Retrospective Running (get it?) Diary

A look into the minds of .02% of yesterday’s runners:

CPG: God I should have worn mid-high Nike socks to look more lax and less track

PH: This isn’t depressing, I just made the turn out of the starting line and guys are on the other side of the street about to finish

CPG: What percentage of the proceeds went to renting all those porta-potties?

PH: These are some of the biggest asses I’ve ever seen

CPG: What pace is too fast to keep this side part in place?

PH: Hey lady, save your self the embarrassment and just stay home next year

CPG: Dear lady wearing corduroys in a 5k — I hate you

PH: Wonder if Charlie is running or riding his segway?

CPG: I bet Pat already vomited

PH: Jorts and Chuck Taylors while running?  Yeah, you’re probably in high finance

CPG: If someone says “on the right” I’m going to punch them in the neck

PH: I wonder if anyone else is rocking out to Heart’s “Alone” on their iPod?

CPG: Leg tattoos. Didn’t you learn your lesson from tribal bands in the 90′s? Call me in a decade

PH: Well, it’s only a little demoralizing that the kid with one leg on crutches has a lead on me going into Kenmore square

CPG: God this is so racist. I can’t wait to drink

PH: Thank God I remembered my compression shorts

CPG: I feel awkward running without a lax stick in my hand

PH: I wonder if the guy spraying people with the hose is only spraying white people.  You know, to not bring back the bad memories?

CPG: I wish Thomas Pink made a dry-fit tee

PH: I wonder if Charlie kept his bow tie on during the race

CPG: I’d like to thank all the unemployed hipsters who got off the couch and into their skinny jeans to hand out free Starbucks juices to runners

PH: I hope I remembered to DVR Grey’s

CPG:  Nice Oakleys Lance

PH: If I lose to Suzie from accounting, I’m never going to live this down

CPG: I should have stretched. My legs are tight from wearing this 6 THOUSAND DOLLAR suit all day. COME ON

PH: Ok… I’ve gotta work on my “oh, its wasn’t that bad” face because I’m about to meet up with my coworkers

CPG: This was surprisingly not bad. I’m definitely going to fool myself into signing up for more and then say fuck it the day of.

-Pat and Charles

Races and Race

R.I.P. Michael Jackson

I wanted to wake up today and type away at my Blackberry about the JP Morgan 5K. However, since the death of MJ is on everyone’s mind right now, allow me to digress and ruminate about the King of Pop, R.I.P.

When now President Obama was running for the oval office last year, I remember numerous media members contending that if the American public elected a black president we would have subsequently entered a post-race world. I don’t buy that for a second. I wish it were true but it’s not.  When a black kid is walking down the street with a watermelon and nobody thinks about making a joke – that is when we have entered a post-race America.

However, I think MJ has done more for this social phenomeonal/endeavor than anyone else.  Perfect example was last night at the starting line of the 5K I ran. News/rumors about his death began to circulate amidst the crowd of over 10,000 and from where I was standing, there was a vast range of emotions evoked by this. People were sad, sarcastic and confused but mostly sad. The point is a bunch of white people who chose to run for their respective corporations, who were donating to put inner city kids through summer school, were publicly upset about a man who began his career as an African-American and unfortunatley, died trying to redeem it as a Caucasian. And everyone fucking loves Michael Jackson’s music, even if, like us all, he is completely and utterly fallible. I think this is as close to a post-race world we have seen. Sorry for not taking the low-road and make some sarcastic comments about this. It was too easy and unnecessary. Now put the volume up on “Billy Jean” and give the man a little respect in passing. Peace.

Corporate Challenges

God look at that 'stache

Today is a very big day for me guys. First, June 25th marks my 2nd full year since I entered this crazy thing we call the real world. That’s right. It’s officially been 24 months since I first started working at the bank. I’m actually not as depressed as I should be. Granted, I have had zero promotions to date and have only moved – voluntarily when the bank started tanking – laterally. But I also understand we are in the worst economic climate since the Great Depression. If anything, I feel like I’m in a giant period of limbo – the perpetual Purgatory of entry-level finance. It’s not Hell in the the sense that I have a decent paying job and a moderate level of job security but it sure as fuck isn’t the Promised Land.

Second, tonight is the JP Morgan Corporate Challenge 5K in which approximately 12,000 yuppies decide to run a few miles because it was paid for, you get a free t-shirt and it justifies pounding back Bud Light bottles the rest of the night. However, as the big race approaches I can’t help but feel very guilty because I have a sneaking suspicion that this is the most racist thing I’ve ever participated in. As my good friend Mr. R once quipped, “this makes absolutely no sense and all the sense in the world.” So based off this theory I contend that this race may or may not be subtly racist:

First off, it’s a corporate event sponsored by JP Morgan. This is going to make the crowd at the US Open last weekend look like a march in Birmingham in 1967. Second, they gave not one but two free t-shirts away. Anytime free t-shirts are given away and you haven’t just won a national championship, it could be racist. I’m not necessarily saying it is…just be careful. Third, it’s 3.1 miles – short enough where athleticism isn’t really a factor but long enough for some Assistant Vice President from Bank of New York or Yahoo to get the endorphins flowing enough to get all fired up. Add that to the numerous open company tabs around Boston proceeding the race a  bunch of middle-aged white guys with Under Armour will be attending and it could be a disaster. I’m just saying, this could be one politically incorrect joke away from being very awkward.

So basically, ya I’ll be partaking. But I’ll also be on the lookout for anything unusual. By the way, in case you’re watching, I am registered number 3700 but plan on finishing well behind that. Peace.

-Charles “Didn’t I see you in City Sports today?” G

Turning Tricks: An American Myth

General Joseph Hooker: A fine soldier indeed

Thomas Philip O’Neil once stated that “All politics is local.” The point he was trying to convey was that everything starts at home. Your local relationships are the most important. And I agree with ol’ Tip. Therefore, my goal for this blog will be to ruminate about the random happenings in and around the city of Boston. Where’s the best after work watering hole? Why the fuck does Downtown Crossing smell like a cigarette even though it’s completely outdoors? Does Centerfolds have a Sunday night discount? (Spoiler alert: they do.) In essence, expect an all-encompassing guide/narrative concerning the venerable vices twenty-something Bostonians may enjoy. Oh, and if you don’t know who Tip O’Neil is: no, you did not try hard enough in school, and yes, your parents are disappointed in you, even if they don’t say it. So, without further ado – my inaugural post:

The city of Boston has officially decided to turn into London. We had the cobblestone. We had low-rise brownstones. We had the plethora of bars. Now we have the rain. I spent about a week in London in college and this is how it was every single day. Except that I was intoxicated the majority of the time. Now, however, I have a job so I can’t just drink my way through it. This time instead of posting up at some pub to imbibe copious amounts of Boddington cans and smoke cigarettes inside to wash down the shitty British food, I have to go outside in the urban jungle and fend for myself. Of course, by fend for myself I mean walk up a few blocks and buy some overpriced sushi.

I always hit up this place Zen on Beacon St. Highly recommend it. But this is neither here nor there. On my way back to the Financial District I walked past the State House and subsequently noticed the massive statue adjacent to the golden dome. If you are unfamiliar with it or you are part of the aforementioned group that did not try hard enough in school and are disappointing your parents every day with your mediocrity, the statue I am talking about is that of General Joseph Hooker. Legend has it this is where the term “hooker” actually derives from. Allegedly, the “Handsome Captain” as he was called back in his fighting days was a hard boozer and an even harder womanizer. Basically, he was me but with an insatiable desire to make the rivers flow with Confederate blood.

But enough history. This got me thinking: if General Hooker’s libido induced the term “hooker” how dare the prostitution industry claim to be “the oldest profession in the world.” Complete and utter claim. This is the equivalent of saying strippers came before bankers, 19 year old Northern Jersey girls with a Bebe shirt, low self-esteem and a fake ID came before the New York Yankees organization, or that voluntary female student trainers came before organized collegiate lacrosse. Give me a fucking break.

What came first, the chicken or the egg? Well hypothetically let’s say the chicken was an affluent white male of power. Then, just for shit’s sake, let’s say the egg wasn’t hugged enough, needed to pay rent and held a unique set of skills involving blow jobs and discretion. You tell me which one came first. Therefore, while I respect the prostitution industry and what they’re trying to do, I hereby do NOT condone the claim that they are “the oldest profession in the world.” Urban myth. Now I’m going to go buy some fucking sashimi and think about a wonderful young woman I met in Hamburg, Germany last winter. Peace.

-Charles G