Post-Pre

Steve Prefontaine is considered to be one of the most influential people in the history of track and one of the greatest runners of all time. He set numerous records, and was known for giving it his all and never quitting. This 3 minute video does a great job summarizing his feats and fantastic quotes. And Prefontaine, or Pre as he was called, achieved this place in history even though he was killed in a car accident at the young age of 24.
When I was 14 years old, I decided to follow my friends into the realm of high school cross country. This consisted of long lake runs, power line runs, never-ending sprints, and stressful 5k meets. I wish I could say that my inspiration was Pre. I wish I could say that I ran until I puked my guts out like Pre would have. In my very first practice, I hitched a ride. Unfortunately, I had never heard of Pre then. Through those four years I was one of the slowest on my team. But after that first ride, I never quit in the middle of a run again. The shoes I ran in were basic running shoes that my parents bought for me from Payless Shoe Source. A gray pair lasted me my first two years, and a black pair lasted me my last two years. We couldn't afford the fancy, colorful, top of the line shoes that some of my competitors were running in. By the end of my senior season my second pair of shoes were dirty, full of burrs, and split open from the heel to the mid-foot. After running for four years and not earning one single medal, I hung those shoes from a shelf in my bedroom as my own kind of trophy, and a sense of accomplishment. I think I finally threw them out some years later, and now I wish I hadn't. Recently, more than 20 years later, I stumbled across Nike's rebirth of of their running shoes from the 1970's. (Here's a fun retro ad campaign by Nike.) The looks of these shoes transported me to before my time, and I wanted to have a piece of my running past back. By the time I had discovered them online, most were gone. The only ones left in my size, anywhere on the web, were a pair of bright blue and red Nike Zoom Hayward III's. Honestly, they weren't my first choice, I liked the throw-back waffle shoes better, but what could I do? I had to have them. The Hayward III's were presumably modeled after Steve Prefontaine's blueprint of the perfect running shoe, and Hayward was his hometown track he ran on. I like to run in a few charity races every year, but have not been in one since I got these. However, I did wear them on the Great Rivers Century bike ride. I was one of the few who stood out not by a brightly colored biking shirt, but instead by my new Hayward's. (You can read more about my bike ride with my brother here.) This is us looking a little disheveled at mile 40. I guess what I found was this: The shoes didn't change me. I'm still the same guy who plugs along at a slow pace but eventually finishes. But did they give me a little inspiration and drive mixed in with my effort? You betcha. If only I could go back to high school cross country, to maybe at least hurl on the trails once. Pre, I wish I had known you.

Broadway's Lights Are Out

I'm one of those Fantasy Football dorks. Now, I don't pay very much money to do it, and I don't peruse through statistics for countless hours trying to chalk up a win. But I do look forward to it every week when it's here, and I watch a little more football on television than I otherwise would. I think my group does it right--We pay $10 apiece towards the champ's winnings, $5 barbecue money for our draft party, and we have a dinner at Outback Steakhouse with our own pocket money to celebrate the winner and another fun season. It's camaraderie at a low cost. I thought at this year's dinner I would pay tribute to a very good quarterback named Joe Namath. Joe was a guy who not only was known as a good quarterback, but also as a single, handsome, fashionable, famous sex symbol. He wore fantastic clothes (I love the pics here, especially the men's vintage pants in #4 & #7 and shirt in #8). He did several commercials, including a controversial one where he wore pantyhose.

He was on the front of numerous magazine covers. He starred in a movie. He owned several nightclubs. He dated famous and beautiful women. Broadway Joe was also known for wearing a fur coat on the sidelines during games, which later become popular among other players. So then, in tribute, I wore a fur coat to our dinner. Patched muskrat, mind you. My friends were a little weirded out by it, and I was a little afraid someone would dump their Aussie Cheese Fries on me in protest, but we were in a place that serves thick cuts of cow, so I figured I'd be safe from harm. Our waitress, Heather, said "eeew" when she got close to me. This would not have happened to the Joe Namath. I forgot my camera, something that Joe probably never had to worry about because everyone wanted his picture. Heather took our picture with her friend's camera and was supposed to email it to me so that I could put it on this blog. Three weeks later I still have not been emailed the picture. I can't get a girl to email a picture of myself to me, yet Joe would probably have been married to Heather by now. So all I have to show you is a lame picture of me in the fur (Curse you Heather at Outback!). Another favorite quarterback of mine played in the Super Bowl this past Sunday: Kurt Warner. Kurt won a Super Bowl here in St. Louis, and many St. Louisans miss him. We felt that this nice man, who had not only won a Super Bowl for us but was also very giving in the community, had gotten the shaft. There are questions surrounding whether or not Kurt at this point should be inducted into the Hall of Fame (Joe Namath was inducted in 1985), so the following is my official argument to the NFL by comparing these two quarterbacks. Kurt soundly beats Joe in almost every category there is, has played in two less seasons, and isn't even finished. I'm done. Okay, so Kurt's the better quarterback, but Joe's the better dresser. I mean, was the better dresser. After last Sunday's Super Bowl Joe stepped out to present the Vince Lombardi trophy. He was in a regular, plain old suit. I'm not saying he wasn't dressed nice, he was. But it wasn't the kind of dress that made the once hip Joe...well, Joe. It was disappointing frankly.
After a drunken debacle at a Monday Night Football game in September of 2007 tarnished his image, and made him look pathetic really, you might have thought he would have come out reinvented as the old Joe, in the fantastic clothes he once wore, to make up for lost luster. "Let's start over," he could have said. But I guess Broadway's lights burned out long ago. I leave you then with a hall of fame commercial of a time forgotten. Man, this guy was good.

Getting Older is a Hazzard

A couple of days ago my birthday was here like the quiet snow that came and went with it. As I've gotten older, especially after I turned 30, I occasionally lose track of my age. I often forget that my upcoming birthday will be in a day or two. And sadly, I have gradually lost a lot of my memories in general. Besides physical ailments being my nemesis since I turned 35, and wrinkles and fat slowly becoming an old familiar friend that annoy me, the loss of memory is the most troubling, and scary. Many of my childhood memories are all but forgotten, so I need pictures or other people's recollections to help jog my brain. Sometimes I wonder if that's why I enjoy 1970's vintage clothing so much, because it takes me to those times that are leaving me. As I think back, the only birthday I can remember is my 30th, when my wife took me to a surprise party at a St. Louis Blues game. I can't remember any of the other special multiples of 5 birthdays. Nor my 16th, 18th, or 21st. I can't even remember last year's. Unfortunately, most of the pictures from my childhood are at my parent's house. I happen to have a few Polaroids from that special first camera I probably got for a forgotten special birthday. And one of my Polaroids is of me and my friends at, I think, my 11th birthday, exactly 25 years ago. Disregard the fact that the kid in the sweet butterfly collar thinks my cool party is boring. Don't focus on the kid in the humongous glasses. Ignore the two kids trying to steal my thunder. Forget about the tough one in the back with the rolled up sleeves and open shirt whose mommy wouldn't let him sleep over at my house. And especially don't pay attention to the fact that I'm acting like an idiot, or that I remind you of the young Tommy Boy who runs into the sliding glass door thinking it's open. Focus instead on my flannel shirt. Vintage, early 80's flannel. I was probably also wearing Husky corduroys that my Grandma bought for me because she felt it was the only brand I could fit into, but again, focus on the flannel. I wish I could say I remember it like it was yesterday....During that time I was a HUGE Dukes of Hazzard fan.

I had the Matchbox cars, the figurines, the lunchbox, and a baseball style shirt with the smoothest picture of the Dukes on it I had ever touched. You may recognize my flannel shirt as something you might have seen Luke Duke sporting. Now, I liked Bo better because he looked like me, or so I thought, and he was a more daring driver, and he seemed to attract more of the ladies. But Luke was the brains of the operation and was cool and collected. And those forearms that would bulge out of the rolled up sleeves of his blue plaid flannel impressed me as well. Of course, then, there was Daisy, and I don't think I need to explain myself any further in that matter. But how could I be cousin Bo or Luke when I had these feelings for Daisy? The two of them seemed to struggle with my same problem on the show. I felt that it was a problem I could live with, for Daisy's sake, so I kept on being one of the Duke boys. Like I said, 25 years have passed, and I don't feel much like a hood slidin', car ramp jumpin', yahooin' Duke anymore. I now feel a lot like Uncle Jesse. Thank goodness I don't remember him very well.

Hey, Wait A Second! I Voted For Change!

At every Presidential inauguration the President and his wife, and much more so his wife, get either raked over the coals or lauded for how fashionably they are dressed. At Tuesday's inauguration Mrs. Obama didn't pull any punches with her vibrant, "lemon grass" dress. As I have learned she likes to kick the fashion world in the stomach by using relatively unknown designers for her wardrobe at modest costs to her wallet. What I especially love about her choices is that they are colorful and different, and that no matter what others think she's not afraid to stand out in them. On top of that she sends her daughters down the same path, putting them in beautiful colors from lucky J. Crew. Madame President, you are a kitten and a tiger rolled up into one. On the flip side, she has not helped her husband. Barrack Obama dresses in the traditional, boring, dark suits, as you saw at his inauguration, and like the Presidents before him. Mr. Obama's ties are colorful, thank goodness, in a solid red or solid blue kind of way. But it's time for change, right? Change is what President Obama talks about. So this has given me an idea....and hope. Barrack Obama has sent a message that he wants environmental change, so here's his window of opportunity. Like John F. Kennedy and Jackie Onassis did in fashion before them, the first family can influence and lead the world in a change for a better environment. Second-hand clothing is one key to this. I don't mean any old Wal-Mart sweatshirt. I mean vintage clothing. It's colorful, bold, unique, environmentally friendly, in style now in many circles, and would be economically meaningful to vintage clothing businesses. Many would take notice and follow the first couple's lead. How could anyone challenge the President on this when the talk from his heart equals his actions? For example, I think this 1970's men's vintage suit combination would look very dapper on President Obama. The Queen of Soul, Aretha Franklin, sent her own message at the inauguration. Women across the U.S. are making calls to find copies of that hat she wore. This is the kind of change that I voted for--my President to take the lead and make this world a greener place, and look good doing it.

I'll Show You Mine if You Show Me Yours

Like me, I'm sure when you hear someone mention the brand Fruit of the Loom you most likely think of under garments. Well, guess what? Unlike Fruit of the Loom, we've been one-dimensional thinkers all these years. Not only was I befuddled when I learned that the Loom dabbles in more than just briefs, I was shocked to learn that the brand name has been around for over 150 years! And to confound things even more for me, I never quite got the guys in the grapes and apple and wilted head of lettuce costumes. How exactly did they fit in to the concept of cotton close to the skin?
From Wikipedia: "The Fruit of the Loom brand dates back to 1851 in Rhode Island when Robert Knight, a textile mill owner, visited his friend, Rufus Skeel. Mr. Skeel owned a small shop in Providence, Rhode Island that sold cloth from Mr. Knight's mill. Mr. Skeel's daughter painted images of fruit and applied them to the bolts of cloth. The ones with the fruit emblems proved most popular. Mr. Knight thought the labels would be the perfect symbol for his trade name, Fruit of the Loom."
I, of course, can only remember Fruit of the Loom as far back as my childhood, when in the late 1970's and early 1980's Underoos became a big must-have phenomenon for kids.

My sister Kathy had a set of Scooby-Doo, my sister Beth had a set of Wonder Woman, and I had Captain Marvel Underoos. (This picture is not me--I couldn't find any of me sporting the red 'Roos. Thanks to Derik for this pic and here's his Flickr link.) Beth and I used to poke fun at Kathy for her Scooby-Doos, because we were super heroes. (Well, I considered Scooby a hero but didn't let on. The cartoon was my favorite and my mother was convinced that I was scared of the dark because of it.) I would yell Shazam! and rough up my sisters, and Beth would put up her wrist shields to block bullets, and Kathy, well what could she do? Run around acting frightened of fake monsters and eating pretend Scooby Snacks? Wimpy. And by the way, you can bet I'd sport Captain Marvel Underoos now if they were in my size.
Little did I know Fruit of the Loom went beyond tightie-whities and Underoos. I found this sweater-shirt made by Fruit of the Loom. Now, whether this is a vintage men's shirt or a woman's I'm not sure, nor do I care. It fits me for the most part. But my gut feeling is that it is a guy's shirt from the 1960's. The fact that it seems men wore more feminine clothes in the 60's and 70's has me that much more confrused (as Scooby might yelp), and is something I'll have to write about in a future blog. Now, fair is fair. I showed you my Fruit of the Loom....