Who Brought the Beach Ball?

Sorry I’ve been out of commission all week. I just flew in from Pakistan….and, boy, are my arms tired!

I can’t tell you what I was doing there. I promised important folks that I’d keep my lips SEALed. I can tell you that I learned how long it takes to slowly melt a person from the ground up. About 40 minutes.

I can also tell you that the Call of Duty folks have nothing to fear from the major news organization’s war game animations. Have you seen those mission simulations they are playing on ABC, NBC, CBS, et al? I didn’t think anyone still operated a Commodore 64 or Tandy 1000 computer but, there it was on national TV. Eight bits of power in action! Er, no thanks, I’ll stick with Qbert.

I think my favorite moment last Sunday, as I settled down in my bunk somewhere in the Arabian, was watching the celebration in the U.S. We sure can celebrate with the best of them. As a rule, we don’t like effigy burning. However, we are not opposed to telephone pole shimmying and beach ball bopping.



Did you see the beach ball? Seriously, LOVE. THIS. Only in America does someone head out the door to join a celebration over the death of a world terrorist and think to themselves: wait, let me grab my beach ball first. I mean, one wasn’t just lying there in the street. And most people don’t have them already inflated and sitting around in their living room. No, I’m thinking that someone got all jazzed up, put on their jacket and shoes, and realized something was missing. Death of public enemy #1? Check. Cab money to the White House? Check. Few dollars extra in case my hooting and hollering requires a Taco Bell run later? Check. Okay, set to go….except, oh shit, I almost forgot the beach ball! I can blow it up on the way.

Have the terrorists won? If we still have the desire and foresight to inflate brightly colored, rainbow-striped plastic balls on the way to a death celebration, I’m thinking No.

This is a running blog so it is incumbent upon me to tie this into running somehow. Luckily enough, I’m up for the challenge. Last week, I unveiled my Hip, Modern Half Marathon Time Trial. It seemed well-received. Most of you would also like the half marathon distance adjusted back a few miles to make PR-setting a little easier. I believe public consensus is congealing around this goal like so much burnt tissue and bone. (BOOM! Tie in!) But, I’ve found a way to make it even more Hipper and Moderner.

I usually do some mile repeats during the week…maybe some 3 or 4 X 1600 meters. Ever do 3 x Aircraft Carrier? It’s not as easy as it sounds. Those things are looong and gusty. And God forbid 'things' are being tossed overboard at the time. Ugh, obstacles! Holy Carl Vinson, I was exhausted.

Yesterday, I managed a hipper, moderner half marathon time trial of 9.5 miles @ 6:40 pace. This was a slight step back from the 9 miles @ 6:38 pace last week but still right on race goal pace. Plus, considering all the dead weight dragging and beach ball bopping from earlier in the week, my quads were shot. Death celebrations are never good for speed work. I believe Galloway has a chapter about that in his last book.

Don’t put away the beach balls just yet. It’s Mother’s Day on Sunday. Moms rarely like burnt effigies but they seem appreciative of a friendly game of beach ball bopping kept at a safe distance from the fine china and dinnerware. If you are a Mom, Happy Mother’s Day! If you have a Mom, Happy Mother’s Day! Otherwise, I hope Ian has a nice Sunday.

Now, get out there and SEALabrate you fools! (I know I have already….but you didn’t hear that from me.)

Happy trails.
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Things have been busy lately. I haven’t made the rounds to catch up with all of you. I will soon. Ever been “debriefed”? Apparently, it’s a long process.
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Btw, baseball games feature heavy beach ball bopping. NASCAR, besides drunken, toothless hillbillies, features plenty of midriff muffin tops boppin' beach balls. We recently learned dead terrorists inspire beach ball bopping. Why not marathons? I rarely see a beach ball being bopped around the crowd during a race. Are we not beach ball worthy?