I ran, then ran some more

As alluded to in an earlier post, I recently ran the Ragnar Relay through Maryland and Washington DC. The race consisted of thirty six separate running legs, covered over a day and a half by a team of 12 runners. The twelve racers would stay in the same order, so that each person could get as much rest as possible in between their individual legs. This was a huge event, with check points set up where each leg ended and the next began. There must have been at least 100 teams or so that competed. My team wasn't necessarily trying to win the competition. Rather, I think we were just hoping to finish without giving up.

Our team chose the name of "We Wish We Were Kenyan." We were anything but. We rented two large 15-passenger vans, which proved to be just enough space for two groups of six runners each. The first van would arrive at the start of the race, and the 6 of us would run in order until trading off with van 2 when it came time for runner 7.

Anywho, I was selected to be runner #1. This meant that I had to be ready to set out on foot from Cumberland, MD at 8:30 a.m. sharp on a friday morning. Unfortunately, Cumberland is about 150 miles from DC, and so we had to wake up before the crack of dawn to drive out there in time for the start. (Van 2 had the luxury of waiting until noon to meet up, then drive out to the spot where runner 7 would take over). My morning began at 4 a.m., when I woke up to get some food and water in me, then take the last shower I would have for about 36 hours. I had to drive from my place in McLean, VA to our meeting place in Silver Spring, MD. I had planned it taking me 30 minutes to get there. It did. Too bad I left 10 minutes later than I had hoped, because I arrived at our meeting place at 5:10. But it was all good, because our vans didn't get there until 5:15.

We loaded up right away, and I was all prepared to lay down on one of the van benches and get a few hours of sleep before the race. This was not to be, as I discovered that only 3 of the 6 of us were eligible to drive the van (due to age and license requirements). That meant that I had to drive us halfway to Cumberland. And so I did. Driving a large van is not my most favorite thing at 6 a.m., and I was grateful when I was finally relieved of my duties. The final 45 minutes or so I spent listening to rock music on my wife's iPod, which she conveniently let me borrow for the trip. (I don't like listening to music while running, but I use music to get me psyched up before a big run. I'm weird like that.)

This year's race started in a different location than last year's, and so we got a little mixed up and arrived at the starting line about 5 minutes before the scheduled 8:30 start. I had to run over to the check-in table and get my running number. Then I had to use the restroom and stretch my legs. It turns out that 5 minutes wasn't enough time to get all of this done. My stretching was slightly compromised as a result. Since I opted not to stretch by the starting line, I was not around to wave "Hi" to the crowd when our team name was announced. I distinctly remember the announcer saying: "And the next team is team We Wish We Were Kenyan. Do we have the runner for team We Wish We Were Kenyan? No? Well....maybe we should change your name to we wish you were here. (crowd laughter)" I heard the announcer count down to the beginning of the race right as I was in the middle of stretching near some picnic tables, about 100 yards from the starting line. So as the announcer shouted "Go!" I started running from where I had been stretching, through the starting line, and up to the back of the pack.

The first leg was completely flat. We pretty much followed a dirt path that ran right along a small creek which (I believe) eventually turns into/feeds into the Potomac River. The weather was great for running, approximately 60 degrees and slightly overcast. Because everyone was together at the start, I ran slightly faster than I would have otherwise. Being bunched together made me want to stay with the middle of the pack. I probably averaged about 8:45 for each of the miles in my 6.2 mile run. I was fresh, I was excited, and after the pack started to break up I made it my goal to gradually overtake the runner in front of me, at which point I would repeat my strategy with the next runner in my field of vision. This worked for a while, until a pack of 3 runners came from out of nowhere and zipped by me. With my ego sufficiently deflated, I resigned myself to sticking with a good solid pace and ignored all efforts to overtake the runners in front of me.

The major frustration that I encountered on this run was that it was impossible for me to figure out how far I had gone. While training in my neighborhood, it was very easy to know how far I had gone, and how far I had left to go. I have virtually all of the streets around me memorized through countless miles of jogging. But on an unmarked trail with almost no room for spectators, it became really hard to guage how far I had gone and how far I had left. The scenery didn't really change at all, and so I had no way of determining my distance based upon landmarks that I had memorized from the map in our van. Usually I like to readjust my pace at about the halfway mark, just to make sure I am maximizing my energy on the run. Since that wasn't possible, I just kept going at a steady pace and decided to dig in when I could finally hear the crowds cheering at the runner exchange point. This happened when I was about a quarter mile from the end. So my team got to see me racing up to the exchange, unaware that I had been just steadily plodding along until I was slightly out of their visual range.

Pass the baton (slap bracelet in this case) to Steve, a.k.a. the only guy on our team with any hope of ever qualifying for the Boston Marathon. My running time for 6.2 miles: about 54 minutes. Not too shabby.

I took about 10 minutes to unwind after my first run, going through my post-race routine: catch my breath, let pulse return to normal, walk around a bit, remove sweaty+smelly shirt, pour water over my head and torso, wipe off water/sweat with a towel, put on clean shirt for next portion of the race, then drink lots of water and gatorade. After that, we got in the van and headed to the next checkpoint. I ate one of the chicken salad sandwiches that I had brought with me.

A lot of stuff happened over the next few hours. We drove to every checkpoint and traded off runners, most of them running at least 5 miles. Runner 5 (Jana) had a killer 8.something mile run that basically went up a 1,000 foot hill the whole way, which kind of wiped her out due to some injuries she had sustained a few weeks prior to the race. So some of our other runners opted to jump out and run some of her leg for her. Way to go, Team! We eventually traded off with Van 2 at about 4 or so in the afternoon, after which I drove us to a quaint little diner for some grub. No salad for Brian. I had a steak and cheese sandwich with some fries. Good stuff, and the last real meal I would eat until my final leg was over. We camped out at the end of leg 12 and waited for several hours for the other van to complete their legs. I finally began my 2nd run sometime around 9 p.m.

This one was a quick 4.1 mile run. The first half went gradually uphill, and the second half went gradually downhill. I was psyched and ready to go after spending several hours in a giant parking lot listening to music and stretching my legs, so I practically took off in a sprint when I was handed our team's slap bracelet. It was nice and dark, and I was running along two main roads in some small town in central Maryland. There weren't too many runners around me on my run, as the teams had gradually gotten more and more spread out throughout the day. I pushed myself as hard as I could, and only two things annoyed me during my run: some kids who sat in the shadows on their front lawn and shouted at me as I ran by (startling the heck out of me!), and the lack of a shoulder on the road during the last mile or so. I probably completed my run in about 32 minutes flat, which was really pushing it for me. Hand the baton to Steve again. Repeat personal post-race procedures.

We cycled our runners through until we traded off with van 2 at some large protestant church. Free hot chocolate was enjoyed by many. I drove us to another church about 30 miles away, where we set up camp and waited for van 2 to complete their second legs. We arrived at around 2 a.m. I think everyone else in my van was able to get a few hours of sleep. I dozed in and out for about 3 hours, but never really got any deep sleep from my reclined front seat in the van. At about 5 a.m. I decided to get out and walk around a bit, stretch my legs, and brush my teeth. The temperature had dropped more than expected, and was hovering right around 55 degrees or so. I opted to run my last leg in a long sleeve T so that I wouldn't be too cold. Since this was still a night run, I had to wear a reflective vest and headlight for safety. Unfortunately, these items were with van 2, so I had to find them and get the gear before I could start my next leg. I was still putting on my vest when our runner came into the checkpoint, which means we lost about 20 seconds as I prepped myself for my final leg. When I finally set out, it was cold, dark, and there were no visible runners up ahead of me. This meant that I would have to trust that the path would be clearly marked so that I wouldn't make a wrong turn and end up in the middle of nowhere.

Since my final leg was 7.9 miles, I opted to take a slow and steady pace to make sure that I didn't get tired out before the end. On paper, the run was shown to have a series of rolling hills. In reality, the hills were much longer and taller than I had expected. After running through a mile of small town and another mile of deserted corn fields (which all of the girls had agreed were creepy and scary, and which I found to be calm and serene), I came to a 6 miles stretch of highway where the hills just seemed to go on and on. It was hard for me to guage distance after a while, because it was just one big hill after another. Up and down, up and down. There were very few runners around me at this point, and the dawn was slowly breaking off in the east. I enjoyed the calm serenity of it all, although it felt like my run just kept going on forever. About a mile from the end I passed Carl, a runner from another team consisting of members of my former single's congregation. I don't think he recognized me as I went by. About a half mile from the end, I came up over the crest of the penultimate hill, and saw the checkpoint up ahead. At this point I decided to really dig in, since this would be my last chance to leave my mark on the race. After handing off the baton to Steve, I motioned to my team that I was done. And I truly was. I was tired, sweaty, and hungry. At this point, I probably didn't care to even greet my team at the finish line, and would have been content to just head home and shower/eat/sleep. My 7.9 mile race time was approximately 75 minutes.

Steve had a 9 mile run, which we labeled as "the run that went forever." Ok, maybe that's just what I labeled it. We continued on, with the remaining runners each covering less than 5 miles for their final legs. The last runner in our van finished at about 10:30, at which point we drove back to our cars and each went our separate ways. I headed home to McLean for a shower and Chipotle lunch feast (chicken fajita burrito + hot sauce, tomatoes, sour cream, corn, cheese, and lettuce = yum). I knew that if I fell asleep I wouldn't make it down to RFK stadium in time for our team's finish, so I watched a little TV and rested my legs on the couch. In the late afternoon I took the metro down to the stadium, where tents and music and food was set up by the finish line. I was fortunate that I brough my umbrella, as it started to drizzle as I waited out there for my team to finally show up.

And they did. We crossed the finish line as a group sometime after 5 p.m.

Thought Provoking Questions

I was originally intending for this blog to be about the race that I ran this past weekend, but decided at the last minute to make it about something different. Don't worry though--I will soon fill you in on all of my running pursuits.

Have you ever had someone pose you a question that changed your life? What I mean by that is: the question causes you to think about or consider something you had never contemplated before, or it causes you to see something from a totally different perspective or in a totally new light. These questions often come unexpectedly and catch you off guard. And your life is never the same again.

This happened to me when I was about 13. I can't remember where I was or what I was doing, but I do remember that I was with my father, and we were having a somewhat rare conversation for us. Rare because it was deep, rather than a superficial conversation about sports or school activities. It was just the two of us, and after chit-chatting for a bit he looked me in the eye and asked me: "What are you passionate about?"

Huh. What was I passionate about? I had never considered it before. My father went on to explain that his passion from youth had been baseball. He loved the game, and had followed all of the great players back from the 50s and 60s. Although he had never been a star varsity player, he had played all during high school as sort of a 2nd or 3rd string athlete. He went on to college for a bit, where he started writing sports articles for the school newspaper (I believe he was at Boise State). Eventually his articles got noticed by Sports Illustrated, which offered him a position as a writer. He thought about it for a while, but turned it down due to a number factors, the most prominent being his decision to finally serve as an LDS missionary at age 21. Even though he didn't get back into writing after his two years of service, his love of the sport continued on, eventually leading him to coach several years of little league baseball teams that I had played on in my youth.

Basically, pursuing his passion had led to a life full of rich experiences. No, he didn't end up in the major leagues, but his life was blessed and enriched. And here he was, asking me what I was passionate about. Unfortunately, I didn't have a clue.

Sure, I had friends that I enjoyed hanging out with. I liked (not loved) playing sports, video games were a staple of my daily routine, and I was in the school jazz band playing trumpet. But I wasn't really obsessed about any of those things. I just sort of went with the flow and had fun in the moment. I got excellent grades at school, and I had a small group of close friends. I had never bothered to consider that I needed something more. Yet here I was, confronted with the question. And it kind of bothered me that I didn't have an answer.

It took me another year or so to finally figure out my answer. As a new high school freshman and marching band member, I had to practice in the school band room during first period every day. Our band was pretty lousy, and none of us took the experience very seriously, despite a number of talented musicians. It didn't help that our teacher was suffering from lupus, and was absent almost 2 days every week. With so much downtime, we naturally turned to entertaining ourselves in ways unrelated to marching band music. One member of the drumline, a sophomore, would pull out the school's electric guitar from a small practice room in the back and jam along to a small crowd. He mainly played the latest grunge and punk hits from the mid-90s radio, and did a pretty good job.

I became mesmerized with the guitar. It was just so cool, and music suddenly seemed so much more alive for me. The trumpet had been the instrument I played to hang out with friends and be in the band; the guitar was the instrument I wanted to express my soul with. I went home and found my mother's old acoustic guitar, and leared all of the basic open-ended chords. I would strum for hours, blistering my fingers in the process. Eventually my tips got tough and leathery, and it no longer hurt to play for longer than 5 minutes. I spent hours listening to all of the rock songs on the local radio, analyzing the solos and chord progressions with an eager ear. I bought a book of guitar music for the Green Day Dookie album, and quickly learned all of the songs. In retrospect, it was a good choice because of its simplicity and rhythmical strumming. Soon after, I started writing my own songs. Many of them dealt with silly teenage topics like angst or moodiness, with the occasional goofball topic thrown in. (I once wrote a song about the cereal Trix. The chorus went: Trix are for rabbits and not for kids/I love the fruity flavors, I eat them all the time.)

I wasn't just content to write my own songs in my bedroom. I wanted to be in an actual rock band. So I saved up my money and bought a cheap Samick electric guitar and tiny Peavey amplifier (complete with grungy distortion effects). One of my closest friends bought a bass guitar and amp, and we were on our way to being rock gods. We searched high and low for a good drummer, but our school only had about 3, and they were already members of other bands. My garage band pursuits eventually brought me to another friend, Paul, who was also getting pretty good on guitar. Jam sessions were held in garages on almost a daily basis, and we had a lot of fun. Eventually I upgraded both my guitar and amplifier, settling on a bright red Peavey Vandenberg guitar that I still own (that model is quite a beast for the modest price, originally designed and used by a former guitarist of 80s metal band Whitesnake).

Our humble garage band settled on the name of "Graveyard For Lunatics," but we never went anywhere. We only played one house party, during a brief one month period when we had a drummer (who was like 10 years older than us and kind of a moron/flake). By senior year, we had gone on somewhat of a hiatus, opting to jointly purchase a used drumset and take up the drum duties ourselves. Apparently I was the best/most enthusiastic about drumming, and so we decided to write some new material that had sort of a System of a Down-but-not-nearly-as-good sound. Our only two songs were called: Fight to the Death, and You Are Fat. We also did a cover of Feel the Pain by Dinosaur Jr. We played one show during lunchtime at our high school, which evoked too much of a disturbance and led to the administration outlawing all future lunchtime concerts by student rock bands. (Cool! Ruined it for future generations!)

I left for BYU in fall of '98, where I was optimistic that I would find a group of musicians with which to make a fresh start. A few weeks into the semester, I was hanging out in the lobby of Budge Hall (where I lived) and down came this guy with a bass guitar who started jamming with some other guys on acoustic guitar. I sat in my chair, watching from a distance, trying to get a feel for how much talent was there. After several minutes, another guy came along and said that he had a drumset and wanted to jam too. It turned out that the drumset was electric, which was great for volume control. He brought that down, and a nice jam session started to emerge. Finally, when convinced that these guys were definitely at my level, I grabbed my electric guitar and joined in.

And thus The Kung-Fu Suckas/My Own Best Friend was born. We started as a trio for that semester, jamming in the basement of Budge Hall on a weekly basis and writing some new material. I sang and played guitar, Chris was on the bass, and Greg was on drums. We played a few shows, did some covers of Weezer and Blink 182 songs, and had lots of fun. Mark was brought on to play rhythm guitar during Winter semester, which turned out to be a very good move, as he made up for his initial lack of technical skill with an exceptional feel for the music and style. And he got a lot better really quickly. There were more shows that semester, a paid gig opening for the hottest ska band in Utah at the time, and a 2nd place showing in an annual freshman Battle of the Bands contest.

We each left on 2 year LDS missions, and the band reformed when we all got back to school. I had written several new songs, and our style took a more serious turn away from the light-hearted songs we had performed as freshman. More cover songs were added to our repertoire as well, notably My Own Worst Enemy by Lit and Bulls on Parade by Rage Against the Machine. We competed in the annual BYU Battle of the Bands in back-to-back years, coming in 3rd place in our first showing. We recorded our own album in 2002 (technically our 2nd, but the 1st didn't count), and played a variety of lesser campus gigs and apartment lobby parties. Eventually things ran their course, as marriages and graduations gained higher priority. Chris left for NY in late '03, and Andrew was brought in to replace him the next year on bass. Our final show was in January of '04, when we played a short set during and after a men's volleyball match in the Smith Fieldhouse at BYU.

My guitar playing kind of tapered off after that point. Without a band to back me up, I had no goal to spur me on. I occasionally played an acoustic song or two at talent shows and parties, and more rarely for significant others. The last time I performed was during a house show sometime in spring of '08, and that was on a last minute whim. Now I'm lucky if I pull my guitar out once a month to play. It's not that the love is gone, but that other pursuits have taken precedence. For quite a while I was really focused on weightlifting, and lately distance running has emerged as my hobby of choice.

But I would consider the guitar/rock music to be the things I have been the most passionate about in life. I learned that having a passion and working towards it, however unsuccessful the endeavor may be, gives you a sense of purpose and satisfaction with life. You test your limits and figure out what makes you tick. You gain confidence from having a talent that you are really good at, especially knowing that it was countless hours of practice and effort that helped to hone that talent. And being good at one thing inspires you to become good at other things. If I can become an excellent guitar player, what stops me from learning how to be an excellent chef, or athlete, or even lawyer (fingers crossed). I learned that discovering the passion within is what helps us drive forward in life and achieve greatness.

Thanks, Dad, for suggesting that I should figure out my passion(s) in life. My life has truly been blessed, through the talents, friendships, and experiences that have resulted. And it all came from one thought provoking question at the right moment.

Run, then run some more. (A prelude)

I ran cross country in high school. I never made varsity, because I was what you would call "not that fast." Also, on the days we got to work out in the weight room, I was busy doing bench presses and bicep curls, instead of toning my legs like I was supposed to. Consequently, I gained weight from muscle mass, but my legs did not get any stronger. I generally only improved my race times by about 2 minutes over the course of the season, with a pace of about 7:15/mile. Great for a jog, but not for a race. Most of the varsity girls could easily beat me. Also, my coach ended up going to jail for having an affair with a 16 year old student. Shows how dedicated he was to making me a better runner.

I graduated back in '98. I'm starting to approach middle age. I am no longer the young buck that I used to be. While my devotion in the gym has remained fairly steady over the years, I have not been so steadfast with my cardio routines. I tend to go jogging about 3-4 times over the course of a month, and then quit for the next 5. Rinse, lather, and repeat. The few times when I've buckled down and gotten serious about running, I ended up with a foot or muscle injury (or ulcer!) that sidelined me long enough to lose my enthusiasm for the activity.

So I decided on another whim to start jogging again shortly after I got married in early August. I was going out 6 days a week, and got up to a distance of about 2-3 miles a day. Nothing too extreme by any means. I just wanted to get my heart back in shape, and maybe set up a baseline in case the FBI finally calls me in for a final round of testing and physical fitness exams. Well, about 3 1/2 weeks ago I noticed an online message from a group of people in my former congregation, looking for an additional person to run on their team in the upcoming Ragnar Relay. I was tempted into responding, just because all of the people I have known who have run the relay seemed really pleased with the experience. But I wasn't sure if I was up to the challenge, especially with such a short amount of time within which to train. So I decided that I would head out jogging the next morning, and if I could complete at least 5 miles without walking, then I would sign on.

Lo and behold, I completed a 5.3 mile loop the following day. And I wasn't even wiped out by the end. So I contacted the team leader, and thus began my crash-course in long distance race training. Approximately 3 weeks have gone by, and I have trained up to a 10 mile run. A typical week for me lately has consisted of: M-4 miles, T-4 miles, W-6 miles, Th-5 miles, F-rest, Sat-8-10 miles, (Sun-rest). I've lost about 5 lbs. along the way, and I feel a lot more energetic. Unexpected blessings.

The actual race is this Friday/Saturday, and each runner has to complete three legs. I run the very first leg of the entire race, which is 8.8 miles long and follows along the Potomac River just outside of Cumberland, Maryland. Then I will basically sit around in a van while we follow the rest of our runners around over the course of the next 10 hours or so, until it is my turn again. At which point I will run my second leg. Repeat the entire process again, and then I will run my third leg sometime in the wee morning hours on Saturday. Add it all up, and I will complete over 18 miles of running by the time I'm through. My goal is not just to finish, but maintain a pace of about 9 minutes/mile the whole way through. I think I can do it.

I'll check back in a few days when the race is over, to let you know how it went. Wish me luck.

The 300 Workout Kicked My Butt

As previously mentioned, I have been doing a training crash-course for the Ragnar Relay in less than 2 weeks. Lots of jogging, and one day a week I do some speed work (sets of half-mile quick runs with rest in between). It has greatly improved my physical condition. But I didn't want to lose my respectable upper torso muscles, so I've been trying to find ways to keep those biceps while also getting a decent cardio boost.

Today I came across something online called the 300 Workout. It was used by much of the cast of the 2006 blockbuster "300" about ancient Spartan soldiers who fight a bunch of people. Never saw it, but I remember that the guys from the movie trailers were pretty ripped (some of this may have been due to special effects and ab-paint). So I decided to give the workout a try. And yes, I realize I'm about 2.5 years behind the times on this one.

The basic premise of the routine is that you have to do 50 repetitions of 6 different exercises, as quickly as possible. You go through the routine in the following sequence, and only rest when you have to. Some of the cast of the film were able to do everything sub-20 minutes. (The article above gives explanations and film clips for each of the exercises, so I'm not going to describe them too much.)

1. 25 pull-ups
2. 50 deadlifts with 135 lbs. barbell
3. 50 pushups
4. 50 jumps on a 24 inch tall box/chair
5. 50 "floor wipers" (an ab/chest exercise, see the link above)
6. 50 single arm clean-and-presses with 36 lbs. Kettlebell (I used a 35 lbs. dumbell)
7. 25 more pull-ups

It looks pretty simple, but I found that it was extremely difficult to finish. The workout is designed for someone who is already in really good physical condition, and it will build your muscle strength, endurance, and even burn fat. I thought I was in great shape before this workout, expecting to complete it in 25-30 minutes. That didn't happen.

I got through the first 3 sets in maybe 11 minutes or so, which I thought would put me on a good track to complete everything in time. But then fatigue set in. My heart was beating a mile-a-minute when it came to the jumps, and I had to break it up into about 4 different chunks so that I wouldn't pass out! The floor wipers were a lot tougher than they looked--not on my abs, but on my chest (you hold a 135 lbs. barbell straight up over your chest, arms locked, and then do leg raises into each of your arms). It takes a lot of strength to keep that barbell pressed above you! The clean and presses wouldn't have been so hard, but I was exhausted by that point and had to take many a breather, even though it was technically only 25 presses per arm. The final set of pull-ups just about killed me, and I had to do it in sets of 6 or so while gasping for air.

Word to the wise: if any of you are crazy enough to attempt this workout, don't do it on anything close to an empty stomach. You will pass out, or perhaps vomit. I felt like doing both when I was done, but got better once I put a hamburger and some orange juice in my system. Ironically, I think I may try this thing again in about 4 days, and see if I can beat my time of 43 minutes.

But don't expect to see me in the "300" sequel.

Chicken Salad to die for!

About a year ago Erica and I discovered a quaint little Peruvian restaurant just north of Rockville MD. It was good food, although most of the items were pretty standard: cuts of beef and pork, rice, plantains, ceviche, etc. But they had one appetizer that really stood out--avocado stuffed with chicken salad. It was divine. It made my mouth tingle with warm fuzzy feelings. And we have been back a number of times just to eat that dish.

So this week I decided to make avocado with chicken salad as a surprise lunch for Erica. The thing was, I had no idea how to make it. Being the resourceful young lad that I am, I scoured the internet (or "the internets" as I call it) for a good recipe. Unfortunately, most of them called for ingredients that I didn't have on hand, such as celery or various fresh spices. Improvisation was therefore needed. Taking stock of everything I had in my pantry, I quickly combined bits and pieces of several promising recipes to create what I refer to as:

Brian's Delicious Chicken Salad

Ingredients:
2 cups poached white meat chicken (shredded)
Green Pepper
Onion (yellow or red)
Raisins
Walnuts (chopped)
Mayo
Sour Cream
Salt and Pepper to taste

1. You must poach the chicken. Some of you may not be familiar with this process. Basically, poaching means cooking something in a liquid that is not quite boiling. You know how the water starts to get really shimmery as you heat it up towards boiling? Well, if you can hold it at that heat, it will be prime for poaching. For chicken, you want to either poach it in chicken stock, or water with a liberal amount of salt (I opted for the latter). Poach large chunks of chicken for 20 minutes, then cool on a plate in the fridge for about 30 minutes.

2. While the chicken is in the fridge, dice up about a half cup of pepper. I used green, but red might tast nice as well. Put the pepper in a mixing bowl.

3. Do the same thing with the onion. Dice up a half cup, put it in the bowl.

4. Add a small handful of raisins. Make sure they aren't clumped together.

5. Chop up some walnuts. Cashews might work just as well, or maybe almonds. Improvisation is the name of the game. You need about 2-3 tbsp worth. Add it to the bowl.

6. Remove the chicken, and chop it into little bits. You want it basically shredded to the consistency of tuna coming out of a can. Add about 2-3 cups of this to the bowl.

7. Now add 2/3 cup of mayo.

8. Followed by a large dollop of sour cream.

9. Sprinkle in some salt and pepper. I like it heavy on the salt, light on the pepper.

10. Stir it up, little darling, stir it up! (credit lyrics to Bob Marley)

You can put this in a sandwich, eat it over rice, or just scoop it plain right from the bowl. But for an added treat, you should serve it in an avocado half. Just find a ripe avocado, cut it lengthwise, peel each half, remove the seed, and place chicken salad on top. It is heaven.

I expect you all to try this recipe sometime soon, and tell me what you think. My one rule is that you have fun with it, and improvise if there is an additional ingredient that tickles your fancy.

Mr. Jibbles

With this first sentence I would like to not only gloss over the fact that I have neglected my blog for well over a month, but that in the meantime I also passed several major life milestones: taking the DC bar exam, getting married, cruising to Mexico (ok, maybe that last one doesn't quite fit into the "milestone" category).

My wife and I now live in a small basement apartment in Northern Virginia. It's a really nice neighborhood, which I have explored extensively while taking my daily jog in preparation for running the upcoming Ragnar Relay. Sidenote: I am up to about 7.5 miles per session, and I have also lost about 5 lbs. since starting my training a few weeks back.

One of my favorite new things is my wife's cat, Houdini. He's a charcoal gray persian, and is just one mellow little dude. We have become great friends, probably because I'm around to fill his food bowl, and I pet him if he sits next to me on the couch. My wife often calls him "Lovebug" when she wants to cuddle with him. I found that name to be disconcertingly un-masculine for a boy cat, so I decided to give him a much more manly nickname. My first choice was "Dudemeister." It seemed like a good option, considering his chill demeanor and my general appreciation of the film The Big Lebowski. Unfortunately, he just did not take well to the new moniker. He was very unresponsive whenever I called after him, and it eventually became clear that he was simply not going to be the Dudemeister I had hoped for.

After that I just couldn't think of any good masculine nicknames. Nothing seemed appropriate. Then, one fateful day, I happened to be cooking some food in my cramped little kitchen. Houdini had entered the room to inspect his food dish on the floor. I looked down at him for a moment, and then blurted out "Well hello there, Mr.... Jibbles." And he looked back up at me. Huzzah! I had found him a somewhat masculine nickname that he actually responded to. (I have no idea where "Mr. Jibbles" came from. It just sort of popped out of my mouth when I was lost for words. But now it just seems to fit.)

So now me and Mr. Jibbles/Houdini are the best of friends. And yes, I realize that this makes two back-2-back blogs with a pet theme. Just deal with it. You probably like the change of pace from the quasi-political rants and raves that general spill forth from my blog.

Me and the Kaiser

One day, I will land a decent job, pay off my student loans, and finally purchase a place of my own. Probably have some kids, upgrade my car, and maybe even buy that drum set I've been craving all of these years.

At that point, you might think all that I have left to do is ride out that crazy journey called "life." However, there is still one more dream that I need to accomplish during my mortal existence: I want to buy two dogs. Not just any two dogs, but specifically a pug and a dachsund. More specifically, the pug will be named Kaiser Wilhelm and the dachsund will be named Arnold. Willie and Arnie. Adventures will ensue.

This has been my dream for as long as I can remember. I don't know why. But it will happen, someday.

Oh yes, it will happen.

Thank you for letting me share my dream with you.

5 Most Influential Books

I decided that I would tell you guys about the 5 books that have most influenced my life over the years. I've posted links to the books below, along with a description of how they have influenced me. I hope that everyone can name off at least a few books that have shaped their concept of the world, because part of living is acquiring information and being able to use it to empower our own lives, as well as the lives of others. I'd be curious to know what some of the most influential books have been in your lives (yes, you!).

In no particular order:

1. The Book of Mormon. This one is a no-brainer. One of the foundational books of my religion, and probably the book that I have read through the most times in my life (I stopped counting somewhere around 15 times). Since most of my readers are faithful Mormons, I don't really need to elaborate on how beautiful and spiritually enlightening this book is. I will say that my favorite chapters are Mosiah 1-5. They have had a particularly strong effect on me, and have influenced me not only in ways spiritual, but also temporal and political as well. Several years back I read these verses at a time in my life when I was begin to gain an interest in politics, and as I read I received spiritual confirmation that I should be a registered Democrat. I don't take that to mean that all Mormons should do likewise (quite the contrary--I hope that many have received confirmation that they should be Republican). I realized at the time that my life experiences had shaped me in a certain direction, and that God had intended me to have certain views, knowing that I would be an influence on others in that direction. It was kind of like I had finally put together the last piece of a puzzle, and I could see the big picture. It was a reassuring experience.

2. Elements of Style. I read this book during a Persuasive Writing course in my final year at BYU. I had thought I was a good writer before taking this class, but this book really opened my eyes. I realized that the point of writing is to effectively communicate, and although rules should be learned, they could be disregarded at times as needed to get the ultimate point across. It completely empowered me as a writer. Writing was no longer some template exercise in conformity, but a chance to let my individual style shine through to get my ideas across.
--If it hadn't been for this book, I never would have started this blog.--

3. Flanagan's Run. This is a fictional book about a foot-race across the U.S. during the Great Depression (the one from the 1930s--not the one taking place right now. Yeah, that's right, I'm officially declaring our current economic state the Second Great Depression). It has a cast of endearing characters, each with his/her own unique back-story and reason for running. I first read it at my English teacher's suggestion during the 6th grade, and was completely mesmerized. When I started high school a few years later, I was naturally drawn to the cross country team. Jogging has been a part of my life in some form or another ever since. While I currently could probably only go about 5 miles without stopping to walk, there was a time in my life when I could run 10 miles, shower, and immediately head out for an evening with my friends without being any worse for the wear. I was directly influenced by this book, and how glamourous it made the running world seem. It is a must read for anyone who has ever run a long distance race.

4. The Two Income Trap. This book describes the reasons why families need to live off of one income, instead of two. It really hits home the common sense conclusion that unemployment and tragedy strike more often than not, and that a family accustomed to living off of one income will weather a storm much better than one which has built up a life based upon two incomes. If one spouse can no longer earn an income, at least the other one can step in to make up the difference. But if the family's obligations are built upon two incomes, then there is no way to bridge the gap once one spouse loses his/her job. I read this book in about two days, after suggestion from my Mother some years back. It has influenced my personal financial views more than anything else I have read. Very good common sense advice for all families, and a must read for anyone just starting to make her way in the world. Plus, it kind of vibes well with LDS theology about family and parental responsibilities.

5. Nutrition: Concepts and Controversies. This was the textbook for a BYU course I took during 2002 called Food Science and Nutrition 100. I learned tons about nutrition from this book and this course. It has really shaped how I view food and its relationship with my body. I have always been interested in exercise and weight training, and the knowledge I gained from this book really helped me focus my goals and see how nutrition is just another aspect of the equation when it comes to being fit and healthy. It was a fairly challenging course (and it was 90% female since it was a nursing pre-requisite, which kept me interested).

Honorable Mentions: The Home Workout Bible (I debated as to whether I should put this book as number 5 in place of the Nutrition book, but since I only came across this one last Christmas it defaults out of the top 5), the entire Harry Potter series (not really influential, but truly a beautifully crafted and entertaining story from start to finish), a book of Green Day: Dookie Guitar Tabs (from which I initially taught myself to play rhythm guitar, thus embarking me on a decade of garage band adventures), To Kill a Mockingbird (I can only hope to someday be half the father that Atticus Finch was), and almost all of the Choose Your Own Adventure series (who didn't love these during elementary school? I would sometimes cheat by starting from the end and tracing my way back to the start).

*Noticeably absent: Atlas Shrugged, by Ayn Rand. So many people cite this book as one of the most influential books they have ever read, that I feel it necessary to state that I was not similarly enamored with it. My main beef is that I completely reject Rand's views and moral outlook. I can see how a lot of the book's personal lessons about hard work and responsibility can shape a person for the better; however, these lessons were already so ingrained in American culture that I didn't need to read 1,000+ pages of propoganda to have the message sink in. Additionally, a study of Rand and her exodus from a communist childhood is really telling as to why she speaks so harshly against any form of government outside of a police force and military. She even argues against individuals helping others who are in need, since this may lead to the degredation of the human soul through "mooching." I'm not so sure that Jesus would agree, but then Rand was extremely anti-religion (apparently she couldn't leave behind every influence of communism from her childhood). I have found that most of the people who love this book were duped into believing that Rand had a wise view of mankind. Sorry: I was not similarly duped--"The emperor has no clothes!" (A subtle literary allusion for all of you).

So what are your favorite/most influential books? I'm curious to know.