Computer Woes and Track Practice

Tapping away, transcribing Dummy Fever into a back-up computer, rewriting as I go. My powerbook lanquishes in tech hosptial with no word due until Monday. Mostly, I'm concerned with losing financial data. As it is, I'm reconciling bank statements the old-fashioned way — by hand and math. It's like having to suddenly use a typewriter or an analog phone. (The kind with a dial like you see in movies.)

Ran 800 meter repeats last night at the La Crescenta high school track. Football practice occupied the field for most of my workout and I had to slow at times to avoid getting thumped with a field goal try. (Ah, it all brought back fond memories of hot August days with a hoarse coach hollering at me to stay low on tackles.)

Each track seems to have its own evening rhythm. In La Cresecenta, it's the Grand Promenade. As the sun dipped behind the Verdugo Hills and the football team headed off to shower, couples and kids and families and groups arrived to walk around the track.

Strollers clearly outnumbered runners. I had to dodge and weave quite a bit. For some reason, I was reminded of the scene from Midnight Express where Brad Davis winds up in a Turkish madhouse. Inmates are made to walk in a circle all day. At one point, he turns and walks against the grain, upsetting his fellow mad, who grab and clutch at him. For a fleeting moment, I thought that might happen to me.

Still, the run was good training for a crowded race like Chicago.



Or a Turkish madhouse.

Sixteen & Change

A ragged run in the hot sun. My alliteration hasn't suffered, just my pacing. Very uneven. Afterwards, my car battery died, but Ernesto gave me a jump.

Computer remains in a state of crash. All my email addresses are stuck inside. I backed up most of my writing, but several newer projects weren't archived.

Unexpected expenses over the last two months: garage door, car, plumbing, computer, car. Oh, and I just discovered a leak in the shower.

AM Run, Writing Notes, Computer Mort

Early morning is a far better time to run in a 95 degree heat-wave. Worked in some tempo miles at 6:30 AM and had the best run in several months. Crossed paths with Katie McCollum, yet another former TNT coach. Apparently all the fashionable people finish their runs before 8 AM. :-)

Good feedback at writer's group today. Bernadette, my instructor, had a few solid ideas for my protagonist. In general, I'm working better with characters. Actually got some good ideas from reading a Harry Potter book. Rowling does a deft job describing teenagers embarrassing themselves — an activity I needed for "Dummy Fever."

Dutton passed on my other young adult novel, "The Whompago." (I've changed the title to the slightly less cryptic, "The Shifting.") I should withdraw the outline from consideration with Simon and Shuster and deepen the characters. What the heck?

I'm writing this at the Apple computer repair store, surrounded by really cool expensive stuff. But yesterday my hard drive crashed like a holiday drunk and I really need to retrieve a bunch of stuff. Hopefully, that will happen as I finish this post.

Dummy Down!

Just completed draft one of a book outline for Dummy Fever, a young adult novel about a loner kid who learns to appreciate others. This makes the third novel I've outlined since last June. (Horror novel, Apple Dan, and young adult novel, The Shifting). Plus I'm beginning the outline on a sci-fi detective story called The Toy Man.

I'm getting really good at outlining. Could be, maybe, time to write one.

Fourteen Hot Miles

Yesterday was my longest run since the Phoenix Marathon. Ernesto and I met at 7:30 AM with the sun faint behind a marine layer. That didn't last long as the temperature rose like coals on a Webber Grill. As Ernesto only ran six, he met me at various points along my route with a cooler. I was able to replenish my water and dump ice onto the back of my head.

Felt sluggish and slow; really had to push myself to keep going. Time goals were way off. But I'm running Chicago anyway.

A defiant 'ha!'

Long Runs and a Salute to Kate Martini

14, 16, 18. Those are my long runs for the next three weeks. I see soreness in my future.

Congratulations to Kate Martini, one of my TNT coaches from last season. She completed the Vineman full triathalon last Saturday. That's a 2.4-mile swim, a 112-mile bike ride and a 26.2-mile marathon that Kate nailed in 13 hours, 49 minutes and 39 seconds. A rich full Saturday by anyone's account.

An impressive accomplishment when you consider Kate works full-time, has a part-time job, and continues run coaching for the San Gabriel Valley Team in Training. Kate committed to this triathalon last January, hired a trainer, and locked in on her goal. I think she also bought a time-stretcher over the Internet, but I don't have any more details.

And now . . . Kate Martini is an Ironman.

Ed, Edd, Eddy and Hezekiah

WARNING! SPOILERS! In animation news, those goofball brothers are rumored to have their own feature in the works. Insiders say the Eds will team up with a Judean king to outwit the Assyrian Empire. The story is said to include a scene where the brothers trade bossy Sarah to Assyrian potentate Sennacherib for some jawbreakers. But Sarah never warms to life in the capital of Assur and throws one tantrum too many. A weary Sennacherib orders her sealed in a lead drum and rolled into the Tigris. Meanwhile, the brothers bumble their way through plagues, massacres, and the rout of a mighty host. We'll have to see how this plays out with audiences.

SpongeBob Spared by Frustrated Jihadis!

A recent AP story reported SpongeBob SquarePants was captured by radical Islamists. They attempted to behead him, but couldn't find his neck. A quick search of the Quran revealed zip about the ritual slaying of a talking sponge. After much bitter grumbling, SpongeBob was released.

However Patrick has been reported missing.

Toasty Saturday Run

Very stiff from Friday's drive to San Diego. I should've stretched out last night but was too beat. Ran 12 miles today and felt sluggish and slow. The heat didn't help. I brought water, Gatorade, and salt tablets and used them all. Coach Jimmy ran with me the last two miles, pointing out that my rapid breathing was the result of CO2 clogging up the lungs and that I needed to strike a rhythm and exhale. I thought my rapid breathing was from running with a really fast, 30-year-old guy with no body fat. Nevertheless, I tried and found my heart rate slowing down as I huffed out bad air.

Ernesto did 8 miles today. A saintly man, he finished first then went out and bought ice cold Gatorade and water. I slugged down the whole bottle of Gatorade. We went out for breakfast and I gulped down water. Came home and had more water, another salt tablet and a very cold shower.

I don't think we'll barbecue tonight.

Comicon

I've been. I've seen the spatially-challenged walking around dressed as Klingons. Bless them, it beats drug addiction. Yesterday, I was a few blocks away at a party my agency throws. Ran into Paul Rugg, who was doing a presentation at Comicon with the Hensen Company. Also saw Rich Fogel, a former Batman writer. Rich mentioned ex-Bat producer/story editor Paul Dini had a panal and said nice things about Rugg, myself and Freakazoid. Hard to believe ten years ago we were down at Comicon doing a panal for the guy with lightning in his hair.

Zup! Another decade gone.

Run to the Elmer Smith Bridge

Like the fabled Alaskan "Bridge to Nowhere," the Elmer Smith Bridge spans a rocky draw in the Angeles National Forest. The bridge is closed, fenced off; stopping one from crossing over into what-appears-to-be dense brush. But Elmer sits exactly 5 miles from my start line at the Rose Bowl: turn-around point for a ten-mile run. There is a metal sign that is no longer readable. But in TNT we would ritually slap this sign as we headed back down the hills. Three months have passed since my last Elmer and I was delighted to once again slap the sign.

Finished much better this week. Drank lots of water yesterday, started earlier and slower, then closed strong on the last two miles. Iced my calves all week and will do the same this week. That helped relieve soreness. My endurance slowly rebuilds.

Ernesto was supposed to meet me but bagged due to a crushing hangover. He was caught last night in a Happy Hour Trap where you stop for one after work and wake up the next morning on the hood of a car in another state.

But we'll try again next week.

Thoughts on Writing and Success

After a wonderful five months of paying work, I'm wrapping up the last script. Now comes the furious grind of unemployment. Lots of material to prepare and pitch. But that's only if I want more work. A few years back, I'd stashed so much dough from previous gigs that unemployment took on a holiday-like quality. Now I've burned through that cash and must hustle.

I never prepared for success. Things sort of fell in my lap. I prepared to be a writer, but not how to handle money and opportunity. Living with failure was much more straightforward: just keep swinging. But success required planning and goals, things I'd never developed outside of escaping the immediate trouble that non-planning put me in.

Now my goal is transitioning from writing TV animation to books. That's a lot of effort while continuing to pay bills. But goals have stages, something I've learned from marathons. And I'm moving slowly toward mine.

Of course, I wouldn't mind a big pile of success falling in my lap again. But I got a feeling it won't happen again. I already know how to catch. Now I must learn how to reach.

Social Rose Bowl Running

Yesterday at the Rose Bowl, Ernesto and I walked for a few minutes prior to our run. We ran into former TNT mentor Felipe. He'd bought a new Prius and we checked it out. Then current TNT captain Rouman ran past. He stopped to say 'hi.' We were about to return to our warm-up when Coach Katie ran over followed by TNT alums SJ and Raul who had just finished running in the hills.

Having warmed-up physically and socially, we finally set out. Ernesto ran six and I ran eight miles. Blazing hot. A stretch of trail above the Rose Bowl near JPL labs is particularly wicked: shade-free, sun-cooked chapparrel. My finishing time was a few minutes off. Calves were sore, indicating that my endurance needs work. I'll set a slower pace next week.

In-laws were down from the Bay area, staying with us over the week-end. Great house guests. They arose early each day, went about their engagements, returned late and quietly went to bed in the guest room. We finally all met up for breakfast this morning. Now they're driving home while my wife and I are bound for various work-related projects on this sunny July Sunday.

Book Outline and Pre-Chicago Marathon

Back to book outling. Every spare piece of wall in my office is covered with 3x5 cards for novel-to-be "Dummy Fever." I also looked over an outline I finished last year. The story still stands up. I think I'll retitle the tale and send it out to a a few publishers.

Countdown to Chicago has begun. Thirteen weeks to get ready. Ran on a local high school track this morning - 400 meter repeats. First time there. Apparantly 7:00 AM is the cut-off point for unimpeded running. After that, the lanes filled up with mostly people walking. At least there were no strollers, cyclists, roller bladers or dogs on 70-foot leashes.

Or perhaps I left too early?

Garage Door Down

Hit my garage door opener on Saturday on the way out for my run. Wham! The spring broke and the double-wide metal door crashed down like a huge mouse trap — luckily harming nothing, not even itself. I got two new door springs later in the day and now everything works great.

I just didn't have it in me to blog about running or writing.

July 4 5K

Broiling heat up in Santa Clarita, as I waited to implement Step 2 . A light warm-up before the race left me dripping sweat. Felt a bit nervous as I'd only run once without walk breaks and didn't want to reinjury myself.

Gun sounded and off we went. The 5K followed a very festive, patriotic course along streets decked out with American flags for a parade later that morning. I latched on to several runners who looked more out-of-shape than I and let them pace me. They ran the first mile in 7:58. I slowed down and then hung on to finish in 25.04. This is a contemporary PR, a hair better than the 5K I ran in March .

Today's result was most gratifying since I've only been running again less than a month with zero speed work. Losing weight helped. (Since I committed two months ago, I'm down to 207) And a fairly flat course didn't hurt either.

A bit o' barbecue today with my darling wife, in-between working on a script.

A jolly 4th of July to all!

A Grand Fine Meeting

Had a wonderful pitch yesterday. I told my story of a young teen saddled with tiny but pushy alien cops and a ventriloquist dummy as he's drawn into the pursuit of an intergalactic super villain hiding out in his school. The execs. enjoyed it and laughed, but probably won't buy a script for sundry production reasons.

From a morale standpoint, the pitch was a huge lift. So much of work lately consists of writing scripts and outlines then enduring pages of exacting criticism. Or pitching material that's picked apart in the room. ( Yesterday's second pitch excepted.) It was a relief to simply tell a story that the listerners liked.

I guess it felt like the good old days of improv comedy: immediate feedback, no waiting.

We may shop my story, "Dummy Fever," to one more studio, then it's off to book outline land.

But I sure had a good time.

Pitched Out

Met with production company execs and others at a fancy restaurant to plot strategy. With back-to-back meetings at different studios, it was decided I would mostly do the talking. As it turned out, everyone chimed in, with our star/creator helping the most.

The first meeting was like pitching a funny idea to Stonehenge. The guy clearly wasn't in the mood. We left the room with advanced cases of frostbite.

The second meeting at another studio was a festive treat, with laughter and encouragement from delighted execs. We still have one more pitch on this project but it won't be for another month.

It was like spending several hours on stage. Afterwards, I felt drained. I sat in my car and slugged down a 16 oz. water.

I have one more pitch tomorrow on a live-action film idea ; a half-hour animated script to write today; plus two more animated TV projects to ready for the coming weeks so I can sell again.

I can't look at the results. The action of pitching often begats work from the most unexpected quarters.

So onward I go.

Chi Town Marathon Plans

Former TNT mates Ernesto and Nick ran 4 miles with me yesterday. Very leisurely pace. Nick's running the Portland Marathon on October 7. (Same day as Chicago.) Ernesto is thinking of joining him. Hopefully, we'll be able to meet for training runs.

As I mentioned , marathon time will be based on my results for this upcoming 5K . There's really no pressure to hammer out great splits. (The injury has mellowed me a bit.) If I don't break 4 hours in Chicago , I'll at least complete the race I shined on 30 years ago.

Big sales meetings next Tuesday and Thursday for two seperate projects. Going over the Tuesday material today. I'm fired up and wish the meeting were tomorrow morning.

And now from Spain: midgit bullfighting!

Running, TV Animation Pitches, and Leukemia

Runs are short with lots of walk breaks. I stretch and ice the tear area. I've signed up for a 5K and will test out my recovery in two weeks.

My big pitch went well. Next week is stuffed with sales meetings.

Peter, an old Animaniacs' chum, recently learned his wife has a form of leukemia. She's facing chemo and a bone marrow transplant. Send your best wishes and prayers. For updates, check out Rosina's Road Trip.

And now back to being busy me.

Return to Running

Another summer, another return to running from injury.

Ran two miles around the Rose Bowl today, walking two minutes for every minute run. I've recently walked the same distance faster, but today was more about easing back in. I'll see how my leg feels tonight and tomorrow morning.

A brace of big pitches coming up in the next two weeks: an animated TV series and a live-action film involving aliens and ventriloquism. Not a lot of those on the market today.

5K

Not a race but 5,000 visits to this here site.

There are bloggers I know who pass that milestone every few weeks.

But I prefer a select, discriminating audience.

Big Top Wisdom

Hard-earned circus lore from a hard-drinking clown, courtesy of Dutch .

Sage observations include:

"A smart lion-tamer never drinks around the big cats."

"Before a bow, always remove the sword you just swallowed."

"If you wake up behind the elephant cage on something soft, it probably isn't a pile of feathers."

Stay Classy, Team!

Chicago Marathon Training Plan

A pleasant morning for a walk around the Rose Bowl. No pain in my calf as I gradually strengthen the muscle. (Last week's brief run was too much, too soon and my calf ached for a few days.) In any case, here's my latest training plan - crafted while I should've been writing:

1. June 12: Begin EZ runs, low mileage, no speed. Gradually work up to a long run of 6 miles.

2. July 4: Run a 5K. My time will determine paces for various training runs as well as my marathon finishing time.

3. July 9: Commence training again for Chicago. I'll have 13 weeks. My training schedule will be a combination of the FIRST program - speed and tempo runs - plus Jeff Galloway walk breaks such as TNT uses on long runs.

4. Sept. 3: Run the Disneyland Half-Marathon for the important reason that I signed up for it months ago.

5. Oct. 7: Complete the Chicago Marathon for the even more important reason that I signed up for it in January, booked a hotel room, and purchased airline tickets for my fine wife and I.

They say those who don't learn from history are condemned to repeat it. I don't think that applies to sports. Or maybe it doesn't apply to me and sports. Each injury I've sustained has been chronicled in my training log. Reading back, I note all the warning signs of overtraining: soreness, lack of motivation, poor sleep. And yet I pressed on, believing that backing off would cost me valuable training time. Of course, once I received my nice new injury, the whole "backing off" position was rendered moot. I guess it'll be different next time if I wish it to be.

My weight drops gradually. I hover around the 215 mark. My goal is still to reach 195 by October. I've mostly been eating smaller portions and cutting out large, sausage & pepperoni pizzas when depressed. Or not depressed. Just don't eat the whole thing at one sitting.

Runlet

Walked around the Rose Bowl yesterday morning. A new TNT squad was running their first 3-mile assesment. They'll be training for events such as the October Long Beach Marathon.

No pain in my calf so I ran a bit on the last mile. (Very sore later on.) Encountered Coach Katie, Jimmy, and lots of Team in Training alums from my various seasons.

Also spotted actor Bruce Dern zipping along. He'd been featured recently in "Runner's World": a marathoner back before it was cool. He moved at a pretty good pace for a guy in his 70s.

Finished notes on a script and now begin work on ideas for a new animated series looking for story editors.

A pleasant Memorial Day to all.

Value Added

As I'm still not running and very busy with animation writing, as well as not having any more real murders to report, here's a brief passage from my friend's crime novel, "The Value of Nothing." (Abridged)

Boston 1979
(Loser Davey has just witnessed a bloody shoot-out between Boston PD and four radical bank robbers. [Final talley: 4- 2 in favor of the PD] A sexy, amoral bank teller who survived the carnage decides she needs to forget the day. As all the police have left and the coroners are ugly, Davey appears the most attractive nearby male.)

“Excuse me,” she said.
Davey was tongue-tied. Watching a ferocious gun fight and talking to a dream girl on the same day were overloading his circuitry.
" I don’t think I should be alone,” she hinted broadly, then added, "I've had an emotionally devastating morning."
“Are you a student?” he blurted.
“Sometimes. I work at Filenes’s. But I’m off tonight and my roommate’s away, would you mind taking me home?”
Nothing in Davey’s life had prepared him for this. He'd never, ever, expected to hear those words uttered in that sequence from a hot-looking girl. Of course he’d heard each word individually, and in various combinations, but in that order, and spoken to him, never. They went through his head like melodious gibberish. When her silence advised him it was his turn to speak, all he could do was point at the envelope in her hand.
“What's in there?”
“Nothing. Just some money from the bank. They won’t miss it. The insurance auditors will assume the robbers took it.”
You just can’t beat a practical New England girl when it comes to turning personal catastrophe into a financial windfall.

Spin Class

In a normal spin workout, you ride exercise bikes. On the bikes are knobs that control resistance. An instructor will have you vary the resistance. They pedal along with the class, wearing mikes in order to be heard over the thumping of uptempo songs that mimic your jacked-up heart rate. (Instructors make their own CDs.) In general, spin classes are fast-paced, hour-long sweatfests.

Except at my gym on Monday mornings.

This was my first time at this particular class. A fit-looking, hot instructor —let's call her "Gwen"— showed up late. Not only was Gwen time-challenged, but she was out-of-shape. It seems strange to even write that. But this chick was gassed.

Ten minutes into the workout, Gwen stopped calling resistance and started wheezing into the microphone like an asthama patient being chased by a bear. Her pedaling slowed to ceremonial and she didn't speak for the next 20 minutes. In the meantime, Gwen's playlist also slowed as if crafted with naps in mind. (Artists included workout gut-busters Gary Puckett and the Union Gap.)

At the end of class, Gwen explained it was all part of a master exercise plan. The easier workouts were to be "balanced" by later harder workouts.

Spin, indeed.

"The Value of Nothing"

does not refer to story notes from animation executives. It's the title of a hard-boiled crime novel written by my friend, the Dutchman. He's rewriting like mad and just sent me some pages. I've copied his email below:

John,

Attached find one chapter of "The Value of Nothing."
Below are pre-publication reviews:

"Like Huck Finn except without the river, Jim or that annoying kid..."
— NY Review of Books

"Like all great literature, nearly incomprehensible..."
— Joyce James, White Pages

"I read it. I shot myself."
— E. Hemingway

Cross Training

Almost two weeks since my last crazed animation deadline. I'm using the time to swim and gym while my calf heals. Also doing prose "cross training" on a short story. I've been dragging this one along for months. I would've dropped it completely but for my Thursday writer's group. I blast out three double-spaced pages every two weeks. Now I'm in the home stretch.

My story deals with a nihilistic LA dude who discovers a fantastic drug allowing him to transform into an animal. He learns not all truths are unfounded and that you surrender humanity at great peril.

Which begs the question: What seperates Man from beast? Honor and reputaion, obligation, a soul, internet porn? I think I'll finish this draft.

Then I can start clearing shelf space for my Nobel Prize.

Up From Down

Since my previous post I 've been depressed. I stuffed myself and gained seven pounds. But enough mopery. If I can't run, I can at least lose weight, thus easing trauma on joints when I do return to the the roads and trails.

My friend K sent fine, health-inducing mangos. They serve to remind me that food need not be fried, salted, or popped to be good. I'm 219 today. Dipping under 200 by October is not out of the question.

As long as I burn more than I take in.

And given my history with money, that shouldn't be difficult.

Beached Again

My Strange Bruise turns out to be a symptom: blood flowing to my ankle from a torn calf muscle. At least 4 more weeks without running. Very depressing. No Santa Barbara Wine Country Half-Marathon and a reduced chance to break 4 hours in Chicago. On the upside, I can walk, drive, and exercise either in the pool or on sundry machines. In other words, perhaps a month down, then another month getting back up to speed.

And if I don't break 4, I can at least set a new pr.
I know I'll come back stronger.

New Interesting Running Injury

No running all week. My calf and ankle swelled something fierce post-10K. Bruises blossomed around my left foot, but the only soreness was under the calf. (The muscle has a long name - gastrocniemus or some such title.)

Each day brings steady improvement. But the half-marathon looms next Sunday. As it stands, even should my foot heal, I'll have run only twice in three weeks. My goals diminish.

I've been mostly aqua running. Today I did 80 stupifying minutes. (The physical equivalent of reading the tax code.) Whether pool work will sustain me is less an issue than whether I heal enough to reach the start line.

Since I began training in March, there's been much progress in my speed. And next Sunday's race was only a mile post on the road to Chicago. Still, not attaining a sought-after goal would leave me a bit down.

But life rolls on. My wife and I bought a 2002 P.T. Cruiser. The Mrs. shall drive this in lieu of her 13-year-old Saturn. (A real workhorse of a car.) I must say, Cruiser and Mrs. seem a good match. Each exhibits personality to spare.

Murder in Pasadena

Yesterday, a body was discovered near the Rose Bowl. The deceased male lay atop a hill off Rosemont Avenue. The hill is part of a trail popular with runners. I've been up and down it many times with Team in Training.

To the west of the trail, seperated by a chain link fence, lies Brookside Country Club. Apparantly some golfers observed the body through the fence at around 7:00 AM. They called out to passing runners, asking if any of them had cell phones and could notify police. (Did the idea of not golfing and reporting the crime occur to them? One can only speculate. As I said, they were golfers.)

In any case, two walkers from Team in Training arrived shortly after, saw the body, and notified coaches Kate and Mel. Meanwhile, police arrived and sealed off the area, closing the trail. Runners and walkers were rerouted throughout the morning. Around 10:45 AM, I came down Rosemont Avenue on my way to World T'ai Chi Day. Cops, crime scene tape, badly-parked police vehicles, and Allison from Team in Training spilled off the trail. (I didn't ask Allison "whaz s'up?" 'cause there was traffic behind me.)

Later, I heard coach Kate had spoken with one of the detectives. He told her nightly drug deals take place around the Rose Bowl. That's what the murder appeared to stem from. Violence is the Court of Last Appeal — and often First Appeal — in the narcotics trade.

No idea if the killer has been caught or even identified.

Fun in the CSUN

Ran a 10K today at Cal State University Northridge. After injuring my calf running last Monday (locked up tight), I spent the week either in the pool or doing yoga to loosen up the muscle. And while it's still not 100 %, I felt strong enough to give 6.2 miles a go.

Except I didn't want to run.

I didn't want to get up, or drive to Northridge, or run once I got there. Horn sounds and the race starts. Off I go anyway. I wanted to quit at the second mile. Then I wanted to walk for long periods. Then I wanted to quit at mile 5. Yes, it was sunny and hot and the course teemed with race-etiquette challenged "Kids Run L.A." But I've been there/done that before and bounded along like a young deer. Today was different. A most unusal attack of the "quits."

Maybe 10Ks remind me too much of tempo workouts — hard, long mid-week runs at a faster-than-usual pace. They build endurance. And grumpiness.

Despite all that, I set a 10K pr of 52.56. That comes out to an 8:32 pace.

Afterwards, I drove to Brookside Park near the Rose Bowl for World Tai Chi Day. This is a yearly gathering of L.A. County T'ai Chi players and Chinese yoga practioners. Marjorie was there. We hugged good-bye again. She drives to Texas this Friday. I hung out with old chums Loren, Ed, Iren, Dave and Dede from my T'ai Chi class. Then I bought a tee-shirt and left.

Acres of writing, but it'll keep.

I don't want to do that either.

TNT, Car Buying, Paris

Bumped into Raul, Audrey and other TNT alum running the hills this morning. Ernesto and I met earlier than usual as my wife and I were due to car-shop.

We're looking at the Toyota Matrix and the Honda Civic. We checked out a fleet dealer, a used car dealer and Carmax. Very low pressure. Only the used car guy suggested we "talk with his manager." We declined citing multiple other car-buying commitments. I'm leaning toward a slightly used Civic: well-engineered and "tall-guy" friendly. But the car is for my short wife, so I may have to get used to something else.

Two folks I know ran the Paris Marathon today. You sprint past famous monuments, stop to have a smoke, race around Moslem "youths" burning cars, then pause on the banks of the Seine to read depressing literature. If you don't kill yourself, you pass a wine station, grab a paper cup of chablis, then cross the finish line where you either receive a medal or a beret full of snails.

In any case, I'll be interested in hearing their stories.

Marjorie Jackson Adieu

Monday nights are busy. I have several long-standing commitments that absorb the evening. Nevertheless, yesterday I made time to drive to a small park in Burbank and bid farewell to my T'ai Chi teacher.

I've known Marjorie for almost ten years. First intermittently, then steadily I attended her classes in T'ai Chi and yoga. Marjorie taught in parks from the San Gabriel Valley to Northridge. She flew from one gig to another. The rear compartment of her little blue Toyota SUV was crammed with registers and sign-up sheets, flyers for martial arts events, T'ai Chi swords and knives plus a CD player that gave every class a New Age underscore: Inca flutes, harps or Tibetean bowls with a crashing surf background.

For awhile, I was underemployed and immersed myself in T'ai Chi and yoga. On Thursdays in 2001 and 2002, I took Marjorie's morning yoga class at Victory Park in Pasadena. Afterwards, I'd student teach her T'ai Chi beginners, then attend the advanced class that followed. As a reward for helping out, Marjorie would show me next-level moves and correct my form. By the time I left around noon, I was floating on endorphins. Calm. Almost too calm. I never got much of anything done on Thursdays.

Chakras, auras, and past lives were a part of Marjorie's beliefs. She would laugh and call it "wo-wo" stuff. And if you were so inclinded, Majorie would teach "wo-wo" (as well as yoga) out of her rented home. Four years ago Marjorie and her beau bought a small house in Pasadena. Wind chimes and Buddhist prayer flags decorated the front porch while incense flotated through the house like spirits. A student painted a cloudy, blue sky on her ceiling so that while doing yoga, you could look up and see something other than ceiling.

That house is in escrow, the cloudy ceiling painted over. And by the end of the month, Marjorie and her beau will be in Texas. After 31 years in Southern California, Marjorie will teach T'ai Chi and yoga as well as quality "wo-wo" to the residents of Austin.

I didn't ask why she was leaving. I guess that's because I always sensed she would. Marjorie says we each have our destinies. Mine now lies in marathons and hers in Austin. But for a time, we walked the same path.

A teacher is someone who shows you a door that only you can open. And for showing me the T'ai Chi door, I want to thank Marjorie and wish her a safe journey, a rewarding life, and, in time, a destiny fulfilled.

Happy Easter!

Away to visit my darling wife's family somewhere in Central California. We'll be having Easter dinner by the sea. Back soon!

Damp

A misty moist morning with a temperature around 58 degrees. Rather perfect weather for running 10 miles. Ernesto added a new injury this week: a stiff back from weight lifting. Nevertheless, he put in eight miles.

I ran for a bit with a 59-year-old-guy who did the Chicago Marathon last year. He'd qualified for Boston, which meant a time of at least 3 hours and 45 minutes. Certain sports have their Meccas, that place where the amateur athelete can strive to reach and where, having arrived, are entitled to feel special, even smug, (but not too smug or someone will slap them). For distance runners, Boston is such a destination. You must complete a qualifying marathon just to get in. I hope to reach there within the next two years.

Perhaps there is also a Mecca for curling. Why shouldn't there be? Let a curler's reach exceed his grasp, broom and all.

Spring Fall

In honor of last year's big fat injury, I took my spring tumble on Monday. Melissa and I were running a good pace on trails when I hit a rock. This time my palms absorbed most of the impact. A bit bloody, I walked for awhile then we finished the run.

Turned out to be our fastest time yet.

Come Saturday a year will have passed since my broken foot. I was so bummed to miss the San Diego Marathon. That's why Phoenix still resonates. Down, but up again. Somewhat in keeping with the season.




A blessed Good Friday to those awaiting Easter.

Eight Miles and No Writing Gas

Met Ernesto at the Rose Bowl. His hamstring continues to heal slowly while my half-marathon rapidly approaches. So we ran different paces and distances and met back at the start line. During my run I encountered Faith and Sarah, former Fall '05 teammates with Ernesto and I.

The hills swarm with TNT alumni.

And now more writing. The script I'm working on is due Sunday, postphoned from Friday when I ran out of gas. Knowing my draft will be picked apart by fussy executives saps all initiative. I look for ways to avoid writing. Hence, this post.

However this morning I was bummed about my running and felt weak and slow. I psyched myself up mentally, then went out and performed well.

I may have to do something similar to get up for this script. Perhaps a cheer?



Space bar, space bar,
Fast and funny,
Finish this script,
And pocket the money.

Don't you care,
What they think.
They're executives,
Silly with drink.