A Run in Pictures

Having found out that my camera case slips nicely onto the belt of my water bottle holder, I took my camera on a run with me just before Christmas. We start on my street having just left my driveway:


Past the neighbor with the horse:

Out onto a secondary road:

Past Flat Pond:


Past the new development where they're cutting down a lot of trees to put up mini mansions:


Past the cutest little humble house in town:


Past the field with cows, but sadly the pigs aren't out today:


And finally, around the quaint little country store before heading back home:

Mill Cities Relay Race Report

So why exactly am I standing outside in the dark at 6am on a cold Sunday morning in December with 50 other people? It’s the pre-race meeting and “pep rally” for the Squannacook River Runners just prior to this year’s Mill Cities Relay. I’m severely undercaffeinated. It makes it more fun to try and recognize people who are bundled up beyond recognition. Our club had eleven teams of five runners each. Somehow my teammates and I are able to find each other and hop into a minivan. To make that a bit more of a challenge, the teams were reshuffled late yesterday.

Since I am neither driving nor the team captain, I didn’t think it was important to know details such as where the race actually starts. That changed the moment I saw our fearless leader attempting to both drive and operate a Garmin at the same time. Suddenly I’m the navigator trying to give directions to… um… that green circle on the way zoomed out printout of the city map.

Actually it was pretty easy to find. At this hour in the morning, most of the traffic in that area was people heading to the race, so you just follow a car with a 26.2 sticker on the back. There were many to choose from. Interesting side note: Of the 5 people on our team, I’m the only one who hasn’t run a marathon. Yet.

The race starts at 8am, and also around that time everybody who isn’t running the first leg is hopping back into their cars and heading to the first exchange point. This leads to a bit of gridlock between runners on foot and runners in cars. Plan for a bit of delay if possible. Worst case scenario is that a runner is faster than expected while the drive takes longer than expected.

Luckily that didn’t quite happen to us. We showed up at the exchange point for the start of my leg with about 15 minutes to spare. I had just downed a GU and was about 50 feet into a slow warm-up jog when I hear my name being shouted frantically behind me. I turn around and see Frank (who has our team ”baton”) go past. Turns out we miscalculated his estimated arrival time, and he was running a very fast leg to boot. So much for a warm-up, let’s start by doing a full out sprint trying to catch up with Frank as he does his finishing surge to the handoff point.

It’s slightly downhill at the start. According to my watch, I’m running the first quarter mile or so at a sub seven minute pace. This can’t last. So I back off to what would still be a personal record smashing pace for me of about an 8-minute mile. A few people start running past me. They’re flying. Nobody has ever passed me so decisively in a race before. I check my watch. Yep, faster than I’ve ever gone before. Hmmm…

This shows the two key differences between a relay and a normal race. First, unless you are running the first leg, you’re not quite sure exactly when your leg will start. Second, which also does not apply to the first leg, you can be way behind slower runners and way ahead of faster runners.

Back to the race. My stomach is telling me it doesn’t like sprinting immediately after having a packet of GU. My legs are telling me they don’t like sprinting the day after doing a long run. So I backed off to something that was barely a personal record pace for me. I’m still running faster than I ever have in a race. So why is everybody passing me?

What always amazes me is that no matter how exhausted I am, when the finish line (or handoff point) is in sight, the body finds a way to go a little faster. I finished my leg averaging my fastest race pace ever at the end of my longest week of running ever. Adrenaline is a wonderful thing.

And this is where I’ll end the story. Everybody on the team beat their estimated pace for the day, and we finished twenty seven miles in a total of three and a half hours. That won’t win any prizes, but it was solidly in the middle of the pack, and a really adventuresome way to spend a Sunday morning.

Potpourri #1

Instant messaging is a great way to communicate. It’s more real time than e-mail, but you can actually be somewhat involved in other things without being rude. Problem is Facebook chat has been unreliable, so conversations seem to just end suddenly. That or I’m offending all of my friends.

There’s slightly less than 60 hours until the Ayer Thanksgiving day 5K. Hell yes I’m excited about it. This will be the third straight year I’m running the race. The best way I can think of to spend a holiday is to be surrounded by friends doing a positive and healthy activity.

I bought a neti pot today for $12. In terms of price for expected function, it’s a good value. Several people I know rave about them. On the other hand, I spent $12 for about as much plastic as you get for free with a gallon of milk and a handful of individual salt packets. Not sure a used neti pot is the way to go either. Once it’s been stuck up your nose, it’s basically yours for life.

Can’t believe so many stations are playing Christmas music around the clock already. How about waiting until December 20th? Time to break out the Guns ‘n’ Roses CDs. I don’t see Axl Rose writing any happy holiday tunes. Ditto for AC/DC, unless you count “Big Balls”, which is about parties and sort of festive.

I rotated the tires on my truck this past weekend. Keep tire wear even is the least of my concerns. Checking that the tires are wearing normally, that the suspension doesn’t have any loose bits, and that the brakes have some life left are the real reasons for rotating your tires. As a bonus, should you find your tire flat in the parking lot, you know your wheels aren’t rusted onto the hubs and your spare is ready to go.

And last but certainly not least, hiking/running up Mt. Wachusett was a great experience. I found out that I can hike in my trail running shoes and run with a backpack on. So when you combine being able to jog the flat and smooth sections while hiking the steep rocky sections, you get an awesome workout at a reasonable heart rate. Great way to cover some serious distance.

I’m also finding that I dislike hiking in boots. It seems that in the process of supporting your ankles, they transfer a lot of load onto your knees and hips. On an uneven trail, sometimes it’s simply easier to have your ankle rotating all over the place and your leg gets to stay straight.

Tire Tribulations and an Outhouse

In retrospect, Tuesday’s tire tribulation was the turning point for my week. I had a solid plan for running. The alarm was set for Tuesday morning, and I got up, had my breakfast, got out the door earlier than usual and had an awesome run on what was a dreary and almost rainy morning. Everything was right with my world. And then I noticed the tire that was almost flat.

Now here is where my mental processes tend to go a bit wonky. You’d think I’d be rather happy to catch a flat tire in the garage, at home, where we happily have more cars than drivers. This should only be one level up from a blown light bulb.

But not quite. In my mind, I recalled how I recently drove around with a leaky tire and a bike pump in the back seat for about a month until finally getting around to buying a new set of tires. New tires are supposed to hold air. This was a violation of contract. How could the tire do this to me? Tires have evil intentions, I know it.

And then I think about the remnants of the old outhouse sitting next to the driveway. They were supposed to be hauled to the dump a couple weeks ago, except I needed the truck for something else while the dump was closed, so it all got emptied out. A few weeks went by and I never got around to hauling them to the dump. In fact, I had blissfully forgotten that this chore even needed to be done.


So it’s not just a flat tire, it’s a history of procrastination and suddenly seeing all the things that need doing. How am I ever going to stick to my running plan with all these other things that need procrastinating? I need to spend lots of time worrying now, don’t I? Therapists make a living off of this kind of thinking.

But wait! Here’s an opportunity to have a calm and rational reaction to the situation. An opportunity to begin building a new habit of sticking to an original plan while making reasonable adjustments, if needed, as things come up. Okay, in that moment, it was really difficult to see opportunity.

But on Wednesday, I tricked myself by adding “remove flat tire and replace with spare” onto my running plan. Now I’m not dealing with a hassle anymore, I’m exercising. I like exercise; it makes me healthy and optimistic. And it turns out that jacking up a car on a cold morning is so much easier when your muscles are loose and you’ve already worked up a bit of a sweat. And as it turns out, there was an easy to see nail in the tread. Should be a simple flat repair. Toss the flat into the back of the truck and go on with my day.


On Thursday, I ran some intervals, and took the flat tire back to NTB for a free flat repair.

On Friday, which was a planned rest day, I loaded the outhouse remnants into the truck along with some other trash and hauled them off to the dump (oh, excuse me; it’s now called a “transfer station”). After getting up early for hard runs on Tuesday and Thursday, it was positively delightful to sleep in until 7am and take a leisurely side trip to the dump. As a bonus, since they had to weigh my truck before and after, I now know that my pickup truck with an empty bed, half a tank of gas, and me driving weighs an even 5,000 lbs.

So not only did I stick to my original running plan for the week, I handled an unexpected tire problem and also did a task I had been procrastinating on. Forget the cardiovascular benefits of exercise, simply creating a plan and sticking with it as other things come up feels awesome.

What a great week! The irony is that without the flat tire, I probably would have stuck with the run/work/sleep routine and not gotten the outhouse bits to the dump. So it was a better week because something went wrong and I rose to the occasion, and then kept going. Now if I can only do that without the bit about the flat tire.

Need for Speed

Let me start by saying I’m having dreams of running a full marathon in 2011, specifically the BayState marathon in Lowell. This race has two key advantages. First, I’ve run the half-marathon version already, and am familiar with the start and finish portions of the race. Second, the Squanacook River Runners, of which I am a member, manage one of the water stops. And thirdly, it’s only a 30 minute or so drive from home to the starting line. Okay, so I can’t count very well tonight.

Not that I’ve put a lot of thought into this (okay, maybe I have), but being able to reliably finish a marathon in under 5 hours seems like a good goal. Most marathon courses close after 6 hours, which means no more water stops or traffic cones, and probably no medal at the finish line. So if you plan for 5 hours and have a bad day, you’ll probably still finish in under 6. Or at least so goes my thinking.

And if you combine the two half marathons I’ve run, you end up with a time somewhat over 5 hours. I need to get faster. I also need more endurance, but building endurance hasn’t been a problem for me. I just go slow and take walk breaks and can go quite a long ways.

As luck would have it, I’ve got two races coming up in the next month, the Ayer Thanksgiving 5K and the Mill Cities relay race. The fun part of the relay is I don’t know how long a leg I’m going to need to run yet.

So my short term goal for the next month is to get some good speed work in, and not focus so much on the total weekly mileage. I’m thinking tempo runs on Tuesdays and interval runs on Thursdays. Wednesday would be an easy run. Monday and Friday off. And a good long slow run/walk or trail run on the weekend, just so I don’t lose what endurance I might still have.

Okay, now that my plans are in the public domain, I am honor bound to follow them, right? If anybody is reading this, send encouragement please!

Hitting the wall? Or something else?

My body has finally said “ENOUGH!” This message was brought to me by a sharp pain in my chest. Not quite like a heart attack, but more like having your back go out, except the pain is in the ribs/breastbone. This is now a routine signal that my body gives me when I overdo it with the exercise.

I believe what I am experiencing is called “costochondritis”. The careful reader will notice the lack of the phrase “I have been diagnosed with costochondritis by a doctor.”

Several years ago, I did go to the ER during an episode, in the hopes a doctor would be able to tell me to either take an antacid (heartburn), or take an ibuprofen (some kind of muscle/tendon/cartilage problem), or get a quadruple bypass (hope not!).

It turns out that if you go to the ER with chest pain, they aren’t really concerned with diagnosing the cause so much as ruling out the possibility of a heart attack. So after much ado, the result was “we don’t think it’s your heart, avoid overdoing the exercise.” Ugh.

Some time later, I finally had an appointment with my regular doctor. I mentioned the occasional chest pain, the fact that I seemed to sleep a tad more than necessary, and how if I took a few days off from exercise, my pain levels would increase instead of decrease. She looked in my ears and said “This could be Lyme disease, have you ever been bitten by a tick?”

“Only several times a year for most of my adult life. Did I mention I grew up in Connecticut, where Lyme disease was invented?”.

“Let’s do some blood work.”

And so my blood was analyzed in great detail. And my Lyme test came back negative. But it turns out a negative result doesn’t rule out the possibility of chronic or long-term Lyme infection. There were other aspects of the tests that suggested Lyme disease, but of course it can’t be proven one way or the other.

Adventures in medication and supplements followed. Some success was had. But I’m still skeptical about the actual diagnosis. So I’ll say I have Lyme*, with the asterisk, to indicate that it’s only a best guess.

Which brings me back to hitting the wall. After several very energetic days off from work, involving cutting firewood, picking up leaves, and lots and lots of running, I’m exhausted and my chest hurts. Is it Lyme*? Or did I just run into a figurative wall when I reached the limits of how much physical activity my body is currently capable of? Either way, it seems like a good idea to curl up in bed with a book and get a good night’s sleep. A few days rest and I’ll be recovered and back to running and procrastinating on my chores.

Town Forest Race Report

It's not like I want to decide who lives and who dies, but I really am okay with deciding who gets to park at the senior center and who must drive down the road, park at the DPW building, and walk an extra quarter mile to registration. It's one of the duties that goes along with helping direct traffic at the Town Forest Trail Race. It's quite hectic about 45 minutes before the start of the race. All the runners arrive at the same time, and we do our best to park what we can in the lot and in the woods at the senior center. But there's a large turnout, and we simply don't do this for a living.

Luckily, runners are a happy-go-lucky bunch, and other than a few stressed-out expressions on the faces of some late arrivals, everybody cooperates without a fuss. And I do mean everybody. Nobody parked in the fire lane or out on the highway, which would not sit well with the fire department or police, respectively.

But not only am I helping out with the race, but I'm also entered into it. So with very few minutes to spare, I'm off to my car to shed a few layers, pin on my race number, and quaff a GU. It only vaguely resembles Clark Kent using a phone booth. Grab a cup of Gatorade and hit the mens room. No line! Then off to the start of the race.

I'm literally the last person to arrive at the starting area, with exactly 10 minutes to go before the race starts. I bump into Razi and Kim in the crowd, and meet Kim's new friend Ken, who takes pictures of other runners while trail racing. Far away race director Paul Funch is making some announcements using a bull horn that I can barely hear. Kim asks me what he said. I reply "He sounds like Charlie Brown's dad". And we're off...

As background, this is only my second ever trail race. In my first attempt, I went off course and ended up with a DNF. No worries here, as the pack is relatively large, the course is extremely well marked, and wrong turns are marked off with police tape.

I've also been standing on my feet or walking around for several hours before the race, and haven't had a chance to do any pre-race rituals such as stretching. I normally don't stretch before running, but usually my legs aren't tight from being on my feet for hours either. So I start off and run a slow comfortable pace with Kim for the first mile. Except that we're running a sub-11 minute pace, and normally a training run in the woods is about a 13-minute pace for me. Okay, so how soon before I poop out and am forced to walk a bit like what happened in the half-marathon a month ago?

Except the weather is much cooler today. My legs loosen up. The pack starts to thin out. I take off, just in time to hit the single tracks going up and down steep hills.

I've never run a race on single tracks before. It's tricky to see the footing when you're following somebody. You worry about slipping and creating a domino effect of falling runners when going downhill. In front of one of the professional photographers. This would be what we call embarassing.

Passing takes cooperation on a single track. Usually, I was content to match the pace of the person in front, since by now I was really pushing myself way beyond what I usually do in training. My heart rate monitor is reading something in the 180s. I'm breathing very heavy. I don't pass the runners in front of me so much as they pull aside to take a walk break. And of course, with open trail in front of my I must step up the pace.

Running in the woods is actually a lot of fun. The trail is always turning or going up and down, so your mind is constantly busy figuring out where to place each step. You don't get the "brain off" effect you get running on the roads. The only time I slow to a walk is up the steeper sections of trail. And when I say steep, think of climbing a ladder.

I finally caught up with Ken the running photographer at.. well, I forget how far it was. But I do remember being about 50 feet behind him for about half a mile, before I was able to get close enough and catch enough breath to let him know I was there and get a few pictures snapped. I hope he got my good side!

And finally it's back to the relatively flat gravel road, and my watch let's me know I'm past the 3 mile mark. For reasons that I cannot fathom, I pick up the pace even more. I'm now running around an 8-minute pace. Heart rate is 190 and climbing and I don't care. I've got to much of an adrenaline rush going to worry about numbers. And the finish line is in sight! Maria gets a picture of me in full sprint on her iPhone. I finish around 35:10. Yahoo!

I hang around at the finish line for a while, walk back to the senior center and chow down on some yummy baked goods, but strangely don't get much of a sugar rush out of it. And more hanging out until all the runners have finished and it's time to clean up. It should be noted that after running through the woods for 35 minutes, over rocks and roots, the closest I come to face planting all day is when tripping over a chair in the senior center. Go figure.

The hardest part of cleanup is trying to remember how the tables senior center were laid out when we got there. Apparently they're very particular about things being put back in the same place. I picture Grandpa Simpson complaining about his favorite chair being an inch off of where it was last week.

And that was my first ever experience with the Town Forest Trail Race. A most excellent, low-key event.

How to measure your running mileage

The first rule of distance running is that you always round up, so 4.00001 miles is actually a 5 mile run. Once you get into double digits, odd number are optional. That means once you hit 10.0001 miles, you’re on a 12 mile run. And of course, anything over 20 miles gets rounded up to the next multiple of 5.

Now that that’s out of the way, the easiest way to figure out how far you’ve run is to use a sport watch that measures distance, either with GPS or a sensor in your shoe. Of course, using technology makes it so easy it feels like cheating. After all, when Philippides finished up at the battle of marathon, he didn’t strap on his Garmin before returning to Athens to deliver news of the victory. And given the rounding rule above, it’s a good thing he was a warrior first and not actually very much of a runner, or else today’s marathons would be 30 miles instead of 26.2.

Another option is to use a website like www.mapmyrun.com to figure out how far you went. Of course, if you can’t remember your exact route, err in favor of the longer option, and then round up as usual. For those of you who are old fashioned, a paper map and a ruler can also be used.

And finally, you can estimate your distance using a stopwatch. For example, let’s say you ran for 27 minutes and 5 seconds, and once in your life, you ran a 9 minute mile. So of course, at a 9 minute pace you would have run just a tad over 3 miles, which makes it a 4 mile run.

See? This is easy!

A Tale of Two Mountains

There is a mountain in my basement. It is made of out of all sorts of stuff. Papers, parts, tools, toys, widgets and knick knacks. I could go one of two ways with this mountain. One option is to add to my collection of stuff until the mountain is so big I end up featured on the show “Hoarders”. The other, more preferable option is to get rid of the stuff I don’t truly need, and organize the stuff that remains.

The other mountain is Mount Monadnock. Famous for being the most hiked mountain in North America: http://www.theheartofnewengland.com/travel/nh/mt-monadnock.html And it’s about a 40 minute scenic drive from home for me.

This week is my company’s summer shutdown, so I decided to take advantage of the time off and make an assault on both mountains. I’m happy to say that the view from the top of Monadnock is spectacular, and there’s free watermelon on the summit. Or at least I was lucky enough to be at the summit on the same day as a guy training for Mt. Ranier who decided that a 23 lb melon was a good simulation of the load he’ll be carrying on that hike.

On the other hand I’ve barely made a dent in clutter mountain.

And now for the inspiring portion of today’s post. Reaching the summit of Mount Monadnock is not something I did on a whim. Okay, back in my 20s I did go with some friends on a whim and climb the mountain. But I was younger and exercising regularly back then. In my 30s I became a lot more sedentary, and as a result my hikes started ending well short of the summit. Usually I had a convenient excuse involving the weather or impending darkness. But it’s an unavoidable fact that sitting at a desk does not a mountain man make.

I’m now in my 40s and back to regular exercise, and I noticed the difference on my hike. It wasn’t an ideal day. In fact it was the hottest day in several years with oppressive humidity. But a combination of conditioning and an adequate supply of drinking water made for a successful hike.

And so it is with clutter mountain. While I was “busy” allowing my body to atrophy I also allowed the clutter to build. It’s taken several years to get back part of my physical conditioning, and I expect it will take years to fully organize myself. A large part of both is simply developing the correct habits that will lead to fitness and organization.

Habits are built by repeatedly making the same choice again and again. It’s very easy to choose watching TV instead of putting things in their proper place, especially if some things don’t have a proper place yet. I’ve done quite well at developing the exercise habit, now it’s time to build some better organization habits.

Isn't it ironic

It occurred to me this morning that when life is interesting, and there's lot of things to write a blog about, you usually don't have a lot of spare time to write in a blog. Conversely, when you do find the time and peace of mind to do so, you're probably bored and don't have much to write about. Or so it seems.

Anyway, today is the Boston Marathon, and I'm travelling into the city with a load of stuff to set up a hotel room for club members to crash in and recover after the race. It's a day for getting out of my comfort zone and breaking all the rules, real or imagined. Rules such as "don't drive into the city when there are lots of crowds and road closures", or "no check-ins before 2pm".

This is all just a warm-up. Someday I'd like to run in the race, but the logistics of doing so are just mind-boggling to me right now. It's 8:30am right now, which means 25,000 runners who have been up for hours already are hanging around in Hopkinton in 40 degree weather waiting for the race to begin. They'll generally finish between 5 and 7 hours from now when it's much warmer and they've been running for hours.

So in addition to being in shape to run the race, you also need to be able to stand around for hours both before and after the race, and you need to plan for some sacrificial clothing to keep you warm before the start, but will be discarded along the route (I do wonder what happens to the cast off clothing of all the runners). And then, you also want to have another set of clothing waiting at the finish to keep you warm after the race.

And this is where I come in. I won't be bringing clothing along, but will be begging hotel housekeeping for towels and soap for a number of runners. I'm sure hotels have rules about such things too. Oh well, rules are meant to be broken for the greater good.

Tom vs. the Couch

Ken: Hello and welcome to another round of non-celebrity boxing! I’m Ken Wiggles

Larry: And I’m Larry Noble. Folks, we have an excellent match for you tonight. There’s been an ongoing grudge between Tom and the Couch and the Couch has had the upper hand since it was moved closer to the TV.

Ken: Let’s go down to the ring for the introductions.

Ring Announcer: Good evening ladies and gentlemen! In this corner, weighing more than a breadbox but less than a gorilla, wearing grey sweats, Tom!

[[ Crowd cheers! ]]

Ken: He looks like an underweight Rocky Balboa

Larry: Yes he does, not to mention grey sweats went out of style by the time Rocky II came out.

Ring Announcer: And in this corner, weighing enough that it’s perfectly fine where it is, we don’t need to see what it looks like in the other corner, wearing burgundy mohair upholstery, the Couch!

[[ boos, catcalls ]]

Ken: And the bell rings for round 1, and Tom immediately hops into the car to meet somebody for a 10 mile run. Wow, what an opening!

Larry: Well, Tom has always been strong in the opening rounds, but the Couch has never been an opponent that can be taken out quickly. It likes to let the competition wear itself out, then asserts itself in the later rounds.

Ken: Round 2, and the Couch comes out strong. It’s using indecision about what to have for dinner to lure Tom in. But wait, Tom showers, shaves, puts on some decent clothes, and takes his wife out for dinner. Holy cow!

Larry: Very nice escape of the indecision trap. Tom’s been putting a lot of effort into remembering there’s clothes in his wardrobe besides T-shirts, and it really paid off here.

Ken: Round 3, and the couch has lured Tom into its grasp with morning coffee. And the headphones are on! The headphones are on!!!

Larry: The Couch has really been building up it’s collection of soothing music. It’s gotten really good lately at getting a hold of Tom and not letting go.

Ken: Tom fights back. He’s off the couch and paying bills online. Now he’s outside and getting the hose out.

Larry: Looks like he’s going to wash the car. Very interesting strategy to use a relatively easy and low intensity activity to keep moving after the run yesterday.

Ken: But Tom is obviously showing signs of fatigue. He goes into the basement looking for the hose nozzle, then back to the garage, then back to the basement before finding it.

Larry: This is how the couch works, it waits until you’re not at your best, then tempts you with relaxation and the promise that there’s no wrong way to lay on a couch.

Ken: And he forgot to turn on the faucet for the summer, so it’s back into the basement again. All those stairs have got to be doing a number on Tom after all that running yesterday.

Larry: Not to mention all the bending over trying to rinse salt off the underside. But Tom is comfortably dressed for the cool air, and he’s filled the bucket with warm water, so he’s gone out of his way to make this task pleasant.

Ken: He’s finishing up now. Wheels washed, looking for any spots he missed. And he goes inside before cleaning out the bucket and winding up the hose! Oh no! What a stunning turn of events.

Larry: Tom was looking so good, and then the couch blind sided him with lunch and a Nascar pre-race show. He’s down. He’s contemplating a nap. The referee begins to count.

Ken: And while the referee is counting, let’s take a break for a word from our sponsor: Rest-EZ mattresses.

Change Your Oil in 10 Easy Steps

This weekend I decided to greatly reduce my time spent surfing the internet, a decision slightly influenced by the fact that our cable modem hasn’t worked since Thursday. Thank you Charter, great customer support. And the cable bill is lightly less than what one would pay a therapist for help with internet addiction. But I digress.

I really wanted to talk about car maintenance and (lack of) fashion today, and share the tips and tricks I’ve learned over the years for doing an oil change. Trust me, this is advice you won’t get anywhere else.

Step 1: Warm up the car and raise the front end slightly. I prefer driving up onto a pair of scrap 2x10’s left over from construction of the garage.

Step 2: Change into clothes that are so dirty and worn out you wouldn’t use them for rags. If you have long hair like me, wear a hat and tuck your hair up under it. Today I wore my purple and yellow Minnesota Vikings knit hat with the pom-pom on top that went out of fashion shortly after it was given to me in the third grade.

Step 3: Place a pan under the car and remove the drain plug. Let all the oil drain out and replace the plug. To prevent over-tightening, grab the wrench halfway up and only use a moderate amount of force. That way you’ll have much more leverage and strength available to loosen it next time.

Step 4: Realize you left the filter and oil in the house so it would be at room temperature and thus easier to pour than toothpaste. Make sure the coast is clear when walking from the garage to the house because you don’t want the neighbors to see you in an out-of-fashion Vikings hat. When you fail to do this, duck around the back side of the garage until they’ve finished driving by.

Step 5: Prefill the new filter about 1/3 of the way, put a trace of oil on the gasket. Move the drain pain under the old filter, clean up the oil that just sploshed onto the floor, then remove the old filter and install the new filter.

Step 6: Change the radio station because you can’t stand to listen to Katy Perry ever
since she started hanging out with that British guy that has worse hair than you. It doesn’t matter that you’re married and she’s half your age and not your type anyway, it still bothers you.

Step 7: Pour new oil into engine. Pour old oil into an empty gallon jug (washer fluid bottles work well). When you remember that your cold holds six quarts, get a second gallon jug and pour the remainder in there. Clean up the oil that overflowed from the first jug. This is easy if you put the jug into a cardboard box lined with newspapers before pouring in the old oil.

Step 8: Katy Perry on this station too? Change to classic rock. Decide that listening to “Mustang Sally” while working on a Mustang is corny, but tolerable.

Step 9: Wash up, change back into clean clothes. Start up car, drive off ramps, check for leaks, then shut off engine and verify oil level, which is really verifying that you could count to six when adding oil.

Step 10: Finish cleanup, don’t worry about getting the drain pan too clean because it’s just going to get more dirty oil in it next time. Write blog entry, and vow to get some better old clothes for next time.

A (not so) Sticky Situation

Blog Reboot! It’s time to get off my duff and start doing things. Yes, I do realize that writing a blog does involve sitting on one's duff. Please don’t distract me with such details.

Today I decided to do something after work that did not involve sitting. Not sure exactly what that was, I went straight into the basement and found a box of, um, “crap”, that was rescued from dad’s workshop. First thing on top of the box was a roll of adhesive pipe insulating tape. Great! Our hot water pipes could use some insulation against the cold basement. Should make for slightly warmer showers.

So, in a manner totally uncharacteristic of somebody so fond of procrastination, I instantly got out the stepstool and proceeded to start wrapping a pipe. Okay, there’s a little bit of technique to this. It seems to be going on a bit lumpy, and it isn’t sticking all that well. Better get the package and double check the directions. Hey look, the price tag is from Bradlee’s. Didn’t they go out of business 20 years ago? Actually they went bankrupt in 2000, according to Wikipedia, but judging from the packaging and the price ($1.50), this is old stuff.

What we’re dealing with here is some ancient adhesive that lost its stickiness probably around the time Reagan left office. Acutally, if I Google “mortell pipe insulation”, the most recent reference I can easify find is in the May 1977 issue of Popular Mechanics. Hello Jimmy Carter!

Thus, initiative was shown, a valiant attempt was made at putting something to use. But in the end, it will take too much effort for a sub-standard result. If I really want my pipes insulated, there’s better and easier alternatives available today. As much as I hate waste (and I do hate it in neurotic proportions), I’m gonna have to convince myself that chucking this stuff is the right thing to do.