On the way to Lawrence from Fort Collins for the Free State Trail Races, Cat, Dan and I saw more billboards praising Jesus and condemning abortion than mountains or trees. After nine hours of this we were ready to tape our eyelids shut, but fortunately we did not and not only because this spared us from driving directly into a ditch.
“Lawrence looks NICE!” I exclaimed as we motored into town. My soul had just been saved from the Bible thumpers. Continue reading »
Normally I wouldn’t shell out two Andrew Jacksons to take a stroll through a stranger’s house — especially if its owner was a railroad magnate who was nowhere nearly as popular as Elvis and was deceased well before The King was even born. But George Washington Vanderbilt II’s Biltmore House is the largest private home not only in Asheville, but the entire United States. Besides, I was able to pick up a discounted ticket at a nearby Ingles grocery store for $33 and I was somewhat curious as to how the obscenely wealthy lived at the turn of the 20th century. So I did a two-hour self-guided tour of the Biltmore Estate after all. Continue reading »
It was somewhat hard not to people-watch as I cruised down Biltmore Avenue in a Ford Focus. Crossing the street was a man sporting a beard shaggy enough to make a true mountain man burst with pride, although I wasn’t sure if it meshed well with his tie-dye shirt or the poodle that he was walking and wearing a sweater. On the sidewalk was a tall young man whose height was impressively augmented by the 8″ spikes fashioned from his dark hair and, presumably, a few cans of hairspray.
“Ah yes,” I muttered to myself. “I’m definitely in Asheville.” Continue reading »
It is true that when I am in serious trouble during a ridiculously difficult athletic event, my preferred substance of choice is a cola like Coke or Pepsi. Far more than Gatorade, Cytomax, an energy gel or bar, “coke” has lifted me out of the deep performance abyss known as The Bonk with its unique mix of sugar and caffeine.
That said, my feelings towards colas and other soft drinks are decidedly mixed. Few other substances invented by mankind are more injurious to a person’s health than those sweet carbonated drinks. At least trans fat-laden French fries don’t rot your teeth or rob your bones of calcium. At least chocolate (especially dark chocolate) has some antioxidants in the midst of sugar and buttery richness. Cola, on the other hand, has zero nutrients but lots of insulin resistance-causing high-fructose corn syrup, caffeine, and enough empty calories to put a swimsuit model out of work quicker than you can say “obesity.” Continue reading »
Molés. Tlayudas. Chapulines. These are all typical Oaxacan fare, and quite tasty too. Even the chapulines (fried grasshoppers) were “not bad” — the ones I tried were crunchier than a potato chip but in dire need of more salt. Continue reading »
Considering the way a couple dogs were barking at us like we were masked robbers, I cannot claim that los perros in Mexico are mute like the ones in Panama. However, I also can’t say the dogs were doing a good job of being frightening since their ruckus only prompted me to walk back towards them and take their picture — something Sarah, Widhar and Ojudju would tease me about as we ambled toward Teotitlan del Valle. Continue reading »
