Part I: Shock
I guess you can say I’m stunned.
I almost couldn’t believe my ears when Chris Daughtry was sent home from American Idol last night. So much for my prediction that he would win the whole thing.
Remember my post recommending that some Vegas casino open up wagering on reality TV show outcomes? Thank God nobody ever listens to me. If that scenario had ever materialized, chances are I would be out a lot of money this morning, and spending the next several days screening calls from my bookie and looking skittishly at any overweight Italian wearing a patterned shirt. I don’t need that kind of stress. But really...who would have bet against Chris?
On the flip side of that coin...if there had been gambling lines two months ago, what do you think the odds of Elliott making the finals would have been? 50 to 1? 100 to 1? 1000? He’s like George Mason University in the NCAA hoops tournament: flying under the radar while the big names knock each other out one by one, and delivering surprisingly strong performances at key times. Yet it still seems no one really gives him much of a chance. I suppose we’ll find out soon enough.
Last night’s unexpected turn of events also highlights two key lessons:
1) Perhaps all those people who yammer about how TV has a mass dumbing-down effect are on to something. There’s really no rational reason why I should get emotionally invested in a glamorized singing contest, or why I should care about who gets fired from the board room or sent home in a limo or voted off the island. Yet somehow, on some level, I do. And if anybody other than Terry wins Survivor next Sunday, I’ll probably be bummed out about that, too. So how stupid does that make me?
2) Regarding my prediction of the Idol winner: please realize at any given moment, on almost any given subject, there’s a better-than-average chance that I don’t know what the hell I’m talking about. Just thought that needed to be said.
Part II: Blah
Five of us met at the track this morning. It was our first speedwork session since the marathon, so we made sure to choose a simple workout.
Some of us (me included) are shifting gears in our training somewhat during the summer, to focus on different races and shorter distances. My next serious race (separate post coming soon) is less than five weeks away, so I didn’t want to take too long of a layoff before getting back into the training groove.
We chose a workout that on paper appears to be very quick and painless: three sets of 100m, 200m, 300m, 400m, with equal distance recovery each time. Total distance 3000m of speed, with 3000m recovery.
The workout absolutely kicked my butt.
It was one of those workouts where nothing felt right at all: I was constantly short of breath, felt strange muscle twinges, had occasional pain in my back, and generally lacked any snap or spring in my stride. I also felt about 20 pounds heavier than last week, which – if you’ve ever seen the way I eat in the week after a marathon - may not be that much of an exaggeration.
Honestly, I didn’t expect to feel any better than I did this morning. It usually takes one or two efforts like today’s to blow all of the cobwebs out of the pipes, and get my body reacquainted with the demands I’ll be placing on it again over the next few weeks.
So now the bad workout is out of the way, and things are almost certain to only get better from here.
Except for the fact that I can’t watch Chris Daughtry on TV anymore.
May 11, 2006
Part I: Shock