9.25.2009
9.20.2009
irony
Yesterday, the University of Washington, won what we all hope will be a program defining game. The Huskies defeated the University of Southern California. No two programs could have defined the two ends of the football spectrum more perfectly than these two. On this day, however, the mentor was defeated by the mentee. It was a day that everyone who was in attendance will be telling their grandchildren about. When the horrible memories of the Tyrone Willingham led Huskies become distant, 162,000 fans will say there were when in reality there were 62,000. It was a day of lore. A day of redemption.
It was day I spent in Autzen Stadium.
Much of my family has ties to the University of Utah, who played in Eugene yesterday. When the idea of going to the game was proposed many months ago I could not have imagined such a quick turnaround for UW. After last year's drubbing, I was pretty sure I couldn't bear sitting in Husky Stadium to watch the repeat. So, in a show of support for the Utes we all traipsed down I-5 to attend to football game.
The Utah/Oregon game was one marred with quarterback ineptitude. I will spare everyone the link to the stat sheet, but I will say, it was not good for either team. Before the game started, I had made a deal with my good friend Joe to send me updates. As the game progressed and each text arrived to my phone on the wings of angels, it became abundantly clear -- The Dawgs were not (repeat NOT) outclassed. As one reported later noted, we were winning 'old school'.
Then the updates stopped. I was on the edge of my seat. The game I was attending suddenly was interesting after three quarters of football purgatory, but I couldn't keep my mind of what was happening in Seattle. I was cursing Joe! Didn't he know what I was going through.
Picture this: four Husky fans in Autzen Stadium, sitting in the Utah section of the stadium, huddled around my sister's Blackberry hitting refresh every time it loaded in hopes of an update while the Oregon legions were copying the sideline to sideline 'Go Huskies' chant. (Their rendition was both inaudible and ill informed.) Oh....the irony. The Dawgs were winning and I was in Eugene. I was in EUGENE!
In spite of my absence, the Dawgs won, and the riot ensued.
Image Credit: Leslie Danielson
It was day I spent in Autzen Stadium.
Much of my family has ties to the University of Utah, who played in Eugene yesterday. When the idea of going to the game was proposed many months ago I could not have imagined such a quick turnaround for UW. After last year's drubbing, I was pretty sure I couldn't bear sitting in Husky Stadium to watch the repeat. So, in a show of support for the Utes we all traipsed down I-5 to attend to football game.
The Utah/Oregon game was one marred with quarterback ineptitude. I will spare everyone the link to the stat sheet, but I will say, it was not good for either team. Before the game started, I had made a deal with my good friend Joe to send me updates. As the game progressed and each text arrived to my phone on the wings of angels, it became abundantly clear -- The Dawgs were not (repeat NOT) outclassed. As one reported later noted, we were winning 'old school'.
Then the updates stopped. I was on the edge of my seat. The game I was attending suddenly was interesting after three quarters of football purgatory, but I couldn't keep my mind of what was happening in Seattle. I was cursing Joe! Didn't he know what I was going through.
Picture this: four Husky fans in Autzen Stadium, sitting in the Utah section of the stadium, huddled around my sister's Blackberry hitting refresh every time it loaded in hopes of an update while the Oregon legions were copying the sideline to sideline 'Go Huskies' chant. (Their rendition was both inaudible and ill informed.) Oh....the irony. The Dawgs were winning and I was in Eugene. I was in EUGENE!
In spite of my absence, the Dawgs won, and the riot ensued.
Image Credit: Leslie Danielson
9.14.2009
Race Report: Spokane Triathlon
Spokane Triathlon
9.13.9
Swim: 1.5k
Bike: 40k
Run: 10k
This race report will be different than most, as this trip was one part road trip, one part race. I signed up on a whim after some convincing from Aleck. I hadn't planned on racing, but he said, "The team needed me to earn some points for the team competition." I said, "ok."
I met Aleck at his house early Saturday morning. We packed up the van, and after some minor delays getting our bikes set on the rack, made our way to Kaytee's house to pick up the rest of the crew save for A.J. This went more smoothly. We had a system in place for bike loading. I think this helped quell any suspicions, as we were already behind schedule.
The drive to Spokane was relatively uneventful. Kaytee and Kelly seemed to drift in and out of slumber most of the waking only when we stopped for gas or needed a natural break. Aaron, Denny, Aleck and myself chatted lightly, for 5+ hours about how this course was supposed to be 'flat and fast', faster than Blue Lake.
We also learned almost immediately, this van had bass. Dirty, dirty high school bass that would be put to the test later.
We arrived in Spokane, ate food, and some of the contingency left for an ill-fated highway ride. They were only called 'fags' once. I think the perpetrators may have been confused because two of the four people riding were women. Maybe they didn't know the difference. I will give them the benefit of the doubt because this I believe was the only negative interaction we had with locals. Spokane was strangely friendly, even as I wore my University of Washington shirt all day after our first win in 666 days.
Aleck and I stayed behind to pick up A.J. from the larger than expected Spokane Airport. En route we put the bass to the test. This would help define the rest of the trip. Bass. Sweet, sweet bass. On this trip we learned the major differences between new school bass (Black Eyed Peas) and old school bass (Sir-Mix-Alot). Neither one is better than the other, both contain their own merits. We learned that optimally they both should be played on the 'supr bass' setting on a volume ranging from 36 to 40. We also learned that Eazy-E now makes me a little uncomfortable.
We ate at Old Spaghetti Factory. We came back. Watched some of the Oregon/Purdue football game, and fell asleep hoping Oregon would find a way to loose that game. (We awoke to find this was not the case.)
The following morning was interesting. A few of us woke at 4am, on schedule to eat. I drank down my calories, and without even thinking about it, crawled back in bed and quickly fell asleep. Seriously, all of us fell back asleep until there was a report on the door. The girls were waiting and wondering where in the hell we were. We sprang into action quickly, maybe a little too quickly.
We made it to the race site on time. We prepared our stuff. I got in the always long bathroom line. Did my business. Went back to my bike to get my wetsuit on...and discovered my shorts were on BACKWARDS!!!! I needed to get my wetsuit on, I was starting to think I wasn't going to make the start. AGhhh. My friends started walking to the start. I didn't have a towel. I didn't want to strip down right there. Fortunately, a girl sharing my bike rack recognized my dilemma and lent me a towel. I promptly fixed my shorts. I got my wetsuit on, but not well, found A.J., Aaron and Aleck and got position in the water where we thought there was a good line to the first buoy.
We all heard the course was clockwise, keeping the buoys on the right, but things weren't adding up. We weren't the only one who heard this, A.J. even asked someone for confirmation, but there was also a lot of people lined up to the right of us, obviously lined up for the opposite buoy. When the gun went off, I took a quick look at them and realized they were not heading for the same buoy. I thought, "oh shit!" I got back on course, but I know I missed at least a minute, maybe more, getting back on course. I swam the whole, shallow, knuckle-dragging thing, by myself. No drafting, which sucks. I was not happy with my time at all.
Swim: 24:12
T1 was an exercise in frustration. Since I hurried through getting my wetsuit on, I had a hard time getting it off. It got stuck on my ankle. It felt like I was in there forever and ever. I was building a camp there. Staying, making a home, right there in that parking lot. Some one would find me there fossilized and tangled in my wetsuit. Finally it broke free. I was free. Free...and off on the bike.
T1: 1:41
The bike was neither flat nor fast as the website had indicated and liaisons in Spokane had confirmed. It was slow. It was hilly. It was a good course, fair, but not flat and not fast. I went out slightly conservatively. I was expecting it to be flat, but there were obviously hills at the beginning. I thought I was conserving my energy to lay it out on the flats. There weren't any flats. I probably should have gone out a little stronger, but as I was not familiar with the course. I also lost a bar end.
At the turn I decided to give it what I had. I knew there would be a couple stiff rollers, but would power through them. I was a little distracted by the dude that came screaming past me drafting behind a car. He said, "Nice bike" as he passed. I was so flabbergasted I said nothing, but thought about many unrepeatable phrases. I had a good second half and started to prepare myself for a 'flat and fast' run.
Bike: 1:07:36
T2 was pretty smooth. No real issues. I was about average in the top 20.
T2: 0:47
I went out on the run and felt good. At the first mile post I looked at my watch and it read 5:47. "Ummmm.....I should slow down." The run course was flat, but not fast. I passed the dude who drafted past me on the bike. Repeated those colorful euphemisms in my head and proceeded.
There were like a million turns and the entire thing was on a gravel road. Gravel is not fast. I past a couple dudes in my age group and felt pretty good. I feel like I should have pushed a little harder. I should have been under 40 minutes, but it happens. "Sometimes you eat the bar, and sometimes the bar eats you."
Run: 40:54
It was a fun race, everyone involved was great. They were happy we made the trip from PDX. It was a great experience.
Total: 2:15:07
3rd AG
14th OA
As a team we killed it. Veni, Vedi, Vici. Congrats to all.
Team Scores:
And then....the miracle. Kaytee and Kelly flagged down a car. In the very first car, the driver worked at the gas station. No kidding. We were in the middle of nowhere. The first guy that stopped had gas. He would be right back. I was thinking, "No way. The only way out is going to be riding to Moses Lake. We have bikes."
But...he came back with gas. It was enough to make it to a gas station. He told us about the race cars he owned. We paid in cash. We were out of there. A miracle indeed.
We made it home safe and sound, many hours after we started. I wouldn't change it for anything. A very wise friend of mine once said, "the meaning of life is making stories."
We just added a few to the book.
9.13.9
Swim: 1.5k
Bike: 40k
Run: 10k
This race report will be different than most, as this trip was one part road trip, one part race. I signed up on a whim after some convincing from Aleck. I hadn't planned on racing, but he said, "The team needed me to earn some points for the team competition." I said, "ok."
I met Aleck at his house early Saturday morning. We packed up the van, and after some minor delays getting our bikes set on the rack, made our way to Kaytee's house to pick up the rest of the crew save for A.J. This went more smoothly. We had a system in place for bike loading. I think this helped quell any suspicions, as we were already behind schedule.
The drive to Spokane was relatively uneventful. Kaytee and Kelly seemed to drift in and out of slumber most of the waking only when we stopped for gas or needed a natural break. Aaron, Denny, Aleck and myself chatted lightly, for 5+ hours about how this course was supposed to be 'flat and fast', faster than Blue Lake.
We also learned almost immediately, this van had bass. Dirty, dirty high school bass that would be put to the test later.
We arrived in Spokane, ate food, and some of the contingency left for an ill-fated highway ride. They were only called 'fags' once. I think the perpetrators may have been confused because two of the four people riding were women. Maybe they didn't know the difference. I will give them the benefit of the doubt because this I believe was the only negative interaction we had with locals. Spokane was strangely friendly, even as I wore my University of Washington shirt all day after our first win in 666 days. Aleck and I stayed behind to pick up A.J. from the larger than expected Spokane Airport. En route we put the bass to the test. This would help define the rest of the trip. Bass. Sweet, sweet bass. On this trip we learned the major differences between new school bass (Black Eyed Peas) and old school bass (Sir-Mix-Alot). Neither one is better than the other, both contain their own merits. We learned that optimally they both should be played on the 'supr bass' setting on a volume ranging from 36 to 40. We also learned that Eazy-E now makes me a little uncomfortable.
We ate at Old Spaghetti Factory. We came back. Watched some of the Oregon/Purdue football game, and fell asleep hoping Oregon would find a way to loose that game. (We awoke to find this was not the case.)
The following morning was interesting. A few of us woke at 4am, on schedule to eat. I drank down my calories, and without even thinking about it, crawled back in bed and quickly fell asleep. Seriously, all of us fell back asleep until there was a report on the door. The girls were waiting and wondering where in the hell we were. We sprang into action quickly, maybe a little too quickly.
We made it to the race site on time. We prepared our stuff. I got in the always long bathroom line. Did my business. Went back to my bike to get my wetsuit on...and discovered my shorts were on BACKWARDS!!!! I needed to get my wetsuit on, I was starting to think I wasn't going to make the start. AGhhh. My friends started walking to the start. I didn't have a towel. I didn't want to strip down right there. Fortunately, a girl sharing my bike rack recognized my dilemma and lent me a towel. I promptly fixed my shorts. I got my wetsuit on, but not well, found A.J., Aaron and Aleck and got position in the water where we thought there was a good line to the first buoy.
We all heard the course was clockwise, keeping the buoys on the right, but things weren't adding up. We weren't the only one who heard this, A.J. even asked someone for confirmation, but there was also a lot of people lined up to the right of us, obviously lined up for the opposite buoy. When the gun went off, I took a quick look at them and realized they were not heading for the same buoy. I thought, "oh shit!" I got back on course, but I know I missed at least a minute, maybe more, getting back on course. I swam the whole, shallow, knuckle-dragging thing, by myself. No drafting, which sucks. I was not happy with my time at all.
Swim: 24:12
T1 was an exercise in frustration. Since I hurried through getting my wetsuit on, I had a hard time getting it off. It got stuck on my ankle. It felt like I was in there forever and ever. I was building a camp there. Staying, making a home, right there in that parking lot. Some one would find me there fossilized and tangled in my wetsuit. Finally it broke free. I was free. Free...and off on the bike.
T1: 1:41
The bike was neither flat nor fast as the website had indicated and liaisons in Spokane had confirmed. It was slow. It was hilly. It was a good course, fair, but not flat and not fast. I went out slightly conservatively. I was expecting it to be flat, but there were obviously hills at the beginning. I thought I was conserving my energy to lay it out on the flats. There weren't any flats. I probably should have gone out a little stronger, but as I was not familiar with the course. I also lost a bar end.
At the turn I decided to give it what I had. I knew there would be a couple stiff rollers, but would power through them. I was a little distracted by the dude that came screaming past me drafting behind a car. He said, "Nice bike" as he passed. I was so flabbergasted I said nothing, but thought about many unrepeatable phrases. I had a good second half and started to prepare myself for a 'flat and fast' run.
Bike: 1:07:36
T2 was pretty smooth. No real issues. I was about average in the top 20.
T2: 0:47
I went out on the run and felt good. At the first mile post I looked at my watch and it read 5:47. "Ummmm.....I should slow down." The run course was flat, but not fast. I passed the dude who drafted past me on the bike. Repeated those colorful euphemisms in my head and proceeded.
There were like a million turns and the entire thing was on a gravel road. Gravel is not fast. I past a couple dudes in my age group and felt pretty good. I feel like I should have pushed a little harder. I should have been under 40 minutes, but it happens. "Sometimes you eat the bar, and sometimes the bar eats you."
Run: 40:54
It was a fun race, everyone involved was great. They were happy we made the trip from PDX. It was a great experience.
Total: 2:15:07
3rd AG
14th OA
As a team we killed it. Veni, Vedi, Vici. Congrats to all.
Team Scores:
Ironheads- 88 Points (4-1st, 2-2nd, 1-3rd, 1-5th)
Tri-Fusion- 66 Points (3-1st, 1-2nd, 1-4th, 1-5th)
Team Blaze-53 Points (2-1st, 1-3rd, 4-4th)
As with all good road trips there has to be some obstacles and miracles.
The obstacle came in the drive home. We were tired. We had swilled down a few celebratory beers, ate some chow and headed home. We were dropping serious bass on I-90. Cruising. Not reading the signs. We missed our exit. We had overshot US 395. It wasn't by much, but we missed it alright. There was a classic deserted farm road, real 'Grapes of Wrath', that cut the angle back to the highway. We were still dropping bass and also using gas. More gas than we should have. Right before the highway, in what can only be described as as ghost town, we ran out of gas. There was only a Pacific Pride station in town. No one had an access card. We were screwed. As you can see: I decided to check the bikes. Someone was going to have to ride to Moses Lake. It seemed our only option.
And then....the miracle. Kaytee and Kelly flagged down a car. In the very first car, the driver worked at the gas station. No kidding. We were in the middle of nowhere. The first guy that stopped had gas. He would be right back. I was thinking, "No way. The only way out is going to be riding to Moses Lake. We have bikes."
But...he came back with gas. It was enough to make it to a gas station. He told us about the race cars he owned. We paid in cash. We were out of there. A miracle indeed.
We made it home safe and sound, many hours after we started. I wouldn't change it for anything. A very wise friend of mine once said, "the meaning of life is making stories."
We just added a few to the book.
9.08.2009
Hulaman Video
I am fooling around with some video editing software. Here is my first (ish) shot at putting something together. Obviously, I haven't gotten it all figured out yet.
9.05.2009
A New Day
Today begins a new day in the history of Husky football. I have been contemplating this post since the day Coach Steve Sarkisian was hired. I have scraped many, many ideas of what to say today. I have run the breadth of emotion in regards to this team over the past decade, and now we start again. We start with a new coaching staff in a new Husky world.
I know today will be a test. We face one of the storied programs in the country, from a place where football means more than anything -- LSU. The current line has the Huskies at about 18 point underdogs. No one, I mean not a single sane person, expects UW to see any amount of measurable success today.
Yet, in some way, there is hope. Sark's enthusiasm and energy has permeated the outer reaches of Husky Nation. Husky fans have been infected with an optimism we haven't felt in a long time; an optimism long since pushed to the recesses of our hearts. Sark has sparked a small flame in all of who remember our once proud tradition. Sark has ignited that precious flame that will one day conflagrate the remains of these last dark years and light a path to the new and bright day of Husky Football.
It is hard not to feel something special is going to happen today.
Go Dawgs!
I know today will be a test. We face one of the storied programs in the country, from a place where football means more than anything -- LSU. The current line has the Huskies at about 18 point underdogs. No one, I mean not a single sane person, expects UW to see any amount of measurable success today.
Yet, in some way, there is hope. Sark's enthusiasm and energy has permeated the outer reaches of Husky Nation. Husky fans have been infected with an optimism we haven't felt in a long time; an optimism long since pushed to the recesses of our hearts. Sark has sparked a small flame in all of who remember our once proud tradition. Sark has ignited that precious flame that will one day conflagrate the remains of these last dark years and light a path to the new and bright day of Husky Football.
It is hard not to feel something special is going to happen today.
Go Dawgs!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)