Veterans Day Thanks!

A shout-out to the men and women of our armed forces. Stay as safe as you can doing the work you do. God bless.

Happy 233!

Captain Sam Nicholas founded the USMC at Tun Tavern in Philadelphia, Nov. 10, 1775. On we go into our third century. Semper Fi!

Team in Traction

Unexpected warm weather and long distances combined to make today an injury-riddled practice. One mild case of heat exhaustion and three knee injuries had the coaches earning their pay. (Or in the case of assistant coaches Alfredo and I, our symbolic, volunteer pay.) Honolulu runners and walkers put in 18 miles, while Phoenix marathoners logged 16. I walked briskly here and there for a total of 9.7 miles. No knee pain. I think I'll try walking the Pasadena Half-Marathon next Sunday. Won't that be fun? I think so.

At the Mountains of Demographic Madness

Overlooked in the election post-mortem lay an interesting demographic. In addition to winning most categories and income levels, president-elect Obama sewed up votes from all the Great Old Ones.

This race of telepathic, star-born beings almost sat out the election behind their dimensional portals. However a federal judge in Arkham, Massachusetts, who had just ruled that a homeless man could list a park bench as his residence, declared that any dimension opening over U.S. soil clearly could be considered "home" for voting purposes. Obama campaign lawyers, armed with copies of the eerie Necronomicon, immediately spread out across New England.

In cities such as Innsmouth and Dunwich, the attornies bellowed out a series of brain-bending spells that ended with them slaying kidnapped women and shrieking, "Ia, Ia, Barack fhtagn!!" The spells successfully released colossol monstrosities Yog-Sothoth, Dagon, Azathoth, Nyarlathotep, and Cthulhu. The lawyers issued them provisional ballots and a Democratic party voting guide before they were devoured, screaming in madness.

Later, two brave professors from Arkham University shut the dimensional doors, returning the Great Old Ones to various eldritch lairs. But not before they had voted and been questioned by pollsters as to why they broke for Barack.

Dagon felt that Obama's environmental plans would better protect his watery city, deep beneath the reef off Innsmouth.

Yog-Sothoth could not point to any one thing, but hoped Obama's radical change meant that he intended to topple cities and wash himself in the blood of the terrified inhabitants.

Cthulhu liked that Matt Damon was voting for Barack.

Afterwards, the pollsters were devoured, screaming in madness.

Dark Horse via The Onion

Voting Machines Elect One Of Their Own As President

Arcane News

Congratulations to president-elect Obama.

Conspiracy theorists point out that "Obama" spelled backwards is "Amabo."

They go on to reveal that Amabo is the name of:

A. A swank eatery mentioned in the Kabbalah.

B. An old Star Trek villain.

C. A nickname for a guy called Amab.

D. A Zulu word for warthog pellets.

E. Too cryptic for you to understand; too intricate to explain; but I get it!

Smattering

Of rain and TNT runners yesterday. Most of the Team ran or cheered up at the Santa Barbara Half Marathon while a few kept a practice going at the Rose Bowl. Despite lightning, swirling winds, and a brief but heavy rain, a handful of runners and walkers finished 12 miles. I walked the last 3.1 with Larry. It was the longest I've been on my feet since early September. A stiff back and a few knee twinges, but otherwise Okay.

Next week I'll try walking a few days and see what consistent use brings to Recovery Fest '08.

Pumpkinhead

On this most spooky of days, a tribute to composer  Richard Stone.

Seasonal Ode

A few minutes commemorating All Hallow's Eve.

Vote!

These people will tell you why.

Gibbon Activist Slain!

Write Enough has obtained information suppressed by the L.A. Times. Undisclosed sources report the Times has possession of a video tape showing the murder of gibbon activist Ingrid Bunt. An outspoken defender of lessor apes, Bunt believed they were as intelligent as humans and superior to teenage males and members of congress. In 2003, her body was found on Monkey Island at the Tucson Zoo. Police believed Bunt was murdered while attempting to register gibbons to vote.

Long thought to have been slain by nomad bums, Bunt was killed by gibbons. According to sources, the footage shows Bunt holding out a form to a gibbon while she pantomimes signing. The gibbon distracts her with cute, touching gestures that indicate understanding. Meanwhile, a second gibbon creeps up behind Bunt and riddles her with a Glock .40 caliber. Tossing the pistol into the moat, the gibbons emptied Bunt's purse, ignoring credit cards but keeping a compact mirror and a package of mints. Later, footage showed one gibbon using the mirror to direct sunlight into the eyes of a mountain goat. The second gibbon traded the mints to a female in exchange for sex and flea removal.

What is the Times afraid of? Release the tape today or be branded "monkey pawn." Of course, nowhere in all this do we learn of any gibbon remorse. To this day, they loll about their island, well-fed, waiting, waiting, waiting.

TNT '08 Plus Ape Notes

That how it felt yesterday at practice. We start the walkers off an hour earlier, separating them from the runners. And with injuries and no-shows it seems we have fewer runners than ever. I believe the Pasadena Marathon hurt TNT's recruiting this season. Why sign up for a race in Honolulu or Phoenix when you have one right in your own backyard? Plus there's no fund raising to sweat.
For over six weeks, injuries have prevented me from running with the team, which is where you really get to know people. I'm feeling TNT disconnect.

Slow healing on the knee doesn't help my mental state. I was prepared to be healthy again a week ago. Alas, my body didn't get the email.

Still there's plenty I can do and I'll focus on that, both for coaching and my own training.

On an unrelated note, do monkeys hate us? I think they do. If humanity weren't so fragmented and self-absorbed, we'd take care of them now before they obtain legal status and file crippling law suits.

Let's stop ape perfidy in its hand-like footprints.

Chi Running Class

Last Sunday I gave chi running a try. This system uses gravity and the strong muscles of the psoas to propel you forward rather than relying solely on quads and calves. Next day, I went out for a run but only made it a mile and a half before my knee grew sore. I backed off and walked, but it appears more cross-training lies in my future.

Joe Lahey Graces Freakazoid Season 2 Taping

Joe Lahey joined us last Thursday for the Freakazoid Season 2 taping. Good to see our favorite announcer again. Paul Rugg, Rich Arons, Tom Ruegger and myself recalled various moments from "the day."

Alas, no Barone's pizza, but we muddled through. I'm not sure what the release date is, but I'll say so when I do.

Value Added

Tomorrow we tape a few things for the Freakazoid Season 2 DVD. Nothing fancy, but it should be fun. This will probably be the last official act involving the Guy with Lightning in his Hair. A different TV animation world exists, built upon different rules.

But thanks to the Internet, one need never say "farewell," just "see you later forever and anon. "

Fall and TNT

Chilly this morning, with a bit of a cool wind. Felt like autumn for the first time. Today at practice, some ran 14 miles, others 12 and 10. Just after 6:00 this morning, I dropped into my health club, swam with the kickboard and aqua ran. Felt some pain in the tendons behind my left knee, so I stopped early. At practice, I mostly stood around the aid station, snacking.

Former teammate Dave ran past. He survived prostate cancer surgery this summer and is back running strong.

Another friend, Don, narrowly survived the same cancer in January 2007. He emerged from treatment strong with a commitment to lead a healthier life and concentrate on the important things namely his family.

Last week, Don was diagnosed with lymphoma. Growing in inoperable places, the cancer will require aggressive chemo. Even with that, Don's been given two years.

Stock markets rise and fall, and the life I have seems more precious all the time.

Freak Season 2 DVD

We're set to tape next Thursday. No DVD commentary this time, but various other fun things are planned. Alas, no Jonathan Harris. He would've been great.

Head Down

No posting lately because I'm blasting away on a long-delayed, original sitcom for my agent, a graphic novel outline — completed — and the book project from last year. End of December is my deadline.

My knee feels much better. I'm signed up for a chi running workshop in two weeks.

As the markets tumble and housing prices drop, I find myself relieved we sold our home when we did. As for the markets, I cashed out most of my inflated mutual funds over the last three years to make ends meet. They didn't. But being broke has its merits — you certainly don't worry about investments.

TNT '08 5k plus Chi Running

Winter Team traveled to Uplands this morning for the Megan's Run 5K. With my knee diagnosis still in medical limbo, I cheered on the troops. Mile one led impressively up in the direction of Mount Baldy. And while it didn't go that far, it certainly seemed to. A good downhill after that with the finish line on a gradual incline; not an especially speedy course. Congrats to teammates Chris, Dierk, Coach Pete, John A., musical John, Stacy and Ginnie who all won age group medals.

Lately, I've been reading up on chi running. Combining t'ai chi relaxation techniques and alignment with running, the style claims less injuries and less effort than conventional locomotion that relies on muscle strength. Given my foot strike issues — Mr. Heavy Heel — I'm willing to grant them a shot once I'm cleared to run again.

Much writing lately. Fun writing, good writing; writing that I enjoy. These three projects I'm working on have been in limbo since the move. Nothing like an injury to boost output. More soon.

Another Opinion

Today I learned several things.

One: my HMO doctor is extremely busy and unfocused. He said my x-rays hadn't arrived today. As it turned out, they were in the office and he'd initialed the report.

Two: The x-rays revealed no stress fracture. Busy Doc thinks its tendonitis. Learned Doc Smith thinks it may be a stress fracture.

Three: You can't have too many doctors. So it's back to my old chiro for his take while I decide where I'm gonna find a new primary care physician.

Four: I put on three pounds last week. If I'm not running 30-mile weeks, I can't eat 30-mile week meals.

Five: There is no five.

TNT '08 Practice 6 and 7

Last Saturday I was in the pool, then I attended a TNT information meeting at a local library. No one showed up for information.

This Saturday I was in the pool, aqua running once again. I shared a lane with two sisters from the fall team. In the adjacent lane, a passive-aggressive old man did odd things. Apparently, he felt the sisters had chased him out of his favorite lane. (The sisters said he gave them the lane, then wanted it back.) In any case, Pops treded water, staring at us and loudly singing songs from the 1940s. ("Mairzy Dotes and Dozy Dotes," etc.) In addition, he would cough deeply and make complicated snorting sounds as if preparing to hack up a sofa. Eventually, I got out, the sisters moved to another lane, and Pops bobbed around, being an aquatic hemorrhoid.

Afterwards, I visited the Winter Team aid station on a dam north of the Rose Bowl. Beautiful day for running. Or, in my case, watching people run. Later, we barbecued and listened to inspiring talks from leukemia sufferers and/or relatives of same, thanking Team in Training for the money they raised and the good it does.

All of which more than made up for Mairzy Dotes.

My Work Life Stagnates

What stinks after three days? (Guests and fish.)  Plus my animation career. Waiting at the X-ray factory today for knee imaging, I flipped through my day runner. One job interview back in April. That's it for 2008.

Granted the industry has been in flux (as have I), but I can't recall a year where there's been so few opportunities. Alas, much of the problem resides within.

I'm terrible at networking. Meet-and-greet events leave me cold. Staying in touch with old co-workers (who have worked steadily over the years) has been sporadic. Market awareness eats. I have no idea what's hot in TV animation right now. Stay current? I'd rather watch The History Channel. And if there's a new animated film out, I'll wait for Netflix.

When I do get an opportunity to pitch a show, I tend to hold back. This is bad habit I've developed to deal with rejection. (If I don't try 100 percent, my work is never 100 percent rejected — and by extension, me.) Marathon running has done a good job of eroding this flaw, since time goals require total commitment.

Work ethic is strong, but lacks focus. Weeks and months pass whenever I develop a show. Then I pitch it around and eat several heaping bowls of "no thanks." Concept crash; big let-down. I often recharge by working on book outlines or screenplay treatments. (New, unsullied ideas always have the greater appeal.) I allow them to fill up time instead of getting back to animation. If I want another staff gig, I have to make that important.

Because the Warner's job arrived unexpectedly back in 1991, I expect something similar to pop up again. It could, though I wouldn't hang from a hook waiting. Alas, active participation in my career is mandatory.

It's so much easier to blame other people. I think I'll keep doing that for another few days.

Two Systems

Didn't make it to the pool on Sunday; did make it to the doctor's on Monday. There's a huge difference between the health care I got working union jobs and the HMO I'm stuck with today. Back when I broke my foot I got an appointment the same day, examination and X-rays, referral to the bone doc and a cast on my foot all in a couple of hours.

HM-SLOW made me wait a week for an exam in which I learned everything Doc Smith told me seven days ago. Now I'm waiting for an X-ray to be scheduled at a separate location, after which I'll see the HMO doc again next Monday.

The records clerk asked me for an address to my previous health care facility. I said I didn't have it, however she could Google the name and up it would pop. Back shot this bitter remark about how now she'd have to find the address on her own time. It didn't make sense, but it did convey resentment at having to Google something. Nevertheless, I bid the clerk a sunny good-day and left her the tedious, all-consuming task of typing a name into a search engine; clearly work outside the bounds of record keeping, a job where poet-philosophers gather to practice free verse and pen heroic epics on the scale of Gilgamesh.

Stay healthy.

Aqua Running

Aqua running this morning before practice. Even in the water I had to ease up on the knee. (This is gonna take awhile to heal.) Tomorrow should've been my first 20-mile run. Technically, I'm supposed to aqua run for as long as I'd be running were my leg not screwed up. That said, I'll be plowing through the chlorine on Sunday for 3 hours, 19 minutes and 20 seconds.

Alone with my thoughts while the skin shrivels up.

Random Thoughts: 9/11

K called from Florida, "Planes crashed into the World Trade Center and one of the towers just fell." Unemployed and half asleep at 7:30 AM, I shuffled downstairs to the TV, past MDW as she prepared for work. At first, all I saw was a dirty cloud obscuring southern Manhattan. Then a stunned announcer said the second tower had just collapsed. MDW joined me, work forgotten as we learned of the attack.

Other friends phoned throughout the day. Paul Rugg speculated about the pilots of the doomed aircraft, certain they weren't Americans forced to crash. TJ, a Vietnam vet, was incensed at the footage of jubilant Palestinians with their candy and AK-47s. He wished he could surprise them with a nice buttering of napalm. In a grim mood, I agreed.

Watching TV and power-chewing Nicorette, I mostly felt numb — except when the subject was jumpers. Then I felt horror. Go to work, sip coffee, joke with your pals, then decide whether you'll suffocate, burn alive, or leap a quarter mile to certain death. Questions of etiquette arise: jump solo or hold hands with a co-worker? Perhaps several of you link arms and form a chain, finding courage in numbers. Or do you clutch a table cloth and step into the air, desperately hoping it slows your fall?



The journey takes ten seconds.


Air velocity rips away your shoes.


You explode on impact.


I will always be haunted by the jumpers of 9/11.


Oceans of paper were blasted from the towers, filling the New York sky like the Devil's ticker tape. Invoices and wedding invitations floated down to gray sidewalks.

My friend Cathy, who worked in D.C., reported chaos as the government sent everyone home at once following the Pentagon attack. One jammed intersection turned scary as a man leaped out of an SUV brandishing a pistol and attempting to direct traffic.

Being murdered is not a heroic act, though it can be. Flight 93 passengers fought back and died, saving many more in their sacrifice. North Tower Port Authority employees rescued over 70 people before perishing.


There were many heroes that day.

MDW tried to give blood, but the hospital was overwhelmed with donations and refused.

Vulnerability, grief, dismay, anger.

Such a beautiful morning with a sky so blue.

(Photos from: Little Green Footballs.)

Challenge Accepted

Talked to Coach Pete today who handles aqua running for our Team. He'll keep me healthy in the pool until I can run again. No Boston qualifying for now, but I can still complete Sacramento. It'll be interesting to see what sort of time I'll muster. I've been cleared for aqua running, ellipticals, and, perhaps, the recumbent cycle. In addition, I'll keep up core work and watch my diet.

But most of all, I need to set an example for injured teammates. If I can cross-train, stay upbeat, and keep the goal in sight, so can they.

Instead of a quasi-amusing tag line such as "but first, a nap," or "I'll start after dinner," or something equally wit-deprived, I'll share what just happened in the street outside my condo.

A woman rammed her car into a bicycle-riding teenager. She was heading into our garage, and turned as this kid sailed across the driveway. Screech! Honk! Boom! Other than a cut, the teen appeared undamaged. Freaked out, the woman offered to clean him up, take care of him, do anything, but the teen refused. Eventually, she gave him her phone number and made him promise to call when he got home. As the women left, the teen found himself the center-of-attention for a couple of bystanders. He retold the story with disdain ("Ahhhh, it was nothing.") than split.

And that was that. Events unfolded, then blended into other events, en route to becoming the past.

Like now.

Numbers

(Please read if you desire to be sleepy.)

Figure about six weeks before I run again. And those runs will be light and easy and on level ground — which I must locate.

From Jan. 1 to Sept. 7, 2008 I ran 888.4 miles. That tops my previous high mileage year, 1986, when I ran 768 miles in a comparable period.

Eugene saw me lower my marathon pace from 9:59 to 9:10. A successful CIM would've seen me drop pace an additional 35 seconds to 8:35. That's a hefty chunk o' time to lop off a marathon in one year.

After I achieve a goal, the next one always seems so doable. Determined to better my 2005 marathon, I got injured and struggled 13 months to beat my old time.

Injured again in 2007, it took me 16 months to set a new pr in Eugene. (Though I did run a marathon in between.)

In May, I'd already set my next goal. But now, as before, I've built upon my running injury resume.

There's an injury clinic for coaches next week at Doc Smith's place.

I've been asked to model.

No Running for Now

Either a bone bruise or a stress fracture on the left knee, according to the learned Dr. Smith. Now begins a tussle with my HMO to obtain an MRI. Visit a doctor, have him recommend the treatment, pray a health accountant Okays everything, get an appointment, then get an MRI so I may learn whether it's a bone bruise or a stress fracture.

Meanwhile, no running; light walking.

A contributing factor may have been my running gait: landing on the heel, feet too far forward.

From past experience, the greatest challenge now facing me will be to avoid putting on 20 pounds.

Knee Pain Spoils 18.8 Mile Run

Well, I didn't get up early. But I did water up Friday and Saturday. I needed every drop as the heat was something special. Around mile two of 18.8 I felt a sharp pain in my left knee. Nothing much has ever happened with that joint so I was mildly concerned. But since it quickly faded, I kept running.

Finished the first nine miles three minutes behind pace. But the heat really zapped me. I thought of quitting, but instead walked the .8 to my car, loaded up on water and Cytomax energy drink. Resolving to simply finish, I turned off my chrono, dialed down my run/walks from 7:1 to 3:1 and set out at an easy pace.

Running in the heat was uncomfortable and I walked long stretches. But I began the last four miles in fairly good spirits. Suddenly the left knee pain returned. Eager to finish, I'd walk, limping the first few steps, wait for the pain to pass, then run again. But concern over making matters worse finally led me to walk the last mile and a half.

So off to the running doc, Dr. Smith, tomorrow. There's a part of me that hopes my injury is bad enough to squash the CIM run. Mentally, I've been drifting toward the same mindset I displayed before Chicago. I think I've got only so many hot running days in me. Once I use them up, I'm barren for the remainder of summer and fall.

More on the knee soon.

TNT Practice Five

Eight miles today. I woke up late and arrived at practice just in time to miss our campaign manager chewing out the staff for being late. As the Team run north into the hills, I was amazed how crowded the trails have become with Pasadena Marathon trainees. Lots of ice bags at the finish line. Last season, the eight-mile run saw the same thing: people hurt from running faster than their pace — except for Coach Alfredo, who twisted his ankle on a rock. Overall, 'twas another hot day and I'm happy to be finished.

Eighteen miles tomorrow. I'm gonna arise early, for once, and hit the trails before 7:30 AM. I need to upgrade my mental game, as I find myself fighting "the quits." A fair number of folk know my goal. Several have expressed interest in actually traveling to Sacramento to cheer me on. Shooting for a Boston qualifier, I'm feeling anxiety I didn't feel for Eugene.

But it can be done. It will be done. I'll do it.

Tomorrow.

Today I'll eat Doritos and watch football.

The Many Shows That Never Were

One thing about moving: you do inventory your possessions. Still emptying boxes from May, I've found a collection of TV show ideas that never flew. From Lobo to the star-crossed Daffy Duck Show to one of my favorites, Team I.E., these animated offerings foundered at different stages. Most were my solo original ideas, pitched and passed on; others were developed with artists such as Scott Jeralds; several were commissioned by various studios before being euthanized.

In any case, I'll post on a few over the coming months. Some probably shouldn't have been made, while others flashed glimmers of potential.

New animation ideas remain in the 'fridge as I rush to finish a graphic novel outline, an original sit-com, and five chapters from a young adult novel.

Run Down

While pleased with my long runs, tempo workouts have been kicking my rear with big steel boots. I need to be running around 8:00 min. miles and haven't been close in weeks. Late afternoon heat is a factor, but mostly its been lack of focus. I need to arise early, run what I can sustain for four miles, stay at that distance until I reach 8:00, then add mileage. The race-day clock is ticking, but it can be done.

Kiley Runs Up Mt. Baldy

Congrats to TNT Fall Coach Kiley for tackling the Mt. Baldy Run To the Top. Starting in the Angeles National Forest at 6,000 feet, this eight-mile race gains 4K worth of altitude, finishing atop 10,023-foot Mount Baldy. Third highest mountain in Southern California, MDW and I have hiked up there and found the trail tough enough without race pressure. (We could've used some pressure as we missed the last ski lift down to the parking lot and had to hike the additional miles. Dusk fell and we hustled along in the fading light, not wanting to wander downslope in the dark. We just made it.)

In any event, props to Kiley. If I wore a large enough hat, I'd tip it in his direction, then lend it to the mountain for modesty's sake.

Six Miles for TNT, 16.8 for my Boston Qualifier

Team in Training practice four: first six miler for the team yesterday. Small turnout due to the holiday weekend. There is a very steep hill past the two-mile mark that our Team negotiated for the first of many pleasant times. Cloud cover held for most of the run, but it was muggy and warm. For awhile, I was awash in TNT alumni as Blanche, Anna, Nick, Ernesto, Katie, FJ and Raul all ran past at various speeds. Most are training for November's Pasadena Marathon.

This morning I ran 16.8 miles. As before, I woke up late (7:00 AM), and didn't get started until after 8:00. Luckily, I watered up all day Saturday. Temperature rose to 86 degrees plus humidity. I did well on the Pasadena Pacer eight-mile route — finishing two minutes ahead of pace. I then transitioned to the Team in Training eight-mile route which felt tougher, even though the Pacer grades are longer and steeper as they rise steadily out of the Arroyo and into the Flintridge Hills. It may have to do with my legs tiring as I enter a second uphill/downhill cycle, coupled with the rising mercury.

In any case, I finished in 2:41, hitting my 9:35 pace right on the nose.

My August total was 130.5 miles. I'll be needing new shoes for the race.

And maybe somewhere to run that's cool and flat for a change.

Review of Freakazoid DVD

Second-season DVD interviews are back on track, with shooting slated for sometime in October. Meanwhile, here's a review of the first DVD from "The Stuff We Like."

Coaches Mugging It Up

Coach Dave and I instruct new runners in proper finish line form. No matter how tired you are, play it up big for the cameras.

Practice Three Plus Me

A child's run yesterday for the Winter Team — 3.1 miles. Coach Alfredo and I again were assigned pace assessments. Four new members were sent on their way, walking and running around the Rose Bowl. Meanwhile, the fall team held a half-marathon for the rest of Greater L.A. Team in Training plus alumni. Big honking turn-out! Raul, FJ, Coach Katie, Sean and numerous other running chums sped by as I searched for our new guys amid the press of Rose Bowl exercise traffic. All were found and received official times plus a valuable TNT water bottle.

My own step-back week began today with 12 miles. I ran a Pasadena Pacer six-mile, out-and-back course. Begin at the Rose Bowl Aquatic Center, run up Salvia Canon to Linda Vista then up some more into the Flintridge Hills. Continue along rolling streets to Fairlawn Ave. (across from Desconso Gardens), then back. The course resembles the letter "M" with a steep uphill, down, up, down. Finished a bit ahead of schedule, drenched in sweat. Stretched out under California Oaks, humming with yellow jackets.

Now I'll ice something or the other.

Aw, Nut Bunnies!

Some uninspired running by the U.S. Dathan Ritzenheim and Ryan Hall finished 9 and 10 in the Olympic Marathon. The Africans started hot, on a 2:05 pace. (Samuel Wanjiru, the winning Kenyan, broke a 24-year Olympic marathon record by three minutes.) Hall, Ritzenheim and teammate Brian Sell hung back, then hung back further, then crept up a little, then crossed the finish line behind the three medalists and five other guys.

I think I would've preferred seeing someone crash and burn, picking off runners, trying to win, then playing it so cool they freeze themselves out of contention. You're left with the sense that our marathoners are either thoroughly outclassed or didn't try.

Better luck in 2012.

The Family That Blogs Together . . .

My sister, Mary Pat, has joined the blogging community. Give her a read as she opines on matters great and small from the moist Northwest.

Been There, Broke That

American marathon ace Deena Kastor broke a foot two miles into last Sunday's Olympic Marathon. In 2006, I experienced something similar. Granted, the Santa Anita 5K and the Olympics aren't often mentioned in the same breath, but I can emphasize with the feelings that accompany a goal-wrecking injury. The interview here is a bit long. Besides marathoners (and those who enjoy a good wall fountain), the clip should interest anyone wishing to hone a winning attitude. In any case, all the best to Deena Kastor. I know she'll return in championship form.

Sultry Deju Va on a Long Run

Arising late yet again, I ran 16.8 miles. The first half on a very steep course was a study in smooth, even hill running. I made expert use of fast foot turnover to speed up on the downhills and finished a minute under pace time. By now, the sun and humidity decided to weigh in. After a hot .8 miles to my car, I loaded up on more water and electrolyte juice before setting out on the second eight.

Here is a selection of thoughts in unshaded regions: Why don't I cut it short today? I could shorten my run/walk ratio. I should walk. I should really walk. What's the big deal? I had a great first half. I don't really want to qualify for Boston this year. A nice new PR will be great. I should walk the last mile so I don't get heat exhaustion.

Still and all, I finished well for the conditions — a minute above pace time. I went to the grocery store for ice and overbought on food. This always happens. I should never set foot in a grocery store after a long run without eating something first.

Now, time for an unpleasant, yet bracing, ice bath.

Second Practice

TNT Winter Team logged four miles yesterday. My job was to time three new team mates running their initial 5K assessment. I almost lost them in the crowd, as the team was finishing up at the same time. But my trio eventually received times as well as fine snack food provided by the Fall Team.

I couldn't help but note that many of the pace groups ran the four miles too quickly. This seems to happen every season. People think they're "winning" or "bettering their run" by speeding up on the longer distances. It's difficult to explain that the goal is to teach their bodies to endure several hours of race day running. New runners think that because they can go faster, they should. Thankfully, there's always Coach Pete and the rehab pool.

After the run, Doc Smith from the Pasadena Pacers gave an injury clinic. I learned that my slight knee pain is caused by tight hamstrings. In addition to stretching and the roller, this will require icing. So I scored an official Doc Smith ice bag. Most ice bags freeze in odd, rigid positions like frozen lakes. Doc Smith bags are cold but malleable, wrapping easily around joints and conforming to injured areas. These bags rawk!

Siggraph

Caught most of the animated shorts festival at the Nokia Theater. A great deal of outstanding CGI — so much that it blended together after awhile. Not everything had a story, or even a simple one-joke set up/pay off. A number of shorts merely showcased technology. Several other films were demo reels for studios or CGI production houses ala Rhythm and Hues. Two hours later, I gave the "John Award" to "Jungle Jail," a prisoner's desperate dream, for having cool CGI and a story I could follow.

Because of work considerations, I had time for lunch with MDW and her friend before zipping back home to graphic novel land.

"There Will Be Sandwiches"

Over lunch, Paul Dini schooled Tom Ruegger, Sherri Stoner and I in graphic noveling. I've got an idea that Tom and I are working on, while Sherri had a few notions that might work best in that medium.

Mostly we swapped bizarre pitch stories. Dini brought home the gold. He'd once been contacted by the assistant of a powerful Hollywood figure. The Big Man wanted Paul to attend a meeting for a new prime-time animated series. After a few questions, Paul realized the Big Man had him confused with Bruce Timm. Paul tried explaining this, but the assistant clearly didn't relish telling her boss he was wrong. So she slapped down the deal closer:

"Why don't you come anyway. There will be sandwiches."

A week later, after attending the meeting and eating a sandwich, Dini received a call from the assistant: the Big Man didn't want Paul for the project. He wanted Bruce Timm. Paul asked if the Big Man wanted his sandwich back, but the irony was lost.

Hot 15 Mile Run

Woke up late. When the temperature ascends into the high 80s, best not mix oversleeping with distance running. Nevertheless, I did and completed my 15.1 in cauldron-like temperatures. Alas, my water supply ended before the run. After finishing, I rushed toward the nearest fountain like a dog left in the car all summer. (A hardy, alive dog, that is.)

Today I improved slightly on pace - 9:44. That includes hills and stopping to pant in the shade. I'm aiming to shave off an additional nine seconds on the long runs plus lower tempo run times from 8:07 to below eight.

But not if I keep getting up late in August.

New TNT Season, First Practice

The Winter Team began nice and early today with a bracing 3.1 mile run. For some, it was a bracing walk, but nevertheless everyone completed their loop of the Rose Bowl. From here, half-a-hundred brave folk, most of whom have never run or walked more than six miles, will set out to conquer the marathon - or the half-marathon. I'm looking forward to helping them succeed.

Speaking of marathon training, fifteen miles awaits me tomorrow. "Unexcited" would describe my thoughts on that. Next week begins the countdown for the California International Marathon. Morgan, Ernesto and other current and former TNT folk may head up there to cheer me on. Very decent, these TNT types.

Jimmy Freeman and Kate Martini wed yesterday. My first TNT coach plus the coach who encouraged me to dream big are now husband and wife. I wish them all the best on the rocky, rewarding road of marriage.

Now to sleep, perchance to wake up really stinking early.

Main Man Mania

That last post brought back memories of a busy time at Warner Brothers. I think I'd written the Lobo pilot months earlier and forgotten about it. But suddenly the Main Man had heat. Along with Boyd Kirkland, then Scotty Jeralds, we got the show rolling.

In the fall of 1998:

Lobo was test-marketed. Boys loved it. (Lobo broke things and didn't take any lip. What's not to love?)

We pitched the show to marketing. They went wild. ("We can sell toys based on this. We really can!")




We pitched the show to Jamie Kellner and our new bosses at Kids' WB. Nothing. A sea of Toltec masks.



We pitched the show to Warner Studios head, Bob Daley. While not a demonstrative man, he thought it just fine.

Models changed, props were drawn, Scotty's crew got the board started. Composer Richard Stone was fired up to do music, while Brad Garrett would voice Lobo. In addition, voice director Andrea Romano had cast William H. Macy and Linda Hamilton in supporting roles.

I had ideas for twelve half-hour episodes. Two writers (Ken Segall and Mitch Watson) were working on outlines.

This was shaping up to be fun.

On a Friday in late January 1999, boss Jean MacCurdy called me into her office. Monday was the production start date. Artists were already reporting to work. Scotty's crew had the first act boarded.

We were cancelled.

Jamie Kellner just didn't like the show.

Jean spent the day on the phone, calling different people, angling for ways we might proceed. But no go.

Scotty and the production manager (Haven Alexander?) let the artists know we'd been sunk. I told Stonini, Andrea, and the writers. It was a depressing day.

In 2000, Fox expressed interest in the project. We had a few meetings but never agreed on numbers. Also that year, Lobo webisodes appeared on the Warner Brothers' site.

Meanwhile, the show hurriedly purchased to replace Lobo on the schedule was having phenomenal success.

It was called Pokemon.

Scott Jeralds: Drawin' Man

Animation artist and champion fellow Scott Jeralds has just joined the blogosphere. After working together on Freakazoid!, Scotty and I developed several TV animation projects such as Mammoth Boy. "Mammoth" championed brains-over-brawn via the adventures of a prehistoric kid. Our hero herded mammoths and dreamed big, while dodging cranky tribal elders and dim, but cunning, beasts.

We pitched this in late 1999 to our bosses at Kids' WB. As pitches go, it was a surreal experience. After several minutes of me talking and Scotty holding up artwork, and both of us passing out colored pitch booklets, we reached the end. There was silence for several moments. Then our Harvard-educated network chief smiled and asked: "Could you start again?"

(I'd like to say we stood on our dignity, gathered our materials and walked to the door, where my voice rang out like thunder, "Read the pitch book — if you can!" But we did it once more. And they passed.)

A year earlier, we'd worked on Lobo. Based on the homicidal D.C. Comics character, the series was originally in the hands of Boyd Kirkland. But Boyd was shifting over to a Batman direct-to-video. I had already written a pilot and came aboard to co-produce and story edit. Eventually, Scotty replaced Boyd.

Lamenting the decline of Saturday morning TV, Scotty crafted this nifty cartoon montage. See how many you can name.

Haunted First Responder

I'm now certified to handle heat exhaustion, ankle sprains and ghost bites.

With Winter Season starting Saturday, I needed a First Aid class. Last night, I attended one in Pasadena. The class was held in an old mansion just off of Orange Grove, a street fat with mansions. Apparently, the dwelling had been donated to the Red Cross many years before. There were only four of us students and the instructor. As the rest of the staff left and dusk gave way to night, our instructor told us the place was haunted.

A student had once wandered to the third floor where he heard strange sounds. Gusts of air rushed past him in places where there shouldn't have been drafts. He prayed desperately and ran like mad — a prudent action under the circumstances. Our instructor closed with a careful, "But I've never seen anything," and we left matters at that. (Though no one wanted to be the last one out.)

I thought about it later. If you were frightened enough to have a heart attack, the ghosts could provide CPR and tend to any bruises you suffered while collapsing. Then, once you came around, they could scare you again.

Perhaps they'll get their own series on the Sci Fi Channel.

(Feel free to work in "ghost writers.")

My Writing Friend Gerald

Gerald does things no writer should do. He snubs the powerful and walks out of meetings with the annoying. He isn't wealthy and, in fact, could use the money that steady employment brings. Such jobs are available for family-man Gerald. With a proven track record and good ideas, he's a sought-after figure in TV animation. But Gerald cannot fake enthusiasm for projects that he considers stupid and ill-conceived.

There are many such projects along Olive Avenue: squalid ideas that float about like oil upon sewer water. Gerald will avoid these the way a swimmer avoids poisonous jelly fish.

He's never deliberately rude, just decisive.

Go Gerald.