Throwback to September 27 2014

The days were longer
The sky was blue
The sun was warmer
The beer cold too

We did a race
And even won!
You can see us on the podium

Rounding the corner to start Lap 2

Ditto for Sandi

Finished!

Stopping the watch right away: the sign of a true pro

Yes?

Oh? Me? 2nd place overall?

Top 3 ladies with lederhosen guys

Podium

You're all winners in my eyes and all that

Now go eat those cookies and let someone else win next time!

Chaos ensues

Top people

And a close-up

Special prize for running in a Dirndl

So you won this race too?

Champions

Mr. Rhineheart

Mr. Rhineheart: "You have a problem with authority Mr. Pemulis. You believe that you are special, that somehow the rules do not apply to you. Obviously you are mistaken."

Pemulis: "Did you watch The Matrix last night?"

MR: "Are you questioning my authority?"

P: "No, it's just that what you just said, just there, I think it sounds just like that scene at the start of The Matrix after Neo shows up late to work because he followed the White Rabbit tattoo on that girl's shoulder that showed up at his door with the guy who he was selling that digital tape containing what I guess we're supposed to presume is stolen secrets or something that he illegally obtained through his hacking skills to because his computer woke him up by typing 'wake up Neo' and then told him fairly cryptically to 'follow the white rabbit' and then he ended up at this club and he meets Trinity who hacked the IRS d-base who he had initially thought would have been a guy (most guys do, but I don't think I necessarily would have even given the fact that the technology world is such a sadly and utterly male-dominated industry that statistically speaking Trinity almost had to have been a guy but then Trinity doesn't really sound all that guy-like in my opinion as a Hacker name but whatever) and so he was up late meeting with her so she could tell him that the Matrix is real but she could just as easily have told him that through the computer when they told him to follow the white rabbit but oh well, and so I think we're supposed to be led to believe that that's why he was late to work that morning and anyways the speech that his boss gives him sounds exactly like the speech that you seem to be giving me now, is all."

MR: "So in other words you are questioning my authority."

P: "Not at all! I don't believe that anywhere in my previous soliloquy that I came anywhere near even inferring that your authority is not 100% legitimate and utterly un-requiring of questioning. All I was saying was that I was just like explaining to you why I was curious to know if you had watched The Matrix last night or not which I assumed you were indirectly asking me by suggesting that I might be questioning your authority. You see, I was basically just trying to give a full explanation for why I would have asked the question I had asked that led you to erroneously believe that I might have been questioning your unwavering, in my view, authority. If I hadn't fully explained where I was coming from you might have thought that I was, I dunno, being facetious by ignoring the fact that you were trying to have a serious conversation with me about you thinking that I have a problem with authority -- which I don't believe that I do, by the way, just for the record."

MR: "I don't take kindly to being talked back to Mr. Pemulis. This company is one of the top blogging companies in the world because every single employee understands that they are part of a whole. Thus if an employee has a problem, the company has a problem. The time has come to make a choice, Mr. Pemulis. Either you choose to be at your desk, on time, from this day forward -- or you choose to find yourself another job. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"

P: "Ok, you're messing with me, I get it."

MR: "Excuse me?"

P: "That whole thing you just said there is basically word-for-word from that same scene in The Matrix. You also didn't answer my question on whether or not you'd watched the movie last night. I mean, if you are being serious, then that is a crazy example of subconscious memory asserting itself right there."

MR: "DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?"

P: "Well I hate to have to say this because from your previous comportment in this here conversation I don't think that you're going to like my answer all that much, but no, you are being anything but clear. First, I don't even have a desk and I don't have normal hours such that saying that I need to be there 'on time' doesn't have a whole lot of meaning. I e-mail you my blog posts, you and Mr. Smith do some editing, and sometimes send back some comments, and then we post them. In fact, since you two are kind of the bosses, that whole thing about "an employee having a problem and then the company having a problem etc etc" doesn't make any sense at all because in effect I'm the only employee here. And, no disrespect meant at all because I do believe that we're all in this together, but we are clearly nowhere even close to being one of the top blogging companies in the world. I think our page rank is too small to even be calculated. We post maybe 40 articles a year and in our entire history we've had 5,000 views of which probably more than half are me, you two guys, and my parents."

MR: "And that's exactly the problem that I'm trying to address in this meeting here this morning. You've submitted only a single post this entire year so far and here we are on the 21st of January. At this rate, you're on pace for an 18-post 2015 season. That's less than half the number of posts that we churned out last year! And let me just say that the 5 paragraphs you submitted last week didn't exactly set the world on fire; I'm not only concerned about quantity (though that is my primary concern), but quality matters around here too. You know how saturated the market is on that topic? Did you even have anything novel to say? How can we expect to keep our audience happy and clicking and reading away with recycled drivel like that?"

P: "Well I'm sorry Mr. Rhineheart but I've been really busy. I feel like I don't have time to even relax at all at the end of the day when I get home."

MR: "How could that be? You only work 40 hours a week, correct?"

P: "Well yes, around there. But I get home, I try to get a run or something like that in, that takes an hour, then we both have to shower, and Joelle takes about 45 minutes on a really good day. During that time I'm doing some stretches or cleaning up a bit or getting some things ready for dinner. Then I shower, then we make dinner and eat dinner which takes another hour at least. Note also that working eight hours actually takes about 10 because you've got an hour for lunch in there plus you need to get there and back home. Then we have to clean up, do the dishes or whatever, and all of a sudden it's 10:30pm or later. I might have 30 minutes to collect some thoughts but then I need to get ready for bed, brush my teeth, have Joelle ask me 'are you coming to bed?', and then the day is over. It's a nightmare."

MR: "Well millions upon millions of people manage to do it everyday. Maybe you're not being efficient enough?"

P: "Well, that is possible. Today I left work at 10 past 5 so that I could make it home by 5:30. Then I had a snack, put on my running clothes, and had to take the tram and then the U-bahn up to the Olympic Park area for the MRRC hour-threshold run practice. I got there around 6:35 and then had a couple minutes to lock away my keys and what-not, and then we started the warm-up. The run ended around 8:15 and then I was home just before 9. Joelle showered, I made a salad, I showered, she warmed up the pizza from yesterday, and then we ate, and now, with a couple minutes before bed-time, here I am explaining myself to you!"

MR: "Do you think that it makes sense to spend what seems to me like 3.5 hours for what ends up being 60 minutes of running?"

P: "Well, not really. But for some reason all these clubs want to meet in the North or at least more West in the city and here we are down in the South-East."

MR: "You couldn't go for a run by yourself?"

P: "Yes, but we've gotta meet some people, improve our German, be motivated by the group atmosphere, all that, you know?"

MR: "No. If you're complaining about not having enough time don't you think that meeting more people will have the effect of you ending up with even less time? And why do you need to improve your German? You can get by just fine without it."

P: "If you say so."

MR: "But that's beside the point! You say you have no time, but you managed to deliver nearly 40 posts last year; there's got to be something else."

P: "Well I don't really have any ideas anymore. Things were easy back in 2012. Everything was new, everything was different, and it was France. I could write 2,000 words on my first day at work or a quick 1,500-word essay on French cuisine without batting an eye. I could talk about all these great new holidays that I wasn't used to having. There were amazing places so close by and so easy to get to that we could so easily visit and then write about and post pictures from. If I was lacking inspiration a quick look out my window at the towering Alps could get a post kick-started just like that. I had time to read and could discuss the ideas that stood out to me in some great literature. The weather was beautiful so I could go cycling, write about that, or just brag with some pictures from the weather forecast. Our lives were more interesting then. We were preparing for Ironman Sweden and if I didn't have anything to say I could give an update on our training. Things were happening, life was exciting! At first it was like 'hey! I'm in Europe!' and now it's kind of just, hey! I have to go to work and live a normal going-to-work life like everybody else."

MR: "Are you sure you're not just glorifying the past through some kind of revisionist history?"

P: "Hey it's all there on the Blog Mr. Rhineheart. Now there's nothing. It's just: go to work, try to fix things that are broken, break more things, lose more hair, try to stop from getting too fat, get enough sleep so that you're not a zombie. Plus it's the winter right now."

MR: "What does that have to do with anything?"

P: "Well it gets dark at about 5pm. Sure there may be the same number of hours in the day, but it just feels like the day's over so much more quickly. Also it's cold out. Running is miserable, you can't go cycling, and sitting by the river is only for the geese right now."

MR: "What about skiing?"

P: "You're not the first person to suggest it. But then I'd need to buy all the stuff, get someone to drive out there, spend a whole bunch of money, and most importantly be out in the cold all day. Plus I'd miss Saturday swim practice."

MS: "Sorry I'm late."

MR: "No problem Smith."

P: "Wait! This is really confusing. How can Mr. Smith be late for a meeting that doesn't technically even exist? And if he is indeed late, why aren't you giving him the whole Matrix talk you were giving me?"

MS: "I think he might be questioning your authority, Rhiney."

P: "You call him Rhiney?"

MR: "Please don't call me that in front of the employees Smith."

P: "Remember how I just mentioned a few minutes ago that there is only one employee here?"

MS: "Sorry Mr. Rhineheart."

MR: ...

MS: "So where were you two? What did you think of the ads idea Mr. Pemulis?"

P: "What ads idea?"

MS: ???

MR: "I hadn't got to that yet Smith. But thanks for reminding me. So, Mr. Pemulis, we've been in discussions with some people at Vox Media who want to invest in Grenoble WMD. It would allow us to provide more value to our shareholders but would also require you to increase your production rate. The investors are getting nervous, and frankly quite disappointed, with a running 18-per rate so far this year. That's why this discussion is so important."

P: "But what was that about ads?"

MR: "Well the deal is contingent on the site being literally just covered in ads. In fact it will help you because there won't even be that much room left over for text."

P: "Umm....."

MR: "But don't concern yourself with that right now. We'll start doing things like stretching posts across many days, presenting content in parts, 'to be continued' and all that. It doesn't change the fact, however, that we still need some novel stories from you and lately we're just not getting much, if any, of it."

P: "So what do you suggest?"

MR: "I suggest that you get working Mr. Pemulis! What about a story on your Canadian Christmas Vacation? Those have proven to be quite popular in the last several years."

P: "Well I didn't really do much."

MR: "I'm sure you did something noteworthy. You're a smart guy, you can play it up a bit, I'm sure of it."

P: "Nah, really, there's nothing."

MR: "Ok, humor me. Tell me what you did and we'll see if we can brainstorm some story ideas."

P: "Ok. Let's see... Arrived. Was tired. Slept. Drove. Ate. Drank. Slept. Drove. Ate. Drank. Watched TV. Slept. Went to the store. Ate and Drank and Slept. Ate..."

MR: "You're not even trying."

P: "What do you mean? That's really what I did. And besides you didn't even let me finish."

MR: "Forget it. Do you think you'll ever do an Ironman again?"

P: "Why?"

MR: "Maybe it would give you something to write about."

P: "Well it would be nice. In fact there's even a new Ironman France they added this year in addition to the traditional one in Nice. There will be the first inaugural Ironman Vichy at the end of August. It looks amazing because, well, for one, it's in France, and it's right near where we did the Roanne Aquathlon all those blog posts ago. Ya it would be really cool. But we just don't have time for that sort of thing nowadays. I hardly have time to go for a jog, as I said before."

MR: "What about kids?"

P: ...

MR: "A trip to Thailand?"

P: "Would these Vox people fund it?"

MR: "No."

P: "What is Mr. Smith doing?"

MR: "Smith, don't do that in here please."

MS: "Sorry boss."

P: "What were we just discussing?"

MR: "Ideas, topics, avenues for exploration and in-depth thought. Hey I loved that thing on the Grenoble Brûleurs de Loups that you did where the demon wolves like murdered you and your wife or something!"

P: "Umm.... that was inspired by a true story."

MR: "Even better! Why aren't more interesting things like that happening in your life lately?"

MS: "We have ways of arranging such things, Rhin--, I mean, boss, err, Mr. Rhineheart."

MR: "Shut up Smith."

MS: "Sorry Mr. Rhineheart."

MR: "Pemulis, let me get to the point: when can we expect your next post?"

P: "Well I suppose you can expect it as soon as this conversation ends."

MR: "You don't think there will be any kind of epilogue or follow-up or anything along those lines?"

P: "Hey I just realized something! At the end of that scene in The Matrix, when Neo's boss asks Neo if he's made himself perfectly clear, Neo answers 'yes, Mr. Rhineheart'. Isn't it kind of a crazy coincidence that your name happens to match his and that you were repeating all that stuff from that scene in the movie?"

J: "Pemulis! Time for bed!"

Qui est Charlie?

In case you've been living under a rock or say in a Montana cabin in the woods or one of the other few places left out there without access to Internet or TV or radio, around lunchtime on the 7th of January, two brothers named Cherif and Said Kouachi, armed with assault rifles, masked, and dressed all in black, entered the offices of the French satirical magazine Charlie Hebdo and murdered 12 people of which included 8 journalists, a visitor to the magazine, a building caretaker, and two police officers.

According to the BBC and other news sources, and what seems kind of obvious anyways given things that have happened in the past with, for example, that whole thing with the Danish newspaper Jyllands-Posten after they published a series of cartoons that depicted Muhammad, the attack was some kind of retribution for Charlie Hebdo's publishing satirical cartoons that depicted the prophet Muhammad. Witnesses claim they heard the shooters yell "We have avenged the Prophet Muhammad" after carrying out the attack.

In the wake of this attack, the slogan "Je suis Charlie" echoed across the Internet through social media as people declared their support for and belief in freedom of speech. Others argued that, while they clearly don't condone the attack in any way, shape, or form, Charlie Hebdo was stupid to do something just to antagonize people, and weren't they kind of playing with fire so to speak in publishing something that they knew would be frowned upon by millions, and isn't Charlie Hebdo kind of racist for printing what they print? [the answers are "maybe" and "no"].

Pemulis believes in freedom of expression not only because it's a philosophically defensible right, but especially because if he doesn't then he's pretty much just saying that he supports terrorism and saying that is illegal, or at least it should be. Nobody supports terrorism (come on!), and everyone believes in freedom of speech, so because, for example, Algerian foreign minister Ramtane Lamamra couldn't show his support strongly enough in Algeria (where public protests are banned), he had to travel all the way to Paris to participate in the 4 million-strong march for freedom of expression. This is a man who believes in freedom of speech!

And because Pemulis believes so strongly in freedom of speech, he was right there (in spirit) with Ramtane and Angela and François and all the other nearly 4 million in Paris the other day to show that we will not be intimidated and that we forcefully believe in freedom and the freedom to say what we will. He couldn't make it though because there was another protest at the same time that he had already committed to. Apparently Norman Finkelstein was going to give a talk about the Israeli-Palestinian conflict here in Munich. But everyone knows that guy's an anti-semite. Free speech should only be protected if it's true and he's just going to take the Palestinian side. He'll incite a bunch of hatred and we need to prevent that. Right?

The Marathon: I Believe in a better way!

In 490 BC, the bastard [FN1] Athenian Pfeidippides allegedly ran about 40 km non-stop from the battlefield of Marathon all the way to Athens to give word that the Greeks had defeated Persia in the first Persian invasion of Greece, the Battle of Marathon. After making the infamous announcement of victory, Pfeidippides then promptly dropped dead, presumably due to exhaustion. Now, this fable [FN2] is cited as the origin story, if you will [FN3], of the modern marathon: a 42.2 km running race that has become so popular in the last twenty years or so that in 2013, nearly 600,000 people finished one. All of which is a little bit crazy because it seems to me that the key point of the whole story is that Pfeidippides -- who was a professional running courier, by the way -- drops dead from running such a long, and let's face it, kind of insane, distance. So, somebody somewhere was like "hey, apparently there was this guy who was a professional runner and when he ran 40km to deliver a message it was so exhausting that when he got there and delivered the message he immediately fell down and died! let's add a couple of kilometers and turn that into a race that people do for fun!". Then, for some even stranger reason, this masochistic pursuit became so popular that essentially every major city in the Western world (plus China) [FN4] hosts a marathon, the vast majority of which sell out, and selling out consists of having something on the order of 10,000+ people (or even up to 50,000+ people in the NYC and Chicago marathons). Insanity.

Pfeidippides is a bastard because if it weren't for him, I wouldn't have found myself lined up with approximately 12,000 others on the Lungarno G. Pecori Giraldi in Florence at 8:30 AM last Sunday, waiting for a 9:00 or 9:15 (they weren't able to make up their minds in the race literature or website and both times were cited in numerous different places) start, which ultimately ended up being an interesting (but I suppose not so out there by Italian standards) 9:23 AM start-time for the 31st Florence Marathon [FN5]. Ultimately, 8,686 people, including the regular protagonists of this Blog, Sandi and myself, would complete the race at times ranging between 2h09m55s for the winner, and 6h18m02s for the last guy to officially cross the finish line [FN6].

For me, running a marathon is not a pleasurable experience. Nor has it ever been, despite the fact that this was my sixth rodeo [FN7,8]. So, why do I keep doing them? you might be wondering. And that would be an excellent question/wonder. In fact, it's one that I don't exactly have an answer for. In Revolutionary Spain in the summer of 1936, anarchists took over Barcelona. They were finally free from government and rules and they had temporarily achieved exactly what they had allegedly dreamed of and worked for for so long. But within days of the rising, compromise and centralization began. The cinema workers -- the cinemas!! -- elected 18 heads from amongst themselves to lead an organization committee to help keep films playing. Maybe as soon as I finish the marathon and I vow to myself that I will never do that again I realize that if I don't have anything to fight against (the pain, the insanity of voluntarily subjecting myself to the pain, etc.) then I will no longer really be living. Well I doubt that's it, but as I said I have no idea why I keep doing these things: I'm just throwing some ideas out there [FN9].

In addition to not exactly loving the whole marathon running thing, I'm not terribly good at them either. It might be a necessary condition for a professional marathon runner to really enjoy running to even be able to keep doing it as his or her job, but perhaps not; if you're really good at it, then that in and of itself might just be enough to keep you at it. I have no allusions of ever winning, or of ever even coming anywhere close to finishing within a half-hour of the winner. By the time I cross the finish line, the top probably 100 guys have showered, had a hot meal, and might even have boarded a plane home to their respective countries [FN10].

But the realistic hope of winning isn't what keeps 600,000 people running marathons every year. If it were, we'd be living amongst a frighteningly large shit-load of clinically delusional certifiably crazy amateur athletes [FN11]. It's often said that the vast majority of runners are competing "against themselves". First-timers have probably grabbed some random time that seems, for one reason or another, to be attainable for them. Multiple-timers want to beat their previously best time. If you finished in 4 hours and 5 minutes last time, a nice goal might be to beat 4 hours. You get the picture.

My goal was to beat 3 hours and 30 minutes. For the uninitiated, that is not fast. That comes out to a pace of 4m59s per km, or a speed of exactly 12.06 km/h. The winners run nearly twice as fast, at around 3 minutes per km, and to be considered a respectable runner, you should probably be finishing the marathon somewhere under 3h10m, for a pace of 4m30s per. So, my goal -- which, to spare you the suspense, was not achieved -- was already not all that ambitious or impressive. My previous marathon time, from the spring of 2013, was 3h36m which, for me, was not really all that bad: 918th out of 2456 runners. Fair enough. The issue, though, was that, as is normally the case, I couldn't sleep the night before. Really. I wasn't unconscious for any epsilons of time during the entire night before the race. I was friggin' exhausted. And so I had a great excuse, really: I did OK, but I would clearly have done WAY better if only I had been able to sleep the night before. But since I can never sleep the night before, it didn't matter, because if it's an unchangeable factor, then it's like saying that I would have ran faster if only my legs were a little longer. That may be true, but it's not going to be changing any time soon. Same thing for sleeping the night before, or so all the previous data had told me. Until Florence...

Things weren't looking great on the sleeping front to begin with. Our hotel was conveniently located only about a 5 minute jog from the starting line, but it was on a very loud street. We arrived in Florence on Friday night, and all night long from our room we could hear very loud cars, trucks, ambulances, police cars, and especially motorbikes. I resigned myself to another sleep-deprived marathon, and moved on in life. But then something strange happened. While I didn't sleep eight hours or anything crazy like that, I got up on Sunday morning having slept at least half the night! I would estimate at least four hours, maybe five. I felt fine, not very tired at all. Confident, even. We had our breakfast in the B&B kitchen while chatting to a friendly young man who had made his way to Florence from Slovakia for the race [FN12], and set off down the street to the starting line.

We did some light jogging to warm-up, and we stood in the starting area waiting for the race to begin. Things were still fine. The race finally started, and it wasn't exactly a great start. There were just too many people everywhere and it was impossible to go the speed you wanted. I tried to get to the outside, and after the first kilometre I was already a full minute behind my goal (upper-bound) pace of 4:59. No matter, however. I kept to the side and upped the effort level just a little bit to start making up time. I saw the blue balloons of the 3h30 pace group just ahead in the distance, and I congratulated myself on the discipline that I was about to display by not getting nervous and speeding up too much to try to catch them right away. I was going to go just a little faster, slowly gaining on them km by km, until perhaps around the half-way point I would catch them and could then slow down a touch into an easier pace. This strategy started off rather well. My second km took 4:54. My third was 4:46. A touch too fast. The fourth was 4:57, and then 4:56. Then I rattled off a 4:49, 4:57, 4:57, 4:51, 4:54, 5:02, 4:55, 4:54, 4:57, 5:03, 4:53, and 4:54. For those keeping score at home, that means that after 17 km I had been running for 1h24m33s, which means I was 27s ahead of my goal time. I had made up for all the disastrousness of the first crowded km, and I was cruising. Or at least the statistics might have suggested as much...

You see, for the previous several km's leading up to 17, I was experiencing some grave discomfort. Not so much in the heels, calves, glutes, or shins, but in the umm... digestive area? I really needed a bathroom and I needed one fast. I don't think that we require any more details than that I did eventually come upon one between km's 17 and 18, and immediately felt a lot better. My next km came in at 6:02 which actually isn't that bad. An entire bathroom break only took a minute away from that km. Fine. I was then 35 seconds behind schedule which is way less than the minute I found myself behind after only the first km. My next two kilometers were right back on track at 4:56 and 4:51. I then reached the half-way mark: the 1/2 marathon point in the race.

Reaching the half-way point normally does one of two things to you: either (1) you gain some confidence because you've made it to the half-way point; or (2) you lose all confidence that you previously had because you've only made it to the half-way point which means that everything that you've just done you have to do all over again. This time, for me, it was fully the latter. And let me be clear here that the slow start and the short call from nature are not excuses. These are natural, even common, things that pop up on race day and you deal with. What happened was, as with everyone and with every race, I started to feel a lot of pain. The problem was, I was in no mood to be dealing with it.

The more pain I felt, the more I slowed down. As I slowed down, the pain continued, and I got even more wimpy and even less determined. There were water stations every 5km along the course, and starting at 25km, I began to walk during the water stations. That is never a good sign. Now, in theory I could have kept running through the water stations. But I was tired and I was in pain and I just wasn't very tough that day. A big wimpy wimp. And so, I drank my water and my sport drink ("Sali" they call it), and I walked. And then I jogged another 5 km, and did the same thing. I even walked for about a minute at the 40km water station with only 2 more k to go and according to the race statistics let 300 people in my age group pass me (up until that point my age-group position had been steadily increasing with each water station [FN13]). I just didn't care. My legs hurt and I was tired and I wasn't tough. When I finally lumbered across the finish line in shame, the time on my watch read 3 hours, 42 minutes. Or, a full 12 minutes slower than my upper-bound goal. 

So why did I do it? Why? Post-race analysis. It's all about looking back and analyzing and seeing what could have been and what happened where, etc. That's what races are all about!

Oh, and how did Sandi do? Incredibly. She finished in a time of 3h26m. The 85th female of 1,458. She was not a wimp. But I was.

[FN1] My editorializing, see infra text.
[FN2] The whole thing probably never really happened but I guess you never know.
[FN3] Sort of like Batman Begins or Man of Steel.^a
a Terrible movie, by the way.
[FN4] Imagine trying to run the Beijing marathon... Yikes.
[FN5] Or, as they call it, the Firenze Marathon. Even though the Italian word for Marathon is Maratona. So, they translate the city name but not the race type name. Even more interestingly, many people had made their own shirts (!) for the race and these shirts proclaimed the full Italian translation: Firenze Maratona (even though I think the proper grammar would be Maratona di Firenze).
[FN6] Or as Nike would put it, the 8,685th loser.
[FN7] Not literal "rodeo" but like the saying "this ain't my first rodeo".
[FN8] It was actually my fifth "open" marathon (as the Triathletes call it), but my sixth if you include marathons that are only small components of bigger races like the Ironman.
[FN9] But I suppose it is plausible.
[FN10] Or country. It's usually Kenya.
[FN11] Which isn't to say that we're definitely not, by the way.
[FN12] And who, for some reason, didn't believe me that Germany still has a terrible hockey team.
[FN13] Around each water station they have a timing mat that records your position. This allows you to get detailed timing information for different points throughout the course, and helps to prevent people from cheating.

Christmas is coming

This year, in a few days from now, Germany will be the home to one hundred and twelve thousand six-hundred and ninety-seven Weihnachtsmärkte and Christkindlmärkte (Christmas Markets), of which approximately seven thousand are in the final stages of preparation here in Munich [FN1]. Christmas Markets in theory are actually kind of nice. They look like they have a wondrous, magical-like atmosphere where people are having fun while strolling about with friends, shopping for hand-made wooden ornaments, and keeping warm with Glühwein and fried/roasted/boiled German fare. Most of the markets open up on the Friday before the first Sunday of Advent, meaning that the charming (looking) pop-up towns will open their doors to us in just a week's time.

Munich's first Christmas Market dates all the way back to 1310, while the Vienna December Market -- a forerunner to today's Christmas Markets -- is even more ancient with a launch-date of 1294 [FN2]. The CM tradition is billed as an avenue for family and friend get-togethering, relaxation, and living an embodiment of the Christmas Spirit which, not being all that religious and therefore not having all the details, I understand reflects a celebration of the miracle of the birth of a child whose Mother was so good at sticking to her story that not only did her husband believe her, but unwittingly (one presumes) launched a worldwide religion that now counts over two billion partisans. The truth is, however, that the only miraculous thing happening here is the fact that these markets are still going strong seven centuries after their initial creation, and that some people actually seem to genuinely enjoy attending them.

Christmas Markets are crowded. Like really, really, really crowded. I think I've mentioned here, meaning on this Blog, that Bavarians make an impressive brew. Glühwein, on the other hand, is just absolutely and terribly disgusting. You can maybe stomach one on the first weekend for novelty's sake. After that, however, you would have to be one thirsty mo-fo to be ordering seconds. The stench of the abomination of mulled wine floats in the air above the markets, and since there are so many of these markets (see introduction, supra), it makes its way like a Beijing smog cloud throughout the city on an anthropomorphic mission to really just piss me off. The smell is like a very special kind of vomit whose burning acidic composition enters the sinuses and, as my pal Dave Pirner [FN3] once said, nothing attracts a crowd like a crowd, and the same can be directly applied to emesis as anyone who has had the unfortunate luck of being on a plane when one soldier (metaphorically speaking) goes down (commences to spew chunks), you're going to get some kind of snowball-chain-reaction thing going on, and basically that's what the whole Glühwein season makes me feel like.

Christmas Markets are also invariably cold and wet, and being wet -- rather than, say, snowy -- they feel even colder than they would be if it were in actual fact colder and therefore cold enough so that the rain could become snow and things wouldn't be as wet and therefore not feel nearly as cold (even though it would be colder). Now, this is of course not the Christmas Markets' fault in any way, but since December in Germany doesn't regularly get cold enough to snow (but does get cold enough to be miserable), an activity that encourages/requires you to come stand around outside during a time of year that, on average, experiences these temperatures can, in fact, be faulted for those same meteorological conditions, even though the CM itself has no direct control over same.

The next problem I have with the Christmas Markets is another one related to nausea, and this time it's not with what you drink, but with what you eat. All Christmas Markets have perfected the art of food preparation where the food looks and smells just fine, but after a few bites, all basically goes to hell. You see, these unfailingly-deep-fried delicacies that include oil-drenched Käse Spätzle with Sauerkraut, fried dough covered in apple sauce, and of course -- remember this is Germany -- all manner of Wurst, start off tasting just fine. Then, before you're any the wiser, a chain reaction seems to set off within the depths of the intestine that causes a number of things to occur, including: (1) you not wanting to have anything to do with even the mere thought of taking another bite; (2) headaches, indigestion, irritable bowel syndrome, &c.; (3) swearing to never order food at another Christmas Market ever again, so help me God.

Finally, there is the matter of the trinkets which is I suppose what puts the "Market" in Christmas Market, and so clearly form an important part of the whole venture. The principal problems here are really two-fold. First, you think to yourself, you know what? I'm going to go down to the local Christmas Market (remember there really are thousands and so there's always a local one) and pick up some gifts. The problem is that it's mostly junk. I use the term trinkets very deliberately as trinkets is the most apt description for most of what's being sold. Wooden dolls, cheap toques, paper lanterns, Coca Cola place mats, bead necklaces, and religious novelties of all kinds. Some things I guess are kind of neat (once) like the Christmas Pyramids and the smoking incense doll things, but then of that small subset of items, we lead to the second half of that two-fold problem I mentioned earlier: it's still all junk! The stands give off the aura of hand-made, local-made, German-craftsmanship, but turn over a wooden whirlygig candle-powered windmill machine "painted by an artisanal hand-crafting German painter" or some such thing, and you'll see the "MADE IN GERMANY" sticker just covering up the smaller "MADE IN CHINA" stamp beneath. These stands are for one thing, and for one thing only: ripping off tourists! [FN4]

Despite all this, however, there is one good thing about Christmas Markets: it means that Christmas is coming. And that, in turn, means several other things, including: (1) some de minimis amount of time off of work, or if you're really lucky, something on the order of three weeks away from it; and (2) soon, the Christmas Markets will go away for another year.

Bah humbug! [FN5].


[FN1] All cited statistics are estimations on the part of the author.
[FN2] Wikipedia.
[FN3] Who turned 50 this year, by the way [FN3.1].
[FN3.1] And on the topic of Soul Asylum in general, did you know that they released a new album about a year and a half back?; "In 2012, Soul Asylum are pretty much off everyone's radar and they're back to recording for a small indie label, so it makes a certain sense that Delayed Reaction is their best album in ages." How about that?
[FN4] So beware.
[FN5] I actually really love Christmas time including being with family, the joy of giving and receiving gifts, delicious food and drink (not from German Christmas Markets), including Booze Soup (TM), Christmas parties that are basically just a concentrated form of the previous points, and a whole bunch of other stuff. But I thought that the "Bam humbug!" fit nicely at the end of this here little rant. Frohe Weihnachten!!!

Past while recap

Dear Long Suffering Readers: first, I apologize that you have been deprived of Pemulis, gastronomic photography, and other indiscriminate musings on European Life for so long. I personally would like to blame the always-present need for pencil-pushing -- aka work -- for getting in the way of the growing of this creative outlet. It really drains your vital mind power throughout the day and then, when you get home at the end of it all (for one more day), one just doesn't exactly have the gumption to take a seat and start piecing together witty words and phrases for the consumption of the Internets-at-large. That being said, here I am to entertain you all in a 'past while recap' so that you may feel safe and secure in the knowledge that you are up to snuff, as one might put it, on the current machinations of the protagonists of this blog's lives.

Galopprennbahn München Riem

Two Saturdays ago, we attended the Pastorius horse race here in Munich -- the biggest purse (155,000 euros) in Bavaria. There were 5 races throughout the afternoon, culminating in the grand Pastorius. I used my PhD-level knowledge of statistics to devise an unbeatable system. It is in the process of running through the EC patent system and I can therefore not disclose its particulars at this time, but the general idea is to bet on a horse that has no statistical snowball's chance in hell of winning as otherwise you don't really win any money. Overall, we spent a whopping 5 euros each (1 euro per race) but were quickly up to an astonishing 30+ euros by the final race thanks to decisive picks by yours truly and our entourage. With a 1 euro bet on my favourite horse "Pennyking", we were up more than 14 euros!

By the final race, we were feeling confident. We had won money on 3 out of 4 races; we were sizzling! So naturally we bet it all on the final race on a horse that had odds of 34 to 1. If that horse won we would be heading home with over a thousand euros!!! But he didn't win... Oh well...

Deutschland Cup 2014

This past weekend we attended our second Deutschland Cup (see http://grenoblewmd.blogspot.com/2013/11/munchen.html for last year's version). This time the participating teams were Slovakia, Switzerland, Germany, and Canada! These aren't just any Canadian hockey players though. In fact, Yahoo! Sports (and apparently most of the North American media that happened to cover it) call them "Euro-Canadians" as these are players who play in the Euro leagues such as in Switzerland or Germany.

The game we went to was on Sunday afternoon and was the final game of the tournament: Germany vs. Canada. The tournament format is round-robin and the team with the best record wins. We were purposely ignorant to the meaning of the game that we attended as it might have had no meaning taking all the fun away. Luckily for us, we attended the only game that Canada actually won. Germany was holding a 2-0 lead after the first period, but Team Canada stormed back to win with a final score of 4-2. Unfortunately, however, since that was the only game that Canada won they finished last. Team Germany were the big winners this year, but it was nice to see Canada squeeze out the win!

Running

Three weeks to go until the Florence Marathon. That means we get to start running a little bit less (until the actual day of the race when we'll have to run a whole lot). This past Sunday was a 30km run that we were supposed to do in under 2h30m. It was also supposed to be fairly easy since we should be going the same exact speed in the race but for an extra 12km / 1 hour. Ouch! Man that was hard. I don't think I'm in the right shape to do a 3h30m marathon this time, but I guess we shall see.

Goodbye and thanks for reading. Until next time...

The origins of Pemulis

https://nplusonemag.com/online-only/online-only/posthumous-gratitude/