This past July, I walked/ran the
Bix 7 with my dad, my first time doing the event, his 15th or 16th. My dad's been trying to get me and my brother to do it for sometime now, last year was the first either of us had gone. And I'm extremely glad I did, it was a fun experience and an overall good time. We signed up as walkers, because neither of us had trained very much, and wanted to enjoy the seven miles at a leisurely pace. We started near the end of the 15,000+ large pack of people, and took about 10 minutes for us to actually get to the starting line after the race had commenced. Our "official" race time was 1 hour, 44 minutes, and 32 seconds for myself, with my dad coming in three seconds later, so we probably actually did it in just over an hour and a half, which is not bad at all for walking. We did run the last mile or so, so we did make up some time, but we still did ok for an out-of-shape 25 year-old and a slightly more in-shape 57 year-old. Plus, we had a pretty awesome picture taken of us, which I'll get to in a minute. (They have a stand set up near the finish line that takes a picture of everyone as they come in, then a couple of weeks later the photos are sent out and you have the option of ordering photos. We had to order a copy of ours, you'll see why in a minute.)
I bring this up because my dad just got an entry form for this year's Bix, on July 29th. I am already pumped up to do it again. The race was a great time, then there's the "after party" where they have tons of free food, music, and even free beer once you've finished. (The beer line is always the longest, go figure.) There's also bands set up along the route, and people cheering on the participants the whole way. The route's pretty intense, a fewI bring all of this up because my dad got some information recently about signing up for this killer hills, and the first mile is entirely uphill. But that's not the worst part, that comes a few miles into it, shortly before the turn-around point, when the hill grade gets near 25%.
(I don't know if that's the actual grade, but it sure as hell feels like it after you've gone 3 miles.) The map of the course is to the right. Also, the road race is just a part of the festivities. The entire weekend is the
Bix Beiderbecke Memorial Jazz Festival, with a street fest in downtown Davenport, and jazz bands playing the entire weekend all throughout the town, including my favorite venue, LeClaire Park, on the Mississippi River. (For those unaware, Bix Beiderbecke was a talented trumpet player in the 1920's, a Dixieland jazz artist, from Davenport, IA. Good stuff.)
Anyways, besides having an entry form for this year's Bix, there was a postcard with last year's results. I had thought I did ok, but it turns out in my age division, I finished 1343 out of 1404, meaning I beat 61 people. Great. But it gives me a goal now, I gotta improve that. And this year, we're running it the whole way. Or at least jogging most of it. Probably a few breaks to walk. And maybe re-tie a shoe. My overall place wasn't that bad, at 8782, right around 50%. So I can feel better about that, I guess. And this year, I may have even moved up a bracket, into the 26-30 age range. So with age comes slowness, right? Well, not for me. I'm actually going to kind of train this year, I've started working out a little, and will increase that with improving weather. My goal is to get closer to a 10-minute mile pace, maybe even try to push it to an hour. I think I can do that. I will do that.
So, as promised, here's the picture of my dad and me as we neared the finish line for 2006's Bix 7. This may be one of my favorite pictures of myself, just because I look ridiculous (I was going for the Howard Dean "BEEYAH!" look, and I am absolutely
rockin' that headband. I need to bust that out more often), my dad looks a little ridiculous, and, as many people have pointed out, we look like we've been running hard, while the woman behind us is casually strolling. Our shirts are soaked, mostly from pouring water out over ourselves to try to cool off on a hot day.
Beeyah indeed.
dad (Mel to anyone that meets him), so let me describe him for the rest of you. He's where I get my red hair, but not where I get my lack of mustache-growing ability. He's had a mustache for most of the time I've been around, there have been two times that he's shaved it, and it just doesn't look the same. I get my love for the Hawkeyes from him, also my love of baseball. He went to the University of Iowa to become a pharmacist, once had his own pharmacy, and now works in my hometown of Muscatine, IA, at the Hy-Vee, as a pharmacist. He'll come play home run derby with me and my friends, and every one loves having him there. He's a good pitcher, and can crank out dingers left- and right-handed. Nearly every Thursday, he'll come up to Iowa City to meet up with this dancing group in town, and usually when he's here, he'll take my brother and me out for some dinner. That's always awesome. He's married to a great lady, Jennifer, and has a great dog named Skipper. (I don't remember what kind of dog he is, he's little, with white curly hair, and is one of the most well-behaved dogs I've ever seen.) Some of my best memories from my childhood days are playing football with him in our front yard, me against my brother, with Dad being the all-time quarterback. Good times!
I was acting interested in what H was saying, but my mind was on the burger
Me and the boys discuss the game plan
Ordering with gusto
Guessing the size of the behemoth
The Flenker is not impressed
Digging in
I like my burgers a little pinker, but this will have to do
I was going so fast, it appeared as a blur (notice Strickland in the background, empty space on the table)
I slowed down a little for photographic evidence (Strickland still burger-less)
Time for a bib
Getting near the end (Strickland still not eating)
Wiping the mouth while Strickland watches with jealous eyes
VICTORY!
(I don't know if that's the actual grade, but it sure as hell feels like it after you've gone 3 miles.) The map of the course is to the right. Also, the road race is just a part of the festivities. The entire weekend is the Bix Beiderbecke Memorial Jazz Festival, with a street fest in downtown Davenport, and jazz bands playing the entire weekend all throughout the town, including my favorite venue, LeClaire Park, on the Mississippi River. (For those unaware, Bix Beiderbecke was a talented trumpet player in the 1920's, a Dixieland jazz artist, from Davenport, IA. Good stuff.)
Cassadaga, the latest album from Bright Eyes, was released yesterday, and I'm getting through my first full listen of it now. It's good. Very good. And on this glorious, seemingly ironically excellent day, it's perfect. (For those of you not reading this from the Midwest, there has been some extremely unseasonably cold weather, complete with some huge, huge snowflakes falling in Iowa City today. Incredibly beautiful. I love this. It's like Iowa City knew that I was going to be leaving after the summer, and wanted to give me one last snow, just as a nice little going away thought. Everyone around is bitching about the weather, while I'm walking around with a big, dopey smile on my face.) This album is a nice mix of some country-tinged tunes, showing what I feel has been the natural growth of Conor Oberst. If one were to listen to Fevers and Mirrors and then immediately play this album, they'd probably find it hard to believe that both came from the same band/musician, but, listening through their catalogue as it's grown, the band becomes more of an organic being, maturing with each song. It may help that Oberst around the same age as me, so maybe I'm kind of growing the same way. That may be a stretch, but it's nice to think. I haven't decided on a favorite song yet, I'll have to listen a few times more.
borrow an analogy from Bill Simmons, I had a no-hitter through 7, brimming with confidence. I had lost the perfect game with a walk and an error, but was still going strong, no one could touch me. Then, on my best pitch, I gave up a triple off the wall. Now the other team is threatening to score, while my bats have been silent for sometime now. And I'm pretty sure the pitches were being tipped somehow, and the signals between me and the bench had somehow gotten confused. Now, with confidence shaken, I gotta try to maintain composure and finish the inning. I know about 94% of the people reading this won't get the reference, and that may be a conservative estimate. But I find it hilarious, so the whole day was fun for me. Just humor me this. Thanks.
