Aside from assorted roadkill, the things I see most often along the road while running are banana peels.
The banana is a great snack for drivers: a piece of fruit encased in a disposable wrapper with a built in handle. It’s not a great idea to let a banana peel fester in your car, even for a few hours, so many of them go out the car window.
I think motorists who throw garbage out their car window are dirtbags, but something biodegradable? That’s not so bad — but folks, can we please try and pitch them off the pavement?
There are two reasons for this: the first and most obvious is the hazard they present to pedestrians, because everyone knows that people slip on banana peels. The other is that I suspect things like apple cores and banana peels may be attractive to critters. Could this be related to the roadkill? Very possibly.
Tuesday was a blustery day, so much so that I was nearly knocked off my feet by a giant shoe.
An oversized Dutch clog, part of Albany’s Sculpture in the Street project, was swept up by the wind and tumbled across the sidewalk, coming just inches from taking out my legs. Imagine that conversation in the emergency room.
“So you were knocked down by a shoe?”
“A clog. A giant clog.”
“A giant clog?”
“Yes, a Dutch clog. A big one. Large enough to take a bath in.”
And this is when the doctor would discreetly ask for me to be moved to the mental health unit.
There is no shortage of interesting conversation in the emergency room.
When I lived in Albany we had no garage or storage shed, so the lawnmower needed to be carried up and down the rickety old basement steps to the yard. One day I slipped on the steps; I fell on my ass and the lawnmower fell on my knee.
In the ER, where I recieved five stitches, the doctor questioned me about the lawnmower incident.
“You were carrying the lawnmower down the stairs?”
“Was it running?”
OK, I’m not smart enough to be a doctor, but I am smart enough to know if someone’s carrying a lawnmower it is probably not running. But he was just doing his job. They keep track of all this stuff and my ridiculous mishap ended up in that year’s lawnmower accident statistics.
I see a lot of people with those 13.1 stickers on the back of their cars, indicating that they’ve run a half-marathon. Whenever I see one I think, “Oh, you ran a half marathon. What, you couldn’t handle a whole marathon?” For me, 13.1 was the easy half.
Look, a 13.1 mile race is not for lightweights, but is it bumper sticker-worthy like a full marathon? Not really. The marathon is an iconic distance that is pretty much regarded as the apex of distance races. To most runners, finishing your first marathon is like summiting Mount Everest. Do people go around bragging about making it half way up Mount Everest? No.
So my running friends, please give it a rest. Save the bumper sticker for when you do something truly epic, and that would be a marathon.
Me? I’ll never run another marathon, but I always a nice half 10k.
It was a grand Easter day in Manhattan, where my brother and sister-in-law hosted us for a wonderful afternoon of eating and fun. The big surprise was walking in and seeing my Aunt Florie, who is just as vibrant and lively as I remember her being in my childhood, forty years ago.
Florie always took a lot of pictures, and she offered this advice: “You should write down on the back who’s in the picture… People will thank you for it someday.” Excellent point. This picture could certainly use some explanation:
Along with our Easter merrymaking, everyone peeled off their shoes to discuss bunions and foot health. After all, nothing says “festive holiday celebration” like examining each other’s feet. My right foot (not pictured) is a frightful sight, in case you’re interested.
Anyhow, to my not-yet-born descendants, this was not some sort of lost Easter tradition, but just what aging people do when they get together in a group.
I’ve been running for years — almost always before dawn and on the road. I’d never see many cars along my route, and when one did approach I turned on my headlamp so they would notice me. Some mornings, out along the road at 5am, you wouldn’t pass a single car.
Then everything changed.
Suddenly there was a steady stream of traffic between 5am ands 6am. I wondered where they all came from — but soon realized that it wasn’t where they came from, but where they were going: Planet Fitness.
The populist mega-gym moved from the other side of town to a grand new location — and brought with it a throng of early morning exercisers. Suddenly there was an influx of vehicles — not exactly like rush hour, but by 5am standards it felt like the Northway.
The interesting thing is that these people seem less mindful of a pedestrian on the side of the road. In the past almost every car would give me some leeway when they saw my light and reflective vest. Now? Not so much. These people on their way to exercise can’t be bothered with… someone exercising.
This is a great example of how a tiny change can alter traffic patterns. It’s just one more of a hundred things that have made where I live more crowded and hectic. I used to see deer and hear the turkeys off in the field before dawn. Now there are just more cars.
Some people now keep a high tech piece of equipment with their first aid supplies: an automated external defibrillator (AED). Home AEDs are becoming all the rage, but they don’t come cheap. You’ll pay at least $1100 to get the most affordable model, the Philips HeartStart Home Defibrillator, but who can put a price on living through a sudden cardiac arrest?
If you think this is a good idea, I advise you to BUY NOW because BJ’s Wholesale Club has an amazing deal: order the Phillips HeartStart and they will throw in an electric toothbrush. Yes, you read that correctly.
That may seem like an odd combo — and it certainly caught my attention — but if you think about it, it does make sense. You may never have a heart attack, but you’ll definitely need to brush your teeth. And if the defibrillator doesn’t do the trick, it couldn’t hurt to be minty fresh when they come to cart you away.
When you get to be my age, you keep you eye out for signs you are about to die. Looking into the toilet and finding what appears to be blood is one of those signs.
Unless you’ve been eating beets.
Beets are arguably the hottest vegetable around right now and you can’t open a newspaper or look at a food blog without finding beet recipes. Roasted beets, beet salad, sauteed beets… they’re everywhere.
But back to the amusing side effects. When many people eat beets, their stool takes on a bright red bloody color. It may also turn your urine red, which is hilarious — unless you’re not expecting it, then it’s not so funny.
Very few items about beets mention this amazing phenomena, focusing mainly on the beets healthful benefits and unique earthy flavor. I urge you to take the plunge with the humble beet. Serve it to someone unfamiliar with their magical properties and watch them run screaming from the bathroom the next day.
I started EMT class this week, figuring 50-years-old is a good time to begin something completely new. Some guys get a motorcycle; I’m getting an ambulance.
Naturally, there will be sessions on CPR, which I expect will unteach any bad habits I learned in prior classes — but the fact is, even if you haven’t spent hours kneeling on the floor pounding on practice dummies, you can be of assistance. Exhibit A is this awesome video:
I have heard people recommend that you give compressions to the beat of Another One Bites the Dust, but that’s not very optimistic, is it?
Vinnie Jones is hilarious, as you know if you’ve seen Lock Stock and Two Smoking Barrels or Snatch — two spectacular movies by Guy Ritchie from before he married Madonna. If you haven’t seen them, go rent them. Just remember you may need to turn on the subtitles to understand what they’re saying.
When I saw that someone posted this as their Facebook status, I instantly understood:
Is beer a clear liquid?
You see, I had been wondering the same thing just hours before as I examined the prep instructions for my colonoscopy. The guidelines are very specific about consuming only clear liquids, but as you can imagine, the gastroenterologist isn’t going to include beer on the list. Broth, bouillon, juices? Yes. Beer? No.
But it doesn’t say don’t drink beer, does it?
My regimen started with four Dulcolax tablets to kick things off, and then proceeded to heavy doses of MiraLAX, popularly regarded as the Drano of the laxative community. Here’s how you know you’ve cleaned the pipes:
After your prep, the results should appear clear yellow or clear green liquid with no solid matter.
Oh, what fun. I suppose this is the price one must pay for living until 50. The indignities have commenced, and will hereby continue until death.
By the way, I asked for a videotape of my scoping to put on YouTube, but that was a no-go. It seemed like the perfect thing to watch while enjoying a clear liquid.