TBA is striking the Steelcase Duathlon off our schedule on account of the weather. Well, actually it's on account of the weather and Matt's bitchiness. But then again he's always bitchy so who knows.
In other news, we have refilled our supply of wristbands. The wristbands are embossed "Team Bad Ass" and "Hurry the fuck up!!!"
They cost $2, although we'd be happy to barter.
Saturday, April 24, 2010
Race Report: Strider's Ten Miler
Jim here. Matt has likely not even begun to write the Saugatuck 10K race report, so maybe this one will hold you people over. And if he doesn't get it done in a week, I'll post my version. So basically, you'll be reading my report in a week.
Anyway, the Strider's Saturday Classic is a ten-mile race held in Grandville, MI by a local shoe store. Actually the race takes place in neighboring Walker, but who really gives a shit. Neither Matt nor myself have run a ten-miler before – we did a half-marathon at the end of last year's race season, but that was mostly run at a slow jog.
We picked the event because it was a week after the 10K, but three weeks before the 25K Riverbank Run, and four weeks before the Rockford Marathon. So the basic idea was to incorporate progressively longer races into the schedule as a means of making sure we were hitting our distance goals. One of the problems we ran into last year was we half-assed our training after finishing the triathlon and woke up one morning to realize that we had a race the next day. Not going to happen this year.
Like so many of these things, the organizers clearly did not subscribe to our lifestyle choices. Neither Matt nor I would ever plan a race that starts at fucking 8am. What kind of stupid shit is that? Who do they expect to show up, eighty-year old bluehairs and NORAD employees? Certainly not drunks or people with lives.
Anyway, to lessen the degree to which morning activity universally sucks, I drove down to the shoe store the day before to pick up our race packets. I figured it might save us fifteen bloodshot minutes in the morning. For the first time in Team Bad Ass race history – and what a storied volume it is – I was assigned a lower race number than Matt. Usually, he gets one number lower than me, or they do it alphabetically, and I still get fucked. But not today, for today I am the cock of the walk!
We're actually getting pretty good at going to sleep at 3:30am and waking up at 7am – I only had to slap Matt in the face twice to get him up. We ate some oatmeal,and hopped in the car. On the way down there Matt ate a banana in the car and upon finishing it, he nonchalantly threw the peel out the window and onto the highway. And after I had just barely finished eating my banana, Matt snatched the peel from my hand and it too went out the window. I think he just enjoys littering; maybe I should start using the window locks.
We got there about 7:30am and it was probably between 35 and 40 degrees outside. We both decided to stick with shorts, albeit with long-sleeve technical t-shirts instead of the short-sleeve jobs. We did our usual Gold Bond and nipple-tape routine and walked over to the start line. There was no individual, chip-timing at this race, just the clock time. I was disappointed at first but it ended up not being an issue because there weren't too many people ahead of us; it probably only cost us maybe 5 seconds or so.
The course was a relatively simple, out-and-back affair with water/Gatorade stations every two miles. Whoever picked the course must have had a Mont Ventoux fetish, because there were some decent hills. Our pace was quicker than I expected it to be, sub-8's the whole race. We need to start focusing on keeping the pace down, and on keeping it constant. Hopefully the upcoming 25K with get us tuned up and thinking about the marathon.
Matt and I stayed relatively close together for most of the race. At about the four-mile mark, I opened up a gap between us while heading down a hill. I thought he was right behind me for the next few miles, but I had actually widened the gap. Apparently I am really fucking fast.
At about mile 6, I crossed paths with Kayla, a TBA supporter and loyal reader of the TBA training blog. I didn't see her wearing the wristband though.
The hills were brutal. Not too long or too steep, but too frequent. Even before the midway point, my calves were aching from the hills.
With about a mile to go I looked at my heart-rate monitor and saw that I was already cooking pretty good, 180bpm, and I wasn't sure if I could kick into overdrive and actually make it to the finish line. But I said, “Fuck it.” and gassed by a couple people in front of me. I beat out this one guy right before entering the chute at the finish line. It was a good thing too, because if that race was ten yards longer, I would have had to walk to the finish.
I ended up clocking 1:17:36, came out to about 7:45/mile. Good enough for 103rd place out of a field of 271 and 14th in my age group out of 23. Not the best, but considering there wasn't a bicycle involved, not too shabby.
I stood there catching my breath waiting for Matt to finish. He crossed the finish line with a look of sheer fatigue on his face, clocking 1:18:58 equating to a 7:54/mile pace. Earning him 116th place overall and 17th in our age group.
I thought for sure that we were going to get smoked in this race, but we managed to maintain our usual, middle-of-the-pack performance. Worth noting is that the winner of the race finished in 54:01. That means that he was running a 5:24/mile pace. I cannot imagine running one mile in 5:24, and here's this asshole running ten in a row.
While this wasn't the longest race we've run (the half-marathon was three miles farther), due to the hills it was probably the hardest. Not to mention the fact that we had a killer pace.
All in all a good day for Team Bad Ass.
Jim out!
Anyway, the Strider's Saturday Classic is a ten-mile race held in Grandville, MI by a local shoe store. Actually the race takes place in neighboring Walker, but who really gives a shit. Neither Matt nor myself have run a ten-miler before – we did a half-marathon at the end of last year's race season, but that was mostly run at a slow jog.
We picked the event because it was a week after the 10K, but three weeks before the 25K Riverbank Run, and four weeks before the Rockford Marathon. So the basic idea was to incorporate progressively longer races into the schedule as a means of making sure we were hitting our distance goals. One of the problems we ran into last year was we half-assed our training after finishing the triathlon and woke up one morning to realize that we had a race the next day. Not going to happen this year.
Like so many of these things, the organizers clearly did not subscribe to our lifestyle choices. Neither Matt nor I would ever plan a race that starts at fucking 8am. What kind of stupid shit is that? Who do they expect to show up, eighty-year old bluehairs and NORAD employees? Certainly not drunks or people with lives.
Anyway, to lessen the degree to which morning activity universally sucks, I drove down to the shoe store the day before to pick up our race packets. I figured it might save us fifteen bloodshot minutes in the morning. For the first time in Team Bad Ass race history – and what a storied volume it is – I was assigned a lower race number than Matt. Usually, he gets one number lower than me, or they do it alphabetically, and I still get fucked. But not today, for today I am the cock of the walk!
We're actually getting pretty good at going to sleep at 3:30am and waking up at 7am – I only had to slap Matt in the face twice to get him up. We ate some oatmeal,and hopped in the car. On the way down there Matt ate a banana in the car and upon finishing it, he nonchalantly threw the peel out the window and onto the highway. And after I had just barely finished eating my banana, Matt snatched the peel from my hand and it too went out the window. I think he just enjoys littering; maybe I should start using the window locks.
We got there about 7:30am and it was probably between 35 and 40 degrees outside. We both decided to stick with shorts, albeit with long-sleeve technical t-shirts instead of the short-sleeve jobs. We did our usual Gold Bond and nipple-tape routine and walked over to the start line. There was no individual, chip-timing at this race, just the clock time. I was disappointed at first but it ended up not being an issue because there weren't too many people ahead of us; it probably only cost us maybe 5 seconds or so.
The course was a relatively simple, out-and-back affair with water/Gatorade stations every two miles. Whoever picked the course must have had a Mont Ventoux fetish, because there were some decent hills. Our pace was quicker than I expected it to be, sub-8's the whole race. We need to start focusing on keeping the pace down, and on keeping it constant. Hopefully the upcoming 25K with get us tuned up and thinking about the marathon.
Matt and I stayed relatively close together for most of the race. At about the four-mile mark, I opened up a gap between us while heading down a hill. I thought he was right behind me for the next few miles, but I had actually widened the gap. Apparently I am really fucking fast.
At about mile 6, I crossed paths with Kayla, a TBA supporter and loyal reader of the TBA training blog. I didn't see her wearing the wristband though.
The hills were brutal. Not too long or too steep, but too frequent. Even before the midway point, my calves were aching from the hills.
With about a mile to go I looked at my heart-rate monitor and saw that I was already cooking pretty good, 180bpm, and I wasn't sure if I could kick into overdrive and actually make it to the finish line. But I said, “Fuck it.” and gassed by a couple people in front of me. I beat out this one guy right before entering the chute at the finish line. It was a good thing too, because if that race was ten yards longer, I would have had to walk to the finish.
I ended up clocking 1:17:36, came out to about 7:45/mile. Good enough for 103rd place out of a field of 271 and 14th in my age group out of 23. Not the best, but considering there wasn't a bicycle involved, not too shabby.
I stood there catching my breath waiting for Matt to finish. He crossed the finish line with a look of sheer fatigue on his face, clocking 1:18:58 equating to a 7:54/mile pace. Earning him 116th place overall and 17th in our age group.
I thought for sure that we were going to get smoked in this race, but we managed to maintain our usual, middle-of-the-pack performance. Worth noting is that the winner of the race finished in 54:01. That means that he was running a 5:24/mile pace. I cannot imagine running one mile in 5:24, and here's this asshole running ten in a row.
While this wasn't the longest race we've run (the half-marathon was three miles farther), due to the hills it was probably the hardest. Not to mention the fact that we had a killer pace.
All in all a good day for Team Bad Ass.
Jim out!
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Update. Oh and TBA needs your help again, twice.
Jim here for TBA.
So this was the last week of our P90X class. We signed up for another session, but we will only be doing one day a week – the idea being that we will be transitioning into more of a cardio-based program in preparation for our early, run-heavy race season.
As of today, we are 69 days away from our first marathon and we are nowhere close to being in any kind of shape to run it. If it were held tomorrow, I'm confident we could finish it, but certainly not with the sub-4-hour time that we are striving for.
Training has been going well. We've had a series of incredible strength -training days with a few cardio days mixed in. It is going to be tricky to get out of the lifting habit and into the running/riding habit. Hopefully the warmer weather will help, but I still foresee it being more difficult than trying to shove a wet noodle up a tiger's ass.
Moving along...
The demand for TBA wristbands was astounding and our supply was almost instantly overwhelmed. But worry not, more are being ordered so you can continue to send me messages about how you need/want/deserve/demand one. But you should be aware that the next version of the bracelets will not be as cool as the originals. And Matt is to blame.
Matt objected to the profanity contained in the “Hurry the fuck up” message debossed on the reverse side of the band. I personally do not see what the problem was, but so as not to offend his delicate sensibilities, I shall acquiesce to his faggot-ass grievance and change the fucking wristband text. See, there is a reason why I am so well known for my selfless attitude and eagerness to please everybody. Or maybe I caved so easily because I already have one of the original bracelets and don't give a damn what the new ones say. Direct all of your negative comments to him, as he is actually the one to blame. I mean, shit, the word “ass” is in the team name.
So anyway, because one fucking pillow-biter has a problem, I am left with the unenviable task of choosing an alternative message. No matter what I pick people are going to bitch - "I want the one that says 'fuck' ", "This new slogan is stupid", "Matt really does blow dogs for quarters"...well you see how it's going to go. That's probably the reason he bitched in the first place, so that all our your subsequent bitching would give me a fucking aneurysm.
I'm tempted to use one of the failed official motto entries from a couple months ago, but it needs to be relatively short in order to fit on the wristband. So the options are “Trample the weak” or “Nut up or shut up”. Take your pick. And please just vote for one this time. If I check my email and read "I like them both" again....voting for all options does not help the guy making the fucking decision. I should just have them all made up with “Matt is a fag” printed on the back, just for the inconvenience. (That may be going a bit too far; the “Matt is a fag” t-shirts are probably enough.)
I'm likely going to regret this, but I guess there is always the slim possibility that one of our loyal fans will come up with the winning message. I'm offering a free TBA baseball cap to whoever comes up with something better. But if your idea is shitty don't be surprised if I show up at your house and take something.
Moving right along...
TBA is currently competing in a fitness challenge sponsored by the Grand Rapids area YMCAs. It's a March Madness-style bracket challenge that pits us against other teams. To advance each team must complete a series of specified exercise programs or fitness goals (run 6 miles, complete 8 strength training exercises, ride a bike for 30 minutes, etc). In addition to the exercise program, each team must earn points by completing feel-good tasks like volunteering, reading, helping neighbors, and raising money for the YMCA Strong Kids charity. So far we have raised 80 dollars and have made it into the third round!
You can help too. Donations are tax deductible and donors will receive TBA merchandise!
If you don't help, Matt says he is going to kill a puppy. I think he means business too. Seriously, the last time I saw that look in his eye...well let's just say that when I regained consciousness, I was bare-assed naked in a truck-stop shower stall, scrubbing myself raw with a Brillo-pad and a gallon of laundry detergent. I still haven't been able to get clean. Another reason why Night Train fortified-wine ought to be illegal.
Email us at goteambadass@yahoo.com for more information or with your general, inane uselessness.
So this was the last week of our P90X class. We signed up for another session, but we will only be doing one day a week – the idea being that we will be transitioning into more of a cardio-based program in preparation for our early, run-heavy race season.
As of today, we are 69 days away from our first marathon and we are nowhere close to being in any kind of shape to run it. If it were held tomorrow, I'm confident we could finish it, but certainly not with the sub-4-hour time that we are striving for.
Training has been going well. We've had a series of incredible strength -training days with a few cardio days mixed in. It is going to be tricky to get out of the lifting habit and into the running/riding habit. Hopefully the warmer weather will help, but I still foresee it being more difficult than trying to shove a wet noodle up a tiger's ass.
Moving along...
The demand for TBA wristbands was astounding and our supply was almost instantly overwhelmed. But worry not, more are being ordered so you can continue to send me messages about how you need/want/deserve/demand one. But you should be aware that the next version of the bracelets will not be as cool as the originals. And Matt is to blame.
Matt objected to the profanity contained in the “Hurry the fuck up” message debossed on the reverse side of the band. I personally do not see what the problem was, but so as not to offend his delicate sensibilities, I shall acquiesce to his faggot-ass grievance and change the fucking wristband text. See, there is a reason why I am so well known for my selfless attitude and eagerness to please everybody. Or maybe I caved so easily because I already have one of the original bracelets and don't give a damn what the new ones say. Direct all of your negative comments to him, as he is actually the one to blame. I mean, shit, the word “ass” is in the team name.
So anyway, because one fucking pillow-biter has a problem, I am left with the unenviable task of choosing an alternative message. No matter what I pick people are going to bitch - "I want the one that says 'fuck' ", "This new slogan is stupid", "Matt really does blow dogs for quarters"...well you see how it's going to go. That's probably the reason he bitched in the first place, so that all our your subsequent bitching would give me a fucking aneurysm.
I'm tempted to use one of the failed official motto entries from a couple months ago, but it needs to be relatively short in order to fit on the wristband. So the options are “Trample the weak” or “Nut up or shut up”. Take your pick. And please just vote for one this time. If I check my email and read "I like them both" again....voting for all options does not help the guy making the fucking decision. I should just have them all made up with “Matt is a fag” printed on the back, just for the inconvenience. (That may be going a bit too far; the “Matt is a fag” t-shirts are probably enough.)
I'm likely going to regret this, but I guess there is always the slim possibility that one of our loyal fans will come up with the winning message. I'm offering a free TBA baseball cap to whoever comes up with something better. But if your idea is shitty don't be surprised if I show up at your house and take something.
Moving right along...
TBA is currently competing in a fitness challenge sponsored by the Grand Rapids area YMCAs. It's a March Madness-style bracket challenge that pits us against other teams. To advance each team must complete a series of specified exercise programs or fitness goals (run 6 miles, complete 8 strength training exercises, ride a bike for 30 minutes, etc). In addition to the exercise program, each team must earn points by completing feel-good tasks like volunteering, reading, helping neighbors, and raising money for the YMCA Strong Kids charity. So far we have raised 80 dollars and have made it into the third round!
You can help too. Donations are tax deductible and donors will receive TBA merchandise!
If you don't help, Matt says he is going to kill a puppy. I think he means business too. Seriously, the last time I saw that look in his eye...well let's just say that when I regained consciousness, I was bare-assed naked in a truck-stop shower stall, scrubbing myself raw with a Brillo-pad and a gallon of laundry detergent. I still haven't been able to get clean. Another reason why Night Train fortified-wine ought to be illegal.
Email us at goteambadass@yahoo.com for more information or with your general, inane uselessness.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
New Bad Ass logo and other fun stuff
Jim here for TBA. I really don't know why I keep writing that, Matt is clearly not writing any of these blog entries. When you see an entry written in crayon, you'll know. He said he'd write some, so I can only guess as to what's holding him up. Even money says it's a combination of horrible dyslexia, a fondness for unnecessary punctuation, and a general fear of letters that likely stems from a childhood hatred of Sesame Street.
What a monster. And not of the Cookie variety. Damn it, I am hilarious.
Training is going well. Very well actually. We've been getting our shit together lately, with the exception of a few missed training sessions due to alcohol. We hit the pool three times last week. During one such session, I swam a whole 700 yards. Matt got in 900. But I looked a lot faster with my obnoxious, yellow goggles.
A few weeks ago we decided to reboot our lifting program to focus on form. It was remarkably difficult to lift the same weight without cheating like we had been doing before. We need to work a bit harder on getting our runs in, but it's really tough to run for an hour when we are completely beat to shit from our P90X class. Regardless, the 25K Riverbank Run and the Rockford Marathon are rapidly approaching.
On to other matters.
I decided on “Trample the weak. Hurdle the dead.” for the team motto. Thanks for all your help, but in the end it was a rather arbitrary decision. Matt's choice was, “Let me win but if I can not win let me be brave in the attempt.”. But I vetoed it because I think the Special Olympics would have sued. I don't care how many “Participant” medals he has, those people are not too fond of copyright infringement.
I spent the better part of the evening designing the new TBA logo. Some of you assholes might point out that there was never an original logo, but fuck the semantics, it's a cool logo. I think it would make a pretty sick tattoo. Team Bad Ass merchandise featuring the new logo is in the works. I'm thinking hats, t-shirts, beer-koozies, and bumper stickers. Any other ideas?
For those that didn't already know, TBA has official wristbands. Unlike those faggot-ass yellow cancer bracelets, our wristbands are black and feature the highly motivational, dare I say inspirational, secondary motto: “HURRY THE FUCK UP”.
Supply is incredibly limited, so only a select few got a HTFU wristband. Although one charlatan managed to sneak one out of Matt and then he “lost” another one. So if you really want one, you could probably give him a sob story, or just follow him around and hope he drops one. If you haven't been paying attention, Matt is about as sharp as a marble.
Anyway, that's all for now.
Jim, Out!
What a monster. And not of the Cookie variety. Damn it, I am hilarious.
Training is going well. Very well actually. We've been getting our shit together lately, with the exception of a few missed training sessions due to alcohol. We hit the pool three times last week. During one such session, I swam a whole 700 yards. Matt got in 900. But I looked a lot faster with my obnoxious, yellow goggles.
A few weeks ago we decided to reboot our lifting program to focus on form. It was remarkably difficult to lift the same weight without cheating like we had been doing before. We need to work a bit harder on getting our runs in, but it's really tough to run for an hour when we are completely beat to shit from our P90X class. Regardless, the 25K Riverbank Run and the Rockford Marathon are rapidly approaching.
On to other matters.
I decided on “Trample the weak. Hurdle the dead.” for the team motto. Thanks for all your help, but in the end it was a rather arbitrary decision. Matt's choice was, “Let me win but if I can not win let me be brave in the attempt.”. But I vetoed it because I think the Special Olympics would have sued. I don't care how many “Participant” medals he has, those people are not too fond of copyright infringement.
I spent the better part of the evening designing the new TBA logo. Some of you assholes might point out that there was never an original logo, but fuck the semantics, it's a cool logo. I think it would make a pretty sick tattoo. Team Bad Ass merchandise featuring the new logo is in the works. I'm thinking hats, t-shirts, beer-koozies, and bumper stickers. Any other ideas?
For those that didn't already know, TBA has official wristbands. Unlike those faggot-ass yellow cancer bracelets, our wristbands are black and feature the highly motivational, dare I say inspirational, secondary motto: “HURRY THE FUCK UP”.
Supply is incredibly limited, so only a select few got a HTFU wristband. Although one charlatan managed to sneak one out of Matt and then he “lost” another one. So if you really want one, you could probably give him a sob story, or just follow him around and hope he drops one. If you haven't been paying attention, Matt is about as sharp as a marble.
Anyway, that's all for now.
Jim, Out!
Friday, January 29, 2010
All sorts of updates…
TBA is still training harder than a choir boy in a porn shop. I cannot be sure if the P90X class is helping with our triathlon training, but it certainly has us working hard and sweating more than a whore in church. Last week, we did “plyometrics” which bears considerable resemblance to the seventh circle of hell from Dante’s Inferno.
The plyometric routine we did was basically a series of squats and jumping exercises. It really got the heart-rate going (I know this because I got to use my fancy heart monitor). Matt forgot his HR monitor in his locker, and then he forgot his locker combination. Sometimes I think that Matt couldn’t even count to twenty-one if he was naked.
By the end of the class, I could have sworn they had turned up the heat in the gym. Seriously, it was hotter than two rats fucking in a wool sock. The class was rougher than I expected; the short recovery time mixed with the increased intensity made it very similar to interval training.
Most other days of the week, we can be found working out (which also includes ogling women and making crude, off-color jokes) either in Rockford or downtown Grand Rapids. “Smart” women are more than welcome to stop by.
We like to alternate between cardio and weight-training. Cardio days are fairly simple – we either run on the track or ride a stationary bike. Lately we’ve been doing “brick” workouts (following up a bike ride with a run). Following an intense bike ride, your legs are basically jelly for the first few hundred yards. The point of the “bricks” is to improve the transition from bike to run.
When we don’t feel like doing shit, like the day after a hardcore weight-training day, we’ll slack off and play racquetball. I have yet to win because I am not at all coordinated, but I am getting better.
We have been trying to get into the pool more often, but it hasn’t been working out. Whenever we try to go to the pool after running or biking, there is always a bullshit class or some school swim team using the lap pool.
Weight training has been the focus of our training thus far, although with our race season rapidly approaching, we’ll be switching to a more cardio-focused routine. Our weight training days are split between chest, legs, and arms/shoulders. We haven’t really done much involving the back muscles until recently.
Our training has not been without its hiccups. Last week, Matt nearly killed me by pulling all of the weights off of one side of the squat barbell when I had only just begun taking the weights off of the other side. Matt’s side of the barbell shot up and the weights on my side fell to the ground with a crash. Without the weights, my side of the barbell leveled off, but in doing so cracked me in the face above the left eye. Sometimes I think that Matt couldn’t pour piss out of a boot if the instructions were written on the heel.
No big deal, I’ve had concussions before and I’m sure I’ll have them again. But I think we’ll stick with the cabled squat bar from now on.
Team Bad Ass is all signed up for the Fifth Third Riverbank run. Matt and I will represent TBA in the 25K and Matt’s sister Sarah will run in the 5K.
That’s all for now. Thanks for all of the emails. Not one stupid comment this time. Way to go!
The plyometric routine we did was basically a series of squats and jumping exercises. It really got the heart-rate going (I know this because I got to use my fancy heart monitor). Matt forgot his HR monitor in his locker, and then he forgot his locker combination. Sometimes I think that Matt couldn’t even count to twenty-one if he was naked.
By the end of the class, I could have sworn they had turned up the heat in the gym. Seriously, it was hotter than two rats fucking in a wool sock. The class was rougher than I expected; the short recovery time mixed with the increased intensity made it very similar to interval training.
Most other days of the week, we can be found working out (which also includes ogling women and making crude, off-color jokes) either in Rockford or downtown Grand Rapids. “Smart” women are more than welcome to stop by.
We like to alternate between cardio and weight-training. Cardio days are fairly simple – we either run on the track or ride a stationary bike. Lately we’ve been doing “brick” workouts (following up a bike ride with a run). Following an intense bike ride, your legs are basically jelly for the first few hundred yards. The point of the “bricks” is to improve the transition from bike to run.
When we don’t feel like doing shit, like the day after a hardcore weight-training day, we’ll slack off and play racquetball. I have yet to win because I am not at all coordinated, but I am getting better.
We have been trying to get into the pool more often, but it hasn’t been working out. Whenever we try to go to the pool after running or biking, there is always a bullshit class or some school swim team using the lap pool.
Weight training has been the focus of our training thus far, although with our race season rapidly approaching, we’ll be switching to a more cardio-focused routine. Our weight training days are split between chest, legs, and arms/shoulders. We haven’t really done much involving the back muscles until recently.
Our training has not been without its hiccups. Last week, Matt nearly killed me by pulling all of the weights off of one side of the squat barbell when I had only just begun taking the weights off of the other side. Matt’s side of the barbell shot up and the weights on my side fell to the ground with a crash. Without the weights, my side of the barbell leveled off, but in doing so cracked me in the face above the left eye. Sometimes I think that Matt couldn’t pour piss out of a boot if the instructions were written on the heel.
No big deal, I’ve had concussions before and I’m sure I’ll have them again. But I think we’ll stick with the cabled squat bar from now on.
Team Bad Ass is all signed up for the Fifth Third Riverbank run. Matt and I will represent TBA in the 25K and Matt’s sister Sarah will run in the 5K.
That’s all for now. Thanks for all of the emails. Not one stupid comment this time. Way to go!
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Update
Jim here. Nothing all that new going on. But maybe I can keep Mary at bay by posting some of the nothingness that I take shit for not posting.
Well, that may be short-selling it. Matt and I started taking a P90X class at the gym twice a week. It is helping us to meet housewives and sweat liquor out of our pores. Other than the class, we are still keeping our usual routine at the gym, although we really need to start hitting the pool more often (primarily so that I can tell Adam to go fuck himself).
I recently got an Ipod for the sole purpose of setting it up with the Nike+ system. Kind of like an speedometer/odometer on your car, it tells you how fast and how far you have run. You install this sensor on your shoe and then like magic (or like physics or something) you have a voice in your ear telling you your pace and your milage. I don't know how it works, it's not a pedometer and I think that gnomes might have been involved in it's creation. Anyone that can explain it to my satisfaction gets a Team Bad Ass prize.
There are a ton of options that I have yet to play around with, but it lets you program a Power Song that will play if you drop below your pace. Mine is currently set to "Through the Fire and the Flames" by DragonForce. Tried it out today with a 45 minute run at the gym, it required virtually no setup and it seems to be very accurate.
Maybe I can retire the old mp3 player. Hey, Matt, you're getting a present! Seriously, the guy still has a Sony Walkman that plays cassette tapes. He runs around with giant earphones listening to a worn out J. Geils Band tape. Makes us look bad.
On another note, other people need to stay the fuck out of the gym. Lately, the gym has been busier than fire-eater with a paper asshole. Every jerkoff with a New Year's resolution has now become an impediment to me fulfilling my goals.
Oh, you want to ride the exercise bike? Too bad, some fatass in poorly-fitting stretchpants is already sitting on it, barely pedaling and reading Redbook.
You want to log some laps on the track? You had best be prepared to swerve in between the Holsteins and Heifers that don't understand that their near-Volkswagon size creates an obstacle akin to a rhinosaurus on the expressway.
And who the fuck takes the elevator and then gets on the step-machine?
I am strongly considering investing in an Old Country Buffet franchise and setting up shop in the parking lot just to alleviate the crowd in the gym. A more cost-effective solution might be a series of signs that read "Free Ham for Fatties" and have an arrow that points away from the gym entrance. Anyway, food for thought (get it?).
Oh, TBA merchandise is in the works. There is talk of a calendar, though I may just repackage an English Sheepdog calendar and tell people it's Matt. The similarities are frightening. Stay tuned for details.
Jim out!
Well, that may be short-selling it. Matt and I started taking a P90X class at the gym twice a week. It is helping us to meet housewives and sweat liquor out of our pores. Other than the class, we are still keeping our usual routine at the gym, although we really need to start hitting the pool more often (primarily so that I can tell Adam to go fuck himself).
I recently got an Ipod for the sole purpose of setting it up with the Nike+ system. Kind of like an speedometer/odometer on your car, it tells you how fast and how far you have run. You install this sensor on your shoe and then like magic (or like physics or something) you have a voice in your ear telling you your pace and your milage. I don't know how it works, it's not a pedometer and I think that gnomes might have been involved in it's creation. Anyone that can explain it to my satisfaction gets a Team Bad Ass prize.
There are a ton of options that I have yet to play around with, but it lets you program a Power Song that will play if you drop below your pace. Mine is currently set to "Through the Fire and the Flames" by DragonForce. Tried it out today with a 45 minute run at the gym, it required virtually no setup and it seems to be very accurate.
Maybe I can retire the old mp3 player. Hey, Matt, you're getting a present! Seriously, the guy still has a Sony Walkman that plays cassette tapes. He runs around with giant earphones listening to a worn out J. Geils Band tape. Makes us look bad.
On another note, other people need to stay the fuck out of the gym. Lately, the gym has been busier than fire-eater with a paper asshole. Every jerkoff with a New Year's resolution has now become an impediment to me fulfilling my goals.
Oh, you want to ride the exercise bike? Too bad, some fatass in poorly-fitting stretchpants is already sitting on it, barely pedaling and reading Redbook.
You want to log some laps on the track? You had best be prepared to swerve in between the Holsteins and Heifers that don't understand that their near-Volkswagon size creates an obstacle akin to a rhinosaurus on the expressway.
And who the fuck takes the elevator and then gets on the step-machine?
I am strongly considering investing in an Old Country Buffet franchise and setting up shop in the parking lot just to alleviate the crowd in the gym. A more cost-effective solution might be a series of signs that read "Free Ham for Fatties" and have an arrow that points away from the gym entrance. Anyway, food for thought (get it?).
Oh, TBA merchandise is in the works. There is talk of a calendar, though I may just repackage an English Sheepdog calendar and tell people it's Matt. The similarities are frightening. Stay tuned for details.
Jim out!
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Team Bad Ass needs your help
In an attempt to enhance our already badass image, TBA is looking into making t-shirts and hats. That way, even those that do not follow our blog can know how awesome we are. The only problem is that we cannot agree on a motto. Below are the options, let us know what you think.
1. “Trample the weak. Hurdle the dead.”
2. “That which does not kill you, makes you stronger.”
3. “Pain is weakness leaving the body”
4. “No retreat, no surrender.”
5. “Nut up or shut up.”
6. “We are the people our parents warned us about.”
I’d say that we welcome your submissions, but after seeing some of the inane and downright retarded comments that get posted, that really isn’t the case.
1. “Trample the weak. Hurdle the dead.”
2. “That which does not kill you, makes you stronger.”
3. “Pain is weakness leaving the body”
4. “No retreat, no surrender.”
5. “Nut up or shut up.”
6. “We are the people our parents warned us about.”
I’d say that we welcome your submissions, but after seeing some of the inane and downright retarded comments that get posted, that really isn’t the case.
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