Father of the Year goes for a run

I should have known yesterday when the lady from the adoption agency never shown for the afternoon appointment I set up that it was a sign of things to come. The one time out of the seven my son has been taken to kindergarten in his short career by his loving dad, he does not get a sticker put in his school work book. The teacher instead wrote this note in the school book, " Jake was not his normal self today. Did he get enough sleep last night? Or, was his father left in charge of him? Jake's mother if your reading this, please find Jake a suitable father. Jake is always on his best behavior when you drop him off in the morning". So much for winning father of the year.

On a brighter note, I did manage to get a run in last night. I think the running gods were punishing me for being such a bad parental unit. Or, maybe it was the heating gods, or maybe it was Lucifer himself. As my football coach from high school used to say, "It was hotter than a fox farting in a forest fire" out there last night. Peace Out!!!

6.13 miles 10 min./mile pace 1075 calories



mile1: 9:35

mile2: 10.26

mile3: 10:22

mile4: 10:38

mile5: 10:56

mile6: 8:28

Take My Advice!!! Wear Condoms!!!

This morning I had the ultimate pleasure of getting my "Evil Seeds" ready for, and taking them to their places of learning. I rarely have this honor (read:punishment), and every time I am lucky enough to be called off the bench and into the game I am reminded why I attempt to leave the house as early as possible in the morning. Seriously, I would rather take an ass beating from an outlaw biker gang than deal with my two daddy hating children. I don't know how my wife does it every day. If she was to ever leave for any reason I would So be on the phone to an adoption agency. In fact, I already have an appointment with an agency this afternoon. I have to blame myself for being in this mess in the first place. You know being so irresistible, sexy, god's gift to the female race, and having sperm that swims like Michael Phelps. Oh well, the damage is done. Here is a brief re-play of this mornings events.

Setting: The Bennett residence
List of Characters: Jason (Great over-achieving dad)
Jake (Evil 5 year old junk food eater with runny nose)
Bryce (Evil 3 year old lying princess with wet diaper)

Time: 6:00 A.M.

Jason: Jake what do you want do bring for show and share day?
Jake: Something we don't have.
Jason: No buddy it has to be something we already own.
Jake: How about these three jets (red, blue, and silver)
Jason: You can only bring one.
Jake: O.K. I would like to bring the yellow one.
Jason: None of the jets are yellow.
Jake: When will mom be back? I hate you!!!
Jason:Bryce did you pee in your diaper last night?
Bryce: No.
Jason: Then what is that smell?
Bryce: Well maybe I peed a little bit, but it was an accident. I miss my mommy and daddy is not my friend anymore!!!
Jason: What would you two like for breakfast?
Jake and Bryce: When will mommy be back!!!
Jason: Spends next two hours asking questions and attempts to get the children ready.
Jake and Bryce: Spend the next two hours wishing for safe return of mommy and sudden death of mean question asking father.

Time 9:10 A.M. Morning fiasco is over. Jason also hopes for safe and speedy return of the mommy, preferably before this afternoons school pickup.

Not much to report on running front. Hope to hit the pavement tonight. Peace Out!!!

In The Spirit of the O"LIMP"ICS !!!

On Saturday night I watched the Olympic marathon for some inspiration for my scheduled long run in the morning. Before falling into a deep state of sleep I tried to imagine myself as an Olympic athlete. I thought to myself---Jason tomorrow you will make your country proud, no not by going to war against another country. That tradition seems to have grown boring and controversial to most Americans. You will make your country proud by competing against the best athletes the world has to offer and defeating each and every one of them. While you don't posses a chiseled body, the speed and stamina of a cheetah, or have any chance of ever seeing your face on the side of a cereal box you are the only hope America has at a medal. Well self---thanks for showing so much confidence in me. I'm up for the challenge. Now let me get some sleep, I'm sure all the imaginary athletes have been asleep for hours.

Sunday morning finally arrives and I wake up for my event, "The Run As Far As You Can Until You Run Out Of Things To Drink That You Are Carrying On Your Person Athon", the lengthiness of the title is an event within itself. It's 4:00 A.M. and strangely enough the rest of the Olympic village is still fast asleep. I head to the village's cafeteria for my pre-race meal of two granola bars and a glass of water. I then head to the lounge to digest my meal, put on all my gear, and meditate (read: fall back asleep). I wake up ten minutes before my event starts, do some light stretching, and head to the starting line. On my way to the starting line I hear a little voice calling to me. Could it be some last minute encouragement from friends and family? No, it's my five year old son demanding I turn the television to cartoons before I leave on my quest for gold.

I finally arrive at the starting line. Through the darkness I try to look over my competition. A loud bang rings through the air. The race for gold has begun. I take off at a blistering pace (11:00 Minute/Mile) and just like every other run I go on I find myself alone. Maybe I went out to fast for the other competitors, or maybe they are hanging back waiting for me to fade in the final few miles. My competition seems to know me all to well. The miles appear to be flying by. At mile five I see the first few spectators as the sun starts to shed light on the course. It looks like a prostitute that had just got off the clock, her pimp, and a homeless man with only one shoe sleeping on a park bench. I get the feeling that these fans could give a shit less if I win the gold. Or could it be that they are all secretly cheering for the Kenyan to win? At mile eight I get my first shout out, literally, from a surely soon to be sober gentlemen that zipped by in a car and yelled "You The Man". This gives me the the boost I need to keep me ahead of the pack.

Around mile eleven I start to hear foot steps behind me. Could it be that the pack has caught me? No, it's a lone runner (read:old lady pushing 60) she seems to be gaining on me with each stride. I try to speed up but this experienced runner (Old Hag) has brought her "A" game today. I have no choice but to fall behind her and pray that she trips and breaks her hip. Seriously, you old bitch, why are you shitting on my dream of Olympic gold? Good news the Geritol must have have wore off, grandma has stopped running and I have once again taken the lead.

I am now closing in on mile thirteen and realize my hydration sources are all but gone. I vow to reach mile fourteen and claim my gold prize. Besides I've had to pee for the last eight miles. At mile fourteen I cross the finish line and limp my way to the rest room. I refill my water bottles and decide to take a 4 mile victory stroll. Along my victory limp I noticed one of the other events is underway this morning. It's the "The Tandem Heavy Set Beach Run, Jog, Walk, or Crawl in Outfits That Do Not Fit Well Athon". To see these large athletes, and being one myself, working together as a team doing physical activity, that does not involve eating, gave me a real sense of pride. These dynamic duo's in my mind are the real winners this morning and I will be sharing my imaginary gold with each and every one of them. Peace Out.

18.15miles Run 14miles Walk 4.15miles 3019 calories

A Run Down Memory Lane

Along my 6 mile trek last night my mind began to wonder back to the time when my interest in running was sparked. It was some time in late 2006 at a family function hosted by my brother and sister in law. It was jokingly, at least I thought, brought up that we should sign up for the Walt Disney Half Marathon in January 2007. Sure why not, I used to be a pretty decent runner how hard could a half marathon be? I mean that's not that far. I could run that distance in my sleep. Sign me Up!!! The willing participants ended up being my sister, brother, sister in law, lovely wife, and myself.

Let the training begin, yeah right, can you say procrastination? Two weeks before the event I went to the mall and bought a pair of running shoes, or at least at the time what I thought were running shoes. I purchased said shoes based on appearance. I thought to myself, boy I'll really tear up the course wearing these babies. When in all reality they just added more weight to my already fatally obese ass. At this point of my life I was at the highest weight of my life, a mere 280 pounds give or take. I had been playing seven aside soccer for a couple of years, but those games were once a week and only lasted 50 minutes. I think I ran a total of 5 times during the two week span leading up to the half marathon. The last run I did was on the Monday before the half, and I wisely (NOT!!!) decided it would be a good idea to at least run, jog, walk, or crawl 10 miles before attempting the 13 miler on Saturday. I spent the rest of the week hobbling around trying to act like I was ready for the horror that awaited me on Saturday.

Race day I met all my relatives that were running at the start area at 4:00 A.M. My lovely and very wise wife decided against the whole waking up at 4 in the morning and running 13 miles in a circle for no apparent reason. While waiting with the masses of actual runners, approximately 16,000 of them, I began to get caught up in the moment. Not only will I finish this race I will leave all my relatives in the dust. When the race began I sped off like I was shot from a cannon. I was passing people like they were standing still. Move out of the way fellow runners I going to win this freaking race!!! I often hear about people running full marathons hitting the wall somewhere around mile 20. My wall came at an embarrassing mile 4. After mile 4 there would be no more running. I would not win the half as thought just mere minutes ago, especially since I saw the leader of the half heading back towards the finish at my mile 2, which was his mile 11. I now had settled on the fact that I just needed to try to finish.

Nine miles is a long way to walk and it also gives you time to observe things along the way. Like how most of the other runners had some type of plan of attack for the race they were running. And that an eighty year old women, a man on a crutch, several fellow fatally obese people, and a 12 year old kid all have way more stamina then I do. And that most people seem to be dressed more for the occasion of running than I am. By that I mean actual running shoes, (if I had a dollar for every asics I saw), shorts, socks, shirts and other running paraphernalia. The last thing I noticed during my agonizing stroll, at about mile 10, was that my right tit was bleeding. Who knew a cotton shirt filled with sweat rubbing on my nipples for miles would cause them to bleed?At least I gave all the spectators along the side of the road and through Epcot something to laugh about. I only saw one mother shield her kids eyes from the sight of the steady stream of blood running down my white (Why couldn't I have worn a dark one) T-shirt. I'm sure if you Google: cotton-blood- nipples-running-agony-idiot, a picture of me will show up.

I finished dammit, and that's all that mattered to me, at the time. I did my three mile walk of shame with my nips a bleeding and to add insult to injury was passed by my own sister in the last tenth of mile. My time, a blazing 3 hours and 16 minutes. I vowed I would never do this again right after finishing, however after recovering for a week I decided that I could do better and signed up for the Sarasota Half. That's a story for another time. Peace Out.


6.2 miles 10:22 pace 1082calories

mile1: 10:21
mile2: 10:15
mile3: 9:55
mile4: 10:36
mile5: 10:42
mile6: 10:23

Fay Blows!!! I Blow Back???

Fay tried her darnedest to thwart my 4 miler this morning. I really do not have the body designed for running in the first place, you know slender, tone, and statuesque like. Mine is more like wide, flabby, and baroque like. And if there is one thing my body is not well equipped for given my over all massiveness, it's wind. Even though the winds from Fay were minimal this morning parts of my run felt like I was on a treadmill. But, being a strong and powerful runner I cut the wind like a hot knife going through butter, or maybe it was more like a not so sharp and large object cutting a cinder block. Either way, you can see by looking at the numbers below I'm a force to be reckoned with in the running community. Peace Out!!!



4 miles 34 minutes 8:30 pace 685 calories

mile 1: 8:49

mile 2: 8:18

mile 3: 8:33

mile 4: 8:34

Fay Fay Go Away --- You Beoch!!!

Well it took a while but we are having our first real threat of a tropical storm/hurricane in the likes of the crotchety old Fay. I mean Fay? Is that really the best name we could come up with at the national weather center, or wherever these types of names are dreamt up? Of course living here in southwest Florida I'm sure there is at least one blue hair named Fay in every trailer park from Tampa to Naples. I bet if you ask any of them there is nothing in this world that would make them more proud than having a storm with their namesake buzzing by the old trailer park and turning it into a wasteland.

The worst part of this time of the year, being in the site work business, is all the time that is lost. There is lost time before the storm to prepare for the storm. Then you have the actual time lost while the storm makes its way through the area. Finally, the time lost to either fix all of the things the storm damaged, or to just undo all the preparation you did days before the storm. All this time adds up, usually to be at least one week of time that can neither be made up or paid for. The way the economy is right now there is absolutely no way with the competitive bid arena we are in that anyone has been figuring for time lost due to hurricanes. Oh well no need to cry over spilled milk. There I go again with the dairy talk, maybe I should have left the original blog name alone.

On the running front, I managed a 10 mile run to siesta key on Sunday. I stopped at good old 7-11 and purchased a coffee and a couple of bottled waters and decided to take a 4 mile stroll down the public beach. I noticed how still the water in the gulf seemed to be, a "calm before the storm" if you will. The beach was crowded as usual, mostly with people that should not be let outside with the beach attire they had chosen. Hey what I can I say, not everybody can be drop dead sexy like yours truly. On a related note I did see one potential trophy wife along my stroll, however she was playing hard to get by not even noticing me. Oh yeah, she wants me she just doesn't know it yet. Peace Out.

10 miles 1hr 45min 10:30 pace 1522 calories

A Boy's First Milestone

JAKE THEODORE BENNETT:

So you still sleep with a stuffed teddy bear and a pillow that resembles a tootsie roll. So you only will eat hot dogs, chocolate mini-muffins, pbj sandwiches, and any form of junk food snacks. So you occasionally like to wear a ballerina dress and add roller skates to really set off the outfit. So what if you happen to be a little tired you're more comfortable with a thumb in your mouth.

None of this stuff matters to me. You are my first and only son and every day you grow bigger and more like a little man. I am so proud to be your dad and I wish you good luck in all the adventures you are about to experience at school. Hope you have fun at school your first day. Peace Out!!!