“Controversial” Posts Revisited: The Dinosaur Phone

Apparently people love to read my old posts and comment on them, especially if they are “controversial.” About a year ago, I told you why I refused to upgrade to a smart phone. If you forgot, refresh your memory here.

Got it? Good.

Since that time, I’ve lost my beloved little Motorola. It died when I drunkenly stumbled around on the Jersey shore last summer. Well, technically some bitch named Sue picked it up, called Megan and then never bothered to pick up her phone so I could get mine back but that’s neither here nor there.

The very next day I walked into the Verizon store and the salesman tried to sell me on an iphone. I refused, and got a phone with even less capability than the lost one. While I don’t particularly regret that in and of itself, I find my current little LG kind of sucks. The keys are sticky and on the rare occasion I talk on the phone I can’t hear anyone. But it’s what I’m stuck with until 2013 since Verizon also forced me into a contract.

However, I got an offer from another company that would buy out my Verizon contract should I want to get a non-dumb phone. The offer is quite excellent actually, and I’d get a free phone AND I’d only be paying like…20 bucks more a month than I do now. With unlimited data. (And the plus is taking money away from verizon!)

Believe it or not, I’ve given this some serious consideration.

After all, within the past year I can think of several occasions where I really needed Internet because I failed to write down directions. I ended up having to call someone! CALL SOMEONE. In one case I had to run home and pick up some directions I wrote down! I mean, the sheer horror.
Also, I’ve learned how to use those blasted little touch screen things. While I am still an insignificant piece of shit at my current job, I did have the opportunity to go to Germany for work where I had a corporate iPhone (blech) for a week. I didn’t particularly care for it (and Apple’s method of locking everything down), but it did come in handy while navigating in a country where I don’t know the language.

Also, when I’m drunk I take pictures of myself with other people’s phones because the phone on my camera is kinda shitty.

But then I thought about this a bit more and came to the following conclusions:

1. My phone, while crappy, is completely functional. Granted it doesn’t function that WELL, but seeing that I’ve used it for a grant total of 9 hours since August (not a typo. I’ve made 9 hours worth of phone calls in 10 months. that seems like a LOT, but I realize 3 of those were job screens that took over an hour a piece.) of last year, I don’t really think I need anything else. Even if it craps out, does it really matter? It’s under warranty/insured. Also, I only have to charge it once every two weeks.

2. I’m lazy. Do I need to give myself a built in excuse to be lazy? Is it so hard to write down directions? Or take the GPS I own when I know I don’t know an area pretty well? Or GODFORBID LOOK AT A MAP!!!???

3. I really hate ZOMG TEH PHONE!!1! culture.

And believe it or not, its “3” that really gives me pause.

Let’s face it: I’m misanthropic. I don’t like people. That said:

If I’m going to bother to go out and talk with other people, let’s fucking talk. I don’t need to sit there while you play on facebook or twitter. If I wanted to do that, I’d stay on my couch drinking alone like a normal human being.

Do you see what me, of all people, is advocating here?
GET OFF YOUR FUCKING PHONE FOR FIVE MINUTES.

Fucking talk to people. If you don’t know how to get somewhere, why don’t you just ask? Why don’t you try making plans in advance? And if you’re not at home in front of your computer, do you really need to TWEET YOUR EVERY FUCKING MOVE?

Look, I get it: it can be handy. It can be entertaining. But when I’m sitting with a group of people who are all just staring at their phones commenting back and forth about what they are doing online, it makes me feel like a goddamn fucking dinosaur. (New plan: Bring dinosaur back to life and fuck it.) I’m not talking sending a few texts or tweets. I’m talking the people that go out to the bar and keep their eyes glued on the phone the entire time, occasionally looking up to address others. The people now incapable of carrying on a conversation outside of “OMG DID YOU SEE WHAT SO AND SO JUST TWEETED?” I’m talking the fucking people who walk down the street with their heads glued to their phones, shocked when you go running by because they are completely, blissfully, unaware of the fact that there are PEOPLE OUTSIDE THAT LITTLE BOX.

Allow me to link to this video yet again:

That clip is now 5 years old and it strikes me as relevant as ever. Because this shit? Is now everywhere.You can’t escape people and their goddamn phones. The more omnipresent they get, the more people rely on technology for every single thing, the more you get idiots driving into lakes.

So, I’m probably just going to stick with my plain old regular phone. While I can see the utility of upgrading and have definitely been in situations where having one might have helped me out, I think I’ll avoid becoming one of you zombies until my hand is forced.

In sum, put down your goddamn phone and go for a walk without it, k? You’ll survive. I promise.

I’ve always wanted my own 80′s TV theme…

This one will work just fine though:

(All this and more available on Angry Runner Happy Walker! )

DONKEYS AND FUDGE

Okay, I’m not really talking about Donkeys and Fudge.

Or Donkey Punches.

Or Fudgesicles.

Instead I am going to talk about DNFs. (GET IT? HUH?)

Specifically, my DNF.

My first DNF in 15 years!

I dropped out of exactly 4 races in high school.

All of which happened under similar circumstances: I freaked out about something, hyperventilated, and collapsed in a heap too dazed to walk. I’d whine to my coaches about not knowing what happened. I’d throw something. Maybe scream and or cry. But basically, it was teen girl histrionics combined with, well, anxiety and mild respiratory distress. I’d get a lecture that varied from stern to forgiving, I’d get angry and I’d eventually move on. But I always associated the whole experience with drama and failure, largely because as a histrionic teenage girl…I lacked the good sense to just accept that this shit just happens sometimes and made it all out to be a much bigger deal than it actually was.

It doesn’t quite work that way these days.

For years I’ve told myself that I’d rather die than drop out. If not die…just physically be unable to keep going. Like, pass out and get carried off the road. That’d be okay with me. Because frankly, isn’t anything else just giving up?

Perhaps.

But let me tell you something: IN SOME CASES YOU PROBABLY SHOULD JUST GIVE UP.

I’ve done little since Boston, but after feeling fine during the actual vodka heist (save some stomach issues that were probably my own fault and I swear I’ll write about it eventually), I figured I’d still be set for a hilly 10 mile race on Sunday.

Unfortunately…well…I wasn’t.

I’m not quite sure if it was the result of a bad week at work or something less obvious, but I had the feeling I needed to bag the race by Friday evening. Saturday I stopped three times during a run because I was getting dehydration cramps. I rehydrated and moved on.

Sunday morning I got in my car and drove to the race which started on the late side.

I felt fine while warming up if a bit…too nervous for my liking? I’d drank a fair amount but could feel the after effects of the dehydration cramps. But really, I’ve run with these before.

I got to the start and could tell something just…wasn’t firing within a mile or so. It was more than the usual struggle with finding a rhythm. There was something just…wrong. I hit the mile in 7:15 and felt like I was going under 7:00 pace. Not THAT bad, right?

Yeah. I was struggling to breathe. The next mile twisted up a hill. If I recall, the last time I ran this race I’d hit the first two miles in 7:00 and 7:20 (the course is up and down – my fastest mile was like a 6:20 and the slowest a 7:50 that year!) so I knew it’d be slower. And I was slowing down. But as the hill climbed, I recognized that this was something other than the effects of the terrain. I actually FELT like walking. This…not even 2 miles into a 10 mile race.

People streamed by and I just…couldn’t make myself care.

I glanced at my watch in time to see that I’d just run a 7:47 mile.

And that’s when it occurred to me: I NEEDED TO STOP. Not because I was seriously hurt. Not because I was going to die. Not because I was going to even collapse in a heap on the road. But because I couldn’t see myself running any further.

I gave it a minute. We turned up another hill. I hoped I’d feel better, but as the course turned down another hill…my legs weren’t cooperating. I was barely moving. It occurred to me that I could drop now and stagger back a little over 2 miles…or I could see what happened if I kept pushing forward.

The next thing I knew I was standing on the sidewalk.

I unpinned my number and just…calmly turned around and walked back.

And then it started:

A guy running screams “YOU’RE GOING THE WRONG WAY!”

I laughed and said “Yep. I am. Not my day.”

And I kept fucking walking.

Did I feel stupid?

Yes.

Did I regret making the drive when I had a sinking sense something was off?

Sure.

But I did I regret my decision?

No.

The unfortunate thing was this was a big race and a lot of people were streaming by. And I swear to vodka, no less than a dozen people felt the need to say “HEY YOU’RE GOING THE WRONG WAY!”

I don’t know if it was because I was dressed to run or if it was because I didn’t look like I was physically struggling. But fucking A, the 2.5 miles back to my car were something other than miserable. I jog shuffled at about 9-10 pace (and that was on a downhill) and laughed off the reminders that I’d just fucking dropped out.

I didn’t even roll my eyes at the race volunteers who didn’t have the good sense to see I’d dropped out and made the same comment. I didn’t really debate taking a beer a spectator offered me.

Yep, I fucking dropped out and dealt with it like a fucking adult. No whining. No smashing. Just the realization that the fact that I’m fat doesn’t make up for the fact that I should probably eat actual meals leading up to a race. And that I ought to take notice of when I’m getting dehydrated as opposed to waiting until I’m in physical pain. And that some days you might find yourself covered in salt 2 miles into a race and realize that stubbornly powering through doesn’t do you any favors.

I dropped out, I still feel kind of sick, and you know what?

THE WORLD DIDN’T FUCKING END. I may have lost some gas money, but I can’t complain about one less sub par performance at this point. No drama…though I did write nearly 1000 words on this non-experience.

It seems we have a following…

Today’s search terms include:

seneca 7 vodka heist
you are awesome
teamvodkaheistftw twitter
who are you

Apparently we made an impression?

Then again…I also see this:

angry runner wordpress manic pixie

Yeah, no.

(To be continued…)

I came. I saw. I didn’t puke.

@schills made this.

Oh, so you apparently wanted my thoughts on the Boston death march? Fine.

1. I don’t know why I bothered to show up. Once the forecast models locked in on a day that would be hot as balls, I seriously considered bagging the whole thing. I didn’t want to run and there is nothing to gain from running a slow ass marathon in miserable heat. But I showed up. Unfortunately, I still can’t tell you why.

2. People are whiny, entitled cunts. As soon as the BAA made it clear they’d allow deferrals…people started whining. As the warnings became more serious…people started whining more. And for the love of Vodka it was fucking obnoxious. And just flat out alarmist. At one point I looked at my twitter feed and saw people throwing around numbers like “WTF BAA 7000 PEOPLE DEFERRING THAT MEANS YOU WILL ONLY HAVE 7000 SLOTS BECAUSE YOU HAVE CHARITY RUNNERS, U R A JOKE LOL OMG WTF BBQ.” (Mostly from people NOT racing…which I find…interesting.)

Fucking really? For one, when you have a race that starts late in the day…your concerns re: heat stroke grow. You can call people wimpy for caring. You can criticize an organization for taking “too many” precautions (U GUYS NOBODY DIED IN THE HOT MARATHON I RAN IN —– GET A LIFE), but you can’t simply ignore the fact that a volunteer medical staff only has so many resources to go around AND that local hospitals only have so much space to deal with people.

For another, I find it interesting that people feel the need to speak to this shit with no understanding of how the process works. If you’ve paid attention to registration the past 5 years you’d KNOW there are 20,000 slots plus 7000 for Charity. These exist largely because the race wouldn’t exist without them. These organizations are partners, and the towns that shut down their roads, etc get slots as a result of their cooperation. It’s just how the race works. Deal with it. If you don’t like it, you don’t have to run it and incessant whining about the issue does no good. There are plenty of other races to run.

And in the end, maybe 500 people deferred…a whole lot of whining over NOTHING. I may be a miserable bitch but man, you people are poor sports.

3. Yes, it was fucking miserable. It felt like running on a cookie sheet. In an oven. With no shade and relentless sun, any water you dumped on your head was gone pretty quickly. I had luck with ice in my sports bra taking awhile to melt but it also clicked. Like, a lot. Just think about this and you’ll get a pretty good idea.

4. Yes, it was kind of embarrassing… I was 17+ minutes off my best time, 13 minutes off my slowest time at Boston (nothing more depressing than seeing a time 2 minutes slower than your worst time on the course AT 40 FUCKING K), and a PW by 4 minutes. Swell.

5. …but frankly I’m in shitty shape. You know what? I didn’t feel like running a marathon. I didn’t have a great time in me. I shouldn’t have bothered to run. So at least the weather presented an excuse to high five lots of people (including pretty much everyone in the scream tunnel) and have random conversations with people. Like the guy who asked me if what happened in Wellesley stayed in Wellesley and disappeared after that.

6. Its easier to overhydrate than you think, even in these conditions. I ended up feeling pretty sick after the race…and you know why? I drank WAY TOO FUCKING MUCH. I had a lot of Gatorade early and my stomach was rebelling a bit by mile 10. I kept it to sips after that but still downed quite a bit of water. While it didn’t seem like overkill I should have kept in mind the fact that I wasn’t going very fast (I didn’t even bother to use gel) and just didn’t need that much fluid. I didn’t feel dehydrated at the finish (AND YOU SHOULD FEEL AT LEAST A LITTLE DEHYDRATED!)…just nauseated. And I was nauseated enough to dry heave a bit which almost landed me in the med tent…but I rallied. My experience as a drunk helps.

7. I have nothing else to add. Yeah. It was depressing. I hope I can manage to not humiliate myself in Hamilton in the fall. I’ve done very little since Boston, partially because of work drama…but mostly? I can’t make myself care after this. It was a depressing waste of effort…though I’m not sure that I quite regret it. I keep running Boston largely because it is a fun course that suits my personality and I can stay with people for free. It might not have been fun this year, but a streak is a streak and at least I’m not injured this year even if I am fatter than ever…right?

Right.

Boston 2012 Haiku Time

Hot as balls, mofo!
Beer gut flapping in the breeze
Yippie-Ki-Yay…go?

Rocking camel toe
Wearing too short fucking shorts
Sexy like the wolf.

Eighty something out?
Well, suck it up…buttercups.
And that includes me!

Weather Karma.

If you live near the great lakes you get pretty good at amateur meteorology.

At least if you have half a brain. If you don’t, you just watch the local forecast and scream about how any storm that shows up is “media hype.”

(As an aside: Nothing pisses me off more than the “I’M SUCH A WEATHER GEEK! I WATCH THE WEATHER CHANNEL LOL”! types who ultimately react to every missed storm/cold front/warm front with “LOL U WEATHERMEN CAN’T GET IT RIGHT!”. Really, assholes? Really? I’m a rank amateur who understands the basics about how forecasting models work. And *I* get that its more complicated than simply reading radar.)

That said, I started my Boston weather watch on Monday since frankly, I wasn’t all that concerned. I was troubled when I saw a couple highs forecasted in the 80s, but was even more troubled when I saw how much difference there was between the GFS and the ECMFW. Particularly troubling was that the ECMFW was trending warmer since I understand it’s generally more accurate.

That said, once I saw this on meteostar yesterday evening I knew we were toast:

70s at the start, mid 80s by the finish.

More or less the worst case scenario for a marathon in the northeast in the spring because 1. trees aren’t really grown in yet 2. sun is at a lower angle than it would be in like…July 3. If you’re from the north east, you’re probably not heat acclimated.

On one hand, at least this winter wasn’t brutally cold. I did a 20 miler in weather that topped out at 77. ATB was fairly humid and it was about 60 degrees when I drove home.

On the other hand, FUCK. This is what we get for that tailwind last year. I realize nature isn’t vindictive but this sure as hell feels like it.

Of course, I’m not in PR shape so this is an excuse to not run horribly fast. (As tempted as I am to not run at all, I want to visit some people. :-/) Unfortunately, I’m also too fat to run shirtless. Oh well.

Can’t control the weather. Stay hydrated, folks. And eat salt. And for the love of Vodka go out slower than goal pace.

Semi-related: Who will be at the expo at like…10ish on Saturday? (lolz – bold question.)