10k

Monday, 01 February 2010

During our time in Los Angeles last January, I had grand plans to get up every morning before work -- which starts at 5:30am, by the way -- and getting a good run in on the Venice boardwalk. I envisioned myself running along before the rest of the world was up, listening to music, and getting in shape. For obvious reasons, this plan never really took shape and the only time I spent on the boardwalk was well after 10am and was mostly spent reading and eating funnel cakes.

This year has been different; Although it's never happened before 5:30, I've been going on regular runs along the Pacific Ocean and taking advantage of the nice weather and beautiful atmosphere.

The last time we spoke about running, I had just run my first 5 mile race. That was two months ago, and while I've kept up running on a fairly regular schedule, I haven't done a whole lot to increase my distance. My pace has improved -- I'm averaging around 12.5 minutes per mile -- but I'm still running somewhere between 2.5 and 3 miles at a time. This past Saturday, I decided it was time to start pushing this a little further, so I set out to run my first 10k.

I came to this decision on Thursday. There was no official 10k scheduled, and I didn't even realize it was going to be 10k that I planned to run. The street we are living on is almost exactly halfway between the Santa Monica pier and the Venice pier, and most of my runs have been from our street down to one of the two piers.  On my last run to the Venice pier, I ran all the way to the end of the pier and I had the bright idea to run from our street to the Santa Monica pier, all the way to the end, then run down to the Venice pier, all the way to the end, and back home. As it turns out, this is almost exactly 10 kilometers. Here are a few highlights from the run.

You see a lot of weird stuff on the boardwalk, and this is one of the least weird things I've seen: an aerobics hula-hooping class. This class was being taught just north of where the boardwalk ends and where my ran start so I was feeling pretty good at this point, just running along and enjoying RJD2's "Deadringer" album.

This is the famous Santa Monica pier as I approached the 2 kilometer mark. At night, the ferris wheel lights up and you can hear people enjoying their evening all the way down the beach. During my 10k run, however, I was just using it as a nice visual marker so I would know when I was about a quarter of the way through my run. The running path took me right up to the base of the pier where I turned around and headed back south toward Venice.

Here's a shot of the less glamorous Venice pier. No ferris wheel, no roller coaster, no cotton candy. Just an amazing view and lots of fishermen. The run back from the Santa Monica pier was kind of uneventful and I didn't take any pictures at all. Most of my runs have been on this norther half of the path, and so I was very familiar with the scenery. I was happy to see the Venice pier coming up, which would mark the 7k point in my race.

Seriously. I was as close to this guy as it looks like I was. Midway down the Venice pier is a big stainless steel sink that the fishermen use to clean their fish. This guy hangs out hoping to make off with an unclaimed fish head or two. The pier is full of fishermen and tourists just lazing the day away, so I felt a little out of place huffing and puffing my way down to the end.

Once I reached the end of the pier, I was rewarded with a fantastic view of all the boats out from Marina del Rey, as well as the view of Venice from about half a kilometer out. I was definitely finding myself getting fatigued, so I decided to mix things up and switch my iPod to The Magnetic Fields' new album "Realism," which I highly recommend.

As I made my way down the homestretch, past skateboarders, rollerbladers, the sleeping homeless, and street venders, I saw January roll by on her bike to congratulate me at the finish line. As great as The Magnetic Fields are, they weren't quite giving me the energy I needed so I switched to the good old rock and roll of Black Rebel Motorcycle Club's "Baby 81."

It was amazing that I was able to hold the camera up at all, but I was excited not only to be able to finish the whole 10k, but to finish it at right around 12 minutes 43 seconds per mile. I did walk a few hundred meters here and there, but in all I was pretty proud of my performance.  If that's not enough detail for you, here's the RunKeeper infographic.

I'm really glad I decided to run this longer distance, and I think it's something I'm going to start doing more often. I'd really like to be able to run the Columbus Half Marathon in the fall, so I'm really going to have to start getting my distance up. Next big race: The St. Patrick's Day 8k in Washington, D.C. It's obviously shorter than this 10k was, but it will be my first time running that distance in an official race since last year's Turkey Trot. Stay tuned for updates or, if you're in the area, come run with me!

Food Trucks

Tuesday, 26 January 2010

It started innocently enough; On our first day in Venice, a large truck pulled up across the street from us advertising "Tacos y Burritos y Mariscos" and we wandered across over to check it out. $1.50 tacos? Sure, we'll try a couple. From that moment on, I was hooked.

I don't know how I missed out on the whole food truck culture when we were out here last year, but this year it's been unavoidable; La Isla Bonita, with its tasty tacos, burritos, and quesadillas, is parked directly across the street from us five days a week. On Abbott Kinney Boulevard, the hip and trendy section of Venice a few blocks from us, gourmet food trucks line the streets offering everything from mexican and vietnamese to waffles and hot dogs. If you've never eaten from a food truck before, you'd be surprised at how good food cooked in a truck can be.  This past weekend, dozens of the areas most popular trucks gathered in West Hollywood for a Haiti relief benefit. The moment I looked at the list of trucks in attendance and saw "The Grilled Cheese Truck," I was out the door with my wallet in hand.

Seriously, there were dozens of trucks, all parked along both sides of the street. Nearly all of the trucks are brightly colored with really interesting artwork. They all sounded delicious, but I had my heart set on grilled cheese. The Grilled Cheese Truck turned out to be the favorite of the group; I waited in line -- I'm not even kidding -- for 50 minutes to get a sandwich and tater tots. Was it delicious? Absolutely. Was it worth a 50 minute wait? Definitely not. However, I am still extremely interested in their dessert option (banana puree with nutella and marshmallow sandwich) so I may have to hunt that truck down again.

From what I can tell, there are two distinct food truck "scenes" in LA: The hipster, gourmet food truck variety and the old-fashioned, good-but-cheap trucks.  Some trucks, such as La Isla Bonita that parks across the street from us, can be found in the same place every day and offer a consistant and standard menu. They don't have Twitter feeds or Facebook pages, but they do have really good food at a really cheap price.

The hipster trucks on the other hand tend to be a bit more mobile; If you want to know where the Flyng Pig BBQ truck is, you should check out their Twitter Feed.  They also tend to be a little more out of the ordinary in their menu offerings. The Dogtown Dogs truck, for example, sounds pretty typical in their offering of hot dogs, but they eschew the standard ketchup and mustard toppings in favor of chili, fritos, cole slaw, and other more quirky options. They're also definitely on the pricier side. After my nearly hour long wait in line at the Grilled Cheese Truck, I shelled out $10 for a sandwich and tots. For that same $10, I could have gotten a cheese quesadilla, a burrito, and two tacos at La Isla Bonita!

Checking out these food trucks has definitely piqued my interest, and I'm looking forward to hunting down the few food trucks that Columbus has to offer when we get back to Ohio. I doubt I'll be able to find a shaved ice truck, but I'm sure it's only a matter of time.

The Niño

Tuesday, 19 January 2010

The weather here in LA has definitely taken a turn for the worse. While it's definitely dampened (no pun intended) my ability to enjoy the beach, I've had plenty of other distractions to focus on.

American Psycho

For Christmas, January and I splurged and got ourselves a Kindle e-book reader to share.  So far we absolutely love it and we're rediscovering our love of reading. On the drive out, we bought Donald Miller's "A Million Miles in a Thousand Years," which January read aloud to me. We both really enjoyed it and recommend it for a nice, casual read. The Kindle is also nice because it will read any PDF formatted document, so if you know where to find books in that format on the Internet, your possibilities are almost endless.

After finishing up "A Million Miles," I decided to give "American Psycho" a shot. I'm a little more than midway through it, and I'm beginning to regret my decision. Not because it's bad, per se, but because when I read, I'm really susceptible to the mood of the material I'm reading. My favorite books are the ones that are kind of introspective and moody, which kind of keeps me in a neutral place. If you've read "American Psycho," however, you know that it is downright disturbing. And what's worse, it doesn't really just dive straight into the insanity, it's a gradual process that sucks you in. The first third of the book really just details the monotony of the main character's life and it's only in the middle of the book that his psychosis really starts to come through, and in very sudden and graphic ways. As a completionist, I hate the idea of not finishing the book, but I'm wondering if I really have anything to benefit by sticking to it. Maybe I'll just watch the movie.

24

I'm also ridiculously excited that some of my favorite shows are back in action this month. I've seen every episode of 24 since it first aired eight years ago and, like most fans, my opinion of the show has been all over the place. The first couple of seasons were bold, groundbreaking television and since then the show has slowly begun to be little more than a parody of itself.  Really for the past five seasons I've been saying over and over again how it needs to stop rehasing the same old plots (virus outbreaks, assassination attempts, nuclear bombs), the same writing devices (There's a mole in the government! CTU headquarters is breached! A character we thought was dead is alive!), and come up with something new to reinvigorate the show. Well, I've changed my mind.

What 24 needs this season is more of the same, but done well. Let's face it: 24 is a show about government corruption, torture, stuff blowing up, and Jack saving the day and almost dying in the process. I'm resigned to enjoying the ride, as long as the writers don't give us anymore bullshit subplots about Jack's "nephew" being kidnapped, his daugher being stalked by a cougar, or Tony Almeida still being alive somehow. Assassination attempt before a peace treaty is signed? And the whole thing is just a distraction for something even bigger? Sounds great, let's do it!

So that's how I've been whiling my time away during these pacific storms. Looks like it's going to keep up at least two more days, any suggestions on other books or TV shows I should be looking at while the sun's not shining?

Living like a local

Saturday, 16 January 2010

While our place in Venice is a bit further away from the beach, we've discovered that we're basically in the heart of the Venice nightlife.  Last night, we got our first glimpse into what a Friday night in Venice can be like, and it can be pretty goofy.

Our Friday night was pretty tame -- Hong Kong chow mein and long-life beans from Mao's Kitchen, half an hour in the hot tub, and a DVD screener of Up in the Air, courtesy of one of our neighbors who is "in the industry." We were asleep by 11:30.

It was a little hot, so we left the window by our bed open as we slept. All the good Venice bars -- or at least the popular ones -- are within a half a mile of our house, so I was understandably woken up several times by passers-by enjoying their evening.  Around 3:30, though, I was woken up by a voice that was very, very close. Just outside the window, in the alley next to our house, I could hear a gentleman talking with a couple of girls he had picked up about the hot tub on our porch. "See it? It's over there, in the ground. Yeah, with the cover on it."

That was the extent of the conversation, as they stumbled their way back toward the apartment in the back half of our building.  Another hour -- and most likely more alcohol -- emboldened them to come back for another look. "I've been in it, it's really warm!" said the upstanding young gentleman. "You know, this place isn't even being used right now." I could see where this was going. "They rent this place out, and it's winter. I mean, who wants to come to Venice in the winter?" After another ten minutes of this sort of logic, he finally convinced the girls that they should absolutely climb over the wall and get in that hot tub. This is the point in which I had to make a decision: I could either nip this in the bud right now by turning on the porch lights, or let it play out a little longer and have a little fun. I obviously opted for the later.

Now, to be fair, I'm only making the assumption that these guys were drunk. I would make the initial assertion that anybody awake at 4:30 on a Saturday morning in Venice can't be too sober. Add to that the fact that they convinced themselves that the house must be empty because "it's winter." Yeah. Who would want to go to southern California in the winter? Finally, there's the state of our porch. It's far from a mess, but it definitely gives the distinct impression that someone is staying here; One chair has January's swimsuit draped over it, another has my sweat shirt on it, and the table has Gus' leash sitting right there. But we're clearly not talking about the brightest group of people that southern California has to offer.

Once this fine young gentleman convinced the ladies to at least stick their feet in the tub, he began the arduous task of trying to convince them to strip down and get in completely. This did not take long at all for the first girl; I think she had her shirt off before he was even able to finish the sentence. The second girl took was a lot more steadfast in her resolve to not take off her clothes in a strangers hot tub with a guy she just met. What a prude, right?

It was about this time that our brave protagonist decided to call some other friends and tell them to bring wine, and I decided that I had let it play out long enough.  To be honest, I was hoping that by flipping on the porch light I would be initiate a frenzy of activity as people scurried to cover themselves and get the hell out as quickly as they could. What I got, however, was the only other possibility: the "deer in the headlights" reaction. As soon as the lights snapped on, three heads snapped immediately toward the door, mouths agape and eyes as big as saucers. Nobody moved for a full ten seconds. I finally had to stick my head out the door and inform them that it was time for them to go home. The gentleman -- such a class act -- could not get off the porch fast enough as he left the girls to take care of themselves.

This morning I woke up and went for a really good run on the boardwalk. On my way back up to the house, I passed these two lucky ladies on their walk of shame. We made brief eye contact as I offered a nod and an acknowledgement of "ladies." They quickly turned their eyes down to the ground and continued on their way.