Today’s stats:
1.2 mile warm-up 8:15 pace barefoot
1 mile 8:19 pace in VFFs
2 miles 8:06 pace in sneakers
.5 mile 8:00 pace in sneakers
.5 mile 7:47 pace in sneakers
Feet: sore. Toes: blistered. Ego: pumped.
Will you look at that speed? Gonna keep cranking those number ’til they’re all sub-eight.
Finally saw Avatar last night. And I have to say, I don’t see what all the fuss was about. Cool concept? Yes. Neat graphics? Yes. Storyline? Sure. But the lines? And the overall movie? Dumbed down. (That, and if we’re going to be picky about it, the few clips where computerized graphics and real life shots were patched together were pretty poor quality. Snapped me out of the movie and into (ugly, butchered) reality every time.)
Why so violent? Must everything be so violent? And the bad guys so greedy and bloody thirsty? Come on. We deserve better than that. Step up your game, Hollywood.
And the alien sex scene that everyone was so scandalized over? You mean I sat in Asia reading review after review of this outrageous “sex scene” that turned out to be two blue people making out for what — eight seconds?
The only other sex scene that was such a sensation that in reality was such a letdown was in Watchmen. And then it turns out that by “sex scene” everyone meant “huge dick” because one character walked around sans clothing. (Coincidentally, he was also blue.) I can’t begin to tell you how pissed off I was when those credits rolled. This was more tame, but it was somewhat anticipated. Sure, let’s blow everyone to pieces and promote hotheaded violence, but dear god no sex you immoral heathens.
All in all though, a decent film. Unique, action-packed, and reminiscent of Fern Gully, with its nature spirits and imaginative forest living. Entertaining, but not wow-ing. Next time, less violence, more sex, smarter writing.
On Saturday I had my best long run yet: twelve miles total, and clocked my first six at an average 8:40/mile pace. Stoked. Better yet, at the end, while I was tired and all too ready to stop, I wasn’t dying. I could’ve gone for thirteen or fourteen and been no worse for wear.
The great pace for the first half was due to pacing myself with some dude who is far faster than me and an ironman triathlete. He turned around at the five-mile mark and that was that. I held on until the six, and then my speed plummeted.
I passed two other girls just shy of the three-mile mark; they were keeping good pace and not easy to blow by. Another dude that I usually pace with fell behind early to chat with someone but otherwise kept the pace we usually run. When he finished a good ways behind me (in fairness to him he did thirteen) and a bit behind the two girls, he said he needed to start running like a girl.
Damn straight.
I spotted a monarch butterfly in our yard twice last week. Miami is obvs a standard pit stop along their migration route, but I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen them here before. It was so usual that I stopped and marveled both times.
Big, beautiful, bright orange. And that insane trans-continental mileage? Pretty magnificent creatures.
My brother comes home tomorrow. We three don’t exactly do so well under the same roof. That right there is possibly the largest understatement in the history of the universe. My dad keeps declaring we’ll all live in harmony with “love and respect.” And while he says that now, he knows damn well he’s going to be pilfering my mom’s antidepressants by the fistful.
Fuck. I am so not looking forward to this.
