April 2011

Another blog. About Portland. And other stuff too.

about | archives | twitter | flickr | potma | iphone snapshots | facebook | yelp
rss feed | youtube | links | the burning log


Questions? Comments? Reservations?
anotherportlandblog[at]gmail[dot]com

Another Portland Blog

Saturday, July 31, 2004

 

Run-Hit Flounder pt. 2

Part 1? Here.



Last night I returned from three days of intense cross-training in the backwoods of the Deschutes National Forest. The regime consisted of grueling runs along the slopes of Mount Bachelor and rafting trips on the Hosmer Lake that would break most men in my weight class. I am now fully prepared for tomorrow's Run-Hit Wonder. One of those Gibson guitars is surely mine. You can bet on it.

OK, not really. I ran around for ten minutes before getting lost in the campground. The rafting consisted of apathetically drifting while drinking discount Rogue Hefeweizen and laughing at families in incredibly expensive kayaks.

That's not to say there weren't moments when I actually broke a sweat. My companions, their dogs and I had to fight a serious wind to get back up stream. As we struggled against the tide I had to urinate so bad I somehow gave myself a headache. Come on, that's the sort of gritty hell workout that would make even Rocky wince. After all, his training regime probably allowed for pee breaks.

Anyway, tomorrow morning I and 10,000 others will run the 10K through a maze of '80s bands. Well, they'll run and I'll probably walk. While chasing frogs in a mountain stream (yes, you read that right. Frogs. Mountain stream.), I cut the big toe on my left foot. Then, late yesterday, I was stung on the same foot by a yellow jacket. This entire thing has become the stuff of countless cheesy underdog movies. Will I overcome all this adversity and, through sheer will and the goodness in my heart, win this race tomorrow? Naw. Unlike the Bad News Bears, the Mighty Ducks and Charlie Sheen, the chances of me coming out on top are next to zero. Actually, to be frank, they're below zero.

If you're at the race and you see a runner walking, taking pictures of the crowd and chain-smoking, that's me. I may have to stop at the Matador for a mid-race vodka Red Bull. If I'm going to lose this thing, I may as well do so in the most obnoxious way possible.

Comments: Post a Comment

Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]



Links to this post:

Create a Link



<< Home


SEARCH THIS BLOG? SURE, NO PROBLEMO, AS BART SIMPSON USED TO SAY....





www.flickr.com




-archives-

  • October 2003
  • November 2003
  • December 2003
  • January 2004
  • February 2004
  • March 2004
  • April 2004
  • May 2004
  • June 2004
  • July 2004
  • August 2004
  • September 2004
  • October 2004
  • November 2004
  • December 2004
  • January 2005
  • February 2005
  • March 2005
  • April 2005
  • May 2005
  • June 2005
  • July 2005
  • August 2005
  • September 2005
  • October 2005
  • November 2005
  • December 2005
  • January 2006
  • February 2006
  • March 2006
  • April 2006
  • May 2006
  • June 2006
  • July 2006
  • August 2006
  • September 2006
  • October 2006
  • November 2006
  • December 2006
  • January 2007
  • February 2007
  • March 2007
  • April 2007
  • May 2007
  • June 2007
  • July 2007
  • August 2007
  • September 2007
  • October 2007
  • November 2007
  • December 2007
  • January 2008
  • February 2008
  • March 2008
  • April 2008
  • May 2008
  • June 2008
  • July 2008
  • August 2008
  • September 2008
  • October 2008
  • November 2008
  • December 2008
  • January 2009
  • February 2009
  • March 2009
  • April 2009
  • May 2009
  • June 2009
  • July 2009
  • August 2009
  • October 2009
  • November 2009
  • December 2009
  • January 2010
  • February 2010
  • March 2010
  • April 2010
  • August 2010
  • September 2010
  • October 2010
  • November 2010
  • January 2011
  • February 2011
  • March 2011
  • April 2011

  • Clicky Web Analytics


    This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?