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 I have decided to write an e-book. Most everyone is doing it these days, and it seems to be a venture that is both profitable and enjoyable. They always say, "write about what you know" and "find a niche" and all that, so this book will be about me and the intervals I ran at lunch today. There is a growing trend, in which I have dabbled, to share the minutiae of one's training via social networks. Today, when I "tweeted" my "peeps" about the pending workout, the response was phenomenal! It was then that I decided to take this shit to the next level. E-book. Here are some notes I jotted down after the run. Now, this is just rough. Keep in mind that the finished e-book will fill in the gaps, be much more polished, and will be well worth the $5.00 or whatever I decide to charge.
Potential Titles:
- "All About My Intervals Today" (really like this one)
- "Feel Bad About Your Training By Reading About How Awesome Mine Is"
Chapter One: Getting Pumped
- Tweeting my peeps - Gathering up my shit and getting changed - Oh snap! I forgot my shoes and have to walk back to my office to get 'em
Chapter Two: The Warm-up
- I like to warm up slow and you should, too
- Maybe a little bit on how running in South Tacoma sucks
Chapter Three: The First Effort
- The starting of the watch - How I pump my arms and how you should, too
Chapter Four: The First Rest
- This can basically be about how resting is nice - Maybe a poetic bit about how you notice birds chirping when you rest
I'm not really sure how to make the other four intervals sound different from the first one, because they weren't different at all. But I will work on that for the final version.
Chapter whatever: Bringin' it Home
- How I try to not stink up the whole office after a run
- Eating a sandwich
I dunno. Like I said, it's rough. Let me know in the comments what feedback you have and maybe, like, how much you'd be willing to pay for this crap. Thanks! I love my readers!
 Brooks Racer ST-4 shoes, broken-in just enough to be comfortable, not enough to risk getting them dirty. Brooks ID singlet, emblazoned with makeshift Tacoma Runners patch. Brooks Sherpa shorts, appropriately named for the epic journey ahead. It's all about the kit, the one thing I can control about tomorrow's Tacoma City Marathon. Everything else is unknown. Did I train hard enough? Will I be able to get a decent night's sleep? Will it rain? Will I have to stop and poop at mile 13? Is this dull pain in my knee going to explode mid-run? The days leading up to a marathon are fraught with these worries.  Which is why I'm thankful for Lisa, my biggest supporter and race-day cheerleader, sewing on the club patch. This will surely be good for a 5 second-per-mile boost. Her mere presence somewhere out there on the course, good for another 10. When it really hurts tomorrow, I will think about how she accidentally sewed this singlet to the pillow underneath... and I'll smile.  Tomorrow I will regularly check my dad's old-ass Timex Marathon to see just how far I've fallen off my ridiculously lofty goal. I'll think about the miles it's seen, the splits it has frozen in time, and the man who wore it before me. And my struggles will seem small. In a little over 12 hours, the gun will fire. Shortly thereafter, the anxiety that's prompting me to now scrutinize every aspect of my training, my nutrition (or lack thereof), and the tiny aches in my legs will... disappear. It will be a battle in which my only allies are a pair of really clean shoes, a singlet sewn with love, and a watch that transmits the energy and wisdom of a dozen marathons before. It's all about the kit.
 Body by Pabst. Logo by Stowe.Folks in our running group have been asking about t-shirts for awhile, but I knew the beershoetacomadome graphic I cobbled together wouldn't cut it for a nice screen-print. So... we contacted local illustrator d'awesome, James Stowe, for help. Raising the funds ('cause the good shit costs, man) was painless. The friendlies at kick-ass bar and hot doggery Red Hot even raised their hands! The logo looks rad. I wonder if Stowe will charge extra royalties if I get it tattoed. Depends on where, I suppose. Thank you, everyone!Ginger Anderson, James Duggan , Exit133, David Gale, Robert Gale, Angela Gow, Lilly Hsu, John McClimans, Douglas Pariseau, Daniel Richards, Red Hot, Jenika Hedlund Sannes, Susie Saturated, Colleen Heuiser Schmidt, John Rossetto, Alicia Wilkinson. Bacon for you all!
 I love it when a plan comes together. This week, the Tacoma Runners' Thursday Beer Run will prance around T-town in dresses, spreading the kind of good cheer that can only be conveyed with activity-inappropriate clothing. The debacle is being sponsored by the Tacoma blog, Exit133, our own Grit City Self Propelled, and the Harmon Hub. The Hub, in addition to providing a venue for 20 or so sweaty runners in questionable evening wear, has offered awards for our prize packs, plus a FREE large pizza for every seven people that show up. Wow. That our little group continues to grow and generate excitement in the community never ceases to amaze me. And the way Tacoma residents and businesses rally around fun activities like the ones we're putting on is inspiring and energizing. Thanks to Matt at Tacoma Bike Ranch for introducing us to the folks at Harmon. And thanks to Derek at Exit133 for being the biggest t-town advocate this side of Wild Waves. I'll post up some photos and an account of this disaster in a few days.
Same streets, same trees, same dirt, grass, concrete, and railroad tracks. Same time of day, same routine to get ready, and the same, skip. Same, skip. Same music on your mp3 player. When "regular" runs get to be a chore, it might be time to slow down. Slower. Slower. Stop. Bend down and touch the asphalt your feet pound every day. Lean over the railing of that bridge you always run across and see what's down there. Yesterday I took our crappy little point-and-shoot along on my "regular" lunchtime run. I wanted to see these seven miles in a different way. Or perhaps more accurately, to be reminded of the intricacies I've come to ignore. Some of the photos were taken on the move, others while stopped. Stitched together, they tell the story of a run in the dirty, beautiful, broke-down town I love. Just another run.
 Hardly a day goes by that either Lisa or I don't proclaim our love for this town. Tacoma has given us room to stretch our legs, courage to try new things, and fresh perspectives on the meaning of community. It's given our kids more stability and a better shot at success — even if they don't realize it yet. Grit City is the backdrop for our next chapter, and the prospects are exciting...
Tacoma Runners. “I would never belong to a group that would accept someone like me as a member.” -Groucho Marx Lisa and I solved Groucho's conundrum by starting our own club. In the Tacoma Runners, we've found kindred spirits and a weekly date night. It started with a simple post to Twitter... "Trying to gauge interest in a Tacoma running group. Laid back, beer-centric."  The first jog went down a few days later, with six like-minded beer runners. Last week we drew over 30, and organized a one-lap backwards race as part of the run. We even found some sponsors to fill prize bags with t-shirts, gift certificates, and booze (thanks Doyle's, O'Malley's, and Grit City Self Propelled). This is all-new territory for us, and we had a great time doing it. Next chapter indeed! Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=302380360090----------------------------------------------Grit City Self Propelled. Recognize that name from the sponsor list above? I've hesitated to mention GCSP here, lest it fall victim to "the curse". See, we've tried to get a similar venture off the ground in the past. Twice. Both times, after a mention on this blog, the websites vanished mysteriously. So what's gonna make this one different? Place. GCSP is starting from an honest, simple place. It's starting at home. We'll be a resource for Tacoma's cyclists, runners, walkers... everyone living (or aspiring to) an active life here. And we hope to become an advocate for those groups in the shaping of public policy and infrastructure as the city continues to grow up. Again, all new territory for us.
Twitter: http://twitter.com/gcselfpropelled
----------------------------------------------So there you have a peek into two of our new, ongoing adventures. Our energy seems to be building... no doubt thanks to the wonderful people we're meeting, and the encouragement that comes from seeing our kids thrive in new ways. Thanks for having us, Tacoma. We hope to bring you very, very much of the awesome.
 This could get ugly.
 I've never caught the bridge deck of the Murray Morgan in the raised position. Wish I would have been there when they brought 'er up. In any case, it made a perfect frame for Mount Rainier on a clear and bright Tacoma morning. Bring on the sunshine... we're ready to play outside.
 This is our coffee shop. Worn wood floors, well-used tables, mismatched chairs. Vintage light fixtures, some hanging, others on tables. Fireplace or pot-bellied stove in the middle of the room. Sunken area with a big, wrap-around couch pointed at an old 1940's tv console that has been hollowed out and had a new set placed inside. Bearskin rug. That's right, I said it. The tv will show old bike races and running events... live broadcasts when they're on. The walls will be a showcase for local artists, including our kids. We'll carry a small selection of basic bike parts, nothing exotic. And we'll do free, simple repairs while you enjoy a cuppa joe. On another wall, we'll carry a couple different types of running shoes. Only stuff we wear and love ourselves. There will be a small shelf of local, bottled micro-brews for sale, and possibly some unique glassware from the breweries. Outside there will be a fire pit, and we'll project classic outdoors movies onto the wall. We'll sponsor races and rides. You'll want to hang out here. It will be a clubhouse for anyone living a life self-propelled in Grit City.
 A forewarning: This is going to be one of those posts where I grab onto my horn with both hands, dig in, and toot loudly. Paints a picture, don't it? Anyway, on to the news... Brooks Running has managed to look past my unhealthy obsession with beer and bacon, and selected me for its ID (Inspire Daily) program. I've been a fan of the local company for some time, so it's exactly like the cool kids waving me over to their lunch table in the 7th grade. Except this actually happened. I'm a Brooks groupie for several reasons. They have a commitment to helping runners develop at every level of the sport, they produce excellent gear, and they back it up with good service. Also — and this speaks to me as a marketer — Brooks has an uncommon attention to individual customers, especially via social media. Larger companies don't even come close to feeling as personal and approachable. I am pumped to be a part of the Brooks team and I look forward to bringing my loyal readers (hi, Lisa) more product reviews and other fun stuff. This is gonna be rad.  Also on the awesomeness front, Tacoma Runners is having its second (week) anniversary run tomorrow night. We leave from the mighty Red Hot on 6th Avenue, at 6:30pm. Check the Facebook group for more details, yo. The club is turning out to be kind of a fun endeavor. It's a great group, and we somehow managed to get through last week's inaugural run with no injuries and nobody (as far as I know) getting 86'ed from the Parkway. Heck, examiner.com even caught wind and wrote a little story. It'll be interesting to see where this goes. Lisa and I are thinking about races, themed runs, and other ways to grow the group and keep it fun. Alleycat race with tequila checkpoints, anyone?
A left turn off a fast, flat section and my bike commute immediately grinds to a near-halt. The hill. Shift down. Click. All the way down. Click, click. I lower my head and settle into a different frame of mind. I get hot and wish I could take off my jacket, but that would mean stopping and there's no way I'm stopping. And then, from somewhere on my left... "Enjoy your ride!"Startled back to reality I lift my head and look around. There, at the end of his driveway checking the mailbox is an old man, 80 years if not 90, waving and smiling as I pass. "Thank you, I will," is all I can muster through labored breathing. Eyes forward, keep pedaling, and then...
"Atta Boy!"Many things have been yelled my direction while cycling. It's part and parcel of what Bike Snob calls "the indignities of commuting by bicycle" and you get used to it. But atta boy? My mind begins to fill with scenarios from the old man's past that would make him sympathetic — no, enthusiastic — about seeing two wheels roll by. He was once a bicycle courier, battling cars and trolley tracks and cobblestone streets in 1930s Tacoma. Or maybe he was a board track racer in the waning years of the great six-days, for whom the sounds of chain and cog stir deep emotions. Then again, it's entirely possible he's just a guy who still remembers his first bike, baseball cards in the spokes, and that feeling of sweet freedom.  To the old man... thanks for making my day. I did enjoy the ride.
 If you're a regular reader (hi, Mom), you know that three of the most pervasive themes around here are running, beer, and Tacoma. I've been thinking lately about ways to combine this most righteous trinity, and recently floated the idea of a laid-back running club to my Twitter and Facebook homies. Seems there's actually some interest, so... Join us for the inaugural run this Thursday (January 28), 5:30pm, at the Parkway Tavern! We'll do 3 miles at a "social pace" and end back at the P'way for a pint or two. If it works, we'll do it again next Thursday from a different watering hole. I'm resisting the urge to register a domain, get shirts printed, and start looking for investors... but I am very excited about the possibilities for this club. Come on out and be a part of it! If you have any questions, just drop 'em in the comments. Please also comment if you've got ideas about what makes a good running club, as I have no idea what the hell I'm doing.
UPDATE: Join the new Facebook group for news and info on future runs.
1) Kiss wife 2) Busch Light 3) Pre-fab dinner from Omaha Steaks 4) Busch Light 5) Play with idiot dogs 4) Busch Light 5) Busch Light 6) Kiss wife 7) Busch Light 8) Break into old art supplies and make something... 
Digging the work of this Tacoma poster collective, most of it done with traditional printing processes and tools. Also feeling very tiny in the knowledge that, while I'm busybusybusy manufacturing desire with emails and websites, art is being made all around me.  Beautiful Angle
Tacoma native Murray Morgan wrote much of the famous Seattle history narrative "Skid Road" while serving as a bridge tender here, high atop the span that would later bear his name. It's remarkable, especially if you're into objects that exude pure mechanicalness from every square inch. Amid safety concerns, the bridge was closed to vehicle traffic in 2004... and its fate is now unclear. Much like Tacoma itself, the span seems to teeter on some unseen precipice — praise and permanence on one side, disregard and decay on the other. There is a new Eleventh Street Bridge now, just a little farther down the waterway, and it's a real beauty... modern, artful, metropolitan. Seems the questions will soon come again: Can we move Tacoma forward without allowing its past to be erased? Is it possible to craft a new urban environment that embraces the grit and industry that built this town? Or are we already down a path that will whitewash history with short-sighted planning and "me too" construction? 
My bike commute takes me over this Tacoma train yard twice a day, and each time I think about the model railroad I built when I was a kid. For a period of six or seven years, I spent most of my free time in my parents' basement, creating an empire. Centerville was the name of the town. While other kids were out getting in fights, stealing candy bars, and kissing girls, I was building the Centerville Post Office from plastic, creating trestles from balsa, and raising mountain ranges from plaster. But I never had a train yard like this, and always wanted one. Lately my youngest daughter has been asking to go to the neighborhood hobby shop. I think she likes to hear about my old railroad, and how you can make a pretty believable tree from a twig and a piece of moss. She wants me to bring my train stuff home from Montana — it's all in boxes now — and start a new empire in our basement. We'll be doing that real soon. And I think Centerville will finally be getting that yard it was missing. 
Try this on your next bike commute. When you feel yourself zoning out, getting immersed in the up-down-up-down metronome... stop. Spot a path you've never taken, and ride toward it. See what's at the end. I promise you'll only be couple minutes late to work. And you might get to finish out your ride whistling Otis Redding. 
The Eells Street Bridge. This is one of the rare places I ride the sidewalk... because there is no shoulder, and the big rigs rumble through this part of town with little regard for tiny men in neon jackets. I've probably biked or run across this bridge 500 times. But it took the simple act of stopping to actually feel the old girl. When a truck does roll by, her steel girders flex and give, creating a wave-like motion under one's feet. It's unsettling, but also a fascinating testament to the way even the most solid objects in our cities live and breath and move. 
I love commuting by bike. It is wonderfully fulfilling to be both relaxed and focused — lost in pedal strokes and passing asphalt, yet acutely aware of the surrounding world's rhythms. I become so immersed in this experience that I rarely stop. But it recently occurred to me that the simple act of stopping... unclipping from the pedals, breathing, and looking around might add a whole new level of enjoyment to the prosaic, point-a-to-point-b commute. Today I stopped, glanced over to the west, and caught this great fall vista. Tomorrow I'll stop, too... check back then. 
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