On Saturday Jason and I woke up early-ish to meet our teammates for a trail run over at Cougar Mountain. It was a nice sunny morning that gave way to thick fog and decreased temperatures as we puttered across I-90 to the park entrance, but by the time we arrived it was sunny again (albeit a bit humid). You gotta love Seattle and its schizophrenic weather. I had only done the Cougar Mountain trail workout once before and I was a lot chunkier and slower, so I was looking forward to attacking the trails in my leaner, meaner state. The last time I did the run, I wheezed my way up the hills feeling miserable and bloated. I don’t have a picture of myself from Saturday’s workout, but I estimate that I’m about 14 lbs lighter and considerably faster than I was in the above chunkeriffic photo. Hooray for eating like a normal human being for a change! We waited for our squadron of teammates to arrive, and I figured I’d have plenty of peeps to run with. My hopes were dashed when five people showed up: Tom, who just did Ironman Canada and wouldn’t be taking the workout seriously Amanda, who also just did Ironman Canada and also gave zero shits about the workout Brent, who has qualified for the Boston Marathon Coach Bridget, who is much faster than me Coach Kim, who is much much much faster than me Awesome, so that leaves the fast group (Kim, Bridget, Jason, Brent), the “We just did an Ironman so fuck you” group (Tom, Amanda), and me, the cheese, left to run by herself yet again. I’ve either got to get a hell of a lot faster or just give up and sandbag it from now on, because this middle of the pack nonsense is getting pretty lonely. Before we got started, Bridget inexplicably thought it would be a good idea to attach her $400 Garmin watch to her dog’s collar to see how fast and far her pooch would travel during the workout. We didn’t think it was the smartest idea considering Zoe started chasing the watch’s reflection across the parking lot as soon as Bridget strapped it onto her collar, but Bridget’s gonna do what Bridget’s gonna do. And thus we took off. Almost immediately we settled into Fast Group, the Mediocre Athlete Team of One, and the Ironcouple. Zoe shot off like a rocket, weaving in and out of the woods and crashing through trees like a sasquatch on angel dust. We had been running for less than ten minutes when the dog returned to Bridget, panting happily. I heard a loud “MOTHER FUCKER” and immediately knew the cause of said expletive. By the time I caught up to Fast Group, the look on Coach B’s face pretty obviously identified the problem: Zoe lost the Garmin watch. Surprise! Bridget left Fast Group to try and find her watch, so they took off without her while I chased them to no avail. Pretty soon they dropped me like I was a holiday flavored gel (seriously, mint chocolate? Eggnog? Nobody likes that shit) and I found myself alone on the trail. My run felt really good and I stayed steady and strong, albeit ridiculously sweaty as I trudged through the thick, humid air. At one point a guy and his buddy passed me twice going the same direction, causing me to double-take and say, “Didn’t I just see you guys?” the second time we crossed paths. Either there was a glitch in the Matrix or those dudes were lost. The run went tons better than the first time I...

A couple days ago I had a hill repeat run workout scheduled in glorious 83 degree heat. My hamstrings were already screaming at me from a tough week of strength training so I wasn’t really looking forward to the run, but I knew it needed to get logged so I HTFU’d and pulled on my running shoes. After a 15 minute warm up that consisted of the shortest strides ever thanks to too-tight legs, I made it to the bottom of the hill I would climb six times. Jason had a hill repeat run too, only he had eight climbs because he’s more beastly than I am. We both started at the Volunteer Park Cafe on Galer in Capitol Hill and would run from there up a steep 200 meters until we reached the entrance to Volunteer Park, then we’d turn around and jog back down. The hill is somewhat crappy — it’s a steady climb for most of the way up and then has a nice and shitty steep finish. My hamstrings actually felt less sore when I climbed so the repeats actually weren’t too bad. I was running up the sidewalk during my last repeat when I glanced across the street and noticed two absolutely stupid looking Boston terriers running up the sidewalk too. A mild wave of annoyance crossed through me as I thought the owner was probably behind the dogs and had let them off the leash like a douchebag. When I got to the top of the hill, I turned around to descend but saw nobody in sight. At this point the dogs had reached the top of the hill and were darting all over the place in a spazzy little frenzy. Some random dude who looked like Wilford Brimley emerged from the park, saw the terriers, and exclaimed, “Well where did you two come from?” He fended off oncoming cars while trying to shoo the dogs out of harm’s way. The terriers turned around and started shooting back down the hill. By now Jason had realized that I was more interested in the dogs than in doing my cooldown, so he looked on in annoyance while I tried to flag the dogs down. He and I are mostly compatible with a few exceptions: He hates when I make hard-boiled eggs or eat tuna fish because they’re stinky I get annoyed every time he washes his face and flings water all over the bathroom mirror He’s not a big “pet person” Regarding #3, Jason and I are like the Sharks and the Jets from West Side Story. I grew up with a plethora of animals — since childhood, I’ve had a pet hamster, a bunny, a guinea pig, a cat (pre-allergies), and a wild assortment of dogs I’ve loved (my brother’s beagle) and loathed (two stupid, high maintenance chows). He, on the other hand, grew up in a pet-free home, so he’s never had much interaction with furry critters and is therefore pretty “meh” about them in general. I want to get a dog but he’s very eye-rolling about the matter. Since we’re at a standstill regarding bringing a dog into the household, I have to get my doggy fix with random pooches I come across. Okay, back to the Boston terriers. The big one shot down the hill on the other side of the street but the little one started to run towards me. I clapped my hands and coaxed it over, then spent a few minutes chasing it around until I managed to half-tackle the damn thing (I should have logged the extra time and distance with the rest of my workout...

I sent this email to K-Swiss in hopes that they’ll respond and help an Asian out: Dear K-Swiss, I’m a big fan of your products — I have numerous pairs of K-Swiss shoes and my triathlon team (TN Multisports) receives a nice discount on some K-Swiss merchandise. However, I’ve got a bit of a bone to pick with you. Last August I was in Penticton to race Ironman Canada, and while I was there I saw a K-Swiss display that featured a number of pairs of K-Ona S shoes. One of the pairs featured a glorious design incorporating the Korean flag. They were pretty awesome, but you already know that because why else would you turn a less-than-awesome design into a shoe? That would be crazy talk, which would lead to someone getting their ass fired (maybe that’s why Kenny Powers is in charge now). Unfortunately, since my mind was focused on the race at hand, I didn’t buy them at the time, a decision I ended up regretting because I can’t find these effers anywhere — not on your site, not on the Internet…it’s as if they never existed. But I know they exist because I took a picture of them: I want these shoes on my feet, damnit. I tried to fill the void by buying a different pair of K-Ona S shoes (these bad boys), but my royal blues are no match for that glorious Korean flag. Being half Korean, I gotta represent out there with my stumpy Asian legs and supreme crappiness in the water. I really want a pair of the K-Swiss K-Ona S Korean flag shoes. You guys have Australia, Japan, Germany, USA, and Brazil, but like Christopher Walken and his cowbell, I gotta have my Korean kicks. Are they available at all? If so, can you hook a half Asian sista up with a pair (women’s size 8.5)? Thank you, Rebecca Kelley (aka the “Mediocre Athlete”) P.S. Why don’t you offer awesome Korean swag like this in women’s sizes? I love this shirt but would look absurd in a men’s size small. Show Koreans some love,...

…okay, they’re not as strange as the Seinfeld strength shoe, but they’re not too far off. Anyway, when I raced the Mount Rainier duathlon in May, I won a free pair of Scott running shoes (not because I won my age group, but because they always give out random free stuff to the athletes and I just happened to get lucky). I only had a few pairs to choose from, but one shoe, the T2, stood out because it was described as the “ultimate triathlete shoe.” I wasn’t really planning on racing in them but figured they’d be worth a try because to me they looked similar to my Zoot racing flats that are in sore need of replacement. So I ordered a pair and promptly forgot about them… …until the FedEx dude knocked on my door today and dropped off a package for me. Oh right, my free shoes! Yaay, free shoes free shoes free shoes. Who doesn’t love getting a new pair of kicks? I unwrapped the package, opened the box…and my brow furrowed. What’s this thingy in the back of the shoe? Is that Velcro? What happens when I — HOLY SHIT THIS SHOE IS INSANE. Here’s a video of a low-level Bond villain explaining how they work, plus some pics of my shoes: The gist of it is that you can pull the entire back of the shoe away from the rest and slip your foot in quickly, then pull the back strap up to tighten it into place and secure it with Velcro. It’s odd, to say the least. I gotta admit though, as weird as these shoes are, they’re actually pretty comfy. The T2 was designed to be super light and come with a few drainage holes and a forefoot strike design. I don’t know if I’ll ever actually race in these (I’ve run into a plethora of running injuries lately and don’t want to risk another one), nor am I sure about how fast you can actually get into them (I’d probably get bungled up trying to tighten them, plus I always thought the Zoot racing flats were plenty fast to get into), but they seem fine for spectating or just hanging around. Plus they were free, so suck...

It’s hard for me to award this dude the Mediocre Athlete of the Week since he was at the top of the pack for a big city marathon and is therefore a pretty bad-ass runner, but he lost the race when he inexplicably took a wrong turn 200 meters from the finish line and headed in the wrong direction.