RandomFailure

An article in today’s Inquirer about direct wine shipments got me thinking: when the hell are they going to get around to doing this? Then I realized that I live in PA, the ass-backwards state when it comes to alcohol regulation. We still have an out-dated state system, in which you can buy beer by the case from certain distributors, maybe a six pack from some smaller outlets, and wine & hard stuff from the state stores. Throw in an 18% Johnstown flood tax - the big flood was 119 years ago; the tax added after a 1936 flood (see the Johnstown Flood Museum, a Wikipedia article, the National Park Service site, and a story on the tax itself) - and you wind up with an often over-priced lame-assed selection. The argument that PA is the largest alcohol buyer in the country really doesn’t help with a poor selection. While some state stores have respectable wine sections, I should still be able to order directly from an out of state winery of my choosing.

Repealing the tax is unlikely, due to greedy and unimaginitive legislators, who can’t find another way to make up the revenue. And permitting direct shipping is also unlikely - too many “interested parties” wouldn’t get their drink at the trough (the pun is accidental, but apropos). But they won’t tell you that they’re upset about not getting their money; they will couch it in terms of avoiding having alcohol be delivered directly to minors. This is really a bullshit argument, since what teenager is going to wait for weeks to get wine delivered when they can use a fake ID or have someone buy beer for them?

My office is located next to the sales office for the condo 10 Rittenhouse here in Philly. They’ve started building it, but haven’t sold all of the units yet. So they’re amping up the sales pitches, including throwing preview parties (or something like that) in their office. Though I suspect they may be getting a little desperate. At tonight’s event and the most recent event, they’ve added a few reception hotties to the mix. I haven’t seen these women in the hallway or around the office before, so I assume that they’ve been imported for the occasion.

Just goes to show you: it doesn’t matter what you sell, but sex still sells it.

As for the title of this post (stolen from The Man Show), that could be the next step if they need to sell more condos. Impractical with a 10 foot ceiling, but what the hell.

Time for another Broad Street Run LBRR (that’s long boring race report for the uninitiated). This is my 9th consecutive BSR, so you’d figure that I would pretty much have all the kinks worked out of any training plan and getting to the start. Well, you’d be wrong. My training wasn’t anywhere near where it should have been. I knew that I could run the 10 miles - that wouldn’t be a problem. The question was: how well could I do? I wasn’t expecting a PR (like last year) or even close. Too much else going on (like baby Caroline and an insane work load of late) to train as much as I would have liked. Plus, this was going to be my first race in 6 months. That was due to some scheduling “errors” on my part where other things were scheduled for days when I could have raced. Oh well…

Since it would have been impossible for Karen and I to coordinate getting Daisy up, out, and fed and get Caroline up, dressed, and fed before I would need to leave to be at the subway stop, I opted to take a bus. Luckily for me, I live close to a stop on the 29 route, and saw a bus that would get me to the station about 3 minutes before the train arrived. The bus was late - not good. But since it was just before 7:00 on a Sunday morning, we made up the time. I zipped across the street and down into the station. I heard a train coming. From the station entrance, you’re one level above where the trains are, so it’s hard to tell if it’s a northbound or southbound train. I ran for the turnstile anyway, just buzzed through (free ride up to the start), and got halfway down the stairs when I heard “Doors closing”. Oh, crap. I was about 3/4 the way down the stairs when I could see that the doors were closed and that there were plenty of seats on the train. Damn thing was early! Two Express trains and 15 minutes go by before the next local. Luckily, there are seats. I honestly don’t recall if I’ve ever sat on the subway on the way to the start.

Pre-race routines get difficult to do when there’s supposed to be around 22,000 people. Not enough room to do a decent warm-up run and find a place to stretch without banging into people and/or getting stepped on.

I hate waiting until the last minute to get into position to start, so I moseyed up about 8:15. Still no start corrals, a problem that should be solved for next year. At least, that’s what the race director said during the pre-race announcements.

Gun goes off, and we’re under way. Mile 1 in a brisk (for me) 6:22; took about 28 seconds to cross the start line. Funny thing is that this pace does not feel too fast for me. Mile 2 goes by in 6:24. Again, this doesn’t feel too fast.

An aside (I gotta figure out how to do an in-post sidebar): It’s somewhere around here where I start having to deal with “asshole runner” syndrome. Must be a consequence of the race growing, but there’s a decided lack of proper race etiquette. At least two different people pass me on the left (right next to me) and without even looking, begin sliding over to the right, to get in front of me. There’s plenty of room, and no need for this. One a-hole almost trips me by getting under my feet. Unbelievable! Later on, some ya-yo takes his half-full water cup and throws it right at my feet. “Thanks!” I say, loud enough for him to hear. I got a mumbled “Sorry” back. It’s not like we’re fighting for prizes or anything where I run in the pack. This behavior is nuts. How frickin’ difficult is it for you to look around you before you do something!?! Especially when you know there are that many people?!? Mini-rant over.

Mile 3 is in 6:34. I can begin to feel the effects of the fast first two miles. Mile 4 in 6:46. This is not good. Not only am I slowing down, but I’m slowing down a lot and I can notice it. And there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. Mile 5 in 6:51. Mile 6 also in 6:51. Hmm.. maybe the slowing has stabilized. I’m still a bit fatigued. Enough so that I can’t even muster the strength to look for Governor Rendell and yell my displeasure about dropping a casino 500 feet from my front door. Though with my luck, I would have said something and his security detail would have tackled me in the middle of the street.

Mile 7 in 7:01. For some reason, I think I’ve passed Mile 8 already. I’m getting a bit delirious (not Eddie Murphy Delirious, the bad kind). Mile 8 is in 7:04. This is getting worse than I thought. The people who I held roughly in view for the last few miles are fading out of sight ahead. Mile 9 in 7:10, Mile 10 in 7:11-ish (I hit the watch a bit after I cross the line in an attempt at a nice finish picture for a change) for a finish time of 1:08:14.

Not my best, but not my worst either. I’m OK with the time, just not the way I went about getting it. I would have been happier with a more consistent run. And definitely not blowing up that badly. A 50 second difference from first mile to last is a bit much. But that goes back to the lack of training in general and speed/pace work in particular. Good news is that there’s five months to PDR.