If You’re Not Close To Death, How Do You Know You’re Alive?

I chose pain. I’m training in the sun this summer, and I started today. I went to the Y this morning to lift weights and when I was done I was planning to do my normal hour on the elliptical machine. But then I thought why not run outside? So I did. I headed out to my car, checked the thermometer, strapped on my iPod and took off towards the river. It was 87 degrees and I was wearing a black shirt. The only downside is that I didn’t have my Garmin 305. It took me less than five minutes to finish blasting my shoulders and to start running. The plan was to run to the Jacksonville Landing and back. I was less than ten steps in before I was out of breath. My body was still trying to deal with the fatigue from the weights when I was asking it to carry me up a bridge. I hated every moment of it, but this is how Kenyans and Ethiopians grow up, it’s their basic mode of travel, so running up hill in the heat is the way to go. On the way down the bridge over the railroad tracks, it wasn’t so much running as it was not quite falling down. Man was I happy about being in the shade, which didn’t last very long. I got to the bottom and found my stride. I cruised the half mile to the Landing, and then realized I had to run back. I started to lose it on the way back. I was wondering what the homeless people thought about runners. I was wondering if I would feel it when my heart exploded in my chest. I know heart attacks hurt, but this wouldn’t really be a heart attack. Heart attacks come from a lack of blood. My heart was just being pushed past its limits, especially going back up the bridge. I never felt as bad as I did during the River Run, so I never stopped. These were the thoughts that were running through my head. I finished with a lap around the track, and I ran flat out the last hundred yards. I drove home and sat in my car for five minutes while my heart slowed down. It wasn’t until I was sitting in front of my house that I got a little scared about not being able to catch my breath. Oh well, that which doesn’t kill us. This is gonna be a fun summer.

This Is A Cheery Post or See What Happens When I Can't Fit In A Workout?

I have lunch with a group on alternating Thursdays, and today was a lunch day. I love these days because I get to eat at one of my favorite spots, European Street. I think they’re the best sandwich shops in Jacksonville. I also enjoy hanging out with this group, which consists, mostly, of old white Southern men. The group started with my dad and these men, I think as a vestry committee, almost fifteen years ago. I’m not really sure, but I know it had something to do with church. I know that’s where they met each other. I’ve been part of the group for about ten or twelve years. Members come and go, and the group will get as large as ten, but there are two real mainstays, John and Bill. John is a curmudgeon with a heart of gold who desperately wants to have an open mind. That’s the best way I can describe him. Bill is just a sweet, sweet man. When I first started eating with them Bill was in his mid sixties and John was in his late fifties. Now Bill is in his late seventies and John is in his early seventies. They’re getting old, or more precisely, they’ve gotten old. John is recovering from a heart attack and triple bypass surgery he had about a month ago, and hasn’t been able to join us. Bill had to cancel two weeks ago because of some type of medical issue, and when I saw him today I noticed that his handshake was weak. Their minds are sharp but their bodies are failing them, and it’s freaking me out. My Thursday lunches are going to change. They already have. John has chosen me as his successor. I now organize when everybody gets together. John is a self-made millionaire through hard work and saving, so I understand where he's coming from politically. He’s a conservative cut from the “I’ll take care of me and you take care of you and everything will be fine” cloth, yet he spends three days a week delivering meals on wheels. He’s a Republican who’s disillusioned by the petty cowardice and stupidity of his party, but he’s friends with younger Republicans who aren’t as thoughtful as he is. And I’m finding it hard to invite them to what is becoming my lunch. Bill is a guy who truly just wants to be a good Christian, and has spent his life evolving from his experiences. They’re two true mavericks. They were Southern Republicans before 1980. I hate that John’s and Bill’s funerals aren’t abstractions in my long term thinking anymore. I'm moving out of the phase of life where I think, wow it’s going to be weird when so and so dies, and into the phase where I’m terrified that oh s**t these people are going to be gone soon. Merry Christmas everyone.

Ricardo Montalban Died Today

Ricardo Montalban died today at 88. The Mexican actor made a splash in the late ‘40’s in Hollywood musicals and had a long running stint as Mr. Roarke on Fantasy Island – even after it got weird. He is best known for pimping the Chrysler LeBaron with its rich Corinthian leather during the ‘80’s and as Khan Noonien Singh the genetically enhanced super-villain who cost Spock his life, but more importantly went macho-a-macho with James T. Kirk. He was so absolutely, totally, completely, an unmitigated badass that, although he only showed up on one episode of Star Trek, they made a movie about him fifteen years later. Consider the subtitles for the Star Trek movies: Generations, The Voyage Home, Sulu’s story: We’re Queer and We’re Here. But when Señor Montalban signed on they came up with The Wrath of Khan as a subtitle for the second Star Trek movie because his machismo dictated it. The Wrath of Khan was a great movie not just because Kirk had finally met his equal in deep space pimpery but also because Montalban took bigger bites out of the scenery than Shatner. I know all the other performers spent most of their time checking their bank balances to make sure the checks had cleared. Money was the only thing that kept them on the set. If you haven’t seen the movie, this is the Cliff’s Notes version

Montalban: KOOOOUUUUUURRRRRRKKKK!!! (that’s Kirk with a Mexican accent)

Shatner: KAAAAAAHHHHHHHNNNNNN!!! (that’s Kahn with a Canadian accent)

Although, near the end, Leonard Nimoy has quite the scene chewing soliloquy, only to be upstaged a minute later by Shatner’s fake trembling lip. Don’t bring Kool-Aid to a gin party. But the greatest part of the movie, and the reason Ricardo Montalban is in Cooperstown, was Kahn’s chest. Bill Murray once asked, “Quien es mas macho, Fernando Lamas o Ricardo Montalban?” Only God knows for sure, but I think I have a pretty good idea.

8579

SWEET MOTHER OF ALL THAT'S HOLY!!! WE'RE ALL GONNA DIIIIIIEEEEE!!! STOCK UP ON CANNED GOODS!!! KATIE BAR THE DOOR!!!

At least now I have something to complain about to my grand kids.

Come 'ere son and sit down while Grampa tells ya about what it was like back in aught eight. I was a strapping young lad of 2 score minus 3 when the Dow Jones Industrial Average plummeted to 8579. We thought it was the end of the world, and if George W. Bush and the rest of the evangeli-faciscts of the day had it their way it woulda been. But thanks to a mulatto, half-muslim, half racist, inexperienced, angry, black elitest, socialist with ties to domestic terrorists and brie eating, chardonnay drinking, East Coast, limousine liberals everything turned out alright. No son, it wasn't Tiger Woods

The Spin Cycle

Are you kidding me? This is the coolest thing ever. I hope it STORMNIHILATES everthing between California and China. I know I shouldn't be wishing for death and destruction, but I see this as an out-of-the-box solution to over-population and world hunger. When this thing hits category 5 I'm getting T-shirts and baseball caps made.