My friend Katie sent me this tonight:— Katie Schelle (@kms243)
Yes, I definitely do. That’s because on the afternoon of Aug. 26, 2011, I was starting to hear from family members and friends that they wouldn’t be coming to my wedding.
@YourManDevine You just HAD to hire The Scorpions as your wedding band didn’t you?— HippoEki (@HippoEki)
There was only so much we could do when it became clear that Hurricane Irene was a really, really big deal, and that it would be sweeping up the East Coast and into the New York/New Jersey area on the 27th — which was, of course, the day toward which we’d worked and planned for the better part of the previous year. Everything was booked, the contracts set, the non-refundable deposits shelled out. Our immediate families had already started making their way to N.Y. for the rehearsal dinner. The venue was going to stay open barring an evacuation call by local authorities; the officiant and caterers were still in, too.
We knew for sure that our wedding was going to happen, but we also knew that it was going to be a very different day than the one we’d planned. The only question, then, was how many of the 150 or so* RSVP-ed guests would actually wind up making it**.
I’m thinking about resurrecting this abandoned tumblog in order to serve as a medium for more writing. This may seem completely unrelated to Dan’s beautiful post, but it’s not; his Irenniversary piece yesterday was one of a few that I’ve read as of late that are giving me the itch to write more. So thanks, Dan, for that. And thanks to you too, Ramzy. Let’s do some writing.
If I ever open a fish taco stand, this will be our logo.
“Bling Bling I got the ring!”
I actually felt disgusted upon seeing this in Kohl’s.
If I ever saw this frame in your house I’d shove it so far up your ass you’d be pulling faux silver out of your mouth for weeks.
Any woman that owns this is the worst thing ever.
This picture frame is perfect for a Blu-Ray copy of 2002’s ‘The Ring’ starring Naomi Watts
The sky this morning when I left the house cast down a sense of gloom, gray clouds rolling in from the west, choking off the small stretch of open sky to the east. I headed out to run as confused and scared as everyone else. About a mile and a half into the run, I came to the Capitol, where the flag stands at half-mast in honor of those killed and injured in Boston yesterday.
I nearly stopped to cry, and all I wanted to do was turn around and go home. The stark image of mourning—official mourning—framed by a dark, looming sky was nearly too much for me.
The politics of self-identity can lead to great things. They can uplift and unite. They also can drive wedges between neighbors, turn sons against fathers, and cause unimaginable pain and suffering. It is for these latter reasons that I have found myself fighting the natural urge to self-label myself as anything, really—whether that is as a runner, or a scientist, or as a Buckeye—as foolish as that may sound.
Now though, I find my line of thinking to be exactly that: foolish. What we all have undoubtedly seen from yesterday is horrific, but it is also fantastically uplifting. Just as in New York, where runners ran through the city and helped people sort through their homes, there was an immediate outpouring of help and assistance in Boston. A surgeon who had just finished the race immediately went to the triage tent and worked with doctors there.
Runners do amazing things, and whoever did this couldn’t have picked a worse group to target. You’d be hard-pressed to find a kinder, more resolute group of people on the planet.
The 26 mile journey from Hopkinton to Boylston Street is our spiritual journey, our Hajj. Nothing will change that. Ever since I failed to qualify in 2009, I’ve spent a lot of time wondering if I have the resolve needed to qualify for the Boston Marathon. I know now, and the answer is yes—because I am a runner.
Runners’ retribution will not involve helicopters or toppled statues or international summits. Our retribution will be toeing the line, side by side with our brethren, heads high and smiling. It will involve handing out paper cups filled with Gatorade and handing out medals at a finish line.
It will involve celebration.
I headed out on my run this morning looking for some sort of answer, for some catharsis or anything, really to make sense of the world. I went out and forced a set of conditions on my run that made it impossible to do so, and so I ended up at the Capitol steps with tears in my eyes wondering if I should just go home and cut six miles down to three.
I didn’t. And so I continued westward, towards the dreary clouds lining the National Mall. When I got to the Washington Monument I turned around, and there was the answer that I had been looking for: an eastern sky filled with every pastel color you can imagine–yellows, purples, pinks, and oranges. The sun came up today and it filled the world with beauty, at least for a few minutes. And that will keep happening, regardless of how hard cowards try to take everything away.
I had no idea there was footage shot on the Moon from the perspective of a lunar rover passenger…basically a lunar rover dash cam. It’s the second half of this short video:
Amazing. The first part shows the rover speeding off (at about 6 miles/hr), being put through its paces. From the…
SPACE CARS ON THE MOON
This America, man.