Weary, Weary Me

For the last 48 hours I've been writing a story to submit to a horror anthology. Right now, New Year's Eve, my darling wife is proofing the last draft. Submission deadline closes at midnight. I wrote from noon to 11:00 last night. Eight o'clock to 1:10 today, went to the gym, then wrote from 4:30 to 10:20. MDW assures me I'm getting the rapid proof that will merely nip the worst grammatical offenders.

This story actually started out as something called Behind the Scenes. But over three weeks, it's changed, changed again and finally become Tyto Alba, the tale of a slacker who pays a price for "going with the flow."

All pressure is self-imposed. I must return to my young adult novel and didn't want this almost-finished story lounging around, up to no good.

And so, as I await changes on my final story for 2007, I say to one and all:

And Yet Another . . .

. . . Merry Christmas!

Predicting Sub 4 Hours at Eugene Marathon

Ice all over the hills yesterday as I ran a pleasant seven miles. Puddles from the recent rain were glazed over and frost covered the foliage. Spring Team in Training slogged along, doing a 20 mile run. I wished them well in passing.

Ha! There! It's done! I've officially signed up for the Eugene Marathon I'm building up base mileage and will begin training in late January. Having overtrained my way to injury last year, I figure to avoid that pitfall and, this May, break four hours.

Wrapping up last-minute Christmas chores. Now I need to send out cards. I've been so buried writing that short story that time has drifted past like a real good metaphor. Last night I hung the lights. I think I overdid it.

Blogged Down

Not many new entries as Christmas arrives on merry feet. This Monday I had breakfast with my agent, the lovely and financially-astute JKR. I learned that animation buyers now want writing samples that consist of original, live-action, sit-com scripts. It makes no sense.
Sit-com writers excel at funny dialogue. Their scripts are little more than a series of character names followed by set-ups and punch-lines. That's what the medium calls for. Animation writers must sling their jokes while rendering a blueprint that artists can board. In any case, I must now create a free, half-hour calling card for a medium in which I have bales of produced material.

As James Donald said at the end of Bridge on the River Kwai:

"Madness!"

His Brain's Overloading

Freakazoid! was the most fun I've had writing animation. A DVD of the first season will be released soon. Not that I'll see a cent, but it sure was a blast.

A Break

The first five chapters of Dummy Fever percolates in a second-draft stew. Next week I'll tidy it up and start my beta test process. So far I have a book club agreeing to give me feed back. As the story features a 13-year-old protagonist, I'm trying to line up a pair of high-school, freshman English classes. Given my general level of immmaturity, I find it quite easy writing as a teenager.

In the meantime, I'm blasting through a short story called Behind the Scenes. A rewrite of something I started two years ago, Scenes has Hollywood meet Washington, D.C. in a genetic engineering experiment gone wrong. There's nothing like crafting a light-hearted romp about massive fraud, incompetence and bio-engineered monsters to take my mind off holiday stress.

Coach

Me? It looks that way. I've agreed to be an assistant running coach for the San Gabriel Valley Team in Training. I'll find out more about my job this Friday at a meeting for mentors, captains, coaches, and commodores. (I threw in the "commodores." To my knowledge, TNT does not have a naval arm.) Hopefully, I can transmit my enjoyment of the sport to new runners.

I'll tell 'em about the injuries later.

Pearl Harbor: The Real McCoy

"A day of infamy," said President Franklin Roosevelt about the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor, December 7, 1941. (On a documentary, a surviving sailor recalled his feelings less poetically: "Holy smokes! Those are Japs! This is the real McCoy!") Reams have been written about what FDR knew and when he knew it. As the United States had broken the Japanese diplomatic code, there was speculation that the president deliberately withheld knowledge of impending attack from the military so as to use the bombing as an excuse to enter World War II.

But we were already fighting German U-boats in the Atlantic. Not to mention that a Japanese mini-sub was sunk inside Pearl Harbor by one of our ships hours before the aerial assault. Mostly we battled a mindset that said, despite two years of war all around us, we'd be just fine.

December 7th changed all that.

Be the Ball, Danny.

Joined TNT folk for their track workout tonight. Coach Katie suggested 200 meter repeats where I just concentrate on form. Odd feeling, running on a track and not keeping time. But that's the sort of workout I'll do for awhile. This year I turned running into a job and resented it. Maybe when it's fun again, I'll check my watch.

So I got that going for me.

Ken Burns Burned in Video

If you like parodies of Ken Burns, this mockumentary is a honey.

Fun?

Had lunch with Coach Katie yesterday. We talked of many things, including running. Katie felt I'd lost all sense of joy when it came to this sport of ours. Very true. Most of 2007 was spent training, being injured, and training again. So tomorrow I set out on a five-mile run without my watch. I'll run, finish whenever, and just chill. Mid-January I'll train again.

Next stop: May 4, 2008 - the Eugene Marathon! (That's Eugene, Oregon, a city that is to running what South Bend, Indiana is to college football.)

Blast From My Improv Past

In the early 80s I performed improvisational comedy with a group called the L.A. Connection. Our cast worked Friday nights. Afterwards, we'd buy a lot of beer, head over to someone's apartment and wait for SCTV to air at 12:30 AM. When it came to parody, they lived in the zone. Here's an old favorite starring Martin Short.

Happy T-Day!

A brisk run, writing, some phone calls to friends and family then off to the in-laws for chow and the Southern Cal game.

At some point this weekend, my darling wife and I will sit down to watch Planes, Trains and Automobiles. Starring Steve Martin and John Candy, this film is our Thanksgiving favorite. Released in 1987, "Planes" celebrates its 20th birthday. Next year, it can buy liquor.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Robots and Seniors

Oz didn't give nothing to the Tin Man, certainly not old peoples' medicine.

Strike Talks and Writing

WGA and Producer's Guild talks resume next Monday. Talent agents did a little back-channel negotiating and got things moving. We shall see.

Going from poi to Pai Gow poker, running partner Ernesto prepares for the Las Vegas Marathon now a mere two weeks away. This will be his first 26-miler since Honolulu last year.

Writing like a frenzied fellow on the second draft of my book, Dummy Fever.

An animated series I worked on this summer has begun airing. I haven't seen an episode yet, so I won't link. But the story editor told me most of the show's humor has been culled out to make way for a lengthy didactic message on proper behaviour for kids.

Just writing that caused me to slip into rem.

Writers Fight for Cyber Gold

Cutting writers in on internet revenue is a key component of the strike. The producers maintain they aren't making any money off the Web. Thanks to Little Miss Attila for this link showing what studio heads really think.

Another Blorthday

Number two, to be exact, since I started Write Enough. Somewhere I discovered a ranking system measuring blog traffic. I am the 59,000th most popular blog in the world.

From a practical standpoint, knowing my writing could be read by anywhere from 6 to 17 people a day does improve my prose.

Or at least compresses it.

Happy B-Day, USMC!

A happy belated 232nd birthday to the United States Marine Corps. Yesterday, in units all over the world, the oldest and youngest Marines cut a birthday cake (or whatever they could scrounge) in honor of the Corps. Also "well done" to all our veterans past and present.

Craig's List Strike Nuggets

A guy this morning offered to picket in exchange for an introduction to an agent. (I think the post has since been taken down.)

Then there's this fellow.

(The above post has been taken down. But it said: "I Am A Scab!" The author then described himself as an "amazing writer"ready to work now and that the strikers were all "has-beens." I think it was put up by Les Moonves.)

Big Darn Writer's Strike

Nikke Finke's sources say that if this dispute isn't settled by December, there could be six more months of strike-filled fun. Find out the latest at Deadline Hollywood Daily.

A friend of mine is an editor at Universal. His union local (I.A.T.S.E. or the International Alliance of Theatrical Stage Employees, Moving Picture Technicians, Artists and Allied Crafts [It goes on.]) has a no-strike clause in their contract. That means they can't walk out in sympathy. Nevertheless, he honks his horn and patiently endures the strikers' "slow walk" in front of his car as he leaves work.

Oddly enough, I also belong to I.A.T.S.E. and would hazard a guess that animation writing falls under the heading of "allied crafts." Long ago, they represented animation artists when artists and directors worked out the action on storyboards. There were a few "gag writers" such as Michael Maltese who came up with story ideas, but for a 6-minute theatrical short, you didn't need a script.

By the time I started full-time at Warner Bros. (1992), there were 65 half-hours to produce and the clock was ticking. Writers wrote scripts that were story boarded, inked, painted and animated. But we remained in I.A.T.S.E. In the mid-90s there was a push by the Writer's Guild to represent us. But our I.A.T.S.E. local must first release us from their jurisdiction. At a meeting I attended, a local official stated the national union wasn't interested in letting us join WGA. Furthermore, the local would side with the studios if that were necessary to block our transfer.

Some union. But they had pretty good health coverage that my wife and I dearly miss. Health coverage is based on the amount of hours you work on union jobs in a six month period. Alas, I haven't worked many. Over the last few years I've burned through my COBRA and now pay a hefty fee for mediocre coverage.

In any case, I don't know what happened between WGA and I.A.T.S.E., but, as I mentioned earlier, it's nice to be remembered.

Strike News

Nikki Finke from the front lines.

Today We Have . . .

Rogue Endurance Club

Toward the end of a marathon, you'll often see runners shuffling along, hunched over like the letter "c." Their core muscles (abdominal, lower back, butt, hips and pelvis) lack strength. Unable to stay upright, they grow tired and slower with every step. My former coach, Jimmy Freeman, runner and all-around shy fellow, will be conducting core strength and stabilization classes. This six-week series starts Tue. Nov. 13 on the Westside and soon after that in Pasadena. Click here for more info.

A spectator at yesterday's Olympic Trials, Jimmy has posted a few comments and photos.

Ryan Shay Dead

During the Men's Marathon Olympic trials yesterday in New York, 28-year-old runner Ryan Shay collapsed and died shortly after the start of the race. Recently married, Shay's death was a hard pill for elite marathoners to swallow. He was friends with race winner Ryan Hall, who set a new Olympic qualifiying record. Hall covered the 26.2 mile distance in 2 hours, nine minutes and two seconds.

Hall, along with second and third-place finishers Dathan Ritzenheim and Brain Sell, will represent the U.S. in the 2008 Olympic Games in Beijing. Congrats to our marathon team, but it's indeed bittersweet.

Strike

Details of the Writer's Guild strike will be announced today. Nikki Finke has a good round-up of the issues dividing writers and studios. DVDs, blogs, MySpace pages and other forms of new media occupy center stage.

Of lessor note, the Guild wants to represent writers currently working in the fields of reality TV as well as animation — me. That would be cool, since most TV animation doesn't pay residuals. But it sounds like one of those things you include in a deal in order to throw out so you can show you're being reasonable.

Nevertheless, it's nice to be remembered.

Good luck, writers!

Happy Halloween!

A fine holiday, despite the fact that we haven't had a child ring our doorbell in 11 years. (Our local hills are steep.) But that doesn't stop my wife and I from buying treats and eating them all up. In fact, at this point, we would resent trick-or-treaters. Greedy little goblins!

Nova Marathon News

That Nova marathon special airs in Los Angeles at 8:00 PM. (Channel 3 on Charter Cable.)

Afoot at the Finish Line

Here's me hoofing it home at the frozen Phoenix Marathon back in January.

Over the last several miles, the course passes through a neighborhood that deftly blends desert scrub with industrial wasteland. You can rest your weary eyes on a huge power plant, highway bridges, and sharp plants. Very few people cheer in these parts. However, fewer distractions allow more time to focus on physical and metal discomfort.

Fortunately, Ironman Kate Martini ran me in the last 6.2 miles. She didn't tolerate loafing and knocked five minutes off my finish time by pulling me along in her wake.

Note the cap turned youthfully backwards. I did that around mile 25 and can't remember why. (It's not as if I were racing so fast my hat was about to flutter off.) In any case, no one should be held responsible for their actions in the last stages of a marathon.

Within reason, of course.

Pinky and The Brain and F5s

Ten years ago, I wrote a Pinky and the Brain episode called Brain Storm. Our intrepid mice decide to conquer the world via tornado power. To this end, Brain builds a clunky robotic device called a Verkimer Suit. Inside the suit, Pinky and the Brain allow a cyclone funnel to pass over them, hijacking the storm from within.

Last night, I caught Storm Chasers on the Discovery Channel. In addition to pursuing puffy clouds all over Tornado Alley, these chasers added an IMAX cameraman in his own vehicle known as a T.I.V., or Tornado Intercept Vehicle. Weighing 14,000 pounds, this mini-tank is designed to be overrun by a twister so the cameraman may obtain 70mm footage of tornado innards.

Watch a video here.

I should've copyrighted the Verkimer Suit.

Marathon on PBS

Next week Nova airs a show about ten novice runners, trained for nine months to complete the 2007 Boston Marathon. For most marathoners, Boston is a destination, something earned, reached only through a qualifying race. (For my age group, that's a 3 hour 45 minute marathon. Am I anywhere near that? BWAHAHAHAHAH.) In any case, a most odd — and hilly — selection for untried runners.

I'll be watching with a sympathetic heart next Tuesday, Oct. 30. Training for a marathon, let alone running one, is a test on many levels. Go rookies!

"Clear and Smoky"

The above paradox appears courtesy of Weather Underground. Yesterday was particularly unclear and smoky. The Santa Clarita fires made our local mountains appear to be harboring a volcano. Ash fell on cars and the sun gleemed a brilliant red.

Today, fire conditions were such that the local high school cross country team moved into my health club en masse, grabbing all the ellipticals and tredmills. I guess outdoor practice was cancelled. I wonder what happened to their gym?

Lessons Learned

As my IT heals and I'm running again, what nuggets did I glean from this last marathon training cycle?

1. Don't Skip Stretching.
As miles piled up in spring, I fell out of the habit of fully stretching after runs. A torn calf muscle resulted.

2. Accept What You Have
When I resumed running after eight weeks, my mind recalled a faster pace than my post-injury body could provide. This led to unrealistic long runs, that eventually burned me out.

3. Pick A Plan, Any Training Plan
There's all kinds of ways to tackle marathons and I tried every one. With 12 weeks to prepare for Chicago, I juggled the FIRST plan with old Team in Training routines. Choose one and commit.

4. Lift Weights
After tearing my calf muscle, I stopped lifting weights and never resumed. I felt the lack of strength on my long runs. Coupled with bad pacing and summer heat, this led to several miserable outings. Weight training really pays off beyond mile 20. (And strengthens the IT band.)

5. Don't Practice Quitting
Often I adopt an all-or-nothing attitude. Thus, if I miss a goal, I quit rather than modify my run. A few times I knew I couldn't maintain a certain pace. So I cut the run short, thus acquiring the habit of quitting. This ties in with No. 2 and No. 6 below.

6. Build Your Mental Muscles
Visualizations, mantras, counting steps and other mental tricks help you triumph over negativity and the "can'ts." But they should be integrated throughout the training cycle.

Now on to the next marathon and brand new errors.

Jimmy Dean Freeman Qualifies for Western States

Jimmy Dean Freeman, coach, distance runner, racounteur, holds up an inspirational sign addressed to himself. I'd do stranger things if I just ran 50.9 miles in 8 hours 9 minutes and 39 seconds. (That's a marathon, followed by another marathon.) Those results qualify Jimmy to run twice that far over tough, inaccesible terrain in the 2008 Western States 100.

Last month, his attempted qualification for Western States resulted in failure. Running the Angeles Crest 100, he was forced to drop out because of injury. Disappointed, Jimmy Dean persevered and yesterday, up in San Francisco, achieved his goal. As Confucius once said:

The gem cannot be polished without friction, nor man perfected without trials.

He also said that anyone who bought him a shot and a beer was wise, but that's another saying.

Giving Back

During autumn, when pigskins fill the air, it's important to remember that not every professional football player is in the game for himself.

So long, Paulette Oates

Had lunch today with Tom Ruegger. As we bemoaned the current state of TV animation, he mentioned Paulette Oates had died. Paulette was the "supply sarge" at Warner TV Animation back in its prime. If you needed post-its or your office moved to another floor, call Paulette. She was one of the first employees brought in as the division staffed up for Tiny Toons. Paulette managed office operations in Sherman Oaks from the late 80s through the booming 90s into the spiral-down OOs. I'd often run into her outside the front door where we'd have a smoke and discuss our mutual love for Las Vegas and games of chance.

In recent years, Paulette successfully battled lung cancer. But as the TV animation division atrophied, she was laid off this summer, dying shortly thereafter from a heart attack. And while the division won a pile of Emmys then zero, Paulette continued on through the years, doing a host of vital unsung chores very well.

Rest peacefully, Paulette. What with bingo in churches, there's a good chance you'll find blackjack in Heaven. All the best. Don't split 10s.

IT Band

You can't download music from the iliotibial band. This hardy group of fibers runs along the outside of your thigh. My right IT band has been sore since September and felt tender during the marathon. This Monday I ran an EZ 3 miles and my IT has ached ever since. Ice, elevation and aspirin are my lot as this newest of injuries joins such illustrious company as broken foot and torn calf muscle. But now is my marathon recovery period, so injuries, if not welcome, are at least tolerated for their thoughtful timing. I've uploaded a picture my cousin Mary Ann took at the Health and Fitness Expo. This shows me running more than I actually do during the marathon.

Chi Marathon Post Script

Some final Chicago thoughts. Amber mentions encountering marathoners who weren't allowed to finish. Re-routed back to Grant Park, many ran through the finish line out onto the course, then back again in order to get a finish line photo. As runners were still crossing the mat from the other direction, this might compare to driving your car up an exit ramp onto the freeway. Getting gyped out of a race is tough. But hazarding other runners for a picture is boorish.

My former TNT coach, Jimmy Freeman, suggested lawyers advised the race director to blame runners for water shortages as any hint of culpability would result in a lawsuit tsumani. Sad but probably true.

Still, it leaves him sounding cheap and mean.

Walked 3 miles on Saturday, while Ernesto ran 14 in preparation for December's Las Vegas Marathon. I met him at various points along our course with water and power bars. Meantime, I encountered many current Team in Training chums. As it happened, I'd brought my Chicago medal and a fine array of catastrophe stories.

Congrats to running partner Melissa for finishing today's Long Beach Marathon. Melissa brought it home in 4:48. There was a time in early spring when we hoped to break 4 hours this fall at our respective races. But, as a wise marathon runner once said, it's a victory just making it to the start line.

Chicago Marathon Snippets

Around Mile 7, a race volunteer waved a red flag. Having just seen one at Disneyland, I recognized the flag as a heat warning. However, since I'd already run seven miles through Sauna City, I felt the warning was moot.

Incidentally, that Disneyland post needs updating. Chicago is now the hottest race I've ever run.

When water cups were available, they were often half-empty. (In this matter, I'm a pessimist.) As the race wore on, Gatorade was served piping hot.

There was a single sponge station somewhere in the 20-mile range.

A bank around Jackson Street showed the temperature at 90 degrees.

As mentioned below, confusion spread after the "race closed" announcement. Cops, firemen and race officials yelled, "walk." Months of training hollered, "run if you can." I believe the term for that is cognitive dissonance.

Rumors spread that the timing mats were turned off.

One race offical yelled that running to the finish line still wouldn't get you a medal.

Chicago hopes to host the 2016 Summer Olympics.

When I left for LA on Tuesday morning, the temperature was 58 degrees.

(Photo credit: MSNBC.)

Sweat Home Chicago

Marathon number three continued my tradition of only running marathons with temperature extremes. At dawn it was an overcast, humid 75 degrees and climbing. My niece dropped me off near the lake-front start line around 7:00 AM. I checked my gear, loosened up with T'ai Chi, then stood in a tightly-packed brick of humanity waiting for the 8:00 gun. As the overcast dissolved into popcorn-shaped clouds, the sun rose above Lake Michigan. It felt like a furnace door opening.

Because of crowd size, it took me 20 minutes to cross the mat.

Interesting Stat:

The Chicago Marathon sold out all 45,000 spots back in April.

But only 35,867 passed the start line Sunday morning. That means 9,133 people figured out it was too stinking hot to run.

Lots of TNT runners from Illinois, Iowa, Kansas, New York City and even Louisiana.

The field was so packed it was tough to interval. Those who intervaled clashed with those who viewed the far right of the course as a passing lane. My goal was a 4 hour and 40 minute marathon. I aimed to interval four minutes running/ and one walking up to the half-marathon mark, then see how I felt.

Leaving Grant Park, the course turned onto LaSalle Street just past Mile 2 and headed north. No water at the first stop — they'd run out. There was a mob around the folding tables, shaking gallon water jugs to get the last drops. The surrounding street was littered with flattened Gatorade and Hinkley water cups from the preceding runners. (Wet, flat plastic cups are like ice. You had to watch your footing.) People were highly pissed — especially those without water belts. (I'd brought mine.) One runner had a bottle of Gatorade. He took a sip, passed it back to me. I took a sip and passed it on to another runner. This no-water business boded ill.

Running for several miles on LaSalle, you'd get an occasional breeze through the tall buildings. I'd take off my visor and savor the cool air. Then out into Lincoln Park where the water stations remained a problem. Runners were surging across the street to the first one they saw. Sometimes there was only Gatorade. Other times, volunteers couldn't keep up with demand and runners served themsevles. Whenever possible, I grabbed two cups, drinking one and dumping the other over my head. (In today's Chicago Tribune, the race director blamed runners for the water shortages, citing those who took two cups.)

Around mile eight, I saw an old white-haired runner drift off course and ask a spectator if he could sit in his lawn chair. (The guy helped him down.) By now, sirens whooped all over the city as ambulances rushed the first heat casualties to the hospital.

The heat was getting to me. For the moment, I slowed but kept the same interval. But as we turned west onto Adams, the shade disappeared. No tall buildings, no leafy tree-lined streets with brick apartments. I passed a medical tent and it was full: runners on cots and others holding ice bags to their heads. Past the half-way point, I started tossing out goals like a passenger on a sinking boat dumping freight. Dropping to a 3:1 run/walk, I slowed pace even more. After frying my brain in Honolulu two years ago, I listened to my body and if it said walk more, I did.

We doubled-back east on Jackson and finally found a little shade. Turning south on Halsted to mile 17, I was mostly walking. I'd pick a point and run to it, or run half a mile, or choose a runner going about my speed and tag along. I took another salt tablet, but skipped goo as it made me retch.

Somewhere around mile 18, the cops bull-horned that the race had been cancelled. No finishing times would be official. Please walk. There was a great deal of confusion. By now, the city had opened up fire hydrants and fire trucks stood at certain intersections hosing down the crowd. (Not to mention ordinary Chicago citizens with garden hoses doing the same.) Finally, in the Mexican neighborhood of Pilsen, around mile 19 it sunk into the vast majority of runners that the 2007 Chicago Marathon was toast — just like them. Some runners dropped out at the nearest medical tent where they'd be bussed back to the start line. Some ran on. A nasty rumor surfaced that we wouldn't get medals. This put me into a black mood.

Come what may, I was determined to finish. Because my legs hurt, I ran 1:1 off and on to around mile 22, then walked to mile 26. Along with many others, I ran the final .02 because there were cameras present. 24,933 runners crossed the finish line.

And they did give out medals.

I finished in 5 hours, 48 minutes and 23 seconds. Check the Comments of my previous post where Jeff Carroll has listed my unofficial splits.

One man died and over 300 were hospitalized for heat injuries.

The people lining the route were great. Many offered water or ice cubes, staying on to cheer in the heat long after the race was called.

As for the "other" race — the front end of the marathon where people actually had a chance to win — Kenyan Patrick Ivuti beat Moroccan Jaouad Gharib by .05 of a second. (2:11:11) The top woman's finisher, Ethiopian Berhane Adere edged Roumanian Adriana Pertea in the homstretch. Pertea thought she had the race knocked, and eased off, waving to the crowd as she neared the finish. Adere poured on the coal to catch and pass Pertea for the win. (2:33:49.)

Given my injuries since April, I couldn't think of a better race to cancel. But if I'd been a TNTer who'd fund-raised and trained for this moment, or a runner eager to pr, I'd be supremely miffed at Sunday's outcome. For over a week, I'd been tracking the temperature. I knew it would be hot and humid. Hence, the race organizers did also. I find it hard to believe they couldn't increase the amount of water stations, change the start time to earlier, or better prepare for the heat onslaught they knew was coming. The Honolulu Marathon faces these conditions every year. No one could pick up a phone?

In any case: mission accomplished. After 30 years, I finally finished the Chicago Marathon.

Thanks to Ryan, Raul, Jeff and K for the emails. I'm walking around fine after sleeping eleven hours last night.

As for now, I'm not looking at any marathons before next fall in Pasadena. But don't tell anyone I'm entering.

They'll kick me out to avoid extreme weather.

(All photos courtesy of the Chicago Tribune.)

Chicago Marathon Bound

I am excited after all. I leave early this morning for Chicago. Thirty years have passed and I'm finally going to complete the Chicago Marathon. Yes, I won't PR. Yes, it will be hot and humid. Yes, I have a minor injury in my right glute. But I'm gonna have a great old time on a nice, flat course with lots of cheering people.

My cousin Mary Ann is putting me up for two nights. Then it's off to a motel for race prep and recovery, then one more day visiting sundry friends and relatives.

I'll try and post after the race.

See ya!

Something to Ponder

So here I am over at the Disney Channel, looking for work. They have monitors in the wating area running Disney programs. Suddenly, a shocking, familiar sight: Pinky and the Brain! It seems Disney's Jetix channel leased a block of the old Warner Bros. animation library. Returning to TV this Sunday will be Batman, Superman, and, on Monday, Pinky and the Brain.

An episode I wrote, "Brainania," airs Friday evening, Oct. 5. (Check your local listings, as they say. ) P&B attempt to take over the world using the power of static cling, generated by a colossal clothes dryer. "Brainania" was part of the WB's short-lived, P&B prime-time show, produced by Peter Hastings and Rusty Mills. Our indefatigable mice were slotted head-to-head with 60 Minutes, a Sunday-night ratings monster in 1995.

And that was that.

But 12 years later, 60 Minutes ails, the WB has perished and Pinky and the Brain live on.

Or, as the Brain might say, "HA!" (He always played a long game.)


P&B airs on Disney's Jetix, beginning Oct. 1. Check out episodes and show times here.