From this unreadable article:
The critic and erstwhile blogger Lee Siegel, in Against the Machine, a polemic against online habits, makes a list of “five open supersecrets” about bloggers:
1. Not everyone has something valuable to say.
2. Few people have anything original to say.
3. Only a handful of people know how to write well.
4. Most people will do almost anything to be liked.
5. “Customers” are always right, but “people” aren’t.
And the rest of us just copy/paste.
One of the tricky things about long distance running is digestive system management. After a few miles, the constant frolicking of the viscerals, combined with constant nutrition intake, can easily bring on “the runners trots,” and you really don’t want to get caught in this situation with no acceptable loo nearby.
In the past, “acceptable loo” has taken on multiple realities. If you’re out in cow pasture, a bush will work. I’ve snuck into construction zones to use porto-johns intended only for construction workers (and they usually do have toilet paper)! Service stations have amazingly always been quite friendly about letting sweaty, stinky runners use their toilets in exchange for nothing. In a pickle, I’ve even used a generally hidden ditch along the side of a busy canal. (Of course, I practice good camping etiquette in this case and dig a cat hole first.)
Perhaps the real problem is that all these impeccable miles of canal road that Phoenix offers is so lacking in outhouses in the first place. Runners flock to these roads, and are highly reliant on the 1 informal toilet per 3 miles. Even parks along the route often do not have any comfort stations for exercisers.
Today, my running partner Kim and I were both in a bad way. The Paseo Canal in South Chandler has nicely new paved canal roads, and only 1 official stop — a mile off the trail — in the 5 miles we were traversing out-and-back. By mile 7, we were both squirming. The only solution at hand was to perhaps check out the nearby Chandler Municipal Airport for their bathrooms. Kim is a pilot who frequents Chandler airport, so she had an idea of where we could go – but still, the airport was probably .75 miles away.
Finally, I saw a gap in the fence along the canal, and on the other side, a mechanic was standing outside his shop in the parking lot. And yes! He knew where a bathroom was – right there in the shop! It turned out they were machining airplane engines in the shop, and he offered to give us a tour some time. And sure, we could use his toilet any time we needed! We felt fortunate to both meet such an interesting specialist AND to find a bathroom! A mini-adventure!
Disaster diverted.
Calories burned: 1000
We show up at 5:30am in tacky bright spandex tights and jerseys.
The plan: ride around in circles on a road that requires “Watch out for cyclists!” signs. “Give cyclists <– 3ft –>” These signs are important because a cyclist has been killed on this road before, and the killer was merely given a traffic ticket. You can still see the grooves in the pavement of the catastrophic moment in the shoulder. The grooves are filled with white chalk so us cyclists don’t get our tires stuck in them.
So we ride in circles, in our Dorothy tap shoes, delicately balanced on our expensive bikes.
I ride on tired legs that I used up on my hopping exercise last night. I am approaching 20 miles completed, when I see Lisa, Kim, Melvin and Kerri on the other side of the road in bright red, blue, cornflower blue and orange. “HEY, GUYS!” I quickly cross the road to catch up with them and do another loop.
Calories burned: 500
Six pieces of Oscar Meyer center-cut bacon do not yield much grease. The thin remaining veneer of lipids is just enough to cook and flavor two eggs without the eggs sticking to and burning on the griddle. The mountain of meat and egg fuel a ritual moment of thought and reflection.
In the name of Pork.
The salty bacon is pleasing, and I recall pleasing experiences from yesterday. The way the Barnhardt trail, which we ran across so serendipitously, curled along the mountain wall – into side canyons, all the while gently climbing. The peaks in the area were grandiose enough to remind me slightly of the Andes.
We were not sure if the mythical waterfall on the map would be flowing, and I was about ready to turn around. I was getting worried about all the underbrush I was swishing through with bare legs and arms . He insisted walking just ten minutes more and picked up the pace. And within five minutes, we saw it – a secretive trickle dribbling down the rocky wall of a slot canyon into a black rocky puddle. It felt like it could be the portal to Gollum’s world, and I was quietly very satisfied to be there.
Bacon: Calories 180. Eggs: Calories 140.
Disgusted with the waste created by large bottles of shampoo, I sought out a low-package, natural solution. A friend pointed me to Lush’s website. I nearly immediately went on an unfettered shopping spree, and I purchased the following products through the online store:
Squeaky Green SKU: 02736 1 $7.95 $7.95 The Blonde SKU: 00614 1 $14.95 $14.95 Shampoo Bar Tin SKU: 10991 1 $0.00 $0.00 Godiva SKU: 02392 1 $9.25 $9.25 Jungle SKU: 00220 1 $9.95 $9.95 Coalface SKU: 00233 1 $10.95 $10.95 Quinquereme Of Nineveh SKU: 00817 1 $6.95 $6.95 Porridge SKU: 02795 1 $5.95 $5.95
The Blonde Shampoo (link)
By far my favorite product I’ve tried, this yellow block of shampoo soap is topped with herbs. My first reaction was confusion as to how I was supposed to transform a herby block of soap into a manageable substance for my hair. The solution quickly presented itself. I left the herbs on top alone. By scrubbing the bottom of the bar into my palm, I quickly worked up a lather that I wipe off into my hair. It takes a few rounds of palm scrubbing to get enough lather to soap up my hair adequately. It leaves my hair feeling clean, and I have little fear of chemical residues being left in my hair.
This soap reportedly is supposed to lighten your hair as you use it. The verdict is still out on that one. But the effectiveness / simplicity ratio of the soap is reason enough to ditch the big plastic bottles of water & chemicals for your hair. Even at $15/bar, the bar seems to have enough longetivy to rival a costco sized bottle.
Porridge Body Bar (link)
If you ever had the desire to bathe in milk and oats, this is your big chance. This small white bar has a rough, lumpy consistency, smells sweetly of milky desserts, and looks nothing like the picture on the website. When scrubbing, it will not work up a lather at all; rather, it just dissolves into milk. In the end, I just scrubbed my skin with the bar, hoping the hard oat bits in the soap would somehow clean my skin. After 2 weeks of washing, the bar was reduced to a sliver. While I enjoyed the smell of the soap, I am not sure I need to be cleansing with my breakfast food.
Quinquereme of Ninevah Body Bar (link)
If that bathing with food idea disturbed you at all, this soap is even worse. It smells absolutely delicious — some sort of malt-chocolate delight. Again it looks nothing like the photo on the website, and if it is supposed to be vanilla-based, you would never guess it. It has what looks like little flax seed pods / pebbles? in it, again creating friction. The softer malt substance melts in the shower. This bar has a short life span as well.
I am not thinking too highly of the body bars yet.
Coalface cleanser (link)
With a smell reminiscent of train tracks on a rainy day, this rough black coal and liquorice facial cleanser works as a very effective exfoliator and leaves my skin feeling fresh. It is easy enough to work up a light lather, even with the tiny bits of coal. The bar seems to have good longevity as well. After a week of use though, I found I needed to return to a normal cleanser and lay off the exfoliation for a while. A bit too rough on the skin. But most beauty gals will know that already.
The other Lush items are waiting their turn. I will post updates as I try the next round of products.
