Hitchhiker

Have I told you about the hitchhiker I picked up last  Thursday?  Oh, man. It was one of the strangest experiences to-date.  So, I took the backroads from work, and saw her at the top of Skyline. She just needed a ride to downtown. I thought, what the hey– I was heading downtown anyway, and she was kinda cute. She carried a backpack and small box wrapped in brown paper with a rope binding.  She threw the box in the trunk before sitting in the front passenger seat, her backpack on her lap.  She said her name was Kendra.  She had a great smile.

We were chatting about the Northwest weather, and I casually asked her what her story was.  Her smile disappeared and she simply put that she’s just a little strapped for cash.  I told her that was too easy to happen these days especially because of the economy.  I inquired if she had any family here in Portland, and she  quipped at me, stating that I was asking too many questions.  I said, “What? I’m just making conversation.”  She apologized and told me she’s just a little tightly-wound lately.

The fuel light came on my dash, and I told her that I needed to stop at a gas station real quick.  She said that was cool because she had to use the bathroom anyway.  We got to the gas station and she got her backpack and beelined to the restroom inside.  I got the nuzzle in place, and proceeded to wash my car’s windows.  That was when I noticed a dark liquid dripping at the back of the car.  I thought I had a gas or oil leak and was cursing at the wind.  I opened my trunk to grab a rag, and realized that it wasn’t oil or gas that was leaking.  The box that Kendra had been carrying seemed to now be soaked at the bottom.  What the–?  Is that blood?

As if on cue, Kendra came back and stood rigidly in front of me and the open car trunk.  “What are you doing?!” she yelled.  I told her that I was just going to get a rag, and asked her what was in the box.  “None of your business,” she replied, sternly.  “Look,” I said, “were just a few miles from downtown, and I still want to give you a ride and all. But I don’t feel comfortable doing so without knowing what’s in the box.”

“I said it’s none of your goddam business!” she repeated.

I told her that it was my business and that she either could tell me what was in the box or we could end the ride right there.  Just then, Kendra took off running.  I yelled at her that she forgot her box, and she didn’t even look back.  She just kept on running until she rounded a corner and disappeared.

I said an expletive and returned my attention to the damned box.  By then, it was sopping wet nearly to the top.  I slowly undid the bow on the rope, careful not to touch the liquid– still believing it was blood.  I tore off the top covering, and opened the box.

I couldn’t believe what was in it…

What If You Could…?

I recently read about how writer Evan Ratliff “vanished” for an entire month this past summer to determine how easy (or otherwise) it was to get off the grid in the digital age.

And I got to wondering: What if…?

What if I can simply leave my current life and start anew?  Get a new name, a new identity, make up a new past.  I could be anyone or anything.  The possibilities would seem to be endless.  Well, probably as endless as a source of income may provide.  But that’s just probably me and my money dependency talking.

What would force me to do it?  A lousy job?  A failed relationship?  Money troubles?  Or would it be for something more spiritual in nature like the old adage about “finding oneself?”

Then I got to thinking:  Would the act be viewed as defeatist?  Weak?  Would people think less of me?  Actually, would I really care at that point?  After all, I would’ve left all of those perceptions– those expectations– behind.

What about you?  Would you do it?  Why or why not?

I Did It (Again)

I just completed a marathon this morning in 4:03:30 (unofficial time). It’s actually my second marathon, but, for all intents and purposes, it might as well have been my first, as my actual first marathon was way the hell back in ‘02.

It was a great run, and I owe it all to a strict training regimen that I downloaded from MarathonRookie.com.  additionally, I was better prepared for it from a ‘comfort’ standpoint.  I purchased yesterday at the Marathon Expo a stick of BodyGlide, some NipGuards (sounds funny but, oh, so necessary!), and a couple of energy bars (for after the run).  And I totally carboloaded last night, thanks in great part to Pizza Hut’s Pasta collection.

I made sure to get at least six hours of sleep last night, which definitely helped.  I eased into the morning, having a light breakfast (oatmeal with peanut butter– carbs and protein!) and at least 32 ounces of water.  I generously applied the BodyGlide on my upper and lower thighs, my waist (where the garter of my running short would eventually rub against), my armpits, and around my nipples.  I used the NipGuards for the first time this morning, so I had to read the instructions thoroughly.

I left the house at 615am, got to a parking spot across the river at around 625am, and walked a half-mile, across the Hawthorne Bridge, over to the start line.  The mood at the start line was obviously energetic, but several runners around me expressed being nervous.  Understandably so– 26.2 miles is no small feat.  To go against Nike’s mantra, one doesn’t “just do” a marathon.  One has to train right for it.  But no matter how well one trains, anything can happen on the course– a misstep can lead to a sprained ankle or worse; bad weather can dampen not only the roads but runners’ spirits; improper hydration prior to and during the run can spell trouble down the line.

I personally felt good.  Not great, but good.  I’d been battling a cold since Monday, and have been hopped up on Zicam since Wednesday.  In fact, I took one of the lozenges at five in the morning as the scratchy throat and runny nose were evident when I awoke.  Thankfully, adrenaline also helped in getting geared up for the run.

Everything had been going well until I passed mile 13.  I stupidly forgot to snag the bag of ShotBlok from the trunk of my car, and had at that point been without my obligatory every-five-mile serving.  Sure, it’s probably all placebo effect anyway, but the ShotBloks totally helped in providing me much-needed bursts of energy during my training that I considered it essential for the run today.  Luckily, handfuls of Gummi Bears magically appeared every seven miles, and the sugar content was enough to convince me that I was replenishing my energy reserves.

I hit my wall at Mile 22.  It made matters worse that there were throngs of people there shouting, “You’re on the home stretch!” or “Just 4 more miles to go!” that all I kept thinking was, “Why don’t you run this effin thing?!  Let’s see how excited you‘ll be right about now!”  And, as if things couldn’t get any more challenging, at Mile 23– just when I’d made up my mind to push through– Amtrak decided it was a great time to leave with a train full of people heading down to Salem.  So, for five minutes, about five dozen runners were stopped at the train tracks, ruining their running pace, cursing at the train.  In fact, I think I saw one girl tear up.

It wasn’t until Mile 24 when I finally made the push for the final 2.2 miles at a near-sprint.  I didn’t want to be walking as I crossed the finish line, and the only way that I could make it was to run fast.  So, in the end, I finished strong.  Well, at least to the myriad bystanders, that’s what I hoped it looked like.

So, here I am now.  I’ve showered, and downed about five bottled waters, two peanut butter cookies, a couple of energy bars, a banana, a bottle of Nesquik (don’t laugh; it’s totally awesome!).  My legs are quite sore; going down the stairs will be a bit of a challenge for the next couple of days.  And my rear nether regions– the area I didn’t think to apply the BodyGlide, feels like I’d been violated by a septuagenarian hooker with a strap on.  Five times.

But it’s all good.  I finished a marathon.  And, the crazy thing is– I can’t wait until the next one!

What I Didn’t Do During My Summer Vacation

As I laid in bed this morning, allowing my body to slowly wake up to the cool autumnal air, one thought seeped out of my groggy mental state: “Where the fck did my summer go?!”

Three months! Three fckn months of awesome weather* during which I could sanely wear shorts and t-shirts went by and I had nothing to show for it. Okay, so I’m exaggerating a little, but, seriously, it seemed like I let this glorious season slip by me.  In fact, here’s a short list of “must do” stuff that I didn’t get a chance to cross off my list:

Have a vacation – It was just too damn busy at work that I couldn’t take any time off and enjoy the beautiful, temperate* summer that descends upon Portland and surrounding areas annually.

Hit the water - It’s a known fact that the sun shines so brightly and warmly in Oregon on only two days in the year, and that those are the only days during which the surrounding water– be it river, lake, or ocean– gets “warm enough” to play in. And, wouldn’t you know that I had to work on those two fckin days?!

Get a tan – I mean, sure, I was born lightly toasted, but I can also get quite pasty for a Filipino. I know something’s wrong when someone refers to me as “Whitey.”

Go camping – Sure, I hate camping. The mere thought makes me break out in hives. But the thought of spending some time with good friends in the great outdoors– even if I join them for only one night– would’ve been tons of fun.

Go to a BBQ – I was invited to tons of BBQ’s this past summer but because of my work schedule I couldn’t go to a single one of them. Mthrfckr!

Oh, fckn well… there’s always next year. Right?

* This excludes the two fckn weeks of Heat Wave ‘09 when the temperatures made it seem like we were living on Mercury.

Priyanka Chopra

Priyanka Chopra: Another Desi Beauty

Bipasha Basu

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Hood to Coast: The Mother of All Relays

I recently participated in Hood to Coast and had a blast!

Our first runners started at the base of Timberline Lodge on Mount Hood at 7:45 a.m. on Friday morning, and all twelve of us ran the final 30 feet to the finish line at Seaside, Oregon, on the beach at around 1:00 p.m. on Saturday afternoon.

I’m in Van #2, which meant that my team of 6 started a little later on Friday.  My first leg was at around 2:30 p.m. and it was nearly 7 miles through a section of the Springwater Corridor.  It was quite flat with a slight downhill, which I found easy to traverse.

My team mates and I in Van #2 finished our first legs at around 6:00 p.m., and we headed to our van captain’s parents’ house in Council Crest where her parents opened up their home to us.  We enjoyed hot showers, amazing hosts, and a leisurely dinner before getting/attempting to get some shuteye before the next round.  We had to leave by 9:30 p.m. in order to make it to the next van exchange in St. Helens, Oregon.

My second run was at around midnight on Saturday morning.  It was 5 miles on a gravel road in pitch darkness, with only the occasional car passing by and a small headlamp providing much-needed illumination of the road ahead.  I had to fight off imagined scenes from the Blair Witch Project during my run.

We had a bit of a hiccup at the next van exchange near Mist, Oregon (a.k.a. “the middle of nowhere”) when Van #1 failed to show up at the designated time.  (We blame poor cell reception, an absence of two-way walkie-talkies, and Van #1 oversleeping.)  I had the distinct pleasure of giving the last runner of our van the bad news that his replacement runner was not there yet.  “Shit,” was all he said after running his own dark 5-miler.  Thankfully, the first runner of Van #1 appeared at the runners’ exchange chute within 5 minutes.  She apologized and was clearly disoriented when she started to run in the opposite direction!  “Sorry,” she muttered, “I’m not awake yet.”  This gave us in Van #2 something to chuckle about for a while.

While our cohorts in the other van were running their legs, we drove to the final van exchange outside of Astoria, Oregon (a.k.a. “the middle of nowhere: part 2″) for another shot at respite. Sleeping under the stars turned into a feeling of being constantly spritzed in the face, as three of us slept/attempted to doze in sleeping bags in the lingering mist.  The ground was hard and lumpy and it was all I could do to find a comfortable position.  (The other three were lucky/unlucky enough to have to sleep inside the van.)  An hour-and-a-half was all I could muster while sleeping on a (petrified) cloud.

This is why I don’t enjoy camping.

I woke up with a definite concern. It might have been a combination of not sleeping correctly or the strain of the first two legs, but my right ankle hurt badly. I tried icing it down and taking some Ibuprofen before running my final leg– a nearly 8-miler on rolling hills.  Another runner in our van offered to exchange legs with me– his was just a little over 4 miles– but I refused.  I told my van mates that I was going to run last leg no matter what but to check on me after the first three miles.

The first few minutes of my final leg were brutal and I was nearly fast-walking instead of running.  I kept thinking how foolish it was to allow my pride to take me over, refusing the offer of having someone else run my leg.  But, as I got into the run– and adrenaline (and possibly the Ibuprofen) kicked in– I barely noticed the painful ankle and started running at my normal 7½-to-8-minute-mile pace.  Seeing my team mates at the three-mile mark– and their gifts of bottled water and a Shot Blok– was a sight for sore, um, ankles, and gave me a much-needed energy boost.  Seeing them again (unexpectedly) at the six-mile mark was also a welcome reprieve.  I finished my leg– under time– and gladly handed the wristband (a.k.a. “the baton”) over to the next runner.

I was done!  I’d run Hood-to-Coast 2009!  Now, it was up to the remaining three runners to get us to the beach!

I remember saying after my first HTC experience that I will never do it again.  This marked my fifth time doing the “Mother of All Relays,” and I’m looking forward to the next!

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Animal Collective “My Girls”

Is it much that I feel I need
A solid soul and the blood I bleed
With a little girl, and by my spouse
I only want a proper house

I don’t care for fancy things
Or to take part in a precious race
And children cry for the one who has
A real big heart and a father’s grace

I don’t mean to seem like I care about material things like a social status
I just want four walls and adobe slabs for my girls

Cool!