For the love of Pete!

Compression shorts DO NOT a pair of biking shorts make!

I recently took a run up the Provo River Trail from the mouth of Provo Canyon, up three miles and back.

The trail attracts all sorts.

Long boarders who, after being banned and then allowed back on with restrictions, continue to board any damn way they please! Idiots.

Bikers--road and dirt.

Walkers--and isn't it the most special when the couples hold hands...

Roller bladers.

And dummies like me--runners.

This trip was special. The bikers (the ones on road bikes) are always getting all dressed up in some professional biking team get-up. The spandex shorts or bib and the jersey--all professing their dedication to a certain pro biker or team. I'm on Team Generic. Plain black shorts, but I do have a faux Giro d'Italia and an Empire Strikes Back jersey. And I look good in the pink jersey, let me tell you. My gut doesn't, but the rest of me does.

Anyways, biker shorts--you know, the tight spandex shorts--are to a biker what football pads are to a football player. They pad and cushion the butt.

More or less.

I rode a century bike ride (100+ miles) a few years back and from about mile 40 to the finish, I couldn't feel a thing from my waist down. And maybe that's the benefit the padding in the shorts provides.

So I'm running up the Provo River Trail and I get passed by a lady on a bike. And because most all the bike riders are wearing a kit that advertises something or someone, I was checking it out.

She, apparently, takes the Team Generic to the extreme in that she won't even buy no-name bike shorts. But she will go to Wal-Mart and pick up a pair of compression shorts.

And wear them over the top of her white undies that had flowers or polka-dots in every color of the rainbow. I know this because compression shorts are generally pretty thin. And very often sheer.

Where's my camera when I need it?!

BPA

No, not the stuff in plastic bottles that's caused quite a stir, bisphenol A.

It's a new self-help group I'm going to create.

Bitter Persons Anonymous.

I don't think we'll work on helping folks overcome bitterness. No, I think we'll focus on encouraging, harboring, even propagating feelings of bitterness and resentment.

If you'd like to become a pioneer member of this new self-help (help?) group, send an email to BPA@effortsinfutility.com and we'll get you hooked up. It'll be fun.

~

Actually, I was just browsing through my Abnormal Psychology book and came across a little blurb about self-help groups and it was asking the question: Too much of a good thing?

If referenced a notice that was posted in a Colorado church way back in 1990 (Muskowitz, 2001). It listed a weeks worth of support groups that would be using the building during the week. The schedule looked something like this:

Sunday
12:00 noon Cocaine Anonymous, main floor
5:30 p.m. Survivors of Incest, main floor
6:00 p.m. Al-Anon, 2nd floor
6:00 p.m. Alcoholics Anonymous, basement

Monday
5:30 p.m. Debtors Anonymous, basement
6:30 p.m. Codependents of Sex Addicts Anonymous, 2nd floor
7:00 p.m. Adult Children of Alcoholics, 2nd floor
8:00 p.m. Alcoholics Anonymous, basement
8:00 p.m. Al-Anon, 2nd floor
8:00 p.m. Alateen, basement
8:00 p.m. Cocaine Anonymous, main floor

Tuesday
8:00 p.m. Survivors of Incest Anonymous, basement

Wednesday
5:30 p.m. Sex & Love Addicts Anonymous, basement
7:30 p.m. Adult Children of Alcoholics, 2nd floor
8:00 p.m. Cocaine Anonymous, main floor

Thursday
7:00 p.m. Codependents of Sex Addicts Anonymous, 2nd floor
7:00 p.m. Women's Cocaine Anonymous, main floor

Friday
5:30 p.m. Sex & Love Addicts Anonymous, basement
5:45 p.m. Adult Overeaters Anonymous, 2nd floor
7:30 p.m. Codependents Anonymous, basement
7:30 p.m. Adult Children of Alcoholics, 2nd floor
8:00 p.m. Cocaine Anonymous, main floor

Saturday
10:00 a.m. Adult Children of Alcoholics, main floor
12:00 p.m. Self-Abusers Anonymous, 2nd floor

Think about it for a minute. If that was the schedule way back in the late 1900's, imagine what it would be now!

BPA would probably meet two or three nights a week and have a packed house.

AB negative

Blood. I have AB negative. Only 1/2% of the population share my blood type (the Red Cross says 1% of the US population has AB negative).

That makes me special.

I'm also a universal platelet donor. Me and the rest of the AB negative and AB positive blood types.

I donate platelets.

Does that make me even more cool in your book? Well, it should. And if you've got any cute, female friends in the neighborhood of 30 to 40, you should hook us up!

Just kidding.

I donated today. Today it was a breeze.

But it isn't always.

In my left arm I have one really good vein. It's a beauty. It's a vein that never fails to perform. My right arm, however, is wanting in the vein category. Or at least the folks at the Red Cross struggle with it. I've gone in three times over the past few months and they've poked and prodded and apologized, and poked and prodded some more only to hang their heads and beg for my forgiveness. Which I always give. I must--I keep coming back. They even sent me a card this last time expressing their true and sincere sorrow.

Anyways, I went in today expecting them to go the one vein route. Normally, with platelet donations, you've got a needle in one arm with the tube taking your blood out, processing and separating the stuff, and then pumping it back in via another tube and needle in the other arm. Well, they had just about given up on the in and out method and were going to use the in and out of the same vein thing that they really don't like to use unless they have to. I'm glad they (Bonnie) opted to give the two arm option the go ahead.

And I watched The Losers while the blood flowed. And the itch up on the outer edge of my right eyebrow? Couldn't do a thing about it. And the itch everywhere else I had an itch--couldn't do a thing. It might be a good idea for them to strap my arms down cause there were a couple of times I almost made the move. Something tells me doing that would hurt a bit.

Oh well.

I was gonna reward myself with a stop at the In-N-Out Burger that's right there, but I didn't. I took two packs of Nutter-Butters, a water, and two cranberry juices and fled the scene.

And I stopped off to pick up a lesson book at the distribution center. Pulling up to the LDS Distribution Center with Mötley Crüe blaring probably doesn't make the best impression, eh?

Does Vince Neil look like crap, or is just me? Who am I kidding... the whole band has gone to pot.

4.01

Alrighty then. Let's get this done!

Mid- to fore-foot strike, mid- to fore-foot strike. Proper form!

Hey, good song!

I wonder how long til the freeway construction eliminates this road as a running option? They've cut down a lot of the trees! If they've been doing all the road work at night, they sure have been quiet.

This song bites--skip. Remember to just delete the song when you get back.

Proper form!

Yep--the shoe is rubbing my instep the wrong way. I bet I could duct tape a solution. Tape under the arch on the insole and have it extend up a couple inches further--that ought to do the trick!

I think I'll do my double loop and get 5.5 miles out of this run.

Where does all this garbage come from? Do people just drive out here and unload it all in the ditch? Wouldn't it be just as easy to dump it in the garbage can at home?

Dog! It's barking and heading my way--is it gonna come after me? Probably not. Phew!

How far off the road would you like me to be, you moron?!

Two miles--and they're both sub-9!

How am I going to get the training and mileage in before Top of Utah? It's less than a month away! Holy Crap! Maybe I should walk on the treadmill for a couple of hours later tonight.

Wow! That's a lot of gravel in those rail cars. I wonder when FrontRunner is going to be done?

Seriously, you've got the whole road--why do you have to move all the way over to the side I'm on?

Am I heel striking? Mid-foot, mid-foot.

I wonder if the boy is looking for me? How many times will he have called before I get back? I bet he'll expect me to accommodate him tomorrow. Well, he's out of luck if that's what he's thinking.

I think I'd better head back to the house rather than picking up the extra 1.5 miles. Four is good. And that stitching rubbing my foot is really getting to be bothersome. Hurry home and fix the shoe.

Three miles! Yay me!

Is that a hawk? Sure is small if it is. Will it feel threatened if I look at it? If I look away will it come after me?

Hey look, it's Steve's house!

I'm going to have a nice blister when I get home, I just know it!

Ooooh--a snake! Dead snake.

Almost done. Should I go across the road and run on the trail? Nah--I've got to go a tenth of a mile or so to get my 4 in.

Holy Crap! This has got to be the longest tenth of a mile I've EVER run in my life!

Done. Finally. 4.01 miles. 8:58 average pace. I am the man!

Hurry and cross the road. Helloooooo-oooooooo. Dude! Can't you see me? I'm walking here.

Dang! And here comes another good song just as I finish! Oh well--it'll just have to wait 'til my next run to play.

I'm sitting at home, alone, sporting a migraine, again.

I am truly blessed.

Or cursed.

It's one of the two.

And American Fork Canyon is closed for a bit tomorrow on account of the Tour Of Utah but I can't find a time listed anywhere. I know it's posted on a sign at the mouth of the canyon, but I'd really like to know before I head up that way so's I don't get stuck waiting for an hour.

Given the alone and migraine stuff, I'm leaning towards cursed.

Further proof?

Went camping last night with my Addi. Setting up the tent I realized the tent fly is MIA. And then, about an hour into the sleepy-sleepy time, the mattress decided to develop a gaping hole.

That's OK, or so I tell myself. Both are due to be replaced anyways. Especially the tent.

Went to an Orem Owlz game tonight

Me and Addi with Mike. Thanks for the invite, Michael!

We left in the middle of the 7th. The Owlz were up 6 to 5 thanks to 6 runs in the 6th inning.

And just like that, when the game was getting good, we bailed.

And so it is in life--often times, when things start getting good, we bail. And miss out on all the good stuff.

New shoes!

I had the enviable opportunity tonight to purchase my youngest daughter a pair of school shoes. She wanted some DC shoes; and while I wasn't necessarily opposed to them, I wasn't really rooting for them either. I've already got one skater kid. All I need is for my baby to get pulled into all that.

We both ended up coming back from the shoe store with a pair of low-cut Converse Chuck Taylor All-Stars. She is officially "way cool!" in my book. Always was, actually.

Mt. Timpanogos--via the Aspen Grove trail

The hike to the top of Mount Timpanogos, which towers above the cities of Pleasant Grove, Lindon and Orem, UT, is arguably the most popular hike in the state. On Friday, 08/14/10, I went up the mountain for the first time by way of the Aspen Grove trail. Our plan was to spend the night at Emerald Lake so we packed accordingly--funny how a backpack packed for a single overnight trip weighs almost as much as one does for a two or three day hike...

Well, we got started just after 2:00 p.m. Friday afternoon. Due to my superior hiking skills, I left the other three in my dust within the first mile and arrived at Emerald Lake well ahead of them. I had also developed two blisters (that popped) well before arriving at the lake. Fortunately for me I forgot to bring extra socks so I had to wear the wet ones that were causing me grief both Friday and Saturday. (Note to self: buy a good pair of liner socks and don't forget a 2nd pair on the next hike!)

Anyways, the hike was a good one. The night at Emerald Lake was interesting. Biting bugs were aplenty, but really weren't a problem as long as the wind was blowing. I slept under the stars and don't have any bites as a result. I win. Didn't see any fireworks from the Perseid Meteor Shower either. I lose.

At 4:00 a.m. I was awakened by hikers working their way to the summit for the sunrise. Their flashlights along the trail up to the saddle reminded me of a string of Christmas lights. Later, when they had arrived at the peak, flashes from their cameras lit up the morning--it was quite the visual spectacle. I was astonished at the sheer numbers of people though. Looking up at the summit when the sun came up revealed more than a hundred persons lining the ridge.

We began our climb to the top at 7:30, reached the tin house by 9:30, and back at camp before 10:30. The broken blisters on both heels were barking at me the entire morning. I had plenty of ibuprofen, but left it at camp and didn't benefit from it at all until I remembered to take some about half way back to the car. One other thing I didn't benefit from was sunscreen. I'm a habitual sun-burner. I never fail to forget the sunscreen. Where is my mother when I need her?

Anyways, the thing that stood out to me from this hike was the number of mountain goats I saw. I think I probably saw more on this trip alone than on all the others combined! They were everywhere. There was one that was coming up the trail to the saddle as I was going down it. I pressed myself up against the rock to give it as much space as possible--it had sharp, pointy horns!--but it passed and looked at me like I was the threatening one.

Does anybody even read this?

I'm not suggesting that you should, but I am curious if, on the odd chance, somebody does peruse these mostly pointless ramblings.

The cool blogs are generally well written and draw the reader into the subject matter no matter how boring it might normally be. How do I get there? How do I do that?

I've written interesting blurbs before. Entertaining blurbs even.

~

Well, let's start with the most recent and interesting thing I've done. I hiked Mt. Timpanogos. 11,749 feet. Went up this time on the Aspen Grove trail and spent the night at Emerald Lake. Rather than taking a tent, I opted for a simple nylon tarp--and I didn't even really need it except for maybe a ground cover. No moon so the stars were very bright.

I was asked if I saw much of the Perseid meteor shower, to which I replied no. I recall waking up to a bright flash at some point during the night, but I can't really say that it was a meteor or maybe a dream. I did have some weird dreams that night before I actually got to sleep.

At about 4:00 a.m. I was again awakened by what seemed like a mass exodus. From my sleeping bag I had a clear view of the trail leading up to the saddle and what I was was actually rather cool--except for the racket: a steady stream of flashlights heading up the trail. They were making their way up to the summit for the sunrise. Just before sunrise we could look up to the summit and see what appeared to be hundreds of legs dangling over the edge.

Yeah, I'm bored telling this story. If I'm bored telling a story it's not going to work. I'll end now. Sorry folks.