Hip To Be Square

So how do you follow up a landmark flatulence post? Judging by the response, I’m not the only one finding great hilarity in bodily secretions. Next up: barfing? No?? Nah.

The only way to move forward is to relax and let my chi flow naturally. This, after all, is what I am learning in Chi Running. So, relaxing, deep breathes…fart post leads me to…chi flowing…chi flowing…Huey Lewis and the News.

Okay, not where I expected to be (and certainly not flattering to the band itself) but, hey, chi lands where it lands. Don’t fight it.**

My cable company has been offering free footage from a 1987 Huey concert as part of their package services. Much to my wife’s dismay, I've been watching it. And enjoying every bit of it. Feathered hair, Jordache jeans, harmonicas, hi-top sneakers, whats not to love?

I know, I know, you’re asking yourself, 'Nitmos, how can I get my cable company to offer this concert?' Hey, you’ll need to ask for yourself. I’m not a miracle worker.

I’m in full throw back mode watching this spectacle unfold before me. All the hits from the Sports album. I’m transported back to the mid-80’s, cutting my lawn, wearing headphones and a Sony Walkman. Yes, heaven on earth. (ed. note: a Sony Walkman was a devise that played tapes and considered “mobile” at the time. It, in fact, was considerably more mobile than the turn table and gramophone my parents must have used when cutting their lawn.)

The Heart of Rock ‘n Roll
I Want a New Drug
Stuck on You
Power of Love (yes, from the Back to the Future soundtrack)
Workin’ for a Livin’
Hip to Be Square

The hits come rolling out. These guys aren't cool anymore? What happened? I was saving a concert t-shirt to pass along to my kids. You know, kind of like a 1960's Dad passing along his Rolling Stones shirt to the next generation…except the shirt is Huey Lewis and the kids couldn't give a shit. And, frankly, I wore it so much that there are gigantic holes in it. It’s now held together only by the interlocking arms of the clothing bacteria that have settled in and called it home. My wife hates this shirt. Its since been retired to a storage trunk in my basement resting comfortably with my parachute pants waiting for the day when both are cool again.

When you are an awkward teenager, Huey Lewis was the perfect pop star. Non-threatening. Not particularly handsome. And he looked like your dad. Or, at least, your friend’s dad. He was Hip to Be Square. And despite the pimples, bowl haircut, and forearms that were freakishly larger than my weak biceps, I was Hip to Be Square too. Or so I thought. Blissful ignorance is not a bad way to go about your life, after all.

And now comes word that Huey Lewis is penning and performing the title song to the new Seth Rogan (Knocked Up, Superbad) film Pineapple Express.

Brace yourself, folks. It’s going to be Hip to Be Square, again.

Where’s my key to that storage truck?

** I recognize the complete misuse of "chi" here. In no way does Chi Running suggest that by meditating on unsavory topics you will become focused on 80’s era bubble gum pop bands. If you want to reconnect with the inner Go-Go’s inside of you, I suggest meditating on 5 pink leotarded water skiing women.


Some maintenance updates here:

First, many thanks to Vanilla @ Half-Fast for allowing me to unleash sarcastic comments on his blog. I’m glad he’s realized it was in good fun and I’m not a Class A a-hole. Maybe Class B, but definitely not Class A. Check out his frequently funny blog on your way out of here. You can also leave your garbage there. Think of it as a virtual web rest stop.

This is a running blog – not a farting or Huey Lewis blog – so I should provide an update from the weekend. I knocked out my weekend log run. It’s the farthest I've gone in two months and the last few miles were a struggle. But, they’re done now. My calves can yell at me all they want. I’m the boss and they go where I say. After the run, they rebelled for a day or so but have since come around.

19.0 miles
2:21:12 time
7:26 pace

This weekend, I’ll cut my LR back to 16 miles.

Five weeks to Boston.

Happy trails.