Das Mixture

The Beast

Opening Statement

There is a beast in man that needs to be exercised, not exorcised - Anton LaVey

Sunday, I silently crept into the dark, dank depths of the Beer Hibernation Chamber until I encountered The Beast. Yes, it was time. Mano a mano. One of us would be napping with the fishes and I vowed it would not be me. Oops.

Avery's The Beast is a Grand Cru brew that checks in at 15.07% abv 2009 version). Read that again...15.07% avb. OK, that's just a spanking waiting to happen. Or in football terms, someone missed the entire fourth quarter. I'm not kidding, one minute I am watching a touchdown pass, the next minute I am looking up at two different teams.

The Beast can best be decribed as a sipping beer. Duh. If you opt to purchase one of these, save it for a dark, cold, winter day for The Beast shall strip the chill from your spine. In fact, if I may, it kind of makes you feel like warm honey.

It pours a nice mahogany with minimal head. Immediately, you get your first whiff of alcohol. Yeah, The Beast doesn't mess around. He's coming at you with everything he's got. You can detect the notes of molassess right away. Yeah, someone is in for a battle. 

The alcohol literally hits you in the face at first sip. Then it settles down with a sweetness that may be too much for some beer drinkers. Among other things, they pumped this beer up with honey, molasses, turbinado and Belgian candy sugar. It's no wonder that when the sugar rush subsides, the alcohol would smack you upside the head. I had to go out and mow the lawn just to restore my senses, and that was after I missed the fourth quarter...

The Beast was a good experience although I am on the fence regarding whether or not I shall purchase another bottle. It's definitely a beer that can be aged, so perhaps I may place another one in the Chamber to see if I can mellow it out a little. Although, I am not sure if this Beast can be tamed.

Barefoot Tuesday

Nary a soul was stirring as I padded through the neighborhood for 3.55 miles this morning. My second barefoot run on concrete was a bit more rewarding as I shaved just a tad over a minute per mile off my pace from last week. That tells me my feet are becoming more accepting of the concrete.  

Listening to: Suicide Blonde - INXS

Closing Argument: I'll proudly say it. I am excited for Windows 7 because I know it will make my blog posts so much better...

All In

Opening Statement

Life, like all other games, becomes fun when one realizes it's just a game - Nerijus Stasiulis

I have done the research, consulted the oracles and left a flaming sacrifice on the altar of the Running Gods. And verily, come Sunday morning I will lace up the shoes for the Houston Half Marathon, which consists of three loops of Allen Parkway (assuming the race has not filled up by Saturday).

Thus, with my intentions known, I must pronounce a goal. 

I am going to run this race for fun!

Ha!

Technically this is true because I have fun at every race. Especially home town races. In fact, regardless of the outcome, I cannot think of one single race, where I did not have a modicum of fun. I run because I love to; not because I have to prove anything to anyone. Hence, I'm usually having fun out there.

However, there is a big difference between running a race for fun and having fun during a race. There are two reasons you run a race for fun - first, you are running Disney or second, you are running in costume. Since I am doing neither, I must fulfill the desire of the running blogoshpere by mumbling about some half-assed goal that sounds remotely challenging.

My PR for this race (and my overall PR) is 1:49:18. Totally out of reach at this point in my knee rehab. So that goal is out. 

I am pacing my sister-in-law at a half marathon on the 31st, so a goal could be to practice maintaining a ten minute pace based on her goal finishing time. This is indeed a worthy goal and since this is technically a training run (I would have been running 13 miles this weekend regardless) would make sense.

Vanilla ran a 2:06:55 this past weekend at the Denver Half. Doesn't it just warm the soul when you beat another blogger who is around the same speed as you?  It sure does. But this is not fair on several levels. Mainly because I have the advantage of knowing what his time was.  

Garmin Training Center tells me my last two long runs were both completed with a 9:26 overall pace. So perhaps shooting for a 2:03 would make sense if weather conditions are like they have been the last two weeks. That said, running in a race is much different than training and this is my first race since knee surgery.

Hence, the horns of a dillema. Perhaps I should just run this for fun... Give me your feedback and I'll blog my pronouncement pre-race.

Listening to: J**z In My Pants - The Lonley Island

Closing Argument: I have indeed "run a race for fun." Back in 2005 I ran the Disney Marathon with my wife. Indeed, both us have a six hour marathon on our resume and it is, to date, our slowest marathon. But because we ran it for fun, we could care less. We stopped and took pictures. We stopped and hung out with characters. We did a bunch of stuff you would not normally do during a marathon. In fact, if any of the fun rides were open as we passed through some of the parks, we probably would have gone on a ride or two.

Let's Get Ready to Grumble!

Opening Statement

The alarm clock woke me this morning. It's never good when the alarm clock wakes me. Even if it is 3:35 in the morning.

My nipples feel like someone attached alligator clips to them. It's my fault, I forgot to put sploob on them. I have a blister on my left heal. It's my fault, I wore a pair of socks that are too thin for the shoes I ran in. Yeah, one of those days. And I knew it the moment I woke up. Ever have that feeling? The alarm rarely wakes me up  - heck I rarely set the alarm, that's how good my internal body clock is. But today, the ol' internal body clock opted to sleep in. Unfortunately, with a ten miler on the docket, I did not have that luxury.

Normally I'll immediately recognize the song on the radio because I can pop out of dreamland and into reality faster than Amy Winehouse can down a shot of tequila and a line of coke. Not today. Just one of those days when you wake up and wonder - how much did I drink last night... Except, you didn't drink last night. I rarely drink during the week, much less on Friday night - especially if I am running Saturday morning. But that's how I felt.

I could grumble on all morning, but the reality is, despite everything, I had a pretty darn good ten miler. So good that I just may sign up for the Houston Half Marathon next weekend. This could be my first race since knee surgery and if I sign up, I'll post my goals a little later in the week and I promise it won't be anything L-A-M-E like "run for fun."

Now if you will excuse me, I need to go caress ice my nipples.

Listening to: The World Is Not Enough - Garbage

Closing Argument: I googled "Amy Winehouse" to ensure I spelled her name correctly and noticed that critics are hailing someone named "Adele" as the next Amy Winehouse. Really, we're going to predict the next boozed up, drug addled, songstress. Seriously? I wonder how Adele feels about his.

Last Mile Lounge - Wall of Fame Edition

Opening Statement

Welcome to the Last Mile Lounge, several of us are doing some post run stretching and eyeing the beer taps in anticipation.

Well she certainly looks innocent doesn't she? But the women out there know better, don't they. This angel of death isn't merely looking up whistfully, she is contemplating the downfall of Jamoosh. How could this happen you ask? Ladies, you know darn well how. Yet, in my loving wife's absence many of you let it be known that you would not carry my beer. Where is the outpouring of support? Here I thought I belonged to a tight knit community that cared; that looked out for one of their own. Apparently not. At this very moment, the above toned and lithe woman is putting her plan together:

1. Carry Jamoosh's Beer
2. Tempt and tease him
3. Use him for my own naughty purposes.

Oh, but wait. There is one beacon of light. Let me introduce you to Tara, who said she would carry my beer. To be fair she said she would also probably drink all of it, but I doubt she would get past the first bottle since most beer I drink tends to be higher in alcohol content than the standard brew. But, it is the thought that counts and due to that thought I am adding Tara to my December WALL of FAME.

Joining Tara on the Wall is RazZDoodle for his comment about my sweet Redhook cycling jersey:

I want to make the "NASCAR driver with no pants joke". I really do.

Funny, and I can take a joke. Yeah, funny (but not disparaging) will get you on the Wall. Finally, my third addition to my Inaugural Wall is XC2. Basically because she is cute as all get out and I really want Nebraska to feel like they are representin' as the blustery season grows near.

Abbreviated List of Things That Suck When the Wife is Gone

• Movies on the couch
• Football on the couch
• Footsie on the couch (Um, duh)
• Saturday's at BJ's
• Weekend Whataburger for Breakfast
• -------------------- Deleted (naughty bits)
• Spec's (the Beer store) runs
• Nachos (or what we call them, "Nachismos" - see we took the term "Machismo" and substituted an "N"...oh never mind.
• Feeding the Cat Beer (OK, this is a lie, I would never give beer to our cat. Seriously, do you know how much decent beer costs these days?)

Listening to: Minstrel Boy - Enter the Haggis

Closing Argument: Glad you asked. A short list of things on tap in the lounge: St. Arnold Summer Pils, Tyranena Bitter Woman IPA, Avery Mephistopheles Stout and Sierra Nevada ESB - Word!

Nude Running

Opening Statement

Step-ouch-doh! Step-ouch-doh! Step-ouch-doh! Step-ouch-doh! ...Just kidding.

This morning I waded outside into the 97% humidity (seriously Mother Nature, what the hell...) for a five mile jaunt on the concrete jungle that is our neighborhood...barefoot.

Yes indeed, my first and longest run on concrete sans shoes. In a word - slow! In fact, well over a minute slower per mile than Tuesday's run at Memorial Park (done in Vibram Five Fingers). Am I worried? Nah. Sure, the high humidity to go along with 80 degree temperatures may have contributed, but really it's the fact that I was running barefoot.

When one runs barefoot, your feet regulate your pace. It's rather weird. In shoes, I can push myself faster with no problems. In bare feet, not so much. Based on feedback and comfort, the feet decide what pace they are happy with. Even if you want to go faster (and could go faster) your body fights you. Since this was my first time on concrete (and it was dark), the feet just weren't up to the same pace that I would have had were I on grass.

Pacing Duties

One of the reasons I am not too concerned about pace is that I am working on my posture. So in the big scheme of things, pace isn't all that important right now. OK, that's not 100% true. I have a half marathon coming up where I have volunteered to pace my sister-in-law to a 2:10 or better finish, so I have to be able to easily do that.

This should be fun! I'll get to question her womanhood, interrogate her about being a horrible mom, and really just challenge her reason for living. Oh sure, there will be tears, but she will thank me when she has a new PR. She might even buy me a beer too. Ice cold brew flowing from the tap into a frosty mug...I know it's only 7:30 AM but I could use one right now; my hot and humid run and all.

Mmmmm, beer. Sorry, small digression. The above is just not true. I am an..wait for it...awesome running partner. There is no need for you to blindly trust me on this because deep down, in the cockels of your heart, you know this to be true.

Listening to: High School Hoodlums - The Datsuns

Closing Argument: Last night I watched Running the Sahara, the story of three ultra runners who traversed the Sahara over 111 days. Good viewing for any runner - whether they have the desire to run great distances or not.

My Garmin Thinks I Am Slow

Opening Statement

If technology could judge us, would we be so eager to use it?

Hoptomic Bomb

This past weekend I reached deep into the Beer Hibernation Unit and popped the top on a Deschutes Hop Henge Experimental IPA.

DANGER! If you are a connoisseur of Light/Lite Beer please stand back from the bottle. You do not want to go there. Your head will explode, but not before your brain melts. Your internal support systems are not fit to handle a beer of this magnitude. Please, take your tall can and exit through the back door.

If your taste buds like to be abused - can you say hop spanking - then this beer is for you. I was a tad skeptical with the word Experimental loosely mentioned in the name of the brew, but my reservations were soon overcome.

Hop Henge pours a nice copper color with a light frothy head. When you first get a wiff, you might think you are in the middle of an orange grove. Well an orange grove that is being overun by flower power. It smells niiiiiiiiiice.

And the taste? As expected, big hop flavor. It's almost like chewing on hops. But wait, the massive hop explosion is tempered by some aggressive malt action, bringing about a surprisingly well-balanced brew.

Because of the bitterness factor, it took me nearly an entire (NFL) game to empty the 22 ounce bottle, but each sip was as enjoyable as the first.

I Have Been Judged to be Slow 

I am not one who normally pores over the graphs that are output from my trusty little Garmin, but this morning I randomly looked down and realized I am slow. Well, I have never claimed to be fast and to be honest when I am running a looped course a personal triumph is to see how far beyond halfway I can get before I am lapped by the race leader(s) - hey, it's the little things. Yet, somehow I digress.

For those of you who have no joy in your lives and do not own a Garmin, which by the way is about 50% joy and 50% frustration, the Garmin Training Center Software has predetermined Pacing Zones. Zones are based on pace at any given moment. According to Garmin I am spending most of my time as either a Fast Jogger or Slow Runner. Every now and again I work my way up to actual Runner. If I were to be able to get down, if only momentarily, to a sub 5:00/mile pace, I would be considered a Sprinter in that very moment. If anyone really cares, here is the breakdown of the different Pace Zones:

• Max Speed: 3:00 - 4:00
• Sprint: 4:00 - 5:00
• Run: 5:00 - 7:00
• Slow Run: 7:00 - 9:00
• Fast Jog: 8:00 - 10:00
• Jog: 9:00 - 12:00  
• Slow Jog: 11:00 - 14:00 
• Fast Walk: 13:00 - 17:00
• Walk: 16:00 - 20:00
• Slow Walk: 20:00 - 25:00  

So, how do you feel about yourself now? By the way, I am going to lobby that the fastest Pace Zone (Max Speed), be renamed to Obnoxious.

Listening to: Absolutely Cuckoo - The Magnetic Fields

Closing Argument: I also want to rename the slowest Pace Zone (Slow Walk) to: "Your Beer Will be Warm Before You get Back to the Couch." Just sayin'.

I See Red

Opening Statement

Congratulations to the Redheads - Carolyn and Jen for kickin' it marathon style this past weekend in Chicago. Jen had a great 4:08 first marathon and Carolyn spanked the course in 3:40 to qualify for Boston.

Booty Smack

I ask you, is there anything better than watching nubile, college age women smackin' each other's booty for over an hour and a half - legally? I think not. Well, unless of course I could do it in my underwear with a bucket of KFC, but that could lead to an arrest if one was in a public venue. Regardless, Friday I headed on down to the University of Houston to take in the Lady Cougars Volleyball match. I seem to remember the Coogs being a bit mightier when I was a student back in the day, however did I mention the booty smackin' action?

Bonus Mileage

Saturday was my first long run in several weeks and I approached it with much concern. Undue concern as it turns out as the Running Gods blessed the Houston area with 59 degree temperatures. Weather so pleasant that there was no cause for frustration or angst when I missed the turnaround point by half a mile (This is what happens when several groups are running the same route with varying agendas). No worries though. Eleven miles became twelve miles and I finished with an eight minute negative split. Eight minutes seems a bit obnoxious, to be sure, but I do have some newfound confidence for the upcoming Halloween Halfathon.

Listening to: I Wish I Had A Girl - Henry Lee Summer

Closing Argument: Disappointment abounds. I wrongly assumed that after Friday's post at least one of my female readers would have volunteered to carry my beer in my wife's absence. I ask you, what has happened to volunteerism here in the aughts? 

Last Mile Lounge - Wife Edition

Opening Statement

Much conversation in the lounge this Friday. Shaq is in the house and may give us a rap.

I miss my wife!

Listening to: Desperate But Not Serious - Adam Ant (Damn Right!)

Closing Argument: If you were a housekeeper and it was discovered you walked off with a portable AC unit and an LCD TV, do you think you would be keeping that particular job? No, unless of course you are in Brazil.  

Delayed Fuse

Opening Line

The only true way to prove that you have lost your inner child is if you don't laugh when you hear the word "poop" - Amanda

If you have ever worked with explosives, and I have, for a very, very short period of time back in the day when I was graciously defending your right to gorge on Big Macs versus a ladel of borscht (that's right Jamoosh, Defender of Freedom), you know darn well that a lack of a "boom" does not mean you immediately assume that something went wrong and wander over to said explosive. Patience is truly a virtue and can prevent a tedious search for body parts.

So there I sat, waiting...

Allow me to rewind.

...eliforp thgiarts ecin a gnitomorp ,degagne dna drawrof eroc eht peek spleh skcottub eht fo gnihcnelc ehT !akeruE .erutsop retteb ot setubirtnoc slewob s'eno etacav ot egru neddus ehT

The sudden urge to vacate one's bowels contributes to better posture. Eureka! The clenching of the buttocks helps keep the core forward and engaged, promoting a nice straight profile. Who knew? On the other hand, not a comfortable position to be in if you get my drift. Sure, it's bound to happen to all of us from time to time, but I am afraid that there will be a time when my awesomeness will not be able to overcome the call of nature.

Thankfully this was not one of those times. In fact, I was ready to chalk the entire experience up to a case of phantom poop, but then victory was mine. Seriously, I finished my run and hightailed it into the house and suddenly the urge to purge had dissipated. WTF? You. Cannot. Be. Serious! But I sat anyway; waiting. Perhaps something is gumming up the works. Waiting. Possibly a delayed fuse? Waiting.

Still waiting. Until finally - damn a good poop feels good.

Hey, let's talk about my run! What the funk is up with Houston weather? It was 82 degrees at 4:00 AM (with a "feels like" of 87). Where are the heady days of fall when a cool breeze caresses you and the sight of sweater muffins fills the senses? Despite the weather conditions, overall my run was pretty darn decent, excluding said poop episode, of course. My pace was over a buck twenty faster than it was on Tuesday. This leads me to believe that apparently all that voodoo that you all do has little effect on my awesomeness. Or perhaps the Running Gods were showing their appreciation for the large bag of running gear I am filling up to donate to charity.

Listening to: Goodbye to You - The Veronicas

Closing Argument: Yesterday, with much trepidation, I hit the closet to begin thinning out the running gear. Yeah, it's better that I stay out of running stores. Women like shoes; I like orange running shirts.   

Ye Shall Be Smite

Opening Statement

Mark my words. Mark. My. Words.

Verily, it was disheartening to find that so many heathens out there not only posessed a Jamoosh Voodoo Doll, but were also doing some terrible things to it. Whilst I do appreciate those who came forward with honesty, unfortunately you cannot be spared. Listen to my words now and hear me later (yes, that will be the echo in your head), the Running Gods shall not look favorably upon those who would forsake one who has sacrificed much in their name. It has been foretold, the prophecy shall come to pass.

Light Headed

Today I spent time on the bike; a little cross training during the lunch hour if you will. But you really don't care too much about that. What you do care about is how awesome I looked in my new Redhook Brewing Cycling Jersey.

I know! Commence with the drool.

I realize that many of you are beside yourselves at this moment so the rest of this post will likely be jibberish. Nonetheless, I recently learned that runners can get the most out of their cycling by popping into a relatively easy gear and pedaling as quickly as possible - it's all about the leg turnover. Hence, that was my goal yesterday. Holy smokes - can you say light headed?

Listening to: Luisa's Bones - Crooked Fingers

Closing Argument: "And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who would attempt to poison and destroy my brothers." - Jules (Pulp Fiction)