Julia Sucks.

It never gets cold in San Francisco. It gets chilly. Sometimes windy and chilly. Sometimes chilly and foggy- but cold isn't something it does. Which is perfect for running. You can wear pretty much anything from a grungy tank top to a full lulumelon spandex suit (which is the sf "jogging" standard issue inform. lame)

Guess where is cold? Fort Collins. Super fucking cold. And you know what cold equals? Cold equal cancel. Cancel running. Stay inside and eat some lasagna. Which I probably would have done were it not for two reasons:

1) My jeans are getting to that point where it is uncomfortable to do anything but stand.

2) Julia is a pain in my ass. More painful than sitting in my jeans- which is saying something.

So there was no canceling. There was running. Running with not enough clothing and below 0 wind chill. I wised up a little on day two and wore a hat and some really retarded looking wool socks, but it was still unpleasant.

Which is why tomorrow we are going to a gym. And indoor gym with heat. Where we can wear shorts and sweat our asses off. And you know who is going to hate this? Julia. You know who doesn't give a rats ass? Me.

See you indoors suckas.

Hobbs

Holiday Debacle(s)

Seasons Greetings to our many blog readers!

As most of you likely know, we here on the east coast have received about 2 feet of snow, which, of course, has rendered the whole east coast basically useless. Schools are closed, federal government workers have off, etc etc. I LOVE snow, but since this is a running blog I will address the running debacle first, followed by the holiday debacle.

Running debacle:

In Colorado (Fort Fun), they plow the trail when it snows. Seriously. They have these little, perfect trail-sized snow plows, that are most likely driven by some sort of elves. Why? Because exercise is a priority in my great state. Here however, that is not the case. I was hoping for a snow and ice free Rock Creek Trail this morning when I ventured out into the 30 degree weather. Instead I had to climb (literally) over mounds of snow and ice to get to the trail. Upon arriving at the trail I found that it had not been plowed at all. In fact, the two feet of snow was disturbed only by cross country ski tracks (most likely made by Hobbs' dad since he lives, sometimes, in the DC area). I was forced to return home, having only run (more like climbed/tried not to fall) about 25 minutes. Blurg.

Holiday Debacle:

Recently I was at the home of my significant other (yes, same individual who puked in my sink) when his mother commented that they were going to have a goose for Christmas dinner. Can you think of anything more Christmastime-y? No. There is no dish more appropriate for Christmas than a Christmas goose, other than serving it with a healthy glass of egg nog. Which is why I told significant other's mother that it was totally badass that she was making a goose for Christmas dinner.

Significant other's mother then e-mailed my mother (in Colorado) to ask if she would like a Christmas goose, and if so to let her know as she has reserved one at the local grocer. My mother, not an experienced goose-roaster, frantically left me a voicemail detailing this plan.

But, alas, the goose had already been purchased! So now the goose will be coming with me on the plane to Colorado. For Christmas. We, too, will have a Christmas goose. In Colorado.

The obvious debacle is: How does one take a 20lb frozen goose from Baltimurder to Denver via air travel? Some questions:

1. How much liquid does a goose contain? Is it more than the allowable amount for carry-on items? I think, yes, most likely.

2. If I pack the goose in my checked luggage, will my clothes smell like raw poultry juices?

3. I will be bringing two bags to check. Do I have some sort of moral obligation to separate the goose and the goose down vest I will also be bringing with me?

4. Will I feel embarrassed if forced to show some TSA personnel my Christmas goose?

And these are my holiday debacles.

**Please note we are still waiting to hear from Hobbs about her New Year's Eve running plans and ensuing party plans.**

Cheers!

Eggnog is gross

Eggnog is gross. To be honest, Im not even sure what it is. Its like egg and nog, which im assuming is some sort of terrible combination of heavy cream and hydrogenated something or another. There will be no nog drinking if I am arround. Which should eliminate the sink issue.

I stopped running. I went to New York, ran once (and by ran I mean stopped every 3 feet because there are so many fucking people in New York it is impossible to move) and then got sick. Yesterday, to make myself feel better I did 6 sit ups and then ate some pita chips. Sit ups= healthy. Pita chips= healthy. Healthy + healthy = run. At this rate, the race in March should go pretty well.

Here is what I have been thinking. I should wear running clothes more, because its the little things like "changing" that derail my running efforts. If I was always ready to run, I could be like ForrestGump an just take off on a whim. Then I would also have to be the loser who is always wearing running clothes. Its a toss up.

Kisses,
Hobbs

'Tis the Season for eggnog hangovers

Greetings!

After running a 10k race on Sunday, I consumed, evidently, one too many eggnogs. I woke up with a headache that could have knocked a buzzard off a shitwagon. A headache, though, is considerably better, I think, than puking in your girlfriend's sink, which is what my significant other did after consuming about 17 too many eggnogs at an ugly sweater party we attended this weekend.

Anyways.

Despite what she may think, Hobbs doesn't hate running as much as she thinks. Or maybe she does.

Upon suggesting to Hobbs that we "participate" in the 25th Annual Resolution 5k Run on New Year's Eve, her response was (seriously), "That's a fucking terrible idea, Jules." Hmm.

Hobbs and I ran this race 10 years ago, on the eve of Y2K. What a great way to commemorate ten more years of our running history together!

After much berating she has agreed to "think about it". Jesus H.

The good news is that Hobbs and I will be reunited in all of our running glory over Christmas time. I, for one, am stoked for the running buddy. And of course, for the egg nog.

Running Around: day 3

1) I will not be using Ahoy in my posts. If you see any annoying phrases like that in a post, you will know it is Jules. If its really funny and you find yourself laughing your butt off/pondering major philosophical life questions- its probably me.

2) Again. No on the ahoy.

Moving on. I am on day three of this little project of ours. It has gone something like this:
Day One: This is pretty fun. I feel great when I exercise.
Day Two: Hmmm, a little less fun. I feel like I was just doing this this other day...
Day Three: I want to stop.

I think its just about getting back into it. There are a few things to keep in mind:

1) Running is not fun. Knowing this, you won't ever be disappointed - and, if anyone ever tries to convince you otherwise, punch them. In the babymaker. I love the word babymaker.

2) Pee before you run. I have not been doing this. The results haven't been that good.

3) Be sure to stop at all the lights. And if you do stop, don't jog in place. I hate those people.

I would post more, but I need to go run. I imagine day four looking something like this

Day Four: Its fucking cold. Why am I doing this.

Much love,
Hobbs

I want a hippopotamus for Christmas

Ahoy!

First things first.

I've never written a blog before. But, the interface looks similar to writing an e-mail, so I'll just pretend that's what it is. An e-mail to..?

Anyways...

Hobbs and I and my pal, Jaime from the beach are running a half marathon! In Virginia beach! In March!! 2010!!

Hobbs and I have a running history that spans all the way back to second grade when we were on the same soccer team and she would never pass the ball to me, jerk. We ended up being great pals, and good running buddies. I was always a lot better at getting us out the door to go running, while Hobbs was better at actually making us go running while we were out (instead of going to Dairy Queen or swinging on swings...not surprisingly Hobbs ended up an NCAA All American cross country runner and I ended up an....American cross country runner).

Nonetheless, now we are coming together from opposite ends of the country (me from Baltimurder and Hobbs from San Fran) to run this marathon. And also drink the free beer at the end of the race.