Running Shorts

The day the music almost fried

2009-01-15T18:55:12-05:00

I’m lucky.
So are my running friends. So are you.
You—because I came this close to knocking off one of the icons of Charlottesville’s music scene.
It all started back at the end of last year when I started smelling a strange odor in my car.
I thought it might be exhaust. Maybe I had a hole in the muffler. But the muffler appeared to be functioning in the proper manner. No telltale obnoxious noises.
Over the next few weeks I gave rides to several friends. They, too, noticed the odor. Fast Kathy even said it smelled like gas.
So, it just wasn’t me. And, it just wasn’t going away.
Saturday night after attending the Dean Musser Tribute Concert at Bel Rio, I was about to tote Purple Haze and Easy Deb back to their domiciles, when Charlie Pastorfield, with guitar in hand, asked if he could get a ride to his car.
Well, of course.
That was the day the music could have fried.
Because today, my friends, I learned that my car had a major malfunction with its fuel pressure regulator.
One of the folks at the shop, which is appropriately located on Gasoline Alley, told me that the faulty part had been throwing gasoline up on the engine.
The car was unsafe to drive—or ride in. It could have caught on fire or exploded.
“You’re lucky,“ I was told
We all were.

Chip on the old 10K block

2009-01-09T22:39:05-05:00

It’s already been voted one of the best road race in the Southeast, but Mike McCormick wants more.
He’s pushing to get the Ukrops Monument Avenue 10K named one of the top 25 road races in the world.
Sheer numbers will do it, he says, and he is hoping the new disposable chips will do the trick.
Last year, some 30,000-plus signed up to run the Richmond race, but many opted not to wear their timing chips. Maybe they were walkers. Maybe they didn’t want to run the risk or expense of losing their old tie-to-the-shoelaces chips. At any rate, when all was said and done, the “official” number of finishers was clocked in at 24,055.
“Many opted out of using them, but now with the disposable timing chips, they don’t have to worry,“ McCormick said. “It will be a lot easier.“
It will be a lot easier to determine exactly how many people cross the finish line in the 10th annual race in the picturesque Fan District.
Right now, McCormick is predicting 35,000, which would put the 10K in the upper ranks of globe-wise participatory races.
It’s a lot of fun, no matter if you’re a professional runner (Teferi Bacha from Ethiopia was five seconds faster than a pair of Kenyans with a winning time of 28 minutes, 29 seconds) or a cancer survivor who is just as happy to walk the distance. (Last year, runners raised more than $500,000 for the Virginia Commonwealth University Massey Cancer Center.)
There are folks who run in costume, there will be bands, fans and, of course, the Dash for the Cash. One lucky runner’s name will be pulled at random and given a 2.4-mile head start over the first wave of elite runners. If he or she crosses the finish line first, he or she will be a couple of thousand dollars richer. Forty-two-year-old Kimberly Taylor came close last year at 29.11. Sorry, Bacha took home the extra cash.
Check it out at http://www.sportbackers.org. Race day is March 28.
It costs $25 if you register before Feb. 1 ... or before the field fills up.

iTunes is in tune with local talent

2008-10-22T15:14:00-05:00

This just in ... Shannon Worrell is back.
Her CD release party at Live Arts confirmed that she still has a poet’s voice, a musician’s ear and the ability to connect to a listener’s heart.
Even iTunes took notice.
“The Honey Guide” was released Thursday and, in a matter of days, the online music company selected Worrell’s record for this week’s featured releases in folk.
“I don’t know how they picked it,“ Worrell noted. “I had a little label in Nashville, Dualtone, who is distributing it digitally for me but they aren’t marketing it.
“Maybe it’s the artwork. It looks very charming up there.“
Maybe they like the music, too.
“I’m very happily surprised,“ she added. “I hope people go download it this week.“
Sounds good to me.
As do Sam Wilson and Brian Caputo of Sons of Bill, along with the likes of Sarah White, Charlie Bell, David Lowery, Kristen Asbury, all featured on “The Honey Guide.“
And ... speaking of hearts. Did I mention that Worrell donated ALL the proceeds from Monday’s CD release party to Live Arts?
Tune in to iTunes.

More tickets available

2008-10-20T15:59:00-05:00

Good news for those who didn’t get tickets to Shannon Worrell’s sold-out CD release party and benefit concert at Live Arts tonight.
The concert has been moved off the rooftop and down to the main stage, which means there will be more room for fans.
So come on out and listen to her play.
“The Honey Guide” is Shannon’s fourth full-length CD—she has had songs featured on other compilations—and her first in eight years. I’ve heard it, and it is darn good. I know many of you may have heard her performing in Paris Match or September 67 or as a solo artist back in the day, so you know she has the pipes. If you haven’t had the pleasure, here’s your chance to sample another homegrown talent and support community theater. Proceeds from tonight’s show will benefit Live Arts.
Megan Huddleston opens the show at 7 p.m. Shannon, accompanied by a full band of friends, will follow.
Tickets are $15.
Log on to http://www.livearts.org to make your purchase.
See you at the show.

Trouble on the road

2008-10-15T19:00:00-05:00

I broke one of our cardinal rules.
Well, it turned out to be more like a vulture rule, I guess.
I went bike riding alone.
When I was a wee one I used to bike everywhere, any time, with or without accompaniment. Of course, back in the pre-stoned age, bikes didn’t have gears. Tires were fat. And everyone knew everyone and every car in our small hamlet. Life was simple and biking was, too.
Today ... you don’t ride alone.
You might get run off the road while trying to change one of the myriad gears with the doohickey that never seems to work properly. You might run off the road while trying to put your water bottle back in its proper cage. You might run off the road when 15 yappy dogs chase you, nipping at your skinny tires. You might fall in the middle of the street when you can’t get your fancy shoes unclipped from your fancy pedals.
Do I sound like the voice of experience?
There also is the chance that you might just end up in a ditch when a car passes just a little too closely.
Or you might have a flat tire.
Yesterday was beautiful ... 80-some degrees. Frankly, it’s harder to ride this time of year, when the air gets colder, the dark comes earlier and each of your biker buddies has a life.
So not wanting to waste the golden sunshine, I got my bike and headed to Earlysville.
It was glorious. The sun was shining. The leaves were changing. I left early so the traffic was light. At mile 15.6 I was just thinking how lucky that I was the only member of our biker clan that hadn’t had a flat tire.
Bleepf, bleepf, beepf.
The back end was behaving badly.
Sure enough, I had a flat. Darn thorn.
Not to worry—I had a pump. I pumped and rode. Pumped and rode. Pumped and rode.
By the fourth stoppage to re-inflate my uncooperative tire, I pulled out my cell phone and called ... Easy Deb.
I could have very easily called any one of the Sisterhood of the Traveling Long Black Pants, but I knew Deb was the closest.
“Hello.“
“What’s up?“
“I have a flat.“
“Where are you?“
“Yappy Dog.“ (That’s the name we call the route because of the above-mentioned collective of canines.)
“I’ll be right there.“
And she was.
Easy Deb left work, put my obstinate two-wheeler in the back of her brand new used Saab, toted us both back to safety, then rode off into the sun rise.
And no “I told you so’s.“
Just a good friend.

A good night at the Emmys, for some

2008-09-22T19:05:00-05:00

Congrats to Tina Fey.
It’s been a good month for the University of Virginia grad. Her portrayal of GOP vice presidential candidate Sarah Palin on the season opener of “Saturday Night Live” had fans and NBC bigwigs hoping that she will return again and again.
Sunday night, Fey added more gold to her trophy case. At the 60th annual Emmy Awards, Fey was voted the top lead actress in a comedy for the second year in a row. She also picked up another Emmy for best writing in a comedy series. All told, her show, “30 Rock,“ was nominated for 17 statuettes.
But there was more good news on the semi-local front.
“Autism: The Musical” won an Emmy for nonfiction special. Before it appeared on HBO, however, the documentary was shown in Charlottesville last year at the Virginia Film Festival.
Director Tricia Regan and producer Perin Chiles were both at the Paramount to discuss the film, which documented five autistic children who wrote, rehearsed and performed their own full-length musical.
And then there are those of us at The Daily Progress who feel we can predict the Emmy winners. We did. We did it badly.
There were 15 categories. The most we guessed correctly was seven.
We were skunked on reality host (Jeff Probst.) We also were woeful with all things supporting. All six of us missed supporting actor and actress in a comedy (Jeremy Priven and Jean Smart) and supporting actor and actress in a drama (Zelijko Ivanek and Dianne Wiest.)
But here’s how we finished. Yours truly tied with assistant city editor/music critic Josh Barney with the above-mentioned lucky seven. The trio who actually write and edit for our entertainment section—Jane Norris, Ben Wood and David A. Maurer—tied for third with four right. Our special guest, TV host Andrea Copeland, had a correct feeling that Kathy Griffin would win her second Emmy.
By the way, Griffin also was in Charlottesville not too long ago for a one-woman show at the Paramount.
Come to think of it, Tommy Smothers, who will be at the Paramount with his brother Dick on Thursday night, was honored for his writing achievements at the Emmys.
Hey, and then there were all the local extras (hi, Dan) who had cameos in the multi-award winning miniseries “John Adams,“ which was filmed outside Richmond.
You just never know who you will meet on our streets.
Stay tuned. This year’s film festival guests will be announced later this week.

Charlottesville has grown quieter without the music of LeRoi Moore

2008-08-21T13:45:00-05:00

Our melody has turned to melancholy.
But that hell of a band in heaven just got a whole lot better.
We will miss you, LeRoi.

We are crazy. Thank goodness for Us

2008-08-11T17:38:00-05:00

What doesn’t kill you ...
So we, or at least four of we, decided to go bike riding on Sunday.
We is part of a much larger group that I call us.
On Thursday members of us were all over the place. Three went swimming, two kayaked, three took off biking, a handful were running and I believe two more were considering tennis.
Us is an active bunch.
But on Sunday, we could only convince part of us to play on what was supposed to be a nice leisurely 31-mile bike ride.
Perhaps it was the Olympics on TV.
Perhaps they were sane.
After tooling around Crozet for about five miles waiting for the threatening clouds to either pass us by or send us to Dairy Queen, we decided that the sunny sky was a good omen.
We clipped in and were off.
Almost.
“Falling!“ was heard.
One of we was on the ground.
Two Hello Kitty bandages were applied to a knee and we were off ... again.
For the time being.
About 11 miles later, the storm clouds returned just as we had climbed what HAD to be the highest point on the route. As lightning began to flash, we decided that we were not in the best of locations. High mountain, under trees, a power line humming overhead, sitting on metal bicycles.
What to do?
Do we try to retrace the 11 hilly miles back? Do we forge ahead 20 unknown miles? Was there a shortcut back to our cars?
Lightning flashed closer.
“I’m scared.“
The rain started.
“I’m wet.“
We hunkered down on the ground.
“I’m cold.“
So we did the only wise thing we did all day. We called Fast Kathy.
We thought she might know a fast way home ... but the cell phone kept cutting off.
Fast, who is a part of us, tried to give directions, but at this point, we—Easy Deb, Purple Haze, Her-Mix-A-Lot and yours truly—were trapped.
A man came by, rolled down the window and informed us that the storm should pass in an hour.
We laughed.
But then along came another car.
It was REAL BIKE RIDER ANNE. Fast Kathy had called a friend, who lived somewhat nearby, and this wonderful woman jumped in her car, tracked us down and gave four soggy strangers a ride back to safety.
We are eternally grateful.
Are there lessons to be learned?
Sure.
1) Always know the route before you take off.
2) Always honor the clouds.
3) If Fast Kathy doesn’t ride with you, always have her phone number.
4) Whenever faced with the decision between ice cream and biking ... always opt for the Blizzard. Or extra french fries and onion rings.
5) And remember, what doesn’t kill you only makes the friendships stronger.

One hot time at MS Tour de Vine.

2008-06-30T18:13:00-05:00

I don’t know why it has taken me so long to write about the MS Tour de Vine.
Perhaps my brain was fried ... or perhaps I have a tendency to block out things when I don’t do them as well as I would have liked.
You see that weekend—- the hottest weekend of the year—was a weekend filled with anticipation, perspiration and frustration.
If I recall correctly, it was either Prince Amy or Fast Kathy who thought it would be fun to ride our bikes in the fundraiser for the National Multiple Sclerosis Society. (Some 500 bikers did raise more than $380,000.)
Tour de Vine ... a bicycle ride with rest stops at area wineries, that sounded great. Her-Mix-A-Lot Anne was in. So Easy Deb and I, well, we said OK, even if we didn’t have pedals that clipped onto fancy bike shoes. Shoot, we weren’t even sure how to the change the gears on our new bikes. But we wanted to ride with our friends.
And winery rest stops sounded great.
(Let me tell you right up front, there were rest stops AT the wineries, but they were not IN the wineries. Sorry, no tastings for road-weary bikers.)
But Easy lined us up with a riding group to train for the event. For weeks, Juan Ascoli taught us the ins and outs of keeping the chains on the bikes, climbing hills, road safety and generally keeping vertical while on two wheels. After a practice ride in Greene County, we felt pretty good.
Our goal was to ride 50 miles the first day ... and at least 50 or more the second day.
Anne had another goal. She wanted us to camp.
We all—except Amy—said “NO.“ Quite emphatically.
So, naturally, the night before the biggest physical challenge I was ever about to endure ... we were pitching a tent in the heat on the grounds of St. Anne’s-Belfield.
Fast supplied the tent and a canopy ... and, for some strange reason, a baby swimming pool.
That pool became the hit of the weekend. As the heat index soared into triple digits Friday, Saturday and Sunday, we met tons of nice folks who stopped by to cool their toes in the lukewarm water. People brought ice, people brought beverages, people brought good conversation. I remember that well.
It was the riding part that I tend to block out.
I don’t know if it was the heat, or the fact that I had a cold, or that fact that I just needed to have practiced a whole lot more, but although I started off well, I began to falter somewhere around rest stop three.
Fast was still fast, and luckily was able to catch up with some of her Boar’s Head cycling buddies. (They were way cool and seemingly unfazed by the heat, leading me to realize that the man who sold me my bike probably was correct when he said, “You aren’t a biker.“)
But I plugged along up what seemed to be never-ending hill at Batesville and made only one non-scheduled stop when a bug flew in my shirt.
The next thing I remember we had finished 50-plus miles and I was sitting by the baby pool, when a cycler from a nearby tent asked me if I had any aspirin. He was packing up and heading to Richmond to stay with friends for the night. As I got up to search in the oven that had been our sleeping accommodations the night before, I became dizzy.
Deb, ever the smart one, said we should check out the showers, which we did. Only I remember I ended up in the shower with my clothes on.
I was still a little foggy when I met back up with the rest of the crew for some much needed beverages and dinner—- back outside at St. Anne’s.
Deb, just a tad prickly from the heat, announced that it was too hot and she was going home to get a good night’s sleep. Everyone thought that was a reasonable idea. Except Anne. She really likes to camp. So Amy, ever the trooper, stayed with Anne at our campsite. Fast convinced me to enjoy the air conditioning at her home, which revived me mightily.
Except for my cold and the heat and the lack of my skill.
So when we lined up Sunday morning, we agreed that we would go to the first rest stop (which was not at a winery), before determing which distance to complete.
It was hot, even thought it was 6:30 in the morning. But I wanted to do 50 more. It didn’t take long to realize that that was not going to happen.
Before I got out of the parking lot ... I got into an altercation with my bike. It cut my shin and bruised my thigh, but I won the battle and was soon biking up Old Lynchburg Road.
Feeling that my cold medicine might have added to my dehydration woes of the day before I opted to ride sans nose woofer or little red pills. (Take it from me. Take the medicine.)
Anyhow, after barely making it to the first stop, my weary legs and heavy breathing made me give in to my wiser riding buddies. We would do the shorter 25-mile route.
I know Kathy could have gone more, the others looked fresh as sweaty daisies, too. I felt frustrated that I was holding them back. But after I ran off the road while trying to replace a water bottle and made another unscheduled stop to relieve my stomach of the weight of too much rest-stop goodies ... (They have GREAT rest stops. I loved the sandwiches of peanut butter and the sandwiches of ice cream) ... I headed back to camp.
We were rewarded with medals, certificates and another fine meal.
But it was still hot. Way hot.
So, we do what we do.
We stayed outside and cheered on our friends and friends whom we didn’t even know.
Then we went back to our newly iced-down baby swimming pool and we sat and talked and laughed and shared beverages with friends old and new.
It had been a long, hot and draining weekend, but we were among the last to leave.
And you know what: I can’t wait to do it again.
I love a good challenge. And I love my friends.

Let’s hear it for the birthday girls

2008-06-17T18:23:00-05:00

For those who hate getting older, consider running.
Once every five years, a runner becomes the baby in a brand new age division.
This past week, two members of the running-biking-kayaking-tubing-wine tasting-pool playing-bowling-camping-Wii boxing-sumo wrestling-book club turned younger.
The first, I Am Not Cheese, celebrated her 55th on Thursday. See, I didn’t use your name, Trish.
On Saturday, another teammate, whom I will refer to as Fast Kathy, celebrated her 40th.
An “0” birthday is a big deal, in our circles.
So, when we found out that Fast’s husband was serving up a nice, respectable braai for family and FBUs (friends before us), we showed up, too. Roughly about 20 of us.
We showed up, in what was not expected to be a “birthday” party, in festive dress to mark such a happy milestone.
We wore black.
We brought black balloons, black noiseless makers, black hats, a black boa, black bean salads and beverages of every shade.
I heard that some pink “friends” showed up, too. But, unlike us, they hung out in the front yard, stayed much too long and didn’t clean up after themselves.
But we had a blast. We met some wonderful new people—(and all are more than welcome to join RBKTWTPPBCWBSWBC)—- and we celebrated with friends old and young.
We just hope we didn’t scare you, Mr. and Mrs. Fast Kathy’s Mom and Dad. We really are a nice bunch, even if we did break into an off-key version of “Happy Birthday” every time someone said the word “birthday.“
Birthday?
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU,
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU,
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE PERSON I WILL REFER TO AS FAST KATHY WHO IS NOW OLDER THAN TOMB DUST,
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!