How cold is too cold...

…to go running?  That is a question I will surely be answering over the next few months and one I thought I might have shed some light on today, as when I awoke this morning it was a frosty 21°F/-6°C outside. By the time I set off at noon, the temperature had fortunately risen to a more bearable 28°F/-2°C and with the sun shining and the wind minimal, my run to the library and back actually began rather pleasantly.

I arrived at the library feeling good – I would just grab the DVD of The Sting and run briskly home to complete a nice 4.5 mile run. But I had made a mistake. I thought the library opened at noon on Sundays, but at 12.30 I found the door locked and remembered that it actually opens at 1.00. I assessed my options: I didn’t want to just run home, as after such an effort to get there I wasn’t going to return empty handed and moreover I had planned to watch the movie tonight. It was too cold to just wander around for thirty minutes. I couldn’t while away the time in a coffee or sandwich shop as I had no money and the usual place I would call upon when I needed to kill time in the city was the very place I was waiting to open! I had no choice but to keep running and went on to the planetarium. I ended up running almost 8.5 miles.

In response to the titular question, 28°F/-2°C is certainly not too cold to go running. My muscles felt fine, I sweated considerably, and my initially cold face warmed up after a mile or so. Furthermore, I can pile on more layers when the temperature plummets further. Today I was kitted out in a woolly hat, long sleeved under armor, a long sleeved top, gloves, sweatpants, and tennis socks pulled up to the knee.

I witnessed just ten other runners over the course of my long journey, despite travelling a considerable distance along the Lakeshore Trail. I found this quite bemusing, as around lunchtime on a Sunday in the summer months, that section of the Trail is teeming with joggers like seagulls around a dropped ice cream cone. I of course understand that running is more enjoyable under a warm sun than in the cold. However, ever since I touched down in Chicago I have been issued warnings such as “just you wait until the winter” and “oh it is colder here than in Boston” by Windy City residents who seemingly consider themselves to be some kind of Midwestern eskimo with all the resilience of Ernie Shackleton. Where were all these winter folk now? Too cold to go running eh?

I thoroughly enjoyed my chilly run to the planetarium

As this is the last post of 2012, I would like to wish all readers a very happy New Year. I hope you will continue to follow my sporting meanderings in 2013, as I continue to make strides in the world of causeless athletics. 

The Bulls vs The Glovers

On Tuesday night I was at the United Center to witness the Chicago Bulls take on the Boston Celtics. It was both my first NBA game and my first Chicago sports game and it was quite a cultural experience for me. Back in Somerset my sports team is Yeovil Town FC, aka ‘The Glovers’, and their football games could not be more different to the Bulls’ basketball games. In this blog post, I will compare and contrast the United Center, home of the Bulls, with Huish Park, home of the Glovers.

The United Center                                                                                  Huish Park

Average attendance

United Center: 21,617

Huish Park: 3,891

Car park price

United Center: $20

Huish Park: £2

Sponsors

United Center: McDonald’s, Lexus, Dunkin’ Donuts, BMO Harris Bank, Budweiser

Huish Park: W & S Recycling Services of Poole, Screwfix, AgustaWestland, Thatchers Gold

Attempts to get the crowd going

United Center: Hired staff wearing McDonald’s shirts holding up signs saying ‘SHOUT!’ and ‘STOMP’, firing t-shirts high into the stands using some kind of cannon, and prompting sections of the crowd to chant ‘Let’s Go Bulls, Let’s Go Bulls’.

Huish Park: A group of teenagers standing behind the goal singing trite football terrace songs, occasionally accompanied by a single trumpeter.

Entertainment for the fans during time-outs (Bulls only) and between halves/quarters

United Center: Drummers, Luvabulls Dancers, Senior Swingers (old and fat dancers), the mascot attempting to score baskets from half-way with his back turned, the KIA Parachute Plunge, giant inflatable Bull floating around the stadium, a Cirques Experience carnie named Wolfgang performing tricks inside a giant wheel, game highlights on the big screen, the McDonald’s Big Mac race, and the Dunkin’ Donuts race  - a race on the hanging screens between an animated coffee cup, donut, and bagel, that guaranteed a third of the crowd a free coffee/donut/bagel (depending on who won) and drew one of the biggest cheers of the night.

Huish Park: An old man methodically reading out the half-time scores from around the grounds. Drawing of the ‘Golden Gamble’ raffle winner. Music from 2004.

Percentage of fans who are female

United Center: 46%

Huish Park: Maybe 3%?

If you want a drink or some food…

United Center: Get it delivered to your seat!

Huish Park: Get it yourself you lazy git!

Likely response to the spectator next to you flailing his arms and swearing profusely at the officials

United Center: Someone texting ‘UCASSIST’ with the row and seat number to 69050.

Huish Park: Others joining in.

High quality sport on display

United Center: Yes

Huish Park: No

The greatest sport on Earth on display

United Center: No

Huish Park: Yes

The giant floating Bull, Wolfgang and his Circus Wheel, the Senior Swingers.

Running With a Purpose

Some might consider running 2.3 miles to the library and 2.3 miles back to withdraw a DVD on a cold, overcast Sunday afternoon a little excessive. Yes I wanted to watch a movie that night, but in the age of Netflix why undertake such a journey?

Firstly, I enjoy running when I have a purpose, a place to go, something to get or someone to visit. Not only does it save time through multi-tasking (exercising and transportation at the same time) and fixes my destination so that I can’t just turn round when I feel like it, it also never fails to induce imagining a city where people have the time and energy to run everywhere, regardless of distance or practicality. The highways would be full of commuters from the suburbs completing a marathon to get to work every day. A journey to a sandwich shop at lunch would be sprinted. Businessmen would be jogging over to important meetings in running attire, briefcases slung over shoulders…

Ok enough of that. The second reason I ran to the library was that I really wanted to watch The Full Monty, which I had placed on hold. I had seen it once before – about ten years ago when I was certainly too young to fully appreciate it, but I loved it then so I was eager to revisit this classic British film. I also picked up a copy of Robert Stevenson’s legendary book Treasure Island and like the DVD it wasn’t too burdensome to run with.

The conclusion to this utterly pointless story, which is hardly even a story, is that the 4.5 mile run was worth it – I got some fresh air and exercise and The Full Monty was simply brilliant, surely one of my favorite films!

The Full Monty was made all the more enjoyable by the
 fact that I had run 4.5 miles on a cold day to retrieve it.

Japandroids

Last night I saw Canadian rock duo Japandroids perform at Metro in Chicago, and it was an incredible show.

Japandroids consists of just a guitarist and a drummer, but they manage to make a huge amount of noise and really do rock very hard. They go gung-ho on their instruments at all times and both members sing, usually simultaneously. While the music is good, it is their lyrics and the spirit and psychology behind the songs that makes them great. Japandroids’ music is all about living life to the max, being young and wild, going out and being adventurous and leaving worries for another day. When the songs contain such positive vides and lyrics like “remember saying things like we’ll sleep when we’re dead”, it is hard to listen without wanting to throw your arms in the air.

Celebration Rock is probably my favorite album of 2012

A few days ago it was looking unlikely that I would be in attendance – the show had sold out and I had nobody to go with anyway. However, I decided to get into the Japandroids spirit and went on my own with a ticket bought on StubHub.

I was proud of my gusto, but I was comfortably outdone by the first person I talked to. Residing in Ann Arbor, Michigan, this chap had boldly decided that in the absence of a Michigan show, the reasonable thing to do was to travel to the Chicago leg of the tour. So at 7.30am this fellow took a five hour train ride to the city, spent the day drinking, went to the show, then planned on staying in a cheap hotel and getting the train all the way back to Ann Arbor in the morning.  Here was a man who was clearly taking Japandroids’ music to heart.

Like myself, the Michigander journeyed to the venue solo, but he was not alone at the concert. Before leaving, he had posted ‘FREE JAPANDROIDS TICKET’ on Craigslist, and five minutes later he had a buddy to enjoy the gig with. The grateful recipient of this free ticket was simply astonished at his new friend’s commitment and although his Thursday night had suddenly got a whole lot more exciting, he didn’t quite share the traveler’s obsession with Japandroids. “I mean, I like them I suppose” he remarked. The money this opportunist had saved on the ticket had clearly gone towards buying alcohol, as evidenced by his disastrous attempt to drink his beer mid-sentence – he didn’t even notice that the brown liquid missed his mouth completely and flew onto his shoulder.

The band themselves were certainly practicing what they preached. The duo had now been on tour for over four months and the manic energy they put into each performance combined with life on the road had undeniably taken its toll. The guitarist made a plea early on for help from the audience with the vocals and the face of the drummer between songs resembled that of a man who had just played five sets against Rafael Nadal on clay. However, they overcome their weariness and played with remarkable intensity. Meanwhile, the crowd was raucous and very sweaty, jumping around, raising arms and singing along to every word like their life depended on it. It was great fun.

Vancouver's Japandroids are a fantastic live act

On the way home my get-up-and-go attitude was one-upped once more. The Craigslist surfer alighted at the same L stop as me, but I was staggering home to bed exhausted and he was going to a 2am showing of The Hobbit. Given that the movie runs for 2 hr 46 mins and he had work at 9am the next morning, perhaps he had too had told himself he’ll sleep when he’s dead.

Football's Coming Home

There is only one thing that can get me out of bed at 8.15 on a weekend morning: football. I had heard from many sources that The Globe Pub was the best place to watch the beautiful game in Chicago and today I finally paid a visit.  

I had to be up bright and early as the time difference meant that the traditional 3pm kickoffs would be commencing at 9am. However, when my alarm sounded I leapt out of bed like a man whose house was on fire, such was my excitement for a morning spent watching Premier League football in a pub. Within seconds of entering The Globe, I knew I would be at home here – a dingily lit room full of men proudly wearing Arsenal shirts nursed beers, eyes glued to the screen and mouths projecting the kind of gruff British voice that is inevitably used to utter some choice words at the referee every Saturday.

The Globe Pub consists of three rooms, each with many screens showing all the Premier League games, but with the sound of one different game in each. Having made our way through the crowded Arsenal v WBA room, my girlfriend (who had sportingly come along) and I settled in the Aston Villa v Stoke room, where I positioned myself carefully with the aim of being able to watch as many games at once as possible.

Football fans take sanctuary in The Globe Pub

The glory and Britishness of this pub was not limited to the sports on TV – the traditional full English breakfast was utterly marvelous and infinitely homely. Baked beans, scrambled eggs, black and white pudding, two slices of toast, potatoes, sausages that hadn’t been crushed into a disk and christened a ‘patty’, and bacon that wasn’t streaks of fat suffocating tiny strips of meat. It was a fantastic way to bring in the day and was followed by a satisfying Estrella Damm beer to accompany the second half of the matches.

I had planned to go on a run today, but my morning diet clearly made this impossible, so instead I took a two-hour nap. In lieu of the run, I completed a ‘lounge workout’ that consisted of lunges, push-ups, sit-ups, tricep dips on the stairs, burpees and so forth in my girlfriend’s living room. Soundtracked by some classic AC/DC, I went customarily balls-to-the-wall and felt rather lightheaded after, possibly a result of the heavy breakfast and morning beer.

It was as good a first-half of a day as I could remember. I think I may have may have found my new Saturday routine. 

The Traditional Breakfast went down rather well