I suppose this is why we get sick days

At soccer practice yesterday I saved a goal by sliding and kicking the ball away. Subsequently, I burned an area of flesh slightly bigger than my palm off my upper thigh which became painfully part of my boxers. Arriving home I didn't want to rip my boxers off so that I could then stick to the sheets so I thought it best to leave them on and enjoyed an evening of waking up about every 15 minutes in pain. Finally when I couldn't take it any more and got up and showered my underwear off to reveal that overnight I had grown what appeared to be a third butt cheek with a blistery pussy finish. It's quite cute really if you're into that kind of thing. And perfectly situated such that wearing shorts or just sitting down normally proves impossible.

So after that description let me assure you, I may get some work done today, but it won't be at the office. I need to keep this glistening mass exposed to the air so hopefully it will scab over and I can wear pants again. If I really get tired of it I might cover it in gauze but the memory of ripping a layer of skin and hair off my thigh this morning is a little too vivid for me to embrace that solution unless substantial time in the open air does not allow my body to heal itself. Good news is the swelling is going down.

Boise Beer Mile

Triathlons, Marathons, Ha! You all think you’re so special. But how fast can you run a Beer Mile?
A Beer Mile you ask? Yes my friends, a Beer Mile:

• Drink a beer. Run a lap.
• Drink a beer. Run a lap.
• Drink a beer. Run a lap.
• Drink a beer. Run a lap.
• If you haven’t puked you’re done. If so, well you get another lap.

This was the stupidity I embraced this evening. What else was I going to do? And for stupidity's sack I had to show up after a fellow hasher invited me.

Lap Summary

• The first beer went down surprisingly fast to my amusement and I was the third one off the start line.
• The second beer went down smooth as well. Unfortunately another constestant overtook me at the end of the lap.
• The third hurt a bit and took a little longer, but I managed to keep up with the leaders and one fell behind.
• The fourth took even longer and cost me at least a minute off my time, but by the end of the race I was 3rd out of 30 participants with a 9:05 finish.

A tragedy of the Beer Mile

This is a time I am pretty confident I could beat should a rash of stupidity strike again in six months when the beer mile returns.

So, I put this out a challenge to you, all my protein gel, stretch happy, friend-a-thoners.

I moved to Idaho because I wished to live deliberately

I moved to Idaho because I wished to live deliberately. And to plagiarize Walden.

No, I moved to Idaho because I wished to to prioritize my life around experiences. To have time to spend in the pasttimes, pursuits and whimsies that are tangible and real. Experiences that we hold with us and not obsess over my checkbook or occupation. I wanted also to live in a place that was convenient.

Boise is the most convenient place I have ever lived since college. The travel times are similar only now by bike rather than foot:

• Groceries? 2 minutes
  
• Park? 3 minutes
• Work? 10 minutes
  
• Hiking? 10 minutes
• Bar? 1 minute
• Friend's houses? 10 minutes
• Camping, Rafting, Skiing or Hot Springs 30 minutes (by car)
  

And if I could afford the North End the times would be reduced.

I love the simplicity of a bicycle. It was not until I removed driving from my life that I realized just how much stress driving adds to your existence and how much time and energy it sapped. Biking every day along the greenbelt, watching the river and trees change with the season is invigorating.

Over the next few months I'm going to be experimenting to see how much more beauty I can find in simplifying my existence and removing clutter. While having stuff and a house makes for a pleasant home, the accumulation of too much stuff is burdensome.

I'll be using this e-book as a guide and will regularly update you with my progress.

'Tis the gift to be simple, 'tis the gift to be free,
'Tis the gift to come down where we ought to be,
And when we find ourselves in the place just right,
'Twill be in the valley of love and delight

- Joseph Brackett, 1848 Shaker Song [source]
popularized in Aaron Copeland's Appalachian Spring

An Odd Moniker

Stupid Dingo. An odd moniker and for those that don't know me well, and I should probably explain.

A loving insult if you will. She answers to it, and so did Tonto, but it probably isn't right.

Her real name is Kootenai. A name I chose based on a dream about a blue healer named Selway I had while living in Missoula many years back. When I finally settled down enough to share my life with a best friend I looked for a mutt with some blue healer in her. I don't have much land so a true Cattledog was not practical. I settled on a healador (an Australian Cattledog - Labrador Retriever mix). She joins me on almost everywhere.

But when she runs in front of cars chasing cats, lopes into screen doors and rolls in mystery stench she answers to another name, my Stupid Dingo.

The meat of reality

One of the things l love most about travel is how time slows. The mundane drifts away and you are left with the meat of reality.

This shot was taken minutes after I feared I had killed my climbing companions. I was lead climbing, and thankfully, they had heeded my yells to wait. But as rock after rock careened down the ravine beneath me there was no way to communicate until a minute later, the cacophony finally quieted, that they still held the same tenuous grip on life we all share.

I don't know what leads me to situations where death is so palpable. But I do know there is truth there. And the answers aren't selfish, for the idea didn't even occur that I could have been plummeting downward with the debris until my companions rejoined me on the ridge and echoed my fears. This will be another journey. An exploration of ideas of home and travel.

A search for quality.