Wednesday, October 31, 2007

Now what?

The Boston Red Sox... my Red Sox... are the WorldChampions once again. The Curse of the Final Out lasted, um, 83 years less than the one the Babe laid down on us.

This win is different than 2004, both for the team and for myself. For Red Sox Nation, 2004 will never be topped... we hadn't won in almost nine decades, we were coming off of arguably the most awful moment in my life (Aaron F-ing Boone's shot in 2003) and our last appearance was 1986 (Has anyone seen that Buckner video less than 18 trillion times?). But the topper was that we came back 3-0, against the New York Yankees, which turned out to be both the greatest comeback in sports history as well as its greatest choke job.

That championship healed more than a lifetime's worth of wounds for a city, a Nation and a team that had suffered through more down times than any other. Every pitch was life-or-death, every
single swing in the late innings made me want to throw up. The bloody sock was our battle flag, the Idiots were our heroes, the curse was broken.

This time around, it isn't the same. I'm not saying that this win isn't as sweet... it's just different. We have three years of wounds to heal, which doesn't compare at all; Damon signing with the Dark Side was probably the biggest hurt, but does anyone really care about that anymore? We're just happy to be able to run on his noodle 19 games a year now.

I think, for many reasons, this win will take longer to sink in. 2007 doesn't offer the same salvation that 2004 did. But, as each day passes, I start to get a little happier... the parade yesterday rocked, writing about it this morning gives my face a huge grin, watching the Papelbon Shuffle over and over will not get old and hearing those little whispers of "dynasty" sends my Sox heart a'leaping.

The Boston Red Sox - 2007 World Series Champions.

Thank you boys, thank you.


Here's the real problem, though. I've watched more games this year than any other, since this is the first full season I've lived in Boston. That means, for 7 months, I'm seeing about 6 games a week, reading daily, checking ESPN every 15 minutes and buying tickets whenever I can to see them at Fenway.

But now, the season's over. We're the champs. Free agency won't kick into high gear for a little while. What the heck am I supposed to do?

I've compiled a little list of things I'd now like to spend my free time on. Comment back - what will you guys be doing? Do you even care? Did you even read this far down? Ha...

1) Writing
- here, in my personal journal and hopefully doing some freelance stuff, too
2) Getting into the NFL season
- my favorite team is the Buffalo Bills. If we're lucky, they get 2 games aired out here, so it's tough to follow. But, now that I have some more time and we don't completely suck this year, I can devote more attention to the Bills.
3) Cleaning my room
- I didn't wash my game t-shirt for the last 7 games, plus the parade. What state do you think my room is in? Heck, I still have my AC unit in the window and it was 42 degrees this morning.
4) Planning a trip
- I need to get out of here. Maybe London for a long weekend?
5) Sitting, staring at the wall, thinking of more things to do...
- Yeah, I guess I didn't put too much thought into this list.

Final note - my grandmother passed away 10 days ago, so that's why I had the long layoff between posts. I do want to write about her (she was an incredible woman who deeply affected everyone she met), but right now, I haven't collected my thoughts yet.

Saturday, October 20, 2007

Man shopping...

No, I am not in the hunt for a new man. Or an old man. Or any man at all.

I just want to talk about shopping as a male in American society.

The other day, I was feeling kind of down. Probably because I was at work; it tends to have that affect, sometimes. Just a mild wave of depression. It happens occasionally when I get to thinking that my life has become a routine and I'm just doing the same thing day in, day out. I start to feel hemmed-in and trapped, in need of shaking things up a bit.

Unlike Dane Cook, I don't feel an urge to just dance it out...

Usually, what makes me feel better, is shopping.

I guess the natural guy reaction would be to kill something. Or rip a fart. Or do a sky-dump onto a car. Sure, all those things are a blast, but I prefer to save them for my Friday nights. And this was a Wednesday...

On hump days, I shop.

I took a long lunch break, went down the street to Urban Outfitters, tried a few things on, and wound up buying the pictured Paul Frank sweater (now 1/2 off!). Good times... I love sweaters and I love buying myself stuff. Works out all around.

Here's the thing, though... It's tough shopping as a guy. We just don't have the same options as you ladies do. Eighty percent of retail options cater strictly those the sans-penis crowd. For the most part, we guys are limited to a small corner of one of "your" retail stores or denied shopping options all together. For G-O-L-F stores (gentlemen only, ladies forbidden), we have:

1) Express Men
2) Brooks Brothers
3) Condom World

...and that's it.

I find that extremely annoying, because it cuts down my fashion options. Since all guys are shopping at the same eight stores, we need to adjust our style to fit into one of the following categories:

"I am a lemming and my girlfriend likes the cologne"
- Shops at AE, Abercrombie and Hollister. Feels need to advertise said companies by wearing sweat shirts that scream the stores' name and/or takes racial slurs to a new, wearable level. Still rocks cargo pants and distressed trucker hats.

"Do I set off your gay-dar?"
- Shops at H&M, but only at the one that actually has a men's section. Also wore Express Men until they closed closest location. Probably owns three skinny ties. I wind up here...

"24 is the new 50."
- Shops at Gap, Banana Republic and J. Crew... wears the same outfits his grandfather does, but only minus the crew socks. Wants you to think he enjoys sailing. (Okay, maybe I'm here, too)

"My mom still dresses me."
- Old Navy, TJ Maxx and Sears. 'nuff said.

Blah... I'm pretty frustrated with it all. I have (some) money. I like to look good. I really heart shoes, but I'm S.O.L. as a consumer. Yeah, you girls have to try on 40 pairs of jeans before you find one that fits, but at least you have the option of choice! You don't know how good you have it.

Of course, we don't really deserve it, either...

I was in the mall last week, just looking around and shopping with my sister. I saw this guy standing at one of the sweater tables. He was picking one up from the pile, trying it on, snapping a shot of himself with his cell phone, looking at it and then moving to the next option. In this manner, he was able to try on six shirts without having to move or look at a mirror.

No one else thought this was unusual.

Maybe having shopping options is a privilege, not a right? In which case, thanks to the sweater and cell guy, we haven't earned it.

Thursday, October 18, 2007

What I'm obsessed with (for now)...

Let's get one thing straight... I do not watch TV.

That's not to say I don't own one. I do... I think it cost $79.99 at Target my sophomore year of college - great way to put that scholarship money to use!

But my little picture box is barely able to call itself a television set. It's 19-inches (just like me, ba-dum-ching), has one button on the front and a remote that only works after slamming it onto the coffee table and muttering Inca curses. It's not so much there for picture-quality as it is for picture, period.

I do have cable... the intermediate package, actually (Hmm... intermediate package - that may be more accurate. But, uh, moving along...). But I only am willing to cough up the $105 a month for it because it means I get to watch every Sox game on NESN and gives me access to the sixteen different ESPNs that are out there: ESPN, ESPN2, Classic, Classicer, News-and-Sportscenter-when-ice-skating-is-on, the Ocho, the Spanish one, the Esperanto one... need I continue?

That, essentially, is the only TV I watch... I get to enjoy the Sox for maybe 7 months of the year and watch football highlights the rest of the time.

What I mean about not watching TV is that I don't watch any shows with any kind of regularity... I don't have time for the dramas, don't care about the reality shows, puke when anything on MTV comes on, don't watch as much news as I should. The only thing I follow is Lost and that's the result of becoming addicted by downloading episodes from iTunes to show off my video iPod (back when it was new and exciting, 60 gigs and not full).

I've never been a TV junky. I think, for that, you can blame my mom. We never got cable until 4 years after I moved out and, since we lived in rural NH, the only terrestrial channel we got without loads of static was ABC. So, ask me any TV-related question from the 90s not involved World News Tonight with Peter Jennings, and all you'll get in return is one big blank stare.

Since I don't watch the boob tube (hehe, boob), I'm always way behind any bar conversations about pop culture...

Me - "Hey, did anyone see the Friends finale the other week on TBS?"

Everyone else - Awkward silence, followed by them slowly shuffling toward the jukebox and away from me.

So, now that NBC's The Office is a hit and in its forth season, all my friends are talking about it, it won something called an Emmy or two, I just started watching. I figure it's about time, right?

I wound up buying the first season (6 episodes) on DVD two weeks ago and I watched them all in two days. Then, thanks to the gloriousness that is iTunes, I downloaded Season 2 in an hour and spent a Friday night holed up watching episode after episode. I'm now halfway through Season 3 and I can't get enough.

I've never seen the BBC original... but I can't imagine it being any funnier. Each of the main characters (Michael, Dwight, Jim and Pam) can carry episodes by themselves. The supporting cast (Kevin, Angela, Ryan the intern, Stanley, Phylis, Oscar and Toby) provide some of the best lines. The writing is edgy, in that the show discusses some really offensive and sensitive issues, but it strives first to be funny and second to make a point. You'd think that'd be a simple thing to do, right? Sadly, it's not... maybe that's why I don't watch TV.

Also, I find myself really caring about these characters for some weird reason. Yeah, it's just a sitcom, but I really want Jim and Pam to get together (they do, right? I kind of looked that one up), I hate seeing Michael mess up, I want Ryan to slap Kelly, etc... This show really gets to me. Perhaps it's a product of not watching TV and just being a naive sucker, but I think it's more than that. Solid writing all around...

I haven't seen anything from this season yet, but I have heard that the first four episodes were 1-hour long and dragged a bit. I hope that's not the case... if so, don't kill my buzz. I'll download it as soon as I'm done with the third !

Friday, October 12, 2007

"Fetch for whatever..."

For those of you who have been under a rock the last couple days, you might have missed the fact that one of the world's biggest bands just decided to give their music away for free.

Radiohead's 7th full-length album, "In Rainbows" is available on their website for whatever the consumer is willing to pay. The band is accepting donations/payments, but will allow the listener to not pay a single cent. Free choice, right?

So far, according to this Chicago Tribune article, 1.2 million people have downloaded "In Rainbows" in two days, making it one of the fastest (non?)selling albums of all time.


The band, which is already quite well-off, is not looking to make a statement or anything... It is planning to release an actual album, either late this year or early the next, with bonus materials, a nice box and higher-quality sound. (It's also a kind of giant middle-finger to its old label, EMI, which the band just a month or so ago after contract disputes.)

But, whether Radiohead likes it or not, the band is making a statement. It's a bunch of guys putting themselves and their art out there and subjecting the album to the most intense form of criticism possible - the almighty dollar. They put four years of work into this project and now it's out there for everyone with internet access to appreciate, sample, borrow, steal, etc...

I think, for fans of music of all kinds (whether you like Radiohead or not), it's up to us to respond well to this generous offer. Sure, you can pay nothing (or next-to-nothing) to get this record, but why not shell out a few bucks as a way of saying thank-you? I'm not suggesting paying $18.99 for the disc. After all, for every record sold in a store, the band only gets a buck or two of those profits. But why not shell out $5, less than the price of lunch or the same price as a medium latte, for four years of blood sweat and tears?

Thank the guys for saving you money and making beautiful music. If enough people do this, than maybe more bands will follow Radiohead's lead. Wouldn't that be terrific?

Okay, people, pay up!

And for those of you not convinced... "In Rainbows" frigging rocks. It's a delicate, ephemeral journey, highlighting the band's best skills - subtle hooks and inquisitive songwriting. I'll give it an A, if only for the price...

"I don't mind the weather..."

I don't mind the weather
I've got scarves and caps and sweaters

- Death Cab for Cutie, "Blacking Out the Friction"

You know it's fall when:

- October rolls around and the Sox are in the playoffs and the Yankees aren't.

- Ugg boots reappear from a four-month hiatus, not that anyone missed them.

- Leaves litter the sidewalk, ensuring that one runner per day blows out a knee sliding on the slippery suckers (Now that's some autumnal alliteration!).

- It's even harder to pry yourself off the mattress in the morning.

- I start playing the above song on repeat as I get dressed in the morning, slipping on a wool, or cashmere, or cotton, or whatever sweater and picking out a scarf to match.

For me, one of the simple joys of the season is the classic sweater and scarf combo. It looks good, feels good and just makes me happy.

I thought I'd share.

On a related note, my brother has taken to calling me "Seacrest."

(The photo, by the way, is one of the only ones of me wearing a sweater that I could access while at work. I'm the non-girl on the left... no comments about the color scheme, okay? It compliments my skin tone.)

My friends are getting famous...

So a trio of former co-workers of mine wrote and produced a video, which is now the top-rated video on

For those of you who are like me and too lazy to click over to another site after I had to beg you to visit this one, I'll post the video here.

DO NOT play this at work without headphones. If you get fired, it's not my fault...

Saturday, October 6, 2007

Don't you have something better to do on a Friday night?

I got pulled over last night...

...while I was riding my bike, no less.

I was riding home from work, a la 40-Year-Old Virgin (minus the basket), which is kind of lame, but it's a good way to stay in shape and the fastest way to get around Boston. I was heading down Mass Ave, which is a pretty busy street - four lanes of traffic, many busy bisecting streets, random bus stops and tons of drivers changing lanes without signaling. As I came up to one of those busy intersections, I saw an SUV coming towards me... the driver wasn't signaling, but it was pretty apparent he was planning on making a left-hand turn through traffic. Now I, knowing how Bostonians drive, assumed he was going to cut me off and braked.

I was right, and he did.

Slightly miffed, I pedaled on and almost ran over some idiot who was standing in the middle of the freakin' road.

"Stop! Stop! Pull here," the cop said pointing.

"Wha? Huh?" Were they pulling me over? What was this, some kind of joke?

The cop's partner, an overly aggressive woman in her early forties with a weather-beaten face and cropped blonde hair whipped out her pad.

"Where's your headlight? Do you have one?" She starts peering at my front handlebars with the intensity of a scientist examining a sperm sample.

Now, maybe it's just me, but it's fairly obvious if someone has a 50-watt, white light blinking on the front of their ride or if they're like me and don't. I think the lack of a small orb of blinding whiteness is a dead giveaway. But this officer apparently had to make a show of her inspection.

I will now recount our conversation... everything I said will be in regular type, but everything I should of said (and thought of later - I hate that!) will be in italics.

"No, ma'am, I don't have a light, as you can see."

"Well, you're supposed to. Where is it?"

"I haven't bought one yet."
"It was stolen. I reported it to you guys, but the dispatcher just laughed and told me to stop wasting his time. Funny how you guys care so much about it now..."

"Well, we're doing bike safety inspections here and you have to have a light in the City of Cambridge."

"Bike safety? You saw the guy that almost hit me at that intersection right there." - I point 20 feet behind me.
"Bike safety? Don't you have anything better to do on a Friday night with a home Sox game and drunk drivers running down puppies and old ladies in the crosswalks?"

"Hey! Are you trying to bust my chops here! Here I am, trying to read you the rules, and you're trying to bust my chops! Now I'm going to give you a ticket..." - here, Sgt. Safety pulls out her little pad and pencil and starts scribbling out a $20 fine.

"Whoa, no ma'am, I'm not busting your chops."
"Who the heck says 'busting chops?' What is this, 1950?"

"What's your name and address?"

I gave her my name and address.
What I should have given her was the finger, the name Daffy Duck and the address of the local women's shelter... she never bothered to ask for ID.

"Fine, look, I'm just telling you the rules. And you'll get a written warning."

"Thank you very much, ma'am."
"Good, 'cause we both know I wasn't going to pay that anyway."


Cops, they're always looking for something to do and someone to push around. Too bad they can't be concerned with actually trying to keep people safe, like making sure bikers don't get run over by reckless drivers or crash into cars that randomly swerve into the bike lanes.

Oh, and I should mention that, for the duration of our conversation, Sgt. Safety stood safely on the sidewalk. I remained stationary on the street, in the middle of traffic, with cars, trucks and buses whizzing by me. Now that's some bike safety!

Those random profile questions...

In case you're not religiously reading my bio, here's my answer to Blogger's latest inane question.

Q. "What was the best time you've ever had licking stamps?"

A. "Oh geez... I was an intern (and then an interim PR person) for Major League Baseball International. We had a mass mailing to do one of my first weeks there and I spent an entire day licking stamps and posting them... my tongue felt like sandpaper and was about as thick as a T-bone.

"Then, the office manager told me about the sponges I could use to wet the stamps for me.

"I cried."

(On a related note... I'm in the office today and have absolutely zero motivation to do anything even remotely productive.)

Manny being Manny....

Watched Game 2 of the 2007 ALDS last night... it was an instant classic that ended with my boy, Manny Ramirez, absolutely crushing a K-rod offering over the Monstah - nearly hitting it into the stadium lights.

Also, along the instant classic theme, Manny had the following to say about his performance:

"I'm one of the best hitters in the game."

"I haven't been right all year. But, I guess, when you don't feel good and you get hits, that's when you know you are a bad man."

"I am one of the best players in the game. I have confidence in myself, and I know my train doesn't stop here."

Ah, Manny... keep on being Manny. We wouldn't have it any other way.

PS - Also, big thanks to Danny Vinik! Nice catch, kid...

Friday, October 5, 2007

Chris Carrabba is killing my street cred...

I fancy myself to be a sort of music snob. I'm kind of proud of it, in fact. One of my (sad?) life's little pleasures is to hand someone my iPod and have them tell me one of the following:

A) "Wow! You have a ton of music!" (To which I nonchalantly toss off a "Oh, that, well, you should have seen it before I reorganized.)

B) "I've never heard of any of these bands." (To which, I always respond, "You must have completely crappy taste in music," but never out loud.)

C) "Wow! Your record collection is amazing!" (To which, I nod and ask what their latest purchase was and then we can bond over our shared delight in that disc and collective hatred of all things Snow Patrol.)

There are problems with my snobbishness, though. And not because it leaves people thinking I have a giant stick up my cornhole. That, I can live with.

No, the real problem is liking a band that you know is crappy, the trendily-tattooed, ironically-coiffed clerk at Newbury Comics knows is crappy, heck, even my mom knows is crappy. How are you supposed to maintain any sort of indie credibility with such obvious bad taste in your CD stacks?

I'm not talking about artists like, say, Justin Timberlake who are so-uncool-they're-cool-to-like. For those guys (I'd also include: Michael Jackson, Styx, Northern State and maybe Kelly Clarkson in this category), you're not cool if you think they're not cool but in a totally uncool sense, get it? And, let's face it, J-Tims is downright catchy and did put on one heck of a show back in August at the Garden. (Check out this clip... during the bridge, he starts to cover Ryan Adams. Yes, Ryan F-ing Adams.)

Back to the point, though. I'm talking about the artists that make "those of us with taste" recoil a bit... Britney, the Killers, Matchbox20, the Fray, John Mayer et al. Like a band in that category and you instantly drop down a couple notches with the people who know what's up.

This causes some problems. Like this week, for instance. Dashboard Confessional released its 4th full-length. And I wanted to buy it.

For those of you not familiar with Dashboard, it's basically the project of singer/songwriter Chris Carrabba. Carrabba's strained vocals, furiously strummed acoustic guitars and lyrics about lost love appeal mainly to 14-year-old girls. Oh, and dudes who like having sex with other dudes, as the joke goes.

So how am I, a self-respecting music aficionado, who listens to faithfully, reads Mojo, avoids pop radio and had hundreds of CDs organized alphabetically AND chronologically, supposed to walk into a record store and buy that album (on the day it comes out no less)?

Every time Dashboard comes out with a new record, I'm faced with that conundrum. The last time, I wound up buying three other discs (all of which were artsy, underground bands worth of hype and respect) and stuck the other in the middle. It made me feel better; the clerk couldn't judge me! Look what great taste I had! That Dashboard one was probably for my girlfriend or sister or maybe I was out of coasters for my DIY furniture?

But this time around, I couldn't do that again. A) because I'm broke B) because I sold my CD collection and don't really want to buy more discs and C) nothing else came out this week that I really wanted.

So, all Monday, I steeled my reserve as I prepared to walk into the store to *gasp* buy the album.

First, I thought about stealing it... but I don't steal and how embarrassing would that be to get caught with that record? It'd be like stealing a Sam's Choice bottle of soda from Wal-Mart.

I considered about giving cash to one of the homeless guys outside the store to get it for me, but Newbury Comics is right above a liquor store and I don't trust a crackhead to determine the finite differences between "MadDog 2020" and "Dashboard Confessional" or "Drinking it all down" and "Giving it to the person who gave me the money."

Also, I thought about maybe distracting the clerk by asking if they were going to the Minus the Bear show that week at the Middle East, or when Tokyo Police Club's full-length was due, but then I figured that minimizing my time and, hence, potential embarrassment would be a better idea.

Seriously, I thought about this all day. What else was I supposed to do? I was at work and all the internet and phones were down... (How the heck did people do anything before the Internet?)

But I was unable to think up a non-humiliating way to go about buying the CD myself. I just had to do it. I would have to walk in there, go to the rack as fast as possible and hand the disc and a credit card to the cashier and hope they didn't burst into a fit of giggling while I shamefully studied the gum stains on the carpet.

Listlessly, I surfed the web in front of SportsCenter that night. Even my resolve to live had tucked its tail between its legs, it was so ashamed of me. I was going to have to pay good money to get a CD that I'd probably like. Even knowing that I'd like it brought waves of nausea to my stomach and redness to my cheeks. Oh, the shame!

But then, I remembered that my month's subscription to had rolled over the week before. I had 40 downloads once again... and maybe, just maybe I'd be able to download the record. It was a long shot and I didn't have much hope - the major labels have been pretty slow to sign on with the website, which is okay because it gives their editors more space to tell me about the next all-girl, new wave band from Zimbabwe who combine a love of the Cure with references to pre-Pink Album Boris or some crap like that.

But then...

Right there on the front page...

Joy of joys! It was there! And I could download it without having to have any clerk stare me down, bringing my self-esteem crashing to the floor!

Thank God for the Internet...

Okay, so maybe it's all right to just enjoy something because you enjoy it. Music doesn't have to be about snobbery, even if it is kind of a sick pleasure to delight in that aspect. it should be about expressing personal choice and taste. I guess what's really important to remember that if you like it, then buy it.

Oh, and that my collection is so much better than yours.

Thursday, October 4, 2007

Why I run...

Allow me to pat myself on the back for just a second... this weekend, my running buddy Dan and I ran 26.2 miles in 4 hours and 40 minutes, completing the first full marathon of our lives.

Bravo, boys, bravo. "Come see how good I look."

I'd been meaning to write about running here for a while now, but kind of never got around to it. As you can see from the sidebar on the right (I'm pointing at it now - see?), one of my "current obsessions" was to run a marathon. Now, it's been updated for running my next one - time TBA.

I think one of the reasons I put off writing about running is that it's really an intensely personal experience. I know that sounds cliched or whatever, but it's true. When you run, you are the only one out there. You're not running against anyone, just yourself, your limits and your past times. You are the one hauling yourself out of bed in the morning or hitting the road late at night; you are the only one that's sore; you are the only one who knows if you could have done better or if you pushed your body harder and farther than ever. When you cut corners, you're only hurting yourself. When you succeed, you're the only one that gets the benefit.

It's hard to express those sort of sentiments - you kind of have to get out there and do it for yourself to really know.

But - for those of you who have the laptop open and your feet up, I'll try to put it into nice bullet points for your reading enjoyment before you get distracted by porn, TMZ or

1) I run because it clears my head
- It's true... running (or any exercise) releases endorphins. You can't help but feel good, even when you're puking on your shoes or your shorts have chaffed smoking red marks into your crotchal region. Seriously, though, it's a tremendous stress reliever... when I'm out there, I can pray, all of the day's stress just falls away and I can breathe again.

2) I run to challenge myself.
- I have life goals... some of them are big and will take years. Others, like some of the trips I want to take, require money. Running takes only a decent pair of shoes and the will to do it. Running a marathon was, at the same time, both the easiest and hardest goal I've ever set for myself. It was easy, because all I had to do was get out there and do it - the way was already set and planned for me. But when you're in that marathon, you've passed mile 19, you're coming up on four hours on the road and your legs feel like rubber pencils set on fire, that finish line may as well be 8,000 miles away.
But, on that final sprint to the end, where your feet don't touch the dusty ground because that last rush of adrenaline has picked you up and is carrying you towards the cheers of your loved ones, it goes back to being the easiest thing you've ever done. And that's a great feeling... in fact, that's reason number three!

3) I run for the feeling of the finish.
- Whether it's finishing the last stretch of a three-mile training run strong or the overwhelming rush of finishing your first marathon, that fullness of joy, that primal sense of accomplishment is a high unlike any other.
I can't even describe it. You just have to go out and do it for yourself.

4) I run for my health.
- Want to lose 10 pounds? Train for a long-distance race. 'nuff said.

5) I run because you don't.
- The "you" here doesn't mean "you, my reader," just some schmuck out there who's too lazy or out-of-shape to be able to do what I can do. Maybe it's a guy thing, but I take pride in doing it. I love passing people on the road. I like the challenge of keeping up with a stronger runner and I like out-distancing someone trying to keep up with me even better. Even a kid like me that's 5'7" and 155 pounds can be a beast when he puts on that running gear, grabs a water bottle and heads out the door to chew up the road and spit it out.

So, that, my friends is why I do it.

Want to come run with me?