Get ready for the cold by saying "FUCK YOU, COLD"

it's pretty dark when i lace up for my morning runs now. not only that, but that crisp, cool left jab of a chill is in the air too. that can only mean one thing: winter time is a comin'.

here in chicago, we have two seasons: hot as fuck and cold as fuck. our transitional period is usually filled with rain, wind and whatever else people don't like. but there's one thing to remember for those of us who live here: WE FUCKING KNOW IT'S COMING.

now, one can either get pissed off at that, or one can just embrace it and get off on being tough in the face of whatever mother nature throws at us. it took me about 4 years of moping and complaining and using the harsh winters as an excuse for being miserable before i realized that I AM THE MASTER OF ME.

all it takes is the right attitude, and we humans can pretty much psyche ourselves through anything. and that's exactly what i do.

i spit in the face of chicago's worst weather. FUCK YOU, COLD. FUCK YOU, RAIN. FUCK YOU, 40 MPH WIND.

you can't get to me, 'cuz i won't fucking let you.

Victory, sweet victory

my top 4% finish at the chicago marathon sunday was as exhilarating as it was mind-blowing. running at the front of a pack of 45,000 people was something i had never done before and being treated to the neverending cheers from 1.7 million spectators gave me the energy to fly without much perceived effort... until about the 23 mile mark, where i conveniently asked myself: "whose legs are these?!?!"

nevertheless, i kept pushing. hard. then harder. then HARDER. until i crossed the line with a dizzy disposition.

it was a little too warm for my liking, so my time wasn't as good as i thought my legs were capable, but finishing at 3 hours 20 minutes and 49 seconds was good enough for a top 4% finish and a to-date personal best time at the distance.

next up: two 50K trail races (one in texas and one in indiana in november and december respectively), then on to houston in january for another sub 3:15 marathon attempt.

as one of my best buddies would say: HOT MUTHAFUCKIN DOG!!!

What i'm doing

if you're reading this between the hours of 7:30 a.m. and 10:45 a.m. chicago time, well, this is what i'm doing. i'm running like a madman through the streets of my beloved city. in fact, miles 20 through 24 take you right through my neighborhood.

this is either going to be the greatest running achievement of my life thus far or a colossal failure... either way, i'll tell ya all about it and not get too hung up if things don't work out the way i want them to.

HOLLLA!

Ready for "epic"

running means a lot to me. it's my drug, my escape, my happy place. without it holding me up the last couple of years, i'm not sure where i'd be.

and it's a strange sport, this running. i mean, what other sport has its elite athletes toe up on the same start line as amateur joes, weekend warriors and the virginally crowned couch-to-5Kers?

this weekend i will put the exclamation mark on what has been the absolute best 16 weeks of training i've ever gutted through by running the coveted chicago marathon. i'm stoked as hell as this will be the my first marathon since my st. louis letdown back in april, where i ended up injuring myself and shelved for six weeks.

this time i trained smarter. i didn't marry a chart, rather, i listened to my body and pushed it when i could, eased back when i had to, and most of all, i tried to remember that THIS SHIT IS FUN!!!!

and realize as i may that no one really gives a fuck how fast or how slow i run a marathon, the competitor within me is dead set on running sunday's race as fast as i can with all of the effort i can muster, no holding back. that's what running is about to me: seeing how far i can go, seeing what i -- as a mortal human fucking being -- can really push myself to do.

I CAN HARDLY WAIT!!!

my pops is coming to run it too. and so is one of my brothers-in-law. i hate to steal one of those kid-cliched interweb memes to describe the potential, but i cannot resist saying it's gonna be EPIC.

Real southsiders know how to be assholes

a while back i made mention of my new toys (the stanton turntables and mixer i bought during the winter) and how i was really going to learn how to use them, and... well... i'm happy to report that i have spent many an hour groovin' with my own eclectic mixes. so much frackin' fun!

in other words, me and the turntables = bonerjam city.

so anytime i see a record shop i make sure to stop in, 'cuz one never knows what gem is there to be discovered.

the other day i'm walkin' through my southside neighborhood and see the record shop (that is ALWAYS closed) is actually open, so i stop in.

no one is inside except a man behind the counter who looks pissed off... typical old blood southsider, seemingly pissed that the chinese and mexicans have slowly taken over his neighborhood. i stroll around with that i'm being watched feeling when finally he barks, "lookin' for anything in particular?"

"yeah, you have any hip-hop?"

this was followed by an eye-roll (the dude is white by the way, like old italian white... or irish white... dunno, is alcoholic a country?) and then he says, "what hip-hop? an artist? who?"

"nevermind," i said as i started out the door before a too $hort album caught my attention. i grabbed it. "yeah, like this. any more of this?"

he huffed and puffed, mumbled something and then led me to a small area that had... SOME BOMB ASS HIP HOP RECORDS!!!! flushed with joy, i grabbed a bunch and took 'em to the counter.

now, seein' all this loot i had, dude is finally nice to me... chatting me up, asking me how long i've been in the neighborhood, and all this shit while i pay for the goods... but why... why couldn't he have just been nice in the first place? 

southsiders have a bad reputation already... why make it worse? just fucking treat people the way you would wanna be treated!!!

YA HEARD?!?!

Could ya bang a creationist?

in short, yes. i could bang a creationist. sex doesn't know anything about a woman's delusions. it's irrelevant. but, as a friend of mine is currently discovering, having a relationship with a creationist requires... um... well...

there's no way i could ever have a relationship (outside of fucking) with a creationist. it'd be like asking an antelope to hang out and enjoy the company of a lion. someone's gonna get eaten. and it ain't gonna be me.

i was just surprised to find out that creationists actually exist in my city. i met her the other day and the first thing i noticed was how pretty she was. then, how well spoken she was. then, how urban she was. when my pal told me later on that they'd been dating and that she literally believes that an invisible sky daddy created the world in seven days, just like the b-i-b-l-e says, i wondered if perhaps i'd had too many cocktails.

just goes to show that crazy comes in all sizes.

What the fuck W HOTEL on adams in the chi???

seriously? $8 for a fucking water?

WHAT THE FUCK?!?!?

Things i usually don't find on hotel room walls for $200, alex

and... then finding yourself?

got it.

Oh, the sense of entitlement

in case you've been cut off from the world, you know that my city (the chi) got fucking dumped on with snow several days ago. it was massive. i've never seen anything like it. the storm broke a window in my apartment by spitting debris. i was fucking shoveling snow OUT OF MY APARTMENT, which was shaking during the thunderous raucous by the way.

i survived.

these signs (like the one featured above), the cones, the lawn chairs on the fucking sides of streets where people have 'claimed dibs' to parking spots because they shoveled are fucking everywhere. and, in my opinion, they're atrociously offensive.

oh, so you shoveled that little area, so that's YOUR parking spot, eh?

during my morning run, when no one else was awake, i went through and knocked all those fucking signs, cones and lawn chairs off the street and put them in one big pile. go fuck yourselves, you selfishly lazy bums! i don't care if you spent 3 hours or 3 FUCKING DAYS shoveling, i pay taxes for these goddamn streets too and you ain't gonna out-bully me.

the day after that storm, i went out with my shovel and joined a brigade of good neighborhood folks in shoveling ALL the sidewalks on my block AND the street. there were about 50 of us: young, old, men, women, kids, chinese, white (me), latinos... we all pitched in. 'cuz that was the right thing to do.

and we got that shit done in no time.

Two conflicting messages to ponder while pissing at villian's in the south loop

Yes, this still happens.

indeed. sometimes i still like to get a little fuckered up and wander the chicago streets with my droid-cam, making helvetica look really fucking hardcore and gritty up close.

it amuses me anyway.

:-)

I found my new favorite drug and it fucking rocks

you're gonna start hearing me talk about running every now and then. it's on my mind a lot.

i took this picture from the top of the el tracks at adams & wabash, right after mile five of the rock & roll half marathon.

i fucking love this picture.

and i took it!

:-)

Chicago and thy lines, oh how i love thee

here's me gettin' cute with my droid cam... this time from the tracks above adams & wabash, chitown, u.s.a.:

(click for full size)

fuckin' rad, eh?

i know.

chicago's lines are as sexy as they are uniform.

:-)

People stalker: sleepy train guy

i'm gonna just start takin' pictures of people i see out in public that i find interesting.

this is sleepy train guy. he's sleepy. he's on the train.

Blue sox

one reason why i don't trade in my CTA card for a car of my own is: money. it's expensive shit. but another reason is: the comedy. people who ride the buses and trains like i do tend to be full of character... like the old chinese man in my neighborhood who wears the craziest outfits -- suits from decades ago, all wool, newsy caps, etc.

keep in mind, this old chinese man has no teeth and he hollers out loud to himself in cantonese like he has turrets or something. fucking hilarious. people have a hard time restraining their laughter.

anyway, i knew no one would believe me that the man got on the bus the other day in a bright BLUE wool suit with matching socks and tie. so i fucking took a picture all sly-like with my stealthiness:

only in real life.

:-)

Ain't nuthin' like summer in the chi

i love chicago.

it's big enough to get lost in but not big enough to consume you. each neighborhood acts as an independent territory... one knows where he is based on the neighborhood and i really dig that.

the winters are a bitch. a big fucking slut-face bitch.

but ain't nuthin like summer in the chi.

i was standing on the library station platform the other day and snapped this pic. i'm pretty proud of it. that's my fuckin' town.

huzzah!