Conservative Pumpkin Chunkin, (Wo)Men In Black, and Sweet Sixteen

I noted on my Facebook page that Justin, Jarrod, and I attended and voted in our first Republican Presidential Caucus. I voted for Rick Santorum, and I even donated to his campaign. It was great to get the boys involved in the democratic process, but what was even cooler was the guy sitting in the background in the denim jacket.

His name is Greg Wolfe, and as I was seated next to him, I noticed he was wearing a cap that said, "1st Place Pumpkin Chunkin," so I asked him about it. Come to find out he was the 2011 national champion and he lives right down the street from me. I thought this way cool. Deborah wasn't as impressed. His winning chunkin is on The Discovery Channel, and his team chuncked a pumpkin 2,033 feet--that's almost 1/2 a mile!!!

___________________________________________________

I took Miranda to get her haircut, and after walking the mall for an hour, I turned on my iPod and started people watching. Occasionally, some girl would walk by and I would get a knock-me-over whiff of perfume. It kept happening over and over, and I kept thinking damn beotches, back away from the pump. Then I looked across from me at a table of 5 people all wearing black. At first I thought it was a morticians business meeting because of all the black clothing, but finally, I saw them passing a bottle of something from person to person and letting each person spray until they absorbed the scent.

So, if you were one of the women that walked by while I was thinking you were wearing too much perfume, I apologize. It was really the (wo)men in black crew testing alien exterminating sprays. Luckily, I survived...barely.

________________________________________________________

Miranda is sweet 16 now. Here she is with Deborah and Lexie. Mom told her to stick her boobs out for the picture. All you Mountain Range dudes that read my blog better know that the boobs are not for closer examination or consumption until Deborah says so. So admire Miranda from down the hall, and talk to her or hug her when you meet, but keep your hands on your own junk until further notice.

___________________________________________________

I'm still preparing for the Colorado Marathon. Today, I managed a 12 mile long run on the treadmill, and I was actually really proud of myself. 2 hours on a treadmill takes quite a bit of discipline. My record is 18 miles on a treadmill, and I promise that won't happen again any time soon. My coach ran 24 hours on a treadmill one day last year -- almost 100 miles. Of course, he is a little nuts.

Frame of Reference

You know, little kids sometimes have accidents during the night as they sleep, which means the sheets have to be changed and washed until the next time. So, when Lexie walked out of her room on Saturday and saw Deborah changing the sheets on her bed, Lexie just naturally asked, "Mommy, did you pee in the bed?"

After the laughing stopped, Deborah explained to Lexie that sleeping on clean sheets is another reason to change sheets on a bed that doesn't involve pee.

___________________________________________________

Deborah was on a roll on Saturday after changing the sheets, and she decided to tidy up some books on the bookshelf and get rid of some old paperwork. We(!) like our house and lifestyles, and although some nosey relatives might think the house has a "lived in" disheveled look, we think it's just fine. In other words, it doesn't really bother us that toys are scattered everywhere most days, or that my office is organized in stacks of papers and file folders.

So when Miranda walked into the master bedroom on Saturday and saw neatness, she naturally inquired as if it's never happened before, "Mom, did you clean something?"

After the laughing stopped, Deborah explained to Miranda that walking through a room without breaking a toe on a stack of books is another reason to tidy things up occasionally.

__________________________________________________

So I'm lying in bed with Deborah this morning talking about stuff. I started to kiss her and she said, "I've been getting these strange headaches." So, I stopped, got off her, and replied, "It's probably me."

Deborah said, "No. If it was you, on our wedding day I would have had a headache."

I responded, "You were just too busy throwing up to have a headache I guess."

Deborah said, "Well...yeah...but you weren't causing headaches."

"Uh huh. Probably not your best anecdotal response."

"No, it probably wasn't, but I haven't had my coffee yet."

"Nice boobs."

"Now, I've got a headache." "A bad headache."

_______________________________________________

Congratulations to my coach, David Clark, who endured constant rain and muddy trails in Texas to finish the Rocky Raccoon 100 miler in a little over 20 hours. He's an animal, and definitely walks-the-walk.

He was kind enough to send me my interval workout for today via text message. Thanks coach, but shouldn't we take a day off or so to recover? I didn't think so.



Superman's Rocky Raccoon 100 Miler

That's my coach, David Clark, and as I've noted before, Dave is an ultramarathoner. This weekend Dave will be running the Rocky Raccoon 100 mile race in Huntsville, Texas. As he ran me through my speed intervals today, Dave told me that his goal is to break 20 hours.

Dave's 41st birthday is also on Sunday, so if he finishes in exactly 20 hours, which will be at midnight, he will also get to celebrate his birthday at the finish line.

He also told me to keep this secret, and given my readership it'll probably remain a secret, but he's really targeting 100 miles in less than 18 hours. So, all you running readers out there, please go to Dave's page, and send runner's love for the big race.

_________________________________________________

I saw that the record is like 12 hours. TWELVE HOURS(!) to run 100 miles. Forgive my math skills, but I think 100 miles is like 4 marathons. So, this dude, Ian Sharman, ran 12:44:33 last year. That's like running 3:11 marathons back to back to back to back.

I'm speechless...

and, fat, old, and slow.

Frosty's Sweating

Frosty's Frozen Sweaty and Melting 10 mile race was completed on Saturday, and my goal was 1:45:00 (10:30/mile pace). I finished in 1:45:36 over a measured distance of 10.06 miles, which resulted in a 10:29/mile pace. I considered it a win and goal accomplished. Below is a breakdown of my pace during the race.

Mile 1: 9:51
Mile 2: 9:57
Mile 3: 10:06
Mile 4: 10:15
Mile 5: 10:20
Mile 6: 10:31
Mile 7: 10:45
Mile 8: 10:54
Mile 9: 11:00
Mile 10: 11:15
Last 338.42 ft: 10:54

Obviously, I haven't conquered the negative split concept.

Believe it or not, I was happy with Saturday's race. I basically achieved my goal, and Deborah was there to greet me at the finish line with a big hug, even though I was soaked sweaty and my face was covered in salt. That's love.

Deborah was wearing her new Texas A&M University hooded sweatshirt, which made me proud and happy, but because we haven't worked out quick boob access, she didn't flash me her victory boobs. Too bad.

My coach tells me it's time to begin increasing mileage, and I'm ready. Ready in the sense that my mind is ready to begin increasing mileage. My fat ass, on the other hand, may require more convincing. At this point, I'm at a loss as to why weight isn't falling off my frame. I've been watching my intake and I've working out hard. It seems like I should be down by about 20 lbs by now, but I'm still hovering around 260 lbs, which is obvious in the picture. I was going to see if I plateaued in 2007 at about the same weight, but I can't find my log book.

I'm going to use Deborah's advice and incorporate some weight training and spinning on non-running days to keep the calorie burn up. Hopefully, I can drop 20 or 30 lbs by May. If I don't, a sub 4 hour Colorado Marathon simply will not happen.

_______________________________________________________

Running and Conversing

During Rudolph's Revenge 10k and Frosty's Frozen 10 mile, I was behind girls that were chatting like they were on the phone. Not just a few words here or there, but detailed descriptions of Sally's new boyfriend's (blank)...and why Jen's skin can be so soft at 40...and how the the room's decor was calming during the 18 day labor before little Ulysses blessed her life.

It was so frickin annoying. Can't they at least act like this is hard? "Did you get water or Gatorade at the last aid station? Oh, me too. I like fruit-punch flavored unless it's made from a powder, but the lemon-lime is okay. The water tasted funky and had a little aftertaste. The volunteers were very friendly though, and did you see that girl's engagement ring? I could never wear those hair ties in the wind. Just too many tangles..."

In 2007, I ran with Carrie in the mountains, and she talked every step of the run. The best I could do was a few "yeah," "uh huh," and "uh uhs." I think it was stronger's way of letting me know where I stood on the conditioning ladder.

Before Christmas, I ran with a group from Life Time Fitness to look at Christmas Lights. My coach said, "you should come out. We have runner's of all abilities, and it will be fun." Only 7 runners showed up: two Ironman competitors, two ultramarathoners, two marathoners, and me. It was like a tempo run from hell keeping up, and I swear they weren't just talking during the run, they were singing frickin Christmas Carols.

I told Deborah that I'm buying an ipod.

_______________________________________________________

Bucko

I've been called Bubba all my life, but Deborah has taken to calling me "Bucko," as in "you think you know the answer, Bucko, but you don't have a clue," or "could you at least have printed out directions, Bucko?"

I kind of like being Bucko, so I'm officially changing my nickname to Bucko.

That's DrBucko to you, though.

Estes Christmas and Prostitution

I ask you, is this a runner's physique? Or, a middle-aged well-fed runner-in-my-dreams bod? 4 hour marathon my ass. I'll be lucky not to crack the asphalt during the Colorado Marathon. I recently meet some industry colleagues, and I was introduced as a "marathoner." Both of the colleagues were runners, and, in fact, both of my colleagues looked like distance runners. The expression on their face was priceless when they looked at me and thought about marathoning, and all I could say was, "I'm a Clydesdale," as if they couldn't tell. Onward...

The family spent Christmas in Estes Park. The girls--Lexie, Deborah, and Miranda--went a week before Christmas to enjoy time without the boys. Lexie is on the left, Deborah in the middle looking gorgeous, and Miranda on the right. They look happy, huh? After we arrived--"we" being the boys and I--there was a noticeable tension and change of expression in the house.

Before leaving for Estes Park, I stopped at Target to get a travel size shampoo. Everyday, I would get cleaned up, including shampooing my flowing locks of hair, and everyday, I would see my reflection in the mirror and wonder why my hair looked like it needed an oil change. After about 5 days, I looked at the bottle and realized that I had bought a travel size conditioner.

This is what I look like when Deborah calls my name.

The deer made several appearances at the house while we were in Estes Park. They would walk up to the back patio and look into the house. Deborah told me that the girls had walked around naked before we got to Estes, so I just assumed the deer wanted to check out the human female body while the girls lounged in their glass enclosed habitat. One morning, I got the nerve to open the back door and walk out on the patio.

One little deer came up and nibbled on my fingers. She must have thought that I looked grain-fed, so I could have some leftovers on my fingers. Either that or they thought I was Santa Claus. You know, bearded, fat, jolly, greasy hair, and all that.

Obviously, deer won't walk up and nibble human fingers unless someone has been feeding them, which is a big no-no. It was very difficult to resist throwing some corn out behind the house especially since at least one of the females looked pregnant. In Deborah's words, "Cold, pregnant, and hungry. My motherly instincts are telling me to feed them." Fortunately, we resisted temptation, which was incredibly difficult, and the deer wandered off. I ended up eating the corn.

After Christmas we returned to Denver, and on a quiet New Year's Eve night, Deborah and I watched a show on Showtime called "Gigolos." Neither of us were that impressed with the show, or the gigolos for that matter, but we keep watching episode after episode until midnight. During this, our conversation turned into a discussion of which of the two of us could make a living as a prostitute.

It put me in a bad spot cause ya don't want to tell your wife that she ain't got it goin on at 49, but on the other hand, you don't want to tell your wife that she would be a great ho. Looking at the pictures posted in this blog, it's pretty easy to conclude that Deborah would be the bread-winning prostitute between the two of us, and I would take care of her at home. I can hear it now, "I cooked a great dinner for you baby, and let me rub your feet after a long day at work. Or, would you rather I get you a nice warm douche?"

We digress into the weirdest conversations sometimes, but at least we're always laughing. Well, almost always.

Happy New Year!

Running (Slowly) Towards Aging

So I'm shopping for Christmas gifts, and I see Justin Bieber's Christmas CD. Miranda <3 Justin Bieber.

"Under the Mistletoe." Hmm. The picture kind of looks like he got caught doing something under the mistletoe. Anyway, I began to wonder how many photos they took to get the "Under the Mistletoe" cover look that Justin Bieber and Miranda wanted.

Which brings me back to me. I went racing last weekend, and ran Colorado Runner's Rudolph's Revenge 10k in a slow 1:02:48. It was actually 6.28 miles, so my watch had me averaging 9:59/mile. Finally, after years of trying, I got back to the 9 minute miles. Barely.

I was all happy and stuff, but yesterday, I say the picture from the race. That's what I look like? OMG, it's scary. I bet Justin Bieber, like any other girl, would never post a picture that, let's say, makes them look normal, bad, or in my case, old and scary.

But, here is DrBubba running his latest 10k in Littleton, Colorado on Saturday, December 17, 2011.

I'm huge.

And I'm old.

Look at that loose skin under my chin. I look like my dad except that he never had a beard. What's really bad is that I look like this after losing 20 lbs since October. No wonder Deborah (wife) wanted me to stop groping her. Ewww.

The weight I can continue to do something about, but the hound-dog skin around my face looks permanent. From here on out, I'm gonna have to start photoshopping my photos. I definitely don't want my wife to see me like this.

_______________________________________________

Next month on January, 21, 2012, I'll be running Colorado Runner's Frosty Frozen 10 mile race as part of my preparation for the Colorado Marathon in May. Let's hope I look smaller and more handsome in January. Either that or I'm getting my personal photographer to run along backwards in front of me and shoot 100 photos/mile. Out of 1000 pics, there has to one that makes me look Biesirable.

Daddy/Daughter Bonding

Although periodically I'm reminded that she's really my stepdaughter, I consider Lexie to be my daughter, and I treat her exactly the same as Justin and Jarrod. This morning Lexie was finishing her breakfast, and I held out my arms out for a big hug. Lexie looked at me with that "oh, no" look and said, "What?!"

I told her, "Lexie, I wanted to give you a hug and a kiss."

With that she turned to me, closed her eyes, held her head back, and opened up her arms, which granted me her consent to proceed with the kissing thing. I picked her up, gave her a big smooch on the forehead, and set her back down.

As she turned to walk back to her Lucky Charms, Lexie concluded, "I think moms give better kisses than dads."