This race is certainly not for the swift; Runnin out of running titles

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Back due to public demand... yes farmgal ... u do qualify as the public, unless of course you'd rather make a private demand:) We are dedicating this post in part to the dearly departed, specifically my cousin's cousin Kariuki, who accidentally passed away recently.... And JOINTly to my dread sistaz in KL... puff puff n pass it on:)

So.... I went to Jersey254 two weekends ago and all I brought back was two bottles of Captain Morgan...

Ok... Last I checked both bottles were unopened.

Anyway, that and the fuddled up memories of good times, good peoples and some damn good nyama choma. No kidding, if you ever find yourself in Paterson NJ, please, do yourself a favor and visit Mt. Kenya Bar & Grill... Well worth the three trips we made there and bounced.. I mean, what the heck! .....and that being a weekend when Kenyans were supposed to be flocking into New Jersey.

Anyway, back to the memories and the good peoples... One people in particular stands out in my memories... probably because I just saw a picture I took of him, very inebriated, telling us about growing up in Kariobangi. Don't quite remember much of the details... actually none if I am to be honest. But I do remember chastising him for wasting my alcohol when each time I poured a generous portion of my Cpt. he would pour half of it (it seemed to me anyway), libation to his ancestors. A total waste of my money, I thought then, considering that chances were his ancestors had never heard of let alone tasted Captain Morgan Rum when they were alive.... I doubted very much they'd have much appreciation of it in their repose.

But not so Mr. Kariuki, in whose memory I was getting ready to drink to the other day when I was accosted by a certain Pastor Joanne. The good pastor was on that particular day leading the prayer service as we got together to mourn our departed brother, uncle, cousin, friend and fellow Kenyan. Kariuki would most certainly understand my not bothering to pour libation to his good memories considering it was on that very cement floor in my dear uncle's kitchen where, forgetting that he was not in his mother's hut in Karatina, he had insisted that we ought to dedicate a portion of our drink to our ancestors and gone on to spill a good portion of his Heineken on the ground..... Let's just say that the only thing that saved his life as the lady of the house came after him with hell's fury, was his slipping on the very drink he'd spilled and nearly killing himself.... perhaps, the ancestors were really looking out for him after all.

Unfortunately, not even the most watchful ancestors could save him from the treacherous roads in Kenya.... A point that I got the feeling Pastor Joanne was kinda driving at but never quite got to in her lengthy sermon. Probably because she got sidetracked and went off on a tangent or two talking about drinking alcohol and smoking cigarettes. I was never quite good in geometry back in school so don't ask me what she said.... I could never follow a tangent let alone two. But I do remember her accusing me of hiding behind the alcohol and suggesting that all I got out of drinking was a fake high. Fake my ass, I wanted to snort out loud... fake or not, I'd prefer it to a low... wouldn't you?

Her premise, I gathered before I got distracted by a cute thing that had just walked into a wake in a mini-skirt.... designed, I'd say, to awaken even the dead... was I ought to give up the alcohol and turn to Jesus.

Now... pray do tell, why should I have to give up one love for the other? I mean, to bastardize our worldly President's favorite phrase, those two are not mutually exclusive now... are they? I raised my hand in objection... prepared to explain to her how my love affair with the Capt has led to my appreciating even more the Love that the Lord has got for me.... It is not rare for me, in a drunken moment, to recall quite distinctly the words to a X-tian hymn that I have not sung in nearly twenty years and bless my fellow drinkers with an off-key version of it.... And more often than not, a kindly fellow while sober, I become overly charitable when inebriated.... ask all those girls to whom I have given my number without them even having to ask...

So there I was enumerating all these pros of drinking alongside the 'For God so loved the World...' ones, and meanwhile the kindly Pastor had moved on from the sermon to the summons and she was now calling out to all those who would like to take a step of faith and accept....

Yeah, at that very moment she was calling out to the sinners amongst us, I had decided that I did indeed have a case to plead and raised my hand.

It took me but a few moments to realize my blunder... well, for luck of a better word anyway.... After all, this wasn't the first time that I had gotten saved, albeit by mistake.... He doth work in mysterious ways after all...and was about to ummm... withdraw my faltering step of faith when I saw the pleased look on the woman's face. Did I mention how charitable I get when inebriated....

Well, I just couldn't bring myself to wipe that look of happiness out of that face... After all, she was rather fetching and who knows, she might have gone on to suggest a private prayer session where we could reminisce on the good old Soul Night days at Carnivore... Yes, she was speaking from a position of ummmm.... knowledge when she spoke about the vices that are alcohol and cigarettes.... I should, perhaps, refer her to Loco's...

So anyway, last Friday, they laid Kariuki to rest.... and this time I spilled a little church wine on the ground... I couldn't afford to waste too much... the good stuff is rather expensive.... and given how much of it it takes to get me drunk.... In fact, the price alone is about to send me running back to the good ol' Capt'n.

Oh! Crap! Forgot I was blogging about my running... Well, after having acquired, via Pastor Joanne's impassioned prayers, faith as big as a mustard seed... I took on the mountains... and my legs are still telling the story... So FG... about that massage....

Running down the dream...

I rolled on as the sky grew dark
I put the pedal down to make some time
Theres something good waitin down this road
Im pickin up whatever is mine

Yeah runnin down a dream
That never would come to me
Workin on a mystery, goin wherever it leads
Im runnin down a dream

Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers - Runnin' down a dream

I stand here... in front of my bathroom mirror... still slightly out of breath. I stare back at the mischievous pair eyes on the other side... and can't help myself as I grin sheepishly and wipe the sweat that's trickled down my forehead and into my my eyes.... I can taste the saltiness as some of it finds its way past my lips into my mouth. That was quite a run... I muse as I contemplate my glistening body bathed in sweat.....

'I feel good...' I feel like yelling. And I'm feeling it too.

The kinda tired, worn out good that one feels after an unexpected session of morning sex.... my favorite kind if you care to know. You know the kind where you roll over after a long night out... and eventual loss of memory.... and, lo and behold, your arm falls upon a soft fleshy mass that can not be your pillow. And before u can say... 'whoa!'... a fleshy thigh reaches over and straddles yours... and you and your morning glory recoil in horror... that is until u ascertain that the thigh is feminine and that the flesh you inadvertently caressed was of the mammary kind.

And then your manly instincts take over, allowing you to slowly wake up to the choreographed rocking of your bodies amid loud bed noises, as the two of you attempt to remake the soundtrack to Sex and the City... but succeed only in annoying the neighbors instead... as they come to to the sounds of you two coming.... Then, exhausted, you both lay back... lost in your own little worlds.... She, amazed that she actually came... and you thinking to yourself... 'wow, this sure beats wanking.." just before you begin to drift back to sleep.... smiling inwardly to yourself... only to be brought out of it by that fleshy thigh that all of a sudden feels much heavier than before...

But I digress, I was telling you about the feeling I'm feeling as I stand in front of my vanity mirror... tiptoeing as I try to see the rest of my body, below the neck, and cursing myself for picking out this tiny mirror when the Landlord rewarded our tenancy with a complete house renovation. It did seem like a grand idea at the time (maybe grand isn't the right word).... didn't care much about seeing my whole self in the unflattering lighting in there... It was bad enough that I was dragging my increasingly out of shape body around every day... I didn't need to see how it looked every morning. Or was it a need to prove my manly lack of vanity? I forget.

Anyway, on tip toes, I can swear the man boobs are flattening out and though the love handles are still prominent... they seem to be taking up a hardness that wasn't there before. The curve of the belly seems to be tapering more... 'Soon...' I console myself... Soon... by the end of this summer even, those abs will be well defined. I let out the air I've been holding and look away, but not before catching a glimpse of the relaxed flesh rolling over the evidence I had just been admiring.. Forlorn, I drag my aching body into the shower and let the hot water drown out the thoughts... the aches and the longings.

Ok... truth is not as entertaining as fiction... so u can mosey over here for an alternate ending.

Tonight was a great night.....

Who coulda known that great food could fill the soul so well? The makers of Soul Food were on to something, that's for sure.

A non-runner.... Training for a marathon

'You can do this, if you want to. the only prerequisite is that you really want to. You don't have to be in shape - you don't even have to like to run. You only have to be willing to make yourself a priority equal to all the others in your life for 16-20 weeks. If you follow the training program as outlined in this book you will finish a marathon! And it will be an experience that will change you forever.'***

Sounds to me like a sales pitch for an MLM program... right? Or perhaps the intro to a self-help book. Perhaps it is that... according to the authors, the program outlined in this book when followed, will not only ensure that I finish a marathon, but that by the time I do so, I will have raised my self esteem too. Now really.... I mean, I have been running for a couple of weeks now, and if what I've felt, the pain not withstanding, at the end of each run and for hours after that is anything to go by, I highly doubt that I'll be able to hold my body up, let alone my self esteem. But that must be one of those voices of self doubt that the authors claim I have to shut out. Mhhmmm!

Anyway, so here I am, bogged down by strained calf muscles and frustration from my inability to breathe in any functional manner after just a half hour of running. The realization that I am not a runner did not come as an epiphany.... noooo... Actually I've known it all along if I should care to look back... I mean, that I once hid in the rafters of my dormitory to avoid running cross-country back in primary school is proof enough that I am not...... And that after four years at Kavau, my required P.E. uniform was still crisply folded at the bottom of my box... still new and unused.

So, why the marathon? One may ask. Actually, I am not sure..... I jumped onto this particular wagon in the same manner that I've pretty much done all the other wagons I've jumped on in the past.... without giving much thought to what the hell it will take. Of course if I had stopped long enough to realize that nanowrimo would demand more from me than a couple of hours a week and that I'd be expected to write 50,000 words.... Wait, I knew all that beforehand. O.k. If, perhaps, I had known exactly how many, 50,000 words really are... Or, if I had known how daunting door to door sales were when I allowed myself to be talked into into selling Cutco knives... Or if I had thought about all I'd be losing by getting into my last relationship, and the one before it, and the one before that other, then maybe I would not have gotten into any of them in the first place.

But I don't have that luxury... of thinking ahead that is. I see a challenge, and I think I am up for it. This is not necessarily a bad thing. Apparently, as a human being, I have this inherrent desire to test my limit.... hmmmhhh! I don't know about that..... in search of how far I can go. And that the avenue of this testing is limited only by my imagination, my fear threshold, and my financial resources. Now, that last one did ring a bell.... I honestly would rather be traveling the world, drinking and dancing my life away... but I lack the resources.... so marathon it is for this non-runner.

***The Non-Runner's Marathon Trainer
- By David A. Whitsett, Forrest A. Dolgener and Tanjala Mabon Kole

Groan... Madaraka Day my f....

(Addendum to prior post)

Running, I'm finding, is quite liberating. I am so sore..... all my muscles, some I had no idea even existed, are speaking out.... nah, shouting in protest is more like it.

On the other hand, I am now living fast.... like literally. Went drinking last night and what do you know, I already caught up with my hangover and overtook it. I can actually look back and smile... now ain't that something.

O.K. Gotta keep going.... can't linger around here if I am serious about getting away from myself.

Lord I got to keep on moving
Lord I got to get on down
Lord I've got to keep on moving
Where I can't be found,
Lord they coming after me
- Bob Marley

Running away from ... The ShaggzModo who spied me....

Ya running and ya running
And ya running away.
Ya running and ya running,
But ya can't run away from yourself
Can't run away from yourself - Bob Marley

Well... after buying $100.00 running shoes...and other miscellaneous running accessories, I sure hope Bob Marley didn't know what the hell he was talking about. After all, in this race I'm running, the only person I gotta beat is me... Now, if I can't run away from me, then pray do tell.... is the end even in sight?

No? Well I don't know... gotta run for now.... am a keep running till I can get away from this shag.... Wait, there really was a post in here somewhere.....

The Captain n I... and other reacquaintance storos

So today I woke up at like 7:00 a.m WTF! On my day off, come now... But no problem, I was on my way back to lala land in minutes.... that is till I remembered this girl I'd been chatting with on Bearshare last night (or was that this morning?), before I drifted off. Long of it, at 8:30 I was huffing and puffing as I jogged past my workplace, trying to keep up with my jogging partner, who seems to want to prove that what they say about her in the gossip columns is true.... 'That when she calls, men come running.' Very out of breath but glad all the same that I wasn't inside kissing @ss, having extricated myself reluctantly from a steamy chat session that was only marred by the fact that this girl is in Italy.

So yes suga... I did go running like I had told you I would... 2010 Boston Marathon is back on the door of my fridge as a goal. And to tell you the truth, getting reacquainted with my shortfalls was no fun... At least not nearly as getting reacquainted with you yesterday was.... but I'm getting ahead of myself once again.

First, the Captain:-

stolen from here

So the other day, Sunday - Memorial day these sides, the Captain and I got reacquainted.

K: Hi how u doing? I'm K; KK

Cpt: Morgan, Captain Morgan (winking conspiratorially)

K: Well Cpt... Mighty glad to remake your acquaintance (returning the wink)

Cpt: Aye Savvy, same here mate (I could swear I detected a New Jersey accent in there somewhere).... You ready to party hommes?

K: You betcha...

And we proceeded to get to know each other, quite intimately I would venture to say. Pretty soon we were consulting each other on when to use the bathroom, weighing the risk of getting caught by the WPD with our pants down in the middle of downtown against that of trying to make it to a public latrine without dripping.

Somehow, he managed to convince me that he would be able to contain himself and not give himself away while I visited with my sick auntie in the hospital. You should have heard us argue about whose fault it was that I had belched out loud at a most inopportune moment. Apparently I should have warned him to hold his breath... Thankfully, the embarrassment didn't kill my aunt, I'd never have forgiven him otherwise. As it is we hang out all night and like always, we had a fallout at some point in the night... and as always, it was due to his stupidity.

You know, I'm kinda used by now to his antics when overindulged... The thinking that he can dance, charm, be funny... etcetera etcetera and his proceeding to act the fool as he tries to prove to the rest of us that he can. All of that I've learnt to live with... a day later it's usually all forgiven and forgotten... or more aptly forgotten and therefore forgiven. This past Sunday though, he went past stoopid to unforgivable.

Now, we all know that when the last song is playing you want to be dancing with the girl who you want to take home, or if that doesn't look like it will work out quite, at least get her number to take home. It doesn't matter that you haven't danced at all that night.... if you don't want anaa bloke doing the honors then you better be the one in whose arms she ends the party in. Now, every dude knows this... but what does the this geezer do, right before they start playing the last song, he manages to pull out of the position we have worked all night to get ensconced... the rear of this beautifoo Kenyan girl who from what I've managed to gather by then, her good looks are only rivaled by her sharpness... a good looking brainee with a great behind... can you say once in a lifetime.

Well, not the ambitious Captain... Nooo.. out of the corner of his eye he notices these good looking faces that can't stop smiling at him... and without stopping to think or at least consult with me, he lets go of the bird in hand for the two in the bu... well, ballroom actually. I am actually thinking its a good move until we move closer and I realize that I know these two girls... but alas it is too late as I get pulled into a tight warm double d hug, and a moment later the lights come on and harshly expose his glaring folly.

Being the gentleman I am, I went on to dance the last dance with my two beautifoo cousins.... well it was more to save face than anything. The Cpt was besides himself..... there is no blood connection he tried to argue but I was inconsolable. They are my cousins, and besides, I already had their numbers. So I went home to my empty bed, sullen after having told off my old friend and admonished him that I did not expect him to be there when I got up in the morning.

Second the BHH.....

Two O'clock next afternoon, last night's saga nearly forgotten but for the nagging headache the good captain left behind, found me racing to what has become our annual BHHs (Boston chapter) with Suga.... BHH for those not in the know stands for Bloggers Happy Hour with the s in ours denoting the several hours it lasted. The highlight, other than seeing my dear Tandra, whom I hadn't seen since Thanksgiving last year, was the ride on the Subway, which given that she uses it quite often, wasn't as awesome to her as it was to me. But given the recent crash that resulted in part (or was it entirely) because the driver was texting while driving, I couldn't wait to get on and watch, with my camera on the ready, incase this driver was waiting to learn from his own experience. But this driver was either good, or too good at hiding his texting.

So... sorry, no pictures of peeps doing what they shouldn't while doing what they should. Instead, here is one of me while we were having lunch at 'Dick's Last Resort' whose name should tell you enough about our experience there. If it doesn't, then this picture of the paper hat that our brash waitress made for me should.

If that didn't do it.. then go here

All in all, a good time was had by all as we explored Boston... a beautiful city I would recommend for all to visit.... when it's warm. Frigid Boston is exactly that, frigid. Take my word for it. We saw the greatest places on earth via the huge Mugar Omni Imax at the Museum of Science, that is a must visit, though we both agreed that the director obviously forgot to consult with us when picking out these 'Great' places.

Last and least...

About a quarter off 1:00 this morn... that is quarter to for those of u who like me were not brought up in New England, I get home with one thought in mind... sleep! Except it wasn't to be as my South-African-Italian friend was online and interested in talking... Crys was also on and in a bloody shock and the glass of Cpt and coke was still swirling around in my head... traveling all too familiarly in my system. Yes, I know, My name is KK and I have a weakness for Captain Morgan.

In Other News:-

We are officially retiring our trusty mammoth of a phone -

Nokia E61

It served me valiantly for four months in the face of sleeker fancier phones... It actually outlived my last failed relationship... Good Lord, the secrets it's carried for me. But don't worry my ol' fella... you've been replaced by a sleeker, thinner, smaller, faster, sexier and definitely worthy replacement. What do you know, it can even take pictures... Well u should know since I took this one of you with it. Unfortunately I couldn't use u to take one of it with you coz of course you have no camera. But never one to be ashamed... I stole another

Nokia E71

I apologize for the extra long post... please feel free to skip over whatever content you find unappealing:) If the Cpt. Morgan picture is yours and u object to my use of it, please let me know in the comments section and I'll find a replacement... Heck, if it's not yours and you don't like my use of it... let me know.