Portland Scavenger Hunt

I recently got invited to a legendary scavenger hunt in Portland. Teams of four seek for fame by capturing the most points through copious drinking, raucous behavior, and insightful clue solving. The day was not only monumental, but proved to be a great lesson in how to organize an event that can entertain guests for an entire day and night.

The scavenger hunt started off with a short relay race which ended with someone from each team bobbing for beer cans in a kiddie pool. The bottom of each beer can had a type of alcohol written on the bottom of it. When you pull out a beer can, you read the bottom, and that's the alcohol that you're drinking the rest of the day. I was praying that we wouldn't pull out a peppermint schnapps or something awful like that. We ended up getting vodka.


Bobbing for Beers in a Kiddie Pool

The hunt was focused on finding 10 bars from a list of clues that were given out at the start. At each bar your team would order a round of their designated alcohol (from the bobbed beer can). One point was given for each team member that had a drink. Also, at each of the bars there was a list of things you could do there for bonus points. For example, at a bar called Jakes you could get 2 points for getting a stranger to thumb wrestle, 5 points for an arm wrestle, and 10 points for actually wrestling with a stranger. I lost an arm wrestling match to some 50-year old biker dude.

There was also a section for earning bonus points regardless of the location you were at. Points could be earned for asking inappropriate questions to strangers (e.g. where do you like to be touched), giving piggy back rides to strangers, kissing members of other teams, pulling weeds at a strangers house, and more. The entire scavenger hunt lasted six hours, at which point everyone met back together at a karaoke bar to have their scores tallied and to continue the party.

Our team scored somewhere in the middle, which is what we expected given that there were a few veteran teams that had the hunt down to a science. We definitely all had a great time. It was the kind of day that will generate stories among friends for years to come.

Review: Gilroy Garlic Festival

I went to the Gilroy Garlic Festival a few days ago, ready and excited to enjoy the art, and especially the food. I really feel like a total grouch and snob saying this, but the food was total SHIT!! The ambiance…not so impressive either.

Problem #1: no competition for food selection
What I mean is that there was only one place for guacamole, one place for stuffed mushrooms, one place for garlic ice cream, one place for egg rolls, one place for EVERYTHING at the festival. The bottom line is this: If I was able to compete against the Gilroy Boy Scouts for stuffed mushrooms at the festival, then there would be a 15 minute line in front of my stand, and a 0 minute line at theirs. Unfortunately, the stuffed mushroom stand has a lockdown on mushrooms, which means they can sell raw and crunchy mushrooms filled with 90% parmesan, 9% ricotta, and 1% parsley like it was Teddy Ruxpin in 1985. And yes, I figured out your recipe in six bites. And no, this stuffed mushroom won’t chew your ear off while telling you sweet bedtime stories from a cassette tape…

Problem #2: Overhyped media attention
I live in California and do consulting work in the energy industry. So I work with a lot of Texans. All the way out in Texas I have co-worker that saw some show on TV that highlighted the Gilroy Garlic Festival. This Texan had actually considered taking his wife on a vacation to California to experience the garlic festival. Yeah…BIG MISTAKE. Good thing he only THOUGHT of the vacation. My best guess for why a TV program would highlight the garlic festival… Why not? I mean, you have to show something on your network every day. And why not waste some hour talking about a garlic festival in California and over-hyping it so that your TV show sounds like they know of all the awesome food capitals of the world? Sounds like a good plan to me. Another good plan would be to remain skeptical of things that sound too good to be true. I don’t mean to be a downer, so please imagine delicious lasagna for a second and smile…

Problem #3: Arts and crafts lacking
I have to admit that I may have had unrealistic expectations about the arts and crafts. If by unrealistic expectations you mean that everything didn’t look like grandma made it, then yes I did. I really love my grandma, so don’t get me wrong. I prominently display the wine glasses that she made me in my living room. And I hold onto the memories of growing up in her presence very dearly. But at the same time, I don’t want to wear her cooking apron, and I don’t want her embossed toad basketball player figurine (yes, she has one). ‘Nuff said.

Problem #4: Creepy dude on the way out…
This might be the most minimal flaw of the festival. But at the same time this flourish was cinema-like in its ability to cement an experience into my conscience. As I walked up the final hill on the way out there was this fat, sweaty dude with a two-wheeled ice cream cart making grunt noises and rhythmically shaking his bell-laden cart every ten seconds. It was as if he was the candy stand which entices children at the end of a shopping experience (or sometimes entices me). It would have been the perfect lure for people after being exhausted from hanging out for hours at a festival in 100 degree heat and climbing a steep hill for five minutes. Except that it wasn’t. Because he was fu#@in’ creepy. I feel bad for creepy dudes. He was probably a really sweet guy. Sorry bro.

People That Beat You

Today I ran the San Francisco Half Marathon. Also running was my brother and a couple friends. It was awesome weather for running, and I feel pretty good about my finishing time. But we'll get to that in a minute. After finishing, I walked to a position about 200 yards from the finish line and waited for my brother. To pass the time, I decided to start a collage of people that finished before him. I do want to say that my brother is a total stud for finishing. He's not a runner. He's 6'2" and 240 pounds. His sport is karate (he's a 3rd degree black belt), and I guess since I'm his younger brother and he used to like to beat me up a lot, my sport is running. Running from an ass whooping...

I should also mention that the people below are also studs too. Hell, they are 200 yards from completing a half marathon. But hey, they beat my 33-year old brother. So I'm going to make fun of him for it.
























































I finished with a time of 1:37:42, which breaks down to a 7:28 average mile pace. Of course I'd like to be faster, but this will do for now. My goal is to break 1:25:00. My brother came in at 2:45:58. Congrats to everyone that finished!

Rain or Shine, Bitches!!

I'm working on a project based in Houston, which means I'm often flying back and forth between California and Texas. For the last three months though I have been fortunate enough to travel to New York every week. NY is a hell of a lot more exciting than Houston. In terms of beauty, Houston doesn't have much going for it. It's a huge sprawl, it's got crappy weather, and there are no mountains, lakes, or really anything of scenic allure. But what Houston has going for it are my friends. And especially my workout crew. Over the last few months we've managed to consistently pull together a group for interval training.

The group dynamic is always so fun when it comes to intervals. There are always a couple guys really pushing to round up a group, then there are the guys that show up for a good workout if a big enough group emerges, and then there are the guys that are peer pressured by everyone else to get their ass to the track! This last set of guys genuinely want to get a good workout, but you first have to refute every argument they come up with for not being able to make it. Once that is out of the way they come out and have a great time.

This evening we somehow rounded up seven guys to head to the track while a storm was hitting. I'm talking streets flooding and lightning. We lost one of the guys due to the "it's raining" excuse. We tried to get him to come around with the argument, "When it isn't raining outside it's 90 degrees with 90% humidity. So you're soaking wet after 10 minutes anyway."

Alas, the argument did not win him over. Oh well...guess who's getting shit from everyone tomorrow? That dude. :)

Mark: 1 vs. Children: 1

There are a number of success factors that I consider when determining if I am happy with my race performance. One of them being the question "Did any children beat me?"

I don't know what children do these days, but I'm pretty sure they shouldn't be crossing the finish line before me. A few months ago I ran in a 10k with 2800 other male runners. During the run I was a bit surprised when at mile 3 I encountered a child in front of me. I passed him. And then after feeling pretty proud of myself I passed another child at mile 4. As I wondered if the kid was just one of those guys that grew a beard at age 11, he coughed. A very high-pitched cough. Like his voice hadn't changed yet...you know...like what happens when you hit puberty.

After the race, a quick search of the results revealed that I got schooled by three children. Two 13-year olds and a 12-year old. The fastest of them beat me by 1 minute 14 seconds. The score at that point in time was Mark: 0 vs. Children: 1.

This last weekend I ran in my first 10k since getting beat by children. And I stand triumphant before you this day as I declare that I kicked their asses. All of them. Mark: 1 vs. Children: 1. Next race I'm pulling ahead. Watch and learn, children.

5k's and Lots of Scathes

I have two things to report. I ran a 5k. And I have bruises all over my body.

I ran a 20:30 in the 5k (6:36 mile pace). It was a small race with 142 people, and I managed to get 5th place with this time. The whole fifth place thing makes me feel good. But the fact that I was able to run a 5k just as fast six months ago makes me feel bad. In the end, I think it averages out a little on the feeling bad side. I've been running, but apparently not enough to get faster. Boo.

And then the bruises... Those make me feel good. I don't watch football, I don't drive a truck, and I don't have cravings for steak and potatoes. Something has to connect me to my fellow man species, right? So why not bruises all over my body to show how tough I am? If you got 'em, flaunt 'em. That's what I say. So last weekend I took my shirt off and hung out at the hotel pool to show everyone what's up. I know what you're thinking. But I earned them fair and square so shut up.

Anyway, I quickly realized that perhaps people thought I was diseased. The circular wounds did look a bit like ring worm. Holy crap?! People think I have ring worm? I put my shirt back on.

The bruises were caused by a fun filled day of playing paintball. Hence, the circular shape. Me and fourteen other guys had bruises everywhere. One guy went running shirtless on a treadmill afterward. The lady next to him at the gym did a double take at his ring worm looking torso and moved machines. Perhaps paintball wounds are contagious. You can never be too cautious.

This week I'm kicking my running up a notch to 20+ miles per week. I've realized it's due time for me to get more aggressive about reaching my goals. I don't think 20 miles/week is a ton, but at least progress.

Lake Tahoe Relay 2010

The Lake Tahoe Relay is a 7 person, 72 mile relay around Lake Tahoe. This year 150 teams signed up, many of them running clubs from around Northern California. Each team drives around the lake during the event, cheering on their runner and making sure that the next runner is waiting for the hand-off at each transition area. My team was organized by employees of the National Children's Study, and I was kindly offered a spot on their team.

One of the memorable teams was "Man Beef," noted for their blue sleeveless shirts that had their team name written on the back. Another was "Hells Bells," which handed off a tutu and a long pink boa to the next runner. I couldn't help loving Hells Bells. They all had cute outfits with little devil horns and long striped socks. Man Beef though was a different story.

From the look of Man Beef, I honestly couldn't tell if they were referring to their special appendage, or if it was a reference to their extra preparation for the long, cold winter. Regardless, I smelt weakness. And I was determined to take them down. And by "take them down" I mean that they would get last place, and we would get second to last place...

After 12 hours of cheering on each runner in our team, hunger and exhaustion must have diverted us from the any sort of competitive nature. For the last hour I was pretty much dreaming of pizza. And dreaming of all the good pizzas I've ever eaten. I guess that dried apricots and peanut clusters don't tide you over for another 6 hours after you run twelve miles. Lesson learned. Anyhow, as we were celebrating our last runner coming in (and celebrating the realization that we would soon be saved from our peanut clusters), in comes Man Beef. Ohhhh snap!! Man Beef just got schooled by the National Children's Study!

I must say that our team did well, regardless of the place we got. We averaged under an 11-minute mile over the entire course, with almost each leg of the course containing climbs of 300-800 feet. For myself, I ran the 4th leg and tracked my run on my GPS device that also auto-tweets my pace and time every mile. I felt fortunate to run a leg where I recognized many of the sites. My girlfriend's aunt/uncle used to own a cabin in this area. So it was a run down memory lane. I passed the yogurt shop, the hidden entrance to the beach, an awesome restaurant called Garwoods where I spent my first $50+ dinner with my girlfriend (soon after college), and finally past the street that takes you to the cabin. Here are my mile splits:

• Mile 1 - 7:02
• Mile 2 - 7:23
• Mile 3 - 7:14
• Mile 4 - 7:14
• Mile 5 - 8:39
• Mile 6 - 7:22
• Mile 7 - 7:13
• Mile 8 - 7:54
• Mile 9 - 7:42
• Mile 10 - 8:07
• Mile 11 - 8:17
• Mile 12 - 7:54
  

For those that followed my run on twitter, you may notice that these times may be +/- a few seconds off the posted tweets. This is because the tweets showed my current pace (averaged over the previous 400 yards) at the time the tweet was sent, while the posted times here are my pace as averaged over the previous mile. Each would show the same result of an average pace of 7:40 over the course of the run.

Ok, now for the fun stuff.

Our friend Renee had one of the two toughest legs. She had a continuous 800 foot climb for the last 3 miles of her run. As she was ascending, some guy pulled up next to her, started chatting with her about how he recently had surgery on a collapsed lung, and then proceeded to pull up his shirt and show her a scar going from his abdomen to his back. Right after explaining this to her, he put it into high gear and ditched her up the hill. She pretty much wanted to wring his neck. "Yeah, I'm dying up this hill and some guy with a collapsed lung passes me at like 50 miles per hour," she would later explain. I'm just wondering...how many people did this guy show his scar to?

I think next year I'm going to put on some of those plastic chicken feet that you can buy for Halloween. And when I pass people I'll say, "Damn, I just had my feet removed to get these new chicken feet." And then I'll ditch their ass. Weird? Yes. As weird as the collapsed lung guy? Hell yeah.

Other highlights...well, Amy got passed by a 70-year old, who I must say was on a team with a bunch of very old, and very awesome runners. But it never feels good to get passed by grandpa. Man Beef, however, got passed by yours truly (that's me). And for the finale, we saw a bear while picking up pizza.



While this bear is half the size of the dumpster, he is only an adolescent. The dumpsters in Tahoe are all bear proof, so the fact that this bear is actually trying to get inside shows that he's a rookie. He was so cute I just wanted to go over and scratch behind his ears. Something tells me he's not as friendly as my old Teddy Ruxpin though.

I'll end with a couple beautiful pictures from our weekend.


View from the back yard of the cabin we rented.



Emerald Bay. View from leg 7.