After the ignominy of my last race, I decided it was time to give up any aspirations of mediocrity. It was time to accept and deal with the fact that, while I was an entertaining and engaging teammate, I was not going to be the scoring backbone of the team. While I was improving my times, the improvements were incremental, not exponential. And it seemed as though everyone else was improving their times rather more rapidly than myself. I was not going to letter in cross-country. I was not going to have a top-10 finish. I was, however, going to exploit the fact that I was shorter, stronger, well...squatter than the typical runner.
We had a couple more meets, including one at our home course, considered to be one of the toughest in the state. At that meet, I set a new PR, breaking 20 minutes for the first time, by quite a lot. I did not let this go to my head, however. I was firmly entrenched as the guy everyone wanted along when we walked the course, due to my unique ability to mock members of the other teams and their obvious physical flaws, but maybe not the one you wanted on the course when the meet was on the line. I was okay with this. Acceptance often leads to enhanced clarity, and my role was crystal clear. I was a cross-country screw-up. And I was having the most fun I'd ever had in a team sport.
One of our final meets of the year was at Cedar Falls. We took the bus up there, which took about an hour. Plenty of time for Carbo Coolers and jocularity. We arrived, disembarked from the bus, and went to walk the course. From what I can recall, it was a fairly wide-open course. There were many other teams there; Estherville was not one of them, unfortunately. (Their nickname was the Midgets, and any time we were at a meet with them, when our race was over we would go out onto the course, take off our shoes, kneel on them, and cheer wildly for any Estherville runner going by. We actually elicited a "Fuck off!" from one of them once.).
With the course walk complete, it was time to meander back to the starting line and prepare for the race. By 'prepare', I mean tell jokes, make fun of each other, and stretch out in a very desultory fashion. Soon, it came time to approach the starting line. The starter's pistol sounded and we were off.
I settled into the slow-yet-not-at-all-taxing pace which was the centerpiece of my race strategy, such as it was. I chugged stolidly along for the next three miles, enjoying the view and the cheers of the spectators. Ever since I had accepted that I was in no way, shape, or form competitive as a runner, I allowed myself to relax and enjoy the meets much more.
In a nonce, the finish chute hove into view. The chute, for those of you unfamiliar, is a space about five feet wide, delineated by ropes festooned with festive, multi-colored flags. It exists to maintain the finishing order of the runners so our information can be collected in an efficient manner. If we were cattle, it would be the pathway to our abbatoir. As was my wont, the sight of the finish line instilled in me additional vigor and speed. To this day, I remain convinced that, had there but been a way to keep the finish line some 15 or so meters ahead of me throughout the whole course, I could have been a world-class XC runner. Alas...
Thus rejuvenated, I commenced my mad dash for the chute. Another competitor seemed to have had the same idea, and we were approaching the finish line (which was, inexplicably, on the side of a hill) on a collision course. I continued barreling on, head down, the picture of athletic prowess. We were approaching the line from slightly different directions; our paths were slowly but inexorably converging. About 10 meters from the line, the kid seemed to come to the realization that I was in finishing mode and not to be denied. He reached back for one final burst of speed and sought to overtake me. He came abreast of me about two meters from the line. I looked up at him, realizing this situation could have only one possible outcome. His eyes widened as he apprehended what I intended to do. Which I promptly did; extending my right forearm, I sent him sprawling down the hill. I have no idea how many places I cost him, but I do know one thing.
I won.
I attended Homecoming a few weeks later with a group of cross-country runners. After the dance, we retired to someone's house to watch videos. Someone broke out the video of the Cedar Falls meet. Whoever recorded it was standing just off to the side of the finish line and had a stellar view of the incident. The kid went flying by, arms flailing. All the way off camera. Apparently, what I lacked in speed, stamina, and pace I more than made up for in forearm shivers. If they ever combine roller derby and cross-country running, I will have found my niche.
Thursday, April 19, 2012
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
Mea Culpa
It was recently pointed out to me that, in my last entry, I used profanity when I was neither 1) speaking as someone else, nor 2) speaking as myself when I was a child (because I was a profane motherfucker right up until about age 10). For this, please accept my profuse and abject apologies. I will not allow it to happen again. Sure, I could use the excuse that I was upset due to my candidate polling only slightly better than Herman Cain (or, for that matter, Harold Stassen), but I will not. Likewise, I could couch it as paying homage to Michele Bachmann, who swears like a longshoreman if the stories are to be believed. But I will not. I will take the high road. Henceforth, all of my writings will be so incredibly wholesome as to make "The Family Circus" look like Reservoir Dogs.
However, if you'll allow me to indulge myself for just a moment longer, here's something that probably only I think is interesting. Not to make light of the disorder, but do you suppose that if a very foulmouthed person had Tourette Syndrome, their coprolalia would be paradoxical? I'm envisioning something like this:
"Look at that motherfucking piece of shit cocksucking(GRACE! JOY! WwwwONDERMENT!)bastard!"
Just a thought I had.
Also, Paradoxical Tourette Syndrome would be a fantastic name for an album. So all of you struggling band members out there,,,,you're welcome.
However, if you'll allow me to indulge myself for just a moment longer, here's something that probably only I think is interesting. Not to make light of the disorder, but do you suppose that if a very foulmouthed person had Tourette Syndrome, their coprolalia would be paradoxical? I'm envisioning something like this:
"Look at that motherfucking piece of shit cocksucking(GRACE! JOY! WwwwONDERMENT!)bastard!"
Just a thought I had.
Also, Paradoxical Tourette Syndrome would be a fantastic name for an album. So all of you struggling band members out there,,,,you're welcome.
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
A-Caucusing We Will Go (Or, How in the Fuck Did We Get to be So Damned Small-Minded As a Society?)
As an American, I consider it my duty to take part in the electoral process as much as I can. Thus, with thoughts of political bliss and civil discourse running through my head, I went off to my precinct caucus.
In retrospect, I suppose I should have seen the Perry and Santorum campaign signs littering the sidewalks leading up to the elementary school where I caucus as a harbinger of things to come. I was greeted at the door by supporters of those two persons, as well as by a stout young man who had pledged allegiance to Newt, and several college-age hangers-on to the Ron Paul caboose. I discovered that three precincts were in the cafeteria, while four others, including mine, were meeting in the gym. Thither I went.
In the gym, surrounded by posters of stick people illustrating various gymnastic poses for the benefit of second graders, we got our instructions from Ralph, our precinct leader. We swiftly and unanimously voted to allow him to retain his position. As secretary, he proposed the pert young Floridian from the Paul campaign who was checking IDs; we had no issue with this. We then arose and spoke the Pledge of Allegiance in unison. This was the last thing upon which we agreed all night.
It was then time for the Parade of Flakes, AKA allowing someone to speak for each candidate. First off, Ralph asked if anyone was there to speak on behalf of Michele Bachmann. No one volunteered immediately; finally an older lady in heavy makeup stood and announced that she was going to support the Waterloo native and certified batshit insane harridan because "it was time for a woman in the White House and she couldn't do a worse job than the men". While I have no effective rejoinder to that argument, it isn't exactly one that inspires undying loyalty and fervent admiration. It was sort of the "Well, Glee is in reruns, so I guess I'll watch C-Span for a couple minutes" argument. It is the boiled peas of political rhetoric. Bland and insipid, but it'll do in a pinch.
Next up was Greg (I think; he mumbled his name as though it caused he and his family a great deal of shame). He was from New York and was unemployed (technically, whatever that means), and he thought Newt Gingrich was just swell. He couldn't tell us why, exactly. But he knew that Newt is a leader. And he has experience. Again, detail as to the exact nature of his experience was lacking. He would help the economy. Apparently by leading it through his experience. "Greg" then looked befuddled and sat down.
Then we had our good buddy Ralph. He talked about meeting Ron Paul back in the 80s when he was an actual Libertarian (okay, he didn't say 'actual'. He said that he met Ron Paul back when he ran as a Libertarian. In other words, when he had actual ideas and said something new and different). Ralph thought that Ron Paul (he kept referring to him as Dr. Paul instead of Congressman Paul or Rep Paul, as though that would more inspire us to support him. I thought this akin to referring to your proctologist as "Reverend" just because he also happens to have a D.Div...)
Anyhow, Ralph thought it was neat that Dr Paul voted against the wars in which we're currently embroiled. He also made the point that he was the only candidate who voted against the war. Also, he's a Libertarian and thinks freedom is super-duper. Unless, of course, you want to have certain civil freedoms. Then...well, Dr Paul just doesn't quite see eye-to-eye with you. But, in his defense, he is kinda short...
Batting cleanup was Glen (maybe...what is it with these people and glossing over their names?) from Dripping Springs, Texas. He was a very nice man who also happens to be a combat medic and veteran of two tours in Iraq. He has known Governor Perry for quite a number of years, and drove up to Iowa on his vacation (my condolences, Glen) to talk to us all about what a great guy he is. He missed his wife's birthday to be here with us, because his wife told him to go. Seems that his daughter was born nine days before he was deployed, and his wife reported to him that, of all the people who said they'd call or check in on her while Glen was deployed, only two did. One was Rick Perry. Glen then went on to say that what mattered to him was not what you said you could do, but what you had done. For instance, Governor Perry created over half of all jobs created in the US jobs in Texas while he was governor. All by himself! A bit of research shows that this number is somewhat misleading, but I was willing to give Glen the benefit of the doubt. But then he went on to talk about how they defunded Planned Parenthood. So all the abortions dried up. Not really... And how we, as Conservatives (not Republicans, in whose caucus I had thought I was participating) really should vote for someone with morals, with principles. I liked Glen, and could have almost gone along with him if I didn't think Rick Perry was kind of a weasel. A principled weasel, but a weasel nonetheless.
That would be a tough act to follow. However, Ponytail Guy for Santorum blew him out of the water. First, Ponytail Guy for Santorum (hereinafter abbreviated PGFS) addressed us as Conservatives (again with a capital 'C'). And told us that we should stop worrying about who's 'electable', and instead focus on who likes God the most. Now, I like God. He's a pretty awesome Supreme Being. But I don't really think that someone's relationship with Him is what most makes him (or her...sorry, heavily made-up lady for Bachmann!) presidential timber. PGFS then shared with us the story about Benjamin Franklin at the Constitutional Convention and how he finally decided that the sun carved on the President's chair was rising and not setting, and how this somehow indicated that God was on our side. I so wanted to share with him a quote from Franklin; apparently, he espoused rather a convenient view of organized religion: "I have ever let others enjoy their religious sentiments, without reflecting on them for those that appeared to me unsupportable and even absurd. All sects here, and we have a great variety, have experienced my good will in assisting them with subscriptions for building their new places of worship; and, as I never opposed any of their doctrines, I hope to go out of the world in peace with them all." While I am all for anyone and everyone having their own relationship with God, in no way does their espousal of one faith over another make them a better person or a better leader. In my book, anyway. PGFS said a bunch of other stuff, but I was busy talking with the earnest young Paul supporter next to me about the Deism of the Founding Fathers and tuned him out.
Next, a tattooed gentleman in a bivy sweater and holding a ridiculous Australian bush hat, stood up and took exception with PGFS's idea that electability should be a non-starter. Then some dolt in a thermal henley took exception with Bush Hat's exception. Then some bearded dude reminded us that, despite all our differences, we were all there because we didn't want Obama to be president anymore ("Unless we nominate Perry. Or Bachmann. Or Santorum, " I silently added). He was simultaneously applauded and shouted down. This struck me as odd. Then a gentleman in a Yankees cap stood up and announced that he was a trucker and that his colleagues were getting stopped in Minnesota and getting tickets because their loads weren't hitched right. I was at a loss as to how this related to anything we had discussed up to this point. Someone else pointed out that, even though Ron Paul was the only candidate to vote against the war, he was one of only three who would have had an opportunity to do so. Incidentally, this person did not refer to him as Dr. Paul. "Greg" and Glen came out and stood with PGFS in a rare show of solidarity. There they stood, the three (relatively clueless) amigos, watching as Ralph announced it was time to vote. No one spoke for Romney. No one was given an opportunity to speak for Huntsman, Roemer, Cain, or Karger. Being a perverse sort, I pointed this out to him, and told him that I had been willing to speak on behalf of Huntsman. He was abashed, but the ballots had already been collected. They asked for someone representing each campaign to certify the ballot count. What the hell? I told 'em I was there to represent Huntsman, Karger, Cain, et al. The disenfranchised. Ron Paul won with over half the votes (he got 25). Perry had 9, Santorum 6. Huntsman got 1 (mine). I was appalled at the number of misspellings; two of the three voters for Bachmann spelled her first name with two 'l's. The remaining one cast their vote for "Michele Bachman". That's right...of the three who voted for her, not one spelled her entire name right. I saw at least three spellings of "Santorum" (although I assume that PGFS spelled it right, at least). Someone voted for "Rick Parry"...
Where did we go wrong? When did we, as an electorate, become so mean and stupid and easily-led? I don't know quite what this means, but I know I don't like it...
As post script...
I wandered around to the other precincts after we were done. Turns out that I was the only person in the entire building who voted for Huntsman. Herman fucking Cain got two votes.
Update...as of now, Rick Santorum has a slight lead over Mitt Romney. Rick Santorum? Fuck this...I'm going to bed.
In retrospect, I suppose I should have seen the Perry and Santorum campaign signs littering the sidewalks leading up to the elementary school where I caucus as a harbinger of things to come. I was greeted at the door by supporters of those two persons, as well as by a stout young man who had pledged allegiance to Newt, and several college-age hangers-on to the Ron Paul caboose. I discovered that three precincts were in the cafeteria, while four others, including mine, were meeting in the gym. Thither I went.
In the gym, surrounded by posters of stick people illustrating various gymnastic poses for the benefit of second graders, we got our instructions from Ralph, our precinct leader. We swiftly and unanimously voted to allow him to retain his position. As secretary, he proposed the pert young Floridian from the Paul campaign who was checking IDs; we had no issue with this. We then arose and spoke the Pledge of Allegiance in unison. This was the last thing upon which we agreed all night.
It was then time for the Parade of Flakes, AKA allowing someone to speak for each candidate. First off, Ralph asked if anyone was there to speak on behalf of Michele Bachmann. No one volunteered immediately; finally an older lady in heavy makeup stood and announced that she was going to support the Waterloo native and certified batshit insane harridan because "it was time for a woman in the White House and she couldn't do a worse job than the men". While I have no effective rejoinder to that argument, it isn't exactly one that inspires undying loyalty and fervent admiration. It was sort of the "Well, Glee is in reruns, so I guess I'll watch C-Span for a couple minutes" argument. It is the boiled peas of political rhetoric. Bland and insipid, but it'll do in a pinch.
Next up was Greg (I think; he mumbled his name as though it caused he and his family a great deal of shame). He was from New York and was unemployed (technically, whatever that means), and he thought Newt Gingrich was just swell. He couldn't tell us why, exactly. But he knew that Newt is a leader. And he has experience. Again, detail as to the exact nature of his experience was lacking. He would help the economy. Apparently by leading it through his experience. "Greg" then looked befuddled and sat down.
Then we had our good buddy Ralph. He talked about meeting Ron Paul back in the 80s when he was an actual Libertarian (okay, he didn't say 'actual'. He said that he met Ron Paul back when he ran as a Libertarian. In other words, when he had actual ideas and said something new and different). Ralph thought that Ron Paul (he kept referring to him as Dr. Paul instead of Congressman Paul or Rep Paul, as though that would more inspire us to support him. I thought this akin to referring to your proctologist as "Reverend" just because he also happens to have a D.Div...)
Anyhow, Ralph thought it was neat that Dr Paul voted against the wars in which we're currently embroiled. He also made the point that he was the only candidate who voted against the war. Also, he's a Libertarian and thinks freedom is super-duper. Unless, of course, you want to have certain civil freedoms. Then...well, Dr Paul just doesn't quite see eye-to-eye with you. But, in his defense, he is kinda short...
Batting cleanup was Glen (maybe...what is it with these people and glossing over their names?) from Dripping Springs, Texas. He was a very nice man who also happens to be a combat medic and veteran of two tours in Iraq. He has known Governor Perry for quite a number of years, and drove up to Iowa on his vacation (my condolences, Glen) to talk to us all about what a great guy he is. He missed his wife's birthday to be here with us, because his wife told him to go. Seems that his daughter was born nine days before he was deployed, and his wife reported to him that, of all the people who said they'd call or check in on her while Glen was deployed, only two did. One was Rick Perry. Glen then went on to say that what mattered to him was not what you said you could do, but what you had done. For instance, Governor Perry created over half of all jobs created in the US jobs in Texas while he was governor. All by himself! A bit of research shows that this number is somewhat misleading, but I was willing to give Glen the benefit of the doubt. But then he went on to talk about how they defunded Planned Parenthood. So all the abortions dried up. Not really... And how we, as Conservatives (not Republicans, in whose caucus I had thought I was participating) really should vote for someone with morals, with principles. I liked Glen, and could have almost gone along with him if I didn't think Rick Perry was kind of a weasel. A principled weasel, but a weasel nonetheless.
That would be a tough act to follow. However, Ponytail Guy for Santorum blew him out of the water. First, Ponytail Guy for Santorum (hereinafter abbreviated PGFS) addressed us as Conservatives (again with a capital 'C'). And told us that we should stop worrying about who's 'electable', and instead focus on who likes God the most. Now, I like God. He's a pretty awesome Supreme Being. But I don't really think that someone's relationship with Him is what most makes him (or her...sorry, heavily made-up lady for Bachmann!) presidential timber. PGFS then shared with us the story about Benjamin Franklin at the Constitutional Convention and how he finally decided that the sun carved on the President's chair was rising and not setting, and how this somehow indicated that God was on our side. I so wanted to share with him a quote from Franklin; apparently, he espoused rather a convenient view of organized religion: "I have ever let others enjoy their religious sentiments, without reflecting on them for those that appeared to me unsupportable and even absurd. All sects here, and we have a great variety, have experienced my good will in assisting them with subscriptions for building their new places of worship; and, as I never opposed any of their doctrines, I hope to go out of the world in peace with them all." While I am all for anyone and everyone having their own relationship with God, in no way does their espousal of one faith over another make them a better person or a better leader. In my book, anyway. PGFS said a bunch of other stuff, but I was busy talking with the earnest young Paul supporter next to me about the Deism of the Founding Fathers and tuned him out.
Next, a tattooed gentleman in a bivy sweater and holding a ridiculous Australian bush hat, stood up and took exception with PGFS's idea that electability should be a non-starter. Then some dolt in a thermal henley took exception with Bush Hat's exception. Then some bearded dude reminded us that, despite all our differences, we were all there because we didn't want Obama to be president anymore ("Unless we nominate Perry. Or Bachmann. Or Santorum, " I silently added). He was simultaneously applauded and shouted down. This struck me as odd. Then a gentleman in a Yankees cap stood up and announced that he was a trucker and that his colleagues were getting stopped in Minnesota and getting tickets because their loads weren't hitched right. I was at a loss as to how this related to anything we had discussed up to this point. Someone else pointed out that, even though Ron Paul was the only candidate to vote against the war, he was one of only three who would have had an opportunity to do so. Incidentally, this person did not refer to him as Dr. Paul. "Greg" and Glen came out and stood with PGFS in a rare show of solidarity. There they stood, the three (relatively clueless) amigos, watching as Ralph announced it was time to vote. No one spoke for Romney. No one was given an opportunity to speak for Huntsman, Roemer, Cain, or Karger. Being a perverse sort, I pointed this out to him, and told him that I had been willing to speak on behalf of Huntsman. He was abashed, but the ballots had already been collected. They asked for someone representing each campaign to certify the ballot count. What the hell? I told 'em I was there to represent Huntsman, Karger, Cain, et al. The disenfranchised. Ron Paul won with over half the votes (he got 25). Perry had 9, Santorum 6. Huntsman got 1 (mine). I was appalled at the number of misspellings; two of the three voters for Bachmann spelled her first name with two 'l's. The remaining one cast their vote for "Michele Bachman". That's right...of the three who voted for her, not one spelled her entire name right. I saw at least three spellings of "Santorum" (although I assume that PGFS spelled it right, at least). Someone voted for "Rick Parry"...
Where did we go wrong? When did we, as an electorate, become so mean and stupid and easily-led? I don't know quite what this means, but I know I don't like it...
As post script...
I wandered around to the other precincts after we were done. Turns out that I was the only person in the entire building who voted for Huntsman. Herman fucking Cain got two votes.
Update...as of now, Rick Santorum has a slight lead over Mitt Romney. Rick Santorum? Fuck this...I'm going to bed.
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