My Previous Life - My Friend Roko

In 1994 I took a job at a start-up telecommunications company, that had just been courted for acquisition by Hewlett-Packard. I was looking for an engineering position, but the job market was tight, the job I had at the time as a hardware engineer at the Massachusetts Eye and Eay Infirmary's Audiology REsearch lab was driving me insane (actually, it was my boss, the only person I ever _really_ wished would die a horrible death). So I took a job in manufacturing as a senior technician, one of three.

Another one of the three was a character named Roland. Roland was quite odd, and under the influence of several medications from several different doctors. My first exposure to his quirks was when he used to eat his late breakfast at his workbench, a bowl of shredded wheat, and he used to sing a little ditty he made up:

"when you eat your colon blow, everything will floooooowwwwww!"

Since he was on meds for his mental stability as well as a heart condition (brought on by years of partying with many different drugs, though he was under 50 at the time), he would often have extreme emotional reactions to his environment. One afternoon I came back from a meeting, and he was sitting at his bench in nothing but his underwear, socks and shoes, his clothes neatly folded on his workbench besides him (he was always very clean, manicured, neatly dressed, and his work area was spotless). His excuse was that he was very hot.

But I liked Roko, a lot. I knew we were to become friends after the following exchange: I had only been there a few weeks. The manufacturing engineer (who had hired me) was giving a functional description of a new feature in the product, and it wasn't working right.

Eng: I think I should call someone
Roko: Who, any vegetable?
me:Well, who are gonna you call, Billy?
Roko: (with a look of joy) Billy was a mountain!
me: ethel was a tree growing off of his shoulder!
Eng: (at me) DON'T GET HIM STARTED!!!
me and roko : biiillllyyy the mooooouuunntaaaiiiiiinn!!!
Eng: dear god, what have I done?.......

Yes, Roko was a fan of Zappa.

He also had a complete video collection of everything John Waters made with Divine. He could quote from Pink Flamingos as well as the rest of us could recite the ABCs, and knew trivia about the two of them that the rest of us neither knew nor had any reason to seek out.

Roko was also a fan of Yoko Ono. Really. I'm not kidding. He genuinely liked her music...er...performances...er....what ever you might wish to call them. He had seen her live several times, and had pretty much every recording he could get his hands on, including a laser disc from japan of some concert she did there.

He had seen her video creations, including one called 'erection' which was a 30 minute slow motion video of Johns penis getting hard, and one called 'fly', which follows a fly around a room which was empty, except for a nude woman lying on a table. She dubbed in 'fly' sound effects with her own voice, as an interpretation of the sounds a fly would make if you could hear it.

The real kicker was the Ono Box. Ono Box was a small road case with a lock, and a handblown glass key, designed to hold her new CD box set of 'greatest hits' and 'rarities' (this was all yoko - no john, no beatles). The key had a tag that was numbered and signed by Yoko. In 1996 he paid (I think) 125$ for it - this was _without_ the CDs.

This is what earned him the nick name 'Roko'.

Other fabulous Roko-isms:

* he would listen to CDs at work with headphones and sing loudly. He had an exceptional voice, so we really didn't mind, though it was startling sometimes ( he was the front man for a local band in the late 60's/early 70's ). However, it was annoying when he would sing to Ono music, which sucked. Often he would simply jump up and start dancing, usally some pop dance from the '50s like the Mashed Potato.

* One day, when the doctors had been tweaking his medication. He came up to me at work, more glassy eyed than anyone I had ever seen, smiled, and said "I am soooo stoned" then fell asleep on the table in the break room.

*Since he had the longest tenure of the technicians, he was given field returns. One day, one of the sales people (whom none of us liked) went up to him when he was wearing his headphones to ask him the status of a repair. Roko never took his headphones off or turned down his music. He looked the salesguy right in the eye and said loudly "I CAN'T HEAR YOU, I HAVE MY HEADPHONES ON", then turned away and went back to work.

* One late afternoon, he was drumming wildly on his bench. I asked him what he was listening to, and he replied, in key, with a maniacle laugh, then "WIPEOUT". Taking the bait, as he drummed madly on his bench, I jumped up on a swivel stool and pretended to surf. Without missing a beat, he looked past me and said loudly "isn't he good?". I turned around and the General Manager was shaking his head and rolling his eyes.

Roko Often used to say it was a good thing he stopped his substance abuse before he met me. I would have to agree, for both our sakes. Roko and I had great times in and outside of work. I can only imagine what would have transpired if drugs were involved.

I don't hear from Roko anymore. I can't say as I miss him, though I do longingly wax about that time in my life, and about friends like him. That 'silliness' is sadly missing from my life. Roko would be unable to fulfill that void, due in some part to his age, and some part to the fact that he no longer needs medication. Still, I have an unmeasurable appreciation for him and the piece of my life that he helped create.

Till we meet again, my friend....

An Extreme Amount of Suckage

I'm not sure if it was the lay off after the minor ankle sprain a few weeks ago, or that I just had a _really_ good day at the Lawrence TIP 5K, but my time at the Feaster 5 Miler on thanksgiving was was lousy. I never quite recovered from the hill up to Andover Center, and the lack of miles in addition to favoring the left foot the past few weeks lead to my left gastrocnemius cramping at ~ 2 1/2 miles.

I wasn't sure what to expect in general, never having run in a race with more than a couple of hundred people. I knew this event was going to attract a significant amount of regional talent, so I had no illusions of placing in any position that would get my name printed anywhere other than the overall results sheet. One thing I wanted to make sure of, was that I didn't have to run through alot of traffic at the start. With that in mind, I got the the start line 20 minutes before the scheduled start, then just jumped around and stretched, while the road filled in around me.

I was surprised how many people were dressed in bare legs and one or two thin layers on top. There's an old rule of thumb in bike racing 'geared' at keeping your knees healthy, which is to wear knee covering below 60 degrees Fahrenheit. It's quite rare that I do not follow this advice, and since I'm really only starting out in competitive running, I'm not about to start experimenting with what's worked well for me for the past 20 years. So I wore two medium weight layers on top, gloves, doo-rag (I don't have a real 'doo' to keep my head warm) and medium weight tights. This is still significantly less than I would have worn if I were riding on the road that day, but about the same as I would wear mtn biking.

As the start time approached, the pomp and circumstance one would expect with an event of this magnitude began. Tom Licciardello made the most of his MC duties. He was comfortable, yet energetic. Also gracing us were Bill Rodgers, Dick & Rick Hoyt, and Barry Burbank. We were also treated to not only the American National Anthem by MVS member Tracie Gardner, but God Bless America by Joey Griggs, the same confident tyke who sang our National Anthem at the Lawrence Veteran 4 Miler.

I was reminded of the scene in the movie 'Mystery, Alaska', where a local town hockey team managed to get the New York Rangers to come to their town and play. The residents of Mystery were used to playing in single digit weather, so in order to chill the Rangers who were used to playing in climate controlled arenas they contracted Little Richard to sing long, slow, soulful, bluesy versions of both the American and Canadian National anthems. Fortunately, it was pushing 40 degrees by that time in andover, and I was in a swarm of warm bodies.

WE'RE OFF!!!!

mile 1 - 6:29 - I started out running well, comfortable, and smooth. According to Cool Running, I had a 5 second differential between the gun and my start, so I probably had a couple of hundred runners in front of me. I was passing people and getting passed. At one point, about 1/2 mile in, I got passed by a a kid, probably high school, wearing nothing but running shorts and shoes. brrrrrrrrrrrr. He must have lost a bet. We hit the hill to Andover center, and I dialed it back a bit, following my breathing. The first mile ends pretty close to the top of the hill, and it showed 6:29. I was cool with that, considering the hill.

mile 2 6:32/13:01 - This is what I get for not previewing the course. I'm very familiar with all these roads, by bike or car. Running them is a different story. From the top of the hill in andover center to the left turn on Morton Street is flat by car or bike. Not on foot. Neither is Morton Street. I attempted to pick it up after hitting the center of town, but that started pushing me into an anaerobic zone. Too much, too soon. Finally the downhill section on Bartlet allowed me to stretch out. Going past the park, a Dixieland band struck up a tune. Whenever I hear a banjo, I think of "Last Child" by Aerosmith. Allegedly, there is a banjo somewhere in that song. It's listed in the album credits. As a teenager, I listened to Last Child hundreds of times (loud, soft, with headphones, but never backwards, that would be just wrong), trying to hear the banjo, I never could make it out.

The water station came up, I reached out to grab a cup, and muffed it. No biggie, I didn't really need it. Then as the mile marker came up, I noted 13:01. Damn. I could feel I didn't have the lungs to pick it up. This was going to be a disappointing day.

Mile 3 - 7:26/20:27 - At the two mile mark the road starts a small incline again, and zig zags through some side streets in Andover. I passed a large throng of residents and a home made sign that said 'Give Us A gobble'. No thanks, I feel enough like a turkey at this point, lets not make it worse....but worse it got. Coming around that corner my left calf cramped. I slowed to a walk/limp. One Samaritan running by asked if i was OK. I'm not sure what he would have done about it if I said no, but I waved him on anyways. I walked half the length of Washington ave, which explains the 7:26 time for mile 3. Alright, let's just turn this into a fitness run, screw the racing. Take it slow on the hills, Stretch out on the downhills, and pace the flats. Once I started running again, I was in the group of runners with the strange breathing and odd gaits. The was a 'stomper' coming up behind me before we started the downhill, One foot would land with a loud STOMP.

Mile 4 6:53/27:20 - There was a decent amount of downhill and I usually do well at stretching out. It's quite rare that I've been passed running downhill. I managed to use this to catch a few runners that had just passed me. The next water station was successful. However, coming back onto high street is where the 5K and 5M course come together, and also where the walkers are on the course. I tried to keep a pace through, but the slow pace of the walkers, many of them spread across the road, made that difficult. Not because they were in the way, there were only about three times in the last mile and a half where I had to alter my course (one woman walker actually took a sharp right directly in my path. I managed to avoid her but had to hold her as I went by to void knocking her down). It was more of a case where it's hard to judge your own speed when there are literally several hundred people moving in the same direction as you but slower. I also had a number of people pass me at good clips. I'm thinking they started late, maybe were running the 5K, but there's no way I could have hitched onto their pace.

Mile 5 - 6:30/33:50 More downhill, more stretching out. As I got to the intersection of rte133 I knew it was downhill, flat and less than a mile, so I started digging in again. Three young men came by me very fast....Geeze, where the hell did they come from? Coming to the railroad bridge a dixieland band was playing, with a group of walkers that had stopped to sing "when the saints go marching in". Just under the bridge is where the woman I mentioned above walked in front of me. Earlier, when I was walking to the start line, I took a glance up the finish hill. There was a banner a bit more than halfway up, and unfortunately, I took this for the finish line. I hadn't bothered to look at the course map on the Feaster Five website which _clearly_ shows the finish about 50 yards past the _top_ of the hill in the Brickstone square parking lot. I was cooking it down the little slope and into the corner, intent on keeping some momentum for a strong finish.

Now, my eyes aren't as good as they used to be. So I wasn't too concerned when I came around the corner for the last 100 yards to the banner and didn't see a timer or sensors across the road. No, I didn't freak out until I heard the guy with the megaphone on the step ladder under the banner yelling "200 yards to go!"

TWO HUNDRED YARDS MORE UP THIS HILL?!?!?!?!

Ugh, I faded like an old Polaroid. A little kid sprinted by me. I'm lucky I wasn't walking when I crossed the line.

128th overall, 20th out 393 in my age group. Mill City Relay coming up, unless I get kicked off the 'team'.

The New Guard

Well, it seems that the American Political scene isn't the only venue of change lately. The MCRA is under new management.

Yes, in a political coup, complete with insinuations of financial impropriety, the MCRA BOD has undergone an almost complete transformation. We now have arguably the best race promoter in New England as the president. This is good. Regardless of how you feel about Mr. Norton personally or his on-the-bike behaviour, his organizational skills are beyond reproach, as is his work ethic and dedication to the sport. Yes, I am a Fan of Mike.

Almost laughably, the impetus for the take-over is still on the BOD. Sandy Martin, the former and current secretary is still in place. It was apparent that Ms. Martin was in fact running the show. But if there's one thing we know about Mike, it's that he will not allow anyone to take ownership away from him without a fight.

It remains to be seen exactly how Mr. Norton will restructure the MCRA. The mission will no doubt remain the same, but the vehicle by which masters racing in new england is actively promoted will undoubtedly become more streamlined and efficient. Because, that's what Mike does.

There are very, very few people I hate. One of them is DICK cheney.

You have to go here.

Best lines: "Every decision he has ever made has been wrong" and "In 1959, he matriculated to Yale University, where it was thought to be impossible to flunk out. After flunking out, Cheney returned to Wyoming in 1960."

If there was ever an example of Evil Incarnate, it would be DICK cheney.

That Light At The End Of The Tunnel Is An Oncoming Train.

There isn't much to be optimistic about these days. True to the title of this blog I've been getting in as much riding as I can in order to stave off a complete descension into paranoid depression. I was running alot, but a couple of weeks ago I stepped in a hole while running in the woods. My Physical Therapist thinks I may have a 'compression fracture' on my tarsus and suggested an MRI - I have an appointment at lahey clinic on monday.

So, I ride. I have a pretty sweet loop here at work - 9 miles; more than half of it single track and some of that quite technical; three climbs of over 100' each and one of those a solid 15% grade on packed gravel with rubber water barriers; three mud sections, one of which never dries; and a host of short technical rocky/rooty sections. I've been hitting it hard. I rode it 4 days this week. In the past month I've severely banged up my knee, snapped a derailleur, broken two chains, flatted three times, and I fear my rear wheel is on a truing downward spiral - I've retrued it three times in the past month and it keeps drifting out (did I mention the jagged rocky sections and 11 stone wall crossings?). These are the problems I _want_ to have.

Still, everytime I read or listen to the news, the sense of impending doom is almost overwhelming. On things that matter, there are really no bright spots. Oh sure, I could point to the facts that:
* I _am_ still employed ( though an extremely reliable source here has warned of cutbacks in january),
* My daughter still seems to appreciate my existence ( though she is still only just entering her teen years),
* My apartment building is fully rented by people who have been making their rent payments since may (though that could change at _any_ time).

Yes, I'm looking at the glass as half-empty, with a leak that I can't find. Can you blame me, or anyone, for that matter? Of course I'm quite fortunate. I know that. I don't need anyone to remind me of it. But when you see the world around you on the verge of imminent collapse, it's extremely hard to remain optimistic and maintain a sense of well-being and satisfaction unless you have resources beyond what are generally available to the working-class schmucks like me. So, I will leave you off from this depressing anti-zen message with a reason to live:

Liz Hatch makes me want to live.

http://www.myspace.com/noheadwinds

"A Right Nice Brew"

Such were the words uttered by an english friend of mine, after tasting a Scotch Ale I made at the Incredibrew Brewkitchen in Nashua. It was a nicely balanced 9 % ale, that I named 'Asshole Ale' and made this label for.

Well, while perusing a new-to-me grocery store in salem, I was surprised by the breadth and depth of their beer selection. There were no fewer than 30 domestic micro-brew brands, with several offerings from each brewery. This was in addition to an equally impressive collection of euro-beers, as well as the obligatory domestic mass produced crap.

Of course, the main thing that caught my eye was the collection of Flying Dog brews - my favorite micro brew - and in particualr, a new (to me) Horn Dog Barley Wine Ale. Now, I'm a sucker for a dark malt. I went nuts over the Gonzo Imperial Porter. So, of course, the Horn Dog sucked me right in.

I found the molasseses in the Horn Dog a bit heavy. Unfortunately, for me anyways, I found it to be distracting from the from the overall character of the beer. It was still very good, of course, and a welcome change from the Hops Race I've been noticing in the microbrew industry lately ( who can stuff the most hops in a bottle) . Since it was very cold, I decided to let it sit for a few and come up to room temperature. I was hoping that would bring out some of the more subtle flavors and balance it out. It did, but this revealed another issue. Since a beer of this type has a 'sweet spot' temperature where the beer really comes alive, one is tempted to drink it in that short period of time. I had no sooner poured a second one into my glass, when I started to feel the buzz.....then I looked closer at the label.....10% abv.....oooooookaaaaaaaaay. Now, Horn Dog isn't as good as my Asshole, but it comes close, and it has that same nuclear detonation kick.

So, if you like a big, beefy, chewy, sweet 300+ calorie beer with the promise to make you take a cab home, try the Horn Dog. You won't be disappointed.

A Drastic Improvement

The TIP 5K in Lawrence

Waking up to temperatures below freezing in the early fall and maintaining motivation to head out for an athletic endeavor can be a daunting task. But, buoyed by the promise of temps warming to the 50's and my last personally surprising performance, I held fast. Since I had done some prep work the night before, I had my equipment ready to pack, all the that needed doing was to pick the appropriate dressing for a bike ride in the cold, now hovering in the high 30's. Unlike my last day out, I had plenty of time to make the Claddagh without pushing into the high aerobic zone.

As I rolled into the parking lot of the bar, I was at first taken aback at the fact that there were only three cars in the lot, and one was a pickup with a bunch of orange cones in the back. What the fuck?

Daylight Savings Time.....

DOH!!!!

Well, not only did I arrive in plenty of time to register and not have to hammer to the event, I now had an extra hour to kill. At least it was warming up nicely. The front of the Claddagh faces southeast, the wind was from the north, and the sky was a striking intense blue, similar to someone's eyes whom I met recently. I sat on a bench in the front of the bar, basking in the intensity of the sun, allowing my black tights to absorb the infrared and warm me in an almost reptilian splendor. As the participants began to arrive, I lay there with my eyes closed, taking in the conversation of the passers by. Of note:

her: so you're wearing shorts today?

him: yes, but not these, I have a pair of compression shorts I'll be running in.

her: oh, that'll be cute, all you'll need is a potato to stuff them with.

him: actually I have a tube sock I'm going to use

her: no, I meant for the back

(yes, I really heard that).

The other conversation I heard was between a couple of volunteers, as to whether or not the police had rousted the homeless people from under the bridge into the park were the race was to be run. Hmmm.....

There was no pomp or circumstance leading to the start of this race. Nope, just an 'ok people, line up here behind this pole, runners ready....BANG'.

I really had no clue where we were going. I just followed the leaders. We dove off the main road to an access road, were the police car turned abruptly off and we suddenly were being led by a bicycle - into a paved path which twisted, rose, sunk, then looped back upon itself, back out onto the road where we fell into the park, and behind the police car again. Now, I prefer running on hiking trails - a.k.a. 'single-track' in mountain biking vernacular - rocks, roots, mud, berms, the more technical the better, so when we started winding our way through the park, I felt very comfortable. I could tell most of the other runners weren't comfortable with the constantly changing path, and I soon found myself in 4th spot, behind a very, very short person. If he was more than 12, I would be surprised. Just before we exited the park, I was passed by a guy whom I was sure was in my age group. Just after he passed, he stopped abruptly to retie his shoelace. He would repeat this at least six more times, and every time he would be just a little bit more in front of me. The last time I would see him crouched by the road (about mile 2) I just reach him, then he took off and I didn't see him again. He ended up winning the overall.

mile 1 - I started my HRM at the gun - or so I thought. I went to check my time as I approached the one mile marker, and realized the damn thing was still waiting, so I have no idea as to my one mile time. No matter, I started it at the one mile point, I can do the math later. But, later, it was the general consensus that the one mile marker was short. People behind me were commenting that they marked 5:35. No, I _may_ have turned a sub 6 first mile, but I'm not convinced, and I certainly didn’t run under 5:30.

I was gaining on the little person in front of me, and just as I passed him was when I was caught and passed (for the last time) by Mr Wardrobe Malfunction. Behind him was another guy, and as we neared the two mile mark, I was in 5th.

mile 2 - 6:40 This was not an unexpected pace, though I felt I was running faster. I was closing on the 4th place, obviously a teenager, and just as I caught him the runner behind me caught us both. He was smaller than me, and not as easy to find a draft on, and was running faster than I could maintain anyways. He moved into 3rd, and I waited until it looked like he was pulling away, then went around the teen to try and pace him. That wasn't going to happen. I checked back, and the teen was only about ten feet back, with a sizable gap to the next runner. Since I knew the teen was not in my age group (though my wife tells me to grow up frequently) I decided to drop back and use him to avoid the wind cramps I suffered the last time I tried to pick up the pace significantly in the last 1/2 mile. As we got down to the last 1/4 mile and less, I tried to come around the teen a couple times, every time I did, he would pick up the pace. Whatever...don't say I didn't try and take a pull. Hey, If you can push the guy in front of you to run faster, that's less work _you_ have to do (drafting 101). Even though we were running faster, I had managed to recover slightly since I wasn't pushing any wind. As we took the 2nd to last left onto the short stretch of essex street, I kicked hard and stretched, leaving the teen in my wake. Looking back as I took the last left into the finishing stretch, the kid was more than a few seconds behind me with no one else visible, so I coasted into the finish.

Finish - 18:48 (6:08), 5th overall, 6:04 pace....wait....6 fucking 04? Two weeks ago I ran a 6:34...I took 30 seconds off in two weeks? that isn't right...Then I started to hear about the marking discrepancies. Most people thought the 1 mile marker was short, and that the 2 mile marker was long, then came the rumor that the course was short overall. Even if the course was a tenth short, that would make my pace 6:16, which is 18 sec/mile faster than two weeks ago.

As usual for the Claddagh, they put on a good feed after the race. In that time, I managed to 'network' with a couple other MVS members, Rebecca Connelly and Dave Dargie. Rebecca won the women overall, and Dave won the 50+ group. Still, I had to figure out the course length. I'm funny that way, comes from riding time trials on bikes. So today, I took my GPS and measure the course. It comes in at 3.05 miles. Also, I noted the 2 mile mark read 2.11. There was no mark on the road for the 1 mile mark, so that's still a question mark.

What this means, is that my pace was a hair under 6:10, I'm not going to rest on this as an indication of increasing speed, it could simply be a 'good day'. I'll have to do a couple more runs this year before I make an assessment.