10 Reasons Why You Should Cast Your Vote For "O Banana!" Instead of Other Fruits and Vegetables After Your Next Race

1) They're affordable!
2) There's no need to wash them before eating.
3) The taste is mild and agreeable to a wide range of people. Some find the acidity in citrus fruits to be a little strong.
4) They come pre-bundled in bunches that are easy for volunteers to handle.
5) Even if your volunteers are clumsy and spill a bunch of bananas, at least they don't go rolling off in different directions.
6) After the race the kids could try running around the soccer field yelling "BANG! BANG!" with kale in their hands . . . but it's just not the same.
7) The big K -- potassium, baby!
8) They have no "season," so they are readily available year-round.
9) No refrigeration needed!
10) We used all the strawberries to make daiquiris.

Paying the Price

Strolling through Target earlier this week, I got a good chuckle over seeing "running muscles" on sale in the men's athletic wear. If only fitness could be earned with a simple swipe of a credit card!

One of the truisms I've discovered about running is that you're only as good as your last run. No matter what you've done in the past, every run starts with a single step. Every race starts with the clock showing no time elapsed. Every week's log starts at zero miles accrued. When I lace them up and head out each morning, the mileage is a challenge all over again. Slogging through my summer runs, I find it difficult to believe that I was the same person that covered 26.2 exactly eight months ago, despite the finisher medal that remains in my possession.

With that said, I finally get around to the two items that I really wanted to post about today: First, I am making the transition to becoming a full-time morning runner. A.M. running simply fits in better with my work schedule now, and enjoying the cooler temps at sunrise is a nice perk. Second, with thirteen weeks remaining until Rock 'N' Roll San Antonio, I am entering the mileage escalation we lovingly call training. It's the price we pay for making race-day magic possible.

We'll find out this weekend if the body remembers how to handle a long run of 6 miles. Knowing RNRSA will really be more about fun than chasing a PR takes a lot of the pressure off, but I certainly don't want to go home thinking my 2:08 from the Flying Pig was a fluke!

Speaking of apparel shopping, I'm looking forward to the sales tax holiday this weekend. I'm ready to rid myself of a lot of old clothes and replace them with ones in smaller sizes. Now that's progress worth celebrating!

San Jacinto Battleground and USS Texas

Monument commemorating the battle which secured Texas independence and its reflection pool


The star on top is 570 feet off the ground. (Yes, it's a few feet taller than the Washington Monument in D.C.) Inside the base of the monument is a museum, and an elevator that takes visitors to an onservation deck near the top.


Looking south from the observation deck.


Looking west from the observation deck. The reflecting pool and Battleship Texas can clearly be seen. Not so clearly seen in this photo is the downtown Houston skyline off on the horizon.


Looking north from the observation deck.


Looking east from the observation deck. This section of the park is a marshland oasis surrounded by modern industry.


de Zavala cemetary, near the position of the Texan army at the start of the battle


Replica of "Twin Sisters" cannons gifted to the Texans by the people of Cincinnati prior to battle.



Battleship Texas, with the monument in the distance.

Armand Bayou Nature Center

We're going to have a ball connecting with nature today!


Redtail hawks being raised in captivity. The middle of an August day wasn't the smartest time to come visit, because all the wild animals were doing the smart thing and hiding from the sun!


That-a-way! When I got to the blind, there was a guy all dressed up and painted in camo. At first I thought he was a hunter until I realized that was staring down the barrel of a zoom lens and a tripod instead of a rifle.


American Beauty berries


On the boardwalk....

Maribelles 5K on the Bay

After arriving in Seabrook and parking under the Highway 146 bridge, I stepped out of my car and took my first breaths of the thin soup of air hanging over the coastline. It's definitely August on Galveston Bay; the sun and humidity were already in full control as the 7:30 start time of this morning's 5K approached.

I picked up my race number on the patio of Maribelles and had perhaps ten minutes to warm up. The starting line was marked on the adjacent road only by a dash of orange paint, so the casual observer might have thought the group of us standing around was a two-hundred-person outdoor aerobics class being held in front of a bar.
So when the pack started moving forward, I had to use my best guess as to where to start my watch.

Mile 1 / 8:50 -- Early in a race, it's natural to size up the competition. For example, I was debating in my head whether the lady in front of me would need a 34-inch or 36-inch inseam if she was wearing long pants instead of black spandex shorts. I didn't have too long to ponder the question as she pulled away after the first water stop.

Mile 2 / 9:10 -- This 5K course was an out-and-back along asphalt roads in Seabrook, with a turnaround at a park. There were no full street closures, so as I made the turnaround, I found myself looking at the tailgate of a red Ford F150 creeping along with the pack. I remarked to the guy running next to me, "I think if we catch it, we can hitch a ride to the finish?"

"This guy looks like he's annoyed by runners," came the reply. "We'd probably better just draft him."

Mile 3 / 9:49 -- I had tried pouring water on myself at the water stops. I had tried thinking cool Penguin thoughts. But perspiration refused to leave my clydesdale frame and I spent the final mile wishing could take off an invisible mylar blanket. So, of course, this is where I slow down enough for lady-pushing-stroller to pass me. On the positive side, I had enough in the tank for one more surge in the last quarter mile to pass a kid. Oh yes, that felt good indeed.

I stopped my watch at 28:51 as the finish line volunteer pulled off my bib tag. The official results have me at 29:06, which was good enough for a yet another middle-of-the-pack finish in my age group. There was no chip timing, and the course wasn't certified, but my eighteen dollars netted me a sleeveless cotton T-shirt with the race logo on the front and a back refreshingly free of corporate sponsors, as well as a bountiful after-race spread full of bananas, oranges, potato chips . . .

. . . pizza . . .


. . . and beer!


Chip timing and certified-course PRs can wait for another (cooler) day.

Cheers!

I fear that I may have a latent desire to join the competitive eating circuit. After seeing a recent trailer promo for the "Beer Hunter" card at the Alamo Drafthouse, my first reaction was "Let's go for it." Modeled after my campaign to eat an entire fast-food establishment's menu in March's "Tour de Sonic," I'll be attempting to sample as much of the beer menu as possible between now and mid-November. Just like Jerry in Spirit of the Marathon, I want to earn that T-shirt.

The count so far to date:

• a pint of Sam Adams Boston Lager during Hancock (It's better than the trailers suggest. Definitely another good look at the whole "superhero" thing)
  
• pints of Harp and Sierra Nevada Pale Ale during Step Brothers (Will Farrell's antics do get funnier after a couple of drinks, but there's certainly nothing wrong with waiting for this one as a cheap DVD rental.)
  
• bottle of Blue Moon during The Dark Knight (Excellent flick all around!)
  

It's a tough challenge, but someone has to step up and accept it.

Four down, twenty-six to go....

Same old whines, poured into new whineskins....

Strolling by an Apple Store on my lunch break today, I met a line about 20 people long. I asked one lady what they were doing waiting in front of the door. She confirmed that they were all queued up for the opportunity to buy the new iPhone.

It's been out for over a week, but obviously the new edition of the 3G iPhone still has consumers excited. Reviews make it sound nifty, but I'm fairly certain that I could never deal with a device that uses a "virtual keyboard" for text input. You'd have to drag me kicking and screaming into a world where keyboards weren't both QWERTY and tactile. At least it sounds like the actual voice call (remember those?) functions have been improved. Now if only this new model came with a function to help their new owners better practice the courtesy of cell phone silencing before theater or church....

157,444 miles later....

The tally so far this summer for the CR-V:

Steering rack #2 to replace the leaking original.
Battery #3, a Duralast Gold
Four new Bosch 7562 spark plugs
Four fresh quarts of Mobil 1 5W-30
Unifilter foam air filter cleaned and oiled

Other than the rack and last summer's replacement of the radiator, I'd say the "Blue Betty" is still holding together pretty well for an eight-year-old car.

Fuelish Behavior, part 2

Yesterday I blogged about long lines of drivers all atwitter about $3.75/gal gasoline. Well, I drove by the same station tonight. I guess the cars of the twittered all had their tanks filled yesterday, because the long lines were gone. I quickly found an available pump and topped off at a rate a penny lower.

I really shouldn't, but I feel a little smarter tonight.

Fuelish Behavior

A line of cars in the double-digits waiting for their chance at the pump. Is this picture from the gas crisis of the 1970s? No. Is this picture from the Hurricane Rita hysteria of 2005? No. Is this some crazy radio station morning show promotion? No.


No, these people are swarming this Chevron station for the privilege of paying $3.75 per gallon. I heard a lot of impatient honking as I pondered this scene. Granted, this is a rate about 15 to 20 cents cheaper than other stations in the area, but I can't help but wonder if these folks were able to compensate for the lost value of their time and, ironically, gas burned while idling in line.

What would we have thought if someone told us two years ago that $3.75 would soon be considered an exciting bargain for a gallon of 87 octane?