Deadline Fatigue

Mentally sapped. Since Sunday I've written 36 pages on two animated scripts and a short story. Prose fiction averages about an hour a page. Animated stuff I can usually do much faster. In any case, I haven't been sleeping well and that's affected my running. Tried to do a five-mile tempo run yesterday and simply gave up after mile three. I went home, ate dinner, wished my wife well as she sped out to her writers' group, and crashed early, drool rolling down my chin like a great torrent.

My training schedule for the half-marathon unravels more each week. But I'll press on and adjust as necessary. My goal is Chicago in October and I still have time.

And a tidy income once all my invoices are paid.

Then more sleep.

Meeting Mr. Sulu

This morning, Nick and Ernesto joined me for a race in Griffith Park. (In 1995, I did a 5K there. That turned out to be my last 5K for eleven years.) Small field, very informal. I finished in 25:18. That's an 8:09 pace. Not what I wanted but slightly better than my 1995 time. And I smoked back then. I wonder how my running career might've gone if I'd eased off the Kents sooner.

Today George Takei was Master of Ceremonies. A nice guy, he sat at a table and signed autographs for free. (Many celebs charge.) Naturally we lined up. Nick just turned 30. He had never seen Star Trek and that included the original series as well as the movies. He knew George Takei from the Howard Stern Show. Ernesto knew about George and Star Trek but dug him on Howard Stern. I overheard a teacher say her students only knew George as Kaito Nakamura on Heroes.

Well, he'll always be Mr. Sulu to me. I asked him to please sign my picture: "Live Long and Perspire." He laughed and did so, asking me about running. George finished up and I thanked him. As I left he told me to "live long and perspire."

God willing, I shall, and the same to you, Mr. Sulu.

Thoughts on 300

My wife and I just returned from seeing 300. Based on a graphic novel, the movie featured enough stabbing and beheading to make Braveheart look like Remains of the Day. A handful of six-pack-abbed Spartans stands against the hordes of a giant, fruity Xerxes. The historical Xerxes was something of a logistical wiz. He moved a massive army from Asia to Greece across a boat bridge and pre-positioned supplies in their path. Subsequent armies well into the 20th century floundered on the march far worse than the Persian troops. What's more, Xerxes practiced early disinformation by bribing the Oracle at Delphi to put a negative spin on Greek war prophecies.

A few years back, author Steven Pressfield covered the same material in his book, Gates of Fire. The story of Leonidas and his Spartans was told through the character of a Spartan servant, found gravely wounded at Thermopylae, who relates the tale to his Persian captors. Gates covers the culture and politics of Sparta as well as other city states, divided on whether to resist Xerxes. Pressfield's descriptions of the Greek phalanx, or shield wall, are particularly riviting. (Essentially a big shoving match with spears.)

A few large historical liberties, but overall 300 was a fun film.

Did I mention lots of stabbing, rending, and slashing?

Erin Go Bragh

And a Happy St. Patrick's Day! God bless all, especially my dear Irish family, living and dead.

Truncated running with Ernesto today. His hamstring ached from playing basketball and he bailed at the mile mark. I only ran three today because my calves hurt from overtraining. I juggled running days around this week because of work and ended up piling on mileage as well as speed. A proven road to injury. No one sets a personal best who doesn't first reach the start line.

Work continues intensely. Scripts and development. One show I'm writing is rather difficult. My scripts draw lengthy executive notes implying I can't write. Solving creative problems becomes a true test of patience and a clear sign that I need money. But I'm almost done.

And better projects await.

A parting St. Paddy's day joke:

Q: What is Irish alzheimers?

A: That's where you forget everything but the resentments.

Red Hot Running

Met Ernesto yesterday for a six-mile run. We spent the first mile dodging triathalon bikers as they sprinted around the Rose Bowl.

We passed friendly TNT faces as the Summer Team notched their first ten-mile run. There was a "double digit" barbecue afterwards and we exercised alumni priviledges by scarfing their chow.

Went out this morning for an eight-mile clip and passed Melissa and Naveena breezing along on their own long run. Hot, dry weather dehydrated me by mile 3. As in Hawaii, my brain screamed "quit," even though I wasn't running particularly fast or far.

I did what any self-respecting runner would do: I lied to my own brain. I said water aplenty waited at the finish. The brain bought it and I ran my scheduled pace the rest of the way. Just to show I'm a nice guy, I delivered and slugged down a 16-ounce Aquafina.

Another 14 pages of animation the last few days. They say strike while the iron is hot. But this stinking iron is volcanic!

Fine Whine

Still underwater with all the writing. Fatigued now. I'll stop and lie down for a few hours than back at it. I just turned in another short script (20 pages) and am waiting for the next assignment.

The L.A. Marathon was Sunday. Congrats to the Spring TNTers, especially Raul who broke 4 hours.

On Monday I commence training for my own sub four-hour marathon in Chicago this fall. Phase One will last 9 weeks and end with pring a half-marathon. To that end, Coach Katie has proscribed track workouts. Coach Melissa has taught me plyometrics to improve speed and ladders to increase foot turn-over and quickness. In addition, she's been running with me on Mondays as I add another running day to my week. After resting up, Phase Two will begin in June. I'm not sure what it'll be. But I bet there's lots of running.


And now back to what I do best.

51 and Counting

In eight days I've written 51 pages of animated television. One half-hour and one short for different shows. I still have a five-page outline due by Wednesday morning.

I'm a bit tired.

But fat with invoices.

Guest and Shyamalan Reviewed

Back in the 90s when the Oscars aired on week nights, Warner Bros. would let us go home early to watch. Now they're on Sunday nights and I'm already home. Nevertheless, I think I'll pass. I haven't seen any of this year's big films. Other than "Casino Royale," I haven't been to the movies in months.

That said, you can tell when I have a ton of actual writing to do. I seek ways to avoid it. I shall now demonstrate by reviewing two movies my wife and I rented this weekend.


"For Your Consideration" was Christopher Guest's spoof of award-mania. Departing from the mockumentary style of "Guffman" and "Mighty Wind," this movie employed a conventional narrative. The film portrays hapless actors in an independent film called "Home For Purim" who believe they will be nominated for Academy Awards. Dramatic tension is thin at best. The characters are self-absorbed and shallow. Then they get nominated. Then they are self-absorbed and shallow.

That said, there are laughs o'plenty. The dialogue is improvised and carries a wonderful sense of expectation and surprise. A Guest film that doesn't rock on all levels still has enough fun, quirky mometns to make it worthwhile.

We also watched M. Night Shyamalan's "Lady in the Water." The film presents us with a fantasy world intruding on a Philadelphia apartment building. The building super (Paul Giamatta) discovers a water nymph living in the pool. He elects to help the nymph achieve her mission and return home. To do this he must outwit a fierce creature determined to slay her. A man broken by his past, the super engages other tenants to help. In so doing he begins to rediscover himself. I liked the personal redemption aspect but found the fantasy overwhelming. There were so many story points. In order to service them all, the tenants must buy outright the super's tale of a nymph, her wolf-like enemy, and their own pre-destined roles. Despite Giamatta's fine acting, the film wears down, becoming a logic puzzle that keeps the viewer at arm's length.

And that's that. Now back to real work.

Purple and White Blues

Ran eight miles yesterday. My long run pace feels too fast. My run/walk ratio is too low. I ran slower than my final eight-mile run before Phoenix. But I have months to increase pace.

But will I have the motivation?

I hadn't realized how much Team in Training changed me. Other than a vague goal of running a marathon "one day" I never had any destinations. Now I've set prs in the 10K, half-marathon, and marathon. I want to break four hours in Chicago, then qualify for Boston. I'm a man fat with goals.

But it's harder on your own.

Heading toward the last mile I topped a small hill and found myself engulfed by Team in Training. Both Spring and Summer teams had started their runs at the same time. They filled the street and for a few seconds I was surrounded by purple and white jerseys. I spotted familiar faces, but with the sun to my back only a few recognized me. Then they were gone. As I reached the final mile marker, I was running solo again.

At the finish line, I bumped into former team mates Ryan, Jay and Michelle. They're back with TNT, training for the Wildflower Triathalon in May. We chatted, but they had planned a 20-mile bike ride and needed to wheel.

I stretched out, then walked to my car, forgetting my brand new water bottle with the neat padded, hand strap and a compartment for key and cell phone. A wino may have it now.

Gains and losses.

Dale and Cancer

In early January, my friend Dale was diagnosed with Stage 4 colon cancer. Stage 4 means you're on the adios track. I saw him in the hospital just before I left for Phoenix. Dale was in shock. (Or as much shock as possible while basted with morphine and Dilautin.) Suddenly all the mad scrambling for money seemed pointless. He only wanted more time with his wife and kids.

And he got it.

The doctors operated twice and removed a huge tumor from his colon. No chemo necessary. Off you go. But Dale did get a colostomy bag for the next seven months. (He told me you have to spray the inside with Pam so that poop doesn't clot the opening. There are other elements involved that don't need mentioning.)

All things considered, he thought the colostomy a fair trade. Cancer had picked up his life and tossed it off a bridge. As he reassembled the pieces, Dale found himself reordering everything: priorities, diet, attitude.

I pray his cancer doesn't return. (My cousin Mary Ann faces her third go-around with liver cancer in four years.)

But often there is hidden good in the most turbulent events.

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