The vacant area on the left is supposed to represent my mind during a long run!

Friday, May 27, 2011

A fIRE On The Plain

Yes, this latest rant exiting my wine induced brain may seem to be non-sense to the average running mammal. The fact is that the great tunage by one of the the primo bass extrodiarres in the whole universe, Mike Watt, amps me up to the point that it could potentially turn a possible rail-trail bike ride into an exercise of dementia.

Yes, the bands Watt happens to accompany sounds genious all around. His jazz/punk/rocknroll/Motown tendencies helps transfuse his great talent of make his bass guitar sound like a style of his own. The past couple of days, his sounds have been bouncing off my overly-active neurons to the point that listening to his material translates to a run or a bike on a very dusty plain in a rural portion of the Mid-Western United States.

Some great tunage by fIREHOSE!

Some great rocknroll wisdom by Mike Watt!

Sunday, May 15, 2011

Blue Spark

As the legendary punk rock band X exclaims in their shoot-em up tunage on their track entitled "Spark," my biceps were actually invigorated by the thought of the twenty pound dumbells being lifted into the air until my muscles screamed to end these motions. These motions were not felt like a punishment for the first time in a while as I was stupidly placed on the injury squad for lifting.... I was relegated to the skimpy ten pound weights as my tendons were so sore I could not lift a twenty into the sky effectively.

Enjoy the great sounds of X .... I know it will sound much better than this quick electronic etching.

Sunday, May 8, 2011

On a Plain

Rotating my feet circularly while my abnoxious yellow mountain bike propelled on the semi-dusty plain of Missouri's semi-famous Katy Trail is what occupied my late morning to early afternoon trot. Fortunently, many current meteorologist's favorite game of creating out hand paranoia ended today when this lame exercise ended up resembling nothing more than a bunch of old fashion turkey jive.

What is all this wordage leading me to? Is it saying that some lame 47 year old rock star critic wanna-bee turned late blooming weekend athlete? I do not know, but let me rewind a bit more than 24 hours. My bike [aka ; Elvis] guided myself and my two children along this jaunt. At least this journey was "an easy" 13 or so miles.... take that back reader gazin' upon this rant. My daughter Shannon at least claimed to have a hard time keeping up the peddling at certain strategic times. What could we do as our bikes/our legs were working in sync with our noggin, concentrating upon putting a check next to the box of our latest goal.