I don’t think you’ll be sleeping in bed tonight…

Marital harmony. It can be beautiful, but it can be fleeting. If a married couple lacks it, that’s when the house gets chopped in half and both people hope that their share includes the master bathroom.

During dinner with some friends yesterday, that concept was used in a variety of contexts:

“We’re getting rid of the dog for the sake of marital harmony.”
“He might deny it now, but we’re eventually moving to St. Johns, Newfoundland in Canada. Why? Marital harmony.”
“To maintain marital harmony, I’m bringing you to the doctor tomorrow and have you spayed or neutered.”

Eventually, one guy said something that made me snicker; his fiance heard me laugh, but not what caused said laughter. Much like last night, I’m not going to repeat the comment “on account of marital harmony.” I think “for the sake of” would have been a better phrase to use, especially since she misheard me and thought I said, “on a couch of marital harmony.” I can’t imagine why she was confused…

But when you stop and think about it, maybe that’s not as ridiculous as it sounds. After all, if a couple is fighting, spending some time apart will give them a chance to calm down, right? Thus:

“Where does a man sleep when his wife is pissed at him? On a couch of marital harmony.”

He should’ve been wearing a World Cup

It happened when I was watching the Ecuador-Croatia game on ESPN this morning (I think I could pass as a “Non-Violent, Non-Drinking Soccer Hooligan”… assuming that’s not an inherent contradiction…). I didn’t mind the commentary provided during the game, but because of a tragic event that occurred on the field, I came to the conclusion that one of the guys skipped too many classes in Anatomy 101.

During the second half, Croatia took a shot on goal, the ball got deflected and eventually headed towards midfield, then the camera zoomed in on an Ecuadoran player lying on the ground with AGONY written all over his face. (And it was written in team colors, no less…) A replay from a camera behind the net showed the shot, the back of the player as the ball hit him somewhere in the waist area and him immediately collapsing onto the turf.

As the cameras kept switching between replays and the live shot of the Ecuadoran player nursing his injury, the commentator explained that “when you get hit in the stomach, the lower stomach, it just knocks the wind out of you.” However, the attentive viewer should have disregarded that because the player wasn’t clutching his abdomen—he was lying on his back, grimacing and sticking his hand down the front of his shorts. Repeatedly.

And in case that wasn’t enough evidence to prove where the impact actually occurred, the camera showed him again as he was walking off the field under his own power (which I thought was pretty impressive under the circumstances)—he was smiling at the medics as he took a water bottle, pulled out the front of his shorts and squirted some water down into his crotch. That’s not getting hit in the stomach, my friends. Not at all.

But then I thought about it and wondered what the commentator could have said instead. ESPN is generally a family-friendly TV station, so I’m not sure he would have been allowed to say what most guys were thinking: “When you get hit in the nuts with a soccer ball like that, it hurts like hell. My eyes are watering just thinking about the pain he’s in. I hope he’s not expecting to have any more kids in the future. I wonder if he’ll ever walk ag–OOF!! Why did you just elbow me?! All I’m saying is that he’ll probably be pissing blood for a couple wee–OUCH!! Quit hitting me, asshole! You wanna find out how he’s feeling down there? He feels like THIS!! Ha! Suck it, bitch! Huh? Oh, hey there, security guy. What’s up? Whaddya mean, how much have I been drinking? I’ve just been up in here talking about the game—leave those empties alone! I can get a quarter back from the store if I bring ‘em back! Hey, lemme go! What, you wanna know how he’s feeling, too? I can show you exactly… wh-what’s that? It looks like pepper spr-AAAAHH!! MY EYES!! FUCK YOU, ESPN!!

Nope, that definitely wouldn’t go over very well. Much better to say the player got hit in the stomach, get his quarter back from the store at the end of the game and sleep it off until tomorrow. Then he could wake up, clutch his throbbing head and try to remember if hangovers were covered during Anatomy 101 as well.

AR DNF

Brent and I signed up for an “AR Warm-Up” on May 28th, organized by MNOC [Minnesota Orienteering Club]. The weather that day was in the mid-90s with a fairly strong wind. Perfect for racing! (Well, we’ve raced before when it was in the mid-40s with a fairly strong wind and pouring rain—this was a lot closer to perfect!) We were also wearing our official GT Frost racing gear, so the other racers gave us the “Best-Dressed Team” award. The race was a short course that was supposed to take approximately 4-6 hours. The first team that made it to all the checkpoints finished in exactly six hours. Unfortunately, Team GT Frost suffered from premature completion of the race.

Everything was supposed to start at 9:00, but it took about 10 minutes for the race organizers to bring us all to an open field as a starting point, which is where they gave us the maps we used to plot our course. The first couple checkpoints weren’t too far away and most people left the field at the same time, so the beginning of the race was basically a large cluster moving along at a relatively slow pace. Things really started to get spread out at the first transition area [TA], which was where we all picked up inflatable kayaks and hit the water.

The kayak fits two people and is a really basic shape—a bottom, the sides and a little cover over the tips on the front and back to keep waves from splashing in and eventually dragging the kayak down until you’re paddling next to the fishes. Since I was riding in the front, I went to grab an inflatable seat to support my back, whereas Brent could lean against the rear of the kayak. I used a pump to put air in the seat, but it wasn’t staying inflated. I thought maybe I wasn’t closing the plug quickly enough, but after the third try, it seemed good enough. However, as I walked towards the lake, I realized that it was deflating again. A non-inflated seat wasn’t going to help any, so I decided to leave it on shore and we took off into the water instead of getting another. That was a big mistake.

Sitting in the bottom of the kayak without anything holding me up in the back meant I was stuck in a permanent sit-up position. I quickly shifted around to kneel and sit on my ankles, then twisted around so I was sitting on my feet, then shifted back… I moved around as much as I could, but it was impossible to get comfortable for more than ten minutes at a time and we were on the water for significantly longer than ten minutes. Eventually, I reached the point where I couldn’t paddle anymore. I just leaned forward in the kayak to keep pressure off my feet because it hurt so bad. During all this, we still had to go all the way across the lake and directly into a headwind to the next checkpoint. I paddled for a majority of the way, but towards the end, Brent was the only reason we were moving forward.

When we got to the checkpoint, someone helped me out of the kayak and I sat down so I could roll my feet around to get the blood flowing and loosen them up. When we got back into the water, we changed our technique: we both laid down on the kayak facing one another. One of us would sit up and paddle forward for a while, then he’d lie down, we’d spin the kayak around and the other person would paddle. I was amazed at how well it worked and we finished the remainder of the kayaking section a lot faster than I expected.

I’m not sure how far behind the pack we were by then, but we had a lot of ground to make up. The next part was another orienteering section, so Brent pulled out his compass, figured out where we needed to go and we took off towards the next checkpoint. There aren’t much in the way of trails in a state park like that… well, there probably are, but the checkpoints were off the trail and in the woods, so we did a little trailblazing instead.

Trailblazing is basically how is sounds, except there’s no fire involved. We pick out which direction we’re supposed to go, then go that way and storm through any brush that gets in our way. Thankfully, we wear tights during adventure races (chicks think they look sexy…), so the slash marks are kept to a minimum. It was pretty impressive at how well Brent was doing with the map and compass. We took one wrong turn, but he caught it after about thirty yards. Aside from that, we did almost no wandering at all—his bearings took us straight to the checkpoint flags where we punched our card.

By the time we got to the TA where we were supposed to pick up our bikes, we had made up some lost time and were about half an hour behind the leaders. It was 12:10, so we’d been on the trail for about three hours—not a bad pace, especially considering we’d both been sick recently and hadn’t been working out much. After gathering our helmets and some other gear, we jumped on our bikes and got ready to hit the road.

“Dude, you’ve got a flat tire.”

I looked down… yep, my front tire was flat. That was rather strange, given that we’d pumped up the tires shortly before the race started. I’d ridden the bike a couple times before to exercise—no problems then—but now I had a flat. Thankfully, Brent had changed the tires on his bike earlier, so we knew what to do.

Unfortunately, we had four spare tubes between us and only one of them had a valve that would fit my bike—the others were too big to fit through the hole in the tire’s frame. We rummaged through our gear for a couple minutes, then when we finally found tube #4, Brent slipped the new tube into the tire and started pumping it up. We’d inflated all the others to about 60 psi, but he got to about 35 psi and

BOOM!

The tube literally exploded. What’s worse, it tore open the sidewall of the tire when it blew up, so both the tube and tire were completely useless. One of the race directors offered to let me borrow his front tire, but it was designed for a different kind of braking system, so I wouldn’t have had a front brake if I used it. We had to accept the truth: GT Frost’s race was over.

We withdrew and got listed as “DNF” [Did Not Finish]. Brent and I sat around to wait and cheer for some of the other racers when they made it to the finish line, but given that we withdrew at 12:45 and the first team got back at 3:10, we were waiting for a while. During that time, we made a few discoveries.

First, when comparing the two flat tire tubes, we discovered that the location and shape of the puncture marks were exactly the same. They made an “X” that was too big to patch, then when we stretched out the tubes with the valves next to each other… same place, same shape. What’s worse, we talked to someone at the finishing area who said she’d heard a bang at about 11:00. I wonder if that was someone’s tire? I’ve used the bike outside before, but apparently the wheel likes temperatures in the mid-50s a lot better than in the mid-90s.

Now there are less than two weeks until the Wild Adventure Race Summer Sprint and we have some things to work on:

  1. Strength and endurance
  2. Kayaking skills
  3. Getting the guys at the bike shop to fix my tire

Stories from the next race coming soon…
– Shawn Bakken, Team GT Frost

Too many cell phones?

You’ve all seen them before. People talking while they’re driving. Kids talking while walking through the mall. Pet dogs getting Bluetooth phones attached to their collars. But I made my official decision that they’re getting out of control today: I was sitting inside the house and heard a voice coming from the road, so I peeked out the window and saw someone talking on her phone. While riding a bike.

WHILE RIDING A BIKE!!!

Now I just wish I’d gotten a closer look because I’ve spent the last couple hours wondering how she got it jammed up inside her bike helmet. Hey, safety first…

Adventure Race #0

This would normally be the place where I’d write about GT Frost’s most recent adventure race:

“Half an hour after the start of the race, we were biking down the trail when a bear jumped out of the woods and tried to maul us. It took a swing at Brent’s head, but he whipped out our plastic shovel and stabbed it in its furry nutsack. The bear made an extremely unhappy noise and I was going to grab the first aid kit to ease its suffering until it smashed my bike into a nearby tree. That pissed me off to no end, so I kicked it in the shovel wound and took off with the bike on my back.

“We still had to cover another twenty miles to reach three checkpoints and head back to the transition area to use the inflatable kayaks, so I walked to the checkpoints, then another thirty miles to get back to the TA and it was uphill the whole way. Covering all that ground put a lot of pressure on my legs, so just as we got into the water with the kayak, I broke of my tibias and fibulas—it looked like I had four knees instead of two.

“That’s when the bear jumped us again. We were swatting its paws away with our kayak paddles, but it kept getting closer and closer until Brent squirted it in the eyes with his hydration pack, then whacked it with his compass, bloodying its nose. It was getting really pissed off, but then these killer piranhas swam up and started gnawing at its shovel wound…”

You get the idea. Unfortunately, we missed out on our 12-hour race scheduled for the 13th because Brent picked up a case of strep throat. No training runs and no race because he was bitching about some “I need to breathe in order to run” crap… I’d call him a wussy, but he saved my life with that plastic shovel, so I think that makes us even.

To geek or not to geek

You haven’t the slightest idea how many people have told me, “Shawn, you’re not a geek.” (Hell, come to think of it, I haven’t the slightest idea, either…) Just trust me, there have been a lot. So what’s the deal? How did I end up as a “Geek” when I’m not a geek? It’s all in the interpretation.

This might be redundant for people who have read my blog, but here’s the deal: when the initial flyer to recruit people came out, it simply read that we were supposed to be within a certain age range, single and smart. That was it. If we’d be a better fit for Jeopardy than The Bachelor, “the producers wanted us.” Given that I fit those requirements, I went to the casting agency, had my quick interview and the rest is history. Exactly how it’ll be listed in the history books, though… that’s still up in the air.

When we went to the mansion, we had no idea what we were getting into. The show didn’t even have a title until after production began—I found out what it was after I flew home from L.A. (The title Beauty and the Geek reminded me a little of Who’s Your Daddy?, a show that tanked after the first episode, so I didn’t think we’d be on the air very long.) That’s my point, really: Beauty and the Geek is a catchy title that implies that we were geeks, but the description they provided in every press release and the beginning of the show is more appropriate.

At least in my case, whether I looked cute or adorable or HOTT had nothing to do with why I was there. I was there because people scared the hell out of me (and still do, to some degree). I’d be at a party, find a nice corner, then plop down and people-watch for hours. The show included a clip of me saying that I was the kid in junior high who went to school dances, then sat off to the side and drank punch all night. In the past, I’ve had a hard time walking up and introducing myself to any stranger, let alone an attractive woman.

Also in my case, the purpose of the show was to change my perspective a little and show me that I don’t need to hide in the corner anymore. I can engage anyone in conversation, be confident, etc., etc., etc. It’s worked to some degree, though I think part of that change is because I’m Shawn 2.0, the B-level celebrity. I don’t feel like much has changed about me, but people look at me differently—it’s kinda like I’m up on a (very short) pedestal, so I have to change my stature a little to measure up to their higher expectations.

But my point is that the rumors are probably true—I’m not much of a geek. “Beauty and the Geek” is rather misleading in that sense, but I was on the show for the right reason: I was a social caterpillar (think “opposite of social butterfly”). Now I’m coming out of my shell a little, starting to spread my wings and believing that maybe everyone is right. Maybe I really am HOTT.