You’re surprised that I wore an Ohio State jersey? Have we met?
I’d always wanted to do the YMCA Turkey Trot, the annual 5K held in the city on Thanksgiving morning, if for no other reason that it would provide ample justification for the gorging that would occur later in the day.
So of course, I waited to do the race until the year when I’m not really allowed to gorge any longer.
But that’s my only gripe about this morning’s race. Well, that and that freaking hill coming around Commonwealth Place to Fort Duquesne Boulevard just as we’re hitting the third mile … that sucked a little bit, to be honest. But that’s a minor gripe — especially in a hilly town like Pittsburgh — and the only one I had about the race. I loved the course; I ran (or walked) past both PG newsrooms, over two bridges and past two stadiums, all on a perfect, sunny, 45-degree morning.
How’d I do? I joked on Wednesday about finishing last in my age group. And I was close.
But that’s not the point. The point is getting outside on a gorgeous morning. The point is enjoying the energy of your fellow runners. The point is responding to the people who are cheering you because you’re wearing an Ohio State jersey. The point is moving.
I did all those. I want to do it again. Soon. Thursday morning was too much fun not to.
If you and I have:
- Had a beer
- Watched a game
- Attended a tailgate party
- Cooked for each other
- Gone to a yoga class
- Gone out for dinner
- Raved about music
- Played Cards Against Humanity
- Compared tattoos
- Met for lunch
- Spent the weekend at each other’s homes
- Seen a concert
- Caught up at a reunion
- Talked on Twitter, by text or even on Facebook or Snapchat
- Taken a walk in the rain or snow
- Discussed beer, mead or cider
- Laughed so hard we cried
- Sipped a glass of whiskey (or whisky)
- Hung around a backyard campfire
- Traded blog comments
- Cheered each other’s successes and lamented our failures
- Been there for each other, even in seemingly insignificant ways
…in the last year, I so am thankful to have you in my life.
Happy Thanksgiving, yinz guys.
It was the last thing I did inside Ohio Stadium when I left after Saturday’s cold, rainy loss to Michigan State.
And it was the best way for me to start Michigan week.
Those concrete garlands – they’re “strung” all around the stadium, attached to the building’s original façade – are my connection between the current, expanded version of the stadium and the one that my grandfather worked on before it opened in 1922. I’m not especially superstitious, but I always make sure I go up the correct stairway to C Deck so I can touch one of those garlands. It’s a little thing, but it makes me feel like I have the entire weight of Ohio State football history behind me as I climb up to my seats.
The renovations to the stadium were completed in the early 2000s, and they added capacity to the building in two ways: the track was removed and the field was lowered, so additional seats could be added to the base of the lower bowl, and a new façade was erected outside the old one so C Deck could be expanded up an out. I don’t recall the first time I touched one of the garlands, but once I settled on that as a tradition, I’ll even backtrack down a second flight of stairs just to make sure I touch one before the game begins.
As you may be aware, I got my first tattoo last spring, a subtle – in theme, not in the size of the piece – display of my affection for Athens. Something having to do with Ohio State football was a natural for Tattoo No. 2, but getting a Block O or something else obvious just wasn’t going to work. But while struggling with potential ideas, Mrs. Crappy made a suggestion: What about those garlands? I immediately thought they would work as a bicep band.
So about a week after my birthday, I went back to see Erin at Kyklops. Once again she totally nailed what I had in mind.
And although there won’t be another trip to Ohio Stadium during the 2015 season, I will have a little bit of the stadium with me all the way through Michigan week.
Everyone here is excited about the win by Columbus in the first leg of the MLS Eastern Conference finals.
And I mean everyone.
Although the effort was kind of exhausting.
In the last week, chances are good that if I look down while doing stuff in the kitchen, that’s what I’m going to see.
Charlie watches. He studies. If he’s awake, he wants to know what we’re doing and how it might fit into his new life.
Sure, I’m aware of the thing about curiosity and the cat, but think about this: He has literally never seen any of this before.
The notes from Animal Rescue League didn’t say where he came from, but we know Charlie was picked up as a stray. In his five-ish months, has he lived inside a house? Has he lived inside at all, besides in his time at the shelter?
Let’s assume that he hasn’t. And that means everything — absolutely everything — he sees in here he is seeing for the first time. Today was a great example. I made the full production family spaghetti and meatballs, a process that actually started on Thursday night, when I made about 30 meatballs. On that night and today, Charlie frequently checked in to see what I was up to. He’s not yet as vocal as Miles was, but he’s learning to, uh, ask when he wants something; today, those requests came when wanted tastes of whatever I was working on. The verdicts: A little taste of meatball was good, as was a small piece of pasta with some sauce clinging to it. Salad? Chianti? Not so much.
But remember — this happens with everything he sees. Alarm clocks are weird. We’ve caught him watching TV several times. He has learned that heating vents equal heat … and man, that feels good. The bathroom — with not one, not two, but three sources of running water — is especially fascinating, and Charlie is wide-eyed and underfoot every single morning as we get ready for work, because he wants to watch every single thing we’re doing. He’s not uptight about any of these new things, but his big eyes and his nose are always there, taking in everything they can.
Because it’s all new. All of it.