Showing posts with label Disneyland. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Disneyland. Show all posts

Monday, December 8, 2014

From 0 to 5K with #RunDisney & The Avengers

If you know me in real life, you might know that there are three things I’m typically not a big fan of: waking up early, exercising and birthdays. So naturally when I was invited to participate in RunDisney’s inaugural Avengers Half Marathon at Disneyland, which was scheduled to begin at 5:30am on my birthday, I rejected the concept in my head before I even knew what it was really about. But then I found out about a 5K race being run the day before the half marathon and actually gave it a second thought, and then a third thought, before accepting the invitation/challenge. Oh, did I mention this call was 9 days before the event?
So why would I jump blindly into something like a 5K with no notice? Because I had to. No, neither Captain America nor Mickey Mouse forced me to run, my sons did. It occurred to me over the summer when we’d take our nightly family walks after dinner that I was having trouble keeping up with my two boys. Kids love to run, especially after a meal that has refilled their gas tanks, and mine love to sprint back and forth down the blocks to burn some of that energy. After several weeks of feeling winded from running half a block to catch them, I knew it was time for change. I just didn’t know how to actually do it.

So Mrs. Dude and I started going for power walks in the evenings through our hilly neighborhood. At first I thought I was going to collapse after 10 minutes, but it got incrementally easier the more often we did it and before long we were averaging about 2 ½ miles. The problem was consistency, as my exercise frequency varied between zero and 2 or 3 times per week. Finding the time, or rather making the time, to exercise can be challenging. It can also be daunting to someone like me who’s never really had much fitness experience or education.

So with my almost-big birthday looming and having committed to running the Avengers 5K, I had to figure some things out quickly. And not the least of which was how was this lifelong night owl going to run a race at 5:30am! I knew that my workout inconsistency had to change. I figured that if nothing else I could at least walk the 5K course, but my goal quickly became more than that. I didn’t know how to quantify my goal, but I knew I needed to do a couple practice 5Ks to gauge things. I figured with 9 days to go, I could fit in 3 or 4 trial runs before the actual event.

So that night I set out alone in the dark to figure out how to prep for a 5K. It had been almost a month since my last vigorous exercise, but I wasn’t quite starting from scratch. I knew that 5K equals 3.1 miles and using the “Map My Walk” iPhone app, I started walking until I reached that distance. Up, down and around my neighborhood I watched the app’s odometer inch upward, seemingly very slowly, until I returned home a wheezing, sweaty mess. But I’d done it. I’d now completed a real 5K via a hybrid of mostly walking with bursts of running interspersed throughout.
5 days until the Avengers 5K

Five more times over the next week I did the same thing and despite varying the course on every occurrence, on each instance my overall time improved. I was feeling good about my prospects in the race and, more importantly, also about myself. With only a few calendar ticks remaining until I began the last year of my 30s, I was on a mission for my family and myself. Avengers 5K and Disneyland, here I come…
1 day until my first 5K!
To Be Continued

Disclaimer: I was invited by RunDisney to participate in their Avengers 5K race weekend. All opinions and ideas expressed in this post are mine alone, for better or worse. 

Note: Before beginning any rigorous exercise/training program you should consult with your physician. My exercise/training results and race preparation were not typical. YMMV.


Monday, June 4, 2012

Old Man at The Sea

Mrs. Dude and I started taking the Little Dude to the beach last summer when he was a year and a half old.  We wanted it to be a fun experience for our whole family.  It costs about a million dollars less than going to Disneyland, which is a good start.


The coast in LA is usually very overcast in the morning before the marine layer burns off. That’s a fancy way of saying it’s usually cold and gray until after noon, which perfectly describes our visit. As a result, the beach was nearly empty when we arrived.  

We picked a spot near the lifeguard tower, and then set up our blankets, coolers and toys.  The only thing missing was the sun. Fortunately we brought sweatshirts because it was a brisk 62 degrees out.  It felt like being sequestered with Ben and Jerry, or rather in one of their freezers.


We met the young stoner  lifeguard who was hanging out in the adjacent tower on one of our 87 trips up and down his ramp, which he didn’t seem to mind. Or he may have just been a little too dazed and confused to notice on this early Saturday morning.

After a while I noticed a group of 8 teenagers come in with a stack of 8 pizza boxes and set up camp about 75 feet away from us. There were a couple dorky guys who were shamelessly trying to impress the girls in the group.  I had to watch them to see if the kid who looked like a 95-pound String Bean with bad acne would be swept away by a strong gust of wind.

Also, with such a small group I wondered what the deal was with all the pizzas.

After a while, Mrs. Dude and my Little Dude were off exploring the water when I noticed one of the teen girls wearing jeans, boots and a hoodie, lying on the sand trying to get comfortable.  It wasn’t sunny out, so she wasn’t going to get tan even if she hadn’t been dressed for the Alaskan apocalypse. Her friends then covered her up with a blanket.  What were these dopes were up to?

Once she was fully covered, they started covering the blanket with slices of pizza. I think they wanted to see if the seagulls hovering nearby were lactose intolerant. Surprisingly, after a few minutes no birds came. Then I noticed the pizzas were from Domino’s, so I guess it shouldn’t have been a big surprise.

So the String Bean Kid decided to kick things up a notch. He started tossing slices. He was throwing toward the water and a slew of birds flocked toward the greasy slice of goopy cardboard he’d pitched. Since his splotchy face closely resembled his flying objects, he had to try harder to impress the girls who were busy reading their US Weeklys. What would he do?

Their group was about 75 feet away from us, parallel to the water. A few birds had landed between our blanket and theirs and were gnawing on some crust when String Bean decided to offer them another slice. So he reeled back and with all his might threw the slice toward them. He must have had a burst of adrenaline as the slice way overshot the birds and landed about 2 feet from me, right on my blanket.

Needless to say, I wasn’t thrilled. The teens all saw what happened. I think their first thought was “is this guy going to be cool or what?” The correct answer was “or what”.

I stared at String Bean who was frozen among his friends. I stood from my lounge chair, which is hard to look cool while doing, and sternly told him to come over. He started moving in my direction, but appeared to be taking his time, to show off for his friends. I told him that he better start running. His Marinara-face turned Alfredo-white as he moved double speed to my blanket, not sure what was going to happen when he arrived.
 
I ordered him to clean up his mess. His voice cracked as he nervously apologized. I think the fact that I was more than double his size and age may have caused him to wet himself. Fortunately he was wearing a bathing suit which provided good water retention.

My gaze turned back to his group. I saw his friends laughing at him as he moped back toward them.  His fantasy of impressing the girls likely squelched for that day. I smirked to myself, before a realization hit me. In an instant I had turned into every grumpy old man from every movie ever. All this time I’ve thought I was a fun young Dude. But today I became the Old Man at the Sea.  




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Monday, January 2, 2012

New Year & Six Months

As the beginning of the last year of civilization begins (at least according to the Mayans. And my friend Maya), I guess we have a lot to get through in these next 11+ months. I still haven't even seen Moneyball.

2011 was a very up and down year for me personally, but I guess that's how they all go for most people who aren't George Clooney. As the calendar turns, though, I'd be remiss if I didn't reflect on the last 6 months writing this blog.  What started as a suggestion from my friend Karen has turned into something way beyond anything I ever imagined when I sat down at the computer on July 4th while my son napped. 

I had some random ideas bouncing around the right side of my brain, which I hadn't used much in the last few years. I am thankful for each and every one of you who has taken the time to read my posts, comment on them or share them with friends. I appreciate the emails you send me and Tweets you RT.  Without you, this site would just be me talking to myself. And I already do enough of that as it is. So thank you. 

As many people do this time of year, I've been reflecting on the year that passed. As I've been reviewing Dude of the House, I wanted to spotlight a few of my favorite blog moments from the last 6 months. If you've read these before, check them out again. They get better with age, like a fine wine or Betty White. 

My Favorite Post:    Poo On You  I just think it's pretty funny. Several of you have said the same. 

Most Autobiographical Post:  What a Long Strange Trip It's Been How I got to be where I am today. Wherever that is.

Most Popular Post:  From Deadhead to Elmo Addict Growing up is hard to do. 

Most Commented On Post:   Your Name is What??  People are dumb. 

Most Egoecentric Post: My Mini-me It's true, he looks like me. Check the picture. 

Most Educational Post:  What is a Dude?  If you think you know, you probably don't.

Most Serious Post:  9/11: A New Hope  A shiny silver lining. 

Scariest Post:  Lost at the Zoo  It was a freaky experience and it wasn't even my kid. 

First Post: Independence Day Means I'm Free to Work on This First, but certainly not my best.

Most Disney filled Post: Small World? Yeah Right I'm glad the tickets were free.

I love all of my posts. Even a few lame ones I've ignored since posting. But check them out and leave a comment if you feel like it. And click the ads on the right. Google just might send me a nickel if you do and that will really help pay for pre-school. When the Little Dude turns 34. 


Thank you again for your support. Best wishes for a happy and healthy new year!


Me & the Little Dude





Thursday, December 1, 2011

Poo on You

When I went in to BC’s room this morning to get him out of his crib, he was playing with the toys in his bed and having a good time. Suddenly he looked up at me, then pointed down to his central diaper region and made a proud declaration: “POO!”

Since we haven’t officially begun potty training him, I took it as a good sign. According to research, kids are usually ready to begin the potty training process sometime between 24-36 months. Since BC just turned 2 it’s probably time for us to start preparing for the fun.  I think the first step is I’m supposed to save my newspapers and line the floor of the house with them, right?  Obviously I’m kidding.  Who gets the newspaper anymore?

We got BC one of those little plastic training toilets a few months ago after a friend suggested it and put it in the bathroom next to my Big Boy potty.  This placement was supposed to subliminally teach the Little Dude what the potty is intended for. Unfortunately the main thing he seems to think it’s used for is a place to lounge while unspooling rolls of toilet paper.  

Our son’s pediatrician said my wife and I should leave the door open to let BC watch us go to the bathroom so he can see what all the hype is about. It seems strange that I’m supposed to talk the bathroom up to him as though it’s a great place, like Disneyland or something.  Then I lead him into a place with a grimy commode, a wet floor and some weird green stuff lingering on the sink.  Seems more like Magic Mountain to me.

When we are in a public place I usually take BC with me to the bathroom because I don’t feel comfortable leaving him with the weird old man who greets people at the store entrance. What inevitably ends up happening is I try to keep my balance and complete my mission while he simultaneously watches me and plays a game of chicken with his finger and the nearby urinal cake.

Before a recent trip, my wife went to buy some overnight diapers.  Apparently the store had run out of our usual brand so she got some pull-up style overnight diapers.  Since we were leaving the next day, we had no other option.  At least they had Lightning McQueen on them. Whatever that is.

The pull-ups worked out fine, especially since BC now refuses to lie down while being changed. I guess when your body is longer than your changing table, you can elect that option.  These days he generally wiggles and dances while being changed and I end up pulling the flaps on his diaper shut, hoping I got full coverage on both essential regions and praying for no whammies. 


So back to this morning, I was happy that he was able to convey his crucial message and hoped he hadn’t slept in it for too long, causing a mess and making him resemble Augustus Gloop after he’d fallen in the chocolate river. 


I was still half asleep when I opened his diaper to find that it was wet, but that was the only damage done.  So I looked at him and inquired about his apparently false claim. He looked back at me and reiterated forcefully “Pooh! Pooh!”  So I figured he was just being the boy who cried wolf and so I told him that the next time he said “Poo!” and didn’t possess any, I’d make him sit in it for a while as a lesson.

Then as I got him dressed and looked down at his used diaper waiting to be thrown out, it suddenly hit me. No, not the smell.  The image of Winnie the Pooh lounging next to his pal Tigger on BC’s used Huggie. Not pictured: me with egg on my face.





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--JJ aka The Dude of the House




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Monday, October 17, 2011

Small World? Yeah Right

A friend recently gave us tickets to take BC to Disneyland for the first time.  My wife had been very excited about his first time and wanted to make it special. As a SoCal native, going to Disneyland was an almost-annual rite of passage to her while growing up.  This trip would mark my third time there over the course of more than 3 decades.  I was happy to go, but I was more excited to not have to blow $200 just to walk in the front gate. 

The tickets we received were for a special Halloween event at the park.  I wouldn’t realize how fortuitous that was until later, though. But before we got to the good stuff there was a long road ahead.  Our tickets didn’t allow us to enter prior to 3:00pm, and the festivities began at 6:00pm. The catch was that BC usually naps in the afternoon from roughly 2:00-5:00pm.  We faced an interesting conundrum. If we waited until after his nap to leave our house we wouldn’t arrive at the Magic Kingdom until at least 7:00pm, which wouldn’t leave much time for the park.  But if we didn’t give BC a chance to nap, it was possible he might turn into Regan from The Exorcist.  

We took a leap of faith and left the house during what would have been BC’s naptime, hoping he would sleep during the 60 mile drive. He was about to fall asleep after 15 minutes when some putz cut us off, forcing me to slam on the brakes, which jolted BC back to life like Elmo on Meth.  Sigh. I had a feeling it was going to be a long day.  He finally fell asleep for the last half hour before we arrived in Anaheim.

When we parked and got out of the car, we were in an unfamiliar place.  And I don’t mean the parking garage the size of New Hampshire.  BC had taken the short road to Crankyville. Uh oh.  Would that short nap end up biting us in the Goofy? Only time would tell. 


Time spoke quickly. When we got on the tram to the park there was one child who stood out among all the kids on the train, screaming his brains out. Yup, my kid was “That Kid”.  I was put in an unfamiliar situation  because I’m usually the first person to give That Kid’s parents dirty looks while they scream in a restaurant or mall.  There was only one thing I could do in this scenario. Pull down my hat and hide. And try to spot another “That Kid” whose parents I could berate with my eyes.

My last visit to Disneyville was for SS’s birthday 8 years ago. She’d been there countless times so I let her lead the way.  We headed straight for It’s a Small World.  Once we sat in our little boat, BC’s eyes seemed to light up as he assessed his surroundings.  Suddenly we began to move as the song began to play over and over. And over and over.  The world didn’t seem so small after listening to that song for 15 minutes.  After I minute or two though, I had déjà vu of having been there before. My mother took us to Disneyland when I was a toddler and as I sat with my son in my lap, I flashed back to the moment I first rode that ride.  So much seemed familiar, and not just the song, though I don’t remember seeing Woody from “Toy Story”  there the first time around, circa 1979. Not sure why though.  


Since BC is still a little Dude our selection of rides was somewhat limited. We took him on Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride, Alice in Wonderland and a few others.  The principle is pretty much the same for all: Get in a too-small vehicle for our group, get jerked around in the dark, see some scary looking creatures in bright colorful outfits and exit leaving semi-nauseated.  Sort of reminded me of prom night.

One cool thing about the Halloween event was that they had trick or treat stations scattered around the park.  I expected it to be a crappy mix of apples and pennies, so I was pleasantly surprised when it was the real deal.  And they weren’t stingy. But for some reason I kept getting the repulsive Almond Joy, until I started saying “Twix or Treat” to the workers.  Each station also had a healthy option for kids, like Craisins or carrots.  Because that’s what kids really want.  

As we waited in lines throughout the park I felt something I hadn’t felt in years. No, not joy.  Thin. If you ever want to feel good about your body image, go to Disneyland. Unless you are the size of Dumbo, there are thousands of people there who will make you feel svelte. I kept looking for Jillian Michaels & Bob Harper because it seemed like I was at a tryout for The Biggest Loser. 


As the evening progressed, we were having a great time. Other than his overtired outburst on the tram, BC was perfect all afternoon. And he was rewarded accordingly. Of his own volition. It only took BC 4 seconds to grab & unwrap a Banana Tootsie Pop from our Treat bag, though it took him half an hour to devour it and drip slimy banana goop all over his shirt.  

On our way out, we wanted BC to have a memento of the day, so we sought a pair of Mickey ears. After locating and trying them on, we settled on the adult size which was a hair too big for his melon and curls. Since he’s almost 2, I bet he’ll grow into it. Or we can just let his ‘fro expand accordingly.  

All in all, it was a fantastic day. We were able to crank through the park in 5 hours and avoided traffic both ways. And most importantly, BC had a blast. Actually, most importantly, BC fell asleep on the way home and slept till 8:00 the next morning.  And I figure that based on my established pace, I’ll look forward to going back to Disneyland sometime around 2033.


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--JJ aka The Dude of the House





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