Oooh, look kids, a blog named Pics of Me in Front of Stuff without pictures of the author in front of anything.
But I am glad you're here since I let my doman name lapse and now picsofmeinfrontofstuff.com is some kind of adult website. I could purchase the domain name again...for $69...
My blogging problems aside, I did manage to squeeze a second race out of my busy social calendar and tired feet. The Freehold Area Running Club (FARC) sponsors the Winter Race Series 5K in Michael J. Tighe Park the first 5 weeks of the year.
I was impressed it was the 30th annual such series. Interesting fact: FARC is also a Colombian Marxist-Leninist revolutionary guerilla organization. The Freehold FARC is a much less politically extreme group. Given Freehold FARC Winter Race Series 5K's regularity (weekly), vicinity (30 minute drive), relatively late start time (10 AM) and low price ($5) the pros greatly outweighed the cons (lack of t-shirt). January 6th was also significantly improved over January 1st because there I was not suffering from nausea, cold sweats, or headaches from any NYE festivities. The race itself was rather ordinary, just 2 loops of varying length around the park. I assumed most of the runners were members of the club or fellow New Years Resolutioners. There was one other participant from the Hangover 5K. He was easy to pick out because the best description for him I could use was a loud goober. Think long blonde hair, thinning on top with a blonde mustache (think natural blonde, unathletic Hulk Hogan) speaking in a manner I associate with Lenny from Of Mice and Men and the Abominable Snowman from Looney Tunes.
I'm going to run a 5K, George. I'm going to run it and finish it and drink some Gatorade at the end, George.
Baconlb and I had both noticed him at the Hangover 5K and I texted her immediately upon arrival at Michael J. Tighe Park to tell her I had seen the Goober. She warned me to keep a safe distance from him because he had crossed the finished line dripping with sweat (not unlike me), spitting (very unlike me), and with a mustache full of snot (completely unlike me). Naturally about halfway through the 5K, I caught up to him. I tried to pull away him to avoid his 'splash' zone but damned if he didn't keep pace...and then pass me and pull away during the last half mile.
Great, the Goober beat me. I am slower than out-of-shape Hulk Hogan.
Whatcha gonna do, BROTHER, when the Goober goes running by you?!
According to Baconlb he finished way ahead of me at the Hangover 5K as well. Even though I subtracted ~ 2 minutes off of my time from Race 1 to Race 2 the Goober still smoked me. Son of a Bitch.
I guess I need to get my ass on the treadmill.
I've been known to make goals that may or may not be feasible, possible, or even plausible. I like to think big, but sometimes I think too big, spread myself too thin, and accomplish nothing. You may or not may not have seen my goals for 2011. That was good sport, but words are wind. Yes, I love A Song of Fire and Ice, so what?!
This year's big, hairy audacious goal (BHAG) is to run 52 races of any length and type though probably predominantly 5Ks in 52 weeks. That's 52 races in a year for those of you who can't do the conversion. Given the time it takes to run a race and the cost to run then, I feel it's a pretty big, hairy, and audacious. Let's not forget the first 12 weeks and the last 4 weeks tend to be rather cold, there are usually a number of mercilessly hot ones even in NJ. Let's also not forget that I work full time and I'm also working on my PhD in chemistry. I have a lot on my plate and running is just filling it up more.
So if this was to happen at all, it had to start early. I could think of no earlier time than noon on New Year's Day. Well, I guess I could have done one of those midnight runs but I planned on keeping my streak of inebriated NYE's intact. It stretches back at least 10 year's now and I don't plan on ending it. Luckily, Baconlb is the best girlfriend a blogger/runner/chemist/PhD student could have and she was more than willing to watch me punish myself at noon on New Year's Day. She was both more sober than me and not committed to running anything. She had planned a surprise birthday party for my 31st birthday at theWestfield 5 mile Turkey Trot in the same location.
SURPRISE!
Look at all of those candles!
The picture was actually taken at The Office in Westfield following the race, but it was still my birthday and the best birthday party I have ever had so I'm going to include it. This is my blog and I do what I want.
Here's me feeding Don because I wanted to.
Both the Turkey Trot and the Hangover 5K guided us through the area surrounding Tamaques Reservation in Westfield, NJ.
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Westfield is where the rich folks live in Union County. Several of my real world job bosses live in Westfield. I don't live in Westfield but I aspire to. In regards to the running, both races started with what I am estimating to be 0.75 mile loop around the park about one and a half times. During the beginning of both times I wondered to myself if we would only be doing laps around the park. We did not. The courses wound their way through the lovely suburban neighborhoods. During both runs, I passed someone who had been injured and was lying on the ground while they were attended to by event staff. Both times I wore the same Waynesboro Football T-Shirt. (The coaching staff are Friends of PoMiFoS. I was invited to join the staff as 'Mental Toughness' Coach. The commute was too long so I had to decline.)
Go Indians!
The big Asian guy and the drum stick head band were only at the Turkey Trot. Note the special number Baconlb got me for the race on my 31st birthday!
Overall, I enjoyed running around the Tamaques Reservation area. Like most of Central NJ, the area is pretty flat which allows for quick times. I felt pretty good about my time considering the circumstances for both runs. The Turkey Trot was one of the longer runs I had attempted since the Tough Mudder more than a month prior. The Hangover 5K featured me with a hangover. While Baconlb waited for me at the finish line she heard about someone having trouble along the side of the course. She assumed it was me vomiting. Given the cold sweats and headache I had during the drive I can't blame her. The Hangover 5K was just one tiny step this year. Hopefully it continues with 51 more!
Last week I had just finished watching the Eagles lose to the Cowboys and the stench of disappointment and losing is choking me like a midnight green chicken bone. The Nick Foles Era may have started but it soured like the milk in my refrigerator during the Hurricane Sandy induced power outage. I looked into myself and questioned why I spent my afternoon watching them, eating pizza, and drinking beer. This isn’t where I want myself to be and I am not happy about how I spent this beautiful November afternoon. I should have been outside preparing for my next challenge. A month ago, I was worried about completing the grueling 12 mile challenge known as the Tough Mudder Tri-State. I had gone down that muddy road before. I looked back at completing my second Tough Mudder in Englishtown and I realized that preparing and completing a challenge like the Tough Mudder provides me with a indescribable feeling of pride. Go push yourself to your physical limits and come back and you’ll understand.
Look at that BAMF.
I may or may not have screamed freedom and charged down a hill in a kilt shortly after that picture was take.
Here is how the day started. I was an ad hoc member of Don’t Be a Dick in the Mud.
I’m the handsome devil in the gray shirt in the middle.
Here is how the day ended.
Still handsome, just with more of a mud colored shirt.
In between I ran, climbed up hills, over obstacles, and overall pushed myself to my physical limits.
We ran clean.
We ran dirty.
We made new friends with other Mudders.
We climbed over muddy obstacles.
We helped others climb over obstacles.
And we ran some more.
And through it all we persevered. The first time I wrote about the Tough Mudder, I waxed poetic about human spirit, shared purpose, and community. A year later, I realize these are events put onto raise money. Mud Runs rant and rave about bravery and mental toughness and altruism but these events are put on for all of us to get muddy and pretend we were in Seal Team Six. We pay a good amount of money for the experience not to mention the mud, bumps, scratches, and bruises. This time I also have more pictures to show how we looked doing it. Despite the cynical talk about the Tough Mudder being just a profit seeking venture, it makes money by making you look deep inside yourself to find that you are tough enough to complete it. We all paid a fairly large sum of money to determine if we possessed the constitution, the depth of faith, to go as far is as needed. Sadly, I lost my completion t-shirt as well as the online badge to show I finished. You’ll have to take my word and my digital photographs as evidence that I was tough enough.
And I’ll have to start getting ready for next year!
Ages ago, when the Earth was young and @Baconlb was just a girl with whom I exchanged emails about greek yogurt (Honey is the worst!) via Match.com we each made certain guarantees to one another. I promised her a lab coat with her name on it. On our first date I arrived with a disposable lab coat with her name written in sharpie on it. On our first Valentine's Day together she had earned a cloth version with her name stitched on the outside just like real scientists get.
Ask This Guy what kind of lab coats computer scientists, the second lowest form of scientist behind social scientiist.
Bacon lured in me with her sense of humor and promises of dinosaurs. She hooked me with her personality, smile...and her heiney.
However, there was always a lingering question of the dinosaurs.
Where were the dinosaurs?
I was promised dinosaurs!
And on hot, steamy day at the end of May I got them at Field Station Dinosaurs.
TRICERATOPS!!!!!!
You might not be able to tell from the picture, but the weather was hot and humid. It was weather imported directly from the Mesozoic Era with a hot sun beating down on us and a blanket of humidity to help make us extra uncomfortable.
We set out early in the morning to see dinosaurs brought into the present and I started sweating immediately. I'm sweating right now thinking about it.
But the heat and humidity were definitely not the only things to complain about. Seacacus is on exactly no one's short list of places to visit before they die. Aside from the dinosaurs there is the last train station in NJ before Penn Station along the Jersey Coastal line, Jersey Gardens Outlet Mall and... that's about it aside from parking lots. After Bacon and I parked we were accosted by a young man in a burgundy short asking us to give him $10 for parking.
His approach was essentially 'Hey, Dudes, did you like pay for parking?'
Bacon handed the man $10 so we could get away from the burning black top and we could see the dinosaurs. Getting into the actual park also involved just as poorly prepared ticket takers at the gate. C'mon, nerdy guy telling us you were working on getting a plan to get us all in quickly.
Shouldn't that have been done before you got us all in line? Gimme my damn Dinosaur passport.
And once we got through that, it was Dino Time!
Here I am doing my T-Rex impersonation.
Here's what a velociraptor really sounded like!
There was actually a sing stating Spielberg got it wrong. Mainly, based on velociraptor size. The sound has to be something they captured from a cartoon.
And based on my half-assed theme on what was mostly a half-assed place, here's a crooked video of the T-Rex being labeled incorrectly.
Who the Hell has ever heard of Quetzalcoatlus anyway? And that really summed up our day. We left sweaty, $50 poorer, and having wasted about an hour of our day to see a poorly constructed dinosaur park.
I didn't pick the name. I just tried to make the most of it.
My fellow Jalapeno Hotties and I paid a good bit of money, over $100, to
beat the hell out of ourselves over the course of 12 miles. From the the picture above, you can see it was a rough three and a half hours.
Here's me up close and personal after I got home from the race.
I searched through the majority of photos that Brightroom Photography posted on their website and there was not one where I wasn't looking at the ground as a I ran. At least I'm looking into the camera in these photos. I doubt the women who look at these photos think they might not look good. You all have a fan in me. You're all covered in mud and you look exhausted and HOT! Keep up the good work!
Is that weird?
Not sure, hut this definitely is.
In case you don't know what the Tough Mudder is, you should definitely check out their website. (The video that comes up, definitely gets me fired up.) So does this one. The Tough Mudder is The Warrior Dash's big, bully of a brother. It's more than 3x as long and about 10x as a mean.
You freeze your ass off at the beginning.
You get electrocuted by 10,000 volts at the end!
That wasn't me, but that's a very good representation of my experience. I caught a wire in the back of the head and definitely bounced my head off the ground. I thought I might have had a concussion or broken nose. At least my nose wasn't broken.
So that was the beginning and the end, but the middle....well, I'm not sure I can adequately describe the middle of the course itself. I ran 12 miles through it covered in mud, there is a good chance I just forgot some of it! A week later, my bumps and bruises are mostly gone. The memories are a little hazy. There definitely was a lot of mud and I know at one point I compared it to the Swamp of Sadness from the Never Ending Story. Luckily, I didn't give up like Atreyu's horse. God, that was a fucked up movie to be targeted at kids. There is no succumbing to the sadness at the Tough Mudder.
You can search the internet for how the marathon is a 'Triumph of the Human Spirit'. Check out some quotes about running 26.1 miles. Having only run a half-marathon, I can only half relate to what that means. Sure, there are races that are longer and more difficult. I suggest Born to Run by Christopher MacDougall if you want to hear about the people who do them. A marathon is the absolute farthest any portion of regular society will ever push themselves to go. It's linked to mythical celebration of victory in Ancient Greece and it's name is used to describe any long, difficult task that tests the will of its participants. On an individual basis, there is not an event that will test the will and spirit of the average person. (Since I can't swim very well, I won't include an Iron Man Triathlon because I assume I'm at least close to average).
The Tough Mudder on the other hand tests the individual as well as its participants as a group. If you tried finishing the Tough Mudder or a marathon without being in at least decent physical condition you'd probably fail. Unlike a marathon, unless you are an elite athlete, you are not going to be able to finish the Tough Mudder by yourself. A marathon will test your will, but if you just keep moving your feet you'll finish. However, climbing over the Berlin Walls, scaling the quarter-pipe known as Everest, climbing under the Devil's Beard, scaling the muddy hills of the Muddy Mile, or climbing through the Boa Constrictor is not possible without help from your fellow Mudders. Other Tough Mudders pushed and pulled me and I pushed and pulled fellow Tough Mudders over and through numerous obstacles that might not have been possible without each other. There is something special about helping both your teammates and people you don't know outside of climbing through a huge mud puddle through what could be compared to a gym class from Hell.
That's not something you get many other places. The Tough Mudder isn't about who finished first. The Tough Mudder is about everyone finishing! The event raises money for the Wounded Warrior Project and was designed by the British Special Forces. Before we were allowed on the course you take the Tough Mudder Pledge led by an MC who said Hoorah! a lot and also told us to take a knee.
Someone wrote on the comments on the photo page 'They had me at take a knee' and I can't help but agree. Flashbacks to football camp and the brotherhood that I felt in high school and college immediately ran through my head. I won't exaggerate and claim my fellow Tough Mudders are now my brothers and sisters, but for those three + hours there was a definite sense of shared purpose and community. As great as the sense of accomplishment was for me personally finishing, it felt just as good to know I helped other Tough Mudders complete their own journey.
Will I try the Tough Mudder again in 2012? I hope so. It won't be just for the group hug feeling I described above. There were 2 obstacles - rope drag and Funky Monkey Bars - I'd like to try over again because those were essentially individual obstacles that I could not finish. My effort and preparation are two things I can control and I'd like to prepare more and try those again. Maybe I could be one of those elite athletes. So look for more of these finisher badges in the near future.
Wawayanda is in northern NJ, not the north Jersey near New York City, but the geographical, actual northern New Jersey.
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That broken line cutting diagonally through the map is the NY-NJ border. And near that border is some beautiful scenery as promised.
Pics of Me in Front of Stuff's journey started out on the opposite side of this lake which probably has a name. Like most other or maybe all bodies of water, the lake also has a beach.
Fortunately, this beach was nothing like Seaside Heights and there was no Snookie or Situation to wreak havoc on the locals. It may have been a little cold for J-Wow and the rest of the Jersey Shore crew. It may have been a little too muddy for them as well since some of the snow from one of the first blizzards of the year had melted. It seems doubtful that many of the inhabitants of the Jersey Shore house handled mud well. Despite the wilderness some parts of New Jersey was unavoidable. Like many of the parks in the area Wawayanda State Park was once used for the iron industry. A large blast furnace still stands not far from the lake pictured above.
Sadly, there was also some urban sprawl dumped out in the woods, too.
Minus the junk that had been dumped out in the woods a long time ago Wawayanda was a beautiful state park on a sunny, warm winter day. Pics of Me in Front of Stuff followed some blue marked trails and managed not to get terribly lost in the woods. The Official GPS of Pics of Me in Front of Stuff was bought as a gift by the Official Mom of Pics of Me in Front of Stuff following a harrowing experience in the woods of central PA.
Pics of Me in Front of Stuff followed these and managed to get back to the Official Car of Pics of Me in Front of Stuff. Also, only photographs were taken and only footsteps left and maybe time was wasted. It was a good day to be outside.
With apologies to my Canadian and Pittsburgh readers, Pics of Me in Front of Stuff hates Sidney Crosby. Pics of Me in Front of Stuff hates Sid the Squid and his big over-inflated lips with a passion that burns deep the Official Soul of Pics of Me in Front of Stuff. There really is no explanation for it. It is just one of those things.
The part that is most confusing is that Pics of Me in Front of Stuff is not a hockey fan. Pics of Me in Front of Stuff is a fan of most of the sports Philadelphia has to offer but the Flyers are not among those teams. It might be related to the recent loss by the American Olympic Hockey team to the Canadians in the Gold Medal Game. Pics of Me in Front of Stuff feels a strong pride in the Official Home of Pics of Me in Front of Stuff whether it's the Official Hometown, Official State, or Official Country. Cindy Crosby went and scored the game winning goal in OT against Team USA so the correlation is pretty clear. The Bartner, a Pittsburgh sports fan, texted the Official Cell Phone of Pics of Me in Front of Stuff after the loss stating it was bittersweet because it was Crosby that scored. The Official Reply of Pics of Me in Front of Stuff was that he needs to get the fuck out of the Official Country of Pics of ME in Front of Stuff if there was anything sweet about Team USA losing. If only it was that simple. Pics of Me in Front of Stuff felt disdain for Squidney Crybaby even before Team Canada received their gold medals.
I won't lie and say I have not been a lifelong, hardcore Phillies fan, but I hopped on the bandwagon in 2005 well before the current successful run started to take flight in 2007. Besides I could not resist this guy for too long.
But this post is not about baseball in Philly or Pittsburgh, it is about a hockey game in New Jersey. The Prudential Center in Newark, New Jersey is home to the New Jersey Devils among other less successful sports franchises.
There is a hockey player in Championship Plaza and not a basketball player for a reason.
As a relatively recent resident of New Jersey I really want to try to cheer for someone from the state. All the teams with New York names, but New Jersey addresses are out for obvious reasons. For professional and major college sports that leaves Seton Hall basketball, Rutgers football, the Nets, and the Devils. Seton Hall basketball is the obvious choice as I am working on my PhD part time there. The Seton Hall Pirates have a rich history in basketball, but recently have been mediocre at best. Rutgers is a good choice because their football uniforms resemble my high school's and they have recently become competitive. The Rutgers-Penn State series is about to restart and I will not even pretend to cheer for the Scarlet Knights. The Nets are a possibility because if I cheer for them now and they become good I can say I was a fan when they were historically bad...before Lebron signs here because of Jay-Z. But seriously, they are historically bad. Finally, there is the Devils who play a sport I am indifferent towards but for which I had tickets.
Advantage Devils.
The game was important for playoff positioning with the Devils hoping to catch the Penguins, the defending Stanley Cup champions, in the NHL's Atlantic Division late in the season. The Devils have owned the Penguins this year and this could end up being a conference championship preview. Aside from all of that, the fans of opposing teams on the East Coast (i.e. Flyers, Rangers, Devils, etc.) hate Sidney Crosby much more than I do. Those circumstances should have created an electric atmosphere among the home fans on a Friday night. Unfortunately, there appears to be an extremely limited number of Devil's fans. An 'omigosh this is a little depressing' number of Devil's fans were at the game for a team that has multiple championships within the past 15 years and one of the best greatest goalies of all time in net.
Martin Brodeur is pretty good.
Why does no one in New Jersey seem to care?
Even though hardly anyone showed up, they still played the game. The game started off quickly with each team scoring a goal within the first 10 minutes of the first period. The scoring stopped through the rest of the next two periods. Marc-Andre Fleury, aside from the sissy name, is a pretty good goalie, too.
Fortunately the fighting frequency picked up.
Fighting for hockey fans is like wrecks for NASCAR fans; it's the real reason they watch. Or at least it's the real reason I watch on the infrequent times I do watch.
If not going to score goals, you might as well have a fight in front of the goal to show your frustration.
There also was a penalty shot which was videotaped poorly by yours truly.
In the third period, the Devils resumed scoring. The Penguins did not. The Devils won 3-1.
As for impressions of the game, several friends of Pics of Me in Front of Stuff told me that watching an NHL game live would make Pics of Me in Front of Stuff fall in love with the game. This was not true. The game was exciting and it was fun to be in the arena, but Pics of Me in Front of Stuff does not feel any stronger affection for hockey than prior to the game. Nor does a team based in New Jersey hold a special place in my heart. Baseball remains the top game to watch in person and football remains the top sport to watch on television. Hockey is in the mix with basketball and English Premier League soccer to watch on television. The Official Universe of Pics of Me in Front of stuff was not rocked by a trip to the...Rock.
CROSBY SUCKS!
Hello! You probably know me, but imaybe not. I don't take sports as seriously as I ued to. I have goals and if I remember to write about them you'll see when I accomplish them.
