For my friends who ran Boston yesterday....
http://www.crustedsalt.com/pages/crustedsalt_105.html
ENjoy!
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
Thursday, April 12, 2012
Crusted Salt comic strip #100 !!!
http://www.crustedsalt.com/pages/crustedsalt_100.html
The 100th Crusted Salt comic strip
Enjoy!
--Jimmy
The 100th Crusted Salt comic strip
Enjoy!
--Jimmy
Wednesday, April 4, 2012
Crusted Salt comic strip #94
http://www.crustedsalt.com/pages/crustedsalt_94.html
An homage to my favorite artist...Enjoy!
--Jimmy
An homage to my favorite artist...Enjoy!
--Jimmy
Monday, December 26, 2011
"Solo" Film Shoot, Haller Airpark & the Raising of the Bar
Just got back from a film shoot in Green Cove Springs, Florida. It was for a short film directed by Lex Sadasivan called Solo. I played a pilot named Ben who was having supernatural experiences while flying his experimental aircraft. The most amazing thing about this experience was the location at which it was filmed: Haller Air Park. Haller is a grass airstrip privately owned by a community consisting mostly of retired Navy and Air Force pilots. These men were some of the best ever to have flown jets for our country (including the pilot with the record for most carrier landings). They live in nice homes that surround the airstrip, each with their own hangars. They fly small planes, many of which they've built themselves. They can take off anytime they want, and fly almost anywhere they want, at any time of the day.
The pilots who live at Haller have built a heaven on earth for themselves. Of course, they still have to pay taxes, deal with the complexities that arise when human beings create associations, and pay high gas prices, but how could it get any better for these people? I came away from the experience believing I had met a group of men and women who knew how to grab the bull by the horns and make the best of all possible lives for themselves. I came away from my meeting with these remarkable people wanting to raise the bar higher for myself.
The pilot who had the most impact on the movie was a man named Dan Weseman. He was responsible for not only educating the actors about making the acting look real, but also performing all the aerial stunts seen in the movie. Dan flies an airplane like an Olympic gymnast controls her body---rolls, weaves, spins, loops, dives, tumbles, and other moves I have no name for. Dan also built and maintains the RV-4 plane that he flies in the movie.
I feel blessed to have met with these remarkable pilots and their families.
I feel the same way about the cast and crew of the film. Lisa Weseman (writer/producer), Lex Sadasivan (director), Bruce Dickson (producer/director of photography), Mark Ilvedson (production designer), Pete Victor (Best Boy/Gaffer) have been working in the TV and film business in Los Angeles for many years. Brian Young (Audio Recordist) has been working as a sound engineer and a professor of the art for over a decade in Florida.
Karen Overstreet (Sarah), a professional actress and teacher of the Sanford Meisner acting technique, brought a high level of energy and relaxed, precise, responsive acting to the set. Jimmy Jourdan (B.J.), a successful creator of (and actor in) Youtube comedies, seemed like an old pro in his first professional movie. Jeffery Crisp (Randy)--inventor, actor, musician, and more--put on a clinic on how to be relaxed and natural on camera. Even the young, inexperienced actors playing Maggie, young BJ and young Randy rose to the occasion (names withheld).
Karen Overstreet (Sarah), a professional actress and teacher of the Sanford Meisner acting technique, brought a high level of energy and relaxed, precise, responsive acting to the set. Jimmy Jourdan (B.J.), a successful creator of (and actor in) Youtube comedies, seemed like an old pro in his first professional movie. Jeffery Crisp (Randy)--inventor, actor, musician, and more--put on a clinic on how to be relaxed and natural on camera. Even the young, inexperienced actors playing Maggie, young BJ and young Randy rose to the occasion (names withheld).
Rachel Weseman (Dan's wife) not only put up with the bunch of us tracking dirt through (and taking over) her home, while keeping her eye on her three boys, but also did a superb job on make-up.
Lauren Sadasivan-McCoy and Kathryn Sadasivan took care of wardrobe, helping to choose what we wore, ironing clothes, and making sure everyone's costumes were ready and available on time--never missing a beat.
The professionalism I witnessed from all these people challenged me to raise the bar in my own life (just as much as the pilots did). A life-changing experience.
The professionalism I witnessed from all these people challenged me to raise the bar in my own life (just as much as the pilots did). A life-changing experience.
Many thanks to Bob & Carolyn Weseman for the existence and use of the Octagon house, hangar, and the best peanut brittle in the USA. Thanks to Jim & Rhonda Weseman for the amazing meals. And special thanks to Brett Weseman for playing some guitar with me.
Here are some links to photos of the Solo shoot and Haller Air Park (plus some added websites):
Saturday, June 18, 2011
Possum Trot 10k report
Possum Trot 10k
Roswell, GA
73°F 97% humidity
Sunny, wind 4mph
I walked a mile to the number pickup. I had to cancel the ritual pinning of my race number, which always takes place in my car and includes coffee, The Beatles, and the sacrifice of a virgin screwdriver (drink). The idea of walking three miles (there, back, and there again) before the race didn't float the boat in my moat, so I just pinned it on at the number pickup, while humming Come Together. My nephew tagged along today for his first ever 10k race. He ran XC at school last year, and has the racing bug. I got to be his Sherpa into 10k land.
The race grew by 100 runners this year to 755, a decent sized 10k. It was a closed course with two different out and backs and 4 good hills. They have D-chip timing. Because the walk to the car is so long, they give out goodie bags and t-shirts after the race. It was about 68°F at the start, warming up to 73°, with sun and very high humidity (97%).
I ran this race last year in a time of 51:06 (8:14 pace), and was just looking to improve upon that and my overall place. I am in a new age group this year, so didn't know what to expect. I was thinking 7:50 pace or better.
The race started and wound along the Chattahoochee River. There was a hill in the first mile, followed by a downhill. I ran 7:37 for the first mile. Again, a bit faster than I wanted to start. Haven't got the first mile pacing down just yet for a 10k. I felt good and got into a rhythm. The next 3 miles, the temps were rising, and I could feel the sun heating my 26.9% fat body. I ran the next two miles in 7:41 and 7:52. After the turnaround during mile 3, I passed my nephew. He was about 30 seconds behind at that point. I yelled some encouragement to him (love out and backs for this reason). By the end of mile 4 the race felt a little harder, but I was maintaining a good pace (7:48). The second hill came up at the beginning of mile 5. At the top, I felt a bit dizzy. It went away when I got back into a nice rhythm. Mile 5 was 7:55. About half way through mile 6, I got to a big hill, just when the race was feeling very, very hard. As soon as you get to the bottom on the other side, you turn around and run right back up it! One of the tough elements of this race that equalizes a lot of the flatness. I got over the hill the second time, and it was about a half mile to the finish. I came off the final downhill and tried to maintain that pace. I managed to pass a few people in the end. Running the last 1.21 miles at 8:01 average pace. Considering the hills in that last mile, not bad for me at this point. I finished the race, grabbed some water and went to cheer my nephew on at the finish. He was easy to spot as he must have passed 15 runners down the stretch. He ran a good first 10k (50:20), and was very proud of him.
I improved on last years time with a 48:38 (7:49) pace. An improvement of 2:28. It's also my best 10k since moving to Georgia. The size of the race brought me back to my normal age-group universe; there were no trophies, medals, or visits from the Queen this week (like there was the last two races). I need to get my 10k time down below 44:00 in this race to have a chance to finish in the top three. There were some decent 50-54 year old runners at this race.
I recommend the Possum Trot 10k. The race is well-organized. The course is fun with a challenging second half. Ample post race food. Nice t-shirt. All is good with this race.
It was a good morning in so many ways. 
7:37
7:41
7:52
7:48
7:55
9:45 (1.21 miles @ 8:01 pace)
7:41
7:52
7:48
7:55
9:45 (1.21 miles @ 8:01 pace)
48:38 (7:49 pace)
Overall place: 132 of 755
Age Group (50-54): 9th of 30
--Jimmy
Monday, June 6, 2011
A Day Of Weirdness and Firsts (Race Report)
Run The Rails 10k
Buford, GA
80ºF 70% humidity
Hot sun
Driving up to this race I missed my exit on the interstate and had to drive an extra 10 minutes to get back to it. This proved to be an omen for the start of the race.
I was running my warm-up and heard that the race was starting in 10 minutes, so I decided to go near the starting line. I looked down to check my laces and saw what looked like dirt on my right ankle--but it wasn't dirt. I checked the bottom of my left shoe and it wasn't pretty. It was one of Snoopy's smelly surprises embedded in the soul of my shoe like a thickening brownie mix on a waffle iron. I had to clean up quickly, there was less than ten minutes to the start of the race. The porto-potty line was too long, so I ran the 3/8's of a mile down the road to my car, which was parked on the first part of the race course. I cleaned myself and my shoe quickly, then started running back to the start at a brisk pace. The race director boomed that the race was starting in 1 minute. Cheers filled the air. I started sprinting. It was like one of those running nightmares I have had in which I can't get to the starting line on time. Some race volunteers told me to get out of the road and get to the left. I got up on the sidewalk. The race was starting in twenty seconds. I got to the starting line out of breath and slipped into an available space near the sidewalk, hoping I didn't smell like one of Snoopy's fresh ones. The race started five seconds later!
I wanted to beat the average pace I ran two weeks ago in a10k (49:21---7:57). My plan was to start out at 8:00 pace and then get my pace down to 7:50 and hold that feel. That didn't happen. I completely forgot there was a 5k race that started at the same time. I paced myself off the group and ended up with a quicker start of 7:34 in the first mile (my average pace in a 5k three weeks ago). I dialed back a bit. The next mile was mostly uphill and challenging; I ran 8:22. The sun was beating down, and it felt hot. The whole Dog Poo-Poo Enduced Sprint to the starting line and the fast first mile was in my head. I was thinking way too much. I decided to focus on the sounds of nature, breathing deeply from my lower belly, and racing the people around me. I relaxed.
Mile three had some downhill in it and--to my surprise--I ran a 7:10. I felt good, so I just kept the pace going. Mile 4 was the beginning of the second loop, which was near identical to the first 3 miles. Another zippy split--7:20.
I was running in my usual no man's land between clumps of runners. No one had passed me for awhile, and no one my age. I didn't see any 50 year olds close behind either. Whatever my place was in my age-group, I knew it was solid. I started to close in on the clump in front on the long hill at the end of the 5th mile, which was the same as mile 2. I saw one runner with some gray hair and tried to catch him. I pulled even with him and looked to be in the 60+ age-group. Solid runner. I finished the 5th mile in 8:26, just a tad slower than mile 2. I picked it up a bit. The last half mile is right along the railroad tracks. I heard a train coming just as I was beginning to really pour it on. It passed on my right about forty feet away. Loudly. I made a metaphor of it and pretended it was infusing me with the power of a locomotive. I could hear someone was trying to pass me from behind, and sprinted as hard as I could not to let that happen (ended up being a young woman). I could see the clock for the first time and realized I was going to break 49:00. I finished in 48:42. I was completely surprised. I truly thought I wasn't going to break 50:00. At the finish, Miss Buford, the town's reigning beauty queen, was collecting the timing chips. Tiara and all.
Come to find out, I won first place in my 50-54 age group! I beat 4 other guys including everyone in the 45-49 age group, and would have placed 4th in the 40-44 AG (click for .pdf of age group results)....16th of 120 runners overall. It was either the power of the locomotive, or the power of the poo-poo.
On the drive home, I listened to Bob Dylan's "Love And Theft" album. One of his best. I was stopped by police at an intersection so that a long line of motorcycle people could drive through. I wondered what that was all about. I also saw a sign for hair transplants for $2.00 a graft. I wondered if there was ever a corrupt politician who used his graft money to pay for some grafts.
I enjoyed my morning, in spite of the unfortunate gishing.
time: 48:42 *new Georgia personal best
7:50 ave pace
16th of 120 runners
1st of 5 in my age group
Buford, GA
80ºF 70% humidity
Hot sun
Driving up to this race I missed my exit on the interstate and had to drive an extra 10 minutes to get back to it. This proved to be an omen for the start of the race.
I was running my warm-up and heard that the race was starting in 10 minutes, so I decided to go near the starting line. I looked down to check my laces and saw what looked like dirt on my right ankle--but it wasn't dirt. I checked the bottom of my left shoe and it wasn't pretty. It was one of Snoopy's smelly surprises embedded in the soul of my shoe like a thickening brownie mix on a waffle iron. I had to clean up quickly, there was less than ten minutes to the start of the race. The porto-potty line was too long, so I ran the 3/8's of a mile down the road to my car, which was parked on the first part of the race course. I cleaned myself and my shoe quickly, then started running back to the start at a brisk pace. The race director boomed that the race was starting in 1 minute. Cheers filled the air. I started sprinting. It was like one of those running nightmares I have had in which I can't get to the starting line on time. Some race volunteers told me to get out of the road and get to the left. I got up on the sidewalk. The race was starting in twenty seconds. I got to the starting line out of breath and slipped into an available space near the sidewalk, hoping I didn't smell like one of Snoopy's fresh ones. The race started five seconds later!
I wanted to beat the average pace I ran two weeks ago in a10k (49:21---7:57). My plan was to start out at 8:00 pace and then get my pace down to 7:50 and hold that feel. That didn't happen. I completely forgot there was a 5k race that started at the same time. I paced myself off the group and ended up with a quicker start of 7:34 in the first mile (my average pace in a 5k three weeks ago). I dialed back a bit. The next mile was mostly uphill and challenging; I ran 8:22. The sun was beating down, and it felt hot. The whole Dog Poo-Poo Enduced Sprint to the starting line and the fast first mile was in my head. I was thinking way too much. I decided to focus on the sounds of nature, breathing deeply from my lower belly, and racing the people around me. I relaxed.
Mile three had some downhill in it and--to my surprise--I ran a 7:10. I felt good, so I just kept the pace going. Mile 4 was the beginning of the second loop, which was near identical to the first 3 miles. Another zippy split--7:20.
I was running in my usual no man's land between clumps of runners. No one had passed me for awhile, and no one my age. I didn't see any 50 year olds close behind either. Whatever my place was in my age-group, I knew it was solid. I started to close in on the clump in front on the long hill at the end of the 5th mile, which was the same as mile 2. I saw one runner with some gray hair and tried to catch him. I pulled even with him and looked to be in the 60+ age-group. Solid runner. I finished the 5th mile in 8:26, just a tad slower than mile 2. I picked it up a bit. The last half mile is right along the railroad tracks. I heard a train coming just as I was beginning to really pour it on. It passed on my right about forty feet away. Loudly. I made a metaphor of it and pretended it was infusing me with the power of a locomotive. I could hear someone was trying to pass me from behind, and sprinted as hard as I could not to let that happen (ended up being a young woman). I could see the clock for the first time and realized I was going to break 49:00. I finished in 48:42. I was completely surprised. I truly thought I wasn't going to break 50:00. At the finish, Miss Buford, the town's reigning beauty queen, was collecting the timing chips. Tiara and all.
Come to find out, I won first place in my 50-54 age group! I beat 4 other guys including everyone in the 45-49 age group, and would have placed 4th in the 40-44 AG (click for .pdf of age group results)....16th of 120 runners overall. It was either the power of the locomotive, or the power of the poo-poo.
On the drive home, I listened to Bob Dylan's "Love And Theft" album. One of his best. I was stopped by police at an intersection so that a long line of motorcycle people could drive through. I wondered what that was all about. I also saw a sign for hair transplants for $2.00 a graft. I wondered if there was ever a corrupt politician who used his graft money to pay for some grafts.
I enjoyed my morning, in spite of the unfortunate gishing.
time: 48:42 *new Georgia personal best
7:50 ave pace
16th of 120 runners
1st of 5 in my age group
-Jimmy
Thursday, May 5, 2011
I Am The Walrus
Get your hands off my bear claw! Leave me alone in peace so I can eat it and watch Oprah Season 25: Behind The Scenes. Please.
Yes, I know I constantly complain I'm still fat. Yes, I know that each pound adds 1-2 seconds per mile. Yes, I know I look like an apple. I'm running faster at the same heart rate, so I think I'm okay. I've lost a pound in the last ten days, but to be intellectually honest, that could be just from finally being able to resume peristalsis after 10 days of coffee, cheese and croissants in Paris. I don't have to tell you what travel and the change of diet does to me. Plaster of Paris in the pipes.
I'm fully confident that I'll be ten pounds lighter by the fall. Yes, I know that it's also 100% certain that--come winter--I'll put the ten pounds right back on. It's not my fault that I was born to yearn anything made with dough and fried in lard when it's cold. It's in my genes. I'm like a walrus that needs that layer of blubber to survive in the cold waters of the Arctic. Yes, I know I can put on extra clothes. Yes, I know I can turn up the heat in the house. I'm telling you, it's my genetics and there is absolutely nothing I can do about it.
If I didn't eat this bear claw now, I would be thinking about it every five minutes for the rest of my life. My body wanted one, not me. It needed this fine delicacy. I know I have a race next week. I know that I'll be running heavy again like last year. I know my man boobs will be jiggling beneath my singlet, and that the risk of my nipples getting chaffed has increased ten-fold. Well, maybe I'm just tired of maintaining all the time--fighting the forces of nature. Maybe, I'll be happier if I stop the fight, and just give in to who I really am. Be the walrus. I'm going to die anyway, and no matter how well I live, that death will not be pleasant. I'm going to create a motto and put it on a personal flag:
I know I have dreams of someday winning an age-group trophy at a race. I know I have dreams of being worshipped and feared by the other 90 year-old men in that age group--in the year 2051. But what about this moment? If I live life fully now, then isn't that happiness?
Remember the catacombs in Paris? Well, let me tell you, I didn't make it through that dark claustrophobic musty mole hole lined with hundreds of thousands of bones and skulls without a few dents in "My Armored Suit Of The Denial Of My Own Mortality" that I wear like an armadillo in a cage of hungry, gun-toting hunters drunk on Coors. In the great span of time, I'm already being dug up by an archeologist a few thousand years in the future who thinks (because of the remnants of my flag) that I was a high priest who worshipped a walrus god named Lard.
All I have is this present moment, and this bear claw, and Oprah, and your love and concern, and your beautiful face. Give me some yum, baby. Life is all about the yum. Mmmmmm, yummmmmm.
__________
©2011 Jimmy Brunelle
All rights reserved
Yes, I know I constantly complain I'm still fat. Yes, I know that each pound adds 1-2 seconds per mile. Yes, I know I look like an apple. I'm running faster at the same heart rate, so I think I'm okay. I've lost a pound in the last ten days, but to be intellectually honest, that could be just from finally being able to resume peristalsis after 10 days of coffee, cheese and croissants in Paris. I don't have to tell you what travel and the change of diet does to me. Plaster of Paris in the pipes.
I'm fully confident that I'll be ten pounds lighter by the fall. Yes, I know that it's also 100% certain that--come winter--I'll put the ten pounds right back on. It's not my fault that I was born to yearn anything made with dough and fried in lard when it's cold. It's in my genes. I'm like a walrus that needs that layer of blubber to survive in the cold waters of the Arctic. Yes, I know I can put on extra clothes. Yes, I know I can turn up the heat in the house. I'm telling you, it's my genetics and there is absolutely nothing I can do about it.
If I didn't eat this bear claw now, I would be thinking about it every five minutes for the rest of my life. My body wanted one, not me. It needed this fine delicacy. I know I have a race next week. I know that I'll be running heavy again like last year. I know my man boobs will be jiggling beneath my singlet, and that the risk of my nipples getting chaffed has increased ten-fold. Well, maybe I'm just tired of maintaining all the time--fighting the forces of nature. Maybe, I'll be happier if I stop the fight, and just give in to who I really am. Be the walrus. I'm going to die anyway, and no matter how well I live, that death will not be pleasant. I'm going to create a motto and put it on a personal flag:
I know I have dreams of someday winning an age-group trophy at a race. I know I have dreams of being worshipped and feared by the other 90 year-old men in that age group--in the year 2051. But what about this moment? If I live life fully now, then isn't that happiness?
Remember the catacombs in Paris? Well, let me tell you, I didn't make it through that dark claustrophobic musty mole hole lined with hundreds of thousands of bones and skulls without a few dents in "My Armored Suit Of The Denial Of My Own Mortality" that I wear like an armadillo in a cage of hungry, gun-toting hunters drunk on Coors. In the great span of time, I'm already being dug up by an archeologist a few thousand years in the future who thinks (because of the remnants of my flag) that I was a high priest who worshipped a walrus god named Lard.
All I have is this present moment, and this bear claw, and Oprah, and your love and concern, and your beautiful face. Give me some yum, baby. Life is all about the yum. Mmmmmm, yummmmmm.
__________
©2011 Jimmy Brunelle
All rights reserved
Thursday, February 10, 2011
The Shout Of A Left Rear Bumper
Look at all you young cross country poops running on the sidewalk, trying to make the team. Look this way. Look at my car. Look at my bumper. Look at the green sticker that says everything about the old man you see driving.
Stop looking down at the road! I better slow down; give you time to realize just who is driving by. Maybe you already looked, and only saw a gray-haired man driving real slow, and you thought the derogatory term "q-tip". Then you went back to your slow running, heavy breathing, and supercilious youth. If you would have just seen the sticker, you would have known that I ran a marathon--twenty six point two miles. I'm gonna stop the car and make sure you know. I just so happen to have a box of colored chalk underneath my Neil Young CD's in my armrest.
Now you know what my best marathon time is! Do you know how fast that is? You think you're really something on race day, running that 5k cross country course at a pace of seven minutes and forty four seconds per mile. Well, I ran a whole marathon at a pace that is one second better than that.
Oh! I have to stop the car again! Quickly.
Look at my 7:43, look at it! Please! Please! You're not looking. Wait, don't run off.
You're looking! That's it. Now look at the sticker. Give me a sign that you understand the magnitude of the magnificence that my decorated bumper symbolizes. Just one little morsel of recognition. Please. Just a crumb.
Darn, I got a red light. Don't run off, wait, wait!
They're gone. They'll never know.
Hey there, pretty woman, behind me, in the rather large SUV--the same make and model as Tony Soprano's. You must feel safe and rich up there in that seat. Look at my bumper. Look at it. Don't look back at your kids. Stop talking on the cell phone. Don't text. Don't text! Look at my bumper. Look at me. LOOK AT ME!
__________
©2011 Jimmy Brunelle
All rights reserved
Stop looking down at the road! I better slow down; give you time to realize just who is driving by. Maybe you already looked, and only saw a gray-haired man driving real slow, and you thought the derogatory term "q-tip". Then you went back to your slow running, heavy breathing, and supercilious youth. If you would have just seen the sticker, you would have known that I ran a marathon--twenty six point two miles. I'm gonna stop the car and make sure you know. I just so happen to have a box of colored chalk underneath my Neil Young CD's in my armrest.
Now you know what my best marathon time is! Do you know how fast that is? You think you're really something on race day, running that 5k cross country course at a pace of seven minutes and forty four seconds per mile. Well, I ran a whole marathon at a pace that is one second better than that.
Oh! I have to stop the car again! Quickly.
Look at my 7:43, look at it! Please! Please! You're not looking. Wait, don't run off.
I can juggle. I can juggle!
I was an A student in high school! I know you can relate to that! Maybe.
You're looking! That's it. Now look at the sticker. Give me a sign that you understand the magnitude of the magnificence that my decorated bumper symbolizes. Just one little morsel of recognition. Please. Just a crumb.
Darn, I got a red light. Don't run off, wait, wait!
They're gone. They'll never know.
Hey there, pretty woman, behind me, in the rather large SUV--the same make and model as Tony Soprano's. You must feel safe and rich up there in that seat. Look at my bumper. Look at it. Don't look back at your kids. Stop talking on the cell phone. Don't text. Don't text! Look at my bumper. Look at me. LOOK AT ME!
__________
©2011 Jimmy Brunelle
All rights reserved
Monday, January 24, 2011
Inflammation
Here's a good article on inflammation by Dr. Phil Maffetone:
Endurance Athletes: No Immunity from Heart Disease
Endurance Athletes: No Immunity from Heart Disease
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