing through the remainder of my run, because I now use a fitness tracker as opposed to all the years in which I did not, I actually have the capability to check out the tangible results of physical performance before and after taking care of business.  I amused myself with this scientific hypothesis, and looking forward to viewing the data after the run helped occupy my mind while I was finishing up my run.

Once again, I did not finish in under 30 minutes, nor was my 5K split under 30 minutes either.  My pace was fortunately still under a 10-minute mile, but I’m still handcuffed from notching that sub-30 5K that I’d like to get back to, and I don’t think I’ll get there unless I simply run more than I do now, but that would come at the expense of lifting weights, which is something I also enjoy doing and harvesting the fruits of such labor.

But no matter, when I got home and checked the data of my run on my phone, I was tickled to see the heat mapping of my pace; I had assumed that my general speed was going to be better after the bathroom break versus before it, but the fact that a lot more green and blue (slower) pace before stopping, and almost entirely yellow-to-red pretty much the entire way back was absolutely hilarious.

The power of 2 is something truly stupendous, and I likened the bathroom break to my bros to being like Sonic the Hedgehog when he hits a springboard on a wall and it sends him shooting off at immediate high speed.

I wish I could be a police officer for one working day, vol. 3

Considering it was about thirteen years between my first and second posting about wanting to be a cop for a day so I could ticket the shit out of everyone doing illegal things that chap my ass but the police don’t actually do anything about because they’re deemed not high enough priority and that they’re using the excuse of being perpetually understaffed, I didn’t think I’d be up to a volume 3 just yet, but here we are, barely a month later.

Bicycles.  I have a fairly contentious opinion about them, mainly that the vast majority of those who ride them are hipsters, tryhards, trolls, or all of the above, for a myriad of reasons, be it guilting motorists of harming the environment, take it too seriously and making others hate them, or clogging up the Silver Comet Trail by thinking the whole stretch exists solely for them and not the hundreds of people that actually want to run or walk on it alternatively.  Sometimes it’s multiple reasons, or all of the above.

But at the same time, I do recognize bicycling as a very good form of exercise, I acknowledge the environmental benefits to it.  I’m not above doing it myself, and whenever I go visit my brother and he takes me in bicycle rides, admittedly it’s extremely satisfying going into a jam-packed parking lot on the beach for cars who also have to pay to park, whereas bicycle parking is free and abundantly available.

And frankly, there are people out there who rely solely on bicycles as their primary mode of transportation, and if it’s the difference between being a lazy drain on society versus getting out into the world and being a contributing member, pedal away, friends.

However, I suppose I take for granted that all people know the general rule of bicycles in the open world, mainly the one that says stay the fuck off sidewalks.  Because as the weather here in Georgia has gone from fake fall to something mildly not quite summer but definitely not fall anymore, people have been outside more often lately, which kind of cramps my style since I walk and/or run outside regularly regardless of the temperature outside, and over the last weeks, while I’m out and about getting my general wellness in, I’ve had assholes flying past me on bicycles on the sidewalk, often coming too close for comfort of hitting me.

It’s happened frequently to the point where I’ve no choice but to use it as subject matter for a brog post, which is to say that it’s happened way too fucking often lately and I wish I were a cop for a day, so that I could grab a lot of these cocksuckers and yank them off their moving bicycles, pin them to the ground and give them tickets for illegally riding their bicycles on footpaths.

They’re called sidewalks for a reason, not sidebikes or sidebicycles.  Yes, you’d be pissing off motorists and/or putting yourselves at risk of danger by riding in the street, but bicycles are for lack of a better term, still classified as vehicles, and belong in the streets, and not the sidewalks.  It’s selfish to prioritize your own safety from automobiles by doing something illegal like getting on the sidewalks and instead jeopardizing the safety of walkers and runners.

Also, because society is getting lazier and softer with each passing day, I can comfortably say that 90% of personal incidents of bicyclists whizzing past me on sidewalks, are e-bikes, and not just regular, pedal-powered bicycles, and they’re going relatively fast as shit, definitely with enough velocity to do some harm to a human body.

So my general walking/running route is primarily residential, but there are two specific stretches that runs along thoroughfares that do have posted speed limits of 35mph, but usually drive anywhere from 45-55mph with regularity.  One of these stretches has a curve that often causes some obnoxious blind spots, so I kind of get why any bicyclist wants to avoid the risk in those areas, but again, avoid their risk, at the expense of others, and there’s no scenario where one party isn’t at risk by the driving talent of another.

However, the law is the law, and the law in most places, including Georgia, dictates that bicycles shouldn’t be on the fucking sidewalks.  And I’m getting tired of nearly getting clipped on sidewalks by people riding bicycles way too fast where they’re legally not allowed to be on, and if I were a cop for a day, I’d ticket every single one of these shitheads for the absolute maximum penalty possible.

Dad Brog (#168): an odd period of calm

Even though it’s still summer break for mythical wife and kids, I’ve still been waking up at the same sequence of alarms used throughout the school year, with the first going off at a horrific time that leads with a 5.

Part of it has to do with still dealing with some lingering jetlag from returning from Asia; I’ve been hitting hard walls of fatigue at around 1 pm daily, and by 10 pm, I’m yawning uncontrollably, but I’m fighting it to one, keep myself on track for the kids’ nightly bathroom breaks, and to hopefully get back to my old bed habits.

But also because waking up at the ass-crack of dawn gives me a few hours in the morning of quiet peace; it’s not different from the time in which I regularly awoke during the school year, except now I don’t have to wake any kids up, so that time in which I had been making and serving breakfast for #1, taking a break to Duolingo before #2’s wake-up time, and then repeating with #2 before I headed off to work, I’ve just been keeping entirely to myself, doing my Duolingo with a morning cup of coffee, and then I’ve got this chunk of time of really nothing to do lately before I feel the need to start breakfast, and I’ve actually been utilizing it to do some writing over the last week or so.

Parenting has taught me that no routine lasts forever, and I should be grateful for this oddly un-parenting-like period of calm, and I’ve actually caught up with some of the topics I wanted to write about to where the only thing left to write about is the period of calm itself.

Even work has been uncharacteristically calm, also almost spookily, because my company has had a lot of turnover this fiscal year, and all of the internal clients in which my position supports went gangbusters on frontloading the year to where we’re almost at a point of doing nothing but pre-planning for 2027, barely at the halfway point in 2026.  Frankly, I don’t like how calm it is at the office, because I’ve witnessed more layoffs at this employer over the last two years than I did at six years at my prior, which makes me feel like we’re like a WWE/TKO ecosystem of employment instability, and my biggest daily anxiety is wondering if my name is ever going to show up on the bean-counters’ ledgers as being viewed as expendable and placed on the chopping block.

This is the world we live in, or at least I live in, where calm and quiet is met with paranoia and concern for the future.  What I wouldn’t give to be independently wealthy and to not have to worry about this kind of bullshit.

Next school year, both girls will be in elementary school, and will effectively be on the same schedule, which means instead of needing to be on dad-mode effectively twice a morning before I go to work, I’ll only have to do it once, and then I’ll suddenly have nothing to do until it’s time to go to work.

Going back to sleep isn’t an option, because to me, it just doesn’t seem like it’s enough time to let myself fall back asleep only to be jarred awake by another alarm, before needing to go through the trouble of waking back up again before heading into the office.  More realistically, I can see myself heading out to the office earlier, with the possibility of hitting the gym before general working hours begin because I anticipate it being calm and empty, but then that will remove the 60-75 min reprieve I give myself in the middle of the day to workout, which means I’ll ultimately net work more on a daily basis but this is about as first-world problem as they come.

Or, I can keep that time to give myself like a calm hour at home, and do basically what I’ve been doing this past week, and dick around on my phone and laptop in relative peace, possibly write, and then head to the office, closer to my usual routine.

Who really knows, although I think I already know how I’m going to treat the scenario when it arrives.  But the point remains that gaining any measure of peace, quiet and calm is always jarring and feels awkward, because parenting conditions me to be on edge and anticipating kid-related things at all times, so when things do get to actually slow down, it almost feels alien and wrong.

Thoughts on Singapore, Hong Kong, and cruising out of Asia

Although Korea was priority 1A on this vacation, 1B was very much the Disney Cruise that mythical wife booked, leaving out of Singapore.  Frankly, the way I looked at things, seeing as how both mythical wife and I had a lot of plans, ideas and goals we wanted to do in Seoul, the real vacation wouldn’t be until we were sequestered onto Mickey’s boat, and had no other choice but to relax.

Seeing as how I logged the steps probably for about 125 miles while in Seoul, a vacation while on vacation seemed like a good idea and sufficient reason to tear ourselves away from the Motherland.

But not to go overlooked, were brief stops in Singapore before the cruise, and a whirlwind night in Hong Kong, both of which added value to the trip, and seeing as how neither of us had been to either before, were good toes dipped into the water to realize that both are worth seeing again in the future.

So Singapore, we actually spent two nights before cruising out, although the first was pretty much an arrival day at night.  But with one full day and a morning, I felt like I got a good taste of the place, from a lot of walking around, as well as eating pretty much nothing but hawker stall food.

One of the observations I made about Singapore is that food is cheap, but booze not so much.  I’m pretty sure all the food I ate for breakfast and lunch on our first day didn’t cost as much as one of the Singapore Sling cocktails we had at the Line Bar.  And maybe it’s because it was at a touristy location, but Tiger beers costing the equivalent of $8-9 USD seemed kind of steep for what’s basically the Budweiser of Singapore.

Speaking of food, I wasn’t really a fan of Haianese chicken rice in spite of all the suggestions to try it.  However, the satay from Satay Street was fantastic, but if I had to name a favorite food from the entire country, it was the curry puff pastries, that I housed like four of them in my short stay.  They’re basically samosas, but still so fucking delicious.

I also made a point to go see the Merlion, which I summed up to being kind of like what the Mannekin Pis is to Brussels, some arbitrary statue that somehow has the identity of the city baked into it.

Honestly, Singapore felt kind of like the Chicago of Asia to me, since it’s such a diverse mixing bowl of cultures that all seem to converge in one harmonious city and country.  Natives co-exist with people from India, Malaysia, Indonesia, China, Korea and Japan, and it all seems to work out.

9/10 for Singapore, would visit again, even if it were ball-sticking hot and humid.

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Dad Brog (#166): Back in mah’ day

Sometimes as a treat, I take my kids to Waffle House for breakfast.  Or when I’m completely out of ideas of breakfasts for them, I throw my hands in the air and think F it, Waffle House.  Anyway, so I’m at Waffle House, my kids are going to down on a chocolate chip waffle, and out of the corner of my eye, I see a boy, probably somewhere between 11-13 years old.

He’s by himself, and he’s wearing a bicycle helmet.  A few minutes later, I see one of the very-Waffle House servers handing him a plastic to-go bag, that couldn’t have had more than a single person’s food in it, he takes it, walks out of the restaurant, hops onto an e-bike, and rode off, presumably going home or wherever.

Now before this gets too ‘back in my day’-ish, this wasn’t uncommon behavior for me, or any kids that age when we were that age, it’s just that most of the time, we were on foot, because most of our bicycles back then didn’t have adequate storage capabilities outside of dorky wicker baskets that sat at the front of your handles, and the fact that most restaurants weren’t nearly as reliant on take-out service as they are today.  Kids in the 11-13 age ranges back when I was there, were more than likely going to the nearest fast-food burger joint, and if they were taking anything to go, it was in a paper sack.

However, what this line of thinking grew curious about was the fact that the kid got on a e-bike, and after 3-4 pedals to get the bike starting, it was full-motor from there on, and before he could leave my sight, he was no longer pedaling.  E-bikes have basically become actual motorized forms of transportation for those under the age of 16 and legally unable to operate a four-wheel consumer-class vehicle.

I’m not sure if this is a good thing or a bad thing yet, but above all else, it is just one of those things that really paints the picture of how big the chasm is between kids of now, to when I was a kid, and especially to those in the generations that preceded my own.  Who knows, maybe having access and experienced with actual motorized vehicles that are expensive, and require maintenance will help build a better sense of ownership and responsibility in the kids of tomorrow.  Or, it’s the first step to heading down the path of Wall-E, where kids no longer have to walk, or even pedal their own bicycles anymore, and they’re destined to become fat immobile blobs of humanity after eating one too many Waffle House takeout meals.

Sometimes my sister and I lament about the differences of the generations, when comparing our kids to our own childhoods.  How kids today simply don’t know how to be bored and fend for themselves in a lot of applications, and how they have access to stuff like e-bikes, motorized scooters, apps to order takeout and services that can deliver all sorts of things same-day and immediately.

Much like our own predecessors lament, I suppose it’s kind of like a rite of passage for when every adult looks at the generation after them and opines, they don’t understand how good they have things.

Whenever I visit my brother, he takes me on bicycle rides, since that is something he’s grown quite passionate about since he moved to his current locale.  It’s something I always enjoy doing with him, and as the old adage goes, you really do never forget how to ride a bike.  But because he has more regular experience than I do, and for lack of an alternative, he lets me ride his e-bike while he takes his regular bicycle.

Shit weighs a ton, and is definitely not the typical bicycle that you dismount while it’s still in motion, leap off and let it come to a crashing halt on its side in the yard of the asshole neighbor, but it’s still a bicycle that anyone who’s ever ridden one can get the hang of in ten seconds.

Motor assistance is a really weird feeling at first, but I definitely see the appeal of it, and I liked having it available whenever I felt like I was really falling behind my brother, but for the most part, I was determined to pedal as often as I could.  I’d always get paranoid whenever the battery dropped from 94% to 93% and I’d be driven to try and pedal some juice back into the battery, but the point remains is that just because I had it, I didn’t really want to use it until I felt like I had to.

When I go on outdoor runs, I’ve been seeing clusters of mostly teens, now that especially school’s out down in Georgia, riding on either e-bikes or e-scooters; and the common denominator is that almost none of them are actually powering them with their legs, and just riding them around like personal vehicles.  I mean it’s cool that they’re able to get from point A to point B with less physical exertion, but not only is it eliminating any potential exercise for them, but it’s like that line from Cars: cars didn’t drive on it to make great time, they drove on it to have a great time.

Some of the best conversations I’ve had with childhood friends have often come on these leisurely, casual journeys, from one house to another, or the woods, the creek or the train tracks.

But before I wrap up this drivel, I’m curious about the people who take their motorized shit onto trails like the Silver Comet Trail, where I like to do my long-distance runs, when trying to accomplish the diminishing number of virtual runs that I sign up for.  It’s always an annoyance having to share with tryhard aggressive e-bikers, but it makes me wonder, if people motor their way for 25+ miles, do they really feel accomplished as those cyclists who actually pedaled the entire distance?

Not that I care, but that’s a curiosity that I wrap this up with.

Happy trails, Jeff

Runner’s World: Olympian, legendary runner, Jeff Galloway passes away at the age of 80

I know that most people would look at me and not think I’m remotely what they expected to see when I say that I’m a runner, but I can confidently say at this stage of my life, that I’ve been steadily running for nearly half of my life. 

I ran intermittently between the ages of 18-23, but around the age of 24, I’ve been running very consistently since then.  I can count on one hand how many times I’ve had a stretch where I did no running that was longer than a week, and one of them coincided with both my first daughter’s birth and the arrival of COVID.  I’ve probably run more miles in my life than Forrest Gump had in the film, despite the fact that I look like a pretty unimpressive schlub on account of the fact that as much as I exercise, I still enjoy food and it’s safe to say that I exercise so that I can, eat like a shithead every now and then, and not have to put too much restriction on the stuff I eat.

I’ll be honest, other than seeing the guy’s name on a local annual run, I wasn’t actually really that familiar with Jeff Galloway until then-mythical gf got into running and wanted to train up for a runDisney race.  It was training with her did I learn what the Jeff Galloway Run-Walk Method was, and mythical gf was living proof of its effectiveness, considering she was starting from a pretty bare starting point in her running journey.

As I got older and the mileage started piling up on my knees and legs, I began implementing a little bit of run-walk into my own methods, and when mythical gf wanted to go runDisney again, I joined her, and trained up to run the half, officially.  Typically when I got real ham into running, my goal was always to be able to run the Peachtree (10K) without needing to resort to walking, which I did accomplish a few times, and although I was adamant about not being so regimented to going run-walk from start to finish, my general policy was to run as long as I could, and once I began to feel the initial fatigue, switch up to run-walk.

Needless to say, in my first few forays into half-marathon running, I was able to achieve my goals of staying under 2:30 times, and someone as undisciplined as me probably wouldn’t have been able to without learning and implementing run-walk.

So all that said, especially as a runner, I e-pour one out for the passing of Jeff Galloway, a man who strived to make the world a better and healthier place by giving the community the knowledge of run-walk, and helping inspire thousands of people who thought they couldn’t ever run distances, the knowledge, support and inspiration that they too could.

Although I wasn’t that familiar with him originally, his knowledge still made its mark on my own runner’s journey, and without adopting his methods into my own, I probably never would have been able to achieve the longer runs I’ve done in my life, and for that alone, I am grateful for his existence, the knowledge he graciously shared, and the impact he had on the community of runners and exercise enthusiasts across the globe.

The world is a less fit and healthy place without him on it.

My feet are destroyers of gear

One of my least favorite feelings in the world is when you get that tacky feeling on the flat of your food from inside a shoe, and when the opportunity is there, you take the shoe off to check, and yep, there’s a hole forming in your sock.  Inevitably, this last gasp of my sock’s integrity happens when I’m at work, or out of the house and going to be out of the house for a length of time, which means there’s absolutely nothing I can do about it for at least several hours.

No matter the tech or innovation or special manufacturing methods done by today’s sock makers that claim to be more resistant to wear and promise to last longer than the package of boring ass tube socks you can get at your local Ross for 60% the cost of retail, there is pretty much no pair of socks that my feet are incapable of wearing holes through.  Most of the time, it is outer sole of my foot where holes begin because I grew up bowlegged and it’s clear that my weight applies more pressure to the outer parts of my feet, but I’ve had holes form near my heel, of course on the outer part.

Additionally, I have toes where the nails kind of angle upward, not to mention the fact that my second toe is long and sticks out further, which according to podiatry sources, is called a Greek foot, and if I do not be mindful of the length of my toenails, they basically become little blades that gradually saw away at socks, and holes will eventually form in the toes as well.

On that note, I was putting on my treadmill shoes in preparation for a treadmill session, and I noticed that the fabric on the big toe part of my left shoe had a hole in it.  I stuck my hand into the shoe, and apparently over the passage of time, the big toe on my left foot has worn a hole through the padding and now all the way through the fabric itself.  Which is kind of interesting in how the hole is very horizontally straight like it was stabbed through, because that means my big toe nail has managed to slice a hole through the shoe, which is made more interesting in the fact that none of the running socks that I use have sprouted any holes, so I guess this was some really concentrated friction in order to cause this breach.

Where I’m getting at is that it’s clear that I have some pretty fucked up feet that are complete destroyers of foot apparel.  Socks never last long before I eventually bore holes in them, which sucks because I’ve had to toss many socks with designs of patterns that I’ve enjoyed and been unable to find replacements for.  And it’s apparent that my feet are capable of ruining shoes in ways other than simply wearing out the soles.

Seriously, I like to believe that my feet would be some ASMR channel’s dream feet, as far as repairing them.  I need to get my feet out on the internet to entice one of these channels to do their magic to my feet, so that they can make some money on the content, but more importantly so that I don’t have to pay for it at all.

It’s one of those moments where I begin to ponder that my fortune should come from having footwear that is special catered towards people like me with brutal runner’s feet that seem capable of destruction, but if I actually took the time to research on the internet instead of assuming that I’m the first person in existence to ponder this, I’m sure there are hundreds of companies out there that already are doing it, and perhaps I should be looking to them to equip my feet, instead of settling for shitty plebe gear that can’t keep up any further.