6K X-Country ASATAL 2013 - 3rd place

I know I promised no more race reports, but...I was only foolin'. This weekend I racked up my umpteenth 3rd place finish in Chile.

Ran in the local cross country finals yesterday (we started and finished on the track, in case you were wondering about the photos...but "you" weren't. because no one is reading this. just me. and the only thing i was wondering about is why my pillow smelled like ketchup when i woke up this morning.)

The 6k course was 4 loops, basically up-a-hill then down-a-hill X 4. The guy who won went off the front from the beginning, with myself and another guy neck-and-neck about 30 seconds behind. We would close the gap on the downhill and then lose ground on the uphill on each loop. Finally, I "made a move" on the guy next to me during the uphill on the 3rd loop. This means that I asked him if he ran here often and twirled my finger around one of my golden sausage curls. Plus bedroom eyes.

I was hacking and spuming along confidently in 2nd place until the end on the last loop. I looked behind me and saw 3rd place was RIGHT behind me. I tried to put a couple seconds on him in the downhill, but he fucking passed me right as we entered the track for the big finish in front of throngs of screaming fans. I tried to do something about it, but for the first time in months I was 100% max'd out, suffering, hopelessly dying on my feet. I crossed the finish line in total silence, before a stadium with about 8 people in it. The authentic track and field experience!

I finished in 21:21, which according to the pace calculator, is a 17:44 5k. Which is a PR by almost 30 seconds...so, I've got that going for me. Also, right before the race, I put in an hour jogging the hills and set a PR for my local climb. I got to the top and my legs went out from underneath me. So...yeah, all in all: a day marked by horrendous, anaerobic torture.

Here's first place. You can see 2nd and I comin' round the bend...

There's second!

There's turd!

This guy has been running in Chile since the 70's. What's rad about that is when he was out jogging back in the day, people literally thought he was insane. I mean, literally. They thought he had a mental problem and would stop by to see his family and ask if everything was OK with him. Juan is boss!

New Chilean trail running madness!

A couple friends and I have started a tumblr account chocked-full of delicious Chilean trailing running goodies: Pics, videos and twittery shit (in Spanish, I think). The guilty parties are as follows:

Daniel Rowland(2nd from left in the pic): Winner Atacama Crossing 2013

Max Keith (shirtless): the chilean anton krupicka. 2nd place Vertical K, chile. Has a great training blog (in Spanish, but the pics are always priceless.)

Matias Bull(far right): the chilean Bryon Powell AND Ian Corliss...the brains behind TrailChile and a great runner in his own right. He's headed to the Patagonia Run 100K in two weeks.

Me(far left): Sack of baby poop. I occasionally get my heart-rate up while I'm flagging down a taxi cab to the grocery store, smoking cigarettes and scraping dried sweat from underneath my man-tits.

Anyway, check it out all the goodtimes at: bossjogging.tumblr.com

Daniel and I shot a short video last weekend. No no. It's all running.

Proposed Trans-Michigan Trail is Gigantic!

Being a Michigander (by choice and pedigree, if not by birthplace)...I was thrilled to my gills and I shrieked to my teats when I saw that the governing peoples of Michigan have proposed the linkage of many existing trail systems into one big beast of a trail that very pleasingly arcs across the full fair face of our graceful place's space!

Perhaps more exciting is that there's already a stalwart, steady-eyed Michigander who's announced his intention to hike the length of this new trail, BEFORE it's even been officially marked. Many miles of it will entail oodles of bushwackery (and likely tomfoolery). Best of luck to you, my lad!

http://www.freep.com/article/20121129/NEWS06/121129002/Graphic-Proposed-trail-from-Belle-Isle-to-Wisconsin

Minimalist shoes cause cancer!

My God, True Believer, how long has it been since we've had one of our treasured, fire-side chats? I suppose, in this instance, the fire-side hearth could be just as readily swapped for the warming glow of a laptop screen, illuminating your beautiful face as you pull the covers up and over your head. That, True Believer, is how I can only assume you enjoy this blog. Maybe drunk, too.

Things have been Top o' the Pops. TP. Tee-pee. Squaws. A little Indian brave. Is THIS Indian brave? Even just a little? Love has come into my life, on the severe wings of a giant feathered Indian head-dress, and it has left just as readily in a puff of peace-pipe smoke.

I have no idea what I'm talking about. Let me turn and put a little more beer (read: whiskey) into my glass (read: flower vase with protruding straw). That is to say: Let me get serious with you, True Believer.

I have never been a fan of work. I hate it, actually. I know that many people would have you believe that you have to find what you love and do THAT for your living. This way, they claim, you really aren't working at all. You're Doing What You Love. But you see, therein lies the pile of bull's shit: If what you do earns money, then it's Work (capital "w") and, as it is now officially Work, I will hate the fuck out of it equally.

That's the duality of man or something. Or the frosting on the cake you have and eat, too. Oh no. I have no idea what I'm talking about again. BOTTLE! COME!

Haha, that never works...

But "Bottle" would be a good name for a dog.

Ok.

So, what I'm getting at is this: After Chilean summer vacation, I'm now fully back at work, 12 hour days at the office, wishing I were deader than the proverbial door's nail. HOWEVER, I realized, as I was showering at the gym after sneaking in a 1 hour tempo run during my unpaid, obligatory lunchbreak...I realized that I'm actually THANKFUL for the limitations that work places on me. I need work to give shape to my day and provide a necessary foil, against which I can rail, wail and (ultimately) prevail. So, while I will always be impressed by dudes who train super hard with crazy work hours and raising a family, etc. ...I also know the dark truth, now. People like them need those constraints. In the same way that millennia of crushing pressure transforms coal into diamonds (Or just Superman's fist. Anyone else remember that movie? Fantastic. I knew you would.) ...in this same way, the pressures of work, love, family, etc. also serve to turn your raw carbon lazy-ass into a glistening, eternal diamond.

An eternal diamond that can run like a motherfucker.

"Eternal diamond" would not be quite as good a name for a dog. Know why? No ring.

I love you, True Believer, and I want you to know that I'm still here, running a shitload and doing my best to turn the parts of me that are black and combustible into something clear, cold and eternal.

Did you know that I write almost all of these posts as stream-of-consciousness? Haha, that's why they're completely garbage! It's mostly out of laziness, but when it goes well...ha, gosh, look who I'm talking to! True Believer, you never doubted.

Sorry for this post. Here's a video of my run last weekend. Met a goat-herder. Goat shepherd? That doesn't make any sense if you break it apart.