So New: In Which I Workout at 5:30 am (2 of 90)

I love athletics. And I love working out. I’ve never been one of those people who dreaded the gym or physical activity.

Which isn’t to say I’ve always been diligent about it. But I am now.

What I’ve never been good at has been working out in the morning. I could always find some reason to get started a bit later. I’d tool around the house until it was time to start the day and before long, I’d find myself working out in the evening.

This is mostly well and good except I feel so much better after I work out that starting in the evening seemed like a waste. Yet each time I decided to turn over a new leaf, I’d smack the snooze and remind myself that I could always start tomorrow. (Yes, tomorrow. Much better than to…zzzzzzzzzz.)

Inspired by a friend who gets up every morning (sometimes at 4:30 am) to do either Bootcamp or spinning/running, I figured now was the time to stop hitting the snooze.

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So New: A Dinner in the City (1 of 90)

Every journey starts with a first step. Tonight that meant heading to the city for dinner.

While I’ve been in Muncie for a year, I haven’t actually done anything in Indianapolis. Sure I’ve visited a bit here and there, but when I started to think about what I’ve done…I came up empty. So I had big plans for my first foray into the city.

Unfortunately the Labor Day holiday set about squashing that. Either the places I’d planned to visit were closed or the crowds were expected to be quite large. Life is an adventure (I keep telling myself), which meant time to ditch the Negative Nelly and embrace the night.

What matters here is that I cleaned my car, put on the nice clothes, picked up a friend and went to Capri Ristoranti. (You can find my review of the place on Yelp).

We had a great time. I forgot how much I missed getting dressed up for reasons other than school. What I’ve learned in the last few years, though, is how much I love going out for dinner. When I was drinking, I never – ever – joined my friends for food. I would head to the bar and meet up with everyone later, usually half-cocked. At the time, I didn’t understand the draw of nights with food and conversation.

Today, I get it.

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The Chronicles, Vol. 1: Where I’ll Live Next

I’m early in this process, but I’ve been scouting around the Greater Indianapolis area to find the place that I’m going to live next. I love Muncie, but it’s simply not a place that I’ll find much of a social life. And the plan is to develop one of those.

As part of my plan, I’ll be doing some scouting runs in Indianapolis. Checking out places while I train for my upcoming marathon.

The leading candidate: Broad Ripple Village, which is just south of Meridian Hills on the map below. Off to the northeast of the map – Castleton – is the road I’d take to Muncie. I timed it today: 57 minutes with no traffic.

Ideal? No. But the community is really cute. A mix of Austin and San Francisco. Lots of health nuts running around. Cafes and parks. You know: things for an old sober guy to do.

Check out the Broad Ripple Village Things To Do brochure. (PDF)

Run Fatboy Run, a Tale of Addictions

My routine has been upended.

This is neither a tale of woe nor sorrow although in the beginning it certainly sounds that way. Like everyone else on the planet, I’m prone to fits and bouts of depressive-ness. This is not one of those times.

I started running at the end of April, 564.8 miles ago. My routine has been strict, save for a single handful of days when life has escaped me for some reason. Since I began, I’ve run in 5 states, 13 cities, 3 countries and 2 continents. I’ve befriended runners across nearly everywhere I’ve gone because – by and large – runners are pretty happy people when they are running.

I devoured Born to Run. Overhauled my eating habits (save for my pizza every other week). Purchased the Vibrams and used them daily.

But the running hasn’t been enough.

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In Which I Re-Start, a Dating Tale

I know it’s only August, but it’s already been a long, interesting year.

I’m amazed when people say that Time Flies. I don’t find that to be true (although I also say things like that from time to time so you can imagine the intense self loathing that happens here). At least I don’t find that to be true now.

In my sobriety, I’ve learned to really take the time to enjoy the little moments that happen each day, the little events that sometimes slip through the cracks. Because of that, I think the year seems to be moving more slowly. Or maybe it’s because I’ve laid out some rather large goals that simply time the passage of time (with some action) to come to fruition.

The Year of Health and The Year of Friends has really helped re-configure my life’s priorities. I’ve can feel how my life could be if I just keep moving forward. The Brad@40 plan is already helping me get my act together in the next few years.

The one thing I haven’t really done this year – other than a couple mis-steps – is date. I’ve purposefully removed myself from the dating pool, focusing on getting my sobriety and life in working order. Something I’ve never really done.

Now, though, it feels like it’s time:

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The Miracle on Grass…

When I was 8 years old, I remember watching the USA hockey team beat the Soviets. I remember because I was at my grandmother’s place. She had a small television, and while I didn’t understand exactly what was happening, I understood that it meant something.

It was a different time and place, but watching the US National Team play in the World Cup – as the great malaise of two wars, the continuing recession, the rising jobless rates – I can’t help but feel that same thing again.

I watch these young men with adult eyes, but still through the lens of that 8-year old. I don’t understand exactly what is happening, but I understand that it’s something.

So, it seems, do you:

In Which I Interview George Carlin (Circa 2001)

I’ve been thinking about George Carlin lately. Particularly his use of words. When I was a child, his comedy routines taught me the power of choosing words precisely and with purpose. He also taught me timing.

Many years later, I had the opportunity to interview him when I was working for Wired News. Depressingly, this is less a conversation and more a straight (and bad) interview. Still, the time we spent — about 2 hours all told — were the best experience of my professional career.

Here is that interview. (With thanks to Jeremy Barna, who pulled this out of the hopper for me.)

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Two Years Ago

Sunday, May 11, 2008. Mother’s Day.

I don’t need to look up the day. It’s etched in my head. When you call your parents from jail, you tend to remember those days.

That day would be the first day of my sobriety, which in 2 days will have reached 2 years. I promised my mother that day it would be. But I didn’t believe it. I believed it less as the days wore on and my mental and physical state become more precarious with each day.

I know it scared my parents. It certainly scared my mom because she couldn’t fix it. All she could do is watch and listen and hope.

It’s gotten easier on all of us, I think. We can now go a few days without a worried phone call, something that didn’t happen for much of that first  year. We have fallen back into the best parts of our normal lives, at least in regards to my alcoholism.

It’s not a perfect Mother’s Day gift, that normalcy, but it’s the continued fulfillment of a promise I made to my mom two years ago. And when I call her later today, it won’t be because I need to. It will be because I want to.

Happy Mother’s Day ma!

Los Suns

In a cynical time, it’s good to remember that sports — when it’s done right, and so rarely is it done so — reflects the very best of who we are a people. One group, dedicated to a single goal. For one night, in protest of the draconian immigration law passed in the state of Arizona, the Phoenix Suns will become Los Suns.

On My Father Missing My Posts

I spoke with my dad today. He lamented that he’s already missing my daily posts.

My family has (begrudgingly) accepted that I live in the meta-verse. I exist online in a far more real way that I do in the real world. This has it’s ups and downs. I’ll leave you to debate the merits of those things. For my father, I suspect it allows him a window into my world, one that is hard enough to get when you’re around somebody every day. And we are not.

The daily posts won’t be coming back. Not any time soon. It’s time to get on with my actual writing. School will be finished on Saturday (grades are due) and I’ve dedicated this summer to my writing.

That means less time online. Less time blogging. Less time Twittering.

This summer, it’s all about the words. And the stories.

But I promise to call more, pop.

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